Peace of Mind (Winterfrost & Peter Parker)
Peter receives a visit from someone he'd never thought to see upclose. He wouldn't say it was a bad experience but he sure is in more trouble than he ever wanted to be. But after all, what could possibly be worse than an ex assassin hiding in his apartment?
Right. A god who want's to see earth burn.
Chapter One : The Winter Soldier
Peter was tired. But who was he even kidding, he was far more than just that. He was exhausted. Juggling school and his shifts at work seemed like such a doable thing. But he guessed it was not. Quitting wasn't an option though since someone had to pay for his bills and the chances of him winning in the lottery were pretty much slim. He threw his backpack on the ground when he entered his small apartment and locked the door. His legs were only seconds away from giving in and the boy realised that maybe his spider powers weren't a cure for everything. At least not his exhaustion.
All Peter wanted to do was bury his stressed body under his covers, wrap himself up like a burrito and sleep. But there was no time. Homework needed to be done, projects needed to be finished and he promised his boss that he would be going over all the numbers again just in case. It sucked. It really did. He had so much to do that he barely had any time to himself anymore which meant his duty as Spider-Man would go down the drain.
He sighed and dragged himself through the dark living room, not even bothering to turn on the lights. When he finally reached his door he pushed it open. Peter didn't move. Instead he stood motionless in the doorway, his eyelids heavy and his gaze looking at nothing in particular. There was an empty feeling inside of him that kept pulling him back into darkness. The thoughts in his head louder than ever. But without saying a word he took a few steps forward again, stopping right in front of his cozy bed and letting himself fall into the cold fabric. He let out a small grunt as his head collided with his pillow.
"Just a few minutes." Peter mumbled more to himself than to anyone in particular, his eyes already closing. "'s only a nap, I promis'." and he was gone.
It didn't come as a surprise when the boy woke up a couple hours later, the sun barely shining over the rooftop of the building in front of his apartment complex. He looked at his alarm clock that was standing on his nightstand-or well, rather the multiple books stacked on top of each other.
Peter sat up slowly, trying to get rid of the sleep still lying in his eyes. When his method of rubbing the sleep away didn't work he made a mental note to get make himself some coffee later on. As anyone would after waking up, Peter checked his phone. Surprisingly he found a new message from Ned.
'Hey, Peter! Guess what they closed school for today for a SHIELD mission!! Isn't that cool?! They wouldn't tell us why but we got an email. See you after the weekend and don't forget to do your projects!-Ned'
Peter frowned in confusion? The weekend? 'It is already Friday then', his mind concluded. He pushed himself out of bed and slendered to the kitchen.
"Great. No school. No work. Means more time for assignments then." he sighed and grabbed his backpack from the spot on the floor where he had dropped it off the night before. Just as he was about to get his books out he heard a panting coming from the hallway, followed by heavy footsteps and a loud bang against his door. The teen flinched as he saw the door slightly bend inwards. The breathing of whoever was behing that door was now clearly audible, Peter was even sure he could hear a soft wince coming from said person.
"Oh my god, what am I supposed to do?" he whispered as he stood in a panicked state in front of the door still with his open backpack hanging from his right hand. He felt like his feet were glued to the floor, he wasn't able to move a single inch.
The weight from the other side slowly adding to the decreasing stability of the wooden door. If Peter was correct he could even hear metal scratch against the material. He gulped. His mind went through multiple scenarios and multiple options on where to possibly hide but none of them seemed good enough for the teen. Under the table? Too obvious. His room? No, the doorframe is weak, they could easily break in if they wanted to. The ceiling? No it- wait, hang on.
"The ceiling!" Peter nodded hectically and hid his backpack behind his small couch before crawling over the walls up to the safest place he knew at the moment. To give him a little bit more time he hid in the corner over the sink in the kitchen. If the intruder didn't gaze up at him he'd be able to watch him from a safe distance...more or less.
His heart was pounding. It was so fast it almost hurt. And the sound of the door finally giving in surely didn't help as well. Peter held his breath as he heard a heavy figure stumble into his apartment. The person winced with every step they took, it almost sounded like they were in pain. On the contrairy Peter wasn't really sure if it was a wince or a whine. The sounds they made sounded muffled as if something was keeping them from speaking.
Peter heard them closing the door again, unusually gentle if he was being honest. Who breaks into the apartment of someone and gently closes the door after practically tearing it down. He frowned.
A dark haired figure, entered the kitchen, his left hand held tightly against his left thigh. A large gun was strapped to his back along with multiple bullets and other munition. Peter held his breath, trying not to make any sound if possible. If he even blinked it would be the death of him. But to his surprise the man took the gun from his back and put it on the large kitchen table, a few feet away from Peter's hiding spot on the ceiling. He could see the man's hands trembling as he put the other hand that wasn't busy holding his injured leg on the table. Peter could see the man's back rise and fall with every shaky breath he took. His shoulder long brown hair were greasy. A little bit disgusting if Peter was being honest.
The teen's panic seemed to ease a little bit as he aknowledged the miserable state his intruder was currently in. He doubted that he was much of a threat, especially with his gun now no longer in his reach. But something seemed off. His tight black tactical gear was definitely leather, a long sleeve over the right arm and- huh. No sleeve on his left?
Peter realised that the shock and panic made his brain work less than normal because how on earth could he not see the blood stained metal arm clinging to the man's left leg? He must have completely ignored the silver shining limb. But the more present Peter got, the worse his panic attack settled back in. He was in trouble. He couldn't deny thought that the metal arm was one of the coolest things he has ever seen. It was really just a bad timing.
The teen weighted his next mvoes. What to do now? He couldn't let the man bleed out in his apartment but he kinda figured trying to help him would get him killed within seconds. It was either helping him or helping himself.
Peter sighed as he finally came to an agreement with his mind.
'Alright, let's help him.' he thought as he made sure the man really only had the gun on himself. Once Peter was satisfied he quietly cleared his throat, drawing the mans attention back to the door he came through. Now that he had finally turned around Peter could see a black mask covering his face.
'So that's what muffled all his sounds.' he thought, looking at the scared eyes staring straight to the wooden door. The man let go of his injured leg and made his metal hand to a fist. Peter could hear the electrical sounds it made with every move. Although it sounded a little bit off at some movements. Maybe he broke it?
The man's wide eyes were filled with panic. Greasy hair strands were mostly hiding them but Peter knew he was scared. It was ridiculous, really. Shouldn't he be the one almost fainting?
"I- uhm- I- Sir? Ehm- sorry, Mister- uh-mister, I'm up here. A-are you o-okay, sir?" Peter said quietly as he tried to swallow his panic.
The man's head snapped up, looking at directly at Peter sitting in the corner of the ceiling. Once he had spotted the boy his anxious glance turned into hatred and the man went into attack mode. He pulled out a knife from where he must have obviously bound to his right leg and threw it in Peters direction.
"Nonononoo, please! I'm sorry!!" Peter yelled as he let himself drop down from the ceiling and onto the floor where he landed with a loud thud. He groaned but quickly pushed himself up, taking as many steps away from the man as possible.
Once he saw the man run towards him he starded praying. Seriously what else was there to do?
The man grabbed Peter by the throat and pushed him against the wall, making his back crack as it contracted with the hard surface. He winced as a sudden pain shot through him.
"Who the hell are you?" the man mumbled behind his black mask. His eyes were red, possibly from not getting enough sleep, Peter thought. He tightened his grip on the boy's throat, trying to force an answer out of Peter's shaking body.
"P-peter." he answered as quickly as he could. His vision started to blur as the oxygen was slowly cut off from his airways. The hand loosened and Peter finally took a deep breath again. The boy pressed his palms against the cold tiles of the floor once he has slid down the wall he was pressed against. His right hand came up to rub his now aching throat. He looked up, trying to see through the blackness that was only slowly fading.
The man behind the mask was looking down at him before turning around, checking if his gun that he had previously placed on the table was still there. Pleased with it not having moved he made his way over to the kitchen counter. Peter wasn't sure but he seemed to be looking for something. But before he could ask what it was the man pointed to his injured leg.
"Oh uhm, wait a minute, I'll get you something to stop the bleeding with." Peter croaked, still sore from having his throat squished. He got up on shaky legs and took a moment to gain his balance again before making his way to one of the cupboards. On his toes standing he reached for a towel that hadn't been used yet and gave it to the man. With a tiny nod he thanked him and sat down on the chair, still having had Peter's eyes glued to him.
"Can- can you take off that mask?" Peter asked and made wild gestures, not quite knowing what to do with his hands. Could he even take it off? I mean sure it probably wasn't glued to his face but it seemed to be stuck where it was.
The man looked at him with a stern glare before pulling the black mask down with the one unoccupied hand that wasn't trying to stop the bleeding from his leg. He put it on the table next to his gun and looked back at the boy anxiously standing a few feet away from him.
"I won't be here for long. I'll bandage my leg up and leave." he said in a serious tone before returning to wrap the towel around his left leg.
"It's not safe for me to be here." he mumbled, more to himself than to anyone in particular.
"Why not?" Peter asked, his panic slowly fading at the mans now calmer voice. He couldn't make out who the man was. His face, although covered in bruises and scratches, didn't look familiar to him.
"Doesn't matter. I'd like to keep the damage as low as it is." he said as he finished wrapping up his leg. He started to get up but stopped himself as he let out a painful sigh.
"No, you can't leave with that injury?" Peter said in confusion as he took a step towards the injured man sitting at the table. He looked up at the boy in worry as his metal hand clutched at the table to maybe ease the pain a little bit.
"Are you out of your mind, kid? I'm barging in your apartment heavily armed and you force me to stay?" the man chuckled and shook his head.
"That has to be the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
"I- yeah no, it's just that you're hurt and if you go now then they'll probably catch you, right? So maybe stay here until you can walk again? I- I know how to do first aid? Since you don't seem like you'd want to go to the hospital, I mean." the boy defended himself quickly.
For a moment the man thought about it, slowly giving in as in his eyes it seemed pointless trying to argue with him.
"What's your name again, kid?" he asked, trying to be as polite as possible but the chuckle and smug grin on his face probably made it seem like he was onto something.
"Peter, sir." the boy said and stretched out his hand for the other man to shake it.
"James. But for you I guess it's just Bucky." the man with the metal arm said defeated and took Peter's hand.
Chapter Two : The God of Mischief ->
