He pulled a zip tie from the same pocket and tied Coulson's hands together, ignoring the blood from the headwound. He'd live, or not, but that was the price one paid for choosing the wrong team, now, wasn't it? With a final sneer, he stood up, again, and left the bathroom, stopping long enough to jam the door shut and then hang an out of order sign on the knob.

Rumlow watched as he walked over.

"Well?"

"Problem solved."

The bell rang somewhere overhead, and the hallways were suddenly filled with students. Both men waited as the door to the classroom Peter was in opened, and kids from that room rushed out as well, all talking about one thing or another, and none paying any attention to the SHIELD agents.

They were used to seeing security by Peter's classes by then.

OOOOOOO

Peter was one of the last ones out of the classroom.

He held back to talk to the others on his build team about going to the tower on Monday; when they would meet and what time they should tell their parents to come get them when they were finished. He and Tony had already discussed all that, so it wasn't a long conversation with the other kids and Peter was soon putting his things in his backpack, talking amicably to his teacher as the rest of the students left the room.

He looked over at the door, somewhat surprised that Phil wasn't standing there, waiting for him. The boy wasn't concerned, though, since he might be just to the side, wanting to avoid the last of the kids leaving the room.

"Big plans this weekend?" his teacher asked, also gathering his things, but then sitting at his desk.

He had papers to grade, after all.

Peter smiled, and shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Might just stay at home."

"With Tony Stark, I imagine that's pretty exciting, too."

The boy nodded, feeling a happiness rising in him that he couldn't help. It was exciting. And amazing, really. He never got tired of the idea of going home with Tony and being able to call him dad.

"It is," he agreed.

"Your agent's here?"

"Outside," Peter confirmed.

"I'll see you Monday."

The boy was young, but he knew a dismissal when he heard one. He wasn't hurt, though. He knew that his teacher had a lot to do, and he probably wanted to get home and start his weekend, too.

"See you."

Peter slung his backpack to his shoulder and headed for the door, still smiling, but he suddenly felt an ache in his stomach just as he walked out the door, and saw that it wasn't Phil waiting for him, but two others.

Sitwell smiled, but it didn't light up his eyes the way a real smile normally would, the boy noticed right away.

"Hey, Peter. Are you set?"

"Where's Phil?"

"You're supposed to say hello," Rumlow said, scowling.

"It's fine," Sitwell replied, quickly, giving his partner a reproving look. "Agent Coulson had to go. He left us in charge of your detail – to get you back to the tower."

"He didn't say anything to me," Peter said, uncertainly. His stomach was aching something fierce, but even more; something was nagging at him. Screaming, really, and telling him that there was something wrong. "He said that they would tell me if there was going to be any change in plans."

"It came up pretty quick," Sitwell said. "He didn't want to interrupt your class."

"Let's go," Rumlow said, impatiently. "Stark's waiting for you."

"He is?"

"He always does, right?"

"Yeah." Peter hesitated, though. "I should call him…"

"No need to," came the reply. "He's in a meeting, right now, and you don't want to interrupt him, right?"

"No."

"He'd be pretty pissed if you did that, I bet," Rumlow added. "Might decide to ground you, or something."

"Tony wouldn't do that."

That much Peter was sure of.

"Come on," Sitwell said – and now he sounded impatient, too. "Let's go."

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"It can wait."

"No. It's right there," Peter added, pointing at the door just down the hall. He didn't really need to go, but he was so sure that something was wrong that he wanted to get away from the two agents – just to make a call and make sure everything was okay. He didn't think that Tony would really mind; he might be glad that Peter was being so careful. "It'll only take a minute."

"It's out of order," Rumlow said, grabbing for Peter's arm. "Come on, kid, we have other things to do, today."

"Hey!"

Peter pulled back, and yelped when he felt the man's grip tighten on his arm in a crushing hold – even through the bulk of his coat.

"Relax, Peter," Sitwell told him, also reaching for him, but being much more careful. "We're just going to the tower, it's okay."

"No. Let me go!"

The boy tried to jerk his arm away, and almost freed himself, much to the surprise of the two men who were holding him. They responded by picking him off the ground and taking away his ability to get any leverage, and ended up carrying him down the hall between them.

"Let me go," Peter said, writhing on their grips, now, and scared, because he was sure something was wrong. No one had treated him like this and he knew Tony wouldn't approve. "Let me go!"

His yells echoed in the empty hall, but a teacher poked her head out of her room and looked at the two men, oddly. Sitwell shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

"Kids… always throwing tantrums, right?"

The teacher didn't look convinced, but they didn't give her a chance to pursue the conversation, turning the corner, immediately.

"Let me go!" Peter yelled, again, his voice going higher. "I'm going to tell."

"Do your worst," Rumlow replied, squeezing even righter on Peter's upper arm and making the boy screech with pain as the bones and muscles were punished. "Shut up, or we'll shoot the next person we see."

Peter was shocked at the threat – and from the look on Sitwell face, so was he.

"Let go of me…" the boy repeated, squirming but not screaming – although his eyes were bright from tears.

His arm hurt. A lot.

"In a minute," Sitwell told him. "We're going to take you to-"

"Shut up," Rumlow snapped. "He doesn't need to know where-"

Peter had heard enough. They were getting close to the door and he instinctively knew if they got him out of the school, he wasn't going to be safe. He jerked his arm as hard as he could, even though the grip that the man had was painful.

"Let me go!"

It almost worked. The grip loosened, because Rumlow was shocked at just how strong Peter was – even with his feet off the ground like they were. The agent scowled, and his free hand came up and he slapped Peter – hard.

"Shut up, you little bastard, or I'll-"

The gunshot was shockingly loud in the hallway, and Peter was almost dragged out of Sitwell's grasp when Rumlow was tossed backward by the impact. The painful grip released Peter and the man crumbled to the ground, the boy and the other agent shocked into silence as they watched blood pooling under his head – although the mark on his forehead was almost so small that it seemed inconsequential.

A shadow blocked the light from the school's front door, drawing the attention of both Peter and Sitwell, and the SHIELD agent gasped, softly, even as his grip on Peter shifted, until one arm was around Peter's body, holding him against him in the front, while the other hand pulled his sidearm.

Natasha Romanoff watched him, her pistol in her hand, but the weapon moving away so it wasn't pointed at Peter, now, but still toward Sitwell. Her eyes were cold, and her expression was as deadly as the gun in her hand.

Amazingly – or maybe not – Peter saw smoke curling from the barrel of the gun she was holding.

"Let him go…"

"That isn't going to happen, Nat."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You aren't walking out of here with him."

"I have to…" His grip tightened on Peter, who struggled against the hold, his frightened eyes watching Romanoff as she stood between them and the door. "They want him."

She didn't ask who, and he saw something in her expression that made him bring his gun forward, to train it on her rather than threatening to aim it at Peter as he'd been doing. Peter saw the gun moving toward her and screamed, afraid that she was going to get hurt, and even as Sitwell started to yell at him to shut up, the man yelped, instead, when the boy bit his arm.

Hard.

He automatically dropped Peter before he could realize what he was doing, but he was skilled enough that his gun didn't leave its target. As Peter fell to the floor, however, it wasn't Natasha Romanoff who acted. The yelp ended with a horrible gargling sound as an arrowhead suddenly emerged from the front of his throat, and the gun clattered to the floor as Sitwell did, as well.

"Natasha!"

Peter didn't even look at the man who had tried to take him. He only had eyes for her. Luckily. She swept him into her embrace with the hand that wasn't holding her gun, even as a sudden wave of men and women in SHIELD uniforms rushed through the front door around them.

"Are you alright?" she asked, passing her gun to one of the others since she needed both hands to hold Peter, who was trembling, violently, and clinging to her, crying. "Did they hurt you?"

"They wouldn't let me go."

His voice was muffled by her shirt, and she looked at Clint, who walked over, stepping over the body of Sitwell.

"Nice shot."

He nodded, his bow still in his hand, but the other reaching out to run his fingers through Peter's hair.

"Had to wait for Peter to get in the clear, first. Nicely done, little man."