Chapter 1
Spiderman observed a man with a metal arm tucked into an alleyway shedding his weird combat gear for newly stolen clothes. It was a scene the spider was all too familiar with, only he hadn’t swiped civilian clothes from the local vendors. Spiderman, the responsible fourteen year old he is, normally has a backpack with a change of clothes webbed up a wall. Sometimes.
“Do you got a receipt for those, buddy?” He shouted from the rooftop ledge.
The man looked up to find the voice. Eyes narrowing on the hero in a homemade super suit, he quietly said, “What the hell is that?” It was too quiet for any normal person to hear from that height, but Spiderman wasn’t exactly a normal person anymore.
“It was already obvious from your get up,” Spiderman said, gesturing to the “I LOVE NY” t-shirt that matched with the jeans who’s back pockets had embroidery “I LOVE NY”, and of course you couldn’t forget that it was a whole set that included an “I LOVE NY” baseball hat. “but you must really be a tourist. Must be the new villain uniform I haven’t heard about.”
Before he could respond, Spiderman attached a web to the New York Lover’s arm and reeled him up to the rooftop, almost. He was actually dangling the thief over the ledge. “Welcome to my city,” Spiderman said with pride. “Now you can either take off those clothes and I’ll return them to Larry, the lovely man you robbed by the way, or you can give me what you owe him, which is roughly seventy five dollars— I know, expensive,” he added with a mocking wince. “But welcome to New York! Wait, did I say that alrea—?”
A metal hand suddenly gripped Spiderman’s wrist and the New York Lover swiftly flung Spiderman over himself in one motion. Still attached by the web, the two were crashing back and forth between the two walls that made up the narrow alleyway together. The man slowed down their fall by dragging his metal fingers against one of the walls. He then used that fancy metal arm of his to rip off the web connecting the two.
Shit. Peter had to come up with a new web formula.
Less graceful with his landing, Spiderman stumbled to his feet. “So what’s it gonna be?” He called out. “Am I gonns have to pry the clothes off your body or are you gonna pay up?”
-
Peter got his shit rocked.
He probably lasted a minute before his Spidey sense failed him.
In his defense, Spiderman had never actually fought fought anyone before. He could hold his own against the low level baddies who vandalized or were petty thieves, but not against someone like this.
He may have been depending on his newly acquired Spidey sense to keep him alive a little too much. It worked fine against the street thugs, but the stakes get higher the later the night goes on. Due to some super unfortunate events that allowed Peter to stay out late as long as he wanted, his eyes were opened to the terrifying night life.
He had to learn the hard way that his sense isn’t invincible. There’s a sort of cooldown to limit how much his sense can detect, varying on the lethalness. Spiderman can only dodge the flying kicks or catch the punches so many times before exhausting his sense. It’s what made him more susceptible to taking a gut punch from the metal fist.
When he sunk down into a pile of trash bags and wheezing for air, Peter was so sure the man was going to start kicking him to a pulp with the way he pulled his leg back. Through his makeshift goggles, Peter saw the man’s eyes soften. Without another word, the man just walked off. (In the stolen clothes!)
The man certainly could’ve gone for overkill, but he didn’t. Spiderman could tell he fought differently than the other street thugs he’s taken down. There was more precision and thought behind his punches and definitely way, way more pain—
God! Peter hasn’t been punched like this since pre-spider bite. Which, sure, was only a few months ago… Still! It's the longest he’s gone without feeling a punch. The ones the jerks at Dikto Middle give him have turned into feeling like tickles if anything.
Peter managed to recover shortly after but not without the man making serious distance between the two. He was on foot and Spiderman found him ten blocks away from the location of their one sided fight. Knowing he definitely can’t take this man in a fight, Spiderman watched him from the rooftops from afar. Way, way, way afar.
There were a few times Peter thought he was caught and had to hide behind an air conditioner unit or water storage container whenever the man looked over his shoulder.
Then he knew he was definitely caught when the man circled back to the original alleyway. He felt the man staring up at the rooftops, waiting for Spiderman to poke his head over. He shouted something in a Slavic language, “Ты с Гидрой?” Possibly Ukrainian? Dunno. Peter’s specialty is Spanish.
“Ingles, amigo,” Spiderman shot back.
The man repeated himself in English. “Are you with Hydra?” Peter picked up the slight Brooklyn accent.
Spiderman dropped to the ground at such an accusation, though kept a fair distance between the two. Regardless of history being his least favorite subject, it certainly wasn’t his weakest. Peter knew enough about the good guys and bad guys to center his eighth grade final paper on it. “No way in hell I am! They were like, science Nazis and if Nazis can’t understand basic genetics then they shouldn’t be anywhere near science,” Spiderman said. Under the mask, Peter rose an eyebrow. “Are you with Hydra?” He said with an accusing tone.
The man hesitated for way too long before saying, “No.”
Listening to his heartbeat, Peter knew he was being truthful. “Cool, cool. So, uh…” he muttered. Peter awkwardly looked around, not knowing how to ask about his favor.
The man seemed to sense the impending question and did it for him, spitting out, “What do you want from me?”
Peter took a breath, finally saying, “The way you moved earlier… You’re a trained fighter — like you fight like the guys on YouTube, probably better.” Spiderman noticed the man furrowed his brows in confusion at the mention of YouTube. “I guess what I’m try to say is… canyouteachme?” He quickly blurted out the last part.
“Speak up, kid.”
“Not a kid,” Spiderman was quick to respond with irritation. “Teach me how to fight,” he repeated.
“No. I’m done with fighting,” the man spat out with bitterness.
“I’m not saying that we’re gonna fight just— just teach me,” Spiderman persisted.
“No,” the man said again.
Learning from his mistakes, Spiderman acted quickly. He bounced between the two walls as he wrapped a thick layer of webs around the man. He was strong enough to break through a string of web earlier, but Peter was gonna have to take his chances that a thick layer would hold the man.
When he flexed around the straitjacket like webs, Spiderman replaced the little tears he made with more webs.
“If you don’t then I’m gonna give you to Larry like this.” Spiderman was above threatening, but this guy was practically a villain. Stealing clothes in broad delight? A gateway drug! Soon he’ll be committing armed robbery, grand theft auto, the works.
The man huffed out a sigh once he realized he couldn’t escape the webbing.
“Meet me here in one week. And get your damn webs off me.”
Peter smiled under the mask. He then quickly scrambled to rip off the webbing. Once it was all off (mostly), Spiderman excitedly said, “Great! I’ll see you in a week!” As he webbed back up the building.
As Spiderman was swinging away, Peter came to a horrifying realization.
Oh my god, he totally forgot about his eighth grade final paper… It’s due first thing tomorrow morning!
-
Bucky was supposed to lay low. The first day of escaping Hydra and he was already caught. What a fantastic job he was doing at laying low. The kid, despite how he insisted he was not one, wrapped strong layers of sticky thread around him, only releasing him after basically forcing Bucky into agreeing to train him.
On the single punch that he managed to land on Bucky, he felt it. But it was sloppy and the kid had bad form. The kid was even catching his punches without so much as a flinch, adding on a witty comment as he did it, but that was worth nothing if he couldn’t keep up with an actual fight.
Seeing that those were the most memorable parts of the interaction, Bucky forgot all about agreeing to meet him in that alley in a week. He was preoccupied with doing a better job at staying off the radar of SHIELD and Hydra. Bucky was hopping all over New York securing fake documentation, shady side hustles to pay for the illegal services, and better clothes that didn’t scream tourist. Only a week after his initial meeting with the kid, he gathered a few hundred American dollars, six passports, three valid driver licenses, and eight forms of ID. He also picked up rumors of a cargo ship leaving for Portugal tonight.
Bucky’s prioity was getting the fuck out of New York, so he forgot all about his deal with ‘Spiderman.’
By now, he figured out who the sticky masked kid was: Queen’s very own pajama wearing, web slinging vigilante, Spiderman.
He never planned to uphold his deal, just agreed to get him off his back. Soon he’ll be sneaking onto the cargo ship and be on the coast of Portugal. From there he’ll work his way deeper into the European continent and off the coast, god he was sick of the water. Maybe Hungary or western Romania, either way he was trained to be fluent in both languages.
Bucky would honestly prefer to stay in New York. With the memories beginning to come to him after a trip to the Smithsonian and illegal errand runs in Brooklyn, he remembered that this was home. The buildings were modern and technology unbelievable, but the humble people remained the same. New York was his home. But he can’t afford to stick around.
With an hour until midnight, he lurked around the pier where the cargo ship was docked, waiting for the last second until the ship’s departure. As he assessed the best strategy to sneak into a cargo container, Spiderman was assessing with him behind his shoulder.
Bucky jumped when he made his presence known by saying, “It’s just a bunch of mineral fuels so security ain’t too tight. I say you go stealth mode and avoid hurting any workers.” Spiderman continued rattling on like nothing, “You can always pay them off if they catch you. They get paid like dirt anyways so you’d be helping them out.” He added the last part with a subtle touch of bitterness.
Bucky swiveled around to face Spiderman. How on Earth did he find him? From what he gathered, Spiderman sticks to Queens. Right now, they were at a Brooklyn pier.
“I can’t believe you stood me up, man…” Spiderman placed a hand over his heart, acting hurt. “On our one week anniversary!” He yelled out the last part, drawing attention to the pair. A few sailors hushed their chattering to look where the commotion was coming from.
Bucky dragged Spiderman past a corner, further from the pier.
Spiderman ripped Bucky’s grip off him without struggle. A voice dripping with mockery, he said, “Heard of your work in Hell’s Kitchen. ‘Course Daredevil made sure you couldn’t finish the job.”
He was referring to a botched job Bucky took a couple days ago. He was supposed to get rid of a few pieces of evidence in a murder for five thousand dollars. With such a price Bucky took the offer right away without any further questions. After encountering another masked man in red, he learned why the payment was so high. Bucky still had a few bruises from who they call “Daredevil.’
“Tryna bail on me, buddy? After our super legit verbal contract where you agreed to teach me some moves.” Spiderman put his fists up in a terrible position that left him exposed.
Bucky was starting to think Spiderman was obsessed with the sound of his own voice because he hadn’t responded once to him, but here he was blabbering on like a broken record. A young broken record from an artist in the present time. Probably more like a CD. Bucky learned what a CD was yesterday.
Sick of the constant talking, Bucky finally relented. “Fine, lesson one,” he said as he took a step back. Despite being masked, he could tell Spiderman was perking up in anticipation. “Don’t talk so much during a fight,” and his fist shot towards Spider-Man’s masked face.
The punch would’ve landed if he wasn’t so goddamned fast. Spiderman did the most unnecessary backflip to dodge the punch.
The mask subtly moved where his mouth would be, ready to throw out another quippy comment. “T—“ Bucky stopped it from happening by throwing another punch, which he of course, dodged.
When the mask twitched up once more, Bucky repeated himself. “I said no talking.” He went for a roundhouse kick that Spiderman avoided by ducking down and he followed with an unnecessary backwards somersault.
From there, Spiderman lunged to tackle Bucky’s legs. It would’ve been a smart move if he knew what to do after. Bucky was knocked over and planned to bring down Spiderman with him. Just as Spiderman stood back up into a readied position, Bucky swept his feet under Spiderman’s, bringing him tumbling back down.
From there, he put Spiderman into a rear triangle choke leg lock. “You’re only fighting through speed, not smarts. It’s honestly a miracle you’ve made it this far,” he said through groans, finding it difficult to keep Spiderman restrained in the leg lock.
Still fighting against the leg lock, Spiderman said in between grunts, “Same time next week?”
Just then, the ship’s foghorn loudly rang, signaling the departure.
Bucky loosened his grip on Spiderman unconsciously. Spiderman rolled over after getting out of the hold, coughing and massaging his neck, but Bucky didn’t care anymore. He quickly rose to his feet and ran towards the pier. He shouted, “No, no, no!” But it was too late, the ship was too far out for him to make a jump for it, even for someone like him.
-
After a few days, Bucky waited on a different pier. This time it was a cruise ship heading to Iceland.
Spiderman whistled from his perch on a lamppost that couldn’t possible be comfortable. “You’d have nowhere to hide. All rooms are booked and the workers are all from overseas, you, a white man, would never blend in.”
They fought.
Spiderman didn’t rely on his sense for everything.
-
A week later, Bucky scouted out a private dock in Manhattan. This will be a riskier move, however a necessary one. Bucky secured his backpack straps as he surveyed the area. Heavy security, he counted twenty on the pier alone, easily way more on the ship itself. They were all armed.
Again, Spiderman had found him. He was leaning against a nearby bus stop as Bucky turned the corner. His mask was lifted up just to reveal his mouth so he could eat his churro. With an exasperated sigh he said, “Buddy, that’s a Stark Industries ship. Nuff said. You’ll never make it off the pier.”
Bucky doesn’t know why that name sounded familiar. At the moment he couldn’t afford to give a damn if it was some Stark’s ship or the president’s. He needed to get on it. Taking a step forward, Spiderman webbed down one of Bucky’s shoe. .
Spiderman continued on talking without noticing Bucky had slipped out of his webbed up shoe. “Hey, do you have any water? Manhattan churros are way more sweeter than— Wooahh!” He pulled Spiderman into an alleyway.
They fought.
Spiderman started utilizing his webs more for movement. Bucky told him he’s better off in long ranged fights as he kept on forcing him into hand to hand combat.
-
Bucky was sick of boats. A dozen ship run away attempts interrupted from Spiderman has that effect. Humble fishing boats, private yachts, ferries, no matter whatever kind of motorized boat it is, Spider has found him. This time, Bucky found an opening in the John F. Kennedy Airport and planned to sneak onto a plane’s cargo hold where they kept the luggage. If that wouldn’t work he could always hijack a helicopter.
Bucky stopped in his tracks.
Comfortably waiting for him on a plane wing, Spiderman asked, “Have you heard what happened last time someone snuck onto a plane in New York? Technically not in New York, more so above but it sure did land here.”
They fought in the middle of the damn airport.
Once security began closing in on them, Spiderman snatched Bucky up and swung them outta there. Swinging over the city wasn’t like any kind of torture Bucky was used to. The only thing keeping him from falling a thousand feet in the air was Spider-Man’s grip. Bucky had broken out of that grip many times, he knows it ain’t strong.
Spiderman landed them on top of a building in Queens. Bucky gasped for air, fumbling his hands around his head to make sure it was still on. Swinging that high at that speed made him feel like his head was about to snap off.
Spiderman pretended to wipe sweat off his forehead. “Phew! You owe me a sandwich, buddy.”
“I owe you a sandwich?!” Bucky said incredulously, standing up.
“Yup,” Spiderman said matter of factly. “Security knew you were in there the second you knocked out the ground crew—“ Bucky had gone in to throw a punch. As always, Spiderman caught it and instead of standing there stupidly impressed with himself, he used the leverage to pin Bucky’s arm behind his back.
The kid was actually learning.
They resumed their fight that was rudely interrupted by airport security.
Spiderman improved his footwork.
Having fought until exhaustion, they were both lying down on the ground while heavily panting.
“You ever been to Delmar’s?” Spiderman said in between breaths as he got to his feet.
Bucky had. Delmar has the best prices and is still slowly eating away at the few hundred Bucky made during his first week back in New York. Delmar’s was actually only a block away from his temporary hideout. Bucky is only staying there until he can get the fuck out of New York without Spiderman picking a fight with him.
He contemplated the indirect offer to eat sandwiches together. Fighting made Bucky hungry. And there was probably a bunch of police already on his ass, but he was also wearing a mask earlier.
“I’m taking the stairs,” Bucky finally said.
Spiderman slightly picked up his shoulders. “Suit yourself,” he said before back flipping off the building.
It was a short walk to Delmar’s. Spiderman was guaranteed to get there before Bucky with that web slinging torture device he’s got. Once Bucky arrived, he peered into the bodega from the doorway, the bright red and blue crime fighter not in sight. Bucky looked up at the buildings above, searching the private balconies Spiderman shouldn’t be on or small ledges he managed to stick onto. He half expected Spiderman to jump down from above with another stupid comment.
There was nothing except for the buzz of the city.
Just as Bucky was going to walk away — “Buddy,” a boy called out, leaning against Delmar’s window as he bit into his sandwich. Obscured from his hoodie and the sandwich stuffed in his mouth, Bucky couldn’t make out the face. “You’re tho wick to run awayb but ith thakes you ten minutes to get here,” the boy said with a mouthful of food.
No.
Bucky had come to terms he was beating up a kid ten fights ago and to be fair the kid was beating him up just as much. Frankly, he didn’t see a big problem with it since the kid was causing him trouble by following him all around the city and interrupting every attempt of escape Bucky makes. It wasn’t beating the kid up that bothered Bucky, it was the fact Spiderman was on the verge of revealing his identity to him. It’s so incredibly naive of him.
Once Bucky finally gets out of New York in a couple days (which is what he tells himself every day), he’s gonna be god knows where with the identity of Spiderman. The kid should be more cautious with who he goes around showing his identity to. For all Spiderman knows Bucky could be anywhere in the world and start babbling the super secret identity of Spiderman to anyone who’d listen.
He looked past the kid, trying to respect his privacy. “Where’s your onesie?”
“Not a onesie,” the kid muttered first before answering the question. He patted his backpack, signaling that the suit was inside there. “Anyways, I say we pick up my fighting lessons at your place. It’s giving Spiderman a bad rep to be caught fighting the same mystery guy every few days. He should’ve taken you out by now.” He spoke about himself in the third person.
Bucky was willing to bet that the kid already knew where his temporary living situation was. Otherwise he wouldn’t be insisting on changing their fighting lessons (that Bucky was forced into giving) to his hideout. First, this dumb kid was revealing his identity and second, was willingly going to walk into a trained fighter’s house who was ready to hijack a helicopter an hour earlier.
“You don’t even know my name,” Bucky tried making a point.
“Dude, you’re like in Module Five of my history textbook. Howling Commandos, only one to give up your life, supposedly to be dead… yet here you stand,” the kid said almost like a threat. Yet again, Bucky yanked them into an alleyway, wary of whoever could be listening.
The moment they were alone, Bucky could really see the kid’s face. A baby face, almost painfully innocent, but with bruises that were kind you couldn’t fake. It reminded him of Steve.
The kid touched his face and made a face that showed he just remembered the bruises. The bruises Bucky gave him minutes earlier. “Oh, don’t worry. I heal fast,” the kid insisted.
Bucky brushed it off. “When did you find out?” He asked in a low voice.
“When I stopped you from ruining that cruise to Iceland with your grand getaway.” So it was during their second fight. He paused, rubbing the back of his neck in thought. “I always thought you looked familiar and after proofreading my friend’s essay on the Howling Commands… it clicked. Bucky Barnes lives.”
“Essay?” Bucky squinted down at the kid. “God, how old are you?”
The kid dodged the question as usual. “My name’s Peter Parker, by the way. Seems fair you know mine too, Bucky Barnes.” There was a playful taunt in Parker’s voice every time he said his name that stung Bucky.
Nobody had called him that since… since Steve. The thought hit Bucky like a cold wave, sharp and unsettling. Bucky. That name, his name, had once felt like a warm hand on his shoulder, a sense of familiarity, a promise that he wasn’t alone. But now? He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had called him Bucky without the weight of it being a reminder of what had been torn away. It was always Winter Soldier, Asset, Subject.
To hear it now, coming from the voice of this kid, Peter Parker, of all people, was jarring. It was like someone had reached through the years and pulled something from deep inside him that he had buried. No, Hydra was the one who forced him into burying it.
Bucky felt the familiar ache in his chest, wondering how much longer he could keep pretending he wasn’t just a collection of broken pieces of a life that was stolen from him.
Bucky. It wasn’t a name he’d ever thought he’d hear again, not like this. Not with this kid who was still, somehow, so much like Steve in his innocent defiance. It stung more than he’d expected. He swallowed hard, trying to push the lump back down his throat, but it was hard. Too hard.
“You have no idea who you are dealing with,” Bucky said, though in truth he wasn’t so sure himself.
Parker let go of a backpack strap, swinging it to his chest. Wary of what he was going to pull out from it, Bucky took a step back and intently watched. As it zipped opened, Bucky caught a glimpse of the bright red and blue hero pajamas behind a wrapped sandwich.
Still warm, Parker tossed it over. “‘Had Mr. Delmar give me your order. He was all like I get dozens of customers a day! You expect me to remember everybody’s order? Then I said you wear gloves in spring on one hand and he was like, ohh, señor loco!” His impression of Delmar was impeccable.
Before Bucky can even consider thanking him, Parker starts talking again. “Anyways, can you teach me that jaw breaking uppercut you landed after I caught you mid-jump onto somebody’s private yacht?”
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “I broke your jaw?”
Parker brightly grinned, showing his very capable jaw. “Yeah, but I heal fast, remember?”
He was going to be one hell of a spider to shake off.
(Maybe Bucky will let him crawl around for a little while.)