Work Text:
October 18th 2023 - Upstate New York - Tony Stark's Memorial
Sam nudged Bucky's hand and pointed carefully across the sea of bleak faces.
"That's the kid." He whispered, pointing at the teenage boy stood towards the front of Tony Stark's funeral.
Although they both knew Stark had treated him as somewhat of a protege, neither Pepper nor Happy seemed to acknowledge him which had forced Bucky to push his clenched fists into his leather jacket to give him some way to dispel his anger. Peter had been talking to another boy around the same age, giving that same sad smile appropriate for funerals, so hopefully he was doing okay.
"How old is he? Seventeen, eighteen?"
"Sixteen, apparently."
One of the aliens, the Guardians, turned and shushed them emphatically. Sam rolled his eyes.
"Jesus, that's worse than I thought."
"Shh it is a sad moment." The woman, alien, guardian, said again and Bucky motioned with his head for them to leave.
It didn't take long for the other mourners to start leaving, straggling about the cabin and woodland wondering what to do next. But Sam and Bucky were on a mission of their own.
"There —" It was Bucky's turn to point, spotting the Parker kid on his own for the first time all day, "hey, kid!" He shouted, perhaps louder than he'd intended for a funeral but decided that he didn't actually like Tony anyway, and therefore didn't give a shit as long as he managed to speak to Parker.
He turned and pointed at himself, his suit was a little too big, his tie wasn't quite right, everything was a little off about him.
"Yeah you kid, c'mere."
Parker jogged over, a confused expression on his open face. "Mr Barnes? And, Mr Wilson, right?"
"I think there's some military titles missing there," Sam teased and Bucky nudged him, Parker looked like he was going to throw up.
"Sorry, sir."
"Sam's just yankin' your chain, kid, ignore him. We wanted to make sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm great," he answered, over enthusiastic and Bucky stared at him blankly. "I mean, not great, I'm at a funeral, and Mr Stark is gone and I guess so is my internship. It wasn't a real internship but, do you think they'll let me keep the suit?"
Bucky rubs a hand down his face and turned to Sam.
"This the internship that has you taken on international flights to fight with adults? Maybe that's no bad thing."
"I think what Bucky's trying to ask is, are you okay, in life. We're worried about you doing the whole superhero thing when you should be at school."
"I go to school Mr Wilson, sir."
"That's good. You got someone at home to help you out? Keep you off the superhero thing?"
"My Aunt May, I guess, but I don't want to give up being a superhero, do I have to give that up?"
Bucky feels cold, he doesn't want to take anything from the poor kid but he can't condone putting himself in harms way at such a young age. He has no power here, no one really knows him and yet there's this huge question hanging between the three of them. Panicking he turns to Sam who looks equally at a loss.
"Look, Peter, we can't stop you doing anything at all. But you have your whole life ahead of you just — be careful, okay? Maybe stay away from this lot." He gestures at the various superheroes still milling around. Peter opens his mouth to complain but Sam holds up his hand. "They've not exactly had your safety in mind so far. You're a smart kid, go to school, go to college, do great things — but not in Spandex."
Peter turns to Bucky, "Mr Barnes you must know I have to, you went to war, you fought in Wakanda." His eyes wide, desperate, and it reminds Bucky so much of Steve, being so keen to sign his life away.
"I'm gonna tell you a secret, kid. Something I kept from Steve and something the government has kept secret since—"
Sam rolled his eyes at Bucky's theatrics. The man never told anyone anything.
"I'm no hero. I was drafted. I was drafted in the forties, I joined the Howlies for Steve, I fought in Wakanda because I was there. I'm gonna walk away from this funeral, go home, and walk away from fighting too. I've still got some life left and I want to enjoy it. You have your entire life ahead of you, get started on enjoying it as soon as you can."
Bucky claps him on the shoulder twice and wanders off to speak to Steve.
Stunned, Sam and Peter lapse into silence.
"Well, I genuinely didn't know that. Here —" Sam pulled a napkin from his pocket with two phone numbers scrolled on. "That's our numbers, you need something, call. Bucky's in Brooklyn so he can get to you quicker, but he's… well maybe less reliable."
Peter stuffed the napkin into the top pocket of his jacket and watched as Sam jogged to catch up with Steve and Bucky.
February 2025 - YMCA, Midtown Manhattan, New York
Buckys just finished packing up gym equipment, half in his own head thinking about dinner, the next time he sees Peter. It feels like a lifetime since he'd bumped into the kid, there'd been a moment when he thought he saw him outside the theatre at Christmas. There was a matinee of Rogers the Musical that Bucky had reluctantly attended. But neither the teenager nor Bucky had said anything to each other.
Now he was watching him from the other side of the glass at the YMCA in Manhatten. Bucky was warm, his body not exactly aching, thanks to the serum, but he was tired in the way that let him know he'd had a good day, a worthy day.
He'd been teaching fitness classes for children at various YMCA's across the city, he had one a week at each centre and had found it better for his soul than any amount of terrible therapy the government could find. He helped what the woman who ran the front desk called "at risk youth" but in his day they'd have just been him and Steve, scuffing around after dark and getting into trouble.
Parker is reading a sign that had been posted earlier in the day about safety shelters for when it was cold. Why would he need that? He'd gone back to his friendly neighbourhood schtick after that showdown on the statue, or so Bucky assumed, he hadn't seen anything in the press.
Bucky puts a few more weights away. Parker was still there.
Some of the boyish quality he had before is gone, he's a little taller, more gaunt, puberty comes for everyone in the end and he must be what, eighteen now? It didn't explain how dirty his clothes looked though.
Parker moves away and Bucky sees the way his feet move awkwardly. His shoes are too small. He knows that walk well enough himself and had seen the opposite in Steve when he took on his hand-me-downs.
Without thinking Bucky moves, letting the door close behind him as he chases Parker down.
"Hey, kid, hey!" He shouts and people turn and stare. But the boy doesn't turn round.
"Parker!"
Nothing. God what is his first name?
"Peter! Wait!" The crowd thins slightly and Bucky takes his chance, sprinting.
"Woah, hey I haven't got anything on me worth stealing," Peter fights back against Bucky's arm on his shoulder. A quiet strength that hides his superhuman ability.
"I know you heard me kid, what's going on." Bucky spins him around and watches as Peter's face runs a full gamut of emotions.
"Mr Barnes. You recognise me?"
"Course I do kid, just wanted to catch up, let's go get a coffee."
Bucky can smell too much laundry detergent and black mould on the kid, he has his head above water, but he certainly isn't with that aunt anymore. He'd seen her once. There's no way she'd let him out like this.
"I have a place round the corner," Peter says, a little awkward, a little stilted, "I can't really afford coffee out right now, " he looks longingly at a bakery across the street though.
"I'm hungry, shall we grab something and head to yours? My treat?"
"I —" the kid gives another longing look and Bucky watches the shadow of a teenage girl pass by the window.
"Isn't that your girlfriend? Awh kid, did you break up?"
"Mr Barnes, how do you recognise me?"
"You're funny, c'mon I'll go in, what do you want?"
Bucky meets Peter again outside the bakery, a cardboard tray with two hot coffee cups in one hand and a bag of fresh doughnuts in the other.
Peter lives round the corner and Bucky is horrified to find the door to the building swinging open. He says nothing though.
Peter's apartment is as mouldy as Bucky expected and even more sparse than his own. At least he had painted walls and a TV, the kid has almost nothing at all.
There was a sticky vinyl topped table and a single chair as well as a mattress with a blanket and pillow on. Peter took the mattress and left Bucky the fold out chair.
"Peter, what happened to your room with your aunt?" Bucky asks, this is no time for being gentle, the kid is clearly suffering here.
"Well —" he shoves a whole doughnut in his mouth, "thas jus' it. She died."
"Oh, Peter, I'm really sorry kid,
"Yeah —"
He takes another doughnut, eating this one a little slower.
"Outside, you asked how I recognised you, I guess you've had a rough time, but we met a few times before. If you needed me, you could've called. I know Sam says I'm too grumpy and — well I am a bit I guess. But I'm sorry if that made you think it was just lip service."
"Ah, no, it's not that. I mean, you are grumpy, Mr Barnes, but I —uh — I mean. There was this whole thing with Doctor Strange and there were these two other Spidermans, Spidermen? I'm not sure."
"Yeah, I saw that, you did good." Bucky swigged his coffee, hadn't everyone seen that?
"Doctor Strange made it so everyone forgot me. After my Aunt May died I had no where to go, she would've forgotten me anyway. Like MJ and Ned."
"MJ? Ah the girl in the coffee shop." She'd been sweet, in a caustic kind of way, but he supposed opposites often attract.
"Yeah, everyone forgot me. You should've forgotten me."
"That explains the shitty apartment, thought you were at MIT."
"Nope. But why do you remember me? Were you on the moon with Captain America?"
"Was I what? No? He's not on the moon." Bucky was thoroughly confused now. Forgetting spells and Steve on the moon, had he wandered into an alternative reality? He needed to stop listening to sci-fi audiobooks before bed it was clearly messing with his imagination.
"Oh, just 'cause everyone else forgot me but not you, you said my name and everything, really freaked me out, I'm glad though because I do kinda miss talking to people and stuff."
"I can understand that. I've had my mind messed with so much, maybe it didn't compare."
"Like Westley in The Princess Bride." Peter nodded sagely.
Like who in what?
"Sure." Bucky finished his coffee and scanned the apartment again. "Is this…"
"Hmmm." Peter nodded and they sat in awkward silence while he ate the last doughnut painfully slowly and eyed the half left on Bucky's napkin.
"Go ahead." He passed it over. "Your landlord, what kind of lease did he give you?"
"Month to month, he lives downstairs. I've gotta pay him in advance though or he gets sorta mean."
"And you have a backpack or a duffle or something?"
"Uh…yeah."
"Great. Pack it. I'll meet you downstairs."
"Where we going?"
"I've got a room at mine, I'm not leaving you here."
Bucky met him by the front door, he stubbed out his cigarette, a bad habit he needed to kick, and handed over an envelope.
"There's this month's rent back, he said you could keep it." After some persuading, Bucky thought, but the kid didn't need to know that.
"Oh that was nice of him."
"Sure. Let's go home, you can stay as long as you want."
"Thanks, Mr Barnes "
"Call me Bucky."
"Thanks… Mr Bucky "
Bucky looked at him from the side of his eye and Peter was laughing. Bucky rolled his eyes and allowed himself a half-smile.
It takes a while for the two men to find their feet living together, especially as Bucky's flat only has the one bedroom. He's not exactly been sleeping in there though, preferring to sleep on the sofa or, more frequently, the floor while the TV plays softly in the background.
For a day or two they dance around each other, Peter stays in his room, sparse as it is, putting up a few posters. Bucky tries not to have the TV on too loud.
It's very late when Peter sneaks out of his room to find Bucky with his back to the couch, blankets over his legs, watching Star Wars.
"You okay, kid?" Bucky asks, half awake and half asleep. He feels ready, at any rate, to stop the boy from trying to go off and do any Spidermanning, friendly, neighbourhood or otherwise.
"Couldn't sleep I guess."
"Sorry, I can turn the TV down." Bucky clicks the remote a few times and the sound of a ghost asking some guy to help her gets quieter.
"It's okay, is that Star Wars?"
Peter drops onto the couch and tucks his legs up in the way that makes Bucky's joints hurt just looking at him.
"Uh — yeah, I think?"
"I love Star Wars, they were showing it at this indie cinema when I was a kid, re-runs, and May took me over and over. Ned and I were making a Death Star and —"
It's the most words they've really said to each other in a week and Bucky, despite his tiredness, despite his worry this was a terrible idea, wants the kid to finish his thought.
"Go on."
"We were building a Death Star, when it all went…wrong. We never finished it I guess."
Peter goes quiet again. Bucky hates to admit it, but he's enjoy the Star Wars movie, even if he has no clue what that has to do with Peter making a star for death.
By the end of the film they're both still very much awake and Peter encourages Bucky to put the next one on while he digs around for snacks in the kitchen.
It might be 4am but they're making progress, the kid isn't really a kid, he's nineteen. At nineteen Steve's parents were dead, his dad was dead too, they basically lived together when they weren't helping his Ma with baby Becca.
He's not going to tell him he has to go to bed.
"You know," Bucky starts before he can help himself, "I used to love going to the cinema with Steve. Before the war. We didn't really get a chance to go when I was back. But we used to go all the time, sometimes we'd have to sneak in or we'd pay once and hang around and wait for them to show something else."
Peter grins, flopping his head onto the arm of the couch and crunching his popcorn.
"What did you watch?"
"All sorts, I think they'd be terrible by today's standards. Would you believe Steve liked detective films? The 39 Steps, The Maltese Falcon, mysteries. Honestly, I really enjoyed The Wizard of Oz."
Peter stifles a laugh, he can't imagine Bucky, black t-shirts, grumpy, angry, Bucky, enjoying red shiny shoes and silly songs.
"The Wizard of Oz?"
"Yeah!" Bucky says, a little defensive but with a laugh. "I like that they found each other, along the way. They came from all these different places, they needed different things, but they worked together. Steve and I were like that for a bit, we found each other —" He paused, vitriol rising and then waning as he took a deep breath, "— I guess maybe not as much as I thought. I was raised that family was everything and I haven't exactly got buckets of it going spare, I guess I like the idea of finding your people."
Peter lays back and stares at the nicotine stained ceiling.
"I guess. Star Wars is a bit like that too, Han and Chewie, they find each other, and they all team up. They call it Found Family now."
"Found family?" Bucky rolls it around in his brain, he likes it, it's nice, still a family, still close just — not blood related.
They stay up too late and sleep in. Peter goes to bed at a good time the next night, which Bucky is glad for, he doesn't want to have to start setting curfews, but they are trying to get him to settle back into mainstream school and get his GED. Bucky'll be damned if the kid's brain goes to waste because of some stupid paperwork.
So he gets up early, has breakfast ready and a few dollars for lunch, "sorry," he mumbles, "I don't know how much this stuff costs now, just used ta make Becca a roll, but she was five. Just — make sure ya eat okay." He blushes and turns away to drink his coffee.
"Thanks, Bucky," Peter is so overcome he rushes out too, unsure of what this is or what to expect from Bucky one moment to the next. But he has to admit he's shocked how gentle and careful he is with his feelings.
He made sure Peter had clean clothes the night before, a bag for his books, pencils and pens he'd obviously collected from various shops around the neighbourhood.
So Peter will make the most of that, he's going to get his GED, get his life back together and go to college.
He's going to make May proud, he's going to make Bucky proud too.
April 2025 - Mostly the I95 Southbound, Brooklyn to Delaroix
Once the Flagsmashers have gone back underground Bucky doesn't want to waste time hanging around in Brooklyn. He managed to get the kid back into a senior class at a local high school and he's doing well, but he's sad and out of place, even if he does look rosier now he eats three square meals a day.
Bucky sort of likes having him around as well, as much as he hates to admit it. Neither of them have to pretend to be anything but weird, picking up the fridge to sweep under it, while the kid picks up litter from the table with his webs. They form a nice routine but they're both somewhat off kilter .
This isn't the Brooklyn that Bucky knows, it louder but less kind, he doesn't know anyone and even the same streets feel different . Peter is out of place without his friends, his usual haunts. He misses Queens despite it's close proximity. The fact his old life is only a train ride away almost makes it worse somehow.
Bucky returns from a trip to Delacroix with a plan. Peters behaved while he was gone, the flat in good order and his homework done as usual.
"End of the term," Bucky says, sitting on the fire escape with the one cigarette he's allowing himself today, "let's move."
"Where'd ya wanna move to?" Peter's leafing through an old comic, mostly upside down on the couch.
"Louisiana."
"What?"
Peter sits up, comic discarded over the Lego he's currently working on, a Death Star? Bucky isn't sure. It's not that he doesn't like Lego, it's actually very relaxing, or Star Wars, which he really enjoyed when Peter made him watch it, it's just that there's so much to know now and he can't be bothered to retain all of the information.
"I don't think you're happy here. I know I'm not happy. Let's move, start fresh. I got Sam caught up on stuff while I was there, he meant it too, calling him I mean. Even if he doesn't remember you now."
Peter looks at Bucky pointedly.
"I explained it all. He gets it, don't worry about it." Bucky says confidently, tapping the ash from his cigarette and trying hard not to think about the one he'll have tomorrow.
In the end they don't wait for the end of term. Sam turns up with a U-Haul and his beat up old truck just three weeks later and they're on the road before any of them can really comprehend what that's going to entail. Even if all they do is stop to pee it'd take them a full day constantly driving and Bucky isn't really one to sit still. Neither is Peter, his fingers tapping along the edge of the window.
Peter barely makes it out of the state before he's bored.
Sam is regretting getting the U-Haul for just a few boxes, it's slowing them down.
By the time they hit the interstate it's rush hour, traffic bumper to bumper and Bucky is wondering why he left the quiet darkness of his little flat.
Then it gets dark outside the car too, but at least Peter drifts off to sleep in the back, headphones on over his hoodie. Stark Industries. It makes Bucky sick but he says nothing and turns to Sam instead, his profile lit by cars passing on the other side of the road.
"Thanks," he mumbles, popping another stick of nicotine gum. Sam made him promise not to smoke in his new car but the gum does nothing, it's not the nicotine, it's the habit. the feeling. He wants to stare at the city while smoke curls away into the night, he wants to contribute to the hubub all around him. Gum is just gross.
"Course, Buck," Sam gives him a half smile, half seen in the dark.
"I know I haven't been the best at keeping in touch again."
Bucky chews the gum until the lacklustre mint flavour is gone, and then balls it up back into its own packet.
"Hey, look, you adopted a whole fuckin' radioactive kid, you've been busy man, don't worry about it."
"I guess I did, I guess we both did now."
"Shit, yeah, this place I got, it's only two bedrooms." Sam rubs his hand on the back of his head, "it was before we talked about him, we can move somewhere else in six months I guess, when the lease is up."
Bucky looked at Sam's profile again, the slope of his nose, his chin, the pout of his lips. At least they were going home, even if home might feel a bit small.
"We could share, for a bit — give the kid his space."
"Bunk beds." Sam laughed.
"Yeah, bunk beds."
They stop just after midnight, somewhere in Virginia. Christianstown, or burg or ville or something.Peter wakes up while Bucky fills up the tank and Sam goes inside to pay.
"Y'alright back there?"
"Bit hungry."
Peter gets out to stretch his legs and use the bathroom, taking the long way around the small service area to get the blood moving in his legs again. The fluorescent lights are flickering and, out here, there are no tall buildings, hardly any trees, just power lines. It makes him feel vulnerable. He checks over his shoulder to find Sam watching quietly from the door of the gas station.
When Peter waves, he smiles and waves too. It's strange with Sam, Peter knows him, though not well, but just like everyone else Sam has absolutely no recollection of him. They can retell the same story about getting food after the Battle for Earth, they can talk about how weird it was to be blipped and come back, but Sam doesn't remember Peter being there at all.
Across the road a huge golden M flickers, there are still lights on inside, though mostly just in the drive through which Peter agrees is safer at this time of night. A weird feeling swoops through his stomach as he recalls the deli on the corner of his aunt May's apartment, how he kept telling them to close early and they refused.
He joins Sam at the gas station.
"Can we get McDonalds? I'm so hungry." He flops about dramatically for emphasis.
"No, that shit's terrible for you, it's full of salt. I packed us some healthy snacks, go look in the cooler." Sam is all about being healthy, Peter's learning, being Captain America means he's incredibly fit but he's also in the public eye a lot and he likes to make a show of 'healthy choices', even in empty gas stations in the middle of the night, apparently.
Peter and Bucky enjoyed watching him on Seaseme Street recently, although Sam doesn't enjoy being teased with the Cookie Monster voice.
"Bucky! Can we get McDonalds?"
Peter runs across the empty parking lot leaving Sam shaking his head. He likes the kid, he's energetic and positive, but he has terrible taste in food.
"What?"Bucky looks up from the paper map he's reading and Sam rolls his eyes affectionately, there's a blue pencil mark carefully drawn down the full length of the route with post it notes of more specific directions arranged neatly down the side.
Sam'd make fun of him if it wasn't so endearing.
"McDonalds? Can I get some fries and…maybe a Big Mac? Ohh do you think they have the McRib?!"
"I don't think it matters because we're not going." Bucky said with a small smile.
Peter groaned.
"I'm so hungry." He flopped into the backseat and opened the cooler. "All there is is carrot sticks. I'm a growing boy, I need real food."
Sam slides into the passenger seat while Bucky fiddled with the settings on the drivers side.
"Aren't you nineteen?" Sam turns in his seat to look at the young man, he hadn't grown an inch since he last saw him over Christmas, although Bucky told him he is almost foot taller than when they met him at Tony's funeral.
"Please, please can we get McDonalds."
With a sigh Bucky pulls the truck round towards McDonalds.
"Yes!" Peter celebrates in the back, practically bouncing in his seat.
"Welcome to McDonalds, Christiansburg, can I take your order?" The voice of the tired teenager crackles through the speaker while Peter continues to dance around in the backseat.
Sam looks over at Bucky, half a smile teasing the corner of his mouth.
"Can I get a coffee, thanks."
"Any milk, creamer or sugar?"
"No thanks."
"Anything else?"
Bucky pauses and Sam watches Peter go through every stage of grief when Bucky says no and pulls foward to pay.
"Bucky!? No!"
"I might've wanted a coffee too ya know?" Sam grouches, but Bucky can see him smiling so he doesn't worry too much.
With his hot coffee in one hand he steers back out onto the road, "I thought there was too much salt in it." Bucky counters, taking a scalding sip while Sam laughs.
May to August 2025 - Delacroix, Louisiana
In the end, Sam moves back in with Sarah for a while to give Bucky and Peter space in the little house up the road. It really is little.
Sam's meagre back pay from his time Avenging and Bucky's scrapped together payments from the government have been enough to keep them afloat for now, but it's getting worse.
They both throw themselves into the Paul and Darlene, the only hope the entire Wilson, Barnes and now Parker family have of staying afloat.
But Peter is enjoying it never the less. He rides the bus with AJ and Cass to the bigger town up the road and watches as they go in together before the bus trundles on to the high school.
After school the boys meet him on the corner and he walks them back to the high school and the sports field for their extra curriculars. It's an odd responsibility he isn't used to, but he doesn't dislike it. He knows it saves the new adults in his life, Bucky, Sam, Sarah, from travelling out here. Plus, he's never had siblings before, or cousins, so he wants to enjoy it. He does enjoy it. Aj and Cass are fun and sweet, they like games and don't break apart his lego, they stare in amazement when he builds things and they share chocolate on the way home on a Friday.
It was always just him and May before, so he hadn't been sure what it'd be like, dropped into this ready made family.
He was the baby, the kid, then he was Spiderman and then…then he was alone.
The thought of her, of Queens, of home, still sits inside of him, sometimes it's a heavy thought that makes him feel sick like he's eaten too much of May's banana bread. Sometimes it feels light, it's the buoyancy he needs to work his way back to himself. And despite missing his home, he's glad they left. It's not really Queens he misses, just like he knows it's not Brooklyn that Bucky gets sad about.
It's May, Ned and MJ. It's Steve and people. Love and friendships and family.
In the night, he can hear Sam and Bucky talking on the porch and he knows Sam has people he misses too, his brother and Riley. Peter knows Riley from a singular picture that, despite Sam not sleeping at the house, is kept on the mantel next to the pictures of May and Steve. He's in a flight suit like Sam's old one and he's smiling. If Sam likes him, he must've been a nice guy, because for all Sam's smiles he doesn't suffer fools and he doesn't lie about his feelings.
He knows because this is often what Sam's talking about with Bucky, feelings. But Peter sticks his headphones on and works on his suit and tries to acclimatise to the sticky Louisiana heat instead.
Sam takes Peter fishing on the weekend, he puts a six pack of beer in the cooler, despite Sarah tutting, and though he says Bucky's bad luck and the fish hate him, he invites him along anyway.
They don't take the Paul and Darlene, despite its new paint job and engine, but a smaller boat with an outboard motor that Sam skillfully skims out over the water.
He doesn't say anything until he's stopped the boat and threaded bait onto two fishing rods. Bucky ignores the fishing aspect entirely, pulls a battered paperback from his jacket pocket and nudges his sunglasses from the top of his head to perch on the end of his nose. Instinctively he reaches for the crumpled packet of cigarettes he's kept in his jeans pocket since Peter has known him, but pulls out a stick of nicotine gum instead.
Peter looks at the neat wires and hooks, the bait box with feathered barbs and the tub of live worms and his stomach turns a little.
"Sam?"
"Yeah kid?"
"Do I have to kill a fish?"
Sam laughs from deep in his chest, leaning back against the low side of the boat, "nah, fishing isn't always about catching anthin', we're just here to spend some quality time." His smile is still there, albeit softer. "Beer?"
"Is this a trick?"
"Damn, your Aunt May's done a number on you hasn't she, it's a beer, between men, take it." Sam hands over the cold bottle and flicks the cap off his own before bumping them together, "cheers."
Peter sips his slowly. He's sure most boys his age have had a beer, but between school and the internship and then being a friendly neighbourhood Spiderman, he never really made it to any parties.
The beer is sour and he pulls a face.
"I've got Root Beer if you'd rather have that?" Bucky says, without really looking up, and Sam mutters something about 'sasparilla in glass bottles'.
Sam's watching Peter's twisted face, but there's no judgement or mirth, he nods his head at the cooler and Peter nods and takes a root beer instead.
"Ya know, when I was nineteen, I used to take my Dad's car, that's Paul, from the boat -"
Peter nods in acknowledgement, wondering when Sam's going to bother telling him how to put his fishing line in the water.
"I'd take his car and drive out to parties in New Orleans. My Mama, that's Darlene -"
Peter knows, but he also knows Sam likes to talk about his family, so he says nothing.
"Sarah would tell on me every god damn time," he shook his head, "still went though. Broke their hearts really. See, my Dad used to live in New York too."
Peter perked up, "really, where?"
"Harlem, he was a preacher there for a while and then he met Mama and they came down here for a better life. The boat, the house, it was meant to be a fresh start. Dad — he followed me one night into the city. He waited outside to make sure I was okay and." Sam stopped abruptly, looking across the water.
It was a beautiful day, the view out to Grande Isle, the sparkling sea. Peter saw tears slide down Sam's face.
"Hey, Sam are you okay? Mr Wilson?"
"I need to tell you this, okay kid, so you know you're not alone." Sam took Peter's hand, "my Daddy, he tried to break up this fight, saw someone getting mugged and he intervened, he taught me so much about standing up for people, he's why I joined up I guess, but —"
"Sam —" Peter swallowed hard, tears welling in his own eyes.
"He died, he bled out from stab wounds before we made it to the hospital. The kid, the other victim he, lived, he was fine, but my Daddy—"
Peter moved uncertainly across the boat and sat beside Sam, leaning against his arm.
"I'm really sorry, Sam." He didn't know what else to say and Sam didn't seem to know either which was even more disconcerting. "My Aunt May —" tears immediately welled in Peter's eyes and he panicked, turning away.
"It's okay, kid, that's why we're out here. Let it out."
"She died because of me. Because of what I thought was right and —"
"No, look, I came out here to tell you, but not so we could apportion the blame, okay. None of it was our fault, the world is just a really shitty place." Sam clasped Peter's shoulder and their bloodshot eyes met. "You sure you don't want that beer?"
Peter laughed, "I'm sure."
"Okay. Okay then. Now. Bucky said you remember a bunch of stuff I don't, tell me everything, from the top, especially the bit where you kicked Bucky's ass." Sam's smile was creeping back and, to his surprise, so was Peter's.
"We don't need to hear that," Bucky grouches, slugging back his beer. "Stark dragged the kid to Germany, made him fight us — you did good, Pete."
Bucky squeezes Peter's shoulder in a way that the younger man has come to interpret as a hug. That was about as affectionate as Bucky ever got, but he appreciated it anyway.
"He did what?!" Sam's shout echoes on the still water, "how old were you?"
"Fifteen, maybe…maybe fourteen. I get mixed up now, you know, after we were all —" Peter waggles his fingers. Sam and Bucky do know, it's not rare to meet someone who was dusted — snapped. But it's rare for so many people to be together all at once. Sam's heard from Joaquin what it was like, when everyone left. The fear, the confusion, the global grief.
It wasn't a great deal of fun coming back either.
"Did Stark do anything for you? After?" Sam snaps open a bag of chips and holds them out to Peter, deliberately keeping them just too far away from Bucky.
"I got my suit."
"Anything useful, like college." Bucky asks and Sam finds himself surprised at the practicality.
"Well, no, I guess I thought I'd be Spiderman."
"Gotta tell ya', superhero-ing…it doesn't pay well." Sam laughs, but it's a laugh filled with the stress and worry that comes with vanishing when you were supposed to be your family's support. The fear that the bank won't come through and you risked your life to save everyone, yet got nothing in return. The kind of hollow laugh that speaks of self-sacrifice and suffering with nothing but your own pride to show for it.
"Did Stark not pay you guys for being Avengers?" Peter asks.
"I wasn't an Avenger, I was a liability." Bucky laughs, but his laugh is hollow too. "I got a bit of money from the government, POW back pay, a little liable payout from the press. Not as much as Steve got, obviously."
"I took a salary when I worked with Stark, but after Germany, I was on the run and had nothing. Then when I was snapped, the bank assumed I'd died. When I came back, my accounts were all closed. Sarah used her inheritance, my savings, to help keep everything afloat. But that's all gone now."
The three of them sit in the knowledge that nothing ever quite works out in a way that's fair.
"I met these guys once, used to clean up after the Avengers, sell stuff on for scrap or filter out the things that were still usable. Stark came in one day, took over. Stark Industries got paid to save the day, then they got paid again to clear it up. Since the funeral — well. I've learnt a lot. None of it seems fair anymore."
Sam wraps an arm around Peter's shoulders and Bucky squeezes his arm again, "look, kid, there's a reason I invited you to live with me. Why I wanted to move here to be closer to Sam. Sometimes life isn't fair and we don't get dealt the cards we think we deserve or that we've earnt. But we do get to work on the rest."
"When life gives you lemons." Peter whispers.
"Right." Bucky gives him a shake. "Enough of that, I want to see how bad Sam really is at fishing. Bucky grins and Sam smiles back, toothy and genuine. Peter can't help it, before he knows what's happening, he's smiling too.
September 2025 - Delacroix, Louisiana
The fall is cooler in Delacroix, not that Peter or Bucky really notice having still not acclimatised to the heat in the first place.
For Peter the summer has gone too quickly, he spent most of his break either in the little house perfecting his new suit design, at Sarah's borrowing her old treadle sewing machine, or at the school's Summer Science Club stealing supplies while he still could.
Bucky noticed the second day he got home, "just don't let anyone else catch you, okay?" He hadn't even looked up from his newspaper, the only person Peter had ever known who read it in paper form and not on their phone. He drove out every day to a gas station to buy it and apparently enjoyed every moment of the inconvinence.
"Sure, Buck." He'd mumbled.
Now it was September, school was really, truly, over this time. Peter's graduation picture in pride of place on the mantel piece. And his whole life ahead of him.
He hadn't been able to apply for college last year, everything was to up in the air. But now, bored, upside down on the sofa, Peter was thinking…maybe, it could be a possibility?
Sam was over again, he was over even more than usual. Sitting closer to Bucky and moving his hand out of the way while they looked at the same pages in the tatty manual they were reading.
"Uh - guys?"
"Yeah, kid." Bucky doesn't look up from the old manual. Something for an old car he'd found in a junk yard.
"I was just thinking about college," he says it tentatively, as if he's asking them to send him to the moon. It does feel a lot like that's what he's asking for. Support, travel, money. It's a lot to ask when they've already done so much. Bucky had given him a home in Brooklyn, Sam had invited him into his family in Delacroix. He had people now, security.
Sam closed the book and looked over at Bucky, smiling softly. "Yeah? What were you thinking about?"
April 2026 - Delacroix, Louisiana
Peter paces nervously in front of the fireplace. Sarah had text Sam only ten minutes earlier to say that she'd seen Joe, the mailman, heading towards their house. Which meant his college letter was potentially only a few stops away.
"What if I don't get in?" Peter stretches nervously, hanging one handed from the wooden beam Bucky had spent so long reinforcing.
"Is this kid for real?" Sam laughs, looking at Bucky over the kitchen counter. They were still enjoying a slow breakfast, if Peter wasn't mistaken Sam must have stayed over because he definitely wasn't as put together as he normally was when he'd had time to shower and get ready at Sarah's.
Bucky says nothing, as usual, sipping his coffee, inclining his head out of the window. The dust cloud that normally accompanied the mailman had been damped down by the rain the night before, puddles spreading across the dirt drive and onto the lawn.
"Oh my —, Joseph is here, what if my letter's here, oh my goddd." Peter lets go of the beam, circling the room.
"Go out there," Sam urges, opening the front door to their surprised mailman.
"Oh, hi Sam, Bucky —" he waves over Sam's shoulder and Bucky waves back, "Mr Parker, there's something in here looks very official." He pulls out a large A4 envelope and hands it over with a flourish.
Peter stares at the red fleur-de-lis, his hands shaking.
"C'mon kid, what're you waiting for? We all know you got in!" Bucky shakes Peter's shoulder good naturedly.
"What if…"
"Seriously, you're gonna what if us? Open the envelope!" Sam watches over Peter's other shoulder, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
With a sigh Peter rips the top and tips the letter out, muttering as he reads.
"I did it! I got in!" Peter throws his hands up in the air while Sam and Bucky wrap theirs around his shoulders, squeezing him between them.
"Well done, Parker." Joe smiles, pulling the door closed behind him.
Sam and Bucky spend most of the day excitedly looking up the accommodation, advising him on the best way to make Ramen (with extra hot sauce, Sam, or leaving it to go extra thick, Bucky). By the time dinner rolls around they're grateful for a call from Sarah saying she's put on a special spread and they should come over in an hour if they want to make sure Cass and AJ don't eat it all.
The boys are disappointed to learn that their new cousin is leaving, but with promises of a visit at Christmas and lots of weekends gaming together they finally relent and admit they're proud of him.
It's Bucky who starts the first toast, raising his bottle of beer up, "to Peter, smartest ki— teenager — man, I know, never had a little brother before, but I'm glad I found you kid and I'm proud of you."
Peter smiles warmly up at his adopted older brother who, if he's being really honest, feels like the father he never knew. Bucky takes him out shooting when Sam's out of town. He let's him drink a beer or two on the weekend now that he's used to the taste and, when he's out of line, he sits him down and tells him. He's learnt a lot from Bucky, who encouraged him to look out for AJ and Cas when they first moved, knowing he'd find it rewarding. He also knows how to disassemble, clean and reassemble Bucky's SIG Sauer which he's sure will come in just as useful at some point.
Sam goes next and Peter can see how warm his smile is too, though it's initially aimed at Bucky and not at him. When Sam turns his attention on you, you know it. "Peter, when Bucky first called me and told me this crazy story about Doctor Strange and some kid from Queens I thought he was just trying to find a reason for never texting me back —"
Bucky huffs moodily beside him, but Sam puts a hand on his shoulder and carries on. Peter ignores the way Sam's fingers dig gently into the already creased material of Bucky's one smart shirt.
"— but when the memories started to come back, and you moved down here, it all came flooding back and I'll be forever grateful to you, Peter, for freeing me from that. I'm proud of you too, Pete, you've put an awful lot aside and worked through so much to get here. It can't be easy to up sticks and start new in a place you've never been, but we're so happy you did. I hope you know you're part of the family forever, and there'll always be a place for you here."
Sam reaches across the table and taps his wine glass against Peter's, the spritizer fizzing back in response, and Peter raises his face up to Sam's. Sometimes it's hard to look him in the eye, he's just so earnest, but that's part of what makes him such a great man. Peter's learnt a lot from him too, the way he supports his family even when he has the whole world on his shoulders. Sam helped him work through his trauma, slowly, carefully, and researched all sorts of therapists for him. He didn't treat him with kid gloves, but he does worry about his health. He taught him to fish and cook and even let him steer the boat a few times to disastrous effect. And Sam let Peter into his family, when he didn't have to share a single moment, he opened his arms and his life and let him in.
Peter stands from the table, cutlery clattering, and runs around to Sam and Bucky. Instinctively Sam opens his arms, wrapping the young man up in a bear hug, just to feel the weight of Bucky behind him too, circling them both.
"Couldn't be prouder, Kiddo." Bucky mumbles, ruffling his hair. "Couldn't be any prouder."