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Peter nervously rubbed the hem of his shirt, glancing between Fury and the data files in front of him. From the title pages, the Avengers looked at Parker; they were heroes who had saved many lives and, for the first time, seemed to need help from the outside. Quiet and inconspicuous.
“Director, are you sure I’m your best bet?” Peter held his gaze on a picture of Captain America. “I knew one of ‘em back then and our deal was I’d not meet anyone from my past life... especially not him,” Parker looked up at Nick, studying the expression on his face.
“Yes,” Fury said, “and the chances of you meeting each other are very slim. Your first priority is to protect Stark’s equipment when the thief comes after it.”
“But why can’t you just tell Stark about the impending theft?” squinting, Peter asked, feeling that the director was again not telling him something.
“Classified,” Fury said with a chuckle, handing Parker a bulkier folder with SHIELD insignia. “All your cover information is in here.”
Peter opened the folder and, honest to God, tried not to groan in anger and frustration at the same time.
“Eric Byrne? You seriou... great, I’m also a sixteen-year-old schoolboy,” Parker hissed in annoyance as he flipped the page, “geek, nerd, pacifist, drooling over a popular girl. Classic. Have you been watching teen movies?” Peter asked, raising one eyebrow.
“This is your psychological portrait from the thirties,” the director informed Parker calmly. “You’re a lousy actor, and you don’t have to play here.”
“Well, first, I wasn’t drooling over a dame,” Peter snorted, flipping through the pages that described the cover for the mission to find the ones with information about the object someone wanted to steal, “and second, Nick, I’m not that teenager anymore.
“That’s the best strategy of all, Parker,” Fury replied sharply, standing up from his chair. “The ‘sixteen again’ starts tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
##
“Hey, Eric boy, get up,” Peter’s shoulder was slapped with a loud clap with someone’s palm. “Why are you so glum? Don’t you wanna take a walk with me, see if it cheers you up?” said Flash Thompson in a kind of nasty, smug voice.
“Piss off,” Parker muttered without even lifting his head from the desk, reminding himself that hitting kids was bad, and that it might blow his cover.
This annoying teenager picked on him as soon as he allegedly transferred here from Florida. Thompson was the type of person he had met quite a few times in his real high school life, before the war, when all he had cared about had been his own scraped knees from a fall, Stevie’s bruised cheekbone and his bleeding nose and always red knuckles.
“Why, bae, tired?” stroking Peter’s hair, Flash asked him caringly.
“Thompson, leave him alone,” came a gruff voice from the right, belonging to Ned Leeds, a guy Parker had gotten on well with in the three and a half weeks he had been playing the twitchy, shy schoolboy. “Mrs Jones is coming.”
Peter felt Flash, who had been breathing down his neck, vanish instantly. The chemistry teacher did not like the teenager, and though she did not advertise it much, she would not miss an opportunity to give Thompson a reprimand.
“Thanks, man,” Peter said, stretching and yawning, “helped me out,” he added in a whisper as he opened his notebook.
Leeds only winked, opening his notebook and getting ready to listen to the teacher. Mrs Jones was saying something about the nomenclature of chemicals, while Peter, pretending to listen carefully, was sketching the plan of SI.
“Mr Byrne,” Parker looked up at the teacher, “since you’re distracted, can you tell us what this chemical compound is called according to IUPAC?”
“It’s penten-four-ol-two,” Peter answered quickly, glancing at the structural formula for a second.
The teacher nodded, continuing the lesson, but now glancing at Parker from time to time.
When there were about seven or eight minutes left before the end of the lesson, Mr Harrington entered the classroom, politely interrupting the chemistry teacher.
“Mrs Jones, sorry to interrupt, but we have an excursion,” he explained.
“Sure, you can go, you’ll have your homework in the mail.”
As soon as Mr Harrington waved to the class, the teenagers began to rush out of the classroom as if they were being chased. Peter kept up, too, knowing that the sooner it started, the sooner it would be over. And even though the thief was not likely to show up sooner, which was a good thing, but still, school trips had never really been his favorite part of teenage life.
“Hey, Eric, do you think we’ll meet Tony Stark himself?” Ned asked in a voice full of admiration as he entered the yellow school bus. “It’s gonna be so-so cool, dude!”
Peter snorted, knowing full well that the chances of meeting Stark were pretty low, thanked to Fury’s plan.
“Yeah, that would be awesome!” Parker smiled, nodding. “I’ve always wanted to meet Stark,” junior, “you know what a huge fan I am,” or rather his father’s fan, Peter exclaimed as he sat down next to the window.
Ned nodded quickly, agreeing with everything Parker had said. Leeds, sitting down next to him, continued to talk about the upcoming excursion, speculating about which floors and levels they would be allowed on.
Peter hummed through the phrases, occasionally nodding at all of Ned’s assumptions, looking out the window. Queens whizzing by did not even partially resemble the Brooklyn of the forties. Even ‘today’ Brooklyn did not look like ‘then’ Brooklyn, not at all.
"Hey, Pete, what d’ya think of this place?” Barnes stopped next to Parker, raising his gaze to the bar sign.
“Well...” Peter squinted jokingly, eyeing the building, “are you sure celebrating your birthday in this bar is what you need?” turning to the boyfriend, he asked.
Barnes snorted, pulling Parker to him and, furtively looking around, kissed the top of his head. Peter smiled contentedly in his arms, snuggling closer.
“All I need's ya and Stevie,” James whispered into Peter’s hair, “And the bar’s just a way to have fun”.
“Hey! Hey, Eric!” Ned’s shouting brought Peter out of his memories. “Are you listening?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry,” the sudden flashback was a very bad sign, “were you saying something?” Peter had warned Fury from the beginning that this was not a good idea, and now those stupid fragments of the past were ready to eat him alive. Great.
“I asked, what do you think of this place, dude?” Parker flinched at the similarity of the phrase, not ready for Leeds to almost quote him.
“Well...” Peter drawled, looking shocked at SI outside the bus windows, “Awesome!” it was the absolute truth, because the skyscraper was unbelievable.
“Everybody, listen, no crowding, no running or shouting,” Mr Harrington looked at the excited class with a stern look. “Okay?”
The teenagers nodded quickly and, getting the teacher’s approval, quickly ran toward the exit, ignoring Mr Harrington’s dejected sigh.
“Dude, hurry up,” Ned grabbed Peter by the sleeve of his sweatshirt and pulled him toward the exit of the bus. Amazingly nimble for a chubby guy.
“Class, please, stop that,” Mr Harington tried to calm down Peter’s classmates, who were already crowding in front of SI. “Flash, stop pushing. Liz, look up from your phone. Michelle, stop making that disgruntled face. I…”
“Hello,” a woman in a pantsuit approached the teenagers. “I’m your guide for the day,” Peter frowned, trying to remember if he had seen this woman on the SI employee list. “My name is Melinda Smith,” he thought so, but she was listed as a security officer, not an intern or a PR employee, and usually it was the employees from the latter two departments who gave tours.
“Nice to meet you, miss Smith,” Mr Harrington pulled out some papers and handed them to the woman.
“Okay, thank you,” miss Smith quickly looked over the papers and nodded. “Yeah, well, class, tell me, how many levels of access do you think the tower has? And which one will be assigned to you?”
“There’re ten levels, and we’ll be assigned level two, but with some additions,” Flash said quickly, jumping out of the crowd and getting in the front rows. “Am I right?”
“Yes,” the woman nodded, “Before you go into the tower, I’ll tell you about basic safety techniques,” miss Smith handed papers to a guy, probably an intern, who approached, taking from him plastic name tags with green twos on them. “Everyone should pick up their name badge, please don’t lose them until the end of the tour. Then you can pick it up as a souvenir.”
While the guide talked about safety techniques and the tour plan, Peter gazed at the skyscraper with admiration, noticing again how much everything had changed over the last seventy years.
“Imagine, in the future, there’ll be flying cars, huge houses that’ll cut through the clouds with their roofs,” Peter whispered quietly, lying on his back and looking at the starry sky, “and there won't be this war, because we’ll win.”
James laughed hoarsely, pulling his fella to him and hugging him tightly. It was quiet around there, which meant no one would bother them anytime soon, so Barnes yanked Parker closer to him, making Peter lay on top of him.
“What’s the point of this future, this innovation, if we ain't allowed to be together without fear, without sidelong glances, without dirty insults because of hugs that are jus’ a second longer than a friendly ones, spidey?” James stroked Parker’s back gently, feeling Peter poke his cold nose on his neck. “Winning one war ‘s cool, but ours against everyone else sounds almost impossible.”
Parker laughed, too, biting Barnes on the neck and slipping his hands under James’ camouflage shirt. James exhaled quietly through his teeth, feeling his fella’s cool fingers on his ribs.
“Ya sure ya wanna keep goin’, spidey?” Barnes said, sliding his hand down Peter’s waist and squeezing his ass lightly through the pants.
“Maybe I am,” Parker drawled, pulling away. “James,” Peter sit on top of Barnes, saddling him up and looking straight into his incredible blue eyes, “we’ll win both wars, we’ll do the impossible, twice,” Parker swore, leaning down again and whispering right into his lips, “three times, if necessary.”
“Eric, dude, you’re daydreaming again,” Ned shook Peter gently, “c’mon, everyone’s inside.”
“Oh, yeah,” Parker said in a halting voice, waving away the pieces of the past again.
“Our tour begins on the tenth and eleventh floors, where the human resources department is located,” miss Smith said, walking toward the elevators. “These are the floors everyone passes through when they get an internship or a job.”
Cutting off the tour guide’s unnecessary now narration, Parker examined the entrances and exits, the vast number of windows, and the disguised ventilation through the elevator glass. In fact, the lower floors were built quite well tactically and strategically. Security, both internal and external, was at a high level. There were, of course, opportunities for snipers at some places from the buildings around, but not as much as it seemed at first glance.
“...the tower has security protocols against just about everything in the world,” miss Smith exited the elevator on the tenth floor without stopping to tell the narrative. “Many protocols provide protection against aliens, gods, and enemies armed with unknown weapons.”
“What ‘bout the robberies?” Ned, walking beside Peter, asked with interest. “Is that even possible?”
“No,” the guide replied with a shrug. “None of the robbery scenarios have been successful.” Parker noticed that despite miss Smith’s relaxed demeanor, she looked at Ned very wary and attentive.
“‘Scenarios’?” frowning slightly, Peter asked. “You mean you’ve created artificial models of every possible way to steal?” Parker clarified with a slight disbelief.
“Well, maybe not all, but many,” miss Smith said, approaching one of the desks with computers, “but don’t forget that this tower has an AI that monitors security,” turning one of the monitors toward the teenagers, the tour guide continued to explain, showing one of the artificially created models of robbery.
Peter frowned harder, not liking where all this talk about Tower security had gone. And the whole mission in general, as he had said more than once. If SI was so well guarded, why had Fury sent him there in the first place. Of course, Parker knew there were loopholes in every system, but you would have to be Sherlock at the very least to find them here.
Next, the tour guide took them to the lower-level access labs, which were enough to impress the teenagers and slightly interest Peter. Miss Smith was just talking about a recent development that would allow oxygen to be injected into a person’s bloodstream without harming them when Peter’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
‘Plans have changed. Stark is aware of the robbery. Keep a low profile if your secret is important to you.’
Peter bit his lip, trying to write back discreetly.
‘I did tell you it was a terrible idea and what do you mean ‘keep a low profile’, Fury, what’s going on?’
Nick did not answer, which was starting to piss Parker off, especially since he mentioned the secret, which was essentially a deal with Fury - Peter did missions without question, the SHIELD kept quiet about his existence.
“Next on the plan is the Avengers Museum,” miss Smith threw a quick glance at her watch. “Then a short break for lunch.”
The teenagers hummed happily as they followed the woman to the elevator. Parker lagged behind, glancing irritably at the phone in his hand, as if the gadget was to blame for the situation.
The museum greeted the teenagers with a large hologram in the center with all the heroes in full battle gear. Peter froze abruptly, looking at Rogers in his old suit.
“Hey! Hey, Peter!” somebody’s loud, familiar voice tried to attract the attention of Parker sitting on the edge of the camp. ”Peter!”
Parker turned around, looking at Stevenson, one of his subordinates, who was tapping excitedly on the stock of his rifle. The skinny guy stammered through each step, hurrying toward his superior.
“Captain America saved ours!” the private looked at Parker with weirdly glistening eyes. “Not just ours, really, but... Sergeant Barnes, he’s with ‘em!”
Peter jumped up quickly from the ground, dropping down the rifle he was holding. Ignoring the fallen weapon, Parker dashed past Stevenson toward the center of the camp.
There was a huge crowd of worn-out soldiers with strange weapons surrounding Steve, Carter, and, oh, God. James was standing to Steve’s right, — what the hell was Rogers even wearing, was that a performance suit?! — looking for someone.
Not giving two fucks about some possible consequences, Parker resolutely made his way through the crowd to the two idiots, who were sure to get their asses kicked, but later. First a disheveled and tired James, who finally noticed him.
Barnes cuddled him tightly and so, so rightly, as if they could not get court-martialed just because of this gesture of affection.
“James, here we are together again,” Peter whispered softly, embracing his rescued boyfriend.
Barnes laughed quietly into the top of Parker’s head, not daring to nuzzle his nose into the favorite brown curls. Peter understood him perfectly, holding on tightly to the khaki shirt.
“Against everyone else,” Barnes said, pulling Parker even tighter against him.
Peter shook his head sharply from side to side, getting rid of the haunting images of the past. No one from the class was around anymore, the teenagers scattered around the museum, examining sections of each Avenger, taking pictures.
“What, Parker, are you dizzy with admiration?” Flash looked out from behind the Captain America booth, raising an eyebrow in feigned concern.
Peter frowned, waved Thompson away, and walked around the statues of heroes.
“What did you...?” Parker instantly turned back to the innocently smiling Flash, noting something rectangular in Thompson’s left hand out of the corner of his eye.
“Oops,” Thompson shrugged nonchalantly, coming closer to a frozen Peter, who was thanking all gods that the other teenagers had left the main hall. “It’s weird, you know, looking at someone my grandfather was friends with in the thirties. Considering you look twenty at the most,” Parker was stepping back, occasionally maneuvering to keep Flash from going behind him.
Thompson chuckled, raising his left hand and displaying a mini detonator. Peter only raised one eyebrow skeptically, stealthily putting the web-shooters on alert.
“I’ll take that one. You know, it’s risky to play with such a dangerous thing,” Stark’s voice and the man himself were too much of a surprise guest. “You might accidentally press and detonate all the bombs in this building, and believe me, there’re a lot of ‘em here.”
Parker took a closer look at the mini console now held by Tony, who was standing two steps away from him. There were two things on top of everything else that bothered Peter right now — how Stark had managed to sneak up on him so invisibly, and who was the man behind him who was aiming just above his shoulder.
“Even taking that away from me won’t stop everything else,” Thompson smirked, looking Tony straight in the eyes.
“Right, ‘cause you’re the cherry on the cake,” Stark calmly shrugged, shifting his gaze to the standing Peter, who looked so much like a deer caught in the headlights. “Your friend helped us stop your heist back at the beginning,” Tony hummed, looking at Flash again.
Parker frowned, not understanding how he helped, where he made a mistake, and gave himself away. The phone in his back pocket buzzed, notifying him about a message.
Shit.
“He’s yours,” Stark nodded toward the door, where the security officers showed up almost immediately.
Parker was still standing there, watching as they took Thompson away, and feeling the man behind him put his gun down, taking Flash out of the aim.
“So, baby agent,” did Stark just call him a child? “How’s Nick doing?”
Peter jerked his shoulders nervously, feeling the man standing behind him begin to approach him.
“I suggested he let you know right away, Mr Stark,” Parker shrugged, trying to figure out how much he could say without giving himself away, but to spite Fury. “But he didn’t like that idea. He doesn’t seem to like you.”
Tony snorted, shaking his head. The man who had been aiming at Thompson walked past and stopped as he approached Stark.
Oh, God.
Peter blinked in shock and opened his mouth as if about to say something. He scowled slightly.
“Y...you...” Parker tried to say something coherent as he looked at him, noting the long hair, the more muscular figure, the unfamiliar cold expression, the metal hand. “Alive.”
Peter was scared. Scared that this was just a hallucination, that he was about to disappear into thin air.
Parker stumbled, coming too close to be considered appropriate and looking into the familiar eyes, completely ignoring Tony’s presence.
“Peter, here we are together again,” Barnes whispered too quietly, almost inaudibly, softly tracing his fella’s cheekbones with the thumb of his normal hand.
Parker felt his body begin to tremble as he clutched James in an embrace. Barnes, feeling Peter shiver, hugged him even tighter, nuzzling his nose into the favorite brown curls.
“Against everyone else,” the first tears fell from Parker’s eyes in seventy years.
“Holy shit,” Tony drawled in surprise, looking at Peter Parker, his father’s great creation from seventy years ago, and Bucky Barnes, longtime best friend of Captain America, who for seventy-ish years against his own will had been the weapon of HYDRA. “Okay, so I was right when I tried to prove my history teacher that you, Barnes, weren’t exactly hetero, even though you had a bunch of affairs with girls, and that you’re definitely hooking up with your ‘spidey’.”
Peter laughed involuntarily through tears at Stark’s satisfied tone, knowing full well that James was smiling, too.
“We’ve done the impossible, three times,” Barnes muttered quietly into Peter’s ear.