So this is similar to the other multiple ages one. I'll let you know the ages ahead of time. It's just multiple similar stories too short to be their own individual chapters. Also, this references pedophilia, so don't read if it may trigger you.

8 Years Old

Peter was glad Steve was the one picking him up from school. He liked Uncle Steve a lot, but he hadn't seen him in a while. Listening to Steve recount his missions was much more fun than rereading the comic books and when he and Ned played together, they often acted them out. After all, real Captain America adventures were more fun than fake ones. He wasn't expecting Uncle Bucky to come with Uncle Steve, though, and was even more determined to hear about their adventures.

"Are you ready to go, Peter?" Steve asked as he walked into the room.

Peter nodded and grabbed his backpack from his hook. As he glanced back at his teacher, he smiled at Peter and gave him a small wave. Instead of returning it, Peter rushed to Steve and buried his face in Steve's legs. Steve looked down, concerned, and picked up Peter.

"What's wrong, Pete?"

"Nothing," Peter murmured.

Steve nodded and waved at the teacher before grabbing Peter's hand and walking with him and Bucky back to the car. When Peter reached up for Bucky, Bucky happily swung him up in his arms.

"What's going on, Peter?" he asked.

Peter fiddled with Bucky's shirt collar, obviously nervous about telling Bucky. That only caused his concern to grow.

"Do you not want Steve to know?" he asked in Russian. He knew Natasha had taught him the language and it often came in handy. Like right now when Peter nodded."Tell me in Russian. I won't tell him," Bucky promised.

Peter held out his pinky and Bucky firmly linked their pinkies.

"Mr. Jones says scary things sometimes," Peter whispered.

Bucky frowned, now completely stopped in the hallway. When he asked what, Peter shifted uncomfortably in Bucky's arms. "He says he loves me and wants me to be his special buddy, but I don't like it."

"Has he ever done anything you didn't like?" Bucky asked. Peter nodded once and Bucky's grip on him tightened. "What?"

"He grabs my arm and won't let go until I kick him really hard," Peter said quietly.

Bucky didn't even think about what he was doing when he set Peter down and stormed back to his classroom. One look at Mr. Jones and he was at his side in seconds. Although Mr. Jones's eyes widened when Bucky first walked in, they closed when his metal fist connected with his jaw. Mr. Jones screamed in pain and Steve and Peter came running.

In the doorway, Peter clung to Steve's hand and Steve watched, confused, horrified, and proud as Bucky kicked the teacher again. Steve wasn't sure what had set Bucky off, but he knew it must have been bad. He jumped slightly as Bucky flipped Mr. Jones over his shoulder then rolled him over and pinned his arm behind his back.

"Look at the kid," Bucky hissed. Mr. Jones whimpered and lifted his head to look at Peter. "If you even look at him as more than just a student again, I will be here and I will kill you."

Mr.  Jones didn't move, too scared and unsure what to do.

"Do you doubt me?" Bucky hissed.

"No, no," Mr. Jones said quickly. He cried out in pain again when Bucky dislocated his shoulder.

"Good," he said, climbing off his back and walking back over to Steve and Peter.

Without a word, Bucky picked Peter up and carried him out to the car. He never told Steve the reason why he had beat up and threatened Mr. Jones, but Steve had his theories.

12 Years Old

Peter hated business parties. They were full of old people that liked to drink and talk. A lot. He usually found himself with Natasha at the bar, sipping a Sprite in a wine glass while she served people. Sometimes he would sit with Steve and listen to his stories about being Captain America. Bruce never attended the parties and wouldn't go behind Tony's back and let Peter join him in the lab, so he was no help. In an effort to keep Peter away from the cameras, Tony tried to stay away from him. Fortunately for Peter, Natasha was fun to hang around. Sometimes she even let him help her serve the people.

"Auntie Tasha? Can I have more Sprite?" Peter asked, pushing his empty wine glass towards her.

Natasha nodded and opened a new can of Sprite. She poured it in his glass and he happily went back to drinking his bubbly soda. Once Peter was content, she went back to serving those at the bar.

"And who are you?" a woman asked, sitting beside Peter.

"I'm Peter," Peter answered, shifting in his seat. "Who are you?"

"I'm Valentina," the woman said. She quickly ordered a drink from Natasha and while Natasha frowned, she didn't say anything. Turning back to Peter, Valentina asked, "What's a young boy like you doing here?" 

"Being bored," Peter answered. Valentina smiled and laughed quietly.

"Well, I'm sure I can help you with your boredom," Valentina suggested. Peter lit up.

"Really?" he asked.

Valentina nodded and beckoned for Peter to follow her. He did, leaving his soda behind and happily following her out of the party room. They got in the lift and Valentina told FRIDAY to take them to the thirtieth floor. Peter frowned.

"Why are we going to the guest floor?" he asked.

"There's a game I want to teach you," Valentina said. She frowned when the lift suddenly stopped. As the doors opened, they were met by Natasha.

"Peter, come with me," Natasha said, stretching out a hand.

Peter took it and walked out of the lift in confusion. Over his shoulder, Natasha scowled at Valentina.

"You do realise he's a minor, right?" she hissed, "Or are you so desperate you'd commit a crime?"

"You don't have any business snooping into—"

Before she could even finish her sentence, Natasha punched her in the face. She screamed and Natasha kneed her in the stomach.

"FRIDAY, take Miss Adams downstairs and restrict her from ever entering again," Natasha said, keeping Peter behind her.

"Yes, Miss Romanov," FRIDAY said, closing the lift doors.

Turning back to Peter, Natasha smiled down at him and walked with him back down to the party.

"What was that about, Aunt Tasha?" Peter asked.

"Don't worry about it, Peter," Natasha said as he slid back onto his stool at the bar. "Would you like some sparkling cider instead of Sprite?"

Peter did.