Lives We've Lived

Discoveries

Peter and Tony fell into one another even more than they already did. There was something so comforting about the way Peter could guess Tony's next move, or the way Tony would bark in Russian when they were working hard on a particularly difficult project. They were both victims, and survivors, and fighters. Their Russian was less cold when spoken to one another, and they shared their traumas with one another.

More than that, they could actually spar with one another.

It had been years since Peter had gone up against someone who could hold their own against him, and nearly 2 decades since Tony had had a go with his old weapons.

Peter dodged one of Tony's thrown knives with expert twists, sending one of his own back at Tony's arm. The blade skimmed over Tony's bicep, but the man paid no attention, instead firing off a couple rounds from the gun he was holding in his non-dominant hand. The rounds were careful and precise, but Peter was already moving, leaving three bullets in one, single hole on the wall behind him. Peter kicked his foot up on the wall and propelled himself over Tony's head, throwing a set of three knives across Tony's back. Tony rolled forward, then kicked himself back up. Peter was already up behind him, both of them holding the barrel of their guns against each other's foreheads.

"Good run," Tony panted, clicking the safety back onto his gun. "Вы можете получить аптечку?" (Translation: Can you get me the first aid kit?"

Peter got up and took a long swig from his water bottle before heading over to the wall-mounted kit. "Да уж. Кстати, извините за руку." (Translation: Yeah. Sorry about the arm by the way."

Tony just shrugged. "You just grazed it, kid, you're fine."

"Конечно, папа."

Tony tried to ignore the heat that spread through his chest and the blush that threatened to creep up his cheeks. Ever since they'd found out, Peter had been surprisingly open about Tony being his father. Maybe it was because the poor teen was just starved for familiar connection, but Tony liked to think it was because Peter was actually open to a relationship between them.

Peter passed the kit over and Tony fished out some bandages. "Thanks."

Peter took a seat next to Tony and drank some more water while the older man wrapped his arm carefully. "You want to head up for lunch in a second?"

"Sure," Peter said, still catching his breath. "I hate going out there after getting all worked up. Makes it harder to go back to just being Peter Parker."

Tony hummed. "I know what you mean. Before we talked, I was all by myself, ya know? Я не могу позволить этому ускользнуть от команды." (Translation: Couldn't let it slip to the team.)

"I get that."

The two finished cleaning up - Tony tied off his bandaged and told FRIDAY to lock down the CCTV from the gym for the last hour while Peter packed up their water and towels and slung their duffels over his shoulder. "Shower before lunch?" the teen asked.

"Yeah, I don't think they'd appreciate the smell if we showed up like this."

Tony followed Peter into the elevator and took his bag. Peter got off one floor below the penthouse, where his room was, and Tony rode the rest of the way back up to the penthouse. The billionaire was carefully holding his duffle bag so the straps hid the bandages on his arm, just in case Pepper or Rhodey was there. Fortunately, no one was.

Tony stripped out of his sweaty clothes and tossed them into the laundry chute. It was easier to let the laundry service downstairs take care of it anyways. The shower was already heating up by the time Tony got to the bathroom - thank you, FRIDAY - and Tony slipped under the comfortable stream with a satisfied sigh. Yes. This was exactly what he needed after a long day of training.

Tony lathered shampoo into his hands and through his curls. He was about to rinse his hair out when the sound of the Assemble Alarm went off, startling Tony.

"Ow!" Some of the soap had run into Tony's eye. He quickly finished rinsing his hair and face before he jumped back out of the bathroom and pulled on some sweats and a tee-shirt. Better than nothing.

Peter, Steve, Sam, and Natasha were already in the situation room when Tony got there. "Where's Clint and Bruce?"

"Bruce is on his way from the labs downstairs, Clint is on his way back from SHIELD." Steve was already flipping open a file, his eyes scanning the intel inside with calculation and focus. "We've got information from Fury."

"Of course. Is Fury going to be coming with Clint to give us the details?"

"Nope." The sound of Clint's voice was enough to make everyone turn.

"That was quick," Natasha joked. "Did you fly?"

"Fury let me take the heli-carrier." Clint fell back into his chair. "Did you get the file?"

Steve held it up. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Spottings over three towns, pattern suggests switching-back to give false leads. We've got agents headed to the spot for intel and cover, but we can't begin extraction since SHIELD has limited jurisdiction in ex-Soviet countries."

Steve nodded along, but at the word 'Soviet', Tony sat up tighter and shot a glance at Peter.

"Is it HYDRA?" Natasha asked.

"No," Steve said, looking through the file until he got to a picture. He tossed it across the table to Natasha, who glanced down and raised an eyebrow. She slid the picture back over to Steve, who redirected it at Tony.

"Дерьмо." Tony spoke quietly, but the Russian was rough on his tongue and the rest of the team noticed. Tony dropped his voice lower and beckoned for Peter to come over to him. "Peter, это Отдел X." (Translations: Shit. Peter, its Department X.)

Peter heard Tony's whispers just fine, his enhanced hearing picking it up easily. Tony held out the picture. It was black and white, and a little blurry, but there was no mistaking the glinting metal arm or the long, dark hair.

"Зима," Peter whispered. "If he's out, he's going to be so disoriented." (Translation: Winter.)

Tony hummed, but the two kept their words quiet enough that the rest of the team wouldn't hear. If this was Winter- if this was Bucky - they had to be the ones to get Bucky out of there. They couldn't risk the others getting to him first.