Work Text:
It’s Been A Long Day (going into shock/fetal position)
***
It’s over.
The battle is won, the Avengers emerging victorious.
But at what cost?
One might think that with so many people spread out across the battlefield, there would be chaos. Shouting, cheering, celebrating.
But it’s silent.
There’s a weight settled over the crowd like a spell, each person—and alien and raccoon and the like—all mourning their fallen leader—their hero. The one who sacrificed everything for the sake of the world.
Bucky Barnes hangs his head, breath escaping in heavy yet nearly silent gasps. He and Stark may not have seen eye to eye—not that he could ever blame the other man for his hatred—but it is clear who the real hero is today. It may have been a team effort, but in the end, it was Iron Man who made the sacrifice play.
It’s almost as if nobody wants to be the first person to move, to say anything, after Tony breathes his last. There are no words to say anyway. But the army of Avengers also can’t simply stand here all day—the war may be won, but their work is far from over. A quick glance across the space that’s become a battleground reveals carnage and destruction everywhere.
So once the initial shock of what happened fades and the dust begins to settle on the massive battlefield, things start moving quickly.
Steve, Rhodey, and a big green guy—who Bucky thinks is known as the Hulk?—scrounge up something appropriate to cover up Tony’s lifeless body, carefully and reverently removing the Iron Man gauntlet that now contains the Infinity Stones, snatched from Thanos in a miraculous twist that nobody saw coming. Some of the others are helping the wounded, gathering their bearings, picking their way through the debris. The volume amps up as various small groups begin to quietly move about and converse amongst themselves.
Bucky rubs a hand over his dirt-smeared face, glancing around to see where he might be needed. He wants nothing more than to run over to Steve—because apparently they’ve been gone for five years and that’s something his brain hasn’t even begun to process just yet—but he knows the timing isn’t right. Plus, his best friend is currently standing next to Pepper—who just lost her husband. The woman is handling the entire situation very well, all things considered, but she’s clearly shaking and has tears glistening on her cheeks. Bucky doesn’t feel like he has the right to be near any of the Stark family.
His gaze slips a little further to the right, behind the group that is hovering over Tony’s body, catching on a familiar red and blue suit. Bucky’s mind flashes back to one vivid moment that stands out in the blur of the long, brutal battle that just took place.
Amidst the chaos and fighting, the goal is clear: make sure the gauntlet doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.
Bucky is fighting double-time, enemies coming at him from nearly every side. But despite his preoccupied state, he still hears the young voice that calls out desperately for help, followed by Steve’s answering, “Heads up, Queens.”
Bucky fires off several more rounds, eliminating a small group of particularly grotesque-looking aliens that are charging straight at him. Above his head, he catches a glimpse of the spider guy—a familiar face from the Berlin airport fight—sailing through the air, gauntlet clutched tight in his hand. Determination as well as mildly-masked panic are clear in his body language, even through Bucky’s limited line of sight. He’s gotta admit, the kid’s got grit.
Now, the spider guy—what’s his official title, anyway?—is standing all alone, looking lost in the sea of people and creatures milling about the area. Bucky has never really gotten a clear look at his face until now, and it’s enough to break even his almost-stone cold heart.
The kid can’t be more than sixteen, seventeen years old. He’s got bruises on his face and dried blood under his nose. His hair is flopping over his forehead in a tousled mess.
But it’s his eyes that really grab Bucky’s attention. Because they hold the look that he's seen in the expression of one too many war-torn soldiers from back in the forties. The horror he’s been forced to see today is too much for a grown man, much less a teenager.
Bucky knows he can’t walk away. He maneuvers through the throngs of people to reach the kid. From this closer vantage point, he can make out the young man’s pale pallor and the sheen of sweat coating his face. His gaze is locked on the small circle of people near Tony, yet it’s almost as if he’s not really seeing them.
“Hey.” He comes to a stop a couple feet away.
The kid doesn’t acknowledge the greeting.
Bucky can see how hard he’s breathing; his chest is heaving. Shock, he thinks to himself. He tries again, raising his voice a bit this time. “Kid.” He gently taps the teen on the shoulder.
The kid’s wide eyes dart over to Bucky. “Uh, I, um—I—”
“What’s your name?” Bucky asks easily, casually searching for somewhere nearby with a little less activity, out of the middle of the current buzz.
“P—Peter. Peter Parker.” The kid finally shifts, curling his arms around his midsection and taking in a shuddery breath as his gaze slides over to stare straight ahead again.
“Bucky.” He catches sight of a small pile of rubble where relatively few people are milling about. “Why don’t we go sit over here?” He words it like a question, but he places his hand on Peter’s shoulder and begins urging him in the direction of the spot he’s mentally claimed. The kid is pliable in his grasp, stumbling along with Bucky even as he continues to look over his shoulder at the still, covered figure on the ground behind them.
When they reach their destination, Bucky lowers Peter down onto a chunk of…concrete facing away from the main hubbub of action and crouches next to him. There’s so much happening. Bucky can’t process his own feelings, but he can look out for this kid right now. He knows how to do that. Of course, his area of expertise generally tends more toward protecting others from physical enemies, but Bucky’s nothing if not resourceful. He knows he needs to pull the kid out of this emotional shock.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, knowing they all have bumps and bruises but wanting to make sure there’s nothing deeper going on that was missed.
Peter swallows, shaking his head. “I’m fine,” he whispers, looking far from it.
Bucky pressed his lips together. “Were you…dusted?” There’s no better way he can think of to word it; he barely knows the details—the sorcerer guy hadn’t given much in the way of an explanation when he’d portaled them to this battlefield—which, every time Bucky thinks he’s seen it all, something stranger happens. He can only assume Peter was also one of those lost in Thanos’s Snap, based on the fact that the kid hardly seems older than he was in Germany.
Peter gives a single, short nod. “I—um, yeah,” he chokes out. “They…they said it’s been five years.” There’s incredulation, disbelief in his voice.
Bucky can relate. His mind is spinning just even trying to come to terms with that knowledge—and that’s coming from a guy who’s spent the majority of his unnaturally-long life brainwashed and in cryo-freeze.
He nods. “Yeah. It’s a lot to take in.”
“I don’t…I can’t…” The kid’s mouth opens and closes, unable to find the words—Bucky gets it. Peter’s face crumples, and he lets out a soft sob, dropping his head into his hands.
Bucky doesn’t know the nature of the kid’s relationship with Stark, but based on the way Peter was right up there next to Pepper and Rhodey after Stark snapped, he has plenty of reason to believe that they were close. And that loss is on top of all of the other emotional turmoil and trauma they’ve all experienced.
Bucky doesn’t know how to deal with anything that’s going on. What’s next? How do they regroup, move on from this?
But Peter’s in front of him right now. The kid is curling in on himself, practically into fetal position, breath hitching between suppressed sobs. He needs something, and Bucky’s the only one around to help.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he tries, the words sounding fake and plastic even as they come off his tongue. Nothing’s okay right now, except maybe for the fact that they’re not having to deal with fighting off an alien army anymore.
“Mr. Stark, he…he’s…” Peter’s anguish is evident, and it cuts right through Bucky. “I don't, I don't—"
“Shh, kid,” Bucky murmurs, kneeling now as he claps his left hand to Peter’s shoulder and squeezes.
The teenager is shaking now, the adrenaline and shock probably beginning to wear off, leaving him to face the harsh reality of everything that just happened.
Bucky drops his other hand on top of the kid’s mess of curly hair, pulling him into a sort of embrace in an effort to provide some semblance of comfort after the day—or five years, who even knows at this point—they’ve had. He’s not well-versed in these types of interactions; he and Steve usually employed snarky comments and underlying concern rather than outright affection. But nothing is the same as it was, and the tragedy looming over them only reinforces that fact. Today is not the day for stupid jokes or pretending everything is fine.
Peter sinks into the hug for a moment before pulling back. He sniffles, wiping a hand across his face and shakily standing to his feet. “I—I should be helping, making sure they—”
“Whoa, hey.” Bucky catches Peter around the bicep with his metal hand as the kid stumbles. “Just—take a minute, okay? Everybody’s helping each other right now. You can take a minute.”
Peter glances around at the others as if seeing for the first time how they’re all huddled in their own various groups, talking, hugging, crying, and the like. He drops back down to a sitting position, looking positively exhausted. “Maybe just a minute,” he concedes with a sigh. “It’s…it’s been a long day.”
Bucky almost snorts a laugh at that. “Good man,” he says, offering a grim smile and squeezing the kid’s shoulder again. “We’re gonna make it through this.” He doesn’t know how, but he speaks the reassurance confidently anyway.
The hardest days may be yet to come, but somehow, they’ll figure it out.
The sun will shine on us again.