Work Text:
Scott lays on the concrete ground of some airport in Germany, exhausted and aching, his mask somewhere off to the side. He's fairly certain it's nothing too serious, but it sure doesn't feel like hugs and cotton candy. Not really anything new, besides the Germany part. He's never been to Germany before, so that was exciting. Kind of.
He sighs and lazily watches the clouds pass overhead, waiting to be dragged off and locked up. Away from Cassie.
Again.
And why exactly? This whole thing feels very surreal to him, being recruited and all that.
What was he supposed to do, say no to Captain America? One cannot simply say no to Captain freaking America.
“Hey.”
His internal monologue is interrupted by the guy in the red and blue spandex, the one that had been swinging around all spider-like. Not that he necessarily needs to elaborate, it would difficult to confuse this guy with anybody else.
When did he get here?
“You? Why- What are you-” Scott sputtered, squinting up at the masked man. His enemy, he supposes, but there was no animosity in his approach.
“Came across some of these,” the guy says, proudly displaying a Ziploc bag full of orange slices, “Thought you might like some.”
“Say no more,” he replies with a grin.
Spider-guy takes a seat next to him as Scott struggles into a sitting position. Red and Blue pops open the bag, takes a slice, and passes it to him.
“Thanks.”
“No problemo,” says the guy, rolling up his mask to his nose and biting into the vibrantly colored fruit.
He follows his example, then places the bag between them.
“So,” starts Scott, attempting small talk, “who did you say you were again? Spider-Guy? Spiderling?”
“Spider-Man,” He replies with an over-dramatic exasperated sigh. “You're just as bad a Mr. Stark! Is it really that hard to remember?”
“Well what do you expect? Who calls themselves 'Spider-Man' anyway?” Scott teases with a smile, taking another bite into his orange slice.
“Well at least it's not Ant-Man.”
Scott chokes.
“I'll have you know that I had no choice on that name!” He says with the point of his finger after he stops sputtering.
Spider-Man starts cackling, but then stops short when he starts gasping and wheezing for air, arms wrapped around his midsection.
“Woah woah woah, you okay there? Do you need help?” Scott's surprised with how concerned he is for the guy he'd been fighting with not too long ago.
“Nah, I'm fine,” comes the out of breath response from Spidey. “I think you busted a few of my ribs when we're fighting,” he chuckles.
Scott winces.
“Sorry about that.”
“It's alright,” he says with the wave of his hand. “It was actually really cool how you turned all huge and stuff.”
“Thanks, I think it's really cool that I didn't die while doing it.”
Spider-Man nods and laughs, and reaches for another succulent slice of orange.
“Not dying is pretty sweet,” He agrees.
And for a few minutes, the conversation falls into a comfortable silence. It's just the two of them eating orange slices on a cloudy day in a decimated airport in Germany.
Because apparently this is his life.
Spontaneous trips to Germany and assassins and guys dressed like cats and orange slices.
“So my bug-buddy, I've got to ask. How did you get mixed up in all,” Scott gestures vaguely to the demolished airport and broken airplanes, ”. . .this?”
“Well, I wasn't really planning on it,” Spidey explains after a moment.
“That makes two of us.”
“And well, Mr. Stark happened. I wouldn't call it blackmail-” Spider-Man frowns a bit, “but then again I can't really not call it blackmail . . .”
“He blackmailed you?”
“Blackmail's kind of a strong word,” Spidey shrugs. “But yeah, I guess he did.”
“And you're not upset about that?”
“Not really, I got a pretty killer suit out of it,” He says, looking down to admire the red and blue. “It also gave me a good reason to procrastinate my homework.”
“Homework? Just how old are you, kid?”
He knows this guy is young, but this is ridiculous.
Spidey waves off the question.
“Doesn't really matter. And what about you? How'd you end up here?”
“Good question,” Scott scrunches his eyebrows, and grabbed one more orange slice. “A few months back I accidentally stole something from them, and I guess they must've been impressed or something and thought I'd be useful here. It's also really hard to say no to Captain America.”
“How do you accidentally steal something?”
“Long story,” He laughs.
He hears the chopping of helicopter blades in the distance, and realizes that this conversation isn't going to last much longer. Spider-Man seems to notice too.
“Well, I guess I'll be heading off for prison soon.”
At that, the kid's face fell. The joking mood melted away.
“I'm sorry.”
“What? No, I refuse to let you apologize, this wasn't your fault,” Insists Scott with the shake of his head.
“But-”
“I think we both got caught up in something we don't understand. In fact, I still don't think I know what's going on,” He finishes with a wry smile.
Soldiers were coming their way.
“I didn't start doing all this to fight people like you,” Spidey protests. “You don't deserve this.”
“I knew the risks, don't worry too much about it.”
He looks down, and doesn't answer.
The soldiers arrive swiftly after that, and he's getting handcuffed and dragged away and man this sucks.
“And Spider-Man?”
Spidey looks up.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for the orange slices.”
Spider-Man offers one last grin before pulling down his mask.
“Of course.”