Chapter Text
Chapter 1
"Camping?" Peter can't keep the skeptical tone out of his voice. "Why would you want to do that?"
"Because it's a good way to...whaddayacallit...*bond*," Bucky says.
Peter throws up his hands in frustration. "Dude, you live in my house! I'd say we're bonded."
It's the disappointed look on Steve's face that does Peter in. He's seen Steve's 'Disappointed Captain America Face' but this is a whole different level of disappointment. This, Peter realizes, is the look that got Bucky into trouble. More than once. Peter should know because he's used that exact look on Bucky and he knows that Bucky is powerless when someone gives him that look. "I thought it would be fun. You know, just the three of us. No world-ending crises or insane super villains. Just us three, toasting marshmallows, having fun and spending time with each other."
"Bonding," Peter says doubtfully.
"Exactly," Steve agrees and his tone picks up with enthusiasm. "Bucky and I never went camping when we were kids. You know, the Depression and all. We'd go to Prospect Park and pretend sometimes but my allergies were pretty bad. Usually, we'd have to leave quickly or risk triggering an asthma attack."
"But you guys were, like, in the army. Didn't you have enough of sleeping in tents?" It's a last ditch effort but he can see he's just struck a nerve with Bucky.
"It's our chance to do it without anybody shooting at us," Steve persists and the frown on Bucky's face vanishes. "Besides, I'd like to get out of the city, away from all the noise. And the technology." He glances upwards to indicate the omnipotent presence of JARVIS. "Aunt May said it was fine and that she has your gear from the time you went camping with your uncle --"
"You asked her!?" Of course he did, Peter realizes. Steve is the 'Man with the Plan' himself.
Steve nods. "Yes, I did. She thought it was a good way for you to spend your three-day weekend."
Peter swallows. "Uh, did she tell you what happened that one time time Uncle Ben and I went camping?"
"Nope." Bucky is smirking. "But I know you're gonna."
"That was the weekend we found out I had asthma and I had a really bad allergic reaction to poison ivy."
Bucky shrugs. "Well, now you're a super soldier, just like Stevie and me. No more allergies, no more asthma and poison ivy's not a problem either. Any other whinin', punk?"
Peter thinks fast. "W-we're not going to, um, hunt anything, are we?"
"D'you wanna? Stevie and me did, during the war."
"No! I'm not shooting Bambi or any of his little friends!"
Bucky snorts out a laugh. "This is gonna be fun, Stevie."
Peter shudders. "Where exactly are we going on this little adventure?"
"Ever been to the Grand Canyon?" Steve asks.
"Dude, I've only been out of the Tri-State area once," Peter tells him, "And that was when they were making that stupid Spider-man movie. Doc Ock kidnapped me and took me to Brazil. I had to stow away on a flight to Newark to get home. In a luggage compartment."
Steve and Bucky exchange looks but it's Bucky who speaks first. "Well, there you go, punk. You need a vacation."
"B-but *camping* --"
"You're gonna love it."
He's doomed.
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The drive to Grand Canyon Village is pleasant. Steve is settled behind the wheel, there's a CD playing of Ella Fitzgerald singing her way through what apparently is now the 'Great American Songbook' and he's enjoying seeing Arizona for the first time in decades. Pepper had been kind enough to fly them out here in Tony's private jet and she even arranged for this car and all the necessary permits. Steve had no idea that permits were even required for camping or that there were so many of them until he started researching to plan the trip.
He spent the flight briefing Peter and Bucky about his plan for their hike to the South Rim and the horrified look on Peter's face hadn't gone unnoticed. Steve wasn't sure if it was the idea of hiking or swimming that worried Peter. It certainly couldn't be the height. Bucky, on the other hand, grew more enthusiastic with each phase of Steve's plan.
They pull into the parking lot for the restaurant that Steve selected during his planning. "Do I even need to ask if either of you are hungry?"
Peter gets out of the car but doesn't move.
"What's wrong?" Bucky asks.
"It's..." He gestures vaguely, his expression slightly panicked.
"Wide open space," Bucky finishes for him. "You shoulda seen me during Basic. First time I'd ever been outta Brooklyn. I thought New Jersey was wilderness. Then I saw the woods in Germany."
Steve doesn't breathe for a moment. "You remember...?"
"Little bit." Bucky shrugs and then quickly changes the subject by grabbing Peter in a headlock. "The fresh air ain't gonna kill you, Petey."
"Are you sure?"
"That's the last of the whinin', punk," Bucky warns him, giving him a little shake. "I mean it. Stevie went to a lotta trouble settin' this weekend up for us. What were you gonna be doin' otherwise, huh? Keepin' your nose stuck in some science books and tinkering in your basement?"
"Well, I --"
"The Grand freaking Canyon, Petey."
"But --"
"Three super soldiers and the Grand freaking Canyon." Bucky lets that sink in for a moment. "Other tourists, they have to use fancy climbin' gear and they have all kinds of limitations. The three of us? The fun we can have?"
"I suppose."
"And it's all you can eat pancakes in this restaurant," Steve adds, quickly changing to the subject to one of Peter's favorites. "You love pancakes."
"Well, sure, who doesn't but --"
"There you go," Bucky concludes.
"But --"
"No. More. Whinin'." Eyes narrowed, Bucky fixes Peter with the same look he used to give Steve whenever Steve tried to get out of double dates or other Bucky-engineered activities that Steve was sure he'd hate. The look has the same effect on Peter. Peter's shoulders slump in defeat. "Now tell Stevie you're sorry and you're gonna have fun this weekend."
"I'm sorry and I'm going to try to --"
"No," Bucky interrupts sternly. "Not try. You. Are. Gonna. Have. Fun. Got it?"
"I'm going to have fun this weekend," Peter recites obediently.
Steve can almost hear himself apologizing to Bucky and promising to have fun on whatever hellish date he'd set up this time. He echoes Bucky's usual response. "Of course you will, punk."
Peter's eyes grow wide. "Y-you called me..."
"You're acting like a punk," Steve shrugs and winks at Bucky, who shoots him a devil-may-care-Bucky grin that makes him nearly choke up with nostalgia. "Welcome to a weekend of camping with Stevie and Bucky, punk."
"Oh dear God... I'm doomed."
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"What was that?"
"A bat." Barnes savors the taste of the beer and listens to the sounds of night in the desert. He pretends not to notice Petey scooting closer to him and offers him the bottle. "Want a sip?"
"He's underage, Buck," Stevie says. He's roasting a marshmallow and he's got the goofiest grin on his face. It's his third attempt after losing the first marshmallow in the fire and burning the second. The third time is apparently the charm because he pulls the marshmallow out of the fire and takes a bite. "'S good."
Peter cocks his head. "You've had marshmallows before, right?"
"Uh-uh," Stevie tells him. "Depression, remember? Then the war. And then..." He shrugs. "How about you, Buck?"
Barnes thinks for a minute. "None that I'd wanna remember, let's put it that way. What about you, Petey?"
"You know the fireplace in my living room? Uncle Ben would toast them there, usually during Christmas but every now and again, he'd do it during the summer. It drove Aunt May crazy. Or she pretended it did. I think she kind of liked it." He smiles and tilts his head back to look up the stars. "He used to say that if there were things we enjoyed doing, things that made us happy then we should do them whenever we wanted, seasons be damned, because life is short. Aunt May used to scold him for swearing but... He was right. I... I don't think we roasted enough marshmallows together."
Stevie reaches over and ruffles Peter's hair and Barnes knows what he's thinking. "I never knew my dad and my ma, she worked as a nurse to support us. Most of the time, she was too tired from workin' extra shifts to spend a lot of time with me but she'd read to me when I was sick. No matter how tired she was. We didn't get to spend enough time together either."
Barnes takes another swallow of beer. "I had a sister, right?"
"You did," Stevie tells him. "Rebecca."
He thinks he remembers her a little but no stories come to mind. Barnes' eyes wander over to Petey and then to Stevie. "Any of them biographies mention how I met Stevie, punk?"
"No." Petey is instantly alert.
"Aw, c'mon, Buck," Stevie protests. The marshmallow he was toasting falls into the fire and Barnes smirks. It's nice to see that the great Captain America isn't perfect at everything.
"It's the first week of school," Barnes begins, "and this little jerk comes to school wheezin' and coughin' and so scrawny a stiff breeze'll blow him on his bony little ass. You know what that means, right?"
Petey nods. "Instant target."
"Instant target," Barnes confirms. "The bully was a kid named Frankie Twomey. His dad was a beat cop in the neighborhood. Big bull of a man and Frankie's a chip off the old block and twice as mean as his old man. Frankie's this big kid, a year older'n both of us on account of he got left back in first grade." Barnes blinks because, God, this memory is vivid. He hopes to hell it's real. "Frankie takes one look at Stevie and thinks, here's an entire school year of entertainment. So he goes up to Stevie and says, gimme your lunch."
"What'd Stevie do?" Petey asks, just like Barnes knew he would.
The same way Falsworth did. Barnes blinks at that sudden memory and puts the thought aside for later. "Stevie told him to get lost."
"And then he shoved me, so I kicked him in the balls," Stevie adds.
"I'm over on the other end of the school yard, playin' potsie --"
"You were what?!"
"A game. Kind of like... uh, hopscotch," Stevie explains to Petey. "They still play that, right?"
Petey shrugs. "I think so."
Barnes blows out a frustrated breath because how the hell is he supposed to tell a story with these two and their interrupting? "So I'm playin' potsie and I hear shouting about a fight and so of course we all gotta go see who Frankie's beatin' on now. It's not even a fight. Stevie's half Frankie's size and the little punk refuses to go down. He's got a bloody nose, his shirt's torn and he can't throw a punch to save his life but he's not quittin'. And it's making Frankie crazy."
"So Bucky steps in and lays Frankie out with one punch," Stevie finishes.
"And we introduce ourselves and then Stevie tells me what happened. So I ask him, why didn't ya just give him your damn lunch?"
"He did. Seven years old and Bucky could swear like a sailor."
Barnes shoots him a look. "Are you tellin' this story or am I?"
Stevie mimes zipping his lips.
Satisfied, Barnes turns back to Petey. "Stevie looks up at me with those big blue eyes, one of 'em halfway swelled shut by this point, and tells me, I couldn't give him my lunch. I ain't got one."
"A lot of kids couldn't afford to bring lunch. They ate maybe a meal or two a day," Stevie explains to Petey. "Bucky met me at lunch time and let me have half of his. We've been friends ever since."
"What ever happened to Frankie Twomey?" Barnes wonders.
"Got sent up to Sing Sing for armed robbery and aggravated assault in 1937," Steve tells him. "Died there in 1939."
Barnes raises his beer in a silent toast and then he says it anyway. "Good riddance to bad rubbish."
"I certainly didn't shed any tears," Stevie shrugs. He shoots a pointed look at Petey. "This is why I tell you not to worry so much about that Flash Thompson character. Life has a way of sorting his kind out."
"It burns Petey to have to pretend he's weak," Barnes says.
"I know it does."
"I'm sitting right here." Petey waves his hand. "Did I ever mention how I got even by taking Flash's spot on the basketball team?"
"No," Barnes tells him. "You did not."
"You're going to," Stevie adds.
"First, Captain America and Winter Soldier dude," Petey says, reaching for his backpack, "I'm going to teach you how to make s'mores."