Chapter 7
It would be interesting to know just how much Bucky breaks the speed limit, but he doesn't really have time for thoughts like that. The only thing he's focused on is getting there before Peter.
“Toys R Us”, in Macy's, Times Square. Seriously, only Peter would pick this destination point while he and his Daddy are being targeted by one of the biggest underground kingpins this side of the Hudson. It's probably a smart move in the kid's opinion. Stop there first before going somewhere else. Throw off any potential unwanted pursuers, before ultimately heading to his Daddy's hideaway.
The thing is, Bucky needs to catch him before he sets off on that journey from “Toys R Us”, because he doesn't even want to think about what can happen to this little shit on the way there. Especially if they're really being tracked by the Toomes’ people like Tony was suspecting. Especially if – no, better not to think about that. Better not to think at all. Just drive.
The store is closed, of course. Colorful screens bleed neon everywhere, hurting his eyes, but the actual windows are dark and creepy. Bucky finds a spot to lay low and keeps his eye on the taxis. There are many, it's the city that never sleeps, after all. But none stops at “Toys R Us”.
What if he's late? What if Peter's been here already and now can be anywhere in this huge city? What if Toomes got his claws on him?
‘It's all your fault’ hammers in Bucky's head. ‘It's always your fault.’
And he can't even argue with that.
Pink neon from the many billboards of Time Square glimmer on a polished car's surface. The car is stopping. Bucky sees a slim boyish frame climbing out and pulling two big dogs with him. Bingo. Thank fuck! How did he even manage to get a ride with both dobermans? But with Peter it's not even a surprise. That kid can and probably has gotten away with much crazier things. Bucky steps out of his hideaway and appears in front of Peter the moment the boy closes the passenger door shut and turns around.
“Gonna tell me you've been sleepwalking, pal?”
The kid's face is priceless. His big bambi eyes grow three times their size, jaw drops, mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. Mark and Dum-E jump around excitedly, apparently thinking it's all some fun night walk.
“I-” Peter squeaks out, then closes his mouth and opens it again. He turns around helplessly, maybe hoping to jump back into the taxi, which is probably halfway to the next client already. There's only a black car hovering in the distance that Bucky's noticed a few seconds before.
“Let’s go home, Peter.” Bucky makes a move to grab the boy's shoulder, but he jumps away.
“No! I'm going to Daddy!"
Bingo.
“Are you fucking kidding me?! Do you even remember what Tony told you before leaving?”
Bucky clenches and unclenches his fists. He's gonna kill this kid. Thank God there are basically no people around, or they would get a whole crowd causing a scene. Only that same black car in the distance still hasn't decided where to go and that doesn't sit right with him.
Peter crosses his arms over his chest, which is a bit tricky because he's holding both dobermans' leashes.
He glares up, brows furrowed, lower lip sticking out. Every bit a petulant child.
“Don't care.”
Oh wouldn't it be lovely if Tony heard his pet right now.
“Oh so you don't care how hard he's gonna punish you, huh?” Bucky manages not to smirk when he notices Peter gulping, face paling a bit. “Can your poor ass even take it?”
The kid flushes cherry red.
“Not your fucking business!” His voice is bitter and angry. “You'll be happy you won't have to put up with me anymore!”
The night streets of NYC is the last place Bucky wants to have this conversation. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Listen, kid, about our talk-”
“No!” Peter stomps his foot. Bucky didn't know anyone older than a toddler actually did that. “You listen to me! I didn't ask you to come here, and you know what-”
Bucky doesn't get to know ‘what’, because that black car is finally moving. Towards them. Bucky senses the window sliding down before he sees it. He manages to push Peter down and to the side, shielding him, before the window opens fully and guns peek out.
If it wasn't for saving Peter, Bucky would be criticizing the technique right now. A drive by, really? How low class was Toomes? Can't even manage to pull off a real assassination attempt. He internally rolls his eyes.
“In my car! Now!” Bucky bites out, shoving Peter in his car’s direction and getting his own gun out at the same time.
The bullets swoosh through the air.
Stupid kid covers the dogs with his own body.
“NOW!!!” Bucky roars, grabbing the kid by the collar and throwing him towards the car, and starts shooting.
He runs along with Peter, covering him until the boy and the dobermans are in the backseat. Someone screams as shots boom through the square. Bucky's getting behind the wheel when he feels something hitting him in the shoulder.
“Bucky!” Peter's yelp fills the car.
The bullet drops down with a clank. He doesn't feel any pain. There's a beat of silence, and an excited gasp from the backseat.
“Woah! I knew your arm was so cool!”
“Shut up!!!” Bucky glances at the hole in his left sleeve and slams the door.
They start off, breaking more speed limits. Not sure how the cops aren't on their tail yet.
“Is the metal hot where the bullet hit it?” Peter perks up from the backseat. He sounds like he chugged a package of Red Bull.
Bucky feels how his teeth are grinding.
“Are you okay, kid?”
“They didn't get any of us. Dum-E might've peed in your car though.”
…Great.
“Can I touch your arm?”
“No!” Bucky pushes the gas pedal down, not sure where they're going yet. It depends on…
“They're going after us!” Peter says it right as he notices the black car in the mirror.
“I know.” He turns sharply and speeds up.
The next few minutes feel like hours and seconds at the same time. Filled with the roar of the engine, dobermans’ nervous panting, and sudden silence from Peter. City lights and neons blur into the neverending kaleidoscope. With the only constant element being the black car on their tail.
“Keep down in case they shoot.” Bucky takes a brief glance at Peter on the backseat. The kid's eyes are huge on his pale face, jaw set, mouth a thin line. There's something weird about it, like it's a mix of fear and calculated determination at once. Bucky doesn't have any time to analyze it now anyways.
He swerves again and mutters a curse – the road ahead lays straight like a line, no turns or forks. The Midtown tunnel is up ahead but he needs to U-turn to get to the entrance. The black car seems to be getting closer.
Bucky tries to speed up even more and nearly jumps when he feels a hand sneaking to his waist.
“What the-”
“Keep it stable.” Peter takes the gun out of the holster. Bucky's never heard his voice like this before – focused, sharp, cold even.
The kid loads the gun with one smooth, trained move, and slides his window down before Bucky even manages to protest.
“Slow down now.”
Bucky suddenly recognizes Tony's intonations. The kid definitely learned from his Daddy. He obeys, eyes trained on the mirror, on the road behind them.
Two shots come one after another in a span of three seconds – one to the black car's left wheel, one to the right wheel. The air fills with the sound of tires’ screeching. And right when Bucky wants to speed up, there's a third shot. A little hole darkens on the black car's windshield, and the pursuers roll over, crashing into a tree on the UN headquarters front lawn… yeah. That'll make the news later.
“To be sure.” Peter breathes out quietly, rolling back into the backseat and throwing the gun to the front one. He all but sprawls out over the seat, covering his eyes as if suddenly insanely tired.
Bucky speeds up, getting them as far from the crash as he can.
“Good job, kid.” That's all he manages to hoarse out, mind still processing what just happened.
Peter's lips curl up in a bitter smile.
“M’ thirsty.”
“Wait just a bit more, okay, kid?” There's finally a turn and he backtracks through narrow streets to get to the Midway tunnel entrance, and Bucky slows down a bit. “We can't go back to the mansion now. So cheers, let's surprise your Daddy. Just like you wanted.”
In the back, Peter groans and throws his head back on the headrest.
***
They're heading to Brooklyn. No one would come looking for Stark here – so naturally, that's where Tony's secret apartment is.
Peter's weirdly quiet in the backseat. Way too quiet for it to be normal.
“That was something else, kid.” Bucky starts carefully, glancing at him. “Didn't know you had tricks like that up your little sleeve.”
“Mhm. Would've liked me more if I'd been…” Peter vaguely waves his hand in the air. “This, all the time.”
“What?!” Bucky's eyes bug out. “Where did you get that idea from?!”
Peter shrugs, looking out the window and scratching one of the dobermans’ head. He looks more like his usual self now – like a kid. More like a hurt kid though.
Bucky parks the car as soon as they are on the other side of the tunnel and turns in his seat.
“Peter.”
The kid keeps glaring out the window stubbornly.
“Hey!” Bucky snaps. “Look at me when I'm talking to you.”
Little shit pouts, but does as he's told. Yeah. Tony's right – the kid only obeys stern orders. Power. Ugh, it's exhausting.
“Okay.” He clears his throat. “Now, about that talk of ours.”
The boy opens his mouth, no doubt to blurt something stupid, but Bucky points his finger at him.
“None of that. I'm talking, you're listening.” He takes a breath, feeling like he's jumping into cold water.
“People who were close to me – they got hurt. A lot. So the best thing was to push everyone away. Steve only stayed, because he's, well…Steve.”
He rolls his eyes, and catches Peter hiding a snicker.
“I'm so used to building up my walls, that…it terrifies me to put them down and let someone in. So everything I told you back then was out of- out of that fear.”
Bucky's heart is plummeting into his stomach. This is ridiculous. He looks at the kid – he's staring at him with wide eyes. Cautious, but with a hint of previous trust.
“I fucked up, kid.” Bucky lets out a breath. “And I'm sorry.”
Silence falls in the car. Peter bites his lip.
“So…” He speaks up carefully. “You don't think I'm a royal brat?..”
“Oh no, like hell you aren't!” Bucky scoffs. “The biggest one.”
“But you're not drained from my attitude anymore?”
“You're asking me this now, after this whole shit show? Seriously, kid? I'm way past drained at this point.”
Peter giggles nervously, squirming on his seat, before getting serious again.
“But does it mean,” he licks his lips, breathing in and out. “Does it mean you wanna be my f-…my family anyways?..”
He looks up at Bucky timidly, and Bucky makes sure to keep eye contact firm, no matter how hard it is. He owes it to the kid.
“Apparently, I'm a masochist. Wanting me to be in your family makes you one too, so.”
He stretches out his hand for a handshake.
“Peace?”
The kid beams up with the widest smile. He sticks his hand into Bucky's, and it feels like something dainty and fragile.
“Peace!”
They look each other and Bucky feels his own lips twitching up.
“Okay, enough of this sugary shit.” He rolls his eyes, making the kid giggle. “Sit back, we have a couple more blocks to drive.”
They drive through some dark alleys with suspicious atmosphere that has Bucky's nerves spiking up again – after all, who said there was only one car sent after them? Then through a few quiet blocks where normal people sleep peacefully. Or don't sleep. Bucky doesn't know what normal people do. Probably sleep though, lucky bastards.
He keeps glancing at Peter – his cheeks are blushy, mouth curled up in a smile. He looks like a kid getting home after a soccer game or something equally normal. Bucky catches himself breathing out in relief. He thinks that he wants to see Peter being his usual bratty childish self way, way more than that little cold-blooded assassin.
The dobermans are snoozing, curled up around the kid, as if sensing his mood and finally relaxing too. Bucky briefly wonders if one of them really peed in the car or if it was a prank.
The car dives into a dark archway, passes a few trees and stops at an old red-bricked building with a classic stairway up to the brownstone door and fire escapes sticking everywhere; some of them covered with potted plants. All windows are dark.
“Let’s go say hi to your Daddy.” Bucky sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.
Oh, he's not thrilled about this situation at all. Not even a tiny bit. Better to not even think how he's gonna explain it all. Seeing Steve, on the other hand, oh God, this is exactly what he needs after this crazy night.
There's some anxious squirming in the back seat, and Peter mumbles, voice full of hesitation.
“What if he's gonna be mad?..”
Bucky doesn't see a point in sugar-coating it.
“He's sure as hell gonna be mad, kid.”
Peter lets out a whimper.
“We can't stay here though. So better go face the music, buddy.”
They climb out of the car and go up the porch. Intercom doesn't reply for a while, Peter starts fidgeting like crazy, dobermans copying him. Finally, there's a ‘What the-’ and they're being let in immediately. The kid looks up at Bucky nervously, and he just shrugs. It is what it is.
They get upstairs in silence, atmosphere getting more tense with every floor, reaching its peak at the thick old-fashioned door without a number on it. Bucky feels the kid's hand holding onto his leather jacket, looking for support. Right as he raises his hand to knock, the door flies open, and they see Tony in its lit up frame.
He's clearly been sleeping – no shirt, pj pants and the bedhead Bucky's didn't think he was capable of having. There's even a mild pillow crease on his cheek. But none of that makes Tony Stark less intimidating. Those infamous dark eyes bore into them, filled with anger, confusion, horror and worry all at once.
Next to Bucky, there's a little sniffle.
“Hi, Daddy…”