Disclaimer: I own Nothing! Nothing I say!
Right here is the next chapter it is a bit bigger than the others but it sets a couple of things in motion that is really exciting (for me anyway) so hope you enjoy.
Scott hugged tight to the wall, his white knuckles locked around his rifle as he listened intently for movement. The hallway was dark, the red whirring light giving him a sense of unease as the shadows shifted around him in the crimson glow. When he was sure he heard no noise he pressed his finger into his ear activating the communicator.
"I can't see anyone here." He snuck around the corner and ducked behind a treadmill.
In the last week, he'd only been in the gym once before when he was exploring. There was an upper level to the gym meaning a high balcony of treadmills and other cardio machines loomed over him. He had a sudden surge of guilt for not going to the gym. He should be taking advantage, it was probably the best collection of equipment in New York, possibly even America. It was so insanely equipt that if Tony charged an entrance fee it could trump all the local businesses. Not that Tony Stark needed more money, nor cared about running a small gym, especially as he supplied schematics and designs for machines to all the top fitness hubs in the city. Turns out that making a gym for a super-soldier has a lot of practical applications for business.
He'd seen the story in the news only a few months ago, it marked the 6th year that the billionaire had donated equipment into all local schools free of charge. Instead of highlighting the amazing benefits of top-end equipment for students, the report focused on the negative imaging of heroes stating that it gave children an unattainable goal and the 'Super-Soldier' machinery was only adding to that leading onto… Cassie had turned the tv off at that point, throwing the remote away without a second glance.
Scott snapped himself out of his thoughts. He was getting distracted and he couldn't afford to let his guard down.
Now, in the dim light, the looming shadows of the equipment seemed to surround him, catching his eye and causing his pulse to quicken. He tried to calm his adrenaline rush, running quickly to hide behind a weight rack further into the room. The sensors had said there was someone in the gym. He just had to find them.
His eyes scoured every crevice, pouring over the equipment and every shadow even for the slightest of movements, his finger dancing on the trigger. There was nothing. Scott took a breath. He slowly got up from his hiding place and began to weave around the machines. The coast was clear. Or so he thought.
Pain flared in his back. He twisted to its source but it was too late.
"Ha! I got you Dad!" Cassie triumphantly raised her paintball gun.
Peter stood behind both of them giggling as Scott dramatically fell to the floor, a splat of luminous green just visible in the dim light. The game was Peter's idea. He found that all the controls to the tower's lighting and also 'stumbled' upon Mr Stark's paintball guns that the Avengers use for training (Well that's what Stark would say if he was ever asked). It took him only a matter of minutes to create a realistic tower siege.
"Seems we have the upper hand now. Mwahahaha!" Peter leaned back as he chuckled as deeply as he could manage. His voice rasping near the end as he strained his throat.
"This isn't over!" Scott cried croakily from the floor. "You will never succeed in infiltrating the tower!"
"You're supposed to be dead." Cassie deadpanned to which Scott gave some even more dramatic coughs, gasping suddenly to initiate another giggle fit from her.
Out of nowhere a blur of darkened colour shot down from the upper-level railing, Hope spun gracefully as she landed her rifle pointed straight towards Cassie.
Peter dived in front of her giving the most elongated 'Noooo' he could manage. He felt the paintball collide torso and he took a dramatically loud gasp. He flopped to the floor as Cassie raised her gun hitting Hope in the lower shoulder. She regarded the 'wound' with passing annoyance.
Cassie dropped to her knees by Peter. "Your sacrifice was worth it soldier. We did it. We won." She squeezed his hand and he nodded weakly. "Now we have control of the tv." She leapt up and ran in the direction of the lift her giggles still audible from around the corner. Peter lay on the floor chuckling to himself, his torso ached from the laughter of the day.
"Reset light settings," Hope called up to the ceiling and suddenly the gym was bathed in glistening white light. "I could have won that." She huffed rubbing some of the paint between her fingers. "Next time we should play with the suits." She smirked to Scott, pulling him up from the floor.
"Hey! That's cheating!" Peter cried, jumping back to his feet. "You can't use high tech shrinking power in paintball."
He tried to control the mischievous glint in his expression at the hypocrisy behind his argument. When he was detected by the security systems in the gym, he may or may not have lept to the ceiling before Scott got a chance to investigate. The temptation to make him jump was unbearable as he skittishly checked the room. He was just glad he didn't look up. Lucky for him, his own cheating went unnoticed.
"How about we rearrange the teams." Scott mused. "Boys versus girls so it's even," he puffed out his chest, "it's only fair we have an Avenger per team." He paused pretending to count only one on his fingers. "Oh… wait…you're not an Avenger!"
Peter felt a pull in his chest. But he was talking to Hope.
"Like your even an Avenger anyway!" Hope laughed. "You barely fought alongside half the team."
"Pffft," Scott huffed, "I'll have you know I've met…" he paused reconsidering his answer, "most of the team."
Their bickering floated into the background as Peter tried to calm the spike of heat in his veins. He'd had a lot of fun with Scott over the past days and they got along really well. They built a rapport almost instantly and now Peter knew what a great guy Scott was, he was desperate to talk to him about Spidey stuff.
Peter hit the streets within the hour of promising not to leave the tower. He managed to do some digging and within only a few days he had something to go off. The place he got lucky was a homeless man who he saved from a beating by some drunken frat boys. After many thank yous and a couple of sandwiches from the nearest street vendor they got to chatting. The man had heard rumours that Spiderman was looking for some dodgy organisation and directed him towards one, right under everyone's noses.
Oscorp was a well respected chemical and biological advancement group, known even sometimes to rival that of Stark industries in the stock market. It was well known in his school and many people went onto apprenticeships in the company after they graduated. Peter's parents themselves were known scientists of the company, being a part of the teams that created some of the very first advancements of the young business. He liked to believe that the company was not as crooked back then.
The more digging he did into Oscorp the more unsettling his findings were. It was definitely something worth looking into. In fact, he was planning to sneak into the building the very next day; all it took was a late entry to an internship open day and with a glowing recommendation from his school, he was welcomed with open arms. To have Scott with him would make his life a lot easier but it was risky. To tell him not only that he was Spiderman but also that he wanted to run a surveillance operation behind everyone's backs would be a bad idea he was sure of it. Scott idolised them, especially Captain America. Surely he would tell him the moment Peter revealed his plan and yet… Peter couldn't help but trust the cheesy grin that Scott was throwing him.
"Come on, Peter!" He looked desperately his way, Hope tapped her toes behind him "I'm an Avenger, right?"
"Of course!" Peter cried, throwing a Hope a wide grin.
She rolled her eyes and stalked off in the direction Cassie ran. Scott threw him a big thumbs up and went to follow her but something in Peter switched. A rush of adrenaline pulsed through him forcing him to open his mouth.
"Um, Scott?" His voice broke in the middle.
His smile faded ever so slightly as he turned to the nervous teen. "What's up, Pete?"
He gulped. "Um, I just wanted to talk to you about something." He paused to find the words to tell him; to share with him his biggest secret that he realised and hadn't specifically told anyone yet. The only people who even knew his secret had found out by accident. It was such a big decision to open up this part of his life, to welcome someone in rather than them breaking down the door. He tried to find the words. But they never came. A shaky laugh escaped him instead. "We should convince Hope to do 3 vs 1 and only she's allowed the suit."
Scott raised his eyebrows comically large. "Ooh," he cooed, "I like that idea. No shrinking paintball guns though." His eyes glistened.
Peter imagined a paintball gun waddling seemingly on its own down a corridor. They both exchanged a glance before bursting into a fit of laughter. "She'll hate it."
"Exactly!" Scott ran at full speed calling after Hope.
"Wait!" Peter lunged through the doorway after him. "If she wins we'll never live it down."
Scott swivelled mid jog allowing the teen to catch up. "Stakes are high, Pete." He patted him on the shoulder. "Now what do you say we go watch a few hours of Princess Petunia." They both cringed. "Hey, you won this is your fault."
They only managed to get through a few episodes for which Peter was grateful. He couldn't shake the longing to let Scott in on his secret but he could never quite pluck up the courage to tell him. He always seemed to be putting it off. Maybe he was hoping he'd just find out like the others.
Cassie flung herself from the sofa, interrupting his thoughts. She announced that she was bored and they had to do something else, she stood in front of the tv until someone moved. Scott stirred but Peter beat him to it. He scooped her up into a piggyback, running as fast as he could along the winding corridors.
She giggled gleefully as he ran at top speed, screaming when he skipped a corner really fast, spinning her around and changing direction. To him, it was like holding a feather, completely effortless.
With a start, he realised he was laughing uncontrollably along with her. He couldn't remember when he started and he didn't want to stop. At that moment everything else seemed to melt away. While he ran he spared a glance to look back over to the sofa where Scott and Hope were snuggled into each other watching them with an overwhelming sense of tranquillity.
It felt like something struck him in the chest. He was suddenly drowned by an engulfing sense of loss and he struggled to keep down the lump in his throat. This was an insight into the life he could have had growing up.
He swung Cassie off his back as cheerily as he could manage, he faked a pant so he seemed out of breath. "Well," he tried to avoid eye contact with Scott, "it's getting late and I've got some stuff to work on in the lab before bed."
Cassie pouted.
"Hey now Pumpkin, he's not a fun machine he needs rest." He came and scooped her rigid form into his arms. "And so do you. Bedtime."
"I need no bed!" She declared dramatically but she subconsciously rubbed her eyes.
Peter's laugh caught in his throat and he knew immediately that Scott noticed. He could almost feel his concerned eyes resting on him. He needed to leave. He gave a timid wave and began retreating to the lift.
"Goodnight Peter!" Cassie called, waving frantically.
He swivelled back, dipping into a low bow. "Goodnight commander." He forced a smile while she was still in range but the moment he turned the corner he broke into a run. He couldn't get down to the lab fast enough.
The lab was amazing. It was the first thing Peter looked at when he explored. There were pieces of discarded iron man armour that Mr Stark had left for him to play with along with specks and blueprints for the Spiderman suit do that he wanted to change anything he could. Mr Stark had left a note on these that read 'You break it, you fix it but you make it better. Tony - ps. Dum-E can help you with delicates but take the name as a warning.' Then he had helpfully labelled the Dum-E machine with a paper Dunce cap of which Peter quickly sent a picture to Ned so they could laugh about it.
The machine gave him no such amusement now as he trudged into the quiet lab. He picked up the electrical adapter he was adding to his web-shooters. He'd found out the hard way that accidentally webbing to a power line fries the mechanism. Falling from that kind of height was bound to leave an impression in his memory so he went about trying to prevent it in the future. Creating the device was simple enough but for it to have the durability to withstand high voltages was difficult. For that, it needed to be big and he couldn't exactly swing around New York with a battery pack attached to his wrist.
So progress on it had been reasonably slow but he hadn't been trying particularly hard. What with school work and playing games with Scott and Cassie and of course his late-night activities he didn't have much free time.
He stared deeply into the crevices of the scruffily built device unable to shake away the deep pit pooling in his stomach. Whenever he'd hit a road blocking fixing up dumpster tech he'd scavenged, his Uncle Ben would always make him do a little housework. Something he insisted was for the benefit of May (because she would never ask for help) but as he grew up he realised it was more to take his mind off it so that he could attack it with a clear head. It always worked... Until Ben left. It had been a long time since he thought this much about him. He missed him. The goofy banter and heartfelt advice that he sorely needed had been ripped away from him in one act.
He shook his head violently, setting his sights once more on the odd device. It was small but not small enough. It was almost the size of his palm. Wires frayed around the edges, odd bubbles of solder dotted what should be sleek surfaces, screws stuck out too far making it look wrong.
He slammed it back down onto the table, plastic snapping at the impact. He needed Ben. This was when he needed him and he was gone. His stomach scrunched at his earlier thoughts. To even enjoy the fantasy of any other kind of upbringing was a curse to his name. Peter couldn't have wished for better parents than Ben and May. He couldn't stop the flow of guilt that burned in his veins for even thinking anything against them.
He wasn't sure how long the tears had been flowing or when they stopped. He wasn't even sure how he had collapsed onto the desk or when he fell asleep. He only stirred when he felt someone insert a small cushion under his head and a blanket over his shoulders. He didn't go on patrol that night.
Wanda traced her fingers along the kitchen counter, the sleek marble unbearably familiar. The compound always looked the best in this light, the early dawn leaking over the tree line.
This was where she wanted to be.
She looked over the mess almost rolling her eyes. Dishes were stacked over by the sink, food crusting around the edges leaving a faint sour smell in the air. She flicked her wrist and the lid of the bin sprang open, with a devious smirk she curled her hand, red ribbons weaving their way through bowls and plates and cups, squeezing them and hauling them off the counter. In one fluid movement, they all disappeared into the trash, the lid falling shut behind them.
"Tony will wonder what happened to his fine China." Clint chuckled. He was leaning in the doorway, his hair ruffled from sleep.
"He can afford to replace it." She mused.
"It's good to see you." He couldn't help but smile, especially as the whispers of her mischievous acts still played on her features. "I didn't think you'd come."
"Cap asked me to." She didn't sound too pleased about it. She paused a moment something pulling at the corner of her mouth. She added, more quietly this time, "and Vis is back tomorrow."
"Oh is he now." Clint fluttered his eyelashes, tilting his head in an effeminate manner, his short hair not flopping to the side as Wanda's did as he mimicked her position.
She pursed her lips, glaring at him for as long as she could before her expression broke. He crossed the room immediately into her open arms and she hugged him tightly, snuggling her nose into his shoulder so could relax into his musky scent. The emotion hit her stronger than she expected. They hadn't seen each other in so long.
Reluctantly she released him, a sudden overwhelming sense of relief hit her as he patted her lightly on the head. "Welcome home kiddo."
She watched as Clint shuffled over to the curved stools that lined the breakfast bar, grabbing an open box of cereal that lay forgotten just within his reach. He picked up a spoon that was still inside it, surprised by the convenience, then began happily munching his way through.
Her smile was quickly dampened. "Where's Stark?"
"Asleep in the lab last time I checked." His sympathetic look shocked her.
"That bad?"
"No leads in over a week."
Her eyebrows arched. "Wow." She began filling the kettle, her elegant fingers whirling water from the tap to the spout, playfully dancing it in twists and turns and even a loop-de-loop before entering the appliance. She flicked the switch. "We don't often deal with people so discrete."
"Stark isn't good at waiting." He watched as wisps of red guided half-open packets and containers into awaiting cupboards, behind her sponges scrubbed a cream mug, crusted with dried out coffee. "I forgot this is why we don't have a cleaner."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You seem a lot better at this then I remember" His chin was rested in his palms as he slouched against the counter.
"I've been practising."
The clean mug settled in front of her, a tea bag whirled into it and she turned expectedly towards the kettle. It was then Clint realised he hadn't heard the kettle boiling since she switched it on. As he looked he saw steam gathering in the soundproof dome she had created so the noise didn't interrupt their conversation. She released the bubble, the vapour drifted lazily up into the air.
"Tea?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Vis likes London." She shrugged, pouring the hot water from the kettle herself.
"Do you like London?"
She breathed in the warm steam coming from the teacup, the memories of small cafes by drowned streets of the city; packed with locals ready to brave the storm once more after a warm brew. "It's nice." London was nice. Her time with Vision was incredible.
He smiled knowingly and she felt exposed as though he'd read her thoughts.
"Do they not have coffee in London?" He glanced over to his mug sat on the side, it had a cartoon Robin Hood plastered over the whole of one side. He looked between her and the mug once more.
Without a word, she jerked her fingers and the mug flew towards him at speed. His hand snapped up and the ceramic slapped into his steady palm.
"Hey! Be careful I like this mug." He called clanging it down on the table just in time to catch the wisps of instant coffee that drifted through the air towards him followed quickly by scalding water and small twirl of milk.
"Really? I thought you hated it." It was a gift from Stark she knew that much. She assumed that's why he'd never been fond of it.
His eyes softened suddenly and once more she felt her emotions exposed. "It's growing on me." He took a sip of his coffee.
She ached to change the subject. "London is nice but I like Norway. Everyone seems so carefree and unburdened. Crime is rare. There aren't many places in the world where that is true."
"I'm sure crime is low in Antarctica." He grinned taking another spoonful of cereal from the box. "So you're travelling a lot?" To her nod, he swallowed the remainder of his food and placed the box down pointedly. His voice hardened. "Steve says you're missing checkpoints." Something in her eyes twinkled and he understood, unbelievable to some, he was young once. "Just be careful. Contact is for your benefit, not his, don't make him chase after you."
"I know." She did. But she couldn't help but feel the 'checkpoints' had another purpose. Almost like keeping tabs on something unpredictable so it didn't suddenly stab you in the back.
She could feel him watching her, dissecting her expression, reaching for her thoughts but this time drawing a blank. "If I can't look into your head, then you can't see into mine."
He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. Not wanting to argue the matter any further. She noticed often he would sit on things until they became important or useful, like gathering together pieces of a picture before assembling a theory. It reminded her a lot of his partner in crime, Natasha. 'Perhaps it is the way spies operate,' she mused. It was always amusing when they came out with secrets that no-one had a clue how they'd figured out.
Clint stretched stiffly, a barely inaudible grunt escaping him as he did.
"Are you injured?" She hadn't missed it.
Clint stopped mid-stretch, rolling his shoulder under his hand. "Nat challenged me to a 'spar'. She always says its play fighting, then she kicks my ass." Despite his words, he seemed to hold himself a little higher than before. She was tempted to take a peek into his most recent memory to find out the result for herself but quickly reined in that thought. Like she said before there was a strict policy on prying into other people's heads.
Movement in the background drew her attention. She squinted. Just over his shoulder, she could see two figures heading towards a quinjet on the landing strip. She tried desperately to look closer but her shoulders slumped in defeat, they were too far away, merely dots on the grassy field.
Confused, he followed her line of sight. "Its Wilson and Barnes."
Her eyes widened in surprise. She had heard rumours about his incredible eyesight but that was impossible. From that distance it was difficult to recognise them as people, never mind determine who they were. The shock must have been evident on her face.
"Nat told me they were running a recon." He grinned. "Something unrelated." He paused taking another look. "But it's very clear that it's them don't you think? I'd recognise them anywhere, couldn't you."
She huffed taking a sip from her tea. A quick flick of her finger splashed coffee from his mug up into his face so that it dribbled down the bridge of his nose. He cried in protest but she merely shrugged feigning innocence. She was glad to be home.
It had been a weird day for Bucky. Early this morning, he and Sam had snuck out of the base to work a recon. A small-time mission the likes of which the super soldier wasn't exactly familiar with, he could even argue it was below his skill set but in reality, he didn't want to fight the opportunity to get off the base. With over a week of being confined in the same building, anyone would want to escape. However, it did come with lying to Steve. He was worried that guilt he felt was somewhat minimal but he knew he would be forgiven and his friend would understand. He needed a break.
The target was Oscorp. Sam wanted to look into a missing employee as a favour to someone. That was his story anyway and it was a pretty pointless thing to lie about. Oscorp was a highly regarded biochemical engineering company in high life society. Rather than a global household name it was instead a name known mainly by the rich and powerful who had the money to invest in its endeavours. That's the conclusion they had come to in any case. Bucky's suggestion had been to break into the building and take what they need, making sure they finish within the police response time. However, Sam had a different plan.
The great glass skyscraper loomed over him as he stood on the sidewalk. He felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment. He found things like this tedious.
Bucky tugged at his tie. He was in a sleek coal grey suit with a fresh white shirt and a thin black tie. He clutched in his hand a fancy leather suitcase that he was 88% sure was Tony Stark's but Sam neglected to tell him.
He sighed rubbing a hand through his greased back hair, grunting lightly as his hand came away sticky. He wiped it irritability down the side of his trousers. It only took Widow an hour to hack the visitors' website and get Bucky a pass with a new name (Richard Picard) and a tour guide available to show round the new perspective investor.
They created websites and Wikipedia pages, even a fake news report to showcase the rise of a new rich kid who inherited a lot of money and has no clue what to do with it. If they did a background check, and they were sure they would, then they would see no problem in the visit. Then all Bucky had to do was lose his tour guide. Easy.
It would have been easy if his tour guide wasn't such a blabbermouth. 'George from personal relations' had been talking for 27 minutes without interruption and with regular cheery eye contact. Bucky bit down on the end of his tongue for the third time that morning as George merrily bounced down the corridor into another large foyer. He gestured widely to the space, his blindingly red bowtie burning into Bucky's retinas.
"That's why an investment in Oscorp is an investment in the future! We have so many outreach programmes to local schools offering a variety of internships and work experience to lots of eager youngsters. Hey here's a group now! How's it going, Debbie?"
Debbie swished her auburn curly locks in their direction, her thick block glasses slipping down her nose as she did. She hastily pushed them back. "Hey, George!" She called, her cheeks raising a shade of pink. Her knuckles whitened around the black folder she clutched close to her chest.
A small chuckle escaped George. His ginger curls flopping to the side of his face as he continued to watch her herd a tour group.
Bucky was impressed. It was the first time he seemed to stop talking. "Hey," he tapped him lightly on his checkered blazer, "you should ask her out."
He snorted. "Me?" He coughed abruptly. "Sorry," he straightened himself, "we should continue with the tour."
Bucky grabbed him by the upper arm before he could bounce away. "But now's your chance!" His stomach squeezed in frustration, he was skilled in countless forms of infiltration, persuasion and negotiation and he was using it for this. He forced his tone to be calm. "See she keeps looking over, she likes you… really likes you." He turned him by the shoulders so he was facing him. "It's obvious."
His eyes widened. "You think so?" He turned his head and their eyes met. He blushed and turned away. "I really like her."
Bucky slapped him on the shoulder (harder than was probably necessary) and swivelled him back to face her. "Don't tell me that." He gave him a gentle nudge in her direction. He walked, hesitant at first, then taking heavy strides that were too wide for his leg span, causing his head to bob furiously as he walked.
Bucky peeled his eyes away. He found himself weirdly curious as to the outcome.
Slipping away back the way he came he took purposeful strides back down the corridor, no one questioned his intentions. A middle-aged woman with a tightly wound bun was trotting down the corridor in her bland black heels. He caught her eye as she passed, he gave her a pleasant nod but didn't allow any expression to dominate his face. It was a tactic that meant he was barely memorable. After he turned a few more hallways he passed a door just as a smartly dress man in his late twenties came floundering out of a door carrying a scruffy piece of paper. His nose scrunched at the sight of Bucky, clearly not familiar with his face.
Bucky stopped dead in front of him, his nose upturned. He pointed to the paper with an air of frustrated inconvenience. "Make mine a flat white. I'll be in the visitors' lounge." He continued without so much as a second glance. He could just about hear him scrambling for a pen as he turned another corner. If he remembered him it was inconsequential. An intern was the last person to kick up a fuss or an inquiry over a missing coffee reciprocate.
The visitors' lounge had been one of the first stops on his tour with George. It was a glorified hotel but without the rooms. It had a fine dining area where some far travelling guests where having gourmet breakfasts with a sweeping view of the New York skyline. In another part was a lounge with hoards of company books and reports published by the scientists in which a handful of old men where leisurely smoking cigars and sipping coffees (though he also noticed there were whiskey glasses probably for later in the evening). It had been the first indication that their hunch about the business was right.
Even as he progressed through the offices he could see that many people he passed (who were of any position higher than a coffee runner) were regarding him with welcoming smiles or solid nods, meaning that they were used to highly influential investors walking around. That was a part he could play. He was trained to adapt to any role and here… he was in his element. He weaved through the offices, turning corner after corner until he came across what he was looking for.
A great glass window looked out onto the city. With a glance to ensure he wasn't being watched he pulled out the pen he had in his pocket it and ran it along each edge of the window, before replacing it. He walked away consulting a small map displayed on his watch before inserting his comms into his ear. "South-East corner, 32nd floor."
Bucky was impressed, the addition of all the technology was necessary if they left no trace (according to Sam) but he hadn't expected things to go so smoothly. He had been trained as a soldier to trust only his own abilities and instincts, it was foreign territory to trust technology, especially based on someone else's reasoning.
As the Winter soldier, he never worked with a team or any kind of backup. The only points to consider were himself and the job and it made life so much easier. To be working with all these people with differing plans, views and even styles of infiltration. It was so much to factor in. He realised that it was a lot harder to adapt to a situation when there were other people to consider so for the moment he was enjoying running the mission solo. That was until he turned a corner and ran headfirst into a teenager.
The kid reeled back. His face inflating like a balloon. "Bucky?!" He cried in surprise.
Bucky stared. His brows knitting together. He had no time to react as the kid threw his weight on him sending them careening through a door into a storeroom. The physical action jolted his brain back and he threw the small frame against the wall, his arm across the top of his chest pinning him and restricting his breathing.
"Who-" he began but the kid shushed him.
In the silence, they heard shuffling outside the door as someone walked down the corridor. A mumbled static of a security guard's comm system could just be heard by his advanced hearing.
They remained there, barely moving until the shuffles went beyond earshot.
"Phew, that was close!" The kid exclaimed, his voice gruff from the weight still pressed against his chest.
Bucky dropped him immediately, his mind catching up with events. He took the time to look over the kid properly for the first time. He wore a smart shirt checked with pastel colours, his collar unevenly tucked down and slightly askew. He had a bright name tag that said 'Hi my name is…' on which someone had neatly blocked out the words ' PETER PARKER'.
The kid huffed as he gulped in air, he seemed to be suppressing it as if to act tough. "I think that guy was looking for me, sorry." He winced sheepishly.
Bucky smirked. He recognised the voice. "So you're that Spider-kid." He almost laughed at the ludicrousy of it.
"Man!" He whined unable to stop himself. "Spider-Man."
Bucky raised an eyebrow. He couldn't be more than 16. He looked over him once more as if in a new light. He was a lot shorter than he remembered, lankier also but his muscles were just about visible in the shape of his clothes. He regarded his name badge, seems as though he had a similar idea to them. "How did you get away from the tour group?"
Peter opened his mouth to protest, clearly expecting a different direction from the conversation. "Some guy asked out the tour guide."
"How did he do?"
He cringed. "Absolutely butchered it."
"Oh, George."
Peter laughed as quietly as he could manage. The giddy excitement was beginning to hit him, he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Bucky suppressed a smile, for some reason this scrawny little kid reminded him of Steve when they were younger.
Steve always struggled to be rebellious in school, always either too worried about upsetting people (ie. Bucky getting into trouble) or being so excitable that they were spotted a mile off before they even did anything. Even now Steve needed his childhood friend to bring out his mischievous side and it was rare that he felt up to the task. The horrors that he'd seen were enough to dampen anyone's sense of humour and yet he felt it returning; each passing day new things began to amuse him where they hadn't before. The only stint in his progress was the looming threat of someone gaining complete control over him, causing him to do things he could never come back from.
He looked back to the kid now. He had none of these horrors seeded in his eyes. Only the shining glint of trust and naivety that came with being young. How he envied it. He hated the knowledge that one day he might look at the same person but without that purity that had come before he entered this walk of life.
"How did you get your powers?" He wondered how he could have been dragged in. A sudden curiosity as to whether he had signed up with this or simply been saddled with it. A burden to hold.
Peter seemed shocked at the question and Bucky reflected on his art at conversation. It was clear that he was unpracticed. The kid hesitated before he spoke as if checking the question again in his head before he answered. "Bitten by a radioactive spider on a field trip."
Bucky huffed a laugh. "You're joking."
"Nope." He almost looked smug in the knowledge that his origin was far from cliche. "That's why you never stray from a tour group."
Now Bucky felt the real urge to laugh. "Didn't we both just do that?"
Peter hesitated. "That doesn't count!"
He chuckled "Why not?" The kid was flustered, and Bucky couldn't help but tease.
"Reasons," Peter admitted defeat trying to suppress his snickers and Bucky was shocked to find he had to make a conscious effort not to join him. "Anyway, how did you know it was me? I mean Spiderman was me?" He stuttered. "You know what I mean!"
"It was only a hunch really, you confirmed it yourself. Also, you should probably disguise your voice in the future." He smirked, but taking in the disappointment on the kids face he tried to bring it back. "I'm trained in this though, not many people could figure it out."
His expression lightened at this. He opened his mouth to speak again but was cut off when the storeroom door swung open. The two heads snapped in that direction.
"I can hear you from the corridor, what the hell is going on." It was Sam.
"Bumped into Spiderman." Bucky deadpanned gesturing in Peter's direction.
"Dude not cool!" He cried.
Sam pulled a face. "You have got to be kidding me." He looked the boy up and down and then nodded slowly. "This explains so much."
Peter pouted.
"So much."
"Please don't tell anyone else who I am!" He looked between them, desperately adding, "and please don't tell Mr Stark I'm here!"
"Why are you here?" Bucky almost felt sorry for the kid, he wasn't expecting to be ambushed by Avengers while he was doing a small recon.
"Oscorp is the dodgiest company around, if anyone knows about this new organisation thing Mr Stark is talking about then it's these guys." He paused his features lighting up. "Is that why you're here? Am I right?"
In truth, Sam had never considered a link. He knew that word on the street was that the company was into some bad things, maybe dissecting superhumans was one of them. "No." He couldn't help but burst his bubble. "We're just here to look into a missing employee."
His shoulders slumped. "Well I've just come from the labs there's nothing much there." He rubbed the back of his head absently. "I was gonna head into the control room, see if they have anything on the computer systems worth noting."
"That's where we were headed." Bucky ignored Sams sigh of protest. He pointed to where they were in the corridor, picturing it in his head. "Weren't you going the wrong way?"
Peter shook his head. He grabbed his phone from his pocket. The screen splintered across what looked like a floor plan of the building, in which a room was outlined red. "I pulled it from the server in the labs."
Sam came closer. "That's different from ours." He had pulled up his holo map from the small screen on his wrist, leaning closer still to try and compare the two.
Bucky couldn't help but feel smug. Hacking into a system as sophisticated as Oscorp to find a detailed floor plan was very unlikely; when Romanoff had stumbled upon it they both had a gut feeling it was too good to be true despite Sam's reassurances. "The control room on our map is the security room on his."
"Son of a-" Sam slapped is holo floor plan away. "It was a trap." He turned towards the smug teen. "You got lucky."
Bucky looked between the two. "Well as we are going to the same place we might as well team up."
A muffled squeak came from Peter. He flushed red immediately after. "Sorry. This is exciting."
Sam sighed as heavily as he could manage, an exasperated look filled his features as his eyes pleaded with Bucky. When the super-soldier showed no hope of budging he turned and left, checking quickly that the coast was clear before darting out into the corridor, the map on Peter's phone guiding the way. He didn't bother to check they were behind him, he could practically hear the kid jumping around.
With the new map, they came to the control room within a matter of minutes. It wasn't particularly advanced or well guarded. It was in the public sector after all.
Bucky saw the teen's shoulders slump slightly. They had always known this was a small recon for information so invaluable it was practically public. The kid seemed to have other ideas, his excitement was evaporating but he still forced a smile. He was mildly surprised to see Sam's expression softened.
"Well kid, you good with computers?"
He nodded furiously. "Yes! I'm always fixing up old models and-"
"You come with me then," he snapped, trying to keep his voice light, "Barnes, keep watch." As Peter skipped into the room he shot Bucky an exaggerated eye roll and the Soldier couldn't help but smile.
By the time Sam entered the kid was already at the computer. "So what are we doing? Are we hacking it? My friend is great at hacking stuff! He's been teaching me-"
"Actually," he stepped in before the ramble could continue any further, "we have a device that automatically decodes a firewall." Sam was hoping that would calm him down but he was very wrong.
"No way! That's so cool! Can I see it?" He was practically bouncing on the chair, sat right on the edge of his seat as he tried to peer at the device Sam pulled from his pocket.
It looked like a small USB stick and once again Peter's face fell, that was until he noticed the Avengers logo engraved into the surface. His face expanded like a balloon; Sam bit back a laugh at the comical sight.
"Is that Avengers merch?" He snatched it off him, "merchandise I mean."
"Yeh, I know what merch is." As the kid twirled the small plastic block between his fingers with an awed expression he couldn't help but feel that little bit of warmth inside. He cringed at the cliche. "There are all kinds of things with the logo on not just the building. Stark designs them; I think he gets bored."
At the mention of Stark, he almost flinched. It was odd to see the other side of what had been such a secret for so long. Many people had theories about the mysterious Spider-Man that popped up in a suit that was obviously Stark technology. Clint thought Tony Stark was training him separately for solo missions. Someone else thought Spider-Man wasn't skilled enough so Tony kept him locked away and Nat even suggested that he was an illegitimate son. From what little he know knew it was plain that the first two theories weren't true.
"Don't your parents mind you doing all this web-shooting stuff?"
He recoiled at the question, the USB now passing through his fingers rhythmically as he answered. "Actually, um, my parents died when I was young." He swallowed. "But I live with my Aunt, she's great! She tells me off about it all the time." He laughed weakly. "She was so mad when she found out." His face tightened in fear at the memory.
Sam hummed. "Yeh, I bet." He snatched the device out of his hands. "You're far too young to be doing this." The harshness to his tone surprised even himself. He drove it into the USB socket and pointed up toward the computer deliberately avoiding his eye. "Now go see if anything is interesting."
With the systems now unlocked, he heard Peter scrolling and clicking as he activated the download with his smartwatch. When he was satisfied that the percentage level was slowly grinding up and everything was working, he grabbed a chair and joined Peter at the desk as he examined what appeared to be a shippings log of all exports and imports. He was about to ask to see personal files but suddenly he recognised something.
"Wait wait go back." Sam kept his finger hovering above the data table waiting for the image to catch his attention once more.
Peter scrolled cautiously back up, watching Sam out the corner of his eye.
"Stop!" His finger jabbed a small icon that appeared near a file. "This symbol was inscribed on the bullets we found in Canada when they were ambushed."
"When who was ambushed?" Peter cried his excitement flooding once again.
"Steve and Barnes." He replied absently as he searched the log number into the finder's box bringing up all the information related to the organisation. "They export goods to them." He thought aloud tracing the lines of data.
"So they are linked!" Peter cried, his voice straining as he tried to stay quiet. "You're talking about that Hydra-ish group right?"
"Well, it's definitely a leed." He grumbled.
"So I was right!"
"Lucky." He mumbled begrudgingly. Frustration niggled at his stomach, a lot stronger than he expected. "Doesn't make you any less annoying. Now let's copy these files and get out of here. It's gonna be a lot better for us if we don't get seen."
"Hey!" A cry came from outside the window. They both froze. Their eyes jumping to the security guard just outside the door.
"Hey, can you help me I'm a bit lost." Bucky looked as innocent as possible and the security guard's expression slipped momentarily. He took the advantage. "I'm supposed to be on a tour but my tour guide wandered off without me." His tone was harsh and impatient. "I'm supposed to be a potential investor." He flashed his visitors pass.
Peter and Sam had remained as still as possible, shuffling inches at a time to obscure them from the view of the large windows surrounding the office.
"You shouldn't be in this section it's restricted." He sighed, his posture slumped and not holding the authority it had only moments ago. "The intern lab tour is about to start in the main lobby so there should be a member of staff there that can help you." He gave him a small list of directions, indicating lazily with his hand.
"Thank you." It was curt and lacked the compassion of a true apology but the security guard didn't bat an eyelid. In a place like Oscorp, he was used to it. "I'd appreciate if escort me back to prevent me walking aimlessly around the building again."
"I can't leave my post," he smiled grimly, "sir." He looked over into the neighbouring office. Sam and Peter were now fully covered by the desk but the memory stick was still visible from the monitor. They couldn't remove it yet it wasn't ready. The guard paused. "I'll call one of my colleagues to escort you back." Unimpressed, he reached for the walkie talkie.
"Forget it! I'll find my own way." It was better that fewer people came to the corridor, it meant more chance they were seen. He stormed off, stomping around the corner, his hair flopping out of its stiff greased back form.
They heard the guard pick up his walkie talkie. "We had a rich brat lost in the restricted section." He paused, the faint crackle of a reply barely audible. "No, in the office area, sir." Another pause. "I'll do a sweep." He walked on further down the corridor.
Sam released a breath, they were in the clear for now but the security guard wasn't going far and until the files finished downloading… he turned to Peter and who waved the memory stick triumphantly, his face wide with glee. Sam nodded curtly. It was time to move.
He peered out of the great window that faced the corridor but another security guard had now joined the first.
"Fantastic," Sam mumbled beneath his breath. He cursed at his own idea but it was the safest way to get away unseen. He pulled a pen out of his jacket, it was identical to the one Bucky had used earlier to let him into the building earlier. He nodded towards the window that leads to the street. "Got your webs?" His face contorted at the thought.
Peter smirked. "Be prepared to hold on tight."
Sam's face soured.
AN: Right, so there it is I hope you liked it and I shall update as soon as I can. The next few chapters should get juicy and soon there will be more characters popping for a bit of story action! So favourite, follow, review whatever you feel like really and I shall post shortly.