Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bucky drains his glass of beer, savouring the bitter aftertaste of the alcohol. His day had been total shit. First Walker shows up (which was already bad enough) then Sam tells him that he has to work with Walker? As expected, it didn’t end well. He had just managed to get the blood off himself and wash up before heading to the closest bar for a drink. 

Sighing, he puts down his cup, pays the bill and walks out. Now he needs to go find Sam, for whatever reason. 

Suddenly, a loud crash breaks the still silence, coming from somewhere to Bucky’s left. Without thinking, he turns and sprints in the direction of the noise, all the way to a deserted alley. 

He peeks around the corner and nearly loses his shit when he sees what is going on. 

Three guys have a tiny little kid up against a wall, punching and kicking him, saying something that Bucky cannot quite make out from where he’s standing. It infuriates him. The kid’s minuscule, why are they beating him up? What the hell did he even do to them?

He doesn’t have to wait long for the answer. 

The largest of the three men decks the kid, sending him sprawling to the floor. Bucky listens intently when his mouth moves, just slightly grateful for his heightened senses. 

“… if Goose dies, it’s all your fault, and we’re not going to let that slide.”

The kid doesn’t even bother to fight back, instead backing up against the wall, recoiling from the kicks and blows and venomous taunts. As if that wasn’t enough, the second guy grabs him by the collar, forcing him to his knees. 

“Couldn’t expect less from the son of a traitor, Mitchell. Since the Navy’s not taken care of this yet, we will.” His grin is crooked as the third guy advances with a busted glass beer bottle in his hand. The tiny dude starts to struggle, but a hand clamps over his mouth, and the third guy stalks closer, closer, raising the sharp, unforgiving weapon…

Bucky’s had enough. To beat up an innocent guy is bad enough, but killing him? Hell no. 

Rounding the corner, he yells, “Hey!”

The three guys turn and glare at him. The guy with the bottle smirks. “Hey, man. What’s up? Come to join the fun?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Fun? I think you guys should get out of here before I call the cops. I don’t think they’ll take assault or attempted murder lightly, will they?”

The guy snarls, dropping the bottle and leaping towards Bucky without warning, drunkenly swinging his fist right towards his face. 

Bucky simply raises his eyebrows, unimpressed, as he catches the fist in his metal hand and returns a punch to the dude’s face with his right. He better be glad I didn’t use my metal arm, he thinks. The guy collapses to the floor. 

The second guy starts towards him, almost instantly tripping over Bucky’s outstretched foot. He catches him right before he hits the floor, only to haul him up and send him a right hook. 

The last guy, having witnessed Bucky single-handedly take down both of his partners, tries to make a run for it. 

“Not so fast.” Bucky rolls his eyes as he catches hold of the back of the last guy’s shirt, yanking him back. He lets go of the guy, gives him a moment of false hope, then lands a fist in his face. 

The guy howls and stumbles back. He has a good set of lungs on him, Bucky has to admit. Guys 2 and 3 run to him, helping him up. Bucky grits his teeth as he watches them. As much as he wants to absolutely trash them up, it probably will not go very well with the whole ‘making amends' part. Besides, no one will believe him if he says he was only trying to protect another guy; everyone still thinks he’s evil. So instead, he watches the three guys as they stumble out of the alley. Before he can stop himself, he shouts, “why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

It was exactly what he had said to the guy beating up Steve all those hundred years ago. It feels like just yesterday, though, that they were all together and happy. Then he’d lost Steve. Then even himself. And just when he’d finally gotten himself back, Steve was gone again. 

Dammit. He misses Steve. So much. 

A groan brings Bucky back to reality. Right. The dude who got beat up. He crouches down so that he’s eye-level with him. Even in the dim lighting, Bucky can tell that he got pretty roughed up. Bruises blossom along his face, arms and jaw, and he’s most definitely going to get a black eye by tomorrow. 

Bucky frowns. The kid looks so young. What on earth did he do to piss off those guys? They mentioned him… killing a goose? What? 

As if sensing his presence there, the kid cracks open an eye and glares at him warily. Bucky sighs. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you back home. Can you walk?”

The kid says nothing, curling in on himself with a whimper. 

Getting back on his feet, Bucky holds out a hand for him. His jaw drops when instead of taking it, the kid flinches away from him. What the hell did they do to him? 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“That’s what they always say,” the kid mutters in response, eyeing him. 

Bucky scrubs a hand over his face. It had been an exhausting day and he still has to deal with Sam later on. The last thing he needs is for a teenager to be reported missing by his parents. 

“Listen, kid,” he sighs, crouching down yet again, “I don’t know what you did to piss those dudes off, ok?” But right now, we’ve got to get you back home safely. So can you please just trust me when I say that I’m not going to hurt you?”

He snorts. “Sure. Trust you.”

Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it. 

“Do you have anywhere to go? A family member, maybe?”

He just stares blankly at Bucky, who is starting to get worried and yes, a little bit exasperated. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. One way or another, he’s going to have to get the kid back home. 

“Okay,” Bucky pulls out his mobile phone. “Um… what about your parents? I can call them.”

“Parents?” The kid sounds outright insulted. “What do you think I am? 10?”

He blinks, trying to think of an answer that will not further insult the kid. But honestly… he isn’t too far off. Maybe 15, maximum? 

“GOODNESS GRACIOUS GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!”

Bucky jumps, startled by the loud noise coming from the kid. “What the hell is that?” He demands as the song continues to blare at an obnoxiously loud volume. 

The kid cringes, pulling a phone from his pocket. He glances at the screen. 

“Shit,” he curses. 

He picks up the call, cautiously holding the phone at arm’s length away from him.

“Where the hell are you, Mitchell?” Even Bucky flinches from the harsh tone of the voice coming from the phone.

“Ice-”

“I swear, Mav, you better get your ass back home right now before Sli and I track you down and drag you back.”

Is that a threat? Bucky frowns, but doesn’t say anything. 

“Ice, I can’t-” 

“What do you mean ‘you can’t’?” The man on the other side of the phone demands. 

“I… um… might’ve accidentally got myself into some trouble.” He winces, as if bracing himself for what the other guy is going to scream again. 

“You what?” It’s a different guy this time. He sounds… kinder, to Bucky. He must be, because Bucky can literally hear the kid’s sigh of relief.

“Hey. Sli-” he starts awkwardly. 

“Pete? Where are you? And what on earth did you mean by ‘trouble’?”

“I… might’ve kind of ran into some guys at the bar. Maybe.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Maverick. Where are you? We’re coming to get you.”

The kid - Pete? Maverick? - glances at Bucky, who is leaning against a nearby wall. “Yeah,” he says to the phone, “that would be… unnecessary, but-”

“Shut up, Mav.” 

He shuts up. 

Bucky cocks an eyebrow when Pete hangs up the phone after giving Ice and - Sli? - his address. They sound like his family, but if they are, what happened to his mother? 

“They your family?” He asks conversationally. 

Pete visibly tenses. “You could say so,” he murmurs nonchalantly. At least, Bucky can sense that he’s trying to be nonchalant. How does he know? Well, in his opinion, spending enough time with Sam Wilson can do that to you. 

He settles on the floor next to Pete. “Relax,” he murmurs when the tiny dude tries to inch further away from him, eyeing him suspiciously. “I’m just waiting to make sure your family comes, and that those guys don’t come back.” 

And I’d much rather do this than have to talk to Sam anyway, he thinks. 

Pete doesn’t answer. 

Chapter Text

Whoever this strange guy in a long-sleeved shirt is, Mav isn’t sure. But he sure as hell isn’t going to trust him that easily. He’s made that mistake far too many times to have history repeat itself again. 

But… Mav can’t shake the feeling that he’s like… a second Goose. The way he observes every flinch and movement Maverick makes. The way his eyes fill with gentleness and warmth.

It feels like he’s done this before.

So when this stranger sits next to Mav, he tries to resist every urge in him to bolt.

“…Who are you?”

A few minutes of silence pass before the words tumble out of his mouth.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but call me Bucky.”

Mav hesitates for a bit.

“I’m… I’m Pete. But my callsign is Maverick. Mav, for short.”

He tries to ignore the amused look flitting over Bucky’s face at the mention of his callsign. 

“So, you really aren’t a kid, huh?” Bucky chuckles. “A callsign… you’re a pilot?” 

“Yeah. A naval aviator,” Mav replies, slightly affronted

“Why’d you get in trouble, anyway?”

Maverick eyes him apprehensively. “Well, I’m the Mitchell kid.”  

Bucky listens with rapt attention as Mav tells him the depressing sob story that is his life. Which throws Pete off, because other than Goose (and more recently, the flyboys), no one in his life ever really takes whatever he says seriously.

When Ice steps out onto the pavement, Mav can feel his cold fury emanating from him from a mile away. Evidently Bucky does too, because the moment Ice turns in their direction, he shoots up and steps in front of Mav protectively. A second Goose, Mav thinks again.

“It’s fine, we know each other.” Pete staggers upright, the world spinning momentarily and his head pounding from the sudden movement. Bucky’s hand makes some kind of gesture, as if he wanted to grab Pete to steady him, but decided not to. Instead, he continues to glare at Iceman and Slider warily as they hurriedly rush over. 

“Oh, pipsqueak, we were so damn worried about you!” Slider dwarfs Mav as he squishes him in a careful hug after taking in his numerous bruises. Mav sinks into his embrace, too exhausted to do anything else.

Meanwhile, Ice is beside himself. “WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY?” He thunders, his cool and collected mask long gone. “I’m going to murder those :#$/+-rs!”

“I already did,” Bucky deadpans coolly, corralling the other man.

Ice stares.

“Yeah,” Mav pipes up, his voice still muffled as he buries his face in Slider’s chest. “He stepped in and clocked the shit out of ‘em.” Mimes a swinging motion. “Even checked me for a concussion.”

Ice stares even more, as if Bucky had just fallen out of the sky.

“He means thank you.” Slider sidles over, tipping his head in Bucky’s direction in a friendly manner. “Not many people help the squirt a lot, and… he gets in trouble often.”

Mav protests being called a squirt, and Bucky nods awkwardly. “So, um… you guys are his parents.” 

Mav and Slider yell “What, no!” at the same time Ice says mutinously, “If he was my child, I would’ve died young.” He earns a healthy glare from Pete.

Yet Maverick’s heart pangs at Bucky’s concern. To think that Bucky wouldn’t leave until he knows Mav is in safe hands. Goose would bawl if he knew. 

“Right…” Bucky’s gaze. Flicks from Mav, to Ice, then back to Mav again. His tone is sharper when he turns to Ice and asks, “And you’re going to bring him back home?” 

“What? You think we’re gonna beat him up even more?” 

“Are you?” There is no amusement in his voice as he stares right into Ice’s eyes, as if reading his soul. 

Ice frowns. “No. Of course not.”

”Bucky, it’s fine.” Maverick intervenes quietly. 

Bucky nods, his stare now fixed on Mav, studying him. “I don’t think he’s got a concussion,” he says, still looking at Mav, “but he’ll definitely get a black eye.” His eyes travel over the numerous bruises over Pete’s body. “And those bruises sure aren’t gonna be pretty either.” He finally focuses back on Ice. “Get him home.” It isn’t a request. Mav can clearly tell that. If Ice does any different and Bucky finds out about it, he will hunt Ice down for sure. 

Ice grumbles something under his breath, but agrees nonetheless. 

Slider carries Mav (much to his annoyance) back to Ice’s car, and though he can’t see Bucky, he sure can feel the heat of his stare, watching them. 

Chapter Text

“I still can’t believe that you ran off without us,” Slider grumbles as he sets Mav down on the couch. “What happened to trust, huh?”

“Sorry,” Mav mumbles, wincing as Slider probes at a steadily darkening bruise. He often jokes about not being sorry at all, but this time, he truly is sorry for scaring Ice and Sli, for being so reckless, and mainly, for Goose. If he hadn’t been so hung up about being the best, maybe Goose would not be in the OR, fighting for his life.

“Hey, Mav,” Slider calls softly, drawing his attention back to him.

“Yeah?” He croaks.

Slider tugs at the hem of his shirt. “Come on. Lemme take a look.”

Mav nods numbly, pulling his shirt over his head. “Where’s Ice?” He mutters, noticing the absence of the absolutely livid aviator.

“He’s getting a bath ready.” Slider runs his fingers over the bruises. “Thought it might be good to let him calm down a bit first.” He stands, walking over to the kitchen and grabbing some painkillers and a glass of water. “He’s still going to be mad later, just so you know. We were scared out of our minds when we couldn’t find you, Pete.”

“Sorry,” Mav mutters again. He doesn’t know what else to say.

Slider sighs, returning. “What’s going on, Mav? It’s not like you to apologise so much.”

“It’s nothing.” He stares at his lap. Slider shakes his head, sighing again as he holds out the pills to Maverick. He takes them along with the water. They sit in silence for the next few minutes, Slider watching Mav as they wait for Ice.

“Sli.”

Both Slider and Mav look up as Ice walks out of the bathroom. Sli nods, then slides his arms under Mav and picks him up effortlessly, heading for the bathroom.

=======

“Mav?”

He looks up, noticing Ice frowning at his hands, which are picking at a loose thread on his shirt as Slider blows his hair dry. “What?”

Ice tears his eyes away from Mav’s hands to look him in the eye. “Why are your knuckles clean?”

“What?” He hears Sli snap as the hairdryer turns off, right before he appears in Mav’s field of vision and takes his hand, studying it. A moment later, his head snaps up. “Mav,” he asks cautiously, “did you fight back?”

He nods, though he knows that it is pointless to lie to Ice and Sli. They always seem to know the truth.

Ice doesn’t disappoint. “Don’t you dare lie to us, Mav. Your knuckles aren’t split. They’re not even bruised. And you yourself know what always happens when you get into a real fight. So, tell us. Why did you let those guys beat you up?” His voice softens. “It’s not like you.”

Maverick can tell that Ice wasn’t going to stop interrogating him till he got some answers. Hell, he’d probably find Bucky and ask him himself. So he stares down at his hands — these traitorous hands that ratted him off — and mutters, “They were talking about… about Goose.”

“What did they say?”

He stays silent.

“What the hell did they say to you, Mav?” Ice demands, losing his cool yet again.

“Ice, relax.” Slider pulls Pete closer. “Pete, come on, buddy, can you tell us?”

He sniffles, burying his face into Sli’s chest. His voice is muffled when he replies, “they- they said that it was my fault. For- for Goose. They’re right. If- if I wasn’t so c-caught up trying to win, maybe G-Goose would still be here, and—”

“Oh, pipsqueak,” Slider sighs, wrapping his arms around the tiny aviator. “It’s not your fault. You never could have known.”

“And if you’re going with the whole points thing, it… it would be my fault then.” Ice interjects quietly.

Mav shakes his head. “It’s not your fault, Ice.”

“Mav, for the last time, it’s not your fault either. You’re not… not God, or something. Seriously. It was an accident,” Slider ruffles his hair.

“But-”

“No. No buts.” His arms tighten around Mav, gently squishing him. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for everything.”

Mav is silent. He knows Sli means well, but it always seems like everything is his fault.

“You hear me, Mav?”

Pete nods hesitantly, biting his lip.

“Ok then.” Slider still doesn’t sound convinced. He sighs. “Come on then, you should get some rest.”

Chapter Text

“He’ll be fine, Mav. You saw him with your own eyes.” 

Pete stares vacantly out the window at the trees zipping by as they speed down the road. Ice’s words are somewhat true; he and Slider just brought Mav to see Goose in the base hospital. He’s still alive. 

Mav didn’t kill him.

He still doesn’t say anything, however, as they exit the highway and turn into a street. He just stares out the window, as if in a daze. 

All the buildings, all the people, they’re the same, anyway. Funnily enough, life-changing events could happen to you anytime, yet the world would still go on its merry way, not minding in the slightest bit how your life had just spun off its axis. For all Mav knew, that woman over there with the knitted sweater could have just secured a job, or that man over there in the navy suit could have just lost all his shares, and that guy limping down the sidewalk, covered in… wait. Was that blood? 

Mav shoots upright from his slouched position against the window. The fuck? Yet the more Mav looks at the guy, the more familiar he seems. It feels like he’s seen this guy somewhere before, but somehow, he can’t remember where. It’s only when the man just so happens to glance at Mav that he finally gets a look at his face. 

What. The. Hell. 

It’s the weird guy from yesterday — Bucky, right? 

What is he doing here? And why on earth is he covered in blood?

“Ice…?” Pete mutters, still not taking his eyes off of Bucky. 

“Yeah?” 

The light turns green, and the car starts to move.

“Ice, pull over.” 

“What?” 

“Pull over. On the right. Now.” 

Ice is completely confused. “Why-“

“Just do it.” 

Something in Mav’s tone must’ve told Ice that he was serious, because other than a little bit of muttering, he turns right into a smaller avenue and stops. 

“Mav, why on ea-”

Before he can even finish his question, Mav is out of the car and striding up to Bucky. 

Bucky looks up when he hears someone walking up to him, surprise and then recognition flickering in his aquamarine gaze when he sees the man he just saved yesterday. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, stopping in his tracks. 

“I could say the same for you,” Mav mutters, looking him up and down, not in the slightest bit disturbed by the blood on him. “What happened?” He asks, gesturing at the man. 

“Oh. It’s nothing.” Bucky shrugs, giving Mav a half-smile. “Just got in a fight.” 

Mav eyes the coagulating blood, Bucky’s broken nose and the few rips in his clothes. After scrutinising for a bit, he grabs Bucky’s arm and drags him to the car. 

“What are you-“ 

“Come with us.” Is all Mav says as he all but drags Bucky back to where Ice and Slider are waiting in the car, watching in pure shock. 

=======

The ride back is an eerily silent one. The tension and awkwardness between Ice and Bucky is obvious, though Slider seems pretty alright with the entire situation. 

Once they’re back in Mav’s rental, Ice disappears into a room and Slider throws Bucky a towel. 

“Go wash off all that– that blood first,” he mutters, directing Bucky to the bathroom awkwardly. The man raises an eyebrow before stepping in and latching the door securely behind him.

Ten minutes later, the toilet door creaks open. Mav glances up from his bowl of Froot Loops when Bucky walks out, and promptly chokes on his cereal. 

Bucky is wearing absolutely nothing aside from a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still dripping water onto his tanned body, packed full with muscles. 

“What?” Bucky asks, bringing a hand up to his busted lip. 

“Nothing,” Mav replies quickly, turning back to his cereal.

Slider sighs, shaking his head as he heads into Mav’s room. He appears a while later holding a set of clothes and all but hurls it at Bucky just standing there. 

“For goodness sake, put something on. It might be a little small, though,” he snorts, “but that’s the biggest clothes this little shit has.” 

He ducks as a soft toy goes barreling towards his head. 

Bucky re-exits the bathroom a few moments later, prompting another round of snorts from Pete. The shirt Slider gave him fits him just about as well as a crop top would. The jeans don’t even reach his ankles and are so tight they look as if they could cut off all circulation to his legs.

Maverick tries his best to restrain himself and instantaneously fails, bursting out laughing yet again and clutching his stomach. The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches into a small smile and he shakes his head in exasperation, but his eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Here. Milk’s in the fridge.” Mav straightens, tears of laughter slipping down his face as he blindly slides the cereal box in Bucky’s general direction and it topples to the floor with a disappointing crash. 

The taller man bends down to grab it, wincing a bit at the ache in his ribs, and grabs the bowl from Slider, pouring the colourful cereal into it. As he takes his last spoonful, Mav perks up again. “Why’re you around here, though?” The little guy’s still smiling as he opens an overhead cupboard and takes out a first aid kit, setting it onto the counter. 

“… just my job.” 

Slider raises an eyebrow as he slides the kit over to Bucky. “Your job is getting beaten up?” 

Bucky actually laughs at that, a warm rumble that echoes through the kitchen. 

“No, not really, anyway.” He opens the kit, rummaging around for a moment, as if at a loss of what to do. 

“You should get that stitched up,” Pete points to the large gash on Bucky’s right arm, still bleeding slightly. 

“What– oh. It’s nothing much. Just a scratch.” 

“‘Just a scratch’ my ass,” Mav rolls his eyes, scoffing. “Here. Let me help you.” He pulls the first aid kit towards himself, selects a few items, then drags his chair over next to Bucky. Slider watches from the opposite end of the table, slightly surprised with how… relaxed Mav seems to be with Bucky. 

Bucky relaxes a bit, content to sit and watch Mav do his work. Yet an uneasy notion starts to grow at the back of his mind as he watches Mav prepare all his equipment with a strange sort of ease, like he’s used to doing this. 

He doesn’t know how to ask. “...How do you know how to do this? I mean, I know you’re not exactly the most… liked person, what with how we met, but…” he trails off, unwilling to think of the alternative.

The other man simply shrugs as he cleans the large gash with an alcohol swab. “Just a… useful skill to pick up, I suppose.” He doesn’t elaborate, and Bucky doesn’t really want to probe. 

Mav gingerly presses the point of the needle to one side of the cut, going through it and pulling it out on the other side. To a regular person, it would have hurt a lot, but strangely, Bucky doesn’t make a noise. In fact, he seems pretty much at ease. Strange. Mav crosses the thread over the cut and continues down the length of the wound, meticulously weaving in and out like a seamstress working at some fancy tapestry, finally tying the stitches off at the end. 

Mav cuts the thread, finished. He glances at Bucky’s vibranium left arm for a moment while he quickly bandages the stitched up slash. “What’s with the metal arm? Prosthetic?” He asks, genuinely curious. 

“Yeah. It’s a long story.” Bucky chuckles, though it’s clearly strained. “Just… had a bad fall, is all.” 

The way his voice got quieter as he spoke told Mav that that particular topic was a sensitive one. So he put it aside for now. 

“So where’re you going to go now? You got a house nearby?” 

It’s Slider who asks the question this time. Both heads turn to him. After a beat of hesitation, Bucky smiles softly. 

“Yeah, I got an apartment a while from here.” 

“How’re you getting back, then?” 

“Uh… walk?” 

Mav gives him a look that clearly says: Oh hell nah. You did NOT just say that. “Are you out of your mind?” 

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t have a car.” 

Mav sighs heavily, swiping a hand over his face. He ponders for a moment, then finally asks, “You know how to ride a bike?”   

“Yeah…?” Bucky’s expression is one of complete confusion. “But why–” 

He doesn’t even get to finish his question when Mav throws him something. He catches it automatically, realising that it’s a key, with some old looking jet keychain on it.

“What’s this for?” 

“Your transport back to your house. It’s getting late already. You can’t be walking all the way back in the dark.” 

“This is… your bike?” 

“Yep.” He seems weirdly proud about it. 

“But how am I supposed to return it to you?” 

Mav shrugs, not having considered that part yet. “Well… I’m not going to be going anywhere without these guys for quite some time, so I guess it doesn’t really matter, but you can just return it to me if you’re leaving town, or when we meet anytime or… whatever.” 

“Are… are you sure?” 

Mav nods. Bucky turns towards the door, but stops. “Hey… uh, thanks. For… all this.” He gestures vaguely. 

“Yeah, don’t mention it. Stay safe.” Slider nods. 

Buck can’t help but wonder a bit about Mav as he swings a leg over the eyeball-scorchingly red motorcycle. To put so much trust in him, a person he’s barely met? This guy, of all people, should be more careful… right? 

=======

The moment the front door closes behind Bucky, Slider turns to Mav. 

“I’ve never seen you trust someone so fast before, Pete.” He’s frowning slightly as he eyes Mav finishing his Froot Loops. 

The younger man offers a shrug as an answer. After a moment of awkward silence, he suddenly looks up, frowning. He turns to Slider, still standing at the exact same spot and staring back. 

“Hey, where’s Ice?” Mav asks, looking around. He just realised that he hadn’t seen the man since they walked into the house.

Slider’s eyes narrow. “You seriously mean you only realised now? I think something’s up with him. He doesn’t take too well to Bucky. Or something. I don’t know.” He pads up the stairs, headed for the guest room. 

Ice is laying on one of the beds in the guest room, curled up on the mattress with his back to the wall. Slider sits on the edge of the bed, cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder. Mav waits at the doorway, watching them. 

“Tom? Are you alright?” 

A slight shift is the only indication that he’s listening, but Ice still doesn’t reply for a long while, in which Sli and Mav just stay there, not saying a word. 

“Tom?” Slider prompts gently again. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” He frowns, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Go away.”

Slider takes the hint, standing up and moving for the door. “Suit yourself, kid. I’m going downstairs to make some hot chocolate.” Pete follows apprehensively.

Once the door shuts, he whisper-shouts, “So you’re just gonna take that as an answer? What if something’s wrong?” 

“He’s my younger brother. I know the brat. If he doesn’t want to talk, he won’t,” Slider shrugs. “Not yet, at least.”

“Just give him some time.”