The best part about the jet ride was watching Bucky scrutinize every facet of the plane. He'd never been in a private jet before, and he was particularly weirded out by the lack of pilot. He kept saying he could fly better than a computer.

"I promise, Tony has us in good hands. He wants us to get there safe, remember?" I said, watching Bucky pace from one end of the plane to the other.

"No, he wants you to get there safe. I'm pretty sure he'd toss me into the propellers if he could," Bucky countered. "He'll probably shoot a hole in my chest the moment he sees me."

"He won't do any of that. He knows that if you aren't safe then I'm not helping him," I said, standing up.

"And I know that if you don't help that kid-even if Tony kills me-I'll come back from the grave and strangle you," Bucky said, pausing his pacing and pointing an angry finger between my eyes. "Like Tony said, you two are practically the same person. I remember fighting him: I felt like a kid in Brooklyn again, listening to him run his mouth like he couldn't get hurt. Made me think of the first time we met, to be honest."

"Oh god, don't remind me," I said, giving a laugh and crossing my arms. Bucky smiled slyly.

"You never did know when to shut up. You had too much heroism for that tiny little body," Bucky said, sidling up to me and resting his forearms on my shoulders. "'I can do this all day,' said the 90 pound asthmatic with a couple quarters in his pocket."

"Ha! Not so little anymore, I could beat those bullies into next week if I had this body back then," I said. Bucky hummed in agreement, running his cool metal hand (a kind gift from Shuri) down my torso, and he laughed as I flexed my abs so he could feel the muscles better.

"I have to say though," he said, and he gave me a sharp poke in the stomach that made me yelp. "It's way more satisfying to save the skinny kid from Brooklyn."

I laughed and circled my arms around his hips, giving him a kiss and touching my forehead to his.

"Aww, c'mon, are you saying you're not a fan of this new body?" I teased.

"Oh no I am definitely a fan," he said. "Very much a fan, yes. But saving the tiny idiot who doesn't know when to quit? That shit made me feel like someone out of one of those fantasy books you love so much."

I laughed and gave him another kiss.

"My hero," I said.

The jet landed just in time, being confined in that space for over twenty-four hours was starting to make me go bizerk. Bucky was oddly calm, but I suppose he's used to small spaces. He told me once that the room he slept in while under control of HYDRA was too small for him; he had to tiptoe around his bed to get to the door. A private jet was definitely bigger than that.

When I stepped out of the plane, the sun shone directly in my eyes, and for a moment I was blinded before I held up my hand to shield my face. In the few seconds it took my eyes to adjust, I spotted Happy standing next to a black car. Bucky and I made our way over there, lugging our suitcases behind us.

"Hey Happy," I said. "Thanks for coming all this way to get us."

"What did you expect? Did you think Tony was gonna make you get a cab?" Happy said gruffly. Yep, same old Happy. He took our bags, insisting almost angrily that we get in the car. Upon entering we saw that the window between the front and back seats was closed.

"That's Happy, huh?" Bucky asked after shutting the door.

"Yep," I said.

"Hmm. He's nothing like the dwarf," Bucky said. I snorted.

"Dork," I said. Happy started the car a few moments later and we were off. Bucky and I looked out our windows at the city as it flashed by, our hands laced together between us. We passed a few restaurants along the way, and I almost wished Happy would stop at one. I wasn't quite hungry per se, but the idea of eating definitely wasn't unwelcome. But we didn't, and soon the thought was driven far from my mind as we entered the garage of Stark Tower.

And there he was. Tony. Waiting there like the months we've been apart never even happened. He even had a soft smile on his face.

I stepped out of the car, Bucky following close behind. We attempted to grab our luggage but Happy insisted on taking it up for us, saying Tony wanted to talk to me as soon as possible. Only Tony would be impatient enough that he couldn't wait two minutes while we put away our stuff, I suppose.

"Well if it isn't the Star Spangled Man With A Plan," Tony said, clapping me on the back and blatantly ignoring Bucky.

"Hey Ton'," I said warmly. "Couldn't wait for us to get settled could you?"

"Nope, the kid's waiting for ya, can't wait another second," Tony said.

"Woah-Wait I'm meeting him today? Now?" I said. Tony cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Well yeah, Capsicle. What, did you think you were gonna hide from him until you were ready?"

"I-No-But-"

"Well then there's no problem! Now c'mon, there's a few things I have to tell you," he said, starting off at a brisk walk.

"I-Alright," I said, deciding not to start an argument. Last time that happened, the Avengers broke up. Bucky followed me, silent as ever.

"First off, Peter is very sensitive, you can't raise your voice too much, he'll get anxious. Don't make any sudden movements or loud noises. Also, don't stand between him and a doorway, and don't close any of the blinds on the windows, he hates feeling like he doesn't have a way out. If he starts to look worried or uncomfortable just tell him it's okay and that he can come get me if he needs me, alright? Oh, and he's just had one of his Hourlies, but if he gets hungry again while you two are talking, do not tell him to wait until you're done talking, just come out and tell me okay? And please don't comment on how much he does or doesn't eat, he's very tense about that-"

"Tony," I said. He glanced backwards at me, and I could see the worry knitted into his features. "Believe it or not, I know how to work with people who have some pretty severe trauma." Bucky squeezed my hand and I squeezed back.

"And-" I continued, "-do you really think that I, the one who went hungry as a kid just like he did, am going to tell him to wait to eat? Or comment on him like that?"

Tony sighed, crossing his arms and covering his mouth with his hand as he thought.

"I know, I know, sorry, I should just, just let you do your thing, it's just…" he trailed off, and when he looked up again I swear his eyes were shining a little. "I don't want him to get hurt again, especially in a place that's supposed to be safe for him."

"Of course!" I said. "Of course, yes, that's completely fair. But you don't have to worry so much, I can already see that you've been doing everything you can to help him. You even called me, and if that doesn't show how much you care about this kid, I don't know what does."

Tony, nodded and took a deep sigh before walking again, turning into the elevator.

"He also likes hugs. They make him feel safe, he says. He's always liked physical touch, my guess is he's a bit touch-starved, actually," Tony said.

I noticed Bucky react subtly, glancing up at Tony, before quickly staring at the floor again, with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Thanks Tony," I said. "I promise, you really don't have to worry, we'll be fine. You just have to let go for now. Go relax while I talk to him. Nothing will happen if you leave him with me for an hour or so."

"You're asking me to relax? I may have changed a bit since you've seen me Spangles, but not that much," Tony said with a nervous chuckle and a shake of his head. I smiled, then clapped his back as we stepped out of the elevator.

"Just leave it to me for now," I said. Tony gave a small smile, then turned and called down a hallway leading to what looked like two bedrooms.

"Underoos! I got someone here who wants to meet you!"

"Coming!" Peter said. It was only then that I realized I had only ever seen him suited up, I had no idea what he looked like.

But even though I technically had no expectations, I was a little surprised when a skinny little kid bounced out from around the corner, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. I was expecting someone a little bigger, and a bit more coordinated considering how well he fought. But, Tony did say he's been malnourished for a long time, so I suppose he wouldn't be very big, would he?

But despite his small frame and general clumsiness, he somehow looked like one of the happiest people I'd ever met. He had chocolate brown hair that grew in gentle, slightly messy curls, and eyes of the same color. His skin was pale but flushed with life, and his smile was kind and excited.

It seemed to take him a moment to register what he was seeing, but once he did, his mouth dropped open and his eyes flew wide.

"Cap-Cap-Captain America!?" he sputtered. I laughed at the disbelieving look on his face. "Oh my god-Captain America! Hi, uh, what-what're you doing here? Wait are you gonna fight Mr. Stark again? 'Cuz my suit's still in the lab, I can't fight until the webshooters are fully upgraded-"

"Woah, no no no, we're not fighting, kid," Tony said. "And if we were, you aren't allowed to fight yet, so no webshooting for you, even when they're done upgrading."

Peter huffed in frustration and I took the moment to speak.

"Tony's right, we're not here to fight. I'm actually here to help you," I said. Peter blinked confusedly, and glanced at Tony for clarification.

"Remember a couple days ago, when you asked how we were going to solve your problem?" he said. "And I said I knew someone who could help?"

"Yeah, you said we had stuff in common and that you two were… arguing…" Peter said, frowning. Then, it seemed to click in his head because his eyes went wide again, and he pointed at me while looking at Tony. "Wait-He's gonna-Captain America is gonna help me!?"

"Sure am," I said. He looked back at me, seemed to remember who he was pointing at, and quickly put down his hand, before then again putting it up, asking for a handshake.

"I'm-I'm Peter by the way," he said. I shook his hand, again surprised by the strength of his grip.

"Call me Steve. Cap is good too, whichever you like," I said. "Why don't we head somewhere quiet? Is your room a good place?" I asked.

"Y-yeah, that's a good place," he said.

"Alright then, lead the way," I said. I started to follow him until I realized I was still holding Bucky's hand. I motioned for Peter to keep going, then turned to face him.

"I think I should talk with him alone, Buck," I said. "You alright to stay out here?"

"Oh, right, yeah of course," Bucky said, glancing hesitantly over his shoulder. "He is definitely gonna kill me," he whispered.

"No, he won't. Just go find your room, grab something to eat, take a nap, watch tv, do whatever. I think Tony is content with ignoring you, I doubt he'll start anything. He'll warm up to you eventually, it'll just take some time," I said. "You two are similar you know, never know when to relax."

Bucky scoffed, then squeezed my hand before walking away. I turned and walked into Peter's room.

For the first twenty minutes we didn't even talk about his problem, as Peter had wanted to know anything and everything about the time I was born in. He asked about the music, the clothes, the people, life in the army, everything. I'd never met someone so interested in the past; most people I met were more fascinated with the future.

He sat with his back against the headboard, while I sat against the wall, my feet going over the side of the bed. Peter had his arms wrapped around a plush red pillow, his chin resting on top of it as he continued to ask questions.

"So, how did you meet Sergeant Barnes?" Peter asked. I smiled.

"Oh gosh, I met him when I was twelve? Thirteen? Something like that, but he saved me from some bullies trying to steal my money. This was before the serum of course, so I was a skinny little asthmatic kid who didn't know how to keep my mouth shut."

"You had asthma too!? I had asthma before the spider bite!" Peter said excitedly.

"Really? No kidding?" I said.

"Yeah! I had glasses too, but I didn't need them anymore after I got my powers," he said. "So he saved you from the bullies? That's really nice of him."

"Yep. Bought me dinner afterwards too, best food I think I've ever had. I hadn't eaten in days back then, of course," I said. Peter didn't respond so I looked up at him.

"Mr. Stark said that you went through a similar thing I did," he said, starting to fiddle with his sleeves. "I… I didn't think he meant like that."

"I see," I said. "Well, Tony said you and I are similar in lots of ways, not just having gone hungry. He said you were really brave, and kind, and you have that rigid sense of justice, all just like me."

Peter blushed, hugging the pillow closer to his chest.

"He said that because we're so similar, I can help you in a lot of ways that he says he couldn't do as well himself. So that's what I'm here to help you with," I said, and I rested my hand on his leg comfortingly. Remembering what Tony said about how he liked contact, I left it there.

"I grew up during what you guys call now the Great Depression. There were a lot of people out of a job back then, my family included. My dad died when I was six, apparently he was abusive to my mom and I but I don't remember much of that, and my mom died of tuberculosis when I was eighteen, but she'd been sick ever since I was little. She said she always felt bad that I inherited her frailness. Since she was too sick to work, I had to try and find a job, which was damn near impossible, especially for a weak kid like me. I ended up doing any random odd jobs I could find, just to try and keep my mom alive."

Peter listened quietly as I went on, looking at my hand on his ankle idly.

"So, you can imagine that I went hungry a lot. Part of the reason I was so sick all the time was because I didn't eat enough, and I didn't eat enough because I was sick all the time and no one would hire me. It was just a big, miserable cycle," I said. "But then I met Bucky, and things got better."

"They did?" Peter said, his eyes lighting up.

"Oh yeah. Well, our situation didn't really get better, but I finally had a friend to go through it all with. I'd never had a friend before him. Having Bucky around made everything ten times better than it would've been alone, even when my mom died," I said. "It was in the army, though, that I started a habit that followed me to the twenty-first century."

"A habit? What habit?" Peter asked. I gave him a soft smile.

"Hiding food," I said.

Peter's eyes snapped up to meet mine, his jaw dropping open slightly. Then he hugged the pillow tighter to his chest, hiding his nose.

"I didn't want to starve again, so I prepared for the moment when that might happen by hiding food for later. And to be honest, it was a good idea at the time."

Peter looked up at me in confusion.

"Why?" he asked from behind the pillow.

"Well, after I joined the army, I got dosed with a super soldier serum. It gave me super strength, stamina, agility, got rid of all the sickness in my body. But it also gave me an enhanced metabolism, one very similar to yours," I said.

Peter's eyes lit up and his grip on the pillow loosened.

"But just after I was dosed, the doctor who was supposed to help me afterwards was shot and killed. So, nobody knew what my needs were, not even me. At least until I woke up from the ice. So I got the same rations as everyone else, but by saving and hiding some of the food I got, I was able to make it last longer so I didn't practically starve to death between rations. And of course, I had higher stamina than everyone else, so nobody suspected a thing since I didn't look or act like anything was wrong."

"Why didn't you ask for more food?" Peter said, looking deeply concerned.

"Well… I didn't think I deserved it. There was always someone else who needed it more, someone injured, an older soldier, a younger soldier, a nurse, a civilian, there was always someone who had it worse off than me, and who needed the extra food more than I did. Not once did I think to ask for extra rations. Even if I was up all night with hunger pains, even when I felt faint and passed out. It just wasn't a possibility," I said.

"Oh."

"And like I said, that habit followed me through the ice. When I woke up, I lived in an apartment for a little while and then moved into the compound. And I swear, I'm still constantly surprised by the sheer amount of food we have now. It took me a while to get out of the habit, but by the time I moved to the compound it wasn't nearly as bad as it used to be. And while in the compound I got better and better, until the only times I really hid food were after particularly difficult missions. At those times it was like a comfort thing, something that made me feel safe after feeling especially unsafe during a mission."

"You got better?" Peter said, looking hopeful.

"Yeah, lots better. I can't even remember the last time I hid food now," I said with a smile. "And… Tony told me you hide food too."

Peter looked away, again gripping the pillow tighter to his chest.

"Which of course is why I'm here. I want to help you solve that problem."

It was a moment or so before he looked back at me, and another moment before he spoke.

"How?" he asked cautiously.

"Well I tried a few different things. They didn't all work for me, but the ones that did helped a lot. But I think one of the biggest things that helped me was knowing why I hid food. Do you know why?"

Peter nodded.

"Me 'n Mr. Stark talked about it. I'm scared it'll get taken away, so I have to hide it so I don't…" he trailed off, giving a small shake of his head. "But um… there's another reason, but I didn't tell Mr. Stark."

"Why?" I asked.

"He was already really worried about me. I didn't wanna make him more worried. I should've told him, but I was scared," Peter said, clutching the pillow so tight I was worried it would tear.

"It's okay. I can explain whatever it is to him if you want, that way you don't have to," I said gently. He loosened his hold on the pillow in relief.

"Thanks," he whispered. "I… I know I'm not starving anymore. But, sometimes it's hard for me to tell. Sometimes I panic when I get hungry. I panic and I think I'm-you know, starving, again, and then I save my food because I think it will help me stop panicking next time. But it doesn't."

I nodded silently as he continued.

"I don't know why I couldn't tell Mr. Stark that. I just-I didn't wanna freak him out, I didn't want him to think… I don't know what I didn't want him to think. I didn't want him to know. I thought maybe I could fix that bit by myself," he said. "But I think I was okay with telling you cuz… well you know this stuff. Mr. Stark doesn't know this stuff."

"And that's exactly why he called me. He knew that there were some things that I could help you with that he couldn't, especially things to do with your enhanced metabolism, and hiding food, and all of the things that come with both of those. And now that we know why you hide food, we can get on to how to help with that!"

Peter grinned, almost excitedly, and resituated himself in his seat so as to pay closer attention.

"But before I tell you, can you tell me about your experiences? What have you and Tony tried?" I asked.

Peter thought for a moment, and straightened up slightly, so his face wasn't as hidden behind the pillow.

"How much did Mr. Stark tell you about my Aunt May?" he asked.

"He said your home life was really rough, and that you got kicked out and spent a week on the streets. He said you were starving and exhausted when he took you in," I said. "He… actually didn't say anything about an Aunt."

Peter nodded, then opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off.

"You don't have to tell me what went on at home," I said. "You don't have to tell me that if you don't want to, it's okay if you want to keep that to yourself-"

"I think I should," Peter interrupted. "It'll… help you see how to help me right? I'm okay with telling you. You and the other Avengers are nice."

I smiled, and he gave me a small smile back before beginning.

"Mr. Stark says Aunt May was abusive, but I didn't really see it until I left. I knew she was different, I knew she could be mean, but I didn't put those two together until she kicked me out. She was really controlling, Mr. Stark said she was manipulative. She had a lot of rules: no speaking unless spoken to, no tv unless she turned it on, no questions, no sleeping until she said so, don't get out of bed until she says I can, no friends over, all sorts of stuff. But one of the biggest ones was that I couldn't eat until she said I could, and then I wasn't allowed to eat anything more than what she gave me."

My nerves turned to ice while my blood started to boil. If I were standing up I think my knees and arms would be shaking with anger.

"So… when she did let me eat I always saved a bit for later. And I would eat at school, and whenever she wasn't in the house. But…" He trailed off, and a slightly confused look crossed his face.

"She wasn't bad all the time you know. She could be really, really sweet sometimes. She always apologized after she hurt me. She would give me things, my computer, money for Mr. Delmar's, letting me do the 'Stark Internship'. But… even though she apologized, she did the same bad things over and over again, but I always said that it was okay because she apologized every time. Somehow, my brain twisted on itself and said 'who cares if she didn't let you out of bed for two days, she took you out to your favorite restaurant to say she's sorry, and let you eat all the food you wanted. She's getting better, see?'"

"She didn't let you out of bed for two days?" I said, feeling my voice start to shake. Peter opened his mouth, then shut it again. I could see tears welling in his eyes.

"I don't even remember what I did wrong."

His words hung in the air for a moment, like an echo in a dark and empty cave.

Then, quite suddenly, it seems I lost control of my limbs. Two seconds ago I was just sitting there, and then I had my arms curled tightly around him, Peter giving a small yelp of surprise. Not a second later he hugged me back, hiding his face in my collarbone.

He was hugging me quite lightly, as though worried he would hurt me. I suddenly remembered that he normally hugs people who don't have superstrength, so he tries to be careful.

"Heh, you can hug me more, Queens, I'm not fragile like everyone else," I said. I heard Peter take a sharp inhale, then he squeezed me tighter, and I pulled him so I could lean against the wall again while still hugging him tightly.

We sat like that together for a moment, but my heart started to race as I realized Peter was trembling. Crying.

"Peter?" I said, pulling away.

"No, no don't stop please," he squeaked, hugging me even tighter.

"Okay," I said. "Are you okay buddy?"

"Mhmm," he said in a wobbling voice. "I-I'm just really happy. I've felt alone for so long, but since Mr. Stark helped me and even just the hour I've spent with you… I don't think I've ever felt happier in my life."

I smiled sadly and rubbed his back.

"I'm glad you're happy now. And it's only going to get better, you know. Soon we're gonna move to the compound, and then you'll get to meet all the other Avengers, and then of course you'll be able to be Spider-Man again!" I said. "You can only go up."

"That's good. Up is good," Peter said. He let me go, but leaned on my arm as he wiped the tears off his face. "Sorry, I kind of cry a lot, it's probably annoying," he said.

"Nope, not annoying at all," I said. "It's okay to cry, and I don't care how often you do it. I cry sometimes. Same with Bucky."

"Really? Oh, and speaking of Sergeant Barnes-"

"You can call him Bucky kid. Sergeant Barnes is a bit of a mouthful isn't it?"

"Oh, ha, yeah a bit. But, can I ask you one more thing? About Bucky?" Peter said tentatively.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Are you and him together?" he asked.

"Yep!" I said happily. "Since 1936, before I joined the military. I asked him out a few months after my mom died. I took him out to dinner at the same place he took me when he saved me from those assholes. I made sure I paid for everything, just like he did that day."

Peter grinned and I ruffled his hair.

"So, do you want me to show you some of the things that helped me now? Or if you want we can do that later, either way is alright with me," I said.

"Right now is okay," Peter said. He started to get off the bed, but he turned back and mumbled, "Thanks for hugging me. It was nice."

"Haha, no problem kid, Tony mentioned that you liked hugs. I like them too, Bucky hugs me all the time," I said with a smile.

"Awwww! That's so cuuuute!" Peter said.

I laughed, and we both headed out of his room.

As we headed down the hall, Peter leading me to the kitchen, I glanced into the living room and saw Bucky… sitting across from Tony on the couches surrounding the coffee table.

They were talking.

I paused for a moment, and Bucky seemed to sense I was there because he looked over at me. He gave me a smile and a small wave.

I suppose I'll have to figure out what's going on later. I gave him a nod and hurried after Peter.

"Alright kid, so there's a few things I can show you now, but there's one thing that will probably work best once we move to the compound," I said, looking around the kitchen. "Ton' said we were moving in a week, right?"

"Yeah. I keep trying to pack up my stuff but then I remember most all the stuff I wanna pack is back in the apartment, with Aunt May. Or maybe she's gotten rid of it. Or burned it. Couldn't exactly bring my periodic table poster with me when I left," he said somberly.

I patted his back, and he smiled a little sadly up at me before gesturing for me to continue.

"Alright, so one thing that helped me was every morning before breakfast, I would open up the fridge," I walked over and pulled it open, "and the cupboards," I opened them, "and I would just stand back for a minute and look at all the food we had."

I stood next to Peter as he gazed around.

"I… didn't quite realize there was so much," he said, sounding slightly surprised.

"That's what I thought too. Sometimes it's hard to see just how… how safe you are, because it's not out in the open all the time. I found that this helped me remember that we had more than enough food for everyone, including me," I said.

"That makes sense," Peter said.

"The next thing-" I said, and I reached into the cupboard and grabbed a box of cereal, a few Hulk Bars, and then the fruit bowl off the counter. "-is to always have some food out on the table all the time."

We walked over to the table and I set everything down, arranging everything into a way that looked nice.

"That way, even if all the cupboards are closed, you can see a bit of food all the time. And these foods are nice because you can eat them as snacks, and it doesn't feel like a big event when you want to get something to eat," I said. I glanced at him, and he had a thoughtful, yet hopeful, look on his face.

"I like that. I can't believe we didn't think of that," he said with a smile.

"Well, Tony isn't a genius on all fronts," I said with a smirk.

Peter laughed a high, giddy laugh that made my heart swell.

"Alright, last thing, besides what I want to show you when we get to the compound," I said. "Whenever you go out, you should take a snack with you. Even if all you're doing is getting the mail. It always helped me to have food constantly, even if I knew I wouldn't need it. This is a habit I still do now, especially when we go on missions. Nothing's worse than finishing a hard day, only to have to sit through a half hour debrief from Fury on an empty stomach."

Peter giggled again, and I smiled back at him. We both began closing the cupboard and refrigerator doors, and it was then that I realized I was hungry. Really hungry, actually. I checked the time. 11:45, and I had breakfast at 10. Crap, I was so engrossed with Peter I forgot to eat. Passing by all those restaurants in the car felt like ages ago now. I massaged my fingers into my stomach, trying to rub away the dull ache I was starting to feel there. Peter took notice.

"Are you hungry?" Peter asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, a bit. I forgot to eat one of my… you called them Hourlies? I forgot to eat one of those at eleven, so now I swear I'm skin and bones," I said. Peter didn't respond. "Heh, maybe you haven't heard that one before, I'm never sure if what I'm saying is an older phrase-"

I cut off when I turned around and saw Peter's face. The look of panic on it surprised me.

"Peter?" I said.

He muttered something but it was so low I couldn't hear it. His face looked pale, almost sick, and fearful, and his eyes were unfocused. He started backing away from me, stumbling shakily. I immediately went over to him and gripped his shoulders to steady him.

"Peter?" I said. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

He stared at me for a moment, and suddenly it seemed like his eyes became unclouded, and he frowned in confusion. He shook his head, like he was clearing his head of something.

"It was an expression," he said softly.

"I-Yes, it was just an expression Peter, but what's wrong? Are you hurt?" I said gently.

"Oh my god, I'm so stupid," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. "Stupid, stupid stupid stupid-"

"Stop that, don't talk about yourself like that-"

"It made me think-It made me think of my first day here," he said, his voice going up an octave, and he clutched his head in both hands. "Mr. Stark took me out of the alley, and when I went to shower I saw myself in the mirror-It was so scary, I was so scary, I looked like one of those monsters in a horror movie, all thin and, and, and, weird-Oh god I'm losing my mind."

It suddenly clicked. When I said "skin and bones"…

I felt guilt settle in my chest at the idea that I caused him so much worry. I remember looking like that, thin as a rail, bones jutting out of my skin. I couldn't look in the mirror most days back then, my own face would haunt my dreams.

"You're not losing your mind, listen, look at me," I said, and I put a finger under his chin, coaxing him to make eye contact. "You're not losing your mind. It's okay, you're not stupid, you're not crazy."

Peter didn't argue, but he definitely didn't believe me.

"You're not losing it, kid. It's just… a bad memory. Bruce had a more technical name for it I think, but sometimes words or phrases or images remind us of bad memories," I said. "Everyone has things like that."

Peter started slowly lowering his hands as I continued.

"Even the Avengers. Especially us even, it's hard to be a hero without some messed up stuff happening to you it seems," I said, smoothing my thumbs over his bony shoulders as I went on. "I hate trains. Even seeing one on tv makes me feel sick to my stomach, I would rather use literally any other means of transportation."

"Why?" Peter whispered.

"Bucky… fell out of a train when he and I were fighting HYDRA. He fell all the way down a cliff, and he got captured. For years I thought he was dead, and then, as you know, he was the Winter Soldier when we were reunited. But now all I can think of when I see a train is the moment of watching him fall until he became no bigger than a speck of dust. Of trying to reach him as he clung to the door of the freight car, only for him to be swept away from me," I said.

Peter gazed at me with watery eyes for a moment before giving me a hug. I let out a small laugh. Here I am, trying to comfort him, and he goes and tries to comfort me back. This kid is too sweet.

"It's not just me and you either. All the Avengers have bad memories. Natasha hates dancing, especially ballet. We can't even say the word 'nutcracker' around Christmas time. Bruce hates anything that could tie him with the Hulk, so he pretty much avoids green at all costs, and gets nervous if he can't meditate at least twice a day. Clint can't look at Vision's face, he's terrified of that stone, always worried it's going to hypnotize him again, and Vision is somewhat scared of it as well, he accidentally paralyzed Rhodey with it. We can't talk about Sokovia with Wanda, she says all it reminds her of is her brother. Bucky has a whole string of words he hates, fortunately they're all in Russian, but he also hates trains, like me. And needles. And Tony… Tony hates just about any mention of the aliens attack in New York. It's part of the reason he normally lives in the compound."

I smoothed my hand over his back, and he seemed to cling to me a little tighter.

"Of course, that's not everything. Heh, it'd take me a good while to list all that, but those are some of the big things. We have big and small things that hurt us just like you do, and we do our best to accommodate them. Sure, we don't always have time for Bruce to meditate, and sometimes we have to go on a train, and sometimes we can't avoid certain words or topics of conversation, but we do what we can, and that's enough. And as time goes on things will get a lot easier, that's what happened with me. With everyone else too. Things aren't as bad as they used to be, and we'll help you get to that point too. You're not going through this alone, buddy."

Peter breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and I felt him relax further into my arms.

Eventually we broke apart, Peter dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. I kept one arm wrapped around his shoulders, and he leaned into my side.

"What's annoying is I don't really know what's bad for me," he said with a sniff. "It feels like I panic without a reason. Like anything could set me off."

"That's alright. We can figure it out together. Again, you won't be doing all this stuff by yourself."

He nodded and rested his head against my side.

"Could you… could you tell Mr. Stark and Bucky about all this? And the other Avengers too when they come live with us? I just don't want anyone to think I'm weird for opening up all the cupboards every morning," he said, his face turning a little red.

"Of course. You won't have to worry about anything like that, I'll take care of making sure everyone knows what's going on," I said, squeezing his arm gently.

"That's good," he said, nodding to himself. "That's good."

Then after a few moments of silence he said, "We should have lunch. Mr. Stark and Serge-I mean, Bucky, are probably hungry too."

"Good idea."

Together we walked down to where Tony and Bucky still sat and called them over for lunch. Peter shooed Bucky and I out of the kitchen, and it just about melted my heart to see him and Tony cooking together.

Tony looked at Peter with a type of pride and fondness I've never seen in him before. It's nothing like the emotions he shows when looking at a new Iron Suit, or at the other Avengers.

It… reminded me of the way Clint looked at his kids. His face lit up every time Peter spoke, and became positively gleeful whenever he laughed.

It seems he really would lay down on the wire for this kid.