Seventeen

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Chapter Seventeen:

Peter sat on a white leather couch, the sun was rising from outside the window, the sky a mixture of blue and pink. His phone had rung for most of the night until shortly after two in the morning, his Aunt trying to reach him. He sent her a quick text saying he was alright, he was told he couldn't say where.

Mr Stark had called his friend Steve, who Peter was a great fan of even after fighting him- sorta. Apparently they didn't part ways on good terms, Stark wouldn't stop talking about how terrible of a person he was. He refused to speak the name of Steve's friend who'd be coming along, the one with the metal arm. Peter remembered that guy.

Two long hours later, Peter was being awoken by Vision who stood over him. Peter jumped up, heart hammering he looked to his right to see three men sitting at a small table.

"Mr Parker." Stark exclaimed, "Finally up."

Peter stumbled over, at a loss for words.

"Captain America." He grinned, "Wow."

"Steve." The man stood up and shook his hand, "How's living in Queens? Got into anymore fights?"

"No. I- um, sorry for stealing your shield."

He chuckled, "You had it for a less then a minute, kid. You borrowed it."

Peter nodded awkwardly before joining them at the table, he almost lost his mind when the guy with the metal arm stared at him. Eyes piercing him.

"Bucky." Steve motioned, he stuck his metal arm out for Peter to shake.

"Are you Hazel's dad?" Peter blurted, "Why is her last name Barnes?"

They all shot him weird looks, Stark looked more annoyed then confused at Peter's outburst.

"What?" Steve said it first before glaring at Stark then frowning at his friend.

"Who is Hazel?" Bucky asked quietly, "Why do you think she's my child?"

"What?" Steve said again staring at the man beside him.

"Well Mr Stark said-"

"She walked in here with abilities she never had days ago, Spider-boy here says she accidentally set herself on fire before being able to maintain it." Tony cut the young boy off before glaring at Bucky with the most hatred Peter had ever seen, "Further research seemed to say that there's residue of an experience circulating inside her which makes her able to take on whatever ability she wishes to desire."

"How does that have anything to do with Bucky?" Steve asked politely, anger dancing beneath him.

"Well when Vision had a go with the research he told us that the residue of said 'experiment' was from somewhere in the late 1900s."

"So?" Steve cut in, "I thought Bucky was dead after that war, and what happened after clearly states that he was taken prisoner which kinda means he'd have no contact with the outside world."

"Did they experiment on you, Barnes." Tony glared at him, "When you became the Winter Soldier?"

He nodded ever so slightly, "Yes."

"What did they do to you?"

"They tried doing what your dad did to Steve." He whispered, "It didn't work so the resorted to making another version of it, one that wasn't so friendly."

"So, did you end up meeting someone?" Stark questioned, "Had an accident, maybe."

Bucky closed his eyes and took I deep breath, "I don't remember all of it."

Peter's eyes widened, What the hell was going on. Was Hazel really the product of a mad man?

"Did you know you had a kid?" Peter asked, "Why didn't you keep her."

"They told me I did, I don't know how they found out. They always did find out."

Steve shifted uncomfortably, "So what happened."

Clearly this was something he didn't even tell his best friend about.

"I don't remember."

"What do you mean you don't remember?" Peter asked, "If you're really her dad she needs to know."

"Why!" Bucky's voice rose.

Peter was starting to get angry, he crossed his arms and stared at him. "Because if my dad was alive I would want to know." He yelled, hands hitting the table.

Tony turned and gave him a sad, startled look. Peter shook his head and stood up.

"Actually don't bother telling her." Peter said, "Until we know for sure, you're not her father."

Peter made his way across the room and walked out the door, making sure that it slammed shut behind him. Running a hand through his already messy hair he paced back and fourth in the hallway before deciding it was time to go home. Shoving his hands in his pockets he marched out of the building and down the stairs onto the sidewalk.

He had no idea how to get home.

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