IVORY | PETER PARKER!

i. sam

"SAM?"

Sam Wilson turned around quickly, causing the person behind him to bump into him. Mumbling a quick apology and ignoring the curses he received, he looked around in confusion. It could have been another Sam that this person was calling or he could be hallucinating, but this person's voice, it pleaded silently to be helped, to be saved. He saw a flash of white hair and heard his name being called again.

"Sam? Sam Wilson?" The flash of white hair he saw appeared again and this time he saw more than just blinding blonde hair. He saw a boy and he looked rather feminine, with his arched eyebrows, long dark eyelashes covering his silver eyes, round cheeks, and pink full lips. He also had a small and curvy frame.

"Can I help you?" Sam questioned. He placed his hand on his pocket, ready to call Steve if something were to happen, if this was some trick to hurt him and his team.

"I'm Bo. Bo Hanason. I've been searching for you." The boy spoke with a slight French accent.

Hanason. Riley Hanason. His wingman who died tragically during a mission. His wingman who was strong, both physically and mentally. His wingman who was determined, never backed down from a mission. His wingman who never told him who this kid was.

"My father, Riley Hanason, talked about you a lot. You and him were my heroes, still are." Bo said. He seemed uncomfortable and impatient as he shifted from foot to foot and tapped his fingers against his thighs in a rhythmic pattern.

Son? This is Riley's son? Riley never mentioned a son, Sam thought. Sam found it hard to believe this and Bo must have thought so too because he slips his hands inside his battered brown leather coat (which looked oddly familiar) pocket and pulled out a shabby photograph. He handed it to Sam and when Sam took it, he realized that they should probably go somewhere private, yet public at the same time. The middle of the sidewalk is no place to talk about this, especially when there are angry and easy tempered New Yorkers around you.

Before looking at the photo, Sam offered to buy the boy lunch at a small cafe across the street from where they were standing. At first, Bo declined, but was persuaded when Sam offered to buy him extra donuts.

Sam sat across of the young blonde boy in the small cafe. They were in the far back corner so nobody could see or hear them. As Bo fidgeted with his jacket and ate his donuts, Sam neglected his coffee and instead, held the worn out photo, rubbing the pads of his fingers against the rough paper. The photo displayed a woman with white hair. She was very beautiful and shared a lot of features with the boy sitting across from him now, so he assumed she was his mother. She looked very tired, but she smiled nevertheless. On her lap sat a boy, who looked to be around six, who Sam knew was Bo because said boy pointed it out. Sitting to the left of the woman was a man with dirty blonde hair and silver eyes. Silver eyes the same color as Bo's. So it's true, Sam thought. My best friend had a kid and he didn't even bother to tell me. Sam really wanted to be angry at Riley, but he wasn't. Instead, he was conflicted. Why didn't Riley tell him about Bo?

"Why are you here? Why were you looking for me?" Sam questioned, tossing the photo on the table. Bo grabbed the photograph and slipped it back into his pocket.

"You are the only person I know other than my maman and my papa." Bo replied. This confused Sam and he raised his eyebrow as a signal for the boy to explain.

"I was born and raised in a shed in Virginia. Papa never let maman and I leave the shed. He said it was dangerous, that bad men were trying to take my maman away and if they found her, they would take me away too.

"Papa never stayed in the house for long. He came every Sunday to give us supplies and stayed for a few hours. During that time, he would train me. He started this when I was five years old. He taught me how to fight, how to protect myself. He also taught me how to use different weapons, mostly knives and guns. He said I needed to be prepared if the bad men came. When he left, maman would train me.