Chapter Text
Even drugged half out of his mind, and even though they weren’t in uniform, Peter still immediately recognized Captain America and Bucky Barnes the moment they were shoved into the sizable cell. He himself had arrived only an hour earlier, but since then he had been given three different injections that made the world spin and his legs feel like jelly. The room contained three plain cots that were aligned in a row, about three feet between each one, but nothing else. The cots were all covered in an identical white pillow and gray blanket. Peter was currently lying on the one furthest from the single metal door. It was the only cot with one side pressed against one of the white walls. He didn’t know what the walls and door were made out of, but had learned pretty quickly that he wasn’t able to so much as dent them. He had tried, repeatedly, before he’d received his first injection.
The Winter Soldier let out a frustrated roar, slamming both fists into the door as it clanged shut behind them. Peter was impressed that not even his vibranium arm made an impression. In a moment, Captain America turned around to take in their surroundings, and his blue eyes widened in surprise. “Buck, we’re not alone.”
Barnes swung around immediately, following the captain’s gaze to where Peter watched them. He’d made no attempt to even sit up on the cot. The pile of vomit on the shiny white floor served as a reminder of what had happened the last time he’d tried to rise. He raised one hand in a brief greeting before allowing it to fall limply back to his side. “Hey, guys.”
“Hey,” Captain America said, crossing the room to stand over the cot. He appeared larger than ever from Peter’s current position. “Who are you? Do you know what’s going on?”
Peter reminded himself not to be annoyed. Sure, he’d met both super soldiers at the airport in Germany, but he didn’t exactly look a lot like Spider Man at the moment. “No idea,” he said, his words slow and slightly slurred. “Haven’t been here long.”
“How long is not long?” Barnes demanded, coming to stand beside his companion. His tone was a lot less contained than Captain America’s had been.
“Like...an hour maybe?”
“Why are we here?” Barnes said, still scowling.
“I dunno.”
“Well at least tell us who the hell you are!” He was shouting.
“Hey,” the captain’s voice was still measured as he took hold of his friend’s shoulders. “Calm down. He’s just a kid, and he’s clearly on something.” He released Barnes then, glancing toward the crook of Peter’s left elbow that was covered in three different Band-Aids. He met Peter’s eyes again, frowning slightly. “What did they give you?”
“No idea,” he said. “Just makes everything...whoo,” he twirled one finger in the air as he made the sound effect. It was a ridiculous way to address any member of the Avengers, but he was having trouble coming up with a more eloquent description.
“Did it make you sick?” He glanced toward the vomit.
“No. Well, yeah. It was my fault though. They told me not to sit up.”
“Okay,” Captain America said, sounding suddenly determined. “Don’t worry. We’re getting out of here. You’ll be home by tonight.”
Peter wanted to believe him, but he really doubted that. “How?”
The man grinned. “I’m Captain America, and this is Bucky Barnes. We’re both Avengers.”
“I know.”
“You know?” Barnes sounded less angry, but his eyes were still flashing dangerously around the cell. “And you still doubt we’ll get out?”
“They got you in,” Peter reminded.
He wondered if his kidnappers had captured the two Avengers the same way they had gotten him. He was still a little surprised they had managed to control him so easily. He’d been attacked on his way home from school. His spidey sense had warned him, but he’d detected the source of the threat a second too late. A metal bracelet had flown out of nowhere, attaching itself to his wrist and sending a sudden jolt through his arms and legs that paralyzed them instantly. Three men in black jackets had then arrived, blindfolding him and shoving him into what had to be a vehicle before anyone even noticed. The paralysis only lasted a few minutes, but every time he’d tried to fight back he’d been shocked again. He’d stopped trying after the sixth attempt, and they only removed the blindfold once he was inside a spacious facility with a lot of sterile hallways and closed doors. They eventually pushed him into his current cell, and the bracelet was still on his right wrist. It was hard, black, and impossible to remove or break. He’d tried. He noticed similar bracelets on both the soldiers in front of him.
“We’ll figure it out,” Captain America said, following Peter’s gaze briefly to the bracelet. “When they injected you, did they come into the room?”
“Yeah.” They’d had to paralyze him again the first time. After that, he’d just let it happen.
“Then chances are they’ll be back. We just have to wait for the door to open.”
Peter knew it wouldn’t work. He was actually kind of surprised that they thought it might, but he didn’t want to argue. He felt like he was spinning, and his head was starting to hurt from the effort it took to follow a conversation. He closed his eyes.
“Kid?”
“Not a kid,” he mumbled.
“Then what’s your name?”
“Peter.” His sluggish reply came without thought, but it’s not like it really mattered if the Avengers knew his first name.
“Okay, Peter. You alright?”
“Just resting.”
“Let him,” he heard Barnes say. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do anyway.”
Peter listened to the footsteps of his two heroes crossing the room, and then to the beginnings of whispered conversation. With his hearing being what it was, he could easily have made out their words if he wanted to, but he didn’t feel like trying to focus. Though he didn’t have much hope for it, he wished they would come up with a plan that would get them all out of there. They were Avengers after all. Maybe it could happen. That was his last thought before succumbing to a drug-induced sleep.
___
When Peter next woke, it was to the sound of an incredibly brief scuffle. He opened his eyes to see two men in lab coats. Only one of them was familiar. It was the same tall man with a black mustache who had given him all of his injections. The other man was shorter, with brown hair and glasses. They were standing over Captain America and the Winter Soldier. Both men were on the ground, arms and legs frozen. The captain was glaring silently, but Barnes was letting out an impressive selection of swear words.
“Haven’t you tried that enough times already?” Black Mustache said, crouching down to extend Barnes' right arm. He gave him a quick injection as the man continued to cuss and insult him, covering it quickly with a Band-Aid before standing. The man with glasses repeated the process on Captain America. As they were working, Peter pushed himself up on the cot, realizing his head felt slightly clearer. He glanced toward the open door, and was contemplating giving it a try when Black Mustache turned to him.
“Stay put,” he warned. “Or you know what will happen.”
Peter listened. It would be stupid not to. Black Mustache and Glasses lifted the two soldiers onto the empty cots before walking to stand beside Peter. “Lie down.”
“What are you going to do?”
Black Mustache gave a meaningful glance to the bracelet before repeating himself. “Lie down.” Peter did, feeling his heart speed up and hating how he kept doing exactly what they asked. Black Mustache stayed beside him while Glasses left the room, returning seconds later with a rolling, metal cart. Both men placed the used syringes in an empty dish on the surface of the cart, pulled on rubber gloves, and stared down at Peter.
“Hey!” Captain America suddenly shouted from the cot nearest Peter. His arms and legs were still useless, but he had turned his head to watch them. “Get away from him. You need to do something, you do it to me.”
“Oh, we will,” Black Mustache said. “But later.” He turned his attention back to Peter, pulling a fresh syringe from the cart and doing a quick blood draw, which he handed to Glasses. It pinched, but it really wasn’t that bad. What bothered him most was that they were certainly going to test his blood. He was sure they already knew he was Spider Man, because why else would he be there, but he’d gone out of his way to avoid doctors and hospitals since the spider bite. He hated that they had his blood.
“Turn onto your side, facing the wall.” Peter obeyed, relieved that he didn’t have to face the Avengers. They’d gone quiet for the moment, but he didn’t want to look at them while the two men did whatever it was they were planning. He was surprised when the lightning shot suddenly through his arms and legs, making him gasp as the limbs froze up.
“I did what you said!” he exclaimed indignantly.
“You did,” Black Mustache told him. “But it’s important that you’re still for this.”
“For what?” Neither of the men answered, and he heard the rattling of instruments on the cart. His t-shirt was pulled up to his ribs, and his jeans and boxers lowered to just below his hips. A thick sheet of paper was tucked beneath him before he felt something slick and cold spreading along his lower back. He began to panic, breathing hard, he had no idea what was happening.
“Peter, you’re okay. It’s an ultrasound.” He was so grateful for Captain America’s words. Not knowing what was going on made everything truly scary. He stared at the white wall, trying to calm his breathing for several minutes while the probe on his back slid across his skin. He tensed again when it disappeared, and he felt something smaller and very cold press against his back. It felt suspiciously like a…
“Gah! Warning!” he cried, feeling the scalpel cut an inch long slice near the bottom of his spine.
“That’s nothing,” Black Mustache said. “Take some breaths, because this next part is where it gets bad.”
“Why? What is it? Please just tell me what you’re doing!” The scalpel had disappeared, but another small, cold object had replaced it, hovering just over the incision.
“Don’t!” He was having trouble breathing, certain his heart was trying to escape his chest. “Please! What is that?”
“Aren’t you going to numb him first?” Captain America’s angry voice demanded, but he was ignored. Peter didn’t have the breath to tell him that numbing agents wouldn’t work on him, and the next moment he was screaming anyway. A long, thin object was twisting into the cut the scalpel had made, deeper, deeper, deeper, until he was sure it was embedded in his bone. Only then did Black Mustache still.
“Calm down,” he said. “This will only take a few more minutes.”
The man was telling the truth, but it was hell. The object twisted back and forth several times, and he felt something being pulled from deep inside his body. He ended up squeezing his eyes shut, and biting his tongue until he tasted blood. He tried not to scream anymore, but a few more cries escaped him before they finally finished whatever it was they were doing. The object was removed, and they taped gauze over the incision before turning him onto his back. He still couldn’t move, and he felt sweat (and oh gosh, were those tears?!) running down his face and neck.
“Good job,” Black Mustache said. “You’re done until tomorrow.”
“Fuck you.” Peter seldom cursed. He could almost feel Aunt May’s slap against the back of his head, but he didn’t care. Neither of the men commented, and Peter watched them remove the bloody sheet from beneath him and adjust several blood-filled syringes on the cart before they left, closing the door behind them.
“Peter? Son? Peter, you okay?”
Captain America sounded worried, but Peter really didn’t want to face him at the moment. He stared at the ceiling instead, trying to ignore the deep, stabbing pain in his back, and worse, the pain of having screamed and cried like a child in front of two of the Avengers.
“I’m good,” he finally said, hating that his voice wasn’t entirely steady. He realized he was still panting.
“You are tough as nails,” Barnes spoke for the first time in a while.
“I don’t...what did they…?” He was still staring at the ceiling, and he felt almost afraid of the answer, even though whatever it was had already happened.
“They took some of your bone marrow,” Barnes said. “I’ve had it done. Hurts like a mother. Ah, finally!” Peter heard the cot creaking. “Steve, you moving yet?”
“Nearly. My fingers are tingling like crazy.”
Peter heard footsteps that sounded slightly unsteady before the Winter Soldier was kneeling beside his cot. “Sorry you had to go through that. It’ll be sore for a while, but you’re okay. Try to slow your breathing down.”
“It’s fine,” Peter said. “You don’t have to…”
“I do.”
“We do.” Captain America had apparently also regained the use of his limbs, because in a moment he was crouched beside Barnes. “We’re Avengers, and you’re a civilian, not to mention a kid. Oh wait, I’m not supposed to call you that.”
Peter chewed on the inside of his cheek, wondering if Captain America was trying to make a joke. He couldn’t tell without looking at his expression, but he still didn’t want to. “I’m not,” he said.
“Fine, not a kid. Teenager work better for you?”
That wasn’t what Peter had meant, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to explain that he wasn’t a civilian either. His heart rate and panting were evening out, and he could finally move his arms and legs again. Even though it hurt, he pulled himself into a sitting position, readjusting his shirt and pants and leaning against the cold wall for support. He felt lightheaded, but he was still clearer than he had been after the drugs. “How long was I out?” he asked. “Before they…”
“Close to an hour,” the captain supplied. “Why don’t you lie back down? That can’t be comfortable, and they just took a lot of your blood.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” He finally got up the courage to look at the men beside him. He caught them exchanging glances, both frowning in concern. “Still think we’ll be home by tonight?”
“Maybe not quite that soon,” Barnes said. “But we’ll figure something out.”
“Who are these guys?” Peter had been wanting to know. Despite the fact that he had asked them repeatedly, his captors offered him almost no information. He hoped his heroes would have an answer.
Captain America sighed. “They’re from an organization called HYDRA. I’ve been fighting them...well pretty much forever. Since WWII. Bucky has been too. More recently they’ve been working on…”
“Making new super soldiers and regaining technology obtained by Stark Industries, specifically the infinity…” He suddenly snapped his mouth shut when he saw the looks they were giving him. “Um. I, uh…”
“How do you know that?” Barnes’ voice was low and serious.
“Google? I mean, I uh, wrote a paper for school and chose the Avengers, so it just…”
“That’s not something you can find on the internet.” Barnes was glaring at him, suddenly all suspicion. It was more than unsettling, but it’s not like Peter could just declare that Tony Stark had told him what kind of enemies he needed to avoid as Spider Man. His mentor had forbidden him from messing around anything concerning HYDRA. When he realized Peter had never heard of the organization, Mr. Stark had taken it upon himself to fill him in on the details.
“I have sources,” he tried.
“What sources?” Barnes growled.
“I...I...I intern at SI,” he finally spit out the excuse that always worked with Aunt May and his teachers. He was frustrated that it took him so long to come up with it, but his brain definitely wasn’t all there at the moment.
“That still doesn’t explain why…”
“Bucky,” Captain America finally interrupted. “Cut him some slack. He’s already been through a lot.” His words were comforting, but Peter didn’t miss the distrust that had appeared in his eyes. Great. “I would like to know what you do at Stark Industries, though. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but Tony and I don’t just protect the world together. We’re actually friends.”
That was debatable. Though they’d mostly recovered from the whole rouge Avengers incident, Peter knew the team was still fractured. Tony always sounded sad when he talked about Captain America, and he made no secret as to how he felt about the Winter Soldier. However, Peter knew that saying any of that would only get him in deeper. He decided to answer somewhat honestly.
“I work on tech upgrades. Sometimes drones, but mostly on Mr. Stark’s suits.” In truth, it was usually his own suit he was working on, but they didn’t need to know that.
Captain America raised his eyebrows. “You work on Tony Stark’s suits? I hope by that you mean you tailor his conference attire.”
Peter bowed his head. What the heck was he supposed to say here? He still felt like he was being interrogated. Barnes hadn’t stopped glaring at him. “I’m just really good at science, okay?”
“We’re not attacking you,” Captain America said, even though Peter was pretty sure that was exactly what they were doing. “We’re just trying to understand. Do you have any idea why HYDRA would be interested in abducting you?”
He was able to answer honestly again. Of course it had something to do with Spider Man, but he couldn’t fathom what. “No.”
He could feel another question coming, but before it did they were interrupted by a slot sliding open at the bottom of the door. A plastic tray of food was shoved into the room, followed by a pitcher of orange liquid and three plastic cups. The slot snapped shut again without a word from their captors. “Oh, thank you,” Peter muttered under his breath. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, having skipped lunch at school in order to help Ned study for a test. He knew it had to be at least early evening by now, and his stomach was letting him know. With his heightened metabolism, his appetite pestered him every time he went more than two hours without a snack.
He crawled to the foot of the cot, wincing at his protesting back. It cramped all the way from the incision point to the bottom of his left thigh, but he did his best to ignore it. He knew the meal would go a long way in helping his enhanced healing. He only hoped he didn’t look too much like a spider as he crept to the food tray on all fours. When he got there he sat leaning against the door. He quickly filled one of the cups with what appeared to be orange juice.
“That might not be a good idea,” Captain America warned when the cup was halfway to his mouth.
“Why?”
“It’s probably drugged.”
Peter shrugged. “They’ve been drugging me all day.” He took a large gulp of the juice. It was room temperature, and had obviously come from a can, but it removed the dryness from his mouth and was filled with sugar. At the moment, he wasn’t looking for much else. He drained the cup before turning his attention to the tray. It contained three wheat bread sandwiches, each with one slice of cheese and a piece of pinkish mystery meat. Peter inhaled his in three bites. His stomach grumbled for more, but he wasn’t going to be greedy when that’s all they’d been given.
“It’s a little dry,” he told them. “But I don’t think it’s drugged.” He actually felt a tad better. His head was slightly clearer, though some of the dizziness continued to linger. He was still in fairly bad pain, so when the Avengers didn’t answer he laid down on the floor. He rested on his stomach, head turned to the side. He hoped his healing would kick in soon.
“Here.” Captain America appeared beside him, pillow in hand. He tucked it under Peter’s head before sitting on the ground beside him. In a moment Barnes followed, and they both picked at the food a lot less ravenously than Peter had. No one spoke again until the tray and pitcher were empty, and Barnes began banging his braceleted real arm against the ground.
“I did that for like half an hour,” Peter said from his position on the floor. “It must be vibranium or something. It doesn’t obey the laws of physics at all.” At those words, Captain America gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. Peter was startled. “What? What did I say?”
“Queens?”
“What!” Peter sat up suddenly, cringing again at the sensation in his back.
“The airport,” Captain America said, smacking himself in the forehead. “That makes so much sense now.”
Peter was panicking. How had he figured it out? He wasn’t ready for them to know about Spider Man. Almost nobody knew, and he liked it that way. What if they held a grudge? He hadn’t been on their side in Germany. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What airport?”
“It’s okay,” the captain said. “It’s actually good. I couldn’t figure out what HYDRA would want with a random SI intern.”
“I’m not following, Steve,” Barnes said.
“He’s that spider kid that Stark brought to Germany.”
“The annoying webby fingers who talks too much?”
Captain America laughed at the description at the same time Peter shook his head. “No. No. I’m not...I mean...who…?” Damn he was bad at lying. Why did he have to stutter when he was nervous?
“Laws of physics,” the captain said. “You said the same thing about my shield at the airport.”
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“Chill out,” Barnes was finally looking at him again without anger and suspicion. At least that was a nice change. “That explains everything. Why didn’t you just tell us?”
Peter gave in. There was no point in lying anymore. He spoke to the floor. “We weren’t on the same side.”
The Winter Soldier laughed. “So what? No one’s still worried about that. I thought you were undercover with HYDRA.”
That was enough to make Peter jerk his head up. “Why?”
“You were acting squirrely,” the captain admitted. “But now we can see why.”
“No one knows,” Peter said. “I mean, besides Mr. Stark and my best friend. I feel like these guys, HYDRA, probably figured it out, but I don’t know how. Seriously, nobody knows.”
“You don’t have to worry about us,” Captain America said. “We both respect that you have a secret identity, but at least now we can better work together to get out of this.”
Peter scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t even know why I’m in this.”
“That’s not important right now,” Barnes said, looking like he probably knew exactly why they were there. From the man’s nervous expression, Peter wasn’t sure he wanted to know anymore.
Their conversation was cut short when the door behind them was dragged open. They all three scrambled to back up before the bracelets could incapacitate them again. Two large men, each holding a rifle and dressed in black jackets, stood in the doorway. Peter didn’t recognize either of them.
“Bathroom,” one of the men barked. “One at a time.”
“Do we have a choice?” Barnes grumbled.
“Not unless you want to hold it till morning.”
“I’ll go,” Peter said, pushing himself upward. His bladder had actually been bothering him for a while. Standing ended up being way worse than sitting, and he found himself hunched forward, letting out a small, embarrassing noise of discomfort. Captain America was beside him instantly, loosely gripping his arm.
“Do you know what they did to him?” the captain demanded, glaring at the armed men.
“Don’t really care,” one of them said. “You coming or not, kid?”
“I’m coming.” Peter pulled his arm free and limped forward. Once he was in the hallway, the door was closed in the faces of the glaring super soldiers. The men situated themselves until Peter was between them, but at least they didn’t rush his pace as they walked.
The bathroom wasn’t far, and similar to the cell, everything inside it was white and too bright. A row of toilet stalls lined one wall, and a row of showers the other. He was relieved to see the toilet stalls had doors, because the showers were open in the front, and separated only by chest high dividers. He was glad that right now he only had to pee. The guards waited outside the stall while he went, and then hovered behind him while he washed his hands. There were no mirrors in the bathroom, so he wasn’t able to check how drugged his eyes looked. He quickly splashed some cold water over his face before they walked him back to the cell.
By the time he reached the door he was ready to crumple, and he must have looked it. After making it one foot inside, Captain America had his arm again. The man supported him to the bed and helped him lie down on his stomach, even retrieving the pillow Peter had left on the floor. “Thank you,” he mumbled.
“Anyone else?” One of the guards asked impatiently. The Winter Soldier rolled his eyes, but followed the men out of the room. When he returned, Captain America went.
Peter didn’t know why, but he was feeling tired. Like, totally exhausted. He’d always been a bit of an insomniac, and even though there were no clocks or windows in the cell, he knew it must still be hours from his usual bedtime. Maybe it was the drugs. Maybe it was the pain. Maybe it was the fact that his spidey sense hadn’t stopped tingling down the back of his neck since he’d been taken off the street. All he knew for sure was that his eyes had already fallen closed by the time Captain America returned.
“It’s lights out in one minute,” they were told before the guards closed the door and left them alone again. That actually sounded pretty good to Peter. Even with his eyes closed, the room was way too bright for his heightened senses. His head had been hurting because of it for some time.
“Queens?” He cracked one eye open. Captain America was beside him again. “You hanging in there?”
“Yeah, I’m just tired.”
“You did lose a fair amount of blood. How’s your back?”
“Hurts.”
The captain frowned at that, but it was the last thing Peter saw before the room went suddenly black. Not dim. Black.
“Damnit,” Barnes’ voice came from the direction of his cot. “Seriously?”
“Guess that’s what ‘lights out’ means,” Captain America muttered. “Is there anything either of us can do to make you more comfortable, Peter?”
“No, I’m good.” He closed his eye again. He couldn’t see anything anyway.
“You’re not good,” Barnes’ voice came. “These assholes took my marrow the last time they had me. I know how bad it hurts.”
“Seriously,” Peter said. “It’ll probably be fine by the morning. I heal fast.”
“Good to know you’re not just sticky,” Barnes said. “What else can you do?”
They already knew he was Spider Man, so it would probably be okay to tell them more about his abilities, but at the moment he felt way too tired. He knew he should stay up, that he should be making plans with them and trying to get his bracelet off, but he didn’t think he was going to be able to stay awake. “Tell you later,” he mumbled.
Luckily no one pressed the issue, and he heard Captain America feeling his way to his own cot in the darkness. He listened to the two soldiers talking quietly. They were discussing their next course of action, deciding that there wasn’t much to be done in a pitch black cell while they were wearing the bracelets. They were making a plan for the morning, but Peter didn’t get to hear if they came up with anything doable before sleep dragged him under.