Bucky didn’t normally go for spontaneous walks through the city. Ever since Thanos’s defeat, the faces of all those involved—but especially those who had public identities—were everywhere. Not necessarily a bad thing since people seemed grateful, but he didn’t really want to be mobbed by a random crowd of people looking to ask questions or take pictures. So there he was in Central Park, hood covering his face and his massive Caucasian Shepherd, Blackie, trotting ahead in front of him. He nearly crashed into the dog when he abruptly stopped and started letting out a low series of warning growls.
Confusion settled over him, wondering what could have upset the usually friendly canine. When his eyes focused on the scene ahead, he sucked in a sharp breath. A thug wailing on a kid on the ground but not just any kid, either. Spider-Man. He hadn’t seen him since the battle a few weeks back. They didn’t know each other, hell, he had no idea what the kid’s name was or even his age, he just knew he was young based on his behaviour at the German airport fight a couple years ago.
The thing that shocked him wasn’t seeing him on the ground though; it was that the enhanced boy didn’t seem to be fighting back. He was curled up in a ball, clutching his side, warning bells went off; he must have been seriously hurt if he couldn’t even get up, “Блэки, защищай!” Blackie immediately tore forward at a frightening speed, howling as he placed himself between the young hero and his attacker.“Hey! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?!” He grabbed the punk roughly by the front of his jacket and gently slammed him backwards into a light post, knocking him unconscious.
Satisfied he wouldn’t be getting up for a while, he went over to Spider-Man and crouched down, “Hey, Kid, are you—you need help?” His dog whined in distress and nosed the boy’s shoulder. Bucky couldn’t really see any horrible injuries through his hands, but it had to be bad for the superhumanly strong teen not to just shrug it off, didn’t it? “Can you stand?”
He couldn’t exactly call an ambulance for a masked hero unless he wanted to get him exposed.
Petere looks up startled when he suddenly sees a big dog just standing between him and the person he’d been fighting. The boy literally has no idea what is going on. And his attacker was a bit more than a common thug. One of Toomes’s goons that had slipped away, came back for a little revenge. None of them were very happy that Peter had ruined their little operation and steady, heavy cash flow.
It didn’t register at first just who it was that had come to his aid. But once his brain caught up, before Bucky even crouched down, Peter knew. He was panicked and tugging his suit and binder. He is too terrified to move, to speak really and he just whimpers. He aims a blaster at the guy and shoots a tracker onto him, one that alerts the police of the man and where to find him. The kid then looks up at Bucky, and even though only his mouth is exposed (a little blood still dribbling from it), it’s obvious he’s terrified.
He doesn’t fully know this man, but he’s not exactly a stranger either. “P-Please get me out of here.” he says lowly, voice full of the sound of threatening tears. Jesus there is no way he could let himself be taken home in this state, Aunt May would flip out, but he didn’t have another binder on him. Though more than anything he needed to be somewhere private. “Please.”
