Peter Parker Oneshots

Metal Arm Pals

Word Counter: 899

No-one knew that Peter was captured by HYDRA when he was younger, he went to extreme lengths to hide it. When he would wear long-sleeve shirts or hoodies, the team would think that he was covering his frail figure, or injuries when he got them. When he wouldn't react when people touched his left arm, they thought it was his spider-sense sens that had warned him of the pperson about to touch him, or him not trying to show weakness. But he was covering his only weakness, the metal arm. The constant reminder of when he was kidnapped, tortured and submitted into harming others.

Bucky was more open about it, showing it to his family, but was just as self-conscious. The fact that he was a weapon was always at the back of his mind, wondering when it would be that he would hurt someone once more. But that thought at the back of his mind, would come forward when he relaxed to go to sleep, often resulting in nightmares. That no-one could help with.

This was one of those days. Peter was walking to the kitchen to get water, recovering from his bad dream as well, when he heard whimpering coming from Bucky's room. He slowly pushed the door open to see the older man. His hair was disheveled, the sheets drenched in sweat with the duvet laying crumpled up on the floor. Peter walked over and run his fingers through Bucky's shoulder-length hair, and the result was almost instant. His breathing slowed, and he started waking up. His eyes flickered open to see Peter sitting on the bed next to him, still threading one of his hands through the black locks. "How- normally no-one can wake me up from my nightmares."

Bucky sighed before speaking again. "I'm sorry for waking you. You should go back to sleep."
Peter smiled but didn't move, his eyes focused on his own hands. "I was awake anyways, I had a bad dream."
Bucky's eyebrows furrowed at those words. "What about?"
"You tell me about yours, and I'll tell you about mine?"
"Mine was about HYDRA. The things they made me do. The faces in my memory that I can't get rid of."
"Mine was about HYDRA too. I don't tell people about my past much but it's not like anyone would judge." Peter rolls his sleeve up slightly, and a glint of steel gleamed in the darkness. He slipped his glove off to reveal his metal hand. "Hence the reason I wear long-sleeved shirts all the time. It's not the fear of people finding out, or the fear of people running from me, or finding me a danger. Yours is detachable but mine isn't. Watch this."
Peter took off his shirt to reveal the arm, covered in patches of dried blood. "People say that blood never washes off your hands, but it truly never washes off of my arm. Come on, we can sleep in my room, your bed will need stripping in the morning."
Peter took Bucky's flesh hand in this metal one, and guided him out of the room, making sure to close the door behind him. They walked down the hall to Peter's room, where inside Peter lifted his bed and pulled out an air mattress and layed on it. "You're taking my bed Bucky, I know you don't sleep most nights. I'm not taking no for an answer."
Bucky flashed Peter a tight smile before laying down in the bed. "Get up here Pete. You're not laying on that flat airbed for the entire night."
So Peter joined Bucky on the bed, laying next to him while carding his fingers through the man's hair once again, both hands this time. Bucky fell asleep again just like that.

In the morning, Peter put on his infamous long-sleeved top and the pair walked out together, both slightly smiling. When the pair walked into the kitchen, Tony spit out his coffee and everyone else stared at them.
"Did, did you two? Ya know?" Tony said, linking his hands together.
"Tony I'm a minor that's disgusting. Bucky had a nightmare, I helped him with it, no more no less." Peter says simply.
Steve's, who was engaged in his newspaper, nearly broke his neck at the force his head jerked up, staring at Bucky. Bucky just smiled.
"He's right, the best I've slept in months and I don't know how he did it." Bucky just chuckled at the memory.
"My secret Bucky." Peter turns his head towards the man and grins.

Later, everyone is training when Peter walks in, and all heads turn to him. "I'm done hiding behind long-sleeved vests."
He smiles towards Bucky, who steps out of the sparring ring and walks up to him. "Are you sure?"
"Like I said, I'm done hiding." Peter ripped his shirt off of his body, revealing scars, but most importantly his metal arm. His family swarms him, looking at his scars and prosthetic with pity and anger in their eyes.
"I didn't do this to be pitied by your eyes. Before you asked, the people who did this paid in ways worse than my memory was wiped. Worse ways than I tortured and killed people. So it doesn't weigh so heavily on my shoulders anymore. They got what they deserved. Now come here and give me a hug."

The next day, when both ex-assassins come out with spray-painted arms and stickers stuck on all of their upper body scars, no-one was surprised.