The Home That Built Me

Peter laid on the bedroom floor in the room he was kept in. He missed his dad. He wanted his mom and his siblings and dog but he killed them all. 

Steve had said it himself, if he misbehaved, he’d get his old family killed, and that’s exactly what happened. 

He messed up big time. 

Peter picked up one of his teddy bears and ripped the ribbon off its head, throwing it behind him. “There. Now you’re a boy and not a stupid girl.” He reached over to do the same to his other teddy bear but the ribbon accidentally ripped off the stitching to the bear, ripping a hole in its fur. 

Peter gasped. He pulled the ribbon a bit more, purposefully tearing the bear apart. 

He kept going until the whole back of the teddy bear was ripped open and fluff was pouring out everywhere. He tossed that bear behind him as well and reached for the one he held previously. 

“Now you’re all alone. You have nobody.” He hit the bear's head. “Don’t cry about it. Crying won’t do you any good.” 

Peter shook his bear then stood up, kicking the broken teddy and it’s evidence underneath his bed and opening up his bedroom door to walk into the kitchen. 

The house was cold. 

The floors were an old stone with a red patterned rug covering it that was torn at the edges. Peter wondered how old it was. It also smelt damp and musty, definitely not like his home. 

He placed his teddy bear on the kitchen table then walked over to Bucky, standing in front of him and blocking the tv. “Where’s Steve?” 

“You mean your daddy.” 

“Y-yeah. Where-where is he?” 

“He had to run to the store to pick up a few things. He’ll be back soon.” 

Peter didn’t respond to him. He turned around and looked at what he was watching on the tv but then Bucky reached forward and turned it off. “How about you go back to your room to play.” 

Peter shook his head. “I want to give my bear some milk. In a bottle.” 

Bucky stood up with a grunt and walked into the kitchen, grabbing one of the bottles from the cabinet. Peter watched him carefully. “How about I fill it up with water and you pretend it’s milk.” 

“No. That’s not good enough.” 

“It’s going to have to do-” 

“Nooo! I said it’s not good enough!” Peter screamed, stomping his feet on the spot and close to throwing himself down on the floor. 

Bucky opened up the fridge and grabbed the jug of milk, giving into Peter’s demands. Peter immediately stopped whining once he saw that he was getting what he wanted. He watched Bucky pour milk into a bottle to the halfway point and shut the lid. 

Peter didn’t take it when it was offered to him. “You forgot the special stuff.” 

“What special stuff?” 

Peter threw his head back, getting irritated easily since he was overtired, missing his family and had drugs still coursing through his system. 

“The-the-the grrrrrraaaa! The stuff!” Peter threw himself onto his butt, crying. He pointed to the cabinet that held the special stuff he was talking about. “In ‘dare!” 

It suddenly clicked for Bucky. Oh. “That stuff is only for you, not your teddy bear.” 

Peter cried harder. “But why?” 

“Because it’s to help you stay healthy. Your bear has other special things in his diet.” Bucky lied then lifted Peter off the floor to sit him on the kitchen counter. He squeezed cheeks together. “Stop crying. If you keep crying, the monsters will hear you and they’ll come to hurt you.” 

“Mmmhmmmm!” Peter moved his head away and shut his mouth, trying so hard to be quiet but it didn’t work since he broke out into sobs after. “I-I just wan-wannna go h-h-home. Bucky. Plea-please. Please.” 

“You are home. Stop talking nonsense.” 

Peter just stared at him and cried. He didn’t know what to ask for. All he wanted was his dad. He looked beside him on the counter and saw Bucky's phone lying there. Bucky followed his eyes then lifted Peter off the counter. 

“Bucky.” Peter whisper-pleated. 

He watched Bucky grab another bottle from the cabinet, fill it to the top with milk then open up the special cabinet. He pulled out an orange bottle with a label, opened it and placed two tablets on the cutting board. 

“What’s that?”

“Lunesta.” Bucky explained as he crushed the two pills. “Do you know what that is?” 

Peter reached for his bear and shook his head. 

“It’s special fairy dust that keeps all the monsters away from you.” 

Peter wiggled his nose. “Fairy’s aren’t real. You’re lying!” 

Bucky didn’t give in to him. He scraped the crushed up pills into his bottle, closed the lid and shook it. “Go lie down on the couch.” 

“No!” 

“Peter. I’m doing this to help you. That’s all I’m trying to do. You need to drink your milk to feel better.” Bucky grabbed his arm and the other bottle then pulled Peter into the living room, lifting him up by his arm to sit him on the couch. 

“I don’t want it.” 

“You like it.” Bucky placed his bear in his lap and handed him his bear bottle. “Feed your bear and drink your special milk.” 

“What’s in it?” Peter wanted to know, he wasn’t sure if Bucky was telling the truth or not before. And his head still felt extremely fuzzy. He didn’t entirely know what was going on. “Bucky?” 

Bucky pulled Peter’s legs down and pushed the bottle's nipple past his lips. “Drink it. No more questions. I told you it’ll keep the monsters away.” 

Peter began drinking, the soothing cold milk on his throat felt good and the motions brought him some comfort so he let Bucky hold the bottle so he could drink, occasionally looking around the room. 

After a few minutes, he turned his head away to stop drinking since his mind was beginning to feel groggy and his body felt like jello, however Bucky wasn’t so quick to let him go. 

“C’mon, bear, you have to drink it all.” Bucky re positioned Peter’s body so he was lying down a bit more. Peter didn’t know if Bucky was talking to him or his teddy bear. 

He accepted the nipple being pushed against his lips again and sighed out his nose, drinking at a slower pace. 

“Can… can…” He tried, pushing the nipple out once again. “Daddy. Daddy?” 

“He’ll be here soon.” Bucky promised him. “Finish your milk, and when you wake up, daddy will be here.” 

That was all Peter needed to hear. He weakly lifted his weak hand up to hold the bottle, drinking more of the milk. 

It didn’t take much longer until Peter drifted into a dreamless sleep. 

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“Are you sure no one saw you?” Bucky asked as he grabbed some bags from the backseat of the truck. 

Steve took his baseball cap off. “Relax, Buck. We’re safe. No one even glanced twice at me. Plus the police are looking in the wrong place. We’re safe here for a bit until Ross can get that plane ready for us.” 

“Peter’s face is all over the news, Steve.” 

Steve shut the front door behind them, locking it. “And that’s why Peter won’t leave the house. We’re safe here.” He stepped into the house and saw Peter asleep on the couch, his face melting. “He fell asleep?” 

“You can say that.” 

“What does that mean? Did he miss me?” 

Bucky lifted all the bags onto the counter. “He was emotional. Asking for Stark. So I put two Lunesta in his milk.” 

“Bucky. I gave him a Zolpidem this morning.” Steve stopped to glare at him. They really should be writing these things down. 

“Oh. It’s fine, it makes him groggy and he asks less questions. It’s fine.” He continued pulling out some of the items, stopping when he grabbed a familiar bottle. “Histrelin acetate? Are you sure we should give this to him again?” 

Steve left Peter’s side to take the container from Bucky's hands. “Is that even a question. Stark took him from me. He pried my baby from my arms and brainwashed him. I lost out on four years I could have had with him because of that man. So yes, I want to give it to him.” 

“We gave this to him once he turned eight. I don’t think we should give it to him without a doctor's prescription, Steve.” 

“Are you saying you know my baby better than me?” Steve walked around the kitchen counter to stand in front of Bucky. “ you know how hard I fought to get to him. So why would you think this isn’t a good idea now.” 

“Steve. I know I don’t know Peter better than you. But don’t forget that I helped raise him too. And I don’t think giving him more puberty blockers at age fourteen is good for him.” 

Steve stared at Bucky. “It’s the perfect age.” 

“I just don’t want this to get him sick.” 

“It won’t. It’ll heal him.” He gestured to Peter lying unconscious on the couch. “He hasn’t started puberty yet. Meaning what we’ve been giving him when he was younger has worked. So let’s inject some more. No harm done.” 

Bucky watched Steve place the container on a high shelf and walked over to the couch. He sighed. He didn’t agree with this but there wasn’t much he could do about it. 

.

.

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Peter didn’t know if he was awake or asleep but he heard voices. 

He didn’t know if they were loud or quiet, he didn’t even know if they were voices. Slowly, he pried his eyes open but was surprised to find that it was dark inside with the only light being the tv that was playing a cartoon and the kitchen light on behind him. 

Peter sat up. His head felt heavy and he couldn’t think of a complete thought. 

“Urg.” He moaned, kicking the blankets off himself and feeling the wetness between his legs. He didn’t care. “Da…daddy?” His throat felt so dry. Peter spotted his bottle and reached out to take a few sips of the now warm milk, his head twisting some more. 

“Mmm. Uhhh.” He whimpered, reaching down to pinch himself. Am I even awake? What the heck is happening right now? 

Peter heard the floor creak and lifted his head up but he didn’t see anyone. 

He groaned. 

When he glanced back towards the tv, the light and movement hurt his eyes so he tore them away, only to spot a phone lying on the coffee table. 

In his weak state, Peter carefully slid off the couch, crawling a bit to reach for the phone. He opened it and pressed 9-1-1 but his finger hovered over the call button. 

Was he still dreaming? But if he was awake, he would surely get caught and get into trouble. But Peter didn’t hear or see anyone at the moment so he pressed the call button, listening to it ring two times and then… 

“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?” 

Peter didn’t speak. 

“This is 911. Do you have an emergency?” 

“Hello?” Came his small voice. 

“Hi. Do you have an emergency?” 

Peter looked behind him but the couch was blocking his view. “Um… mm don’ know.” 

“Can you tell me your name? How old are you?” 

Peter coughed. “I-I don’… don’ know ‘ere I am.” 

“Okay. Stay on the phone with me. Can you tell me your full name?” 

Peter heard footsteps so he quickly closed the phone, successfully hanging up. After placing the phone back on the table, he crawled over to the other side of the couch and curled into a ball. 

“Peter?” 

Footsteps walked around the couch and stopped in front of him. “Oh. Bear. Did you fall off the couch? How long have you been awake for?” It was Steve. He leaned down and lifted Peter up but froze when he felt his wet pants. “Oh no. Did you make a pee pee in your pants?” 

Peter rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, looking around from the new height he was at. “Mmmm.” 

“It’s alright. I’m going to get you washed up then you need to take some special medicine.” 

“Special medicine?” Peter slurred, looking at Steve as he walked them down the hallway and into the master bedroom bathroom. 

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you cleaned up. Think you can stand?” 

“Stand?” Everything felt so slow and fast at the same time. Like things were moving in quick frames rather than real time. 

Steve chuckled then thought better of it. He grabbed a cloth and soaked it in the sink then carried him into the bedroom, laying him down on the bed. “Daddy will take care of you. Don’t you worry.” 

Bucky walked in holding the puberty blocker’s injection in its case. He set it on the dresser, making eye contact with Peter. “He slept longer than I planned.” 

Steve peeled off his wet pants and started wiping him with the cloth but Peter flinched. The cloth was freezing cold. He whimpered. “Stop. Too cold.”  

“I know. It’s supposed to be.” 

Peter whined but there wasn’t much he could do but wait until the uncomfortable feeling went away. He rubbed the few tears that leaked out of his eyes then he was yanked into a sitting position. 

“Can you grab me the box, Bucky?” 

Bucky handed it to Steve even as he protested. 

“Shouldn’t we wait until these drugs leave his system?” He put the thought out there but Steve didn’t want to hear it, knowing deep down that Stark was coming for him. 

“Drugs?” Peter’s mind slowly comprehended what was being said. But no one paid him any attention. He tried to rub his eyes to get rid of the fogginess in his brain. 

“We’ve given him Histrelin acetate before. We know the effects it has on him. He’ll be fine.” Steve opened up the container and sat on the bed. “Come and hold him, will you.” 

“Wha… what’s that?” 

“Puberty blockers, Peter.” Steve sat in front of him and waited until Bucky sat behind Peter and held one of his arms against his chest. Peter didn’t fight back, only watched. 

Peter couldn’t comprehend that. “Oh.” 

He let Steve pick up one of his arms, twist it and rub a cold alcohol wipe over his inner elbow. He then watched as he pulled a big needle from the bag and started squirming. “No needles. Please. Please.” 

He got flashbacks to when Steve used to give him needles when he was younger, he forgot about that until now. Or maybe he didn’t want to remember it. 

“Hold him still.” Steve told Bucky. Peter stood no chance. It wasn’t like he was a large kid to begin with and he was already in a weak state against two full grown men. 

He tried to pull his arm away but it didn’t even budge and then he felt the pinch as the needle went underneath his skin and into his bloodstream. 

It only lasted a few seconds however and then the needle was pulled out and a bandage was placed over the hole. 

Peter fell against the blankets and cried into them. He was in so much pain, his body felt like it was floating above the clouds and all he wanted was his dad. 

He barely registered Bucky leaving the room with the needle in tow and Steve dressing him into pyjama pants. 

All he wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up again if that meant getting to be with his family again. 

The next time he fell into a drug induced sleep, he welcomed it happily.

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Tony was going insane. 

It felt like every breath he took was a second closer to dying by getting his heart ripped out of his chest. 

It was day three and Tony couldn’t take this anymore. Why did the world have to be so cruel? Why did Peter have to get taken from him again? Tony hated that he thought this but why couldn’t someone else’s child get taken from him, why did it have to be his? 

He rested his head on the steering wheel of his car, trying so hard to keep himself together while he waited for Natasha to leave the police station. He was driving himself insane. 

Every car that past by, Tony wondered if Peter was in there, if maybe he was in reach of his boy but had no idea. 

The door to the building opened and Natasha walked out, holding some papers in her hand. She got into the passenger seat and shut the door, pulling out a CD. 

Tony wasn’t getting his hopes but he knew it was nothing or Natasha wouldn’t have walked out, she would’ve been running and yelling at him to start the car. 

“So…?” 

“The 911 call was placed at 4:09 this morning. We have no trace of the call or no number to call back.” She explained to him. “But it’s a kid's voice, male or female, they can’t make it out. They mumble quite a bit throughout the call.” 

Tony nodded. There must be hundreds of young children calling 911 everyday but it was worth a shot. “Okay. Play it.” 

Natasha put the CD in and pressed play. Tony listened as the phone ring once, twice… 

“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?” 

The other end was quiet but Tony could hear some muffled sounds, like the phone was dragging over a blanket or something. 

“This is 911. Do you have an emergency?” 

Then Tony couldn’t believe what he was hearing next. 

“Hello?” 

He gasped and covered a hand over his mouth. He knew his baby’s voice and that was Peter. He knew it. He sounded half asleep but that was no doubt Peter. 

“Hi. Do you have an emergency?”

“Um… mm don’ mmno.” Came Peter’s muffled and mumbled voice but Tony could make it out clearly. 

“Can you tell me your name? How old are you?” 

Peter coughed and it sounded wet and chunky. Tony’s heart was shattering. “I-I don’… don’ know ‘ere I am.” 

A few tears leaked from Tony’s eyes so he quickly wiped it. Peter was clearly unwell, possibly drugged, maybe sick, Tony didn’t know but he did know that the clock was counting down. 

“Okay. Stay on the phone with me. Can you tell me your full name?” 

There were muffled sounds coming from the other end and then it hung up and Tony reached desperately for the device playing the recording, but that’s all it was, a recording. 

“No. No no no. What happened?” 

Natasha pressed the pause button. “The call ended, Tony. Whoever called, hung up.” 

“It was Peter. I know it was, Natasha.” He looked at her desperately. “I know my kids voice, that is Peter. I’m certain.” 

“Tony. Take a breath.” She placed a hand on his thigh. “That could be any child. They didn’t say their name, their age, they didn’t even know where they were.” 

“You think Peter knows where he is?” 

Natasha nodded, trying to be patient, knowing Tony knew the time was running out. They both knew Steve was either going to kill himself and take Peter with him or leave the country. 

“Tony. The child was mumbling half their words. I couldn’t even understand what they were saying.” 

Tony desperately tried to get Natasha to believe him but he didn’t even know if he believed himself. He was so so desperate for something. Anything. 

“He said um I don’t know. Then he said I don’t know where I am. He’s obviously scared. And I know that’s him.” He pulled the CD out and got out of the car, walking with purpose into the building. 

Natasha followed after him, following him over to a computer where two workers sat. 

“I need you to trace this 911 call. It’s my son. I know it.” 

“Mr. Stark, even if it is your son, we have no way of tracing it. It came from a burner phone. And the call lasted less than fifty seconds.” 

Tony ran a stressful hand through his hair. “Pinpoint a general area the call came from. It came to your centre, not in Queens or Manhattan. Here. Jacksonville, New York. Trace it.” 

“Mr. Stark, when the call came in, I promise you we did everything we could to trace it. But unless they call again, we can’t do anything.” 

“Who answered the call?” Tony demanded to know. 

“Um… I did, sir.” 

Tony looked towards the small voice. It was a woman, no older than Harley. He walked up to her. “Did you hear anything else? Anything? That’s my son on that recording and I have to find him. So please help me.” 

She couldn’t meet Tony’s eyes. “I don’t know, sir. It was clearly a child, they sounded… scared. Maybe a bit delirious. They mumbled a lot. Um… that’s all.” 

“I can understand him because he’s my kid.” He turned back around to look at Natasha for help. 

“Is there any way you can guess where the call came from? Give us a radius.” 

“Okay. Well… I’d say Ithaca to… FingerLakes. But it’s almost impossible to say. It could be anywhere, really. If it is your son, the phone he’s calling on could have come from anywhere. He could have a cell signal that bounced off towers.” 

“But that still means he’s close, right?” Tony asked desperately, watching a few of the workers exchange look’s between one another. 

“In theory, yes. But-” 

Tony didn’t need to hear anymore. He grabbed the CD and started racing out of the building with Natasha in tow. 

Of course Tony wouldn’t find Peter until later the next day, but by then, the damage had already been done.