Theirs
“Well, that was fun,” Mr. Loki said, while wiping blood from his face.
“Lemme help with that, Doll,” the Winter Soldier stalked closer to the God of Mischief and pulled him down into a filthy kiss.
“James!” Mr. Loki swatted his lover once they broke apart. “You’re not helping, you’re just making more of a bloody mess.”
The Soldier grinned, showing blood-stained teeth, “You care just as little as I do, Doll.”
Mr. Loki huffed.
Peter watched the Soldier kiss the Trickster once more before his hands trailed down to rest at Mr. Loki’s waist, the Trickster’s own were flung about Mr. Barnes’ neck.
“We did it,” Mr. Barnes whispered against Mr. Loki’s lips, “she’s ours.”
“We’ll be kings.”
“Bucky,” Mr. America said heartbroken. “Th-This isn’t you. I know it isn’t. Y-You wouldn’t do this, with him of all people.”
Mr. Barnes turned around, a dangerously cold look on his face. “What’s it, Stevie? Can’t handle that you lost a fight? Or that I ain’t the guy you thought I was? The last memory of your precious past, which you can’t seem to let go, ripped to pieces.”
The answer was right there on Mr. America’s face.
“There’re a lot of things you don’t know about me, Stevie,” came Mr. Barnes’ dark reply.
“No, Buck, please,” Mr. America begged, “I know you. You wouldn—”
“James, please,” Mr. Loki rolled his eyes dramatically, “stop him from whining, it’s highly annoying.”
James threw a knife in Mr. America’s heart before Peter could so much as blink.
Shocked gasps and broken sobs escaped from the rest of The Avengers.
“He was your best friend!” Ms. Danvers cried as she jumped up. Mr. Barnes’ reply got her down on her knees rather quickly again.
“Yeah, he was, wasn’t he? And I threw a knife in his chest,” the Winter Soldier grinned when Loki pressed bloody lips to his temple. His eyes hardened and his grinned spread out in a cold, blank look. “Imagine what I’ll do to you.”
Peter watched numbly as the soon-to-be Kings of the World turned around and walked away, their many loyal legions sinking to their knees in a bow before them.
“Yasha.”
Mr. Barnes froze, Mr. Loki looked at him a little confused as to why his lover stopped. Very slowly The Winter Soldier turned around, watching Natasha with a blank look, waiting for her to continue.
“At least spare Peter, Yasha. He’s just a child.”
Peter watched as Mr. Barnes and Mr. Loki had a conversation with just their eyes.
“Will make you a deal,” Mr. Loki answered. “If you and the spider-child come with us, calmly, we’ll spare your friends a painful death.”
Mr. Barnes shrugged in agreement, as if that was a good deal. Peter was furious.
The Avengers were quiet for a few moments before Mr. Stark spoke up: “Agreed.”
Peter screamed when Ms. Natasha pulled him along towards his worst nightmare. “No! No, Mr. Stark I don’t wanna go! Mr. St—” the Widow silenced him by whispering:
“We have to go quietly, Peter. There’s no winning this.”
“Go kid!” Mr. Stark got of his knees. “I love you, Pete…” Peter’s mentor whispered to him.
Peter cried.
Two days later Peter stood amongst Mr. Loki, Ms. Nat and the newly crowned Kings’ generals. Dressed in the finest silks and velvets, tailored to perfection, he watched his family die by the hands of the Winter Soldier. With his head held high, but his eyes cast to the ground, he cried softly.
“Petey,” Mr.—no, King Barnes said gently at the feast a couple of hours later, “you have to eat something. You know what your metabolism requires of you.”
A single tear streamed down Peter’s face.
“You miss your family,” the other King stated.
Peter nodded as more tears followed the first.
“Oh, Petey,” the Bucky carefully wrapped him up in a hug.
Peter hated himself for finding comfort in the man’s tone and arms.
At the same time, Loki was filling Peter’s plate with food, “There, Peter. Eat. You’ll feel better.”
Peter couldn’t see the green glow of King Loki’s magic surrounding is food through his teary eyes. He took a bite.
Peter wiped the tears from his eyes, “Thank you.” He looked over to where Auntie Nat was talking happily with one of the Royal Generals. Peter smiled. He was alive and surrounded by a new—better—family.
Peter spent the rest of his life in ignorant bliss, like any other spoiled little Prince, until he stumbled upon a broken yellow and red mask when taking a stroll through the royal gardens some fifty years later, not knowing that much time had passed. “Mr. Stark…”
Peter’s tears glimmered in the moonlight upon the metallic mask.