Peter & Bucky Are Pals

Chapter 28

Peter was attentive enough during first period, but his worry grew worse as the day drew on. He’d forgotten to ask when they were doing the tests on Bucky… would he be home in time? Were they already doing them? Had they finished already? Did they know the results? What if it was bad news?

Peter internally slapped himself. It wasn’t going to be good news, Bruce had said as much. He felt that he should expect the worst, but how could he? It would be like giving up. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to massage the headache from his temples.
“Peter,” Ned hissed, poking his side.
Peter lifted his head fast enough to get whiplash. “Yeah?”
Ned gave a little nod to the front of the class, where Señor Alcaldo was standing, eyebrows raised.
“La respuesta?”
“Um… Puedes repetir la pregunta, por favor?”
Señor Alcaldo gave Peter a disappointed look. “Debes prestar atención en clase. Lo sabes.”
Peter’s cheeks burned. He looked at his desk. “Sí, Señor Alcaldo. Lo siento.”
“It’s not Peter’s fault!” Ned protested. The entire class turned to look at him; Señor Alcaldo frowned.
“En español por favor.”
“It’s fine, Ned,” Peter murmured urgently. “Just leave it.”
“You fight injustice on the streets, I fight injustice in the classroom,” Ned whispered to him. Then louder, “No es… culpa? De Peter,.”
“¿Sí? Por qué no?” asked Señor Alcaldo.
Ned opened his mouth, then closed it, visibly forming sentences in his head. “Él está triste porque su amigo está... herido. Eso es muy malo.”
“¿Sí? Lo siento, Peter, pero aún debes prestar atención. Lo entiendes?”
“Entiendo,” Peter said quietly.
Ned looked like he might protest more, but Peter gave him a tap with his foot.
“Voy a repetir la pregunta. ¿Cuál es el mejor lugar para ir cuando hay un terremoto?
“Debajo de una mesa. O en una ... puerta.”
“Bueno.” Señor Alcaldo turned away, and Peter exhaled. He wanted to wring his hands, but it would draw attention to him. Instead, he put on his best attentive face and let Señor Alcaldo’s voice flow over his head like a river.
----
When Peter got home, he took the elevator straight to the medbay, hurrying down the hall and dodging around one nurse before another caught his arm.
“You can’t go in yet,” she said apologetically. “They’re still testing, and the equipment’s sensitive.”
Peter’s shoulders drooped.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “They’ll be done in about half an hour.”
Peter checked the time on his phone. “Okay,” he said. “Thanks.”
The nurse smiled at him as he turned, heading back down the hall. He stepped into the elevator and tapped his foot as it ascended.
“Which floor, Mr. Parker?” JARVIS asked politely.
“Um…” Peter scrubbed a hand through his blue hair. “I don’t know.”
He expected to be taken to the common floor or maybe to his room, but the elevator came to a stop at Tony’s workshop. The door slid open, and Peter was greeted with the familiar scent of fried wires and oil. Classic rock was booming at a level that hurt his ears; JARVIS turned it down, catching Tony’s attention.
“Hey, kiddo,” Tony said, wiping the grease from his hands and striding over. “Doing okay?”
Peter shrugged, and Tony pulled him in for a one-armed hug turned hair-tussle.
“Got homework?”
“Yeah.” Peter made a little face at the thought.
Tony noticed and waved a hand. “Screw that. Want to do some real work instead?”
“Yeah,” Peter said again, relieved.
Tony nodded, heading over to a bench and scooping up a folder, managing to get grease all over it despite having cleaned his hands. He didn’t seem to notice.
“This has all the schematics and plans for Barnes’s braces. The first page has the measurements you did the other day; I need you to start building with holograms. I showed you how to use the program I created, didn’t I? Yeah, I did. Go ahead, go crazy.”

Peter dropped his backpack and took the folder. “Thanks.”
“Sure. Music, JARVIS.”
“Music at your usual levels is detrimental to Mr. Parker’s enhanced hearing,” JARVIS interjected. “I’ve told you this before, sir.”
“Right you are. How ‘bout this, I’ll pick the music, you pick the volume, Petey. Sound good?”
Peter nodded. “Sorry.”
“Are you really apologizing for your ears?”
“I…” Peter looked sheepish, and Tony lifted the corner of his mouth.
“It’s no problem. Probably good for me, so I don’t go deaf in the next ten years.”
Peter managed a wisp of laughter, opening the folder and laying it out on one of the tables by the wall. A manipulatable screen flickered on in front of him, and he took a moment to admire the technology before getting to work.
“You can pull up Rhodey’s if you want a reference,” Tony said. “They should be filed under Chicky Chick. He wanted to stick around, help out, but they called him down to DC for some emergency consultation.”
“Chicky Chick?” Peter repeated, lips twitching.