Spider on the Wall
Peter followed the two super soldiers all the way back to Brooklyn. The apartment building the two stayed in was a tall, brick building with iron fire escapes zigzagging up the side. An unremarkable building just like many others in the area.
They bypassed the standard elevator and climbed six flights of stairs. All the while, Peter scratched at the strap of his backpack, trying to calm his nerves. Even with his few interactions with the two men, he trusted them. But there was still a blanket of awkwardness that draped over their interactions.
They reached the second of four doors on the right side of the hallway and Barnes unlocked three of the four locks Peter saw on the outside of the door. They stopped a few feet into the entryway as he also punched a string of numbers into an alarm system. Rogers closed the door behind him. Peter glanced at the man locking and deadbolting the entry as he kicked off his shoes.
He followed Barnes through the entry. The entryway opened up to the main living area, that, despite the lack of lighting, Peter could see pretty well.
Barnes flicked on a switch, illuminating the room. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected the decor to look like, but this was pretty on the nose. It’s mostly navy blue and warm browns. Vintage and masculine and homey.
“I guess I’ll give you the tour?” Steve said, passing Peter. Gesturing to the room in front of them he said, “this is the living and dining room.”
Moving further in and to the right was the kitchen. Then the hallway. “The door on the left is mine and Bucky’s room. Straight ahead is the office, and the door on the right is the bathroom.”
Peter nodded and set his backpack down next to the couch. “Thank you for letting me stay with you guys,” he said politely and got waved off.
“Really it's no big deal,” Steve told him, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa.
Barnes, who had wandered into the kitchen, poked his head around the corner. “Coffee? Tea? Water?” he asked.
“Water, please.”
Barnes came back into the room with two mugs and a glass of water for Peter. He accepted it gratefully and sipped it as Barnes sat in the armchair.
“So… I don’t know how long you’ll want to stay with us,” Steve started. “But there will be some, not exactly rules, but guidelines while you stay with us.”
Barnes spoke up. “More for consideration and safety’s sake than anything. We’re not the easiest to live with.” Peter nodded and he continued. “Okay so, first and foremost, we aren’t actually your parents and you're practically an adult, anyways, so we’re not going to ground you or anything. No curfew or any of that bullshit. Just, please try to use the door as much as possible. And preferably don’t come in as Spiderman. We don’t need the neighbours talking.”
Peter thought that was a reasonable request. The whole ‘secret identity’ thing had led to an entire fucking mess and the obliteration of his life. He definitely needed to do a better job of protecting it this time.
“Also we’re liable to shoot most things that try sneaking in through the window. Really not a good track record of them being friendlies,” Steve added on.
“In that same vein,” Bucky continued, “Please tell us when you’re leaving or coming back. Just so we can lock up after and unlock the door for you. Also, please keep the doors and windows locked when you're here.”
“Okay,” Peter said, nodding and glancing at the window to his left. There was a secure-looking lock around the latch. It seemed a bit paranoid, but he guessed he would be just as paranoid as the two men in front of them, had he lived their life.
“You’re welcome to any of the food in the house. You don’t have to ask or anything. Just, if you finish something or you want something we don’t have, add it to the shopping list.”
“Try to keep the volume down as much as possible. You don’t have to be silent or anything like that, but please don’t yell.”
“Respect our privacy and we,” Steve shot a meaningful look at Bucky, “will respect yours. There's not much around that's truly personal, but things that are off-limits are my sketchbooks and Buck’s journals.
“Probably should have actually started with this before taking you all the way here and such, but fair warning, we’re both a bit, well, difficult to live with.”
“That's a real nice way of saying we’re both fucked in the head,” Bucky muttered.
Peter snorted at that. “Me too, tho,” he said, and let out a small laugh.
“Guess you’ll fit right in, then,” Steve declared, standing up. He grabbed Bucky’s now empty mug as well as his own and disappeared into the kitchen.
Bucky started talking again. “We’ll clean out the office for you if you plan to stay more than a few days.”
Peter panicked a little. It was nice of them to offer to let him stay with them for a while, but he didn’t know how safe it was. Sure Steve and Bucky were ex-military, ex-Avengers, and ex-SHIELD/HYDRA (SHIELDRA?), but they were retired and trying to live a quiet life, it seemed. He only brought trouble. He really didn’t want to disrupt whatever they had going or to really intrude on their lives.
On the other hand, they were the only people who remembered him. And he wasn’t exactly prepared to set out on his own. They were offering, weren’t they? And they wouldn’t do that if they weren’t truly willing to take him in.
“You don’t have to decide now,” Bucky said, seeing Peter’s internal conflict. “We only really have the couch, unless you’d prefer a bedroll in the office.”
“The couch is fine,” Peter told him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Steve walk out of the kitchen and turn down the hall, disappearing into the office, if Peter remembered right.
“There is one other thing,” Bucky said. Peter nodded, waiting for the man to continue. “Steve doesn’t technically exist.”
“What?” Peter asked flatly. That wasn’t what he’d expected Bucky to say in any way, shape, or form. Sure he hadn’t known what had happened to the Captain after the Thanos debacle, but he really hadn’t kept tabs on any of the Avengers. He had more pressing things to worry about. Like rebuilding his life after disappearing for 5 years.
“He more or less faked his death. Officially, he doesn’t exist anymore. The only people who know he’s still around are select members of the Avengers.”
“But why?” Peter was thoroughly confused. Retiring and being legally dead were two very different things.
Bucky sighed. “Well he was never pardoned for what happened in Siberia or Germany, so he’s still an internationally wanted criminal. Plus he did some really… shady shit during the Blip. So we agreed that it was best if he disappeared. Opens up the option of retirement.”
Peter was a bit concerned about the ‘shady shit’ Rogers had done. He was Captain America after all. What could he have done that was so bad?
But Peter didn’t ask that. Instead, he asked, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because,” Bucky said, “you can’t tell anyone you're living with him. Or that you know his current whereabouts. We’ve been perpetuating the conspiracy theory that he's on the moon for fun. No one should be asking you about him, but if someone does, even if they're SHIELD, say nothing, lie, and please tell us.”
Peter nodded. “Of course. But does he never leave the house or…”
“Nah. He’d go insane being trapped inside. He looks pretty different, holds himself different. As long as he wears a mask or something to that effect, people don’t even look at him. In public, I call him Rogers. His alias is currently Roger Grant. Mostly because I thought it was funny.”
Peter smiled at the name. “Got it.”
“Good,” Bucky stood as Steve re-entered the room carrying a pile of bedding.
Steve set it on the end of the couch. “Here's this. I just got it out now so we don’t have to worry about it later.”
“Thanks,” Peter said automatically.
<...>
Over the course of the next few days, Peter picked up on random things about Steve and Bucky (as they insisted he call them).
The first thing was that, in true old people fashion, they rarely watched TV. When it was turned on, it was usually the news and it played in the background while the occupants of the apartment did whatever.
Peter spent most of his days studying for his GED and falling down random research rabbit holes.
Background noise was a constant in the apartment. Whether it was the news or music, there was always something. The music came from a record player that was by the reading nook. Usually, it played classical music or something from the thirties and forties. Other times, Peter would get completely blindsided by Britany Spears or The Neighbourhood pouring out of a BlueTooth speaker.
Another thing Peter noticed was the inconsistency of language. Now, Peter had been raised in a bilingual household. Aunt May had kept up a steady mix of English and Italian her entire life and Peter had followed suit.
But Steve and Bucky were a bit different. Most of the time, Peter didn’t even know what language they were speaking, let alone what they were actually saying.
Every once in a while, he’d pick out a word he knew. At this point, he was pretty sure he’d nailed down the languages as English, Russian, French, German, Italian, and what he was pretty sure was Japanese. Peter had no clue how they even knew all of them. Fucking supersoldiers.
So, naturally, he’d asked. The response he’d gotten from Steve was just, “I picked up a few things, though Russian, I learned specifically because of Bucky. It's still kind of his default and I couldn’t stand not being able to understand him. I only got truly fluent, though, when I spent almost a year in Russia.” This, naturally, had only sparked more questions, but they felt intrusive so Peter didn’t ask.
When he’d asked Bucky about the languages he’d said, “They got rid of the brainwashing, but the thoughts and memories are still there. I like Japanese, though. It's the first language since English that I learned on my own.” Peter felt too awkward after that to ask anything else and had quickly retreated back to his work.
Something else he noticed was that both supersoldiers always had their dog tags hanging around their necks. He was pretty sure that was no longer like a rule they had to follow or anything. It's not like they were in an active war zone. But Peter wasn’t about to ask about it. It was too personal. Sometimes it felt like having a conversation was like walking on eggshells. Any simple question could lead to some sort of trauma or dark past.
In the three nights he’d been at the apartment, he noticed how little Steve and Bucky slept. Peter had never had the best sleeping habits and recently he'd been worse, but (not to compare trauma or anything) he had nothing on the two men he was living with.
Sure, every night around 10, the pair would disappear into their room. But Peter could hear their voices and their breathing. He knew they rarely slept. And it was a weird thing to know. That they probably got less sleep combined than he did individually, but they didn’t show it.
They had each other, though, so Peter wasn’t going to say anything. It really wasn’t his place.
That brought up the next thing he’d noticed. He was pretty sure the two were dating.
It wasn’t like there was any outright PDA and it wasn’t his business so Peter wasn’t about to outright ask, but yeah. He was about 85% sure they were dating. And if they weren’t they should be. He was 100% sure they were in love with each other.
It was in the little touches the pair shared as they easily moved around each other. It was in the looks they shared. It was in the way they’d hold hands and latch pinkies. It was in the easy banter and play-fighting.
Also, the fact that they shared a room that even if it was rarely slept in, Peter knew there was only one bed. And this wasn’t the Great Depression anymore. They definitely had enough money for two. And the space for separate rooms.
So Peter was pretty sure the pair were in love and possibly dating. But that's none of his business. If they wanted to tell him, they could. Until then, he’d keep his mouth shut (not that there was anyone for him to tell).
<...>
The news was on again and it had drawn Peter’s attention away from his studying. It was a simple report of an incident in Queens in which a woman had been killed in a mugging gone wrong.
Steve, walking by, noticed his attention on the screen and stopped behind the couch. “What is it?” he asked, as they moved on to the next report.
“Nothing,” Peter said, lost in thought. He hadn’t gone out as Spiderman in a while. It was strange. He’d been spending almost entire days in the suit before Steve and Bucky had shown up. It was the only thing he had left. The only thing that he could truly cling to. Most of his worldly possessions were gone, lost in the limbo of moving and disappearing or the destruction of Happy’s apartment. Or they meant too much.
The suit, the Spiderman persona, was a wall he could put up. A persona he could dawn when he could no longer stomach being Peter Parker. It was nice to be remembered. It was nice to help people. It didn’t matter if Spiderman was a controversial figure. At least people knew who he was.
The past few days had been peaceful, but there was a growing itch under his skin. Not in a spidey-sense way, but in a claustrophobic, self-loathing type of way.
The news report still showed a picture of the victim’s face. God, she looked like Aunt May. A pang of guilt stuck in his chest. Who was missing this lady? She was a daughter, maybe a mother or an aunt, a mentor. Whoever she was, there were people mourning her loss.
He could have saved her. He should have been out there last night. More time as Spiderman. Because who cared about Peter Parker, the ghost? Spiderman helped people. Spiderman saved people from having to experience the loss he had with Aunt May.
Someone could be dying right now. And what was he doing? Watching TV? Studying? He should be out there. He had a responsibility to help people.
Steve drew him from his thoughts. “Oh, God. If I have to hear one more word about that asshole, I’m breaking out the Spirytus.”
Peter glanced at the news reporter who was now talking about John Walker. “What's Spirytus?” he asked.
“190 proof vodka,” Bucky said, joining them in the living room. “We can’t generally get drunk, but we’ve been meaning to see if a higher proof would be able to do anything.”
“190 proof?” Peter asked, shocked. That sounded strong enough to kill literally anyone else.
Bucky smirked. “Technically 192. Polskie, if I remember right.”
Steve nodded.
“Okay, then,” Peter said. “Just an FYI, I’m probably gonna head out later. I want to do some Spiderman shit.” Bucky and Steve exchanged a look at that. “What?”
“Nothing,” Steve deflected.
“No, no. You two did the look thing. You want to say something, so say it,” Peter told them.
Bucky sighed and dropped onto the couch. “We know you're extra durable and doing vigilante things-” Peter opened his mouth to argue that it was heroism but Bucky just talked through him. “-No , don't argue it's not heroism. You didn’t sign the accords and you're not an adult, ergo facto: vigilante. Anyways, you’ve been vigilante-ing for a whole. You don’t need protection or anything.”
“But?” Peter said, knowing it was coming. He felt anger bubbling up.
“But you’re still really young,” Steve said.
Peter bristled. Who were they to tell him what he can and can't do? “So I can’t be Spiderman? Is that how it is? How old were you when you joined a fucking war?” he spat out.
“No, that's not what we’re saying at all,” Steve clarified.
“For one, I was drafted,” Bucky pointed out. “ And two, we would just prefer you took one of us with you.”
Peter blinked. “Like a babysitter?”
“No, like backup,” Bucky said. “We won’t interfere if you don't want us to, but we’ll be there in case something goes south.”
“That still sounds like a babysitter to me,” Peter griped. Honestly, it didn’t sound like the worst idea to have someone out there with him, but he was also hesitant to accept help. He’d been doing this shit for years. He could handle his own.
Steve shook his head. “It's backup. And it's smart to always have someone to watch your six. Speaking from experience.”
Peter glared at them. His gaze was met by Bucky who wasn’t glaring but his face was set. It was the same look he’d seen the man give Steve when he wanted to do something stupid. They stared at each other in silence.
“Fine,” he conceded, blinking and looking away. Maybe he gave in a bit too easily, but if he was being honest with himself, he would probably feel more comfortable knowing someone had his back out there.
Both men nodded. “Just tell us when you're gonna head out,” Steve said, walking to the kitchen, hand in Bucky’s, thus taking the other with him.
He heard the two talking in the other room as he turned back to the workbook that sat on the coffee table.
“How come when this kid wants to go fight crime, it's fine, but when I wanted to, you had an issue with it?” Steve asked, opening the fridge.
“Maybe because Peter has superpowers?” Bucky said sarcastically. “Stevie, you couldn't even breathe right.”
“отвали, мудак”
<...>
“Welcome back to Channel 7 News. It's December the seventh, 9 pm, and I’m your host Jimmy Connors. Tonight's story is about the troubling power vacuum in Stark Industries. Since the death of Tony Stark, the lead engineer position has been left open.
“With no one to fill that spot, many operations have been halted and delays are to be expected on the launch of their green energy project, as well as the release of the next StarkPhone. For many people with the qualifications, filling Stark’s empty spot would be a dream come true. But few actually have what it takes.
“With the business side covered by current CEO Virginia Potts, the company has been faring well. But in the past week, stocks for Stark Industries have been dropping. We wanted to ask for Ms Potts’ perspective on the matter, but she was unavailable for comment.
“So will Stark Industries be able to find a brilliant person to fill the vacuum, or will it, like so many other companies, be sucked under? We’ll just have to wait and see.
“Now onto Linda for the five-day forecast.”