Peter Parker One Shots

Steve and the Ice

The first The first time Steve met Spider-Man, he was deciding whether or not to jump off the bridge.

Steve's tried, okay? He was in a bit of shock after coming out of the ice and hadn't been able to feel much of anything. With the ice and the Chitauri, he hadn't had time to process Bucky, the end of the war, the fact that everyone he knew and loved was dead or dying. He hadn't wanted to. Fury telling him about aliens and the Avengers Initiative had been a fucking godsend. He pushed Steve Rogers deep down and was only Captain America.

Then things slowed down, and Steve had time to think. Thinking was not good for his state. Thinking for him was more feeling the weight of everything crushing him. When Stark invited them all to live in the Tower, Steve had jumped on it. It hurt to think about, and he couldn't help but feel that he was betraying his old friends, but he could see the Avengers becoming his new Howling Commandos.

But the Avengers didn't want Steve Rogers. They just wanted Captain America. There was no "Steve." Only "Rogers," "Captain," "Cap," or maybe even a "Capsicle," if Tony was feeling pushy.

And Captain America, well, he had to be strong. He couldn't cry, couldn't be sad, couldn't grieve. He couldn't be weak. He could maybe be angry, but not too much. He always had to stay in control.

Steve Rogers wanted to cry and mourn for the people he lost through the ice. Captain America had to plan and drill for the next alien attack. Steve Rogers wanted to make friends, maybe ask some of his teammates if they wanted to go out for a drink. Captain America had to keep a professional relationship with the other Avengers. Steve Rogers only knew the basics of how to use a cell phone, television, and Google. He wanted to know more, wanted to ask, when he didn't want to destroy the computer out of sheer frustration. Captain America could not look dumb and uneducated. Steve Rogers cried himself to sleep more often than not and woke up screaming from nightmares. Captain America was never to shed a tear. If there was one thing that had remained prominent since he was defrosted it was that Steve Rogers wasn't needed. Wasn't wanted.

And after a couple of months, he realized that Captain America wasn't really needed, either.

Back in the War, there had been just him. But now there were half a dozen other superheroes, with more cropping up every week. That asshole in Hell's Kitchen for instance, and that private eye who could bench-press cars. There were people here who were geniuses, who knew everything there was to know about technology, who had mastered a dozen different styles of martial arts, who could call lightning and turn into beings of raw destructive power. What was an outdated SEO 'star' with a shield compared to that?

These were the thoughts that swirled through Steve's head as he walked across the bridge early Saturday morning. The sun was barely up. He'd started at a jog, but the more he thought the more tired he became. Not in a physical sense, but he just couldn't bring himself to run when it was taking every effort just to breathe. What would it be like to just...stop?

He glanced over the railing. The black water far below was slowly turning blue. It probably wouldn't kill him. He'd survived crashing a plane from half a mile up into the Arctic ocean. A five-story drop into lukewarm water wasn't gonna cut it. He wished it would. He wished he could frame it as an accident, look out over the water and fall "by accident" and this whole thing would be over. He kept thinking. A shotgun blast to the head would do the trick, though. It'd be easy to get. He wouldn't do it in the Tower, though. Wouldn't be right to make Stark clean up his mess. He'd go somewhere quiet...

"Dorito?"

Steve jumped, then cursed. He had enhanced hearing. He had no excuse to let anything sneak up on him.

Perched on the railing, half-hidden by shadows, was a small man in red and blue, holding out a bag of Doritos. The mask covering his face was rolled up to his nose, revealing smooth pale skin with a bit of baby fat. Steve instinctively assumed the demeanor of Captain America: firm voice, straight shoulders, hard eyes. "Spider-Man."