Chapter Text
The night was setting in; evening light giving way to the creeping darkness. Not that it mattered to New York, which was putting on its own show of a million twinkling lights. There will be no nightfall in the city that never sleeps. It was a beautiful sight to see really. Especially from the vantage point of the spear of the Empire State Building.
But Peter didn’t feel like marveling at the spectacle. He would much rather the darkness engulfed everything around him and made him invisible.
It had been a difficult few months since Tony’s funeral. The sadness pervaded his very soul and wouldn't go away no matter how much time passed. People around him were sympathetic at first. But then they moved on. He was expected to do the same, only he couldn’t. He was constantly drowning, unable to breathe while the world around him went about it’s way, uncaring, undisturbed. It infuriated him to no end.
Peter descended from the spear to the observatory. It provided a nice view of the roof of the building in front where a trade was about to happen, or so they were told. Captain was waiting there, keeping an eye on the roof as well as Peter. He was always to be accompanied by a functioning adult (or a "designated babysitter" as Maria Hill had put it) on all missions since he sent two hydra suspects to hospital with multiple fractures instead of the interrogation facility in a fit of rage. This unwanted intrusion was only making it difficult for him to hide the fact that he still burst into tears for no fucking reason without warning and had occasional panic attacks that made him feel like he was going to die and left him curled up on the floor in a useless heap. The minute they found out, they were going to bench him.
Although he hated all his supervisors, he disliked the captain the least. His company was more tolerable and if it was his lucky day, even pleasant. The feeling must've been mutual too because Steve seemed to take on the job every time he wasn't out of town. In the beginning, Peter was just glad that Steve didn't give him the look of pity that he had come to expect from everyone - the look one gives to a kicked puppy - reminding him of his loss again and again and driving him crazy. But as time went by, he had actually come to enjoy the captain's presence. At any rate, he was glad that it was Steve Rogers meddling in his business than anyone else.
“Enjoying the view?” Cap greeted him.
“It’s alright… Any movement on the roof?"
"No not yet."
"They are an hour late. Since when did Hydra become so tardy??"
"Be patient. They'll be here."
"How do you know?"
"I trust the intel."
"Maybe it was bad intel."
"No it wasn't."
"You don't know that! "
"Yes I do."
"We should call it off. They're not coming"
"Kid, I've been dealin' with Hydra since before you were born so sit down, shut up and keep your eyes open."
"Okay okay jeez Mr Rogers calm down"
Turned out, Cap was right. The agents did show up - two hours later than expected.
It was supposed to be a fairly simple task - ambush the trade, recover the stolen equipment and send the captured agents to the underground SHIELD facility in Manhattan. But things went awry right from the start. As soon as he descended on the roof, Peter sensed that something was horribly wrong. He expected to make swift work of the two men. Instead, he found himself surrounded by five Hydra agents, armed to the teeth with what looked like sophisticated weapons, clearly lying in wait for him.
He hadn't set the ambush, he had walked into one.
Never in his life had Peter been more glad to be accompanied by his babysitter.
The men surrounding him didn't hear it but his super-senses caught the unmistakable whistle of the captain's shield when it flew past him and lodged itself into the chest of the agent in front of him. Before anyone could react, captain jumped on one of the men and took him down. It was a complete blur after that, bullets, webs and the shield flying every which way.
Peter acted solely on instinct, largely because his conscious mind was locked into a flashback.
Sound of bullets being fired.. rocks shattering under pressure.. blood.. the infinity stones glowing in their gauntlet.. "half of humanity will still be alive".. blood.. the shield finding its target, making a sickening snap.. more blood.. the sinking feeling of his body dissolving into thin air…
What brought him back to reality was a resounding punch to the temple that sent him flying into the air for a good few feet before he landed on the gravel. Captain took care of the last man standing and was swiftly by his side, helping him on his feet.
"You OK kid? What the hell happened there?"
"Nothing nothing.. I got a little distracted that's all.. I'm fine Cap."
"No you're not actually. You're bleeding."
For the first time, Peter registered the sharp pain on the side of his head where the agent had punched him. He felt the site and it was wet. The man must have been wearing some augmentation on his fist because whatever it was, it had torn through the suit and broken his skin.
"Oh.. I didn't notice. It's alright. I heal fast. I'll be good as new in the morning."
"It's going to leave an ugly scar if we don't patch it up properly. Let's get you to the tower and-
"NO. No not the tower. I'll be fine Mr Rogers I swear. Let me just rest a little okay?"
"Peter, I'm not letting you go without taking a look at that wound."
"Fine, just anywhere but the tower…"
Captain raised a puzzled eyebrow but relented. "Alright, there's a safe house in Brooklyn. We'll go there. It has supplies to fix you up."
"Great. Let's go."
After handing over the mess on the roof to a SHIELD team, they took off.
The safe house was in a nice neighborhood, not fancy but not very shady either.
Inside, the apartment was sparsely decorated, but still managed to pass off as pretty.
As Steve went inside to get the medical kit, Peter stood in the living room, not knowing where to go or what to do. He explored the strangely empty looking living room and kitchen. It was clear that it was once a fully furnished, modern flat but had since been stripped of most of its non essential decor, the remnants of which were still visible in the yet untouched kitchen, which still had all the fancy gadgets an amateur chef would need to play around.
And then he saw it - a sketchbook, lying on the dining table. It looked old too, worn out with loose pages sticking out from all directions. He picked it up. The cardboard felt worse for wear. He flipped it open and suddenly he was looking into the eyes of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes…
It must have been a different time when the portrait was drawn because he was actually smiling. Oh - and he also had both of his original arms. He was sitting at the window, looking at Peter, or whoever drew him. Warm eyes, filled with adoration and a gentle smile. He looked so… content; without a care in the world. So full of life. It was hard to believe that Peter had encountered the same man just a few short months ago, a broken thing, a shadow of what he apparently used to be…
"It was a happier time…"
Peter almost jumped out of his suit. Cap was standing in the entrance of the living room, behind him.
"Oh hey Mr Rogers, sorry I - I didn't mean to spy I just got curious…"
"It's alright. I don't mind." Captain said with a reassuring smile.
"When was this?"
"Before the war… as I said, it was a happier time. More difficult, sure, but still things were good. We were good""
"He looks so…
"Not winter soldier?" Steve said what Peter didn't want to. It was true. There was no trace of the murderous assassin Peter had come to know in the person staring back at him so fondly.
"This is not a safe house is it? It's your house"
"Yeah. Now let's take a look at that" cap said pointing to his wound. "Come with me"
Peter followed him to the bathroom where medical supplies were set on the counter.
"Get up there," Steve said and he obeyed, setting himself up beside the kit.
"This will sting a little" he warned Peter and with a delicate hand, started to clean the wound with an antiseptic swab.
The wound had already started to heal but it was going to leave a scar in the gash if it wasn't sutured properly.
He took out the sutures.
"Wait wait wait… you're not actually sewing me up are you?
"Of course! Who else is here?"
"No Way! Absolutely not! I'm not letting you touch my face with that thing!!!" Peter said pointing to the curved needle in Steve's hand.
"Hey, I tried to send you to a proper facility but you didn't wanna. Now be quiet and let me work."
Steve set the suturing set on the counter and rummaged through the bag till he found a vial of clear liquid and a disposable syringe and needle.
"What the hell is that??!!" New terror gripped Peter.
"Calm down ya big baby, it's the anesthetic. You want me to sew you up just like that??"
Steve took the liquid in vial into the syringe and injected it into several spots around the wound. Almost immediately, Peter felt the stinging in his temple go numb. He relaxed a little. Then Steve took the needle and sutures out of their packet and got to work.
He was quite adept at the task, to Peter's surprise.
"You're good at this Mr Rogers" he said with a hint of admiration in his voice.
"Thank you" Steve replied with a smile.
"Where did you learn?"
"Bucky taught me… I used to get in trouble all the time. It always fell on him to patch me up. By the time we were shipped to Europe, he had become quite a seamstress" Steve said with a chuckle.
"Of course, we didn't have anything fancy back then. Mostly just the things you could find around the house. But he always managed to do the job. He actually taught all the howling commandos how to tend to wounds."
"Why?!"
"Well, you never knew when would be the next time you saw a doctor on the battlefield.
When he got back, his psychiatrists wanted him to take up some new activity to get his mind off of things, so he took up knitting."
"What!!?? Oh my god!"
"I know," Steve said with a laugh "it helped him keep himself grounded. He was actually getting quite good at it too, before… well, you know…"
Peter did know. Just a month or so after Tony's funeral, he got the news of Bucky's breakdown and the rampage he went on in the newly built Avengers compound. Thankfully, the AI running the facility contained him before he could hurt anyone but he still did considerable damage. He was shipped to Wakanda that very night to spend some time in cryosleep until they could figure out how to deprogram him; god knew how long that was going to take.
They both fell quiet for some time after that. The only sound was the needle entering and exiting the skin and sutures being cut.
"You must miss him…"
"Terribly."