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Day 8: “hey, hey, this is no time to sleep”
The sun had already set but Sam and Bucky still had one last stop to make in Queens before they could head back to temporary headquarters and officially call the day done.
With the world trying to find its way in a post- final snap reality, re-establishing the Avengers Initiative had definitely taken priority, but without Tony and Nat, it was proving to be a challenge, especially with Steve only working as a consultant.
Yes, they had Nick Fury and Maria Hill in house, but they’d both been acting kind of strange, almost guilty, in the last few weeks and neither Sam nor Bucky quite knew what to make of it. The two Avengers were working on their own Initiative agenda, tracking down new recruits and pulling in old friends. There was no need to bug Fury and Hill while they were distracted by their own work shit.
Regardless, there was work to do. They just needed to pop in and have a quick chat with one Peter Parker A.K.A. Spider-Man, and they’d be set.
None of the Avengers, save Tony, had really known the kid and no one had really wanted to be the first to reach out after the funeral—trying to respect the grieving process and all that. (Yeah, Sam had read his file and knew that Spider-Man knew loss.) But then Spider-Man had stepped up and really shown the world what he was made of. With all the shit that had gone down in Europe with Quentin Beck—well, it seemed like as good a time as any to get that initial meet-and-greet out of the way.
They came to a stop in front of a non-descript apartment building across from a nice little green space. Sam had heard that Happy had gone and married the kid’s aunt and that they were all playing house together now. It was nice to know that positive things were happening around the kid, too.
Bucky managed to find a parking spot less than a block away from their destination, which for any of the five boroughs, was an absolute win. They approached the building; only for Sam to rush ahead when he saw an older woman with two miniature border collies and an armful of bags struggle to make her way out of the exact building they were heading to.
“Let me get that for you, miss.” He offered as he pulled the door open wide for her.
She barely glanced at him as she passed through, saying nothing.
Sam simply glared at her back.
Bucky sauntered up the stairs and through the door, patting Sam’s cheek and smiling sweetly as he went. “I appreciate you, bud.”
Sam turned his glare on his partner. “Shut up, smart ass,” and they entered the building.
The elevator was just past the bank of mailboxes in the front lobby, with the doors already open and waiting to take them to the sixth floor. “Bucky,” Sam said, “I feel like this is a sign.” He pressed the button for six. “We’re gonna get this meet up done and we’ll still have time to hit that barbecue joint for a late dinner.” He smirked at his partner. “And if you’re nice to me, I might even share my coleslaw with you.”
Bucky stared up at the numbers climbing. “You can keep your coleslaw, Sam. I got enough cabbage in my Ma’s soup growin’ up.” He looked over to Sam, “But I could still go for some barbecue.”
That decided, they settled into Avengers mode—they had a job to do.
The elevator stopped at the sixth floor, its doors opened, and the two men stepped out and headed toward apartment #615. Bucky knocked.
And no one answered.
Bucky knocked again, louder, and the man living in #610 opened his door to see who was in the hall.
“Sorry about that, sir. We’ll be quieter,” Sam waved and offered an apology. “Everything’s alright.”
The man scowled at the two men and begrudgingly shut his door.
Bucky knocked a third time, “You called the kid to tell him we were coming, right?” he asked Sam.
He scoffed, “Of course I didn’t. You’ve seen the kid’s file. He’s a geek. Where else would he be on a Friday night?”
Bucky turned to make an epic comeback when the sound of glass breaking came from the other side of the door. Instead he said, “You heard that, too, right?”
With a sharp nod, they each pulled out their sidearm and prepared for entry. Bucky grasped the doorknob with his vibranium hand and gave a tight squeeze then twist, rendering any apartment management supplied locking mechanism useless.
The door opened.
With trained eyes, the two men entered and immediately noted the open window with its curtains billowing in the breeze. Scanning the room, they also noted the broken vase and flowers scattered across the hallway floor leading to the bedrooms.
They moved in tandem, weapons poised and ready to deal with whatever they found, but first Bucky called out, “Peter?”
Nothing.
They moved down the hallway, Sam clearing the bathroom while Bucky cleared the office space across from it.
Bucky called out again, “Peter? It’s Bucky and Sam from the Avengers. Are you in here?”
Bucky heard the sound first, coming from the last room on the left. He could only assume it was Parker’s bedroom from the radiation symbol and “Do not enter” sign plastered on the door. He motioned with a glance and he and Sam were both on the same page. Sam moved to one side, with Bucky on the other, guns at the ready. Bucky put his hand on the doorknob, readied to throw the door open and shoot when he heard the quiet, “shit” and a louder commotion.
Sam tried next, “Peter, are you in there? It’s Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes from the Avengers Initiative. Can we speak with you?”
The room grew quiet and a tired voice warbled out, “It’s not a good time, Mis-er Avengers... maybe tomorrow?”
Bucky and Sam exchanged a look. “Peter? It’s Sam. Can I come in?”
Both of them heard the rustle of blankets. “No, thank you! Really. Come back tomorrow?”
Something wasn’t right. “Peter, we’re coming in.” Sam hollered back. He and Bucky counted back and Bucky threw the door open. With a quick check, they cleared the room and Sam holstered his weapon, assigning Bucky the task of playing guard without a word.
“Peter,” Sam spoke quietly now, “We’ll leave you be in a minute. We just need to make sure there’s nothing going on here that we should be concerned about, okay?”
The Star Wars comforter rustled again as Peter moved under the bedding. “I’m absolutely fine, thank you very much! You can go now!” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself at this point.
Sam had to know. “Peter, I’m pulling the blanket back, kid. I just gotta see you and then we’ll go, okay?”
The two could hear the sigh of resignation. “okay.”
Sam grasped the edge of the blanket and pulled it back with care, revealing one very, very beat up Spider-kid. “Well, shit.”
“Don’ tell May I went out, please?” The kid pleaded.
Sam ignored the request—it wasn’t relevant in this moment-- and sat down on the bed beside Peter, already performing a visual assessment of any injuries that might need immediate treatment. Both of the kid’s eyes were bruised and swollen, one was completely shut and he could see two separate places on his face alone that Peter would need stitches. “Bucky,” he called back over his shoulder, “I need you to get the kit outta the car, fast.”
Without a word, Bucky was out of the room.
“You don’t have to do this, Mr. Wilson.” Peter mumbled, “There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom and then I’m just gonna go to sleep and I’ll be good by tomorrow.” He reached blindly for the edge of his comforter.
Sam shook his head and sighed, “Kid, it looks to me like you were about to try to sleep it off, and that isn’t happening. Besides, if you think that I can walk away from you looking like this and be okay with it, you obviously haven’t met me.”
“We have met,” he said petulantly. “Only once, at the funeral...” he trailed off.
Sam didn’t quite know how to take that, but the boy had to be feeling like hot garbage so he’d leave it for now. “Okay well, count this as our first OFFICIAL meeting, Spider-Man. Nice to meet you.”
Peter glared at him, “Are we really doin’ this now?”
Bucky rushed into the room, “Here’s the kit, Sam.”
“Thanks, man.” Sam took it and placed it on the bed, then turned back to Peter who had yet to sit up, “Okay, now, can you sit up or are we doing this lying down?”
Sam waited for Peter to answer.
“Lying down it is then.” Sam got up and washed his hands before coming back in and opening the kit.
Peter was obviously unimpressed with the entire situation, but Sam couldn’t give a rat’s ass about some teen angst. “Alright, do I need to know anything about under the superhero suit?”
Peter pretended to look at a poster on his wall and bit his lip. There was no way he was actually looking at anything with that eye of his.
“Is it the ribs? Or something else?”
And Peter still didn’t answer.
Sam sighed and prayed silently for strength. “Kid, we can do this here or we can do it at HQ. If you don’t answer, I will assume you can’t answer and I will call for a medical team to come and haul your ass all the way over there. That will mean paperwork for me and for Bucky, and I sure as hell do not want to be doing paperwork when I could be watching Netflix.” Sam addressed Bucky, “Do you want to be doing paperwork tonight, Bucky?”
Bucky was leaned against the doorframe, looking far too amused. He shook his head. “I do not, Sam.”
“Exactly!” Sam exclaimed. “Do you hear what I’m sayin,’ kid?”
“Yeah,” Peter whispered after a beat. “I hear you.”
“Good, now tell me what’s happening, Peter.”
“I’m not lyin’—I’ll be ‘kay if I can jus’ sleep.” His speech was starting to drag.
“And I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.” Sam grabbed the penlight from the kit and moved to Peter’s head. “I’m just gonna give your eyes a check before we do anything else.”
Sam looked at those eyes again and cringed. “This is gonna hurt, but I’m gonna go as fast as I can, okay?”
Peter closed his eyes, like he was bracing himself, and gave a quick nod, “’kay.”
Sam was quick, like he promised. He didn’t need that long to see the tell-tale signs of concussion. He sat back, turned the penlight off, and looked at the kid. “You were going to go to sleep with a pretty nasty concussion, do you know that? You should be at a medical facility.”
“They don’ make you stay anymore—no rooms.” Peter replied.
The kid had a point. “Yeah, but then folks are released to family or friends who will keep an eye on them...”
“I have friends...” Peter offered.
Sam looked around the room for effect, regardless of whether or not the boy noticed. “I’m sure you do, but they aren’t here.” Sam looked at Bucky, trying to figure out how their evening had become this. “How’s about this, man, when is your aunt gonna be home? Is she out with Happy?”
Peter visibly flinched.
Yeah, there was definitely a story there.
“Kid?”
“They’re in Vermon’—something about a vin... vineyard or somethin.’” He confessed.
Sam exhaled loudly at that little tidbit of information. “Well... that explains why you didn’t want me to tell her, right?”
“Doesn’ matter. You said you’d go.”
Bucky piped in here, “That was before we figured out that you could die in your sleep, Spider-Man. You were holdin’ out on us, so you gotta cut Sam and me some slack.”
Peter had no rebuttal.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Sam looked at Bucky and gestured toward the living room. Bucky got the gist and headed out. Sam then excused himself from the boy. “Listen, Pete, I’m going to talk to Bucky real quick, I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Pete grumbled and grabbed again for his comforter.
“Na-a, Peter. No getting comfortable. I’m gonna be right back to poke and prod some more, alright? ...just need a minute to make some plans with my partner. Got it?”
Peter nodded so Sam took it for what it was and headed back into the next room.
Bucky started laughing as he saw the look of frustration on Sam’s face, “Hey, Sam, how come nobody told us that Spider-Man was a little shit?!”
Sam’s face darkened and he cuffed Bucky across the chest, “How come no one told you that Spider-Man has enhanced hearing and just heard you call him a little shit?”
Bucky stopped laughing, eyes moving between Sam and the bedroom where the boy lay, listening to them. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, he’s not...” came a quiet voice from down the hallway.
Sam stared back at him.
Bucky groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “Well, shit.”
Sam cocked an eyebrow at him, “Yup. So here’s what we’re gonna do. You are going to head in and apologize for being the big shit to his little shit and I am going to grab some information and call his aunt—see when the two of them are coming back. Okay?”
Bucky nodded.
Sam got serious, “Hey, I know you wanted to relax tonight, but if you want to bail, I’ll just make the call and then you can be on your way, okay?”
Bucky disagreed, “Nah, I’m here for the whole enchilada, buddy.” He grasped Sam’s shoulder in support. “Let’s get this kid squared away and we can grab the helicopter one day next week to fly in and grab the barbecue.”
Sam chuckled, “Bucky, I’ll just grab my wings and give you a lift. How does that sound?”
“How’s about we worry about semantics later? I have to go pull my head out of my ass with the kid and you have to find a phone number... which appears to be stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet.” Bucky pointed to the kitchen and then headed down the hall.
Sam had his phone out and was dialling May’s cell phone within a minute, only to find the call going unanswered.
And then Happy’s—the same.
As a last resort, Sam was currently being connected to May and Happy’s hotel room... with an eventual return to the front desk and a promise that a message would be delivered as soon as possible.
Well, that was not good.
And neither was the urgent call from the bedroom, “Sam!”
Sam came running. “What’s goin’ on?!” though he realized what had happened once he took in the vomit covered spider-suit and sheets. “Well, shit.”
“You guys say ‘shit’ a lot.” Peter breathed out.
“Well, yeah,” Bucky explained, “Steve is out of the office most of the time and we ditched the swear jar.”
Peter snorted and made to stand up. “I need to take a shower.”
Both Bucky and Sam rushed the boy, who shrank back onto the bed, now clutching his ribs. “No. I got it... back off.”
“Kid,” Sam was starting to get a little ticked. “You’re being ridiculous. Just let one of us help you.”
Peter glowered back. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, you know.”
“I’m not telling you! I’m offering to help!” Sam finally snapped.
“WHY?!” Peter yelled. “I’ve needed help for months and I’ve gotten nothing!”
Sam stopped short. “What are you talking about? No one has said a word about you needing...”
Peter groaned and put his hand up, “Just stop. I’ll prove it.” Peter fumbled in his messed and soiled bed for his phone, put it on speaker and dialed.
A familiar voice answered. “What do you want now, Mr. Parker?” Nick Fury’s voice boomed impatiently over the line.
“Mr. Fury, sir,” Peter replied, “I’m calling about that drug ring I told you about. I’m hoping that maybe Mr. Falcon or Sergeant Barnes would be free to back me up. I’ve got some solid intel...” He looked Sam as in the eye as he could for all of the swelling as he spoke.
“Mr. Parker,” Nick Fury tersely, “I already told you. Most of our Avengers are still off on assignments so you’re on your own for at least another few weeks.”
“Are you sure, Mr. Fury? I’d even take some SHIELD agents, if you could spare ‘em. I mean, you know the police are still stretched with the reversal and all... but—”
Nick sounded like he was losing patience, “Look kid, if anyone pops in, I’ll send’em your way, but that’s all I can offer... now stop calling me unless a purple jackass with a glove kink shows up in Queens.” Nick laughed at this own joke as he hung up the phone.
Peter disconnected, and stared silently at Sam, then at Bucky as they both processed what they’d heard.
“I needed help after Tony’s funeral, you know. It wasn’t big, but I was having a hard time being Spider-Man when all I wanted was Iron Man.” Peter’s lip trembled, but he forced himself to sit straight. “And then in Europe? I knew it was too big for me... and I screwed up so bad! But I asked for help then, too... from any of you!”
Bucky stepped up then. “Tell us about the drug ring. Sam and I can help right now.” He looked desperate to prove himself to the boy.
Peter laughed and gestured to himself. “I’ve already taken care of them, but thank you very much.”
He moved to the end of the bed. “At first I figured it was some sort of baptism by fire thing—needing to prove my mettle and all that.” His legs dangled for a moment before putting his feet flat on the floor. “And then I realized something. I realized that you all blamed me for the death of Iron Man. I know that it’s my fault that Tony did what he did... that he was on that field because of me... died because of m—“ Peter choked on his words and stopped, taking deep, controlled breaths.
“It was my fifth call when I finally figured it out... or at least most of it.” And then the tears started to flow. “I’m not sure if it’s all of you, but some of you must hate me something fierce for what I caused and... ” he used the back of his hand to wipe away the wetness from his cheeks, “and you must want me to suffer.” He pushed himself up to standing, blanching in that moment. “Well, surprise, Mr. Wilson and Sergeant Barnes,” he nodded politely to them both. “I am.”
Peter waited for either of them to say something to him, but neither did.
He cleared his throat. “Than’ you for the rush of ‘drenaline, not only did I make sense, I may just be able to make it through m’ shower now.” Peter took one step, and then another before dropping to the floor. Bucky and Sam both dived for him but Bucky only barely managed to keep Peter’s head from connecting with the hardwood floor.
Sam kneeled beside him again, lightly patting his cheek. “Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep, Peter.” He tapped a little harder. “Peter! Peter Parker! Open your eyes for me, buddy.”
His eyes fluttered open, then closed again.
Bucky and Sam stared at each other over the boy’s prone form.
“Do we even bother calling for a med evac?” Bucky asked.
Sam thought for a second and shook his head, no. “I’m not bringing this boy within fifty miles of headquarters until we know what the hell is happening with Fury.” He looked over to the boy’s bed. “We’ll take care of him here.”
“Stay here then. I’m gonna get the puke off the bed and grab a cloth for you to clean him up a little.” Bucky announced and jumped up to pull off the soiled comforter.
“Yeah, pass me the first aid kit again, too. I’m gonna take care of these stitches while he’s out.” Sam held out his hand again.
Between the two of them, they settled the boy in his bed and finished tending to him. The stitches and cold packs were easy. Peter had been right, though. The remainder of it would require rest... and a precautionary wake up every two hours whether he needed it or not.
And come morning, Sam and Bucky would start working on the rest.