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The table was fastened to the cement floor with screws the size of his thumbs. It wasn't going to budge, no matter how hard he pulled. Peter tried to unscrew the leg he was cuffed to, but his fingers couldn't grip the bolt. Yeah, this isn't going anywhere.
He sighed and leaned his head back against the table leg with a thud. His mask numbed the impact only slightly, and he winced. That's what I get for being stupid. Stupid is as stupid does, as Mr. Stark would say. His eyes roved his surroundings for the hundredth time, even though there was nothing new to see this time either: stainless steel table bolted to the floor, sickly green walls peeling to reveal a Pepto-Bismol-pink layer of paint underneath. Dirty floor littered with mice droppings.
Delightful.
A normal, routine neighborhood watch; that's all it was supposed to be. He wasn't expecting the everyday thugs to have access to those weapons. And he definitely wasn't expecting the Winter Soldier to show up out of nowhere and fight the bad guys with him, side by side.
The thought of it made Peter's heart ache. Bucky had changed a lot from the wild-eyed, long-haired man he'd fought in the airport. Now, with his close-cropped hair and easy smile, he was almost an entirely different person.
Peter could relate. Just wait until literally everyone in the world forgets you; you'll definitely become a different person. Though, unlike Bucky, he wasn't sure that his own change was a good one.
"I got bitter…quit pulling my punches." Peter Three's words echoed in Peter's mind, and he clenched his jaw. He'd thought that he was over the feelings of loss and grief. But when bitterness reared its ugly head now and then, he still found himself a willing accomplice to its goals.
And now, thanks to that, he and Bucky were trapped. Real smart, Spider-Man. Peter grunted. When you ignore someone older and wiser than you and go off half-cocked, of course you're gonna pay for it.
Loud thuds shook the entire building, and Peter realized that Bucky must be trying to punch his way out. The man couldn't happy, and Peter wondered if he was more mad at their captors or at the kid in red-and-blue spandex that got them into this fix. Probably both.
He struggled against his cuffs—again—with no results. He felt…normal. Completely normal. And that concerned him. He shouldn't be normal ; he should have snapped these cuffs two hours ago. The vague memory of someone pricking him in the neck with a needle surfaced, and he groaned. Drugged? Really ?
But it also explained why Bucky was still hitting the wall with an obvious lack of success.
The door opened, and a masked figure entered the room. "On your Feet, Spider-Man."
Peter raised his eyebrows, though the man couldn't see it. "I'm literally tied to a table, man. How am I supposed to stand?" It was sass that even Mr. Stark would be proud of. The man, however, didn't look impressed. He grabbed Peter's shoulder and jerked until the boy's feet were halfway underneath him in an awkward squat, then reached behind and unclasped the handcuffs.
Caught off-balance, Peter tumbled to the floor. He wanted to jump the bad guy, knock him flat, and go find Bucky, but…he couldn't. The man was twice his size, and Peter knew he couldn't overtake him. So he scrambled to his feet and gave the man a scathing glare instead, frustrated that they'd even gone as far as to remove his web shooters.
Something hard was shoved into his back. "Out the door and to the right."
The hall was basically like the room he'd been in, with the same nausea-inducing walls and dank smell.
He was ushered into another room—sans the table—and shoved to his knees. Twenty seconds later, Bucky fell to the floor next to him. Peter gave him an awkward wave. "H-hi…"
Bucky turned to stare at him in bewilderment.
Okay, I guess that was a little too much . Peter cleared his throat. "Um, sorry, sir, to get you into—" something slammed into the back of his head, and stars exploded in his vision. His face smacked the floor, and he grunted.
"Shut up," their captor demanded. His voice faded, as if he'd turned to talk to someone else. "Hold them down."
Hold us down? Peter's eyes widened. "Um, wh-what are you—"
"I said, shut up. " A foot slammed into his ribs before a knee planted itself in his back. He winced, biting back a groan. Mr. Stark had tried his best to warn him about his motor mouth, but old habits were hard to break.
He hadn't thought of the possibility that the habit could break him.
Bucky's head met the concrete with a thud , and Peter winced. That had to hurt. The man's metal arm lay lifeless at his side, and Peter swallowed hard. Being normal wasn't as fun as he'd once expected. Bucky's eyes rose to meet his, and though he knew Bucky couldn't see, Peter mouthed the words anyway. "I'm sorry."
"The Winter Soldier and Spider-Man, in the same room and incapacitated. It's our lucky day, Carl."
The man above Peter—Carl?—grunted. "What are you planning to do to them?"
"There's only a handful of the Avengers left; once we get rid of these two, we've practically cleared them out completely." His chuckle sent a nervous tingle down Peter's spine. "So, like, I said, let's get rid of them."
The back of Peter's neck tingled, and he tensed. C'mon, muscles, don't fail me now.
Blurred movement out of the corner of his eyes preceded a grunt and smack of something hitting the floor. With a speed that would put Mario Andretti to shame, Bucky sprang to his feet and disappeared out of Peter's line of vision.
Dude, that was cool. Peter bucked against the knee in his back, flipped over, and drove a fist into his captor's face. Wow, that felt good.
Breathing heavily, Bucky walked back into the room and extended a hand to Peter. "Nice job, kid."
Peter accepted the hand and pulled himself to his feet, mouth agape. "Didn't they drug you, too? I-I mean, how did you do that so fast?"
"I mean, sure, they took some extra strength away, but I'm still a soldier." He shrugged as if the simple explanation explained everything.
"Not to be disrespectful, sir, but, uh…you couldn't have done it earlier?"
Annoyance flashed in Bucky's eyes. "I could have, but I had an off-the-wall kid to worry about."
Peter scoffed. "I had my own end under control."
"Sure. Because you definitely initiated our escape just now."
"I…was waiting for your signal. Old age making you the natural leader and…all that." Okay, that may have been a bit much.
A muscle jumped in Bucky's jaw, but his expression remained stoic. "Let's get these guys taken care of."
"Oh. Right." Peter jumped to action and turned to the man with the broken nose, blood dripping to the floor. "Uh…you have any rope?"
Once they had the criminals trussed up and locked in a room, they made their way outside. Peter squinted in the sudden sunlight. "I'm…um…" He licked his lips and tried again, turning to face Bucky sheepishly. "I'm sorry I got you into this mess, sir."
Bucky studied him for a good ten seconds, making Peter squirm under the intense stare, before his face broke into a small smile. He tilted his head, lips twitching. "You take care, Spider-Man. It was nice to actually fight beside you this time."
'We—we fought Thanos together, remember?" Why did he say that? Why couldn't he just leave it alone and let them both go their merry ways?
Bucky tilted his head. "That's right…I think I remember seeing you carrying the gauntlet once."
Peter nodded, rubbing his sweat-soaked gloves against his pants. "And—and I saw you at the funeral."
"Oh, you were there, too? I don't remember seeing you."
Peter shrugged. "I…didn't stay long." He hesitated, but a longing welled up inside, an ache so strong that he couldn't handle. He wanted—no, needed —someone to actually know him. In a motion borne of desperation and loneliness, he reached up and ripped off his mask, offering his hand to the man. "I'm…I'm Peter Parker." He realized that he'd never actually met the man before, so introducing himself didn't send a stab of pain to his heart like he'd expected. "It's nice to officially meet you, sir."
Bucky accepted his hand and gave him a small smile. "Bucky Barnes." He clapped Peter's shoulder. "Good to meet you too, Peter Parker. Maybe I'll see you again soon."
A weight that he hadn't known he was carrying lifted off Peter's back, and he felt lighter than he had in months.
It was a new beginning.