The Hanging Tree

A memory

Peter pov

I went back to the place I am staying closing the door softly behind me. My job at malwart is going pretty well, and I should be able to get an apartment in Queens after I save up some more.

Something strange happened today, the strange blonde man showed up, and he asked if he knew me. Strangely enough, he looked just like my friend from...

No, it can't be him. He's dead.
I heard he died in a plane crash. Surely it's not him?

I decided to do some research, but still, my results are inconclusive. Most of the credible information is blocked by Shield. Ugh, this makes things so much more difficult for me to do.

I hate having to hack through Shield but ya do what you gotta do.

After about three to four hours of rewriting certain pieces of code, using an untraceable VPN, and a couple of burner IP addresses I finally got through.

"Oof, why must government technology be so hard to get into?"
I mutter out loud.

"Perhaps it's not supposed to be gotten into then." A gruff, yet smooth voice emerged from the shadows.

I frantically turn to it, and a slight bit of silver glimmers in the corner.

"WHO ARE YOU!" I unexpectedly scream, not sure why I'm embarrassed by that but ok.

"Aww, little spider, soo scared? The winter spider, who's eliminated thousands, frightened by me? I'm flattered."

That sickeningly sweet voice, silver - actually what is that? An arm? Who could this be? How do they know about the winter spider? Unless-

Ding! My laptop finished booting up the page, and a file was pulled up with a photo of the man I saw earlier. Blond hair neatly combed, million dollar smile, the name is...

Steven G. Rogers
Captain America
December 21st, 1922
Age: 93
Gender: male
Threat: medium-high,
watch carefully

He's alive. He's who I saw on the street. At work too. He recognized me. If he's alive what about-

I turn back around.
"What's your name!" We say at almost the same time.

A/n can we agree that this is not canon at all and Bucky remembers a bit more than just his face & name? Good.

He goes first

"James Buchanan Barnes, pleased to meet you."

"Peter B. Parker, nice to see you too."

"So, why are you in New York?" I ask, stepping forward.

"Looking for somebody that I used to know, hmm... Might be you darling."

I swear my heart stopped for a second, my face flushed, and I see him, he looks exactly like I left him, 1945, in the Hydra base.

"You remember, looks like Hydra lost another soldier," I call to him, beckoning him closer.

Silently as a slithering wind, he grabbed my wrists pinning them above my head.  "well Spider, caught in your web it seems." his gravelly voice ticked off something deep inside me, something that I never thought I had before.

My face was burning, and by that almost predatory look in his eyes, he wanted me. he wanted me.

One of his large calloused hands is pinning my wrists above my head, and the other metal hand is lifting my chin upwards. He hasn't shaved or showered in a long while, there is grease and dirt buildup along the lines of his body. The sparse beard, patchy and stiff, is speckled with dirt and blood.

I bit my lip, and look up into his eyes. I'm pouring all my innocence into this, the innocence he knows I don't have.  I finally speak, the words are like butter, and my saccharine tone is not my own. "Oh really? You think you caught me?" the honey in that alone made me cringe.

I could feel his breath on my face, our noses brushing each other. He knows I'm not helpless in any way and could have taken him down, or at least freed myself.

I push myself forward, attempting to switch things up and turn the tables if you will.  I only manage so halfway, hooking my legs around his waist, and pinning him in my place against the wall.

Everything is so much, and I must not be thinking clearly because I grab the sides of his face, pulling him in.

The kiss felt like it lasted for hours. Like we could go down and not come up for air. I take my time, memorizing every crevice of his mouth. 

I remember when we were young.
When we were full of joy, and lust, and sadness. When love was what rocked our world, and then having to be silent about it.

I remember sneaking to the roof of our apartment building, and just laying there, kissing and existing. Just me, Buck, and Steve.

Now it's been forever, and part of me wishes there was a way we could have it all. I pull him closer, and closer, leading him to my futon.

He lays down next to me, and the truth sets in. I'm 92, and he is 94. We need to find Steve, and we need to make amends. We've been running for too long.