Peter nibbled on his lower lip as the elevator pinged and F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced his and Tony's personal floor. He slunked past the breakfast bar where Tony slurped coffee and scanned a holographic newspaper because he'd never be caught dead reading an actual newspaper, like the old men-or otherwise known as Steve.
"Hoooold up their Pete, bring it around here now." Peter cursed Tony's new dad-senses and slunked over to the opposite chair.
"Why the long face, kid?"
"I have a stupid history project, on stupid World War 2 and stupid Flash has the same one!"
Peter knew very well he was just being petulant but he couldn't help it and folded his arms over his chest.
Tony clapped his hands wide and grinned. "Alright, hey no bother we've got the history buffs right up a floor! Oi Stevie, Buckabear I summon thee."
"Wait, n-n-no don't- I mean it's probably traumatising for them and I don' wanna bring that up I mean that's terrible."
"What do you want Tony?" Steve sounded tired and it made Peter cringe.
"Nothing, nothing, sorry guys."
Tony ignored him, clamping a hand on his shoulder. "Underoos here has a history project. Time to relive the glory days Capsicle!"
"Oh." Steve gave Peter a soft smile.
"No problem Peter. C'mon."
He led their way over to Tony's biggest couch with Bucky stoically following as always.
Peter shot Tony a half hearted glare as the billionaire gave him a grin, a thumbs up, and ushered him over. He grabbed a notebook and sat on the footstool in front of the two soldiers nervously.
"So as you know, Peter, the Germans didn't like the Treaty of Versailles, very upset about it. They were in a bit of an economic crisis you see and everybody got very desperate." Steve fixed Pete with piercing slightly puppy dog look.
"Desperate people do silly things, Peter."
Peter nodded solemnly. "Yeah. I get that. But…" he hesitated. "See my topic is on the life of soldiers in particular and well.."
He scuffed his new converse on the fancy carpet as Bucky grunted and Steve smiled, ever patient.
"Who better to ask than the two living soldiers right?" he said it with humour, making light of it, but for the first time Peter really considered how old they both were.
"We spent a lot of time in Normandy. Helping out the British. The seasickness was, er, not the best thing."
"It sucked." Bucky growled. Steve glared and whacked him in the chest like his wife.
"But we persevered, we all had spirit and friendship-"
"Steve a lot of good men died. Like a lot of them." Bucky deadpanned.
Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, spreading ink on his neck.
"Uh. Sorry. Wait so um what about Hydra?"
Bucky stood up triumphantly. "Now you're getting to the good bits."
"Right well Hydra was a bunch of dic-"
"No Buck, we can't tell him about the classified stuff!"
Bucky fixed him with a serious glare. "Peggy is the classified stuff Stevie, she deserves to be remembered!"
He slid over to sit by Peter who looked at him with rapid interest, much to Bucky's joy.
Steve looked devastated and lowered his head, not uttering another word.
"See Stevie here is telling all about what The Man has approved for the public, but that's not the good stuff. You're gonna ace this project, son."
Peter listened in rapt attention until he had to ask. "What about the end of the war?"
Bucky froze. "Uh. That's not important." he waved a flippant hand.
Peter shrugged happily and jotted it all down, not minding the evenings they spent and the way his hands ached from the twenty essay length pieces he'd written.
"So Mr. Thompsons and Mr. Parkes project." Mr. Reed looked over his glasses as Peter rifled through his bag in a panic. He tried to breathe as he eliminated all possibilities. Locker? No. Bagpack, definitely not. In any of his books? No!.
He closed his eyes in defeat, a moment later he locked eyes with Mr. Reed as he realised Kitchen table? Yup.
"It seems, Mr. Parker, that you have failed to turn in a project."
Peter hunched his shoulders as Flash smirked smugly and hurled a spitball at Peter's head. He valiantly ignored his Spiderman reflexes and the gooey wad of paper hit him.
"I, um-"
Screams of simultaneous joy and fear from down the corridor cut him off from his explanations that he really had worked hard on his project, interviews and all-Oh god Bucky'd be so disappointed, not to mention Tony if Mr. Reed failed him for this- and the whole class stared towards the door in fascinated unison.
Despite Mr. Reeds paltry attempts to garner their attention, no one paid their flustered teacher any mind as a bulky figure crashed through the door, stumbling before righting himself and ignoring the arm shaped hole in the door.
He scanned the room and Bucky sighed in relief. "Peter. You forgot your project."
"Just who do you think you are?" Mr Reed demanded, puffing up his chest. Bucky raised an eyebrow and lowered his gaze to the open book on the weedy teacher's desk. He followed the emotionless gaze and swallowed.
"Sgt.. Barnes, sir. A-A pleasure-"
"Here, kid." He held the handwritten project out to Peter, his metal arm on full display, his eyes not leaving the quaking teacher.
Peter flushed with embarrassment as he slunked up to take it.
"Thanks Bucky. You really didn't have to come all the way up, I mean, how did you even find the classroom?"
Bucky grunted. "Wasn't easy. This place is a confusing shithole. Can't believe Stark lets you stay here, you could just sidle right off to that fancy place uh...MIT?"
"Uh yeah but I mean-"
"Now, now Sgt. Barnes I'll thank you to not insult our schools-"
"And I'll thank you to not fill these brats heads with a bunch of 'government approved lies'. " Bucky sneered, plucking the colourful history book from the vandalised desk and settled beside the American flag and looking at it speculatively.
Then he nodded. "Go sit down, Peter."
Peter did so, feeling excitement burning in his stomach. At least his life was never boring.
Bucky yanked the flag from its pole and twirled it expertly in his calloused hands.
He shoulder shoved Mr Reed out of the way and whoosed himself onto the desk.
"Right listen up kids. I hear you all worked real hard on these project. So….who wants to start?"
"Yes children, I'm sure Sgt. Barnes would love to hear your projects."
Mr Reed cleared his throat nervously.
Bucky jerked a hand in assent, ignoring the buzz as they gossiped that a real life avenger was going to look at their history projects!
He marched down to a red-faced Peters desk and swept the books off his desk in one fell swoop before perching himself there and boring holes into their eager faces.
"My grandfather fought in the 107th divsion during the war, he was a hero and all so I know everything about it!" He bragged, arrogance dripping from every word.
Buck chanced a look at Peter and caught him rolling his eyes with a very unPeterlike sneer.
He cocked his head towards the kid. That the Flash one? Peter nodded to his unspoken question and Bucky gave a sharpened grin.
"What was his name?" He cut in smoothly.
That put a spanner in Flash's works as he stuttered "W-what?"
"His. Name."
"Eugene Thompson, sir."
Bucky tilted his head to the side and hummed in thought, pausing and 'ooohing' for a long moment.
"Ah, Eugene. I remember Eugene."
Flash puffed up in pride before Bucky continued. "Yeah he was a right yellow bast…..gunsel. Turned tail and legged it the second it got rough."
Flash floundered and turned scarlett as he choked on air as the class giggled. He stalked towards Flash and pointed the flag at his cheek.
"W-well he, he got a medal!"
"Oh yeah?" Bucky arched an eyebrow and took the offending chunk of metal from a shaking Flash before sinking his teeth into it.
"Fake. Clearly a copy. You should do your research, lad. Alright who's next?"
The class continued like this, with Jerry Puttenmore only getting one line into his project before Bucky cut him off with a scowl. "Nonononono! You Joe Corn!."
He was saved a vigourous scolding by the blaring of the bell, though as the clambering children scrambled out of class,they yelled "Bye Sgt. Barnes, Thanks Sgt. Barnes!".
Peter lingered behind, not at all surprised when Bucky pulled him into a one armed hug, and ruffled his hair with his right hand.
"I think you got an A, kid."