Peter's POV

Everything feels weird... Even though I'm coming back to the school I was at for almost a year, all my memories of it are blurry... especially the made up ones. I struggle to remember where my locker is, and when I finally get there, I see a suspicious MJ. "Peter, where were you?" she asks, curiously, but I sense a little worry in her tone. "What?" I ask, confused. "When the crazy guy attacked, He looked like the winter soldier, but with lighter hair, and flecks of green in his eyes," trust MJ to get the colour of his eyes. Probably sketched me as well. "-and he had the same powers as you, he could do everything you could, but he had crazy fighting skills, and I compared them to the Winter soldier's and they're exactly the same. I'm betting on Hydra..." I zone out on MJ's theorising, flinching as she brings up the similarities between me and the winter spider. "-and then the Winter Soldier showed up and he said something in this other language, It turned out to be Russian, but flash video tapped it and put it on his instagram so I could-" the colour drains from my face "he what?" I ask. MJ frowns "put it on his instagram. You heard me, Peter." She says, narrowing her eyes at me. "But anyways I google translated it and it said something like release, nd the strange guy seemed to faint, or something. It was like a codeword or something... but the winter soldier picked him up and the other avengers got here" MJ finished. I look at the floor. This is NOT good. 

"What do you think, Peter? Where were you?" I look up, pretending to be thinking "I wasn't aware this was happening," truth, "I don't know where I was." also truth. MJ seems to stare into my soul, but I keep my game face on. "How can you not know where you were, everyone was depending on you to show up" I struggle to keep a 'confused' face, and say "I don't know, but I feel horrible" yes, that's a good idea, pull the 'I feel so sad that everyone within a 10 mile radius will drop whatever they're doing to comfort me' "Someone could have died!" I say, remorsefully, not even having to fake it. I could've killed someone... "Hey, Peter, it's okay. Black Widow came and saved everyone. Can you believe it? It was Natasha Romanoff, the whole 'Miss Portman' thing was fake. I knew something was up" I nod, and we walk to class.

I spend the rest of the day thinking about my mom. And my dad. And the avengers. But mostly Steve. He doesn't understand that I didn't want to kill people, that I'm just like my dad, and it makes me feel even worse, reminds me of the fact that I have removed a family member from someone's famillie, someone's life, someone's heart. I put on a blank face as I leave the classroom, only to be met with Flash Thompson. I'd avoided him all day, but, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. "Hey Puny!" He yells. If only he knew I was more than 10 x stronger than him. "What do you want, Flash," I say, grabbing my bag and my books from my locker. "Bet that cool guy broke into the school to kill you!" I was already dead then. Dead inside my body, with almost no control over what I did, only to watch as I killed countless people. I snort "How can you say he's cool? He tried to kill someone!" I exclaim, shutting my locker. "And? It's bad luck that the avenger's showed up, maybe he actually could've killed you" I roll my eyes, walking towards the exit. "He literally asked for Natasha Romanoff, you dumbass" I say, before swiftly moving out of hell and into the world.

Once I get to the tower, I'm met with a confused security guard. "Um, sir, you don't have permission to-" I walk through the scanners, and Friday welcomes me. That shuts her up. "Can you please take me to Natasha, please?" I ask Friday, as politely as I can once I'm inside the elevator. "Sure" Only now do I realise the strong Russian accent I have. Shit. Has it been like this all day? Is that why all his teachers, MJ, and Flash were looking at him weirdly? Ugh, let me just see my mom and dad. I missed them. "Hey m- Nat" I mumble, walking out of the lift. "Hey, Peter!" Nat says, and pats the spot next to her on the couch. Nat and Clint are the only people here. "How was your first day of school?" Clint asks. "Good, I guess" I mutter, sitting down. "pauk, it's okay if you don't like it, we can-" "I don't" I cut her off, and she smiles.  "That's what I thought" Mom looks at Clint. "Clint, you can be his godfather. I had an argument with James about this earlier, but with the performance Steve insists on, I don't think he really wants him to be the godfather anymore" Clint pumps his fist. "Woo!" He shouts, loudly. So Clint knows. I snuggle up to mom and she pulls me close. I could live with this.

Bucky's POV

I spar with the the punching bag, trying to punch away my fears, but every time I throw a hit, I see another different person in front of me, with the same expression: complete and utter terror. I see their faces so vividly, and it's always too late to stop myself, so my hand connects with fatal parts in the person's body: temple, throat, Achilles tendon... And it's me. This is always a reminder of all the people I've killed. I was trained... the programming and reflexes stuffed into my brain; it was all to kill. I knew a variety of "safe" moves, but they almost always came second. Everytime I move, kick, punch, I try to un-imagine it. Make all the schizophrenic people go away. That's the trouble of remembering: Everytime I see them, their story comes back to me, how I killed them, what their last words were... I throw a harder punch, and my fist goes straight through the bag, detaching the bag from the ceiling, and my last victim falls to the ground.

I don't know what to do, in truth. I'm around people I love too much to lose. Natalia, Peter, Steve... Heck, even Tony. No, especially Tony. If he died because of me, I'd have to add that to the 3rd Stark I'd killed. And I don't even want a higher kill streak. I unwrap the gauze and take a quick shower. I check my watch, 4:30... Peter would've gotten home ages ago! I step into the elevator, and Friday takes me up to the living room. I walk into Peter snuggled up to Nat, and quietly listening to her and Clint talk. I grab Clint by the shoulder and move him sideways. Look, I had to, he wouldn't have moved over otherwise! "ow" he mutters. Oops. I fall onto the couch, and look around and smirk "Did I interrupt something?"

"Yes, actually" Clint says, smugly. My heart drops as I look at Nat, who seems to be wearing a look that says I'm sorry. I can't lose her, or Peter, I just got them back... "We were discussing how much custody I get over Peter-" My gaze turns empty. Clint smiles at me with a shit-eating grin. "-As his godfather" oh. Well, I may have overreacted. "Hold on, when did we decide this?" I ask, and Peter cuts in "Just then. Mom said because you and Mr Rogers were fighting, she thought it was best that Clint is my godfather" well that explains why she looked like that. "Ok, well that's fine. May I speak to you in private, Nat?" Nat frowns. "Sure" she says, and I lead her into a soundproof room.

"Is this about godparent-ship? Cause-" Nat starts to say but I cut her off. "No! No, I said that was fine. I'm just..." I sit down on a chair, and rest my elbow on the table. "I'm worried about Steve" I manage to say, and Nat sits down. "Oh" she says. She knows she's the only one I trust enough to spill how I really feel to. "I just- I don't trust him to be around Peter, he's too righteous, he'll end up getting in a fight" I run my hands through my hair, and clear my throat "It's tearing me apart, Nat. I'd choose Peter over Steve, but do I really have to sacrifice our friendship for this? Why can't Steve just see that Peter is a victim as well!" Nat grabs my hand. "Hey," she says, softly. "We'll figure something out, alright?" I look up at her, and take in all of her beauty. The striking green eyes, the fiery red hair, everything about her is perfect. I'm privileged to have her. "Alright" I say, quietly, and we head back towards the others.

More people pour into the room as the time goes by, and by 5, most of the avengers are here. Clint and Peter are playing Mariokart ("Godfather and Godson bonding" Clint calls it. "Also, who will be my Godwife?"), and everyone else is just lounging around being lazy. "Hey kiddo," Tony asks, and I tense up. Peter turns around. "Yeah?" He asks, and I'm glad to hear his sunshiney voice again. "Do you know who your parents are?"

rip

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