Boys like Boys|| Peter Parker

.8.

June, 2015

"What're you doing?"

"Er— Dancing" 

There they were. Two socially awkward ex-assassins in a cramped kitchen at 3 a.m. 

"Why are you.... dancing at 3 a.m?"

"I couldn't sleep. I guess neither can you" Oliver said. It wasn't really that unusual for any of them to wake up in the middle of the night. They both had lived through their fair share of nightmare worth things and now were being haunted by their pasts. 

For Bucky it was years of torture, pain, and being forced to be someone he wasn't. 

For Oliver it was pretending to be someone he wasn't, being controlled and manipulated his whole life. 

Oh and we can't forget the murders. Loads of murders.

Oliver hummed to the tune of the track they always played in the red room. It annoyed him greatly, because he had been hearing that damn song for years, it made him feel insane sometimes. But now that everything was different, it made him feel like himself. 

He didn't really know who he was actually. A mixture of a little lost boy and a cold hearted killer he supposed. He wanted to be someone else, anyone else. 

Oliver rose to his toes. Years of practice and now it didn't hurt as much as it used to. 

He closed his eyes. He was too scared to think of the red room so he imagined himself at a ballet recital, one with Bucky in the audience. It alarmed Oliver how fast Bucky had become a part of his life. 

The kitchen was small, but Oliver performed all his moves in one place. He didn't touch any counters, he didn't open his eyes. It was like a grounding exercise for him. He didn't want to forget the red room, but rather he wanted to feel above it, to finally let go of that fear. 

For the first time in years he had hope at making his life, his own. 

"Wow"

"I would've preferred some applause"

Bucky shrugged and Oliver shoved him playfully, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

There was a little window behind the boy, which he was then looking through. It was dark out, but the sky was a beautiful shade of dark blue, kind of like the edge of Bucky's iris. There was an eerie silence, only disturbed by the occasional car or some animal sound. 

It was peaceful. Yet, Oliver's mind would not stop racing, the latest nightmare had been terrifying and unrealistic, still the boy couldn't find it in himself to look Bucky in the eyes. What if the older man found out that Oliver had killed him in his dream? 

Okay, that was a really dumb fear. 

"You eat anything, kid?" Bucky spoke up finally. 

"No, not yet. But I was thinking about working out first then making a sandwich and going for a run"

"How about you skip working out today, and don't go for a run either?" Bucky lay a hand on Oliver's shoulder and the boy turned around to face him. Bucky was looking out the window too, but his eyebrows were drawn a little tighter than they usually were and his frown was a bit deeper too. 

He was worried about something.

"We've been here for too long" Oliver agreed, "We shouldn't go out unless we're changing locations"

 Bucky nodded, his face fell a bit when he saw Oliver's. His expression was sharp as always— eyes straight ahead, fingers flexing as if looking for a weapon— everything a soldier— no a weapon should be. But he was a kid. 

"Why don't you go pick a movie— I'll make us breakfast" Bucky told him, a faint memory of his childhood resurfacing. In it he could remember fuzzy faces and a huge dinner table. There were at least five people, maybe more and all of them had smiles on their faces and breakfast on their plate. That's what families did, they had breakfast together and they smiled together. Normal families didn't worry about assassins and murderers. But then again, any family involving Bucky and Oliver was far from normal. "How about some Pancakes?"

"Pancakes?" At that, Bucky finally looked down at Oliver whose right eyebrow was raised and he had child like confusion on his face. Seeing it, Bucky couldn't help but chuckle a bit and gasp dramatically. 

"Are you kidding? You've never had pancakes?"

Oliver shook his head, slightly embarrassed.

"I ate them once and now I can't stop thinking about them" Bucky said, "I'm sure it can't be that hard"

It was, in fact, very hard. 

"You amaze me" Oliver raised his eyebrows. An hour or so later and the kitchen counters were filled with black or brown failed attempts at pancakes. The sun was beginning to peek through the horizon, but still Bucky refused to give up. 

 "You can kill people in a hundred different ways but you can't make pancakes?"

"Oh gimme a break" Bucky mumbled, "'Burn everything' is a great plan when dealing with nazis but not so much when making pancakes"

Oliver laughed at that, like a proper full laugh. He was bent over slightly, his eyes squinted so much that they were practically shut. His cheeks hurt and turned a little pink but Oliver couldn't care less. If this was what it felt to be happy, he wanted to be happy forver. 

Bucky flung some batter at the boy who gasped incredulously. 

Without any hesitation, Oliver plunged his hand into the remaining batter and flung it at Bucky, which soon turned into a whole pancake batter war. Before they knew it, the two were laying on the floor in the bedroom utterly exhausted and not being bothered about the mess in the kitchen. 

"You cheated" Bucky said at last. 

"How, pray tell, would I cheat in a game where you fling raw batter at each other?"

"I don't know, but you did"

"You're just a sore loser" Oliver stuck out his tongue the same way he had when Bucky had accused him of cheating during a game of Snakes and Ladders. And for some reason it made Bucky feel so good that he couldn't help smiling. "You look weird when you smile"

"Fuck you"

"Language" Oliver chuckled.

"Look who's talking" 

"I don't know what you're talking about"