Archive of Our Own

"Sup?" The casual greeting combined with an even more casual half wave had Bucky jumping out of his skin, largely because he knew the team were all out, and he also knew for a fact he hadn't heard anyone in the tower. So coming face to face with some random upside down kid in a mask who was stood on the fucking roof, defying gravity, was enough to have Bucky ready to exorcise the demon. 

"Who the hell are you?" Bucky hissed, taking several steps back, largely just to put enough space in between them to actually see all of the kid. 

"Spiderman. Duh."

Bucky... couldn't argue that. As the kid had said, it was pretty damn obvious. If the standing upside down and defying gravity thing hadn't given it away, the Spiderman mask should have, but Bucky was still reeling from the knowledge that none of his super senses had picked up on the vigilante's presence. 

"And... why are you in here?"

Spiderman's head tilted seeming to be studying Bucky closely for a long moment before doing a flip to land on the ground and heading casually over to the kitchen as though he owned the place. 

"I live here, I have for like two years, better question would be why are you lot here? This is my house after all," Spiderman continued as he foraged through the freezer, collecting two frozen pizzas before hesitating a moment, "Want one?"

"It's... what?" Bucky asked, because there was no fucking way Spiderman had been living here for two years. The place had been in the process of being renovated when they moved in! Plus none of the team of skilled assassins, multiple of who had enhanced senses, who also happened to live here had noticed the man. No, this had to be some sort of bizarre joke he didn't understand. 

"Pizza?" Spiderman replied, squinting at him through the mask as though Bucky's question – clearly not about the food – was fucking stupid (and also about the food)

"No– No, I don't need any," Bucky brushed off, watching the kid shrug and shove the pizzas in the oven, "What do you mean you live here?"

"I mean that this is my place of residence? My home? My roof over my head? The place I sleep? I don't know what you want from me?"

"How did you get in?"

"They didn't remove me from the system, I just come in the front door – or the windows when I can't be bothered with all that. FRIDAY knows me well enough to not worry about me coming through windows."

"But everyone was removed from the system when Valentina bought the place?"

"Civilian one still works, guess they just forgot me," Spiderman chuckled, before practically bending over in uncontrolled, near hysteric, laughter for several confusing seconds only to stand back up and dead face add "Really not funny when I think about that actually."

Well if that wasn’t disturbing, Bucky didn't know what was. Still, the way the kid manoeuvred around the kitchen gave some credibility to his statement. He didn't seem to hesitate for even a moment before he opened whichever cupboard he wanted, never once opening the wrong one despite the insanity that was the system Tony had left it with and no one had dared touch. Even after several months of living here Bucky hadn't quite gotten the handle on it and he had been here plenty before the tower was abandoned by the mess that were the Avengers after Tony's death and Steve's... leaving. The pure ease this kid had navigating it as he gathered ingredients for something, despite the pizzas in the oven was... impressive. 

"If you live here, how come we haven't seen you until now?"

"I don't really do people these days. Easier to just sit on the walls and observe."

"We are all chronically aware of our surroundings, there's no way you could have ever been in a room with us," Bucky argued. He knew the way he constantly was listening for any sounds that didn't belong to the team, knew how Yelena always surveyed a room as she entered it, knew how Ava would walk into rooms silently through walls just to check what people were planning when they didn't know she was around – knew how every single team member bar Alexei (and sometimes John fucking Walker) always noticed her immediately despite the perfected silence. It was impossible. Maybe Spiderman had been away and had only just got back? That loosely made sense in an odd, nonsensical kind of way. 

"Bucky," Spiderman stated, the name holding a disturbing level of soft judgement. For a few seconds, he thought that was it, thought the kid was just saying his name weirdly as though that would somehow scare Bucky off. Then he realised. Not a single sound was coming from the kid. Not a heartbeat that Bucky could hear, not a single breath of air, not the footsteps that should have echoed on the tiles given his somewhat clunky shoes. It was pure silence, but Spiderman hadn't stopped at all, still collecting ingredients and starting to add them together, silently. 

"Plus, people never think to look up," Spiderman added, startling Bucky out of the realisation of just how quiet the vigilante could get. 

"What the fuck?"

"Magic," Spiderman snorted, "Not actually of course, but I'm pretty damn good at becoming invisible so..."

Bucky despised the way the man – kid, really, if his voice was at all telling – seemed to be hit with a wave of sadness at that last comment. Being forgotten, invisible... both things that had clearly hurt him based on this conversation. People, heroes and company too given the actual topic. 

"So you don't... like people? You gotta know you would fit right in with the rest of us on that one," Bucky pointed out, taking a seat on one of the stools by the kitchen counter. It was clear Spiderman wasn’t going to attack him, and at any rate it wouldn't make much of a difference to be seated or standing. May as well attempt to appear casual. No need for the spider to realise just how uncertain he was about this. 

"No. I like people," Spiderman replied as though it were the most obvious thing, as though the idea that he didn't like people was completely insane, despite having just said he didn't do people, despite claiming to have lived in the same building as them for this long without anyone knowing. Bucky raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation that would actually make sense. Surprisingly, the kid provided, "I like people, I mean you met me at the airport fight, right? And af– Nevermind. Still, you saw how I couldn’t shut up, you really think I don't like people? No, I LIKE people, I just know better than to get attached, and I get attatched easily."

Well that, that Bucky could understand. Whether it was for the same reason as Spiderman, he had no clue, but it has been drilled into him for far too many decades. Don't get attached. Attachments were weaknesses. Even after Steve had brought him out of Hydra, the punk was the only one he allowed himself to be attached to for a long time. He was better now, much better. He had seen plenty of proof that having a team at your back only made you stronger. Was it something he would need to prove to Spiderman? He'd managed to convince the team, but that hadn't been easy, and Spiderman seemed even more reluctant than any of them. 

"So what, your plan was to just continue living here and never let anyone know you were here so you wouldn't get attached?"

"Yup," Spiderman agreed, "Was going so well too."

That... was a good point. Why not today? What had happened? What had changed?

"Why?"

"Why what?" Spiderman questioned, head tilting as he eyed Bucky, not looking at whatever it was he was stirring but also somehow not spilling so much as a drop. 

"Why did you let me see you today?"

"I'm hungry as fuck, I haven't slept in 53 hours, I have four gunshot wounds and honestly I'm just too fucking done to actually try."

"Sorry, you WHAT?"

"I'm hungry– Oh, hey, pizza's ready! You sure you don't want some?" Spiderman asked, using his webs to pull the trays out of the oven and onto the bench without having to put on oven mitts. 

"No, I– I'm good– how many bullet holes did you say?"

"Is it a hole if it's not the whole way through?"

"YES?"

"Oh, four then," Spiderman replied, grabbing a slice of pizza that must have been burning hot, pulling his mask up to sit just above his nose and eating the pizza. "Fuck, that was hot, oh well."

"Did you just... burn your mouth– wait no, important things first, how many bullet holes would you have said if it weren't the whole way through?"

"Three, got an annoying one in my side, don't think I'll stress about taking the bullet out though, skin's already healed. Still fucking hurts though you know?"

"What the fuck, kid?"

"What? You can't tell me you haven't done that? It's such a pain to get it out once it's been healed over."

"Sure, but I was being brainwashed. What's your excuse?"

"Uh, I'm lazy and Tony was the one keeping me in check but he's dead and literally everyone forgot me so it's not like I have an ID to go to the hospital and I don't got a doctor so do ya really expect me to worry about it? I'm chill, only complaining 'cause I'm pissed I haven't slept."

"Because of the pain?"

"Fuck no, that's like so chill. It's more because I can't close my eyes without seeing them at this time of year so... yeah, I'm good actually."

Oh. Oh, that Bucky could understand. He didn't know who the kid was mourning, it was months after Stark's death anniversary, but he didn't need to know who it was to understand. If anyone could get it, it would be Bucky. 

"Do you want to talk about them?" Bucky asked gently. It wasn’t what he had wanted at the time, but he knew it was for plenty of people, and Spiderman had sought him out... to some extent at least. He wasn’t hiding. Maybe he wanted to talk. 

"Hah, wouldn't that make everything so easy? Nope, can't. It's not even them that died really... well, my aunt did, but the others? No... no, it really isn't that simple is it."

"Do you feel... guilty?" Bucky prodded, praying this wasn’t pushing too far. He really wasn’t good at this, but the kid seemed to be dealing with something a little too similar to his own past. Bucky couldn’t just not try. 

"Well, obviously, but I'm not you Bucky. I can't explain this but it's... different." 

Bucky nodded, accepting that. He knew it was different, no one went through what Bucky had. It was distinctly unique. Still, you couldn’t deny there were some similarities, and fuck if Bucky didn't want to avoid the kid falling down the same path he had taken. 

"Okay. Just, you don't have to hide from us you know? No one's gonna kick you out if that's what you're worried about."

"Hah, they're welcome to try. Tony's labs aren't locked off for me. Good luck ever getting me out."

"Wait. You have access to the labs?" 

That was insane. That was insane because no one hacked Tony's shit, but Bucky knew the man was the only one who ever had access to those labs. In the renovation that had ended up just ignoring that whole floor because there was no way in, even the attempt at demolishing it hadn't worked out. FRIDAY was simply too secure and had too much control over the tower. No one knew what was in there and no one ever would, except, apparently, this kid. How?

"Yeah, worked with him on a lot of stuff. You know, I actually designed part of Tony's final suit – well the one before the blip. He made another several designs after that, all technically incorporated my ideas though, so I guess I helped on the real final one too," Spiderman grinned, half sprinting through the rambled words before eating the last slice of the first pizza and moving onto the second one.

"But I never saw you in the tower?"

"Sure," Spiderman replied with a noncommittal shrug, "Are you certain you don't want any of this? Your metabolism is like as high as mine and you haven't been in here yet today, you have got to be starving – unless you went out for food, but all the places near here have really shitty pancakes excluding that fancy place that does them weird and I know you don't like those, so I doubt you've eaten. I know it's just frozen pizza but the rolls I'm making won't be ready for hours."

Bucky stared at the kid for a long time, trying desperately to understand how the hell the kid knew all that. He was pretty sure he had never mentioned liking pancakes anywhere that could have been published, and the idea that this kid would not only know that fact but also know that Bucky hated all the nearby places? They weren't even all particularly bad pancakes, Bucky just had odd specifications for how he liked his pancakes. 

"Bucky? You there man?" Spiderman asked, waving his hand in front of Bucky's face. It took a LOT of self control to not grab it out of the air and throw the boy to the ground. 

"How the hell do you know all that about me?"

Spiderman froze, wide eyes clear thanks to the animated mask as the boy stared at him for far too long before shaking his head frantically "No, no, don't... don't worry about it. It's nothing!"

"Kid, what's–"

"Bucky, I'm so serious here, it is nothing," Spiderman gritted out, all the cheer that had been in his voice mere moments ago vanishing to make way for the clear warning. This was a line and Spiderman clearly had no intention of letting Bucky cross it. Okay. Okay, he could back off. He didn't understand, but the anxious anger was something Bucky knew a little too personally. He trusted Spiderman would tell him if he was in danger, and really he didn’t care if the vigilante knew a little too much about his pancake based food preferences. 

"Okay, I'll have a slice of pizza," Bucky agreed, if only to prove to the kid he was happy for the conversation to move on. Spiderman eyed him for a long while before cutting him a piece and shoving it over. 

"Don't... don't try to find me. Just because you know I'm here. Don't... don't come looking for me. If you can't see me, I don't want to be found. Just leave me be okay? I'll come out if I feel like it, but please don't hunt me down," The kid requested, his voice quiet, eyes fixed on the pizza – or at least Bucky was pretty sure that was where he was looking behind the mask

Bucky nodded, eyeing the boy for a long time. He understood it, understood wanting to be alone, to not have someone constantly chasing you down. Even if it was done under the best intentions, it hadn't exactly been fun not knowing if he could trust Steve and having the man practically hunt him down. This was – apparently – the kid's home. He didn't deserve to feel hunted in his own home, even if Bucky just wanted to help. 

"Okay, but only if you acknowledge that you are welcome to join us at any time. You don't have to hide from us."

"I know," Spiderman replied, finishing off the last of his pizza and moving back to working on the dough he had been making, "Don't expect me to start showing up now though. This was a once off."

"Would you please let me patch up the bullet holes and get the bullet that's still in out of you?" Bucky asked, because as much as the kid seemed inexplicably able to completely ignore it, Bucky wasn’t quite so lucky. 

"They've all mostly closed up, and I stitched them together and bandaged them, so they're fine. If you're really keen on taking the bullet out you'd have to cut me open, but I'd accept the souvenir, so it's up to you. Tony always got weird about me having bullets inside me, though it happened less back then. I think the problem was the metal detector though, couldn’t get in without setting that off when I had bullets in me. You being here all the time with your metal arm has made it so much easier."

"Okay, that's... a lot to process. Bullet holes mostly healed, that's good, I'd still like to check over them. I've got some materials for cutting bullets out – which sounds fucking insane to say but that's our life, hey? C'mon, let's go down to the medbay, you can finish baking later, tell me about how often you get shot."

"Oh, I dodge most of them," Spiderman grinned, happily following after Bucky, not seeming too invested in whatever it was he was making – Bucky was pretty sure the kid had mentioned it but honestly he didn't blame himself for not remembering that given the insanity that was this conversation. 

"Most, but not all?" Bucky asked, an attempt at subtly nudging the boy in the loose direction of actually answering the question. 

"Well, no, but hey I don't usually have this many bullet holes, usually it's only one or maybe two healing at a time."

"And how much time do you spend without bullet holes in you?"

"Probably a good 50% of the time? Yeah, 50% sounds about right," The kid grinned, pulling his mask down to cover his face completely once more as they stepped into the elevator. 

"That's not a great rate."

"I think it's decent considering how much I get shot at! Plus it's harder to dodge bullets when you still have the holes from the last time someone shot at you!" Spiderman complained, and had Bucky been walking rather than stood still in an elevator, he would have needed to stop in his tracks just to process that. As it was, he settled for staring at the boy incredulously. 

"Please do not tell me you patrol while recovering from gunshot wounds," Bucky begged as the elevator came to a stop, restarting his functioning. 

"I... won't tell you that then," Spiderman agreed in a tone that told Bucky everything he needed to know. Fucking hell it was like dealing with pre-serum Steve all over again, reckless and chaotic, only at least Spiderman had an advanced healing factor, which he of course proceeded to make far too much use of. Settling for an eye-roll, Bucky led the way as they exited the elevator and headed towards medbay. One of these days, watching a teenager be too heroic for their own good would make his heart give out. Seriously, he was getting too old for this. How Clint had managed with his kid, Bucky would never know, but he prayed the two would never meet. He had only met the spider once and he just knew having the two as friends would be too chaotic for his old heart. 

"Sit," Bucky grunted, nudging the kid towards one of the beds and collecting the equipment they would need. 

As it turned out, Spiderman hadn't been kidding about the fact that his body had healed over the bullets, but even with accelerated healing, they were danger magnets for infections, so Bucky grit his teeth and cut into the kid's skin. He had done this on himself enough times that it was a fairly efficient process, but he did find himself apologising to the kid who didn't complain once. That alone was honestly terrifying. No one's pain tolerance should be this high. 

"How many painkillers did you take?" Bucky asked when they were finally done. He could hope it was too many and the lack of response to the pain was that, but given how nonchalant the kid seemed about all this, Bucky wasn’t sure how likely that would be. 

"None, there's no point, fast metabolism and all that jazz," Spiderman grunted, stretching slightly as though testing the stitches would hold before hopping back up like it was nothing, like he hadn't just had bullets surgically removed without any painkillers. This was fucked. All of this was fucked. 

"And you're... okay?"

"Yup, anyways, remember how I said I'm good at being invisible? I'm gonna go back to doing that, and you're not gonna come looking? Deal?"

"You should join us for movie night some time," Bucky tried, sensing this would be the last he'd hear from the kid for a long while. 

"Do we have a deal Bucky? Swear you won't come searching for me."

"I'll let you come to us."

This felt like tempting a stray cat, but Bucky wasn’t willing to risk the kid's trust. He could clearly look after himself – to some extent at least – and knowing the kid was living here and not out on the streets would hopefully be enough to keep his mind calm. Until Spiderman trusted him, Bucky would just have to prove that the kid could. 

"See you around Bucky. Say hi to Yelena for me – or... Never mind, she probably doesn't remember me, don't worry about it," Spiderman sighed before slipping out of the room and presumably vanishing for some indefinite amount of time. That... that had been... odd. Yeah, odd was probably the best way to describe it. 

—

The moment Peter was back inside the safety of Tony's lab, he let himself sink to his knees, hands shaking far too much as he grasped for the ironman helmet that stayed by the door, pulling it into his chest as he rocked slightly, finding some minuscule comfort in the familiar motion combined with the weight of the mask he knew so well. 

That had hurt. 

He had known it would hurt but... but it had hurt so fucking much. He missed them. He missed them all, and Bucky was right here. Bucky who enjoyed the old classics that none of the rest of the Avengers seemed to. Bucky who begrudgingly allowed Peter to braid his hair and ramble about whatever idea he had at the time, despite being brutally honest about the fact that he had no clue what Peter was talking about. Bucky who would always fucking listen, even if half the words made no sense to him. Bucky who would spar with him for hours on end after days of pent up energy at school. Bucky who always found an excuse to make pancakes even if everyone else was getting sick of them. 

Bucky who didn't remember Peter. Didn't remember any of that. Didn't even remember the countless apologies Peter had spewed after Germany. He probably didn't even remember yelling at Mr. Stark for not telling Peter what that fight was all about. 

Peter hadn't been honest when Bucky asked why he had shown himself today. Sure, it was true he hadn't slept in over two days and yeah he was hungry, he always was thanks to his stupid fast metabolism, he wouldn't even deny the fact that the bullet wounds had him grumpier than usual. None of that was why though. Not really. He could have eaten without Bucky ever knowing he was there. He could have entertained himself in the lab or tried to stave off the nightmares that kept him awake. He could have done a lot of things if those were the real reason. 

There wasn’t all that much that could fix loneliness. 

Being surrounded by Mr. Stark's tech had helped a lot, for a long time. Finding the video messages Mr. Stark left for him during the blip, saved from Dr. Strange's spell by Mr. Stark's inability to use Peter's actual name, had helped a lot. Just being able to play them, to hear someone who remembered him speak to him. It had been good, but they always ended, and the second listen just felt too much like a recording. He still played them all the time, but Mr. Stark wasn't really talking to him anymore, and Peter just didn't know what to do. 

Then it had only been him and Bucky in the tower and he'd just thought... what if? What if he just talked to the man? Anything to feel a little less alone. 

How fucking temporary that had been. 

He should have known the gaping hole it would have reopened – and he wasn’t talking about the bullet holes. Here, curled up on the ground, face soaked with tears, Peter knew it had been a mistake. It had been good. Too good. Bucky had been there, as sarcastic yet soft as Peter remembered him, and it had been so easy, but it wasn’t something Peter could have. He'd already stolen the lives of too many that he got close to, and destroyed the memories of the entire world, he couldn’t do any more damage to Bucky. Hell, Bucky's memory had already been messed with by Hydra. What Peter had done to him was unforgivable, but Bucky would never know that. Worse, he feared Bucky would forgive him if he knew. Or maybe he wouldn't. Peter had no clue, and honestly he didn't know which would be worse. 

He never should have let himself be noticed. Never should have talked to Bucky, never should have done any of that, said any of that. He had probably let far too many things slip, and Bucky was smart. Peter could only pray that the hero wouldn't work it all out. 

Fuck, he was so alone. 

It had been three years. Three years and he had no one to talk to, no one to trust, no one to turn to. Three years ago, he could have talked to May, or Ned, or MJ, hell, three years ago he could have talked to Bucky about how fucked life was and how much he hated being alone. Now though? Now he was alone and everyone who ever loved him was either dead or didn't remember him. At some point you had to accept his life wasn’t just ruled by Parker Luck. Either he was cursed, or there was something wrong with him that got everyone around him hurt. Regardless of which it was, Peter couldn’t let himself get attached. He couldn't risk these guys like that. They were all ex-assassins – other than Bob who had his own problems. They didn't need his shit and all the danger that came with being attached to him on top of everything else. 

Peter would not get attached. He refused. 

He didn't get up from where he'd been curled on the ground until his muscles were so stiff it ached to move, but that wasn’t because he was attached. He was just that tired. Not that he was fooling anyone. 

---

"MiniBoss, you asked me to alert you upon the Thunderbolts' return to the tower?" FRIDAY's voice cut through the sounds of tinkering that had been Peter's sorry attempt to distract himself in order to avoid another breakdown. His heart twisted at the nickname, one Mr. Stark himself had coded into Friday and Peter hadn't been able to bring himself to change for the same reason it hurt. Mr. Stark was gone and would never have another chance to change Friday's nickname for him. 

"Thank you FRIDAY, can you pull up the security feeds of wherever they are, with volume on, please?"

"On it, MiniBoss."

Peter pushed away from the table, leaving the iron man gauntlet he'd been working on and letting the rolly chair carry him away from it as he leaned back, waiting for the holographic screens to show up. Sure enough, mere moments later, Peter was watching footage of a quiet group of ex-assassins glowering at each other as they rode the elevator up, while Bob looked awkwardly torn between staying out of anyone's way and brightening the mood. 

"You're back," Bucky grunted the moment the elevator doors opened and Friday brought up another camera feed to better show the man, leaning over the counter and glaring daggers at some dough as though the stuff offended him personally. Oh. Peter never had finished those buns. 

"No thanks to Walker's sorry ass," Yelena grumbled, dropping full length onto the couch in a way that would ensure no one else could fit, not that the effort stopped Ghost from phasing under her and shoving Yelena's feet to be on her lap rather than underneath her. Walker just growled and sat at the table, clearly keeping his distance. 

"It wasn’t that bad," Bob attempted, only to be glared at by all of them except Bucky, who was still glaring at the dough, and Alexei, who seemed to be fighting with his helmet. 

"Did you get the groceries?" Bucky asked, shoving himself back up to full height and abandoning the dough. Peter wasn’t sure if the man thought he'd come back for it, someone else would finish it or someone else would clean it up, but he was too tired to question it. Not when it really didn't matter. 

"I got some Thunderbolts Wheaties!" Alexei grinned, causing loud groans from the rest of the team, Bucky and Bob once again excluded. 

"Never let us do anything," Yelena bemoaned dramatically, "Clearly we're incapable of even the most basic tasks. I mean c'mon guys, I wanted mac n cheese!"

Peter couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. Yelena's antics never failed to entertain, and when you combined her with Shuri and Peter himself, well that chaos was destined for a good time. Of course... that couldn’t happen any more. Peter wondered if Shuri and Yelena kept in touch. He had brought them together as friends, how did they think they had met? Did they think all the chaos caused by the three of them was just the two? That... hurt. Probably because it was true. That was exactly what the spell would do, and that hurt like hell. 

"We can worry about groceries another time, I've got something more important for us to discuss, come on, gather round, Yelena sit up so there's room on the couch, we gotta talk."

"Oh, shi~it, someone's been naugh~ty," Yelena teased, gaze flicking around the group, obviously checking to see if anyone knew what was happening as she sat up shoulder to shoulder with Ghost, allowing space for Bob to sit next to her. 

"What shit has Val said now?" Walker groaned, stalking over from where he had been separating himself from the others and dropping onto the other large couch, quickly joined by Alexei, who seemed oblivious to the sudden mood change. 

"Is it a mission?" Ava asked, head tilted slightly in clear trepidation. She clearly didn't like this. Peter couldn’t blame her, not when he was even more tense, and he knew what this conversation would entail. 

"No," Bucky replied, taking his own place in a single seat couch, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight enough to be worrying on anyone else given one was vibration. 

"Then what's got you all dramatic like there's some second stick up your ass?" Walker grouched. 

"How many people live in this tower?" Bucky asked, completely ignoring Walker's grumblings. 

"6? Bucky, are you feeling alright?" Bob, somehow the most well adjusted, asked. The other four just hurled insults at him along with the exact same number. 

"Wrong," Bucky grunted and all at once the group stilled. Bucky himself just leaned back, breathed and added with a heavy sigh, "There's seven, and no one knew of the seventh. Spiderman."

They all spoke at once, which made it especially difficult for Peter to process and respond to them mentally, but he was known to be fast. 

"But he works in Queens?"

It's a fifteen minute trip by webs, if that. Though Bob has to drive with traffic, so Peter could understand the confusion

"How the hell would we not have noticed him?"

Easy. Seriously Walker, you are so unobservant it's painful. 

"Isn't he a kid?"

Okay, that was a little unnecessary, Ghost. 

"No way Spiderman stays quiet enough for 5 assassins – sorry, ex-assassins to not notice him."

Wow, glowing review from Yelena, just because he liked to talk didn't mean he couldn’t be quiet, although she knew that, so Peter was pretty sure she was teasing. 

"Spiderman!? I love Spiderman! He's got way more branded cereal than we do!! We should add him to the team!"

Aww, thanks Alexei. Not happening, but thanks!

"I talked to him today," Bucky continued once they had all finished their outbursts, "He's been here longer than us. He's got access to Stark's labs, I'm guessing he's set up his living space in there, but he can move silently enough that my senses don't notice him, which is pretty damn impressive."

"Spiderman's stronger than you too. Quieter and stronger, maybe we should replace you," Yelena teased, "No, wait, he's funny too, kick Walker out, we don't need to laugh at him with Spiderman around."

"Shut up, Yelena," Walker snapped, but Yelena just lolled her head to the side and shrugged. 

"I dunno what you want me to say, Walker. You're kinda an asshole."

"Spiderman isn't taking anyone's place. He's not joining the team. I asked, he doesn't want to. In fact, he doesn't want you lot looking for him, so don't you fucking dare. I just know you lot are paranoid as fuck and if you do ever notice him I don't want a knife through his stomach. I've already had to patch up enough of his wounds. You lot better not add to that count. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're the boss," Yelena grumbled. 

"No, he's not!"

"Walker, you're the most likely to kill Spiderman intentionally, the rest of us actively like him and what he stands for. Don't push your luck."

"I like Spiderman! I like the guy more than I like you lot, but I don't care if Bucky approves someone or not, I don't need the asshole's permission to kill whoever I see fit. Just because I'm not killing Spiderman doesn't mean shit."

"Alright, alright, chill, take a walk, cool down," Yelena buffered, calming down both Walker and a now defensive looking Ghost. Huh. Why did Ghost like Spiderman so much? Peter didn't remember ever actually interacting with her. 

"Is he hiding?" Bob's voice, shaky and quiet as it was, was enough to bring the attention back to a now quiet Bucky, who waited for a long moment before responding. 

"It's complicated. For now, don't seek him out. He may or may not come to you speaking company, but that's up to him."

"So Spidey's been here without our knowing for how long? Gotta respect the hustle."

Peter smiled weakly at the screen. Fuck, he missed Yelena. Hearing her speak about him, even if it was only through the cover of Spiderman? It felt good. Not... not good enough to patch the old wounds in his heart, but good enough to earn a soft smile, and honestly, Peter would take that. 

"Wait, Bucky, you said he had access to Stark's labs? What's the bet he also has access to the cameras?" Ghost asked making eyecontact with a camera and indirectly, with Peter himself. It was unnerving enough to make him want to pull the mask back on, but he was safe in the lab, and he knew if he put that mask on in here he would never take it off again. Here was his safety net. Here he was Peter Parker, Miniboss. Not Spiderman. Just Peter. 

"It's possible."

"He's smart enough to," Yelena added when Bucky's noncommittal answer didn't help, "And I’ll bet our friendly neighbourhood spider is a nosey little neighbour so..."

"If I were him, I'd be watching this conversation so... Spiderman, if you're listening in, hi, if these idiots make you uncomfortable let me know, I'll knock some sense into them," Ava grinned, and finally she looked away from the camera as she relaxed back into a slouch on the couch and glared around at the group who were now all practically gaping at her, "What? I respect Spiderman a hell of a lot more than you dumbasses."

Yelena grunted in what sounded like agreement, confirmed by the fist she held up and bumped with Ghost's. Bucky just nodded, accepting it easily enough. Bob seemed confused and uncertain, but not particularly negative, so Peter would take that. Walker's grumpiness seemed to relate more to his usual negative demeanour and whatever fight he'd had with the others before they got back. Alexei was still babbling something incoherent about Spiderman, but it all sounded positive enough, so Peter didn't worry too much about it. 

That had gone... surprisingly well really. He'd expected at least one person to scream about hunting him down or kicking him out or something, which would have been hell considering it was his only home. This was easier. A LOT easier. He just couldn’t get attached. He could handle that. How hard could it be?

Apparently, very hard indeed. 

It wasn’t that he started showing up more, he continued his quiet watching, sometimes silently in the room and other times simply through cameras, but the team all seemed to make room for him, constantly leaving a seat free as though he might just wander over and take it. When they spoke, they carried an air about them that suggested they were trying to include him, anything from pausing to give him a chance to speak, talking as though there were more than two people in the room when there wasn’t (to their knowledge), and sometimes even directly asking him. When he didn't answer, no one complained, they just accepted it without question and continued. 

Then there were the times that made staying quiet its own herculean task. Every now and then he would find one of them alone, he was either in the room or on the cameras, that didn't matter, but what mattered was that they were talking, not to themselves, not on the phone, no, they were talking to him. They had no clue if he was even there – in fact multiple times he'd entered in what appeared to be the middle of a conversation with him. Yet they still talked, with no idea if he was even there, they had conversations with him. They cared for him. They spoke about their life and asked about his, pausing to give him time to respond before carrying on as though there was nothing wrong with the complete lack of an answer. 

It was hard to describe what was happening. He knew it was kind. Too kind. He couldn’t afford this kindness. He couldn’t afford to respond, to give into their apparent genuine desire to spend time with him. He knew what would happen if he did, knew what always happened. He would get to close and they would get hurt, or die, or forget him, or something. Whatever happened, it would be something that left Peter grieving. He couldn’t do that to himself. Not again. 

So, he stayed silent, an invisible observer. 

And then Yelena broke. 

It was Nat's birthday, and only two people other than Yelena seemed to know that. Alexei, who had vanished off somewhere to get drunk, and Peter, who was silently mourning the woman who taught him half of what he knew. The only comfort Peter had was the ability to be grateful Nat never had to forget him. Small mercies. 

Still, Peter couldn’t help but watch as Yelena screamed in anger and frustration through her tears as she punched and kicked at a wall, alone in her sorrow because the rest of the team were on a mission. He couldn’t do anything except watch Yelena's shaking, sobbing form as she crumpled against the wall, still slamming her fist into it and sobbing out her sister's name. 

It didn't take long for Peter's tears to follow, because Nat SHOULD be here, she should be running this team and training them all, she should be mothering the lot of them and not taking Walker's bullshit. She should be here, but she wasn’t, and that wasn’t fucking fair. 

Peter left the lab, slipping through hallways with ease until he reached the one Yelena sat, leaning heavily against the wall and staring up at the roof, her energy drained from the attacks on the wall and the sobs. Now she was just quiet, tears still streaming down her face, her arms hanging defeatedly by her side, both hands bleeding slightly from the knuckles, although not enough to be too worried about. 

"Hi," Peter murmured as he slid down the wall to sit next to Yelena, alerting her to his presence. He wasn’t sure if the lack of a reaction was a good or bad sign, or maybe something else entirely. On one hand, it could mean she was so emotionally numb she hadn't even registered his presence, on the other, maybe his attempts to be somewhat less silent on his way over may have caught her attention, meaning she was at the very least aware of him. Or, perhaps she just expected his presence given how often she talked to him when he wasn’t actually around. 

Yelena didn't respond, just curled up tighter, her whole body continuing to shake. Peter didn't comment, didn't judge, didn't even think twice about it, he just sat there, pulling his mask down slightly lower, grateful that it hid his own tears. Eventually, he spoke. 

"Did you and Nat ever do anything for her birthday? Peter asked, his voice soft, curious, and kind. He didn't know much about a painful amount of things, but he knew grief, he knew mourning, and he knew that every year on the birthdays of people he had loved and lost, he made a cake, sung to them, and ate a slice. Maybe it was a stupid ritual – he certainly didn't have the money to spend on cake most of the time and he definitely couldn’t eat it all on his own – he usually ended up offering slices around to homeless people and others he met on the streets as Spiderman the following night but that was unimportant. What mattered was continuing the tradition that made him smile at least a little on days he hated everything in his life. 

"We used to spar together, but whoever's birthday it was, they got to win, and the other would dramatically lose," Yelena smiled softly, her eyes distant as they stared emptily up at the sky, seeming lost in memories, but at least they appeared to be good ones, "She always could have beaten me on my birthday, she was better than I was, if only by a little bit, there was always that edge, but she let me win anyways. And she'd be dramatic about it too, we started it when we were kids, before the red room even, just... play fighting, and she faked a dramatic death after I won the sword fight. Then we learnt how to properly fight, but our birthdays were the only times those spars felt like play-fighting again..."

Peter hummed, listening carefully as Yelena recalled the memory with fond sadness. He got it. More than he should have to, he understood. 

"I didn't know her as long as you, but while I did, she let me ramble as long as I liked on my birthday – well she would let me ramble most days, but she seemed extra invested on my birthday, and I know she didn't care that much about the Lego Star Wars set I had been talking about, but she listened anyway. I wanted to do the same for her, so on her birthday I followed her around like a lost puppy, listening to absolutely anything she had to say."

Yelena smiled softly, nodding her head. 

"I remember her mentioning something about a baby spider on her last birthday, I... can't remember what though... but... but I guess that must have been you?" Yelena asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she continued to attempt to figure out what Nat had said. Peter doubted she ever would, given he was pretty sure some of it related to his identity, or at least enough of it to catch the attention of Strange's spell. Still, it was nice to hear Nat talked about him. 

They sat in silence for a long time before Yelena finally brought her head up from where it had been resting on her knees. She looked over at him, seeming to think for a long second before she spoke. 

"Do you think maybe we could spar? I don't want to win, I just... I just wanna be able to pretend I'm sparring with her."

Peter smiled, nodding easily, and standing up slowly, offering a hand to Yelena. She hesitated for a long moment, before holding it and pulling herself up. Peter offered her another little smile, and she just nodded shortly and started walking towards the gym. 

It wasn’t so much sparring as it was almost pretending to fight, ducking and dodging, no hits actually hitting with enough force to hurt, until Yelena allowed herself to be pinned, and finally, the smile on her face seemed real enough. 

"Alright Spiderboy," Yelena grunted as she stood back up, "This time for real?"

Peter grinned and nodded, and just like that, they were sparring, putting their all into it. It was close between the two, Peter had the strength, but he was used to fighting enemies far slower than him, Yelena however, was equal on speed, and even without super strength, she knew how to use his strength against him. Each spar was impossibly close, lasting far longer than any normal spar should, and requiring all of their focus. By the end, they were sweaty, exhausted, panting, and tied perfectly. 

"You ever considered doing this more often?" Yelena asked as they lay sprawled on the floor of the gym, still trying to catch their breath. 

Peter just hummed, acknowledging the words but not quite making any sound of agreement or disagreement. Sure, he thought about it plenty. He missed sparring with Bucky and Yelena so damn much, and he would love to spar with Ava, just because it would be insanely interesting to spar with her abilities. Honestly he wanted to spar with all of the new Avengers, but with sparring came friendship sooner or later, and then love, and then loss. Peter had already lost too much. He couldn’t lose any more. He didn't have enough grief left in him to lose anyone else. 

"I can't," Peter sighed eventually. 

"Why's that?" Yelena asked, her head lolling to the side to look at him, eyebrow raised challengingly. When Peter just shrugged, she glared, "Come on Spidey, you can't possibly hate us, so why?"

Peter looked away, staring up at the roof for a long time, before hopping up to his feet and heading to the door. Only then did he pause looking back to Yelena, who was now sitting up and staring at him with a mix of annoyance, worry and confusion. 

"Can't afford to get attached," Peter explained blankly, before slipping out of the gym and vanishing into the vents. He couldn’t. He couldn't lose Yelena for a second time. It wasn’t fair. 

Peter didn't watch the Avengers over the cameras or in person for several months after that. He had gotten too close, he couldn’t do it again. He saw them in passing when he left for patrols, but they never saw him, and he didn't stay to listen in. He had to be careful. He could not get attached. Even if he ached to watch them, to pretend to be a part of the group, to pretend to be family, he didn't. He couldn't. 

He had stuck by that rule so firmly, maybe he thought he was free. If he could just simply not interact, not get attached, he wouldn't lose them, and so far that had been going perfectly. 

And then he ran into Bob, crying and panicking and overwhelmed, and all Peter could do was what he always did when someone needed help. He helped. 

It was nothing special, just practiced coaching the man out of a panic attack. It wasn’t surprising that he was good at that, given the pure number of panic attacks of his own he had needed to fend off in his lifetime. Plus he had taught himself all he could about helping victims after stressful events, and dealing with panic attacks was a big part of that. 

Still, Peter refused to get attached, so, feeling painfully guilty, he left once Bob was okay – although not before asking Friday to get Bucky or Yelena. 

He hid for another month or so after that, not wanting them to get the wrong idea – not wanting himself to get the wrong idea. Honestly, that time period should have been much longer, it was supposed to be, but Peter had been having a bad day and he was just a little too out of it when he was headed out to patrol. That combined with the fact that Ava somehow managed to avoid setting off his spider senses had Peter stumbling as he ran face first into her. 

"Spiderman?" Ava questioned in surprise, before her eyes lit up, and fuck that was too excited. She shouldn't be this happy to see Peter. She shouldn't. No one should. Hell, no one was even supposed to see him full stop. He wanted to make a run for it, but before he could, Ava's hand was on his wrist and her startling grey eyes were piercing into his soul. 

"Hi?" Peter squeaked out, desperately not wanting this interaction. He hadn't wanted to deal with people today. He really hadn't. He hadn't want to run into Ava, and he really didn't want Ava to keep talking to him or keep him here, but at the same time he really wasn’t sure he could escape Ava. Not easily at least. 

"Hi, sorry, I just want to say… you seem cool and like the sort of hero I wish I could have been. So, thank you, I guess?" Ava mumbled, her previously piercing gaze now searching desperately for some escape. Huh. What... what was that about?

"You're an Avenger," Peter pointed out dully, not really knowing what else to say. How was he supposed to respond? He had no clue. 

"Yeah, sure, in name and branding, but reality? I'm an assassin. You're a hero who looks out for everyone, even people like I was," Ava explained in a rushed voice, pausing for a moment before mumbling the last little bit, "I dunno, I guess you're just the only hero who I feel would have actually tried to save me if you had been around, back when I was a kid."

Oh. Peter... Peter hadn't expected that. 

"Not one of the other Avengers – the old ones I mean?" Peter asked tentatively, because why would Ava trust HIM of all people?

"Most of them were with SHEILD enough that I couldn’t trust them. Besides, they always seemed like they had bigger things to worry about. Even in the chaos, you seem to always be around for the smaller things. Maybe I'd have been one of those smaller things if I were a decade or so later," Ava smiled wistfully, finally letting go of Peter's wrist – not that he made any move to leave. How could he, when she had just admitted something so clearly close to her heart? About him no less. 

"You shouldn't... I'm not sure I'm all that," Peter muttered, finally looking away. He hadn't saved May, hadn't saved Tony, hadn't saved Nat, hadn't saved himself, hadn't saved so damn many people, and Ava thought he could have saved her? He wasn’t an Avenger. He never had been, even if once he had been foolish enough to think he could be. 

"You don't have to be anything, Spiderman. Just know I respect you. So does everyone else on the team. We'd love for you to join us sometime."

"I can't," Peter hissed. It was too much. Too dangerous. He couldn't. 

"That's okay. You don't have to. It's just an offer, if you ever can."

There was so much damn honesty and understanding in Ava's voice that it almost broke Peter where he stood. 

"Thank you," Peter whispered, "I'm... I'm sorry."

And with that, he vanished, making himself as scarce as possible. He didn't go on patrol that night. He may have stared at Mr Stark's suit for several hours in silent contemplation – or perhaps dissociation, who knew? He may have even gotten some sleep. He really wasn’t sure. It was always hard to tell what exactly happened when he was alone and his thoughts decided to make up for the silence. 

He missed dinners with the Avengers, full of constant chatter and too many conversations at once. He missed building lego with Ned and rambling back and forth about whatever they were hyperfixated on at the time. He missed the quiet of Mj's company that still somehow staved off his stupid thoughts. He missed the chaos of prank wars in the tower. He missed May talking about her day as though the tiniest kind thing someone did was proof humanity was inherently good. He missed the people who had loved him and chased away the dangerous thoughts. 

Peter missed a lot of things. 

He wondered if just maybe one day he would be able to trust himself enough to be around other people again. He wasn’t sure. He kind of doubted it.