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It isn’t the worst cage Peter’s ever been locked in. Actually, it’s kind of nice. A little doom and gloom, not much lighting, but he’s relaxed, with his back propped up against the black brick wall behind him and his legs kicked out in front of him.
That’s the mark of a good detainment, he decides, leg room.
Even if his company doesn’t appreciate their mission, and current situation for what it is, quality bonding time, Peter doesn’t care. He’s determined to make the best of it.
Bucky sits in the corner, half his back against the unbreakable bars (he spent the first thirty minutes of their imprisonment trying to snap them in half with his metal arm) and half against the bricks. Sam’s sitting next to the door, occasionally glancing at the hinges, and trying to work out a way to trick it into opening.
Their sulky silence is getting old, and Peter begins tapping his fingers against the concrete floor. Without any noise to focus on his extra sensitive hearing branches out in all different angles. He can hear the leaky pipes, the rotting wood of the ancient building they’re stuck underneath, and the monsters upstairs, clinking together wine glasses filled with blood.
“Do you think if the vampires suck my blood they’ll turn into spider-vampires?” Peter asks them.
Bucky narrows his eyes and tilts his head at him.
Sam grimaces, then shakes his head. “Now we are. Do us a favor and don’t get bit by one.”
The cage returns to silence, and Peter becomes more fidgety, more anxious to avoid overhearing anymore of the vampire dinner party happening up above. He tries not to let his mind drift to the unlikely hood of his plan not working, and that if it doesn’t, two of them will end up as appetizers.
“Seriously, guys,” says Peter. “If they turn me and I end up biting your neck, you have full permission to stab me with a stake and light my body on fire.”
“I’m already considering that, actually, just to shut you up,” says Sam.
“Hang on,” Bucky pipes in. “How do you know they’re gonna pick you?”
“Well it’s obvious isn’t it,” says Peter, without blinking. “Vladdy said they’ll kill two of us and turn one, and I’m the most capable vampire candidate.”
“How’s that?” Bucky presses more, seeming, almost, slightly offended.
“I’m youngest, the strongest, half-spider. It’s a no-brainer.”
“I’m more menacing. And the strongest part is debatable.”
“But you’re pretty old, no offense,” Peter points out. “And you’ve become way less murdery over the years, so I’m still thinking they’ll pick me.”
“Will you two can it?” Sam stands up and grips the handle of the cell door. “They’re not picking any one of us because we’re getting out of here. Stop arguing about nonsense and help me think of a plan.”
“Already got a plan,” says Peter, with a shrug.
Bucky and Sam glare at him.
“Look all we gotta do is get Bucky to hit them with his silver arm, and poof, vampire problem is solved.”
“Peter,” says Sam, after a long pause and a long breath. “It’s werewolves that don’t like silver. And Bucky’s arm is metal, it’s not made from silver.”
“Same difference, same color. Besides vampires and werewolves are like the same thing? They both have pointy teeth and like to eat people, so what’s the difference, really?”
“I guess now we know why Bella had just a hard time picking between Edward and Jacob,” says Bucky, leaning his head back against the bars. Sam and Peter stare at him. “What? The Tower gets boring sometimes and Scott lets me borrow his books.”
Before Peter could point out that it was always obvious Bella was going to choose Edward, the door at the top of the basement door creaks open. They all fall silent as the vampire, wearing a black suit and a velvet cape descends the stairs. His pale skin made him glow, almost, even in the darkness of the room.
Peter takes a deep breath and stands. “Hey, Count Chocula, mind letting us out of here? Didn’t anyone ever tell you? It’s rude to keep your guests waiting.”
The vampire doesn’t respond. Instead he continues to approach the cage, walking so graceful for a few seconds Peter thinks he’s gliding. When he gets to the bars of the cage, Peter steps up next to Sam.
He knows he has to be fast, and he is. With one fluid moment, he takes the small, but sharp, wooden stake out of his pocket and stabs it through the heart of the vampire on the other side of the cage. Vladdy falls to his knees, red eyes filled with pain, and Peter takes a step backwards and down on his knees, too.
“Quick!! Before you die, which one of us was gonna be turned vampire?”
He opens his mouth to answer but falls flat on the concrete before he can reply.
“Damnit. Whatever. He was gonna say me.”
Sam punches him on the arm. “Did you have that this entire time?”
“Yes,” says Peter. He shrugs. “We were vampire hunting. I had to have supplies.”
“Might’ve been nice to mention it, Pete.”
“We were bonding.” It’s his only defense, and the truth. He can handle vampires on his own, but why do that when he can also invite Sam and Bucky? “Besides I didn’t think we’d need it. It was my backup plan.”
For the third time the cage falls silent. Sam glares at him, while Bucky searches the dead vampire corpse and finds the key to their cage. He unlocks it and they spill out into freedom, the three of the looking around the dark basement, then finally up the stairs, the only way down of the coven’s house.
“Got anymore supplies?” asks Sam.
With a grin, Peter pulls three small gold and red Iron Man water guns from his pocket. “They have Holy Water inside. There’s this lawyer I know in Hell’s Kitchen. He knows a few priests.”
Sam and Bucky each take a water gun from Peter.
“They just had to be Iron Man…” Bucky’s voice trails off as the shadow of more vampires appear in the doorway at the top of the creaky, wooden stairs.
“I’m borrowing them from Morgan.”
“Of course.”
What happens next is the highlight of Peter’s week. It’s a water gun fight, except he’s shooting actual vampires and watching them crumple to the ground, scream, and be wiped from existence. He’s doing pretty good, too, until he’s out of water gun and gets cornered by one he hadn’t seen coming.
“Oh shit, oh shit,” he repeats, voice getting higher, as his back hits the wall. He puts his arms up to protect himself, bracing for a bite that would bring about the reality of spider-vampires, but it never comes.
Instead, he hears more screaming, and when he looks, he sees the strangest sight since he walked in on Tony brushing Gerald’s fur. It’s the vampire, biting down on Bucky’s arm, and wringing in pain as Bucky pushes it off, its teeth remaining in his arm, pulled straight from the vampire’s mouth.
Sam is quick to put the creature out of its misery with a few sprays from the water gun.
And that’s it. They’re done. They’re three Avengers standing in a basement with a dead coven laying at their feet.
“That was… so awesome!” says Peter. He takes a step closer, and examines the teeth stuck in Bucky’s arm. “I knew your prosthetic would come in handy.” He looks at Sam. “See? My plan worked.”
“Barely.”
Together they do the last part of their job. They get a gallon of gasoline, pour it over the house, and light a match. Sam drops it in the basement where all the bodies lay, and they sprint from the house and watch from the yard as it begins to burn.
“That was fun,” Peter decides out loud. “We gotta hang out again sometime.”
Sam puts a hand on his shoulder. “Next time we’re going bowling.”
Bucky’s too preoccupied trying to remove the teeth that are still lodged in his arm to offer anything meaningful to their conversation.
“By bowling do you mean- “
“-actual bowling,” says Sam. “No vampires. No aliens. No freaky giant lizards.”
“Oh,” says Peter, deflating at first, but then after thinking about it, “That sounds nice, actually.”
“I think I’m gonna need Stark to build me another arm,” mutters Bucky.
Sam whistles his agreement, and they turn their attention upward again, where the house, along with the monsters inside, are burning to the ground.