Peter snapped awake at the sound of his door opening with a faint snick. Clint stood frozen in the entrance, looking both shocked and like he got his hand stuck in the cookie jar, before exclaiming, "Geez - you got some kinda six sense or something?! The heck kid."

Peter's heart jolted straight out of his chest for a moment, and it definitely took him a bit too long to catch on to the joke. He chuckled nervously. "Ha-haaa, yeah…"

Clint squinted at him, then shrugged. "There's breakfast downstairs."

Peter nodded, pulling off his covers and stepping out of bed. He fruitlessly raked his fingers through his hair to try and smooth out his bed head and brushed his hands along his rumpled shirt and sweats.

Clint turned down the hall to the elevator and Peter followed, stepping in the lift with him. They waited in a peaceful sort of silence as they went down a few levels, coming back out on the common floor and heading towards the kitchen area.

Peter's mind came back online as he stared at the open plan room before him. At the stove, Sam was spreading batter into a pan and Thor was sitting at the counter pouring an ungodly (HA) amount of syrup over his pancakes. The latter turned to Peter.

"INTERN OF TONY!" he boomed around his mouthful of food, somehow managing not to spray chunks of it everywhere.

Peter smiled back weakly. "Hey, uh, Mr. Thor."

Clint snorted. "Mr. Thor," he echoed, slapping a hand on the table and chortling.

Peter huffed, rolling his eyes sheepishly and making his way up to Sam's side. "Need any help?" he offered.

Sam shook his head, flipping another pancake. "I'm all good, little man." He turned slightly, tilting his head. "You want somethin' in your share?"

Peter's eyes brightened, and he hopped slightly in place. "I-"

"No," interrupted Tony, turning the corner. "Gummies and skittles do not belong in pancakes, Peter, and I will not stand for such an atrocity being made under my own roof."

The teen pouted, opening the drawer by his side and pulling out a jumbo pack of gummy bears. "But I gotta," he insisted, raising his brows up and center, giving his best puppy dog eyes.

Tony curled his lip, shaking his head. "Last time you gave me that look, Dum-E covered my entire side of the lab in flame retardant. So, no."

Clint strolled past them, snagging a couple of pancakes onto a separate plate. "Let the kid have his fun."

Tony glared at him. "Gummies. In actual food. That's a no no."

"Pancakes are technically sweets too, right?" Sam interjected. "So they can go together since they're in the same category. Like chocolate chips." Peter gave him and Clint blinding smiles, tearing off the seal from the gummy pack.

Tony placed a hand above his heart. "The disrespect. I can't believe you all. Ganging up on me like this. What happened to my house, my rules?"

Sam laughed, grabbing a handful of gummies from the bag that was now opened in Peter's hand and sprinkling them on some freshly poured batter.

Tony groaned, slumping and plodding away in defeat after Clint, collapsing down on the seat next to the man. He flopped his head towards him. "What're you even doin' here, Legolas? You never eat breakfast."

Clint sniffed petulantly, cutting up another bite of pancake with a fork and one of his multitude of knives. "I eat breakfast." He paused. "Hypocrite." Tony raised an eyebrow. Clint rolled his eyes. "Fine. I woke up the kid."

"Thanks, by the way!" Peter called from across the kitchen, still by Sam's side and munching on some gummies.

"No problemo," Clint assured.

"Why?" Tony questioned.

Clint shrugged. "Breakfast time."

"And FRIDAY couldn't wake Peter up like she was going to in" - Tony checked the time - "three minutes because…"

"Oh! I didn't know about that. My b," Clint replied airily, shoving another forkful of pancake down his throat.

Tony leaned his head against his forearm on the table, both exhausted and unconvinced. "Uh-huh."

Steve and Bucky came in together, both looking freshly showered, and Steve wandered over to the fridge while Bucky took a seat at the kitchen table.

"We missed you on the run today," Steve mentioned to Sam, rifling through the fridge and pulling out a container of raspberries and a couple of plums.

Sam flipped another pancake onto a plate, handing the stack to Peter, who took them graciously. "Yeah," was all Sam said.

Steve raised an eyebrow, snagging a bunch of pancakes from the larger stack next to the man and setting them out on a couple of plates. "Any reason why?"

Sam snorted, pouring some more batter onto the pan and letting it sizzle for a moment. "You mean besides not wantin' to hear another 'on your left' in my life?" he questioned dryly.

Steve laughed, popping a couple of raspberries into his mouth. "I could say 'on your right' instead," he offered, grinning unapologetically.

Sam squinted at him for a moment before returning to the pancakes, muttering under his breath.

Tony clapped his hands together, right as the coffee machine finished pouring out his coffee. He picked it up, taking a large swallow of the scalding liquid and turning to face the gathering of people in the kitchen. "I've got a meeting in five, so I can't stick around, but anybody here up for taking Pete to school?"

"I'm alright!-" Peter protested.

Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Happy's coming with me, unfortunately, so I don't have a driver for you."

"I can take a cab-"

"No can do, buckaroo."

Bucky shot Tony a look from across the table, which Tony promptly ignored.

"I can do it," Clint offered.

Tony shook his head. "Yeah, no. You're grounded."

"What?" Clint said indignantly, stabbing his fork into a pancake.

"I am most inclined to be of assistance," Thor interjected.

Tony winced. "Also no."

"But why?" Thor frowned.

"Can you drive?"

"No," Thor replied easily.

"Point." Tony turned to Sam, who smiled apologetically. "I've got a thing at the VA in a bit."

Peter tried again. "Really, Mr. Stark, I can just get a cab."

Tony didn't even deign his offer with a response, looking to Steve and Bucky instead. Steve was already shaking his head in negation, but Bucky spoke up. "I can take 'im."

Steve turned to face him, looking surprised. "You sure, Buck?"

Bucky shrugged, setting down the core of his plum. "I've got time."

Tony squinted at him suspiciously. "Do you have a license that's eligible for the twenty-first century?"

"Yes, Tony," Bucky replied long sufferingly, before his lips twitched and a strange gleam shone in his eyes. "Got it renewed a few months back." Steve gave him a warning look, but Bucky pretended not to notice, and nobody else saw it.

Tony nodded. "Alright." He looked over at Peter. "I'll see you later, kid. Stay in school, don't do drugs. Don't get hurt. The whole shebang."

Peter sucked in a deep breath as if to reply, but instead just deflated. "Bye Mr. Stark," he ended up saying, ignoring the growing nerves creeping up on him as Tony turned to leave.

"Bye Parker," Tony shot back, disappearing down the hall.

It was silent for a few more moments except for the clinking of forks against plates and pancake batter sizzling on the pan. Clint leaned towards him from across the empty seat between them. "So, Peter," he started, picking up the bottle of syrup and drowning his plate in it. "What's it that you do as Stark's intern?"

Peter shrugged nervously, nibbling on one of the half melted gummy bears sticking out of the pancake on his fork. "Help him out in the labs, mostly. Building stuff."

"Like what?"

He shrugged again. "Whatever he's working on, I guess. I've got a couple of my own projects going, but I usually just help out on the pieces Mr. Stark's doing."

"Whatever he's working on?" Clint asked again, as if to clarify.

Peter nodded, a small furrow forming in his brow, slightly confused. He didn't think he'd said anything wrong, and it's not like anything he did working with Mr. Stark was incriminating. Mostly because Mr. Stark didn't know he was Spider-Man, either, but.

"Even Avengers stuff?"

"Ah. Yeah," Peter agreed easily, polishing off the last of his breakfast.

Clint crossed his arms, looking impressed. "You must be pretty amazing, then, for him to let you around that stuff. Most people aren't even allowed in his workshop, let alone actually touching and working on the tech down there." Then, in a mutter, "I'm definitely not."

Peter ducked his head, smiling.

Sam finally joined them at the table, plopping down on Steve's other side with a heavy sigh and leaning forward to see Peter around the two supersoldiers. "How'd you get the job anyways, if you don't mind me asking?"

The back of the teen's neck prickled, and he chuckled nervously. "Um. I… impressed him?" he went with, sounding even less sure of himself than he felt.

Sam raised his brows, huffing out a laugh. "I'd assume so," he agreed, still looking at Peter somewhat expectantly, though not impatiently.

When Peter didn't offer more, though, he went back to his meal, diving into his own set of pancakes without rebuke, much to Peter's relief.

Clint pressed on, though. "So how'd you impress him?"

"With my, uh, skills?" Peter said, tone still coming off as more of a question and with an edge of nerves. He tapped on his phone. It was nearing 7:20AM. "I should probably head out in a minute," he declared, glancing at Bucky and interrupting any further interrogation from Clint. The former nodded, rising from his seat as Peter did. He trailed down the hall after the taller man, waving at the chorus of goodbyes behind him.

.

It was quiet between the two of them on the ride down to the garage, though Peter got that it was less of an awkward thing and more of that Bucky just tended towards silence.

So it was all as expected.

What was not expected, though, was the ride they stopped in front of.

It wasn't one of Tony's numerous cars - expensive, sleek, either colorful or monochromatic- or one of the more common ones that were off to the side and meant for more covert driving. In fact, it wasn't a car at all.

"Um," Peter started. Bucky tilted his head towards him, that look from earlier back in his eyes. "We're, um. I haven't."

"Haven't been on a bike?" Bucky finished.

Peter sputtered for a moment, hands flapping around. "I've been on a bike before," he stressed, then pointed accusingly at the ride before them. "I've never been on a motor cycle."

Bucky rolled his eyes, keys clinking in his metal hand as he stepped out around the front of the bike and grabbed a helmet off where it hung on the wall. He tossed it to Peter. "It's a Harley-Davidson," he said.

Peter stared blankly at the helmet he'd caught. "The helmet…?" he asked, lost.

The man barked out a laugh, swinging a leg up and over the bike and seating himself up front. "The motorcycle , punk. Take a seat."

Peter nodded, putting on the helmet and fastening the clasp beneath his chin while going to sit behind Bucky, putting his hands around the man's leather jacket and grasping it lightly.

The engine revved, echoing around the expansive garage as Bucky went into reverse. The doors to the exit opened, and they were off like a shot, Peter's scream whisked away by the wind.

Bucky tore through the streets, weaving between cars and screeching around corners like they were trying to lose a tail. It certainly felt like a high speed chase, what, with going at least twenty miles above the speed limit at all times. Peter had his arms wrapped tightly around Bucky's waist, hanging on for dear life, face pressed into his back so that he wasn't smacked with sharp spears of wind to his eyes. He could've sworn they'd passed at least two cop cars, but neither even gave a hint that they'd attempt pursuit. Was it an Avengers thing? Peter wondered hysterically, grip tightening as they flew past yet another stop sign, just barely cutting in front of a semi truck barreling into the intersection from their right.

Barely ten minutes after they'd left the tower, Bucky was pulling up in front of Midtown High, which usually took at least a good half hour to reach. He slowed, coming to a calm stop right in front of the main entrance.

Kids were milling around out front, school not starting for another forty minutes or so. Upon spotting the motorcycle and the clear passengers aboard it, a crowd started to gather.

Peter unlatched his death grip from Bucky and hopped off the bike, unclipping his helmet and handing it over to the man, who took it easily and set it on the back.

On a good day, Bucky was one of the more inconspicuous of the avengers, but today wasn't one of those days. On top of the fact that he came roaring out to the front of the high school on his apparently pretty iconic Harley-Davidson, his jacket sleeves were hiked up to his elbows, so his metal arm glinted silver in the daylight.

Peter fumbled awkwardly, glancing back at the group whispering excitedly behind him and then at Bucky. "Thanks, Mr… um. Barnes."

Bucky scoffed out a laugh, smiling slightly. A couple of girls definitely squealed harder than necessary at the sight. "Bucky's just fine, pal. You've got a strong grip," he noted, grinning rakishly as Peter flushed cherry red, trying and failing to look like the ride hadn't taken half his soul out his body despite the fact that he swung from rooftops daily. "I'll see ya later," Bucky saluted, tilting his chin up once.

Peter nodded dazedly, watching as Bucky lifted his heel back off the ground and shot off, leaving a harsh gust of wind that pushed back at Peter's frazzled helmet hair.

Someone grabbed at his shoulder, making him flinch. "Peter," Ned whispered loudly, practically vibrating with excitement. "You know the Winter Soldier?!"

Peter snorted. "No, Ned. He just kidnapped me off the street and decided to take me to school."

Ned stared at him, wide eyed.

Peter laughed. "Yeah, I've met him."

Ned huffed.

"Hey, Penis!" Flash shouted.

Peter sighed, looking over Ned's shoulder at the other teen, who angrily stormed over to them.

"How'd you get a ride with the Winter Soldier?" he asked in angry disbelief, jabbing a finger into Peter's chest. It didn't really do anything, but Peter took a step back anyways.

He shrugged, playing it off. "It was nothing."

Flash sneered. "What, did you manage to tell your sob story to the closest Avenger so you could look cool, huh?" He continued, pitching his voice up mockingly. "I'm Penis Parker, my parents are dead and nobody likes me, boohoo, please make me look cool." A couple of his lackeys snickered, but most of the crowd at least had the decency to look embarrassed by Flash's tirade. "What, Parker? Did nobody believing you about the fake internship not convince you enough that it was a stupid idea?"

Peter withheld another sigh. "The internship's real, Flash. That's how I met him."

"Yeah, right," Flash scoffed, lifting his nose and turning on his heel. He called over his shoulder. "Next time, leave the pretending to know the Avengers to the Make a Wish kids, Penis."

After he disappeared inside the building, along with most of the scattering students, Peter looked back over to Ned, who shook his head despairingly. "That… didn't even make sense, did it?" Peter questioned.

Ned made a noise of agreement, and the two headed for the entrance. "He's gonna figure it out someday, Peter. That you actually work for Tony Stark."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Peter muttered.

"Hmm, that more describes Flash's way of thinking," Ned pointed out.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Flash saw Bucky and that did literally nothing."

Ned hummed contemplatively, coming to a stop at his locker with Peter at his side. He fiddled with the lock, putting in his code. "You're right. He'd have to, like, literally see you working in Stark Tower." He pulled open the metal door and took out his chemistry textbook.

Peter gave a quick burst of laughter, shaking his head. "Like that's ever gonna happen."

.

"Class, I have an exciting announcement to make!" Ms. Warren exclaimed, waving around a stack of papers. She was met with a wary sort of silence, to which she huffed exasperatedly before continuing. "We're going on a field trip next week!"

An odd sense of foreboding came over Peter, and he turned to catch Ned's eye. The latter mouthed, 'no way,' shaking his head with a disbelieving quirk of his lip.

After the noise around the class died down, Sally's hand shot up, and Ms. Warren called on her. "Where will we be going?" she asked.

Peter was willing to bet real money that Ms. Warren had to struggle not to roll her eyes, instead looking deadpan at Sally for a moment before gathering herself. "We'll be going to Stark Tower!" she proclaimed, smiling widely and brandishing the papers once more.

Well, shit, Peter thought.