If They Knew All About You

We Won't Break

Peter sat on the ledge of the building, his legs dangling down. He had been up on the rooftop for about 10 minutes now. The phone Mr. Stark had given him in his hands, he turned it over and over, not even looking at it. His eyes were on the horizon, unfocused. It was probably the same phone that the man had had the Widow deliver just a few days ago when she had dropped him off in Queens. On Tuesday. Or had it been Wednesday? No more than four days ago.

How the hell had his life changed this drastically in just four days?

Peter glanced down at the device in his hand. It's wasn't just probable that it was the same phone. It was very likely. SP3-10. Same model as the first one Mr. Stark had given him, only a different color. Red instead of black. Maybe with some additional features added so Mr. Stark would know what Peter was doing, what he was searching for, looking at online. He scoffed. Well, those features had probably been on there before as well, along with the trackers.

Peter swallowed hard. It would seem excessive, controlling, all these things, if Barnes hadn't happened. Somehow Barnes made Peter see the man's point, even if this sucked.

His father's point.

A shudder went through him. No. He couldn't go there. Not... not yet.

There was a little button on the very top of the phone that had it come to life in his hand. Without even thinking, he entered the same code he always had, the same 6 digit combination he had put in months ago. Everything was still there. His apps. His txts. Playlists.

Looking at it, he could have told himself that no time had passed at all. It was a perfect replica of the one he had lost in that disastrous kidnapping of his. The most recent one.

The hair on his neck bristled, but he kept his head low, his breathing steady, only cleared his throat.

"It's rude to listen in to other people's conversations." Peter's voice was surprisingly holding up, making him sound stronger than he felt.

With a quick press of a button, the screen went dark and a glance over his shoulder confirmed that what his senses had told him was true. Natasha Romanoff.

"Hm... maybe." Her tone was quite conversational. "Maybe, if you had actually called someone." She was approaching, but he turned back around, didn't look up as she sat down next to him. His phone had quickly disappeared into the pocket of his jacket.

"Which you didn't." She leaned forward a little, squinting at the ground below. "That's quite a bit of a drop."

He shrugged, then bit his lip at the sting in his upper arm that the motion left him with, eyes glued to his feet.

"Is this still in your range?"

Peter leaned a bit forward. The Compound was 5 stories high where they were sitting. He hadn't actually straight jumped off anything this high before. "Might hurt."

"The break-your-legs kind of hurt or the I'll-feel-that-tomorrow kind of hurt?"

He shrugged again, cursing himself silently as he agitated his arm and neck a bit more. "Don't think I'd break anything... major."

"Hm."

For a couple of minutes, she just sat there next to him. Quiet and still. It wasn't just that she made him uncomfortable, her calculating posture, difficult for him to get a vibe off her. Knowing that he couldn't trust her, almost made it easier even though he had fallen for her back at the hospital. The way she had helped and Peter was none the wiser as to why.

"I'm supposed to apologize to you."

He turned towards her, unable to hide the stunned shock on his face.