Chapter Text
"Hey, did you notice that guy with the baseball cap on the corner back there?" MJ whispered to Peter, the two of them tucked into a seat on the bus. Her eyes darted around as if to double check that no one else was listening in. "I think I've seen him outside our school a few times," she added, her words still quiet.
Peter nodded, tucking his arm around his girlfriend. While his Spider sense was annoying at times, it did come in handy in situations like these. As soon as they left school, that gentle but prickly sensation darted along his spine, notifying him of the potential danger. He had spotted the man following them a few blocks back, and decided to hop this bus just before it pulled away in hopes of shaking their tail without freaking MJ out.
"Maybe he works in the neighbourhood or something, but he definitely needs to work on his fashion sense," Peter said with a fake chuckle, watching MJ's reaction carefully. But then she smiled and made a comment about the jeans the man had on that day, and Peter inwardly sighed. He would deal with it later that night, as Spiderman. Because anyone following MJ was simply unacceptable.
*****
Bucky was on his way back from his weekly meal with Leah, his belly filled to the limit with food. This time they decided to try a new dumpling hut in ChinaTown; it had only taken one bite of their peking duck dumpling and Bucky mentally bumped the restaurant up to his top three in the area. Their conversation had been lively and fun, and Bucky once again thanked Sam in his head for convincing him to try to mend things with Leah after their disastrous date. Leah was a good friend.
It was relatively late, as they had gone over after her shift, and so the streets were dark, with minimal pedestrians; exactly how Bucky preferred it. The big crowds and the typical bustle of New York City made him wish for the peace and serenity he had back in Wakanda. A loud clang and a muffled 'Ow!' in the alley he just passed brought him out of his daydreaming. Stopping abruptly, Bucky back tracked to the alley, wanting to make sure that no one was hurt.
In a matter of seconds after he entered the alley, his hands were pinned up against the brick lined wall, quickly followed by his feet. Straining against the material, Bucky panicked at his inability to move, shocked that something was strong enough to stop his Vibranium arm. Then, Bucky recognized the material as the same as the webs from that kid in Germany, and groaned out loud. He hated to admit it, but the only reason that he and Sam had gotten out of the webs so quickly before was because of Redwing. That annoying flying heap of metal.
"Wait, is that you, Sergeant Barnes?" A young voice asked, stepping out of the corner.
Bucky had been right, it was the spider kid, although it looked like his suit had been upgraded. "Yeah, it's me, kid," Bucky said, tilting his head in the direction of the webs. "Got anything to dissolve these?"
But Peter was shaking his head, taking another step forward towards Bucky. "No way, not until you tell me why you've been stalking MJ and I," Peter said, as he glared daggers at Bucky.
Bucky was actually impressed with the look he was receiving, the kid had definitely stepped up in his skills since their tangle in Germany. He got the sense that Peter wasn't kidding, but he wasn't really sure how to word his response.
"Look, kid, first of all, I wanted to check in on you, make sure you were doing okay after...well you know," Bucky explained, not wanting to bring up Tony's funeral. Peter had been devastated. Bucky remembered him clearly, tears coursing down his face as he stood with Pepper and Morgan, Pepper’s arm wrapped tightly around both kids. Tony was obviously very important to him. And Tony was on his list, even though there was no way to ever cross him off now. So keeping an eye on the kid, superpowers or not, felt like the least he could do.
Peter folded his arms, not looking impressed. "I'm not a little kid, Sergeant, I can take care of myself."
Bucky just nodded, not willing to get into an argument over how young Peter was, as it wasn't much of a difference to when he and Steve were in the army. But Peter still wasn't making a move to free him.
Letting his head drop lightly against the wall behind him, Bucky took a moment to think about how he was going to explain the rest of his reason for tracking down Peter. He never liked asking for help, even though he knew he needed it now. "And because I could use some advice," Bucky admitted, settling on the most simplest explanation and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the expression on Peter's face.
"What kind of advice?" Peter asked wearily, taking another step closer to Bucky.
"I've been trying to do some research, you know? About the civil rights movement, Black history, defunding the police, but I keep getting stuck. I don't really understand how to use the internet and Leah told me that I can't ask Sam, that it's not his job to teach me," Bucky paused, risking a peek at Peter, who seemed to be listening attentively. So he continued. "I noticed that your girlfriend...is coloured? Is that the right word these days? And thought you could maybe help me out...or at least teach me how to use Google," Bucky explained, surprised at his own ramblings.
It was all true. Ever since that awkward incident with the police outside of Isiah’s house, and Sam trying to explain what the shield meant to him, as a Black man, Bucky realized how little he understood. But if he was going to continue working with Sam, and hopefully keep being his friend, he needed to learn. And quickly.
"Well first of all Sergeant, we definitely don't say coloured anymore," Peter said cheerfully, but not rudely, as he reached for a can in his belt. Starting to spray what Bucky assumed to be web dissolver, Peter started freeing Bucky from his confines. "The most commonly used term these days is people of colour, and now, depending who you speak to, that can have a lot of issues too, but I think it's the safest one to use," Peter explained, as the last of the webs disappeared.
Bucky nodded, rubbing his wrists where the web material had been. He waited for Peter’s response to his question.
"I'll do this on two conditions," Peter said, passing his phone to Bucky to enter his contact number.
"And what are they?” Bucky asked, a little concerned at what Peter might ask.
"First, that you stop following MJ and I. She still doesn’t know about all this,” Peter explained, motioning at his outfit. At Bucky’s nod, he continued. “And that one of these days, my partner can meet your partner," Peter said, looking at Bucky seriously.
Bucky grinned, and reached out his hand to seal the deal. "But please, just call me Bucky," he asked, not wanting to be called by his rank the whole time. Peter promised to text him once he double-checked his school schedule and Bucky headed back towards his apartment, feeling a bit better about having a plan.
*****
Maybe Bucky had been a little over zealous when he had spoken to Peter earlier that week. Because now, as he stood in front of the American History Section in the Brooklyn Public Library, he was overwhelmed. There were hundreds of books written on the Civil Rights Movement alone, and here they were, crammed tightly in the shelves which towered high enough that there was a small step stool nearby. He had no idea where to start.
Peter had helped Bucky sign up for a library card, smirking a bit at Bucky’s undercover name, ‘James Jones’. Why he had to end up with a first name and last name with the same letter, he couldn’t understand, but he wasn’t going to ask SHIELD to fix it either. But after guiding Bucky to the right area of the library, he disappeared to go help MJ study for Chemistry.
Sighing, Bucky looked around. Noticing some signs that said ‘Need Help? Ask a Librarian’, he headed in the direction that the arrow was pointing. It was against all his training to ask for help, the Winter Soldier never had the autonomy to do so. But that reminder helped him push through his unease. And he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life perusing the shelves of this library either, no matter how much he loved to read.
“Excuse me? I could use some guidance in choosing a couple books to read on the Civil Rights Movement,” Bucky asked, gaining the attention of the young man who was working the desk.
“Sure, is there anything in particular that you were looking for?” the man replied with a soft smile.
“I was hoping to find a couple books that summarized key events? And maybe a couple that were written by people who actually participated? I find that can make quite a difference,” Bucky asked, encouraged by the nod of the library worker.
“I have just the thing for you,” the man said, reaching across the desk to grab a brightly coloured pamphlet. “Here, the top 10 books that we have here in the library that meet both of your key points, including first-hand accounts from people of colour..”
Bucky reached out for the pamphlet, nodding at the man’s emphasis on the term ‘people of colour’. Of course, he should have specified that in his initial request. “Do you mind showing me how to find these? It’s been a while since I’ve been in a library.” Bucky neglected to say it had been at least 75 years; no need to scare anyone.
“Sure,” the man said with a grin, sliding around the desk and leading the way back into the American History section. “So here you will see the Library of Congress classification….”
*****
A couple of hours later, Bucky felt like he had chosen a good handful of books to bring back to his apartment. He had also learned about the LC classification system, which seems rather complicated for organizing books (whatever happened to the Dewey Decimal system or just using the author’s last name). Still, He figured it would be helpful for his next library visit.
At one point, Bucky suspected that the librarian was flirting with him but then realized it could also be because he was passionate about the topic matter. It was still rather hard for Bucky to read the cues of being hit on, especially since being gay in the 20th century was something that was a lot more acceptable, at least in the United States.
Maybe that would be his next point of research. But first, dinner. And then, he would 'hit the books' as Peter said, which was an odd saying, but whatever. Hit the books, read the books, sleep on the books, whatever he needed to do to be a better friend to Sam.
Four weeks later….
Bucky stood back in his living room, taking a look at the research that he had done so far. He had originally started taking notes in a notebook, but soon realized that didn’t work the best for connecting the dots, or following up on certain questions or other areas that he wanted to research further on. So he had gone down to the local Target, ignored his slight hesitation at the choice in store name, and bought a large, free standing whiteboard to organize everything. He figured it might be useful for mission work as well, so he billed it to the US Government and had it delivered.
He also had the Spider Kid come over and help him get set up with a laptop, and not some Government issued one with all of the tracking software installed, like the piece of tech that was currently acting as a bookend. Peter helped him create an email account, along with an Instagram and Twitter, even though Bucky had no intention of using either of them. And later, it was actually MJ who reached out and gave him a crash course on what the social media platforms were used for, and some things not to do on them, which he greatly appreciated.
Bucky was still having issues using Google, it seemed like a wonderful resource and yet had so much crap on it, like these stupid articles complaining about having a black Captain America. Frankly, the internet made him angry, and he generally avoided it, preferring to make frequent trips back and forth to the local library.
And he had been correct in his initial assumption, the librarian had definitely been hitting on him. When Bucky returned back to his apartment with his most recent stack of books, a small slip of paper fell out, with a name and number. Bucky tucked it back in the book to use to mark his page, unsure if he would use it for any other purpose.
He was pulled away from his thoughts over whether or not he should actually call the good-looking librarian from a phone call from Sam, saying that he needed his help with something in Washington and he was off, not giving the number any further thought.