Chapter 4

The first time Peter was bullied, Peter had the sunglasses his uncle Tony had bought him high on his nose, hood up on his hoodie when he walked into the tower. His slouching posture immediately caught everyone's attention, but luckily the glasses hid what he wanted to hide. He gave a wide, apologetic smile at the worried looks and a dramatic wince so his family wouldn't worry.

"I have a really bad headache, the light was making it worse. I'm just going to go to bed." he said, and he got a round of nods, everyone watching him silently as he left the room.

"Think he's okay?" Tony asked, frowning at the door, but Steve was frowning too.

"I'll check on the kid. We all know I'm the best cook here if he decides he wants food." Clint said easily, rolling to his feet from where he'd been sprawled on the floor in front of Natasha's seat on the couch. He had a suspicion on why Peter had hidden his face, and it wasn't that he had a headache. Of course, he wouldn't give that away just yet. Steve just nodded, frown still in place, and Natasha quickly moved to distract him, having had a similar suspicion to Clint.

Clint gave a sharp rap on Peter's bedroom door and held the tell-tale shuffle of things being hidden before the kid's voice called out.

"Come in." Clint slipped inside the unlit room, but didn't miss the small sliver of light coming from under the bathroom door.

"Hey kid, how ya feeling? I was wonderin' if you're hungry."

"I'm okay, thanks though uncle Clint." Peter said, voice muffled by the blanket he'd pulled up practically to his hairline.

"Right," with an easy leap, Clint was next to his nephew yanking the blanket down and grabbing his chin, uncovering his face and revealing the dark bruise around his left eye. "How long did you think you could hide a shiner like this one?" Peter scowled, yanking his chin away, but there were tears in his eyes.

"It's not a big deal." he muttered, but Clint just rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you say, kid. I know what makes a shiner like that, and it's a fist meeting someone's face. Given and received plenty of them myself. Of course, that also means I know how to make it less obvious." that had a sliver of hope entering the kid's brown eyes and Clint just heaved a sigh. "I'll show you how as long as you make me a deal." Peter looked wary, but finally nodded. "Don't lie about it next time." Peter made a face but Clint just scoffed. "Don't look at me like that, kid. If you want me to show you how to cover it, you gotta be willing to walk in with your chin up. You've seen us all with plenty of bruises." Peter winced at the memory but slowly nodded.

"Okay." Clint smiled, and reached out to ruffle Peter's hair.

"Come on, kid. I'll show you my secret."

The next day, when Peter came home, only his Pa was in the common room, and something about the way he was standing told Peter that he'd been waiting for him.

"Hey Pa." he greeted, and held his breath as his Pa turned towards him, eyes widening in surprise. Despite the fact that his uncle Clint had shown him how to cover the black eye, Peter had decided that hiding it made the bullies win, so he'd stopped hiding it.

"Peter, what happened?" his Pa was right in front of him in seconds, but Peter just shrugged, lifting his chin.

"I fell." he said, almost daring his Pa to argue, but Steve just stared at his son for a moment before sighing, giving a shake of his head.

"I was clumsy at your age." he said, and Peter just swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

"Yeah, must be osmosis." Peter joked, and though Steve didn't laugh, he gave a tight smile, clasping Peter's shoulder.

"Come on. Your aunt really wants pizza and I thought we could pick the place." Peter just nodded, dropping his bag beside the couch before falling into step with his Pa, and though part of him was glad his Pa had let it drop, part of him wished his Pa hadn't knowingly let him lie.

The first time Peter saw any real expression from the strange man was when he turned 12 and had convinced his Papa he was old enough to walk home. He was walking down the street when the familiar stranger fell into step with him, but when he got one look at Peter's face he was dragging him out of sight from any passerby's.

"Who did this to you?" the demand was furious, surprisingly gentle fingers taking stock of the visible bruises on Peter's face. The bright blue eyes Peter recognized so well were worried even while they promised violent retribution. Peter shook his head, scowling so he wouldn't cry, but the black eye stung, as did his split lip.

"Just a kid from school." he said with a shrug, but when he tried to look away the man's grip tightened so he couldn't. "It's okay." he said softly, because he recognized the violence he saw in the man's eyes; he saw it sometimes in his aunt Tasha's eyes, and his uncle Clint's too. He didn't see it often with the rest of his family, or even his Papa, but he knew what it meant. "It isn't that bad." the man gave a low snarl and Peter blinked in surprise as he watched the man reign in his temper.

"Give. Me. A. Name." it was an order and so Peter just sighed, giving in. What was the worse that could happen?

"Stewart Duncan. He's in my class." Peter said, and the man gave a sharp nod but his grip softened again and Peter relaxed.

"I think I was on J's." he began then, and watched the smirk fight for it's place in the blue eyes with the burning anger that still rested there. "So how about Jonah? Jonas? Julian? Johnathan? Jordan?Justin? Joshuah? Jim? Jackson? Joe? Jacob? Jude? Jasper? Jason? Jace? Jeremy? James?" the man stiffened and Peter perked up. "Is it James? Could that be your name?" the man shrugged but he didn't look happy.

"I don't like it." he muttered, and Peter grinned.

"That's okay! We can give you a nickname." the man just looked at him, and Peter rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, ducking to avoid the anger that flared in the man's eyes thanks to the bruises. "Lots of people have nicknames. Usually they have to do with something the person's done. Like my uncle Tony calls my Papa 'Cap' a lot, because his superhero name is Captain America." the man was frowning now, or at least his eyes were, but Peter just pushed on. "And I call one of my aunt's aunt Tasha because it was easier to say when I was little and she didn't make me stop when I got older. Nicknames are like – they're to prove you're really close with someone. Good friends. Only people you like are allowed to call you by your nickname."

"Do you have one?" the man asked, looking uncomfortable now, and Peter looked embarrassed.

"No. People at school just call me Parker if they're boys, and if a girl does actually talk to me she just calls me Peter."

"Parker?"

"Yeah. That's my name. Peter Parker. My Papa said if I wanted I could change my name to his when I was older, but my biological parents names were Parker." he shrugged, and now he too was uncomfortable. "I guess that's kind of weird."

"It's – fine." the words seemed difficult to say, and the man's eyes were frowning again. "I'm a soldier." he said, and Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm not calling you soldier." the man's eyes smirked again briefly, before he was leaning against a wall in thought.

"They call me the Winter Soldier." the name rang a bell in Peter's memory, but he shrugged it off.

"Well, I guess I could call you Winter. But it still seems kinda weird." Peter said, and the man just gave him a bland look. "But it's better than soldier." Peter admitted, and then beamed. "Alright then, Winter. You gonna walk me the rest of the way home?" the man rolled his eyes and Peter counted it as another win. The more often they saw each other, the more the man thawed out, and he supposed that was a pretty accurate analogy since he was supposed to call him Winter now.

The next day at school, they were all told to stay home. A child had died, and it wasn't hard for Peter to figure out just who it had been. His Papa, always one to worry, had looked into it, but apparently it just looked like an accident. Wanting to confirm his theory, Peter asked his Papa who it was, and when his Papa sighed but gave in, Peter's theory was confirmed.

"Stewart Duncan." Peter just nodded, wondering if he should tell his Papa what he knew, but he decided against it. Winter had just been protecting him and he didn't want to get him in trouble. Sometimes he wished his Papa would react how Winter would, because whenever Peter brushed off his bruises as accidents, his Papa looked at him like he knew he was lying but never pushed it. It had felt nice to see someone get so angry on his behalf, it balanced out his Papa, and Peter wondered if that's what it was like to have two parents; to balance each other out. He shrugged the thought off because he knew his Papa wasn't interested in relationships, but even though he pushed the thought away, he couldn't get rid of it all together.

When he next saw Winter, his bruises had healed, and the man fell into step with him during his walk home just like he'd done the last time.

"You know, you can't just kill every kid who beats me up." Peter noted, and the man just made a rough sound in the back of his throat. Peter looked over, unimpressed. "Seriously. If you killed everyone who beat me up my school's population would be seriously depleted."

"Big words, kid." the man said, and Peter scowled, but upon seeing the smirk in the man's eyes let it go.

"I – I appreciate it. I know you did it to protect me." Peter said, and though the man had stiffened, he didn't leave his place by Peter's side. "But next time, maybe you can just scare them really bad, k Winter?" the man's eyes couldn't be described as anything but amused, and Peter found it relieving. He'd hated Stewart, but it didn't help the overwhelming guilt he felt for the fact the boy was dead because of him.

"Whatever you say, kid." Peter wondered if he should fight it, but then he thought better of it and his mind whizzed for something else to talk about. Then he remembered the invention his uncle Tony had let him start working on and his eyes brightened with excitement.

"Uncle Tony finally let me start using his lab to make stuff." Peter said, brimming with excitement, and the man looked over, remembering that the boy had complained when he was younger about not being allowed in the exciting lab. His scraped up the details in his mind the boy had given him on his uncle, and found himself frowning.

"Your uncle. Tony Stark." Peter blinked but then nodded, grin nearly splitting his face.

"Yeah, that's right. I wasn't sure you'd remember." his voice was soft but endlessly pleased, and once again, the man felt a warmth in his chest, one he didn't quite understand, didn't remember, but still felt familiar. He let the boy's voice wash over him as he told him about his newest invention, and wondered once again just what it was about this boy that drew him in. He knew that there had originally been something familiar about the small bony body, but now as the boy grew up, still small but more lean than bony, that old familiarity was gone and replaced with a new one that belonged to this boy alone. When he had to disappear, he ruffled the boy's hair, his left arm whirring from where it was hidden beneath his clothes, and felt the buzz in his pocket that told him he'd been given a new location. He stilled in the shadows, pausing before he reached for the device, and when he read the place, he pulled anything that the boy made him feel behind a blank mask. His memories hadn't been wiped in over a decade now, and he intended to keep it that way. Despite the fact that he knew he functioned better when he was a clean slate (he'd overheard the doctor's talking when he'd gone for repairs on his arm) he would fight tooth and nail to never forget this boy.