Peter & Bucky Are Pals

Chapter 38

Later, after Peter had gone on a quick patrol through Queens (and prevented a guy from stealing a bike, helped an old lady who had dropped her key in a storm drain, stopped a person from robbing folks at an ATM, and waited for an ambulance with a woman who tripped down her front steps and hit her head), he headed to Tony’s workshop to put the finishing touches on Bucky’s braces.

“You’re nervous,” Tony observed as Peter unboxed the last of the custom
parts with a pounding heart. “Worried about things going wrong?”

Peter looked up quickly. “How can you tell?”

“You’re wiggling your knee back and forth.” Tony set down a wrench and made his way over. “I promise, kid, you’ve done your best, and your best is exceptional. You’ve accounted for everything that I’ve thought of, and also some stuff that I haven’t, which is pretty damn impressive. I was honestly thinking of stealing your design and giving Rhodey an upgrade. Well, not stealing, but y’know.”

Peter let out a tiny, weak laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’ll work, kiddo.”

Peter took a deep breath, then continued his work, hands steadier. Tony lingered a bit, looking over his shoulder at the parts.

“Looks like you’ll finish tonight.”

Peter nodded silently, fumbling a tiny bit with a screw.

“Hey, I’m proud of you, y’know. You’ve worked hard on this.”

Peter smiled a little bit, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks.”

Tony studied him for a few moments. “You’re still worried about something.”

“There’s always something to worry about,” Peter said quickly, almost defensively.

For once, Tony said nothing, waiting.

“I’m not really fixing anything,” Peter finally mumbled. “He’s still paralyzed. I’m just… I dunno. I can’t really fix it, you know? Even if the braces work, I still failed.”

Tony stayed silent, watching Peter carefully.

“See?” Peter bit out. “You agree with me.”

“I don’t fu- Like hell I agree with you. I think you’re looking at this all wrong.”

Peter crossed his arms, lips trembling.

Tony took a deep breath. “First of all, you can’t fix Barnes’s paralysis. Second of all, why the hell would it be your job? Third, actually, this should’ve been first, you have a weird idea of what constitutes failure. Because I’m pretty sure helping a paralysed guy walk isn’t failure. But all of that aside, you’re still looking at this wrong. Remember the first point that probably should’ve been second, the one about not being able to fix paralysis?”

Peter gave a single nod.

“I don’t think… Look. With our technology today, even the very best of it, we can’t fix the damage done to Barnes’s spinal cord. It’s impossible, and I hate that word. I mean, maybe in ten, fifteen years… But we’re not ten or fifteen years in the future, we’re living right now. You hear me? You can’t keep the mentality that Barnes is going to be fixed and everything is gonna be fine. I promise that everything’s gonna be fine, but barring a miracle of all miracles, Barnes will never walk on his own again. He’s working on accepting that, and you need to, too. For your own good and for his.”

Peter’s lip wobbled harder, and Tony winced.

“I fucked that up, didn’t I? Shit. I just meant to say that he can be happy and be paralysed, okay? The two aren’t mutually exclusive, and thinking that they are is kind of… what’s that word? Rhodey said it one time. Never mind. Just… It’s not the end of the world, Peter, okay? Yeah, Barnes is paralysed, and it sucks. But he can still do stuff, and it’s not your fucking fault. Jesus, I suck at this. Just…c’mere.”

Peter let Tony wrap his arms around him, and he buried his face in Tony’s shirt. He felt Tony rub his back tentatively at first, then more firmly. It felt like ages before Tony finally stepped back, hands on Peter’s shoulders.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear, Pete. I’m sorry.”

Peter wiped a sleeved arm over his eyes. “It’s fine. You’re right. I’m being stupid.”

Tony looked mildly panicked. “No, that’s not what I was saying either. You’re not being stupid, you just want to help. And look, I know where you’re coming from. I worked around the clock trying to find a cure for Rhodey, and finally, he was the one who told me to give it up. Because I was stringing my hopes up on nonexistant nails, and it was doing him a disservice. He didn’t need me to fix him, he just needed me to be there. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Peter said, voice thick.

“The braces will work. And they’ll be helpful. But the real goal is to -don’t tell anyone I said this- heal emotionally. Dammit, I sound like a therapist.”

Peter laughed shakily.

Tony held up a finger. “If you people about that, I swear I’ll… I don’t know. Ground you, or something. Maybe take away your phone.”

Peter quickly mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key, and Tony smiled.

“Back to work, then?”

“Back to work,” Peter confirmed, sniffing to keep his nose from running. He felt something bump his leg and looked down to find Butterfingers holding a box of tissues. He took one and patted Butterfingers’ claw. “Thanks.”

Butterfingers chirped and dropped the tissue box on Peter’s foot, rolling back to where the other bots were futzing around with a mannequin hand. Dum-E made a whirring noise and attempted to pat Butterfingers in the same manner that Peter had. Butterfingers grabbed onto Dum-E’s arm and refused to let go, no matter how much Dum-E flailed. Tony winced at the sound of gears grinding.

“Y’know, I think we already have some puppies,” he said. “Maybe Pepper was right. Imagine the damage that a real one would do.”

Peter let out a real laugh. “It would be a mess.”

“Chaos. Possible doom.” Tony strode over to the bots in exasperation, flapping his hands at Butterfingers. “Quit it. Down, boy.”

Butterfingers let out a spiteful chitter, tightening his grip. Dum-E spun around in circles, narrowly missing Tony’s legs.

“Jesus,” Tony sighed, beating a hasty retreat. “If you break your claw, I’m not fixing it.”
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