Eric was still driving him and Ned home, but he answered the call through the car's Bluetooth and even brought up a visual, because he knew Ned would want to see if Peter came on the call. At the moment, though, it was just Tony and Pepper.

"I take it from your concerned expressions that you're worried about Peter playing football?" he asked, after they told him what had happened.

"He's pretty little," Pepper replied. "We don't want him to get hurt."

"I'll watch out for him," Ned promised, quickly, eager to get his friend permission to play on the same team he was going to be playing on. "He wouldn't get hurt."

"I appreciate that, Ned," Tony told him. He looked at Eric. "You and Nancy aren't worried about Ned?"

The big man shook his head, smiling, slightly.

"It isn't the NFL, Tony. The kids aren't big enough to build up a lot of force to hit each other, and there are a lot of pads, and helmets."

"I'm going to go get a cup!" Ned told Tony and Pepper. When they both simply looked at him, he elaborated. "It's to keep me from hurting my nu-"

"We know what it does, Ned," Tony assured him, smiling for the first time since Peter had handed him the football pamphlet. He looked at Eric. "Obviously, you're not against the idea of Peter playing…?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I thought that it was too much for him. He's a little guy, but they're top notch coaches; they'll keep him off the line, and use him for something that has less contact."

Tony hesitated. Peter really was a little guy, despite being enhanced like he was, and they already knew that he could be hurt.

"You don't think we should stick with T-ball?"

"I think you're going to find yourself making a lot of choices like this as you and Pepper raise him," Eric told him. "I know he's small for his age." And he knew that Tony and Pepper were maybe a little overprotective of Peter because of it – and because they were so new at the parenting thing. "But he's also a little kid who is going to grow up either timid, or courageous, and a lot of that is going to depend on you guys, and how much you let him experience."

Ugh.

"When do we need to decide by?" Pepper asked.

"Tryouts begin next weekend."

Ugh.

"Kyle said they don't turn anyone away," Ned added, trying to be helpful. "So Peter will make the team."

He didn't add that he'd been worried about it, for himself.

"Thanks, Ned," Tony said, again. He turned his attention back to Eric. "Are you going to be there?"

"I will. I can take Peter, too, if you'd like?"

"No." Tony looked at Pepper, who shrugged, helplessly, and then nodded. "We'll take him. We're going to want to talk to the coaches, anyway."

"There's a list of supplies that you'll need to get him," Eric told them, smiling at Ned's excited whoop of happiness when he realized that Peter was going to be allowed to play, too. "I'll email it to you when I get home."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They said their goodbyes, and the call ended. Tony sighed and looked at Pepper.

"Well, wife…? What do you think?"

"I think he's going to break his neck."

She didn't look any less worried than she had before the phone call. Tony felt better, though, but was honest enough to admit that it might just be because he was going to be able to tell Peter that he could play, and that would make his son happy, again.

"I don't think it'll be that bad," he temporized. "We'll wait and see what the coaches have to say." He shrugged. "If nothing else, maybe we can have him be the punter, or the kicker. They never get tackled."

Pepper reached for the pamphlet.

"We'll see."

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Peter sniffed, the newcomer distracting him from his disappointment.

"Why Bucky?"

The man shrugged.

"Because it's a play on my middle name; Buchanan. Get it? Buchanan… Bucky…?

"Oh. My middle name is Benjamin."

"So can I call you Benji?"

"If you want. Most everyone just calls me Peter."

"Then I'll call you Peter, as well."

"You're not supposed to be here, Bucky."

"Why not?"

"Because JARVIS doesn't like strangers in the yard. And my dad doesn't like strangers around me."

"Why?"

"Because he's worried they'll try to hurt me."

"I'm not here to hurt you, Peter."

"I know."

The man frowned at that.

"You sound pretty sure of that."

"Yeah." Peter shrugged. "You don't make my stomach hurt."

"So it's true that you have special abilities?"

Peter hesitated, coming out of his sorrow enough to realize that Tony might not like him talking to this stranger – even if he did know his name and he didn't make his stomach hurt. He told Peter that they didn't want people to know what he could do. Not even Ned, or Eric.

"I'm not supposed to tell."

Bucky nodded.

"That makes sense." He hesitated. "Can I show you something that makes me different?"

"What?" Peter asked, curiously. His eyes widened when the man raised up his arm, and Peter realized that it wasn't real. "Wow. Is that metal?"

"Yeah." He wiggled the fingers on it, though. "It works like a regular arm."

"Wow."

The man's smile was more genuine, and maybe not so tired. It had been a very long time since he'd spoken to a child, after all.

"Yeah wow." He held it out. "You can touch it."

Peter reached out and pressed his fingers against the cool metal.

"It's like my dad's suit."

"Your dad's Tony Stark?"

Peter nodded.

"You know who he is?"

"Everyone does, right?"

"Yeah." The boy tapped his fingers against Bucky's arm, again. "Why are you here?"

"Well… that's a long story, Peter, and I'm not sure your dad would appreciate it if I told you."

"Does it have bad words?"

"Some."

"Steve doesn't like it when people say bad words," Peter told him. He smiled. "Steve's Captain America. He's about a million years old, and he's really strong."

"He's not a million years old," Bucky corrected Peter, his smile fading. "How is he?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is he doing alright?"

Peter shrugged.

"He's good. We went camping, last month. When school got out. It was me, and Ned, and Tony, and Clint, and Steve, and Coope-"

The man raised his hand to stop the list.

"He really went camping?"

"Yeah. And we went fishing. And hiking." Peter hesitated. "Do you know him?"

"We've met." He started to say more, but they both heard Tony calling Peter's name from somewhere near the back porch. "I should go."

"You could stay and meet my dad."

Barnes shook his head.

"Not, yet." He held out his hand – the real one, not the metal one. "It was good meeting you, Peter," he said, sincerely. "I'm glad they didn't send me after you."

Peter frowned, taking the hand, automatically.

"Who?"

"No one, buddy. Go on, your dad's calling and I'd rather he didn't come looking for you and find me talking to you."

"It's okay," Peter assured him. "I told you, my stomach doesn't hurt around you."

"I'm glad." Bucky stood up, and gave the boy a gentle push toward the opening in the trees. "I'll see you around."

Peter turned back, but in only the few moments he'd been facing the other way, the man had vanished.

"Wow…"

He turned and headed for the back door.