Chapter 11:

Sam wasn't going to lie: he was monumentally disappointed when they went back to the bench two days later and Peter was nowhere to be found. And that "moment" they'd had, which was somehow really different from everything they'd done before. He was half-scared he'd ruined whatever friendship they'd had by leaving in the middle of Peter's nap for an Avengers emergency.

The logical part of his brain told him that that was absolutely and completely ridiculous. It's not like he could have just stayed for the sake of sentimentality and let his friends, and the various other Avengers who didn't really count as friends yet, go on the Hydra sting operation alone. Well, he could, but... Yeah, that's not something you did.

Despite the fact that he kept reassuring himself it was fine, everything was absolutely fine, he still made sure to jog by the bench the very next day, both in the morning, and in an impromptu evening jog. No luck. He almost felt tempted to leave a note stuck under the bench or something, but that was just ridiculous.

"He's fine!" Natasha had called after him when he went passed through the Avengers Rec floor to get a water bottle.

"Are you absolutely certain?" Sam had grumbled under his breath, and Natasha gave him a look. She didn't answer, though, so Sam took her down as a no.

Natasha and Steve occupied him for the rest of the next day, surprisingly with Hawke- Clint, as an add-on. Hanging around only for Natasha, but being a really nice guy about it. They sparred, played video games, and messed with each other the entire day, and Sam honestly kind of liked getting to know the other "normal" human on the team. Or at least the only other guy without superpowers. They did a nice job distracting him, and he barely thought of his worries until Clint asked if he could come with them the next time they visited Peter, to "see what this homeless kid was all about".

Sam said yes, of course. Honestly, who would say no? It's not like Hawkeye was rude or offensive, and Peter seemed to have handled Steve and Natasha well enough. Sam had even learned his name! That was nice to know.

And then another day passed without event, except for his morning jog past the bench, which Steve, Natasha, and Clint accompanied him for. Still, there was no luck, and Sam spent the rest of the day out with the three of them, desperately trying to distract himself from his building worry. There was no way to know if Peter was okay, he realized. His little friend could be dying in an alley right now and he wouldn't even know.

That night, it was hard to sleep. His mind kept running over all the dangers of being homeless and alone in New York, and how easy it would be for Peter to fall prey to such dangers. He knew Peter was capable, and he'd gone longer than this without seeing the kid, but that didn't mean that Sam couldn't be worried now.

He woke up late the next morning because of it, and sighed, resigned, as he clambered down the stairs. There were only four flights of stairs between his level and the Rec Floor, so he only took the elevator on mornings when he was feeling especially sluggish. He was slightly regretting his decision, though, as he started on the last flight of stairs between him and the Rec Floor.

Bruce, Darcy, Clint, Steve and Natasha were all gathered around the counter the Avengers ate around. Eating what looked like muffins, but you could never really be sure with this bunch. Clint was the first to notice him, and scooted over to make more room for Sam to sit on the stool between him and Darcy, as Natasha and him were crouched over a smart phone with Steve, probably showing him another internet video or something.

Sam sat down and snagged a blueberry muffin out of the box in the center of the counter, peeling back the wrapper and taking a small bite off the top.

Whatever Natasha and Clint were showing Steve ended with the larger blonde man making a disgusted sound and setting down his mostly-eaten muffin with finality, clearly not intending to eat the rest of it. Clint snagged it by the wrapper ant pulled it towards himself, openly snickering at Steve's disgusted expression.

"Pretty funny, right?" Clint asked, pulling a piece off of Steve's muffin and popping it into his mouth.

"The future is revolting." Steve murmured, setting his head down on the counter.

"The hell'd you show him?" Sam wondered, looking back and forth between the two superspies.

"You don't want to know." Steve groaned, before peeling his head up off the counter and looking towards him. "So, we going to check on Peter today?"

Sam shook his head, his heavy resignation returning back to him. "Nah, I woke up too late. The kid only hangs around the bench when he's sleeping, or just about to be. I don't know where he goes during the day, but I've never been able to spot him around New York when he wasn't on the bench."

"Wouldn't hurt to check." Natasha said, and shrugged when they all looked over at her. "Well, it didn't seem like the kid really had the best sleep schedule, and last time we saw him he was falling asleep at ten, looking like he'd been up all night. The very least it'll do is calm your worries a little, Wilson. I can feel your concern from all the way over here."

"I'm coming!" Clint exclaimed, snagging the last muffin from the table. "You guys normally bring him food, right?" He paused. "Hold on, I should probably switch out my hearing aid, this one's comfortable, but it doesn't work the best."

"Don't bother." Natasha said, pushing up from her stool and setting her hand on her hip. "He's mute, remember? No hearing necessary."

By now, Steve had stood up too, and Sam stared up at all three of them, squinting. "So, just like that? We're going. I don't get a say?"

"You know you want to," Steve said, giving him a facial expression that was something between a sincere smile and a smirk. Sam glowered at him for a few seconds before pushing up from the table, bringing his muffin along with him.

"Wow, this kid's gotta be something." Darcy said from where she was still sitting, drinking from a fancy wine glass full of orange juice.

"Don't tell me you're coming." Sam teased, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Ru~ude." She complained, taking a dainty sip from the wine glass. "Nah, I've only got five more minutes from breakfast before I have to shove a muffin down Jane's throat, so I'm booked. Bruce is gonna help me!"

"I'm really not." Bruce said calmly, not even bothering to look up from his book. Darcy huffed and crossed her arms, her elbow coming dangerously close to knocking the fancy wine glass off the counter. Sam winced, but calmed down when there was no smashing sound. He considered asking why she was drinking out of a wine glass when it was obvious there were several normal clean glasses available, but he was fairly certain the answer would be something like "because I can", so he kept his mouth shut.

Steve gently tugged him to the elevator, and when he stepped in, Natasha punched the button for the bottom floor. Sam stared at the lit elevator button for a few moments, and then tensed. "What- right now? I'm still in my pajamas!"

Natasha hummed, a smile flickering on her red-painted lips. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

Considering the fact that Sam was wearing soft pants with little Thor's Hammers on them, he found that hard to believe. Steve muffled a chuckle, while Clint openly snorted.

"Oh, shut up." Sam glowered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I got them on sale, it was a set."

"Yeah, they sell 'em pretty cheap in sets of six," Natasha chimed "innocently". "They have all of the Avengers, actually. Hey, look on the bright side, you'll probably be able to wear your own brand Falcon pajama pants pretty soon!"

"Am I supposed to ask how you know that, or just assume it's one of your hidden superpowers that you don't tell us about?" Sam asked dully, disregarding her second statement completely. She smiled at him with one side or her mouth but didn't answer beyond that. Sam kind of wanted to wring her neck, but also knew she'd probably kill him if he even bothered to think about trying.

The elevator dinged lightly, and the doors slid open to reveal an already bustling lobby. Sam shook his head resolutely. "Nuh-uh, no way am I getting out of this elevator dressed like this."

Natasha grabbed his arm and proceeded to make him do just that. Clint and Steve followed complacently. Not doing anything to help Sam at all, but both concealing smiles of amusement. Sam vowed he'd get back at both of them for it. He would have gotten back at Natasha too. Except he knew she'd probably get him back for that about ten times over, and it just wasn't worth it.

Sam stumbled along with them for a while longer, being dragged determinedly by Natasha, until they rounded the first corner and Sam saw that he probably wasn't getting back to change any time soon. It took him a moment before he regained his own feet, and then continued trudging beside Steve and pretending he didn't notice the weird looks they were receiving from passer-by. Whether the looks were because of Sam's getup or the fact that they were all Avengers, he wasn't sure. Maybe both?

It didn't take too long to reach the park, but it took longer than Sam would've liked. It just felt like they were wasting time, he guessed. Like they should sprint there, before it was too late, but it was /already/ too late, so what was the point? Causing a public spectacle, maybe?

It seemed like there were too many thoughts and worries floating around in his head, stuffed so full it was causing pressure on his skull. His head was pounding. He was starting to understand why Zeus took an axe to his head in that one myth.

Well, until they actually reached the bench. Then all of his thought processes screeched to a halt, because Peter was /there/. Asleep, of course, he was hardly anything else on the bench. But, past nine thirty in the morning?

Well, Sam supposed being homeless might cause a slight disruption in your sleep schedule. And nine thirty wasn't that preposterous to people who didn't get up at six every day to jog. Huh.

"Is that him?" Clint asked, turning to Natasha first. She nodded, and then looked over her shoulder to give Sam a smug smile. That's it, it was official; Natasha had hidden superpowers.

Steve stepped forward and knelt down next to the bench slightly, reaching one hand up to shake Peter's shoulder gently. Sam had a weird kind of revelation when looking at how damn small Peter looked next to Steve. God, he really was just a kid.

Well, maybe the "just" didn't quite fit. Living homeless for any amount of time was no small accomplishment. And it had to age somebody mentally a few years. Still, Sam felt an almost instinctual urge to protect this kid, he was just- augh! One fact Sam knew ever since his first mission in the army was that life was unfair, even to the best of people. /Especially/ to the best of people. He just wanted to try and make life a little less unfair for this kid, but he didn't- didn't know how.

He couldn't very well just pick Peter up off the street and take him back to Avengers Tower, especially because he seemed to be avoiding the CPS for whatever reason that Sam couldn't guess. Of course, there was also very little chance of Peter just following them home. Sure, Sam counted him as friend, but... It was just really complicated. And that wasn't even looking into the heaps and heaps of legal issues.

Peter had woken up, and was now looking at Clint with a confused expression. He looked to Sam for explanation, but his expression only got more confused as he noticed Sam's get up. He then looked around at the circle of adults around him, paused for a moment and then scooted over to the higher part of the bench so somebody could sit down next to him.

Natasha was the first to take the opportunity, sitting down on the other side of the bench and leaving a space for one of the remaining three men. Sam supposed that four people could fit if they all squished. But he didn't think it was a very nice move to squish Natasha, so he sat down on the ground next to Steve, on the higher side of the hill. Clint took the remaining space on the bench, and everybody paused for a moment before Natasha got up and Clint scooted down so she could sit in the middle. Having the only person who was a stranger to Peter in the ground sit the closest to him was maybe not the smoothest move.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment while Peter looked all of them over again, splitting most of his attention between Sam, the one he was most familiar with. And Clint, the least familiar with him, before Clint pressed his lips together and handed over the slightly smushed raspberry muffin he was holding over to Peter.

Peter made a happy face as he was handed the muffin. And then an even happier face as he took a small sample of the raspberry part of the muffin. Okay, so he liked raspberries. Sam made a little note in the back of his mind.

He wasn't entirely sure what to do in this situation, just like the last two times he'd come here. Peter, despite being unable to speak verbally, was actually fairly good at communicating nonverbally through body movement. His facial expressions were iffy, but he was getting better. Something was different with other people around, though. It kind of felt like Peter was more distant, though it was arguable if he had any evidence to actually support this because Peter had just met them the first time and the second time he was mostly asleep.

"This is Clint." He said, maybe a little too fast. His voice sounded more confident than he felt, and he allowed himself to fall into the comfortable rut of humor. "Don't make any bird jokes around him, he's sensitive."

"Look who's talking." Clint shot back in a friendly manner, and the tension in his chest eased just a little bit. It dissolved almost completely though, when Peter (after looking like he was steeling himself a little) put his hands together and made a flapping motion. It was hardly a joke out of context, but that didn't stop Sam from laughing a little and lightly patting his shin in appreciation. That had helped considerably.

"Okay, well, like he said, I'm Clint." Clint said. "And I love bird jokes, for your information, so please keep a quota of at least two bird jokes in each conversation you have with me, or I will be forced to make the bird jokes instead."

"And his jokes are all awful." Natasha cut in, smiling slightly. "So you really don't want that to happen."

"Screw you, my jokes rock." Clint rebuffed, not even blinking an eye. He leaned on Natasha and tilted his head up to look at the sky. "Hold on, let me think of one."

"No, please lord, no." Steve joked, grinning fully.

"Hmm, can't think of any." Clint mused. "I must really duck at this."

Natasha groaned and tilted her head back, before looking over at Peter and whispering in a conspiratorial fashion, "Get ready, once he gets rolling with this there is no stopping him."

"What? I guess you want me to sparrow you all the bird puns, then?"

"That one kind of sucked." Steve commented.

"What you aren't eagle to hear my puns?" Clint asked in a faux-hurt tone. "Well, this is kind of hawkward."

"Stop it." Natasha groaned, though her tone betrayed a certain fondness.

"Well," Sam said, giving Clint a devious look. "Toucan play at this game."

Natasha and Steve groaned in tandem while Clint gave him a delighted look. Peter kicked him lightly, but when Sam looked up he could see Peter fighting a bright smile off his face. Well, that settled it. More bird puns it was.

"Owl be damned!" Clint shouted, beaming, and then it really was on. Sam found himself enjoying it more than he probably should of, but it was over too soon when Clint managed to make a falcon pun. How was he supposed to ignore a pun using his own superhero name? That just wasn't fair.

"Victory!" Clint yelled, and pumped a fist in the air.

"It's finally over." Steve said in an exaggerated relieved tone, throwing his arms up too. Natasha pumped her fist half-heartedly, checking her phone with her other hand.

"Yay." she said in a mostly flat voice.

Clint leaned over, pushing on her shoulder, and then made an amused expression. "Are you playing Temple Run?"

"Yup." She responded, leaning into Peter to avoid the weight Clint was putting on her. Peter seemed kind of stuck, like he didn't know what to do in this situation. He scooted over a little, pushing himself further up the bench, and leaned away a bit. Sam couldn't help a small chuckle, and Steve joined his laughter.

This was exactly what he wanted at this moment, he realized. The past two and a half months, the past four years, really, had been a cluster of confusion, grief, guilt, and obligation. His life had been at its peak, or at least he'd thought so. He was on the experimental wingpack squad, assisting his country, and had strong friendships with the other three of his teammates. He didn't have the highest rank or the best pay, but he'd been happy. Then the incident had happened, two of his teammates were dead and the other, along with himself, was diagnosed with severe PTSD from witnessing their deaths firsthand. Sam had been taken off the battlefield and sent back home, while the wing program was discontinued with a 'very dangerous' brand, and his only remaining teammate cut all ties with him.

The first year Sam had just moped around, living shallowly off his veteran compensation checks in his crappy apartment. Where the sink never quite stopped dripping and the carpet smelled perpetually of cat pee. He had too many violent flashbacks from the day to hold down a job. After just shy of year, though, he was searching through loaves of bread in the supermarket when he overheard some asshole complaining about his veteran step-brother, and how he was a lazy no-good slacker. Sam had snapped, screamed his head off at the douchebag, and been temporarily banned from that particular store. Standing on the pavement outside the store, and image of the two mangled corpses of his past teammates flashed through his head, and he broke. Two weeks later, he put his psychology degree to use by signing up for volunteer work with fellow veterans.

Two years later he'd met Captain America while jogging, and then again at the place where he volunteered. A few days later Captain America showed up at his door with a redheaded lady Sam didn't even know the name of then. And extended the offer to fly again. Sam couldn't even remember what he'd been thinking when he'd said yes, but he felt like it had maybe been verging on hysterical. The next three days were the most exhilarating and terrifying days of his life, all in one. And then Sam had been extended the offer to join the Avengers living at Stark Tower, doing the things that Iron Man did already, but as a team, protecting the world, but mostly New York, from whatever came at them.

Living in a Tower full of strangers—and not just any strangers, strangers with superpowers—had been scary, to say the least. He'd felt out of his element, almost chickened out at least thrice a day, and suddenly being in an unfamiliar city wasn't helping anything. He'd been trying to get to know the area around the Tower when he'd run across Peter, his first friend here outside of Steve. Sam had been floundering and Peter had helped surface him somehow, and between Steve and Natasha and Peter (and Clint) Sam was finally starting to get used to life again, and sitting here all together like this was, just, everything he wanted right now.

And then Peter tensed up, like somebody had suddenly jerked on all of his puppet strings. Clint and Steve stopped messing around, and Natasha looked up from her phone. So that everybody was staring at Peter as he swiveled his head around, eyes jumping from one object to the next. He looked alert—no, he looked panicked.

"What's wr—" Sam started to ask, but then suddenly Peter head snapped forward and his limbs blurred for a moment before Sam heard a gunshot and his head slammed against the concrete.