Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Super-Soldier Program was Hydra’s goldpot.

For centuries, they tried to recreate and perfect the original serum developed by Dr. Abraham Erskine. Their goal was to create enhanced individuals — stronger, faster, more resilient — who could be controlled and used to serve Hydra’s interests.

In cooperation with the KGB, they developed a diluted version of the serum. It didn’t produce results on the level of a true Super-Soldier, but it was effective enough. The Black Widows were the result — highly trained operatives, physically enhanced beyond normal human limits, yet still manageable.

After the collapse of the Soviet Union, most of the Black Widows either died or disappeared. A few went into hiding, and the program was abandoned.

Under the direction of Arnim Zola, Hydra launched the Winter Soldier Program. These operatives were more than just enhanced. Through brainwashing, memory suppression, and psychological control, they were turned into living weapons with no will of their own.

Their only function was to follow orders — to assassinate, sabotage, and eliminate threats to Hydra without question.

The Winter Soldiers represented the limits of human performance. Their strength, endurance, and healing capabilities were pushed to the maximum levels the body could sustain.

For many years, they helped Hydra operate from the shadows. Rivals were removed. Key institutions were undermined. Global events were influenced without anyone knowing who was behind it.

But that changed with the emergence of superheroes.

When a Winter Soldier failed a mission for the first time, it was considered an outlier. The operative was punished and retrained.

When it happened again, stricter measures were put in place. All Winter Soldiers were re-evaluated and pushed harder in training to ensure future success.

Then one of them was killed.

Hydra, once confident in the stability of their assets, began to question everything. The Winter Soldiers — previously seen as unstoppable — had not just failed. One had been eliminated.

So what do you do if the pinnacle of humankind is not enough?

You transcend humankind!

In a secret, undocumented base, new projects were born. Scientists attempted to fuse human test subjects with electronics, making them more machine than flesh. They embedded crystals into their skin and encased their skeletons in metal to create indestructible bodies.

All of these projects failed. The subjects went insane from the pain, their bodies rejecting the enhancements, often leading to a slow death. The few who survived didn’t meet the performance requirements and were disposed of.

But one project delivered results.

It wasn’t a major initiative—few resources were allocated to it.

Despite this, Projekt Spider succeeded.

It produced an asset.

An asset capable of defeating enhanced enemies.

An asset that represents the future of Hydra.

Spider marched down a long hallway. His steps were inaudible, in contrast to the loud boots of the two guards trailing him.

Spider was in his normal state of bored professionalism, the kind he experienced most days. But deep inside him was a spark of excitement. Today, he would get his first enhanced target. He could finally fulfill the goal his superiors had set for him.

He was the Spider—Hydra’s project with the most potential and the greatest future. Or so, at least, his handlers called him.

Spider didn’t care about that. To be honest, ever since He left, Spider didn’t care about much anymore these days. Sure, he did all his training and fieldwork—but only because his handlers told him to. He just followed orders.

With a quiet hiss, the doors to the command room of the base opened and let Spider in. His handlers were already there, chatting over something. One of them had been responsible for him since Spider’s first mission. The second was His old handler, who now co-managed Spider. The last one was unknown to Spider—probably an overseer from Hydra.

Spider stood still and waited until they finished talking and turned toward him. His old handler sneered and stepped into Spider’s space.

“Ahh, Spider, how nice of you to finally join us. How is our precocious asset doing?”

“I am at full functionality and ready to assist,” replied Spider in his monotone voice.

“So formal. I remember how you would talk and talk all day when you were young. You couldn’t hold your sarcastic tongue for one moment. Where has that little tyke disappeared to, I wonder?”

Spider didn’t respond to the blatant taunt and remained still, his eyes unfocused, staring at the wall behind his handlers. He felt a small sting of pain. Of course he knew what had happened—everyone knew. He lost his former self when he was left alone. Abandoned by Him.

The unknown handler stepped closer, clearly trying to get the task over with. Spider examined him. He was nervous around Spider, but not afraid. Spider didn’t encounter that often.

“Asset, your target this time is a superpowered human. He displays enhanced strength, reflexes, and speed. Additional powers are either nonexistent or irrelevant to the mission. The target will be alone for approximately 18 minutes in an airport in Thailand tomorrow morning. You must eliminate him during this time in close combat and exit the location.”

Spider listened to the mission parameters with half an ear while opening the mission folder that was handed to him.

“Your flight will leave—”

Rage surged through Spider as he saw the photo of his target. A face he never wanted to see again. A face he hated with every fiber of his being. A face he missed every morning.

Spider sat in his room, fist clenching and unclenching. He didn’t know what to do—something he wasn’t used to. Normally, he just did what he was told.

But this… this he couldn’t do.

As much as he hated this target, he owed him a debt. A debt bigger than anything he had ever received.

He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t loyal to Hydra—they never managed to get a functioning brainwashing method to work on him. But he had followed their orders nonetheless. Because he had no motivation to defect. He hadn’t wanted to be hunted by Hydra for nothing.

Spider knew what he had to do.

He would repay his debt and make sure that his target could live on. He knew that even if he refused the mission, someone else would be sent.

Spider stretched his joints.

He knew what he had to do.

Spider stood in the command room, his ex-handlers lying at his feet, a loud alarm blaring to ears that would never hear again.

He typed at one of the computers, not caring about the blood dripping from his hair. His eyes flicked over the screen as more and more data was transferred. Login information for Hydra’s secret bank accounts was safely stored away. The template virus they used to generate new identities was copied onto a flash drive.

Spider’s fingers trembled when he found one folder— his folder. The one where every piece of information Hydra had on him was written down. The cursor hovered over the delete button. Spider took a deep breath before changing his decision and quickly downloading the folder instead.

He would look through it when he was safe.

He started the timer for the base’s self-destruction and ran to the plane that had been prepared for his mission to Thailand.

But instead, it would take Spider to the one place nobody would expect. Not that many people who had known of him—let alone who could search for him—were still alive.

New York

The home base of the Avengers—Hydra’s greatest enemy.

A city so heavily surveilled that no Hydra cell dared to operate there permanently. It was nearly perfect.

Leaving behind an exploding bunker full of bloodied corpses, Spider flew toward a new city, a new future.

Toward his older brother—the traitor.

Chapter Text

“…And because of your good work this year, the school wants to reward you all with a field trip to Stark Industries. And on that note, I wish you all…”

Peter wanted to cry. He’d had such a good run. After successfully arriving in New York, he had found a solid base to use, created a convincing identity, and enrolled in a school with fully equipped labs he could easily break into.

But now this—he had to go to the Avengers’ main base.

Yes, of course he had wanted to do that anyway… but at a later time, not during a school trip. He probably wouldn’t be able to steal anything, but maybe he could upload a virus for later.

Peter groaned. Why did things always have to get so complicated?

He packed his books into his bag and strolled out of the classroom. As he walked through the hallway, he mapped the surrounding rooms—just like he had done dozens of times before. He couldn’t allow himself the weakness of inattention.

Lab 6 was getting new chemicals tomorrow. He was running low on cyanoacrylate and polydimethylsiloxane—maybe he could siphon off a little bit. And the computer lab had just passed a submission deadline, which meant nobody would notice if he took a few unused heat sensors for his security system.

It gave him a sense of normality—always watching, always cataloging.

If he knew everything, no one could ambush him.

He stepped out of the building, the sunlight blinding him for a few seconds before his eyes adjusted. Around him, other students flowed past. A muscular boy tried to body-check him, but Peter didn’t move an inch.

Hmph . As if anyone could move him without his permission.

He broke away from his classmates—most of them were getting picked up by their parents. Peter took the bus down the street, one of only a few who did. For that, he was teased by some boys nearly every day. But Peter didn’t care. As if petty bullies could intimidate—or anger—the Spider.

He rode down to the docks in Queens, opposite Manhattan. There, he had found an unused warehouse he had promptly claimed as his own. The area had been damaged during the Chitauri attack on New York a few years ago. The path to his warehouse was destroyed, now part of the East River. No one had bothered to repair it or create a new access route. The only way in now was to scale the back and climb through a third-floor window.

Spider did exactly that and crawled into his territory. He relaxed instantly when he saw his space. A gigantic room opened up before him. He had workbenches in one corner and a kitchen with multiple fridges—curse his dam metabolism.

But what really made the room were the webs.

They spanned across the entire space. Some were thick strands, holding cameras and simulated furniture—like the hammock suspended in an upper corner. Others were so thin they were invisible to the eye. Spider had reinforced every wall and window with them. They couldn’t withstand an explosion, but they were strong enough to keep the place from collapsing in a strong storm.

Most importantly, they formed part of his security system. Spider could feel vibrations through the gigantic web. As soon as he touched a single strand, he knew instantly if something living was inside his space. It really helped with the rats.

Spider jumped over to a broken table suspended in mid-air by his webs. He started on his homework. For the most part, it wasn’t a challenge.

Seriously, are all Americans this dumb?

You shouldn’t be struggling with these easy physics questions at fifteen. He had thought that being in a STEM school would make things harder.

The only subject where Spider had problems was English literature—and that was only because his mother tongue was Russian.

He fought his way through the ridiculous ancient novels he had to read, wondering how those could still be considered relevant to today’s social problems if people had already been complaining about them hundreds of years ago.

After two scene analyses and thirty blissful minutes of physics, Spider was finished. He skipped over to his computer—it was time to make a plan for the field trip.

Just entering the Tower posed an enormous security risk for him. He knew it had a powerful surveillance system. Spider didn’t know if the Avengers had any data on him, but he seriously doubted it. His project was one of the most protected on record.

The real danger was the Avengers themselves. Spider had learned to act like a civilian, but he wasn’t sure his cover could fool one of the spies on their team—let alone Him.

So he had to make sure that no Avenger would be in the Tower during the visit. Hmm… assassination was too noticeable. Launching an attack on New York was out of the question—he didn’t have the time to arrange it.

Maybe… maybe he could force the Avengers to attack a Hydra base instead.

Yeah, that could work. If he leaked the location of one right before the trip, the Avengers would have no choice but to respond immediately or risk Hydra evacuating and relocating.

Spider accessed his encrypted Hydra hard drive. He scrolled past his personal folder—who knew he was originally Peter Parker, the son of two enemy SHIELD agents—and opened the data on current Hydra activity.

There it was: a mid-sized base in Philadelphia. Nothing too dangerous, mostly just a hub for field operations.

Spider prepared the leak and hacked a backdoor into a few public databases, places where he could dump the information without the risk of it being traced back to him.

After that, he ate a scrambled egg made from 34 eggs and half a kilo of cheese. Then he swung up into the corner and crawled into his hammock, overlooking his entire space, able to detect every potential intruder.

He had to sleep. Tomorrow would be a stressful day.

Chapter Text

The next day, Spider woke up at exactly 5:30, just like every other day—his routine ingrained in him after years of strict discipline under Hydra.

He ate his usual loaf of bread and chugged down a glass of water. Since he found it too complicated and time-consuming to set up a proper water connection, he had taken matters into his own hands and tapped into the neighboring warehouse’s supply. Was it really stealing if his neighbors were part of a mob?

As always, he went through his daily schedule. Today was his field trip. In preparation for this difficult task, he needed to get the Avengers away from the tower. He had already prepared a document containing the coordinates of a Hydra base—filled with enough trigger words to alert both Hydra’s algorithms and Stark’s powerful AI. All he had to do was upload the document to one of the right-wing forums he knew were being monitored.

The main mission, however, was more difficult: getting through the field trip without being exposed. He already knew how to move and talk without drawing suspicion—at least as long as no one examined him too closely. To further reduce the risk, he planned to deliberately trip or drop something at least three times in front of cameras and security personnel.

Spider’s secondary mission was to upload a virus he had stolen from Hydra and improved on his own. It wasn’t active or harmful—nothing the AI would immediately detect—but it would create a backdoor for future missions.

The only problem was that he had to upload the virus via a USB stick into a connected system. He needed at least three uninterrupted minutes for the upload and then had to remove the USB stick to avoid drawing attention.

But this mission was only secondary—optional. If he couldn’t complete it today, he’d find another way. Not getting discovered was far more important.

With a huff, Spider uploaded the document to a few forums. He took an apple from the fridge, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and set off for school.

A paper ball hit Peter on the back of the head. Ugh, how much he hated teenagers—they were so… immature. But they were lucky that Peter was mature enough to ignore them.

“Hey, Penis Parker!”

Okay, maybe he could allow himself to maim them a little later. Noisy teenagers.

Peter hated his past self for the idea of entering school. He knew that his behavior around peers had room for improvement, but he should have chosen homeschooling and just attended a few parties or something. Why had he decided on this hell?

Peter spent the entire rest of the bus ride lamenting his life choices. Countless paper balls were scattered behind his seat by the time his class exited the bus.

In front of them, a massive structure of steel and glass towered above. The characteristic letter A stood proudly at the top.

The teacher patted the students on the heads hastily to count them. Peter flinched and just barely stopped himself from breaking the man’s wrist.

They were ushered inside the giant lobby. A tired-looking intern introduced herself as their tour guide and explained the rules for the trip.

Peter listened with only one ear while scanning the room for exits and cameras. He tensed slightly when walking through security, but neither his USB stick nor his hidden blade triggered the alarm.

First, they walked through a museum, listening to the guide talk about the history of Stark Industries and later the Avengers.

Nothing Peter didn’t already know. He probably knew more than most people in the building. While Stark Industries had always been a risk for Hydra, the Avengers had, for the past few years, been Hydra’s number one enemy. Spider had been specially trained to fight them; in the process, he had gone through every file Hydra had on them.

They moved on to some biochemical labs, bombarding the many interns with questions. Peter noticed at least three errors in equations spread across multiple whiteboards.

But he was just Peter Parker—a mediocre student who would never notice such things—so he stayed quiet.

When the class went to the cafeteria for lunch, Peter found his chance to upload the virus.

A laptop hung carelessly out of the bag of a man in a suit. Peter slipped the USB stick into a port before sitting down at a neighboring table. When the three minutes were up, he stood up and accidentally dropped his keys. As he picked them up, he covertly pulled the USB stick out and crushed it in his pants pocket until only fine powder remained.

Peter snickered. Super strength was really practical for destroying evidence.

After lunch, the class strolled into an empty conference room.

The guide cleared her throat. “After that filling meal, we have a little challenge for you. The test I’m handing out was designed by Dr. Stark and Dr. Banner. If you score over 80%, you’ll qualify for an internship interview. With 90%, you’ll be offered an internship directly.”

“What happens at 100%?”

Ugh. That was the noisiest of his peers—Tash, or something like that.

“If you get 100%, you’ll get a personal meeting with Dr. Banner himself. But no one’s ever scored that. Back when I was in school, I only got 72%, so don’t feel bad if you don’t score too high.” She laughed loudly.

Peter skimmed over the paper. Most of it was pretty easy, though a few questions seemed challenging even for him. For the rest of the time, he worked through them slowly but steadily. He made sure not to write down all the correct answers—just enough to score average.

Ten minutes before the end, the doors opened and heavy footsteps entered the room. Peter was so absorbed in a particularly difficult equation that he didn’t look up—until he heard a familiar voice.

“брат?” (Brother?)

Spider went pale.

Chapter Text

“брат?” (Brother?)

Spider went pale.

That voice—he shouldn’t be here.

While his mind reeled, struggling to adapt to the situation, his body moved on instinct, following the training that had been drilled into him for years. His hands kept scribbling at one of his equations, his posture still hunched over his desk—utterly unfit for an assassin.

By the time he finally wrestled his mind back under control, he was already acting as though he were fully absorbed in the test. He only looked up when two heavy boots stopped in front of his desk.

Spider made sure to put on a baffled yet joyful expression. Wide-eyed, he stared at the last person he wanted to see.

“Oh wow, Mr. Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, sir—it’s such an honor to meet you.”

Despite the humiliating act, Spider rejoiced inwardly. The confused look the Winter Soldier gave him almost made him laugh.

Every face in the room was turned toward them, and that was exactly what Spider wanted.

He was no fool—he knew he couldn’t trick the Winter Soldier just by pretending not to know him. But the bystanders… as long as they were on his side, he was practically untouchable.

The Winter Soldier couldn’t attack without interference, and no one would believe that sunny, harmless Peter Parker was a dangerous Hydra asset.

And from the look on the Winter Soldier’s now-hardening face, Spider knew he understood that too.

“I’m sorry, I must have confused you with someone I hold dear.”

The comment nearly made Spider snap and attack the traitor. But knowing this was exactly what the Winter Soldier intended, he forced the emotion down and offered an apologetic smile.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. But it was really nice to meet you.”

With one last suspicious glance, the Winter Soldier backed out of the conference room—leaving behind an excited group of teenagers and one very stressed Spider.

Spider couldn’t wait for the field trip to end. He drifted through the labs and presentations on autopilot.

He knew he was being watched and couldn’t afford to show weakness. His mask had to be flawless, giving away nothing that could expose his real identity.

When school finally ended, Spider hurried back to his home base. He had a lot to do now that his fake identity was burned.

The only silver lining was that the Winter Soldier seemed to be alone in the tower. His less-than-shining reputation meant he couldn’t just isolate and interrogate a student—something any of the other Avengers could manage without question.

With a bitter expression, Spider moved through his warehouse, packing tech and prepping explosives. This fake life wasn’t perfect, but it was his. Every decision was his, every move his own. To abandon his first taste of freedom…

That’s when he felt it—a faint vibration running through the omnipresent web of his base. Someone was scaling the outer wall, and from the quiet scrape of metal, there was only one possible culprit.

The Avengers should still be on their mission, and the Winter Soldier didn’t have the authority to call in S.H.I.E.L.D.—at least, not this quickly. So he must be acting alone. Spider wasn’t sure whether to be pleased about that… or insulted.

Spider leapt to the ceiling, crawling behind a veil of web so he was hidden from view below. From there, he watched the Winter Soldier climb through his window, looking momentarily surprised by the sheer volume of the all-encompassing web.

Spider’s eyes scanned his figure—two guns and three knives hidden on his body. Disappointing. Did he really think so little of Spider?

He waited until the Winter Soldier moved further into the open room, then silently positioned himself between him and the window. The only visible exit was now blocked—of course, there were more, but they were hidden behind thin layers of web.

The silence stretched until Spider could no longer hold it.

“All alone, Soldier. Don’t you fear being eaten by the big, scary spider?”

The Winter Soldier scowled and slowly turned his gaze upward to where Spider still clung to the ceiling.

“Did you lure the Avengers out of the tower today?”

Straight to business, it seemed.

“Well, maybe I have, maybe I haven’t. Guess you’ll never know. By the way—where are they? I hope they didn’t just let their pet assassin stroll around the city unsupervised?”

Below him, the Winter Soldier’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding.

“They’re already on their way here.”

So he was alone—and hadn’t told anyone. Spider knew the Avengers would be tied up for at least two more hours. Enough time to end this and disappear.

“What was your mission, Spider? Who did you kill?”

“Ah, the prejudice—it wounds me. I was just on a school trip, you know, living my life like any other teenager. You could say that’s the greatest mission of them all.”

Spider snickered. It wasn’t a lie. Living his life was his mission now. And the twitch in the Winter Soldier’s right eye told him that answer wasn’t well received.

“Still such a loudmouth, брат (Brother)? Looks like Hydra still hasn’t beaten that habit out of you.”

With a cry, Spider launched himself at the Winter Soldier. The man tried to react, but he was too slow—slammed hard onto the floor, the air driven from his lungs. He tried to lift his arms, but both were suddenly webbed to the ground. Face-to-face with an enraged Spider, he froze.

“How dare you call me that name after you abandoned me? You have no idea what I went through after you left—just to be with your lover.” Spider spat the words with venom.

The Winter Soldier’s eyes widened, narrowed, then went wider still. His entire body went still.

“You’re not on a mission… you escaped Hydra too,” came his perplexed reply.

“Ding ding ding—we have a winner. Looks like you didn’t leave your brain behind when you left.”

“Spider, do you need help? I’m an Avenger. I can hide you from your handlers.”

He was smiling now—hopeful.

Spider felt disgust twist in his gut. He punched him full-force in the face.

“Don’t look at me like that. And I’ve already made sure I’m safe—and that no one else after me will suffer there. Something you couldn’t be bothered to do.”

The Winter Soldier winced beneath him, and Spider struck him again just to steady his own rage.

“And now you’ve destroyed my life again—but this time, it’s the last. You won’t run away this time. Funny, isn’t it? The reason I left was because of a mission to eliminate you. Looks like Hydra gets their wish after all.”

He raised his fist, ready to strike as many times as it would take. But before he could bring it down, a panicked voice broke through:

“The chair—they made me forget with the chair. And even after I got my memory back, I couldn’t remember where the base was. I tried to find you, but I had no trail to follow.”

Spider remembered the chair. The whirling blades against his temples, the jolts of electricity tearing through his body—pain, pain, pain, until it swallowed everything. Not that it had worked on him; his mutation had warped his mind enough to keep it from breaking completely.

“I destroyed that chair weeks before you left. They definitely didn’t have time to replace it. Don’t lie to me.”

“No, I swear, брат (Brother), they took me to a second base with a working chair.”

“Don’t call me that,” Spider said—but there was little force in his voice. His thoughts churned. If his brother had been forced to forget him… then maybe he hadn’t abandoned him after all.

But… he had never come back. Even if he’d forgotten, he should have found a way. The Winter Soldier was skilled enough to track anyone. Spider tried to rekindle the fire of his anger, but it sputtered, refusing to catch.

Without another word, he tore the webs from the Winter Soldier’s hands and jumped back.

“Go.”

He was too overwhelmed to think straight. Grabbing his backpack—still packed for his escape—he listened to the man behind him stand awkwardly, take a step toward him… then retreat toward the window, where he paused.

Before the Winter Soldier could speak, Peter cut him off. “Do I have to burn this identity, or will you do me a favor and keep your mouth shut?”

“I’ll stay silent about you. But please—”

“Go. Just go,” Peter said, tired. He just wanted to be left alone.

He listened to the heavy boots land outside the wall, then fade into retreating steps. Only then did he climb into his hammock, wrapping himself in webbing to shut the world out.

He didn’t know what to feel.

“Hey, Bucky, you should’ve seen us today! We haven’t hit a base that big in ages—we got nearly all the data they— What the hell, Bucky, what happened to you? Were you attacked? Bruce! Get over here—Bucky’s face is smashed!”

“What?”

“His face is what?”

“Didn’t we leave you at home?”

“Guys, guys… I just went for a walk through the city, and on my way back I fell on the sidewalk. But it’s not that bad.”

“The sidewalk? The sidewalk? Bucky, you have two black eyes, a split lip, and your nose is definitely broken! And don’t even get me started on the bruises.”

“…It was a very hard sidewalk.”

Chapter Text

For the next few days, Peter felt constantly on edge. Every moment, he expected an attack—an attempted kidnapping, an ambush, something. Instead, there was only peace, silence, and nothingness. And that was somehow worse.

He kept checking for disguised agents, cars tailing him, or anything out of the ordinary. His paranoia was so bad that even his peers at school began to notice the cracks in his carefully maintained mask. One of his teachers eventually pulled him aside for a concerned talk.

The night before, Peter had been so strung out that he burned the expensive sausages he’d been looking forward to all day.

Now, on his way home, he walked the long, spiraling path as usual, carefully checking whether any warehouses near his base had been disturbed—whether SHIELD had paid a visit, or if any of the used ones had been cleared out for a mission.

Satisfied at last, he climbed into his window—only to freeze.

A giant bag sat waiting for him.

Every instinct screamed danger, and he almost flung himself right back out the window. Forcing himself to stay calm, he plucked at one of his webs.

Nothing.

No vibration.

No movement.

Not even the faint hum of electricity.

Dead. Whatever it was, it wasn’t mechanized.

He sniffed cautiously. No trace of metal, explosives, or poison. Instead… fruit?

Yeah. Bananas. Apples. Berries. Definitely fruit—and even some vegetables. But what were they doing here, sitting in a bag inside his hideout?

Carefully, he crept closer, never letting his guard down, and opened it. His spider-sense stayed quiet.

Inside was exactly what it smelled like: fruit and vegetables. He checked them one by one. No hidden devices. No needle marks. No tampering. Just… food.

Peter frowned. What the hell?

Why was there a bag of products in his home?

Who brought it? No—scratch that. He already knew. Only one person even knew this place existed. But still… why?

Absentmindedly, Peter picked up an apple and bit into it.

The crunch echoed in his head. Sweetness flooded his mouth.

And suddenly, his chest tightened, his eyes burned. He nearly burst into tears.

It had been so long since Peter had tasted something truly sweet. His diet was almost entirely high-protein and high-calorie, carefully calculated to keep up with his impossible metabolism. Fruits and vegetables were too inefficient, too much of a luxury. He never bought them. Not when every stolen Hydra dollar had to be justified.

Then the memories hit him. That was exactly what the Winter Soldier had done back then: shriveled local fruits hidden inside his clothes, brought back from whatever mission he was on. The only flavorful food Spider had besides his plain constructed nutrition paste.

Like a starving man, he devoured the apple. When he finished and came back to himself, he froze in his tracks. What was he doing? He sat on the floor, sweet juice dripping down his chin, enjoying something the Winter Soldier had given him.

He shouldn’t enjoy things from those bastard. Even after what he had learned, the Winter Soldier had still left him, never came back.

He glared at the bag before storming to the sink to freshen up. Pungent soap was rubbed into his face, erasing every drop of sweetness. After that he sat at his table and started his homework. He suffered through his English literature assignment, not really understanding the novel he had to read, just writing down some interpretation in the hope of passing. Every few minutes he threw a glare at the upper level, where the bag still sat against his wishes.

As he lay down in his hammock, he twisted and turned restlessly. What should he do? Should he dump the bag in the East River and be rid of it? Should he smash it on the street to send a signal?

Those thoughts kept him awake for a long time before sleep finally claimed him.

The next day he ignored the bag, hoping it would just disappear. When he came back from school, it still stood in the same spot. Same thing the next day.

The day after, Peter came home and instantly noticed the anomaly. It wasn’t the same bag anymore. He peeked inside—fresh fruits and vegetables. The Winter Soldier had replaced the bag with new products.

This game repeated itself two more times. A bag with fresh fruits and vegetables appeared, Peter ignored it, and moved on with his life. Then the circle started again.

It was the fourth bag that convinced Peter to just… give up. He couldn’t really stop the bags, so why not profit from them?

He started eating the food, vowing to himself that he only did it to avoid wasting it—and not because it was so delicious.

After a few rounds, something changed. An additional bag appeared, this time filled with clothes.

Plain T-shirts with no pattern or text. Inconspicuous—perfect to fade into a crowd or the shadows.

Peter checked them, of course. He found nothing. No tracker, no contact poison, not even UV-colored stains to mark him.

It only took one more bag with another set of clothes to convince him to wear them.

A few weeks later, Peter—long since resigned to accepting the gifts—climbed through his entrance. He hoped a new bag would be waiting; he was hungry and looking forward to another banana. The old ones were already gone.

What he didn’t expect was the Winter Soldier standing in his room. Again.

Hearing him enter, the Winter Soldier turned around and looked at Peter like he was an insect, ready to be cut open and studied.

It was finally time. The Winter Soldier would ask for a favor. Probably payment for the bags. Sucks for him, Peter would rather run away and start new.

“You are failing English literature.”

“Huh?”

What the hell was that? Had he come to gloat about school, of all things? Peter was  spiraling —until he heard the man’s voice again.

“Do you require a tutor? I’m decent with this year’s novels.”

Okay… what the hell?

Chapter Text

Thump.

Another swing.

Thump.

Another swing.

Thump.

Peter huffed in annoyance and looked back at his computer, where a detailed guide on how to skip stones was open. He had read that this was a typical activity many children did.

But whatever he tried, he didn’t get it. He had searched for flat stones for over an hour, his perfectionism forcing him to only accept the flattest ones.

Now he sat at the original entrance to his base—the former access road long blown away by the Chitauri attack—his toes dipping into the East River.

He was a fucking assassin. He could throw paper stars at the perfect angle to slit someone’s throat. Why couldn’t he get stones to skip?

With a roar, he hurled the bag of stones out toward the water. Before it could hit the surface, a web shot out, attaching to the bag and yanking it back to Peter.

He shouldn’t lose his temper so quickly. He would have time later to perfect his technique. How difficult could it be if children could learn it?

He stomped back inside his hideout, leaving the bag at the opening. Throwing himself onto the couch, he let out a groan that was echoed by the old piece of furniture.

His gaze drifted to the piece of paper webbed to the wall across from him. More specifically, to the telephone number scribbled across it.

The Winter Soldier had given it to him before leaving an absolutely baffled Peter behind. The teenager had needed a minute to process the conversation they’d had, and by the time he came back to his senses, the Winter Soldier was already gone. Only the paper remained as a reminder of the whole confusing encounter.

Peter hadn’t known what to do with the number. At first, he had planned to just burn it—but he couldn’t bring himself to.

He had hated his brother for a long time, feeling left behind, abandoned. But learning that the Winter Soldier had been forced to forget his whereabouts—and, more importantly, still cared for Spider—had touched something deep inside him. At first, he’d felt hollow, not sure what to feel. But beneath it all was a longing. A longing for cuddles that warmed him through cold nights, for food rations slipped to him when he was punished with starvation, for a metal arm shielding him from bullets meant for him.

With a sigh, Peter pulled out his phone and typed in the number. If the conversation went badly, he could always emigrate to Australia or something. Nervously, he counted the ringing sounds.

A loud bang crackled through the speaker, tormenting his sensitive ears. Peter flinched back.

“What?” Gunshots echoed faintly in the background. But that was definitely the Winter Soldier’s voice.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?”

Right. Maybe Peter should answer.

“Are you seriously answering a phone call while being in an active battle? Do you know how irresponsible and dangerous that is?”

Had Peter really just said that? Now the Winter Soldier would surely get angry, cut off all contact, and sic S.H.I.E.L.D. on him. Maybe Peter should just jump into the East River now…

“Spider! Why would you think I’m in a battle?” came the happy but cautious reply. Was he for real? Peter could identify the Winter Soldier’s weapon just from the rhythm of the gunfire he heard clearly through the phone. “But don’t worry about me. What can I do for you? Do you need assistance—should I come to you?”

Suddenly Peter felt very insecure. He couldn’t really ask the Winter Soldier for tips on stone skipping… could he?

“Why is Klein so money obsessed?” he blurted out instead. Before he could get an answer, he rushed to add, “You said you’d help me with my school books.”

“It stems from his deep-seated trauma as a corporate slave. And because most of his problems could literally be solved by throwing money at them.”

Ha. Peter had totally aced that—deflection premium plus.

“But that’s not why you called me.”

Oh shit.

“I don’t know what you mean. I just had a problem and was too lazy to solve it myself, so I thought I’d use you…”

“Брат (Brother).” No—that was his serious voice. “Tell me why you called me.”

“…”

“You’ll have to speak louder so I can catch that.”

“Ineedhelpwithstoneskipping.” Peter rattled it out in one breath, his face burning red. Thank God this was just a phone call and not face-to-face.

“You called me to ask for help with stone skipping?” came the baffled reply.

“I’m sorry, that was a stupid idea. I just read that it was a normal childhood activity everyone did. And I tried everything, but it just doesn’t work, which is so stupid because I have the perfect stones and I’m throwing at the perfect angle but they just plunge in and don’t even skip once. And now I’m rambling. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have called.” Peter’s finger hovered over the disconnect button.

“Wait, wait Spider. I’d gladly help you. I was just confused for a second. But please—let me help you.” Another explosion echoed through the speaker. “Can you tell me where you’re throwing the stones?”

“Uh… water?”

“Yes, but what kind of water body?”

“Oh. I’m throwing over the East River. It’s directly behind my house.”

“Ah, I see the problem. You can’t skip stones over fast-flowing water. It’s too turbulent.”

That… made incredible sense.

“If you want, I could show you a nice lake in Central Park where I used to skip stones 80 years ago.” The Winter Soldier didn’t even pause to let Peter catch up.

And oh no—Peter was not ready for something like that. Before the Winter Soldier could keep going and drag him into a full-blown panic attack, Peter cut him off.

“Thanks, but I think that was enough. I’m very thankful for your support, but I’ve got things to do and no time to continue this phone call.”

“Oh… I was happy to help,” came the deflated and disappointed reply. “But good luck. And call me whenever you want.”

“We’ll see. Bye.”

“Take care of yourself.”

Peter gathered all his courage.

“And брат (Brother)…”

“Yeah?”

“Call me Peter.” And before the man could answer, Peter quickly disconnected the call and webbed his phone far across the room, where it stuck to a distant wall. The teenager buried himself deep under layers of webs and blankets, hiding from the world.

Bucky slipped his phone back into his pocket with one hand, the other still holding a gun as he fired at the murderous robots a cult had built.

He was so happy that Spider—no, Peter—had called him. When Bucky had given him his number, he had been fully prepared to never hear from the teenager again.

And even if Peter did call, he had expected nothing more than an SOS signal—Hydra finding him, or something equally horrible. Never in a million years had he imagined he’d be giving Peter tips on stone skipping.

The thought of Peter doing such childish activities made him smile. He never had a childhood, only training and conditioning to turn him into the perfect weapon.

“Everything alright, Snowflake? You seem distracted. Are you wounded?” Iron Man hovered nearby.

Bucky threw his head back and laughed, then flashed Iron Man a wide grin that startled the inventor.

"Oh im good. Feeling the best, i felt in a long time.“

Chapter Text

"As you can see, Mr. Parker’s octagon serves as the eye of the woman as well as a window for the building. The masterful coloration, as well as the placement with the other defining elements, shows two pictures overlapping each other with as little as possible one-sided forms.“

Peter preened under the praise from the teacher. He hadn’t thought that art would be one of his favorite school subjects. But he had found Cubism for himself. His extraordinary spatial perception and his mind that was used to webs enabled Peter to create deconstructed paintings out of geometric forms.

It didn’t hurt that he could precisely draw straight lines and accurately estimate angles freehand. While he enjoyed drawing with paint for school, his true pieces of art were in his base. He had started to create 3D artworks out of his web, which could be shown from different directions and would show different images.

“Something I can’t claim from you, Mr. Thompson. I don’t even know what half of your artwork is supposed to show. The colors also seem to be random and—”

The unholy chattering of hundreds of mandibles suddenly filled the air. With a shriek the girl—Mons or something—fell from her chair as she tried to move away from Peter.

Ah, damn, this was his phone. But nobody had ever called him before; as good as nobody even had his number.

The horror-inducing sound continued before he could silence his phone.

“I’m so sorry, this is an emergency. I have to answer this.”

Under the judging look from his teacher, Peter stormed out of class. Whoever this was he would murder them.

Slowly. With much blood.

The screen showed the number of the Winter Soldier, which was odd. He had never called Peter before; all communication always started from Peter’s side.

Since his first call, Peter had called a dozen times the Winter Soldier. It was mostly stupid questions about school work or his task of integration into a normal teenager’s life. To his deepest shame Peter had to admit that he had twice called the Winter Soldier deep in the night to scream at him. Both had ended with a sobbing Peter hanging up before he could get an answer. It was never spoken about after.

But to get a call now, during school hours, must mean an emergency of gigantic extent—which, of course, made it probably uninteresting for Peter.

“Hello, Peter Parker here,” he trilled into the microphone.

“Peter, I need your help. You have to—”

“Ah, Winter Soldier, how are you doing? I’m doing fine, by the way—got a good grade on my artwork ten minutes ago.” Even when the relationship between them was better, provoking the Winter Soldier was one of Peter’s favorite activities.

“Peter, not right now.” Came the growling answer. Uhhh—it was serious. “There is a terrorist on the loose. He has a formula for a substance that steals your free will. He plans to put it into the water supply to brainwash entire cities.”

“And? You know that I’m safe against most poisons and nothing could influence my mind before. Why don’t you call your Avenger friends?” he tried to appear bored. He was worried a bit—if that hit New York he would have to start new in another city and that would be annoying.

“Because we are fighting the rest of the terrorist cell while we speak. And if he vanishes we have no chance to find him again. And so many innocents will die. Please, Peter.”

Peter rolled his eyes—really guilt-tripping. Had the Winter Soldier forgotten that Peter was trained by the Red Room in manipulation? He could identify manipulation attempts ten times better than that.

“Still doesn’t look like a me-problem. And why should I care about innocents? Don’t think because I deflected I will start to wear my boxers over my pants and scream justice or something. I only left because I didn’t want to kill you.” The last sentence just slipped past his mouth; he hadn’t intended to reveal that. They had never really spoken about Spider’s defection from Hydra.

“Then do it for me as a favor. A big one.” Ah damn—the Winter Soldier hadn’t lost his edge. But a favor from him was a big deal, Peter knew that. That would offset all the gifts and help he had received the last weeks and would set the Winter Soldier in his debt.

“If you insist. Send me his identifying information and where you lost him and I’ll handle it.”

“Thanks, Peter, really. Please just capture him; we need to know if there are copies of the formula.”

Without saying goodbye, the Winter Soldier disconnected the call. Rude.

His phone vibrated and multiple pictures of a bald man named Francis appeared, as well as coordinates. Really—that guy was a terrorist? Peter would have never thought it; on the other hand, who was he to judge?

He sprinted back to class to grab his backpack and ramble an apology before taking off from school. Luckily he had a set of spare clothes in his locker.

It didn’t take long for Spider to find the man. He wasn’t really good at covering his tracks. He was really so silly—switching between walking inside a big crowd and moving through abandoned alleys.

Pft—maybe twenty years ago that was a viable option, but in times of cameras and recognition software it was useless. Spider had extensive training in both escaping and tracking.

He waited until Francis was deep inside an alley, then struck. He webbed the man’s feet together to let him faceplant.

“Who is there? I have no money, so don’t try to rob me, it’s useless.”

“Money? He really thinks we seek his money.” With an insane giggle Spider crawled out of the shadows, all unnaturally bent limbs. Oh—and he was on the wall, high above the terrified man.

“Ugh, what the fuck. Stay… stay away from me, you freak.” The terrorist was now scuttling back on all fours. Two quick webs later he was firmly secured on the ground.

With a leap Spider hopped onto the man, his mask hovering centimeters over the fear-paralyzed face. Black glass lenses stared into wide brown eyes.

“You displease us calling us ‘freak.’ We are magnificent. We are superior.” Oh, he loved to play into his animalistic side. He didn’t have the opportunity often because Hydra preferred undetected assassinations.

“What are you? What do you want from me?”

“We are the nest that will devour the world. We are the swarm that will hunt humanity. And you have something we want: a little formula.”

Hm—interesting. He didn’t think Francis could become even more pale. Time to finish it off.

He tilted his head as if he were listening to something while producing chittering sounds that overlapped themselves.

“But you don’t need to give it to us willingly. Part of us proposed to lay our eggs in you and let our babies eat your brain to collect this information.” Spider didn’t know how anybody could fall for this—that was not how a brain functioned.

“No, please, I beg you—no eggs. I’ll give it to you, I’ll give you everything you want. But please—”

Ten minutes later Spider jogged out of the alley, a hard drive in his hand and the address of two backups.

Peter lay on his couch, legs hanging over the edge, watching a video on his phone when he heard a loud thump. Heavy footsteps trampled through his webs and a big figure jumped down toward him.

Peter lazily glanced up. Yep—the looming giant standing over him was the Winter Soldier. Confusingly, he seemed kinda angry.

“Peter, what the fuck?” Definitely angry.

“What do you mean? Why are you angry?” Peter began to get annoyed himself. What had he done to provoke this reaction? Winter Soldier never got angry. Incredibly annoyed and filled with aggression, yes, but truly angry…

“I’m angry because of Francis.”

“Who? Ah, the guy you called me about. Yeah, I handled him.” He blinked sheepishly.

“You were supposed to capture him, not break his neck.”

“I thought I’d save you the time. I got his formula and already destroyed all the copies that existed. And like hell I was going to let someone who saw me walking around life.”

Winter Soldier dragged his hands down his face, groaning.

“Do you know how it looked to the other Avengers? They found a still-warm corpse with the most horrified expression on his face—by the way, what did you do?—and the formula for the super-dangerous brainwash drug is missing.”

“Can’t you tell them you handled it, please?” He widened his eyes pleadingly but got only an eyeroll back. After a second, Winter Soldier faltered and gave a small nod.

“Thank you. And to get the information I needed, I had to put a little stress on him.”

Winter Soldier narrowed his eyes. “Did you tell him you would lay eggs in his belly?”

“Maybe?”

Winter Soldier suddenly looked very tired. “Peter, I’m very thankful for what you did today—you really helped me out. But we will talk about what you can and can’t do. At least when you work for me.”

Under Peter’s spluttering, the ex-assassin stood up and walked toward his fridge. Peter attempted to follow but was stopped with a stern glare.

“As thanks for your help, I’ll make dinner for us. Real dinner—not the shit you call cooking.”

"What happened to the formula by the way?"

"Hm, I memorized it for further use and destroyed all physical evidence."

"Of course you did."

Chapter Text

Peter was pretty sure it was a trap. It looked harmless, but his senses blared that it was a trap.

His day had started well. It was the weekend, so he had taken the chance to sleep in. He’d eaten a wonderfully tasty fruit salad for breakfast.

Afterwards, he had traveled to a library on the other side of New York. He had overheard one of his classmates gushing about its vast collection of books on material science—a topic Peter was heavily invested in at the moment.

It was… satisfactory. He’d found enough material to continue a few of the projects and ideas he was working on, but he had expected more. To not be misunderstood, the library was filled with the newest publications and books. But that was the problem—the science wasn’t developed enough yet, at least not if you asked Peter. He had a few theories whose basics had already been proven by some publications, but the connections between different concepts and their effects hadn’t been traced further.

Hmm, maybe Peter should write something himself and try to send it to a magazine to publish. Even if it would be mostly theory, it could be used as a stepping stone for someone else to test.

So you could say his day was perfect.

At least until he climbed through his window only to feel the now familiar vibrations—the strong heartbeat of a supersoldier, the mechanical hum of a metal arm, and the tip of a boot rhythmically tapping the ground.

Initially he was happy, but as the Winter Soldier came into his field of view Peter froze. There were two comfy-looking chairs in the middle of his room, facing each other. The Winter Soldier sat in one of them, holding a pad of papers, looking up at him.

He couldn’t prove it, but somehow, that was a trap.

“Hello, Peter. Would you mind joining me?” The Winter Soldier pointed to the empty chair. His tone was soft but didn’t allow objection.

Slowly, Peter crept toward the indicated seat, his eyes scanning the room for anomalies—an explosive, a hidden camera, anything to help him understand what was happening and why he felt mortal danger.

“How was your day? What did you do today, and how is your mood?” A reassuring smile was thrown at him, leaving the teenager confused.

“It… what are… I mean, I’m good. I was checking out a library in Staten Island,” he stuttered out.

“That sounds like something you enjoy. Do you often go to libraries on weekends?”

“Sometimes, when I have the chance and no time pressure… Excuse me, but what exactly is this?” He gestured vaguely at everything around him.

The Winter Soldier sighed and looked at him with a serious expression. “Peter, what you did to Francis last week was not okay.” Seeing his confused face, he added, “The guy you threatened with laying eggs in him—and the one you killed later. That’s why I decided to train you in how to act undercover as a socially well-adjusted teenager.”

Training—training was something Peter knew. He was good at it. He just hoped it wasn’t like back then. The Winter Soldier had always tried to punish him less painfully, but painful it was nonetheless.

“What will this training include?” His voice was mechanical and detached.

The Winter Soldier looked at him with sad eyes. “Don’t worry, Peter. You’ll just tell me what you did in your day-to-day life, and then we’ll talk about why you did it and what better alternatives there could be.”

Holding eye contact with Peter, he continued, “Peter, you are my брат (brother). You are the most important thing in the world to me. I never wanted to hurt you, even back then, but under Hydra’s orders I couldn’t ignore what they told me to do. But now that we’re free, I will never hurt you again.”

Not anticipating these words, Peter stiffened. Tears were stinging his eyes as he was overwhelmed with emotions he hadn’t felt this strongly in a long time.

Feeling his turmoil, the Winter Soldier continued to speak, giving Peter a moment to collect himself. “Tell me why you decided to go to the library. Did you interact with anyone there? How did that go? What was their reaction to you?”

“I wanted to check out a theory I had—if I can coat my webs with this chemical formula I created to make them conductive. But the problem I had…”

Peter talked and talked about his past days, the Winter Soldier only interrupting to clarify something or to ask about Peter’s motivation at specific points. Every time Peter finished explaining an action, the Winter Soldier would discuss it, showing him how it probably looked to other people and what he could do better next time.

It was at the end, when Peter couldn’t find a new topic to talk about, that the Winter Soldier asked a question of his own rather than just reacting to Peter’s words.

“Peter, I’ve noticed that you avoid addressing me by name. The rare times you call me directly, you call me Winter Soldier. Why?”

Peter frowned. “What do you mean? Your name is Winter Soldier.”

The Winter Soldier looked at him, bewildered. “Peter, you’ve surely found in your research about us that I go by Bucky now. Winter Soldier was my title—just as Spider was for you.”

Peter scoffed at these words. “That name is ridiculous.”

“And why do you think that? I like the name just fine. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s just ridiculous. You shouldn’t ask me to call you that.” He really hated this question.

“Look, Peter, it’s just a nickname the Avengers…” He paused as he saw Peter narrowing his eyes. “Peter, do you hate the name Bucky because the Avengers call me that?”

“That is absolutely idiotic, that you would even think that.”

“Peter, don’t lie to me!”

“I just don’t want to talk about it. Let it go.” Peter felt his temper rising.

“You will explain this. Now!”

“I said let it go.” His voice was getting louder.

“Peter…”

“BECAUSE THEY TOOK YOU FROM ME. I HATE THEM. I hate them. I hate them.” He had started screaming, but his voice lowered gradually until he whispered the last words.

“Oh, Peter.” He could feel two big arms—one warm and one cold—circle him and pull him toward a broad chest. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

He stroked the boy’s hair until Peter’s breathing evened out.

“Why do you think they took me away from you? I told you it was Hydra’s fault.” His arms never left Peter.

“I know. I know that. But you left, and when I found you again everything was different, and it was all the Avengers. You had your old best friend back, you had a new home, you had new mission partners, you had a whole new family. And I was totally forgotten,” he murmured.

“I never stopped thinking or looking for you. And I would leave them all behind if you asked me. Say the word and we’ll leave this city and begin a new life together.” The words were spoken softly into Peter’s hair.

“Promise?”

“I promise. Or I’ll lose my arm.”

With a chuckle, Peter pushed away from him, his hand thumping against metal. “You idiot.”

After a minute of silence, both sunken deep into their thoughts, Peter looked up. “If you really mean it, then I guess you can stay with the Avengers. I trust that you won’t leave me.”

“Thanks, Peter.”

“…”

“If you don’t like the name Bucky, why not call me James? It was my childhood name, but nobody uses it anymore. It could be something just between the two of us.”

“James. James. Yeah, I like that. A superior name in every sense.” A smile graced Peter’s lips as he looked at an also smiling James.

Chapter Text

As the bell sounded, Peter started packing up all of his stuff. Today had been a really long day. Some guys had been trying to bully him for the last few weeks. The constant name-calling was really getting on his nerves, and he was so close to teaching them a lesson.

But no—James had forbidden him to demolish his classmates. Well, not forbidden, but he had heavily implied during their behavior training that he would be very, very disappointed if Peter lashed out.

That was the only thing saving his peers. That, and the fact that they had stopped trying physical bullying. At least their attempts. The one and only time they tried was in the hallway, when Dash walked up to him and tried to push him into a locker—the American clichés were real, who would’ve thought—only for Peter to anchor his sticky feet to the ground and refuse to move. In the end, Dash walked away red-faced and with his tail tucked between his legs under the laughter of all present.

Since then, the verbal bullying had escalated, but nobody had tried anything physical again.

He stepped out of the school doors, his eyes moving over the schoolyard and parking lot. Analyzing everything he saw, comparing faces to previous days and clocking what was new.

That was when he saw it.

An eye-burning red-and-blue cabriolet with open windows, blasting at full volume “Róa”—a song Peter had been obsessed with recently.

And sitting inside this monster of a car like he belonged there, one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging half outside, was James.

Peter’s mouth hung open. Their eyes locked, and a predatory smile grew on James’s face. His hand waved Peter over.

Nope. He would not do this.

His mouth clicked shut, eyes down, and Peter started walking away. He used all his training to vanish into the crowd, his body moving through them like it was water.

Honk! Honk!

“Peter, I’m here to pick you up!”

Faster. He had to be faster.

Honk! Honk!

“Peter, I am here.”

He was so close—just a few meters and he would be on the street. From there he could sprint away and be free.

“Peter Parker, with the red backpack standing by the lamppost. Come here or should I get out and carry you to the car?”

Peter stilled. Between him and James’s car an empty pathway began to grow. All eyes were centered on him. Something that would never have bothered him before, but after weeks of James’s training—What do you think bystanders think in that situation? How do you think your actions affect the people around you?—their gazes put Peter under pressure.

With pinched lips he stormed to the car, threw himself into the seat, and hid his face in his palms.

“Drive. Drive,” he hissed at James.

The man chuckled but gave him the mercy of pulling out into the street.

“I will cut out every fiber of your leg and arm muscles and feed them to you like spaghetti,” Peter promised, his face still hidden and red.

A big hand appeared on his head, carefully shuffling his hair. “I’m sorry, but I never had the opportunity to embarrass you. And I bet you’ll forgive me if I tell you what I have planned for today.”

Melting under the touch—the longer he was with James, the more vulnerable he let himself be—Peter found it harder and harder to hold onto his anger.

“Don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me what you want to do today.”

Now openly laughing at Peter’s impatience, James continued. “Well, first we’re going to a physics fair for modern transport…”

The physics fair was awesome. Peter could admit that with his whole heart. Hearing experts discuss the newest inventions, asking questions that saved him hours of independent research—it was amazing.

Afterwards, they had landed in a Thai restaurant. James had given them the mission to let Peter try every different taste there was.

They were in the middle of dessert when James sprung a question.

“Have you thought about the future?”

Deep into a bowl of fried fruit, Peter talked around the food. “I thought we could try this new café next. They advertise with their deconstructed pastries.”

“No, I mean your life. Do you know what you want to do after school?”

That made Peter raise his head, his dessert momentarily forgotten. He narrowed his eyes and thought about the question for a long moment.

“I… I haven’t really thought about it. Most of my goals were short term. Get to safety, get a hideout, don’t get caught. Things like that. I haven’t really had the opportunity to plan my future.”

“I want you to know that I’ll support you in every way I can. I’ve researched the different paths available here. I’ve picked out study programs and apprenticeships I think will interest you the most. But if you choose another path, I’ll stand beside you at every turn.”

Peter felt tears swelling in his eyes. These promises were everything to him.

“I also want to talk about our relationship. I would like to officially claim you. That means I’d have to inform at least the government and the Avengers about us.”

At the word Avengers, Peter’s mood plummeted immediately.

“I know you’re not a fan of them, and I’ll never ask you to be. Just… if they know, I can freely use their resources for you. And I don’t have to sneak out to meet you anymore. I want to have you proudly by my side. I want to tell everyone that we belong together and not treat you like a dirty secret. Just think about it.”

The rest of dessert, both were silent. But it was not an awkward silence—no, it was a silence of two minds deep in thought.

On the drive back, they had only superficial talks. Just pointing out when they saw something interesting and sharing a quick laugh.

As Peter climbed out of the car, his hand lingered on the car door. With a serious expression, he looked into James’s eyes.

“If you really think it’s a good idea, you can tell your team about me. I don’t want to move in with you or meet them. At least not yet. Just tell them about me, and we can talk about moving forward later. But not now.”

Not waiting for a reply, Peter closed the door and climbed into the house.

It took a long time before he could hear the gravel crunch under the moving-away car.

“Will you finally tell us why you gathered us all here?”

“I bet you’ve all noticed how weird Bucky has been acting these last few months?”

“Wasn’t really unobtrusive. For an assassin, he was really obvious.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Totally.”

“Tony, Natasha, and I have been trying to find out what’s wrong. And…”

“…?”

“What is it? Spit it out.”

“What Capsicle is trying to say is that we think Hydra has somehow managed to put Bucky under their mind control again.”

Chapter Text

“What Capsicle is trying to say is that we think Hydra has somehow managed to put Bucky under their mind control again.”

“What? I mean he was just acting a little weird. Like i have a secret hobby weird—not I’m again-brainwashed weird,” exclaimed Sam.

“Let’s start chronologically from the beginning. I think that would be for the best,” interrupted Natasha, having no desire to drag the topic out.

“Yeah, yeah, right. A few months ago we got the tip about a Hydra base. While we all flew over, Snowflake had to stay behind because his arm had a problem with its sensitivity. At the same time, Midtown High—a local school—had a field trip to the Avengers Tower. Part of the group was Peter Parker.”

A boy is seen on multiple screens around the group: listening to lectures, watching demonstrations, and eating lunch.

“He looks like a normal teenager, not like a threat.”

“I would move exactly like him,” came Natasha’s calm voice.

“What do you mean? You have much more grace than him.”

“If I want to. If I want to be undercover, I would move exactly like Parker. I would even be clumsy at the exact same moments—I can foresee nearly every muscle twitch he makes. That’s Black Widow training if I ever saw one.” Her words left the group speechless.

“You also have to see this.” The group watched how the boy stumbled and, undetected, slipped a hard drive into an employee’s computer. “It’s too long ago to find out what virus he slipped into our network, but JARVIS is searching every part of his code as we speak.”

“But the biggest scene of that day is this,” Steve continued. All screens went black except for one, where Bucky is stomping down a hallway in the tower, glancing through the windows of a conference room. His entire body goes still and rigid before he storms into the room. “Sadly we don’t have audio records of the room. But witnesses said that Bucky called Parker ‘brother’ in Russian. Parker didn’t react and played innocent. Bucky then leaves the room and Parker finished the tour before going home.”

“Quick question: do we know anything about Peter Parker?” chimed Bruce in.

“His official records say ‘emancipated minor.’ It all looks really good—cross-references check out—but if you look closer, you see a typical Hydra forgery. Nothing we haven’t seen a hundred times before.” Tony took over the technical part. “Interestingly, there are two Dr. Parkers who died 14 years ago in a plane crash with their son Peter Parker. Both were high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.”

On the screen are now two old pictures of a couple—their similarities to Peter Parker clearly visible.

“Parker arrived roughly a year ago and got into school immediately. His exact home location is unknown, but I suspect he lives somewhere by the docks. The area still hasn’t repaired all the Chitauri damage, so we neither have cameras nor do we know exactly which buildings are occupied and which are empty. Parker doesn’t travel outside of school, except for his interest in science.”

“Anyway, later that day Bucky armed up and moved toward the docks. We don’t know exactly what happened, but he came back bloody and bruised.”

“Oh, I remember that,” came from Sam. “He looked really awful and wouldn’t tell us what happened, only that he ‘kissed a sidewalk’ or so.”

“We concluded that he tried to confront Hydra and was overwhelmed and brainwashed in the process.”

The mood became suddenly sullen again. The previous attempts to lighten the mood washed away when they all realized that their friend was locked up in his own mind without any of them noticing.

“The next few weeks I found that Bucky had withdrawn money multiple times. Sadly he is still an accomplished assassin and I can’t find where the money ended up. I would bet that he funneled it to Hydra.” Tony ground his teeth, admitting his frustration.

“After that began a period where he had phone calls about seemingly random topics. We couldn’t hear entire conversations, but we got parts: random books, stone skipping, cloud-watching, or mandalas. After each call his mood seemed to lighten—I would bet those were trigger words or codes for some plans.”

“One evening I heard shouting from his room; he had forgotten to close his door completely. It was mostly something about him being a traitor and abandoning someone. I couldn’t hear much even with my super hearing, but after the person hung up I could hear Bucky crying.” Steve seethed with anger at what had happened to his oldest friend.

“The Sect of a Better Tomorrow!” shouted Clint. As every pair of eyes turned toward him, he hurried to explain. “The sect that had this mind-control drug. We tried to capture their leader, Argent, but when we found him his neck was already broken and his things were stolen. Bucky split up from us and later told us that he had handled it. I bet that was Hydra.”

“So Hydra has another way to brainwash people. Perfect.”

“The greatest problem we see at the moment is that Bucky has now openly started to associate with Parker. Yesterday Bucky picked him up at school and drove him to a physics fair—probably to scout out potential targets for Hydra. We have to act soon or something will happen, I fear,” concluded Tony.

“Why should we do something? Can’t we let S.H.I.E.L.D. pick up Parker at school and sedate Bucky?” asked Wanda bluntly.

Natasha and Steve looked uneasy, eye to eye.

“Bucky has sometimes called Parker ‘Spider.’ While we couldn’t find specifics for this name, we came across Project Spider. Again, nothing specific—just references to money sums or trainers who would be allocated to Project Spider. Even the Red Room sand Black Widow trainees. If we look at the big picture, we can conclude that whatever Project Spider is, it’s a gigantic secret project even for Hydra. The boy is probably a murder machine.”

“And he already beat Bucky.”

“Yeah, that too.”

“So what can we do?”

“Bucky has a meeting with Director Fury today and requested another later with us. While he is with Fury, we use the chance to neutralize Parker and later capture Bucky and reverse the brainwashing.”

“Avengers—assemble.”

Peter was leaving the bus when he first felt it—the eyes watching him. Casually glancing around, nothing seemed abnormal—wait, he caught a light reflex on a rooftop. Definitely metal, probably a weapon.

Not letting it show, he moved into a different street than usual. He knew it would lead him toward a group of storage halls that were mostly empty, and the few that were active probably weren’t being visited right now.

He moved steadily forward, his behavior not straying from the usual. They couldn’t know that he had sensed them.

The question was—who were they?

His first thought was Hydra, but everyone who knew about his identity was dead and all the proof was burned down. Peter made sure of that.

Next on the list would be S.H.I.E.L.D., but James wanted to talk to them today—and it didn’t fit their procedure. Peter could clearly feel the bloodlust in the air.

Had he angered some local gang? Was his base inside someone’s territory?

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt something moving toward him from behind. His reflexes acted faster than his brain, and a second later he had turned around and caught an arrow in his hand. His senses were still screaming at him, so he threw the arrow away just in time to avoid a cloud of gas that burst out of its back.

Who the fuck was shooting arrows in this economy? Those heads cost a fortune. The only person Peter could think of off the top of his head was—

“Hawkeye?”

He saw a silhouette jerk up on the rooftop before it seemed to melt back into the shadows.

A crackle of electricity warned him half a second before a redhead darted out of a doorway, taser aimed at him. It was easy for Peter to avoid her, but her movement pattern irritated him for a short moment. Ah, a “Black Widow,” he presumed. He had fought against enough of them to know their style. They were all so boringly similar—so predictable.

She jumped back to one side of the street, probably trying to distract him from the object silently gliding toward him from behind.

Peter waited until the last second to jump into a high salto, landing on the back of a man with metal wings. He used him as a springboard to get higher into the air. The man lurched before stabilizing again.

“And you were the eagle.”

“What? I’m the Falcon,” came the offended answer.

“Exactly what I said.”

The three of them attacked for two more minutes, probably trying to scout his abilities. Peter paid attention not to show anything important while also learning their patterns.

“Not that I’m against us playing here,” he finally said when it became repetitive, “but can at least one of you tell me what exactly this is?”

The three halted for a moment before surrounding him. Thrusters could be heard as Stark descended from the sky, and the Super-Loser and the witch both stepped out of nearby buildings. Only Dr. Banner seemed to be missing.

“Oha, the whole circus group assembled. I feel honored. Had I known that before, I would’ve cleaned up a little—maybe put on a red nose or a pair of spotted, overgrown pants.”

His hearing picked up faint giggling from the archer. Peter pointed a finger at him, startling everyone else. “See? He gets me.”

“You may find this funny, but we are here to arrest you. Peter Parker, lay yourself and your hands on the ground, and don’t resist us,” Mr. Super-Idiot, of course, had to destroy the vibe.

Tapping his fingers against his lips, Peter was the epitome of deep thought. “A very tempting offer… but I think I’ll decline.”

With those words, he catapulted himself toward Hawkeye, breaking his bow. Best to take out the long-range fighters first.

The rest of them took that as the signal to attack from all sides. Still not taking it too seriously, Peter danced between them, constantly avoiding every attack without countering. The only thing he did was clog Stark’s repulsors—those things were really annoying.

“Will anybody finally tell me why you’re here, or do you want to keep fighting? I think I can do this a lot longer than you guys,” he said, his tone lazy now as his interest faded. “No offense, of course.” Better not to insult James’s friends too much.

“We know you’re Hydra. Isn’t that explanation enough?” As predicted, Stark couldn’t resist the bait.

“Past tense, my friend. Past tense. So I take it James talked to you.” James had probably only managed a few words before these short-tempered idiots stormed out of the Tower. Only Dr. Banner seemed to be a normal adult—that was why he was Peter’s favorite. That, and his enormous knowledge.

“James? You mean Bucky?” Super-Idiot slid into the conversation.

“Augh, I hate that stupid name.”

“Well, Bucky told us all about you.”

Not really listening, Peter tried to catch the shield and toss it back at the perfect height so that Super-Idiot had to stretch his arms and go on his tiptoes to catch it. He was a teenager, and teenagers had to have fun.

“He told us all about the Spider—Hydra’s secret asset.”

Hearing that, Peter bluescreened for a second—long enough to get hit by a punch that sent him flying into a wall.

James wouldn’t have started with that.

He wouldn’t.

He hadn’t called Peter that name in forever.

He wouldn’t.

“Yeah, you didn’t think that, huh? He told us exactly what you are.”

The fight wasn’t a game anymore for Peter. His head was full of static; he couldn’t concentrate on the fight. Small hits began slipping through his defenses.

“You really thought Bucky was on your side? No—he instantly broke through your mind control and told us all about Hydra’s operation.”

What were they saying? James wouldn’t do that. He had said Peter was his highest priority—higher than the Avengers. He had promised. He had promised.

“He told us everything—from your first contact at the Tower to the science fair yesterday. Everything was just a play to fool you, Spider.”

No. No. No. No. No. No.

He had promised.

But he had abandoned you before, a voice whispered in his mind.

He left you for his friends and didn’t look back.

And now he’s doing it again.

“And when we’re finished with you, you’ll spend the rest of your life in some underground prison, while Bucky will finally be free of you.”

James had left him.

He would be alone again.

Alone.

Alone.

With a cry, Spider launched himself at the group. His first move was to grab Hawkeye and throw him into a building—hard enough that he heard bones crack. Hawkeye didn’t get up again.

Hearing the familiar crackle of electricity, he slipped into the dance he had performed a hundred times before against Black Widows. A kick to the head knocked her out cold.

I’m so tired… maybe I should just lie down and SLEEP.

Red entered his vision. What was that?

So tired… I should really SLEEP.

He had read about it before but had never encountered it himself.

SLEEP.

The witch—she had been hiding since the start of the fight. Spider spun around to see a pair of panicked, wide eyes staring at him, her hands raised toward his head, red mist swirling between them.

Giving her a feral grin, he grabbed her wrists and twisted. She screamed as her arms broke clean through. Unable to move her fingers anymore, her magic evaporated.

Sensing a fast-approaching object from his side, he caught Captain America’s shield with one hand—then folded it in half to the horror of every conscious Avenger. The now-deformed metal ball was thrown at Falcon, damaging his left wing and sending him crashing into the street.

Looking up, Spider saw the horrified expressions of both Captain America and Iron Man—both frozen where they stood. Or, in Iron Man’s case, hovered.

A second later, they rushed him, probably hoping to overwhelm him.

With a snarl, he fired a massive web, trapping both in a thick net—rolling them into a cocoon.

Tipping it over, he stalked toward Captain America, who groaned from the heat of a thruster burning against his back. Spider leaned in until they were face-to-face, their noses almost touching.

“Listen here, you bastard. You’re all alive only because I decided so. Because, unlike the two-time traitor, I still have an ounce of loyalty left. Tell the Winter Soldier I don’t want to see any of you—or him—ever again. If I see even a single hair from any of you, I’ll reactivate the last order Hydra gave me. He knows what that means.”

When Spider was sure his message had sunk in, he sprinted down the street, leaving Earth’s mightiest heroes groaning and broken behind him.

He had to activate his escape protocols, grab his things, and flee while he still had time—before S.H.I.E.L.D. hunted him down completely.

The tears streaming down his face were only because of the dry wind hitting him.