Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a long drive home of around 43 hours in their cramped car, filled to the brim with their worn-out suitcases.

Currently, they had driven for about 36 hours, with two night-stops at cheap nearby motels. Pop music was quietly playing, as white noise to accommodate the comfortable silence.

He watched fondly, as May bobbed her head to the beat of the song, smiles etched on both faces.

The strap of his camera that had once belonged to Ben was loosely hanging around his neck. The device was out of storage with all the pictures he had taken. New memories to treasure dearly.

He was having a casual conversation with her, when she suddenly couldn’t hold it in. A familiar grin on her face, one that could easily outshine the sun in his opinion.  

“Are you excited? In six months, you’ll be turning sixteen!” May exclaimed happily, her eyes glued onto the road, as Peter sighed with a tired smile.

He leaned his head against the cool pane of the window, the sun was setting beautifully. Rays glimmered against his features, as it shadowed his eyes into a brilliant honey brown.

“Key word; Six months. May, that’s in a while..” He whined, not bothered to correct his childish tone.

He was happy, yet exhausted from their annual aunt-nephew trip. Since they slept on different mattresses, Peter had lost many precious hours of rest.

“I know, I know. But still! You were just so little.. And now… Now you’re all handsome and even taller than me!”

He whined out another “May…!” earning an amused giggle from the adult.

Feeling generous, she chose to change subjects, and he was grateful for it.

Deep down, he was admittedly excited for his birthday, even if it wasn’t near yet. It would be his first birthday with the Avengers and May together!

He’d probably celebrate with Ned and MJ on another day, they had been talking about building legos and jamming to some songs MJ had saved on her Spotify playlist. They could try baking together with May which would most likely result in a poor attempt of an edible dinner.

Then, he’d stop by to hang out with the Defenders, maybe he could guilt trip them into meeting together for his birthday. He’d get Foggy and Karen along too, worst case, he’d trick them with a supposed emergency. And they couldn’t be mad, since it’d be his birthday! 

 
If he was really lucky, he could get Matt to tolerate having Mr. Castle and Deadpool around. He hasn’t seen either of them in a while, as they were always on the other side of the world, probably running from the authorities. 

It was odd to have so many people to celebrate with, he used to only have to expect Ned, May and Ben to sing him happy birthday. 

“You know.. Mr. Stark said that he had this big surprise or something that he was already planning.. But it’s still in a pretty long time..” He chuckled at the memory of the sly smirk the older man had given him.

When he thought about it, everyone in the Tower was thrilled about their plans for him, yet no one was willing to share.

He had gotten pretty close to getting Captain Rogers to talk, but Natasha was even quicker to intervene, giving the soldier a harsh jab with her elbow to his ribs with an even harsher glare.

“That man.. Always going the extra mile.” She sighed exasperatedly, but the smile remained on her lips, as he covered another laugh.

Tony Stark, a billionaire who took Peter Parker under his wing and acted as a second parent, when May was occupied with work.

Then, the family expanded to the Avengers, and then New York’s vigilantes, and Peter had found another family he could run to.

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He stares at the ceiling, it’s another long and quiet night of this week, and he’s grown tired.

It isn’t until the sunlight blinds his eyes, that he realizes it is daytime. His dark circles have become prominent, he doesn’t need a mirror to know it.

The scars that envelope his body are still very much present, cruelly reminding him of every second of the past.

Of his failure.

He slowly turns his head, staring blankly at the window, his wheelchair mocking him. He has the urge to punch a wall, to throw the wheelchair out of the window, but he didn’t, couldn’t.

If he counts correctly, he has managed to get four hours of sleep: two of them coming from a nap he had taken the other day.

Natasha had gently and wordlessly directed his head onto her lap, when she noticed his eyes were drooping. They had been playing a movie, that afternoon. It was a new movie that was supposedly good, though he isn’t sure what the plot was even about. 

He’s become grateful for all the hoodies and long-sleeved clothes Stark had gotten him. They hide the things he doesn’t want to see. Not now, not ever.

He doesn’t really remember everything that’s happened, since the event. More like he doesn’t want to. 

It all becomes a mess of blurs: crying, screaming, hopelessness, anger, hatred, fear and insanity.

Everything became cloudy, his mind was trapped in a hailstorm. What’s worst is that he does not feel the urge to try and get out of it just yet. No. He merely allows his body to sink further, until he is suffocating. 

He pushes down the want to hear her voice again, her light tone when she’d wake him up on the weekends for breakfast.

He’d force himself up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, as he came into the kitchen for burnt toast or undercooked pancakes. Even her mother-like nagging for him to wake up for school, when he stayed up late the previous night to finish his homework.

The horrifying images are securely locked in his memory for the rest of his life, to continue to haunt him endlessly.

Almost three awful months have gone by.

He isn’t in a fatal state anymore, that was ten long weeks ago.

The impact of falling hundreds of feet off the ledge had affected his legs, damaged his nerves and broke several bones in his body from the weight of the vehicle.

Spider-Man had super-human strength, incredible reflexes and enhanced healing.

But even under all of that, he wasn’t invincible.

Bruce had assured him that thanks to his abnormal body —the scientist had found out that the teen could do the impossible; regenerate and replace destroyed nerves— and enhanced healing, with time, patience and practice, Peter would eventually regain the privilege of walking on his own two feet again.

For now, he had to sit in a wheelchair every day to allow his system to fully rest and heal, before putting any additional stress on it.

He couldn’t even move his legs, if he wanted to. It took a while to regenerate the missing neurones after all. He’d have to be patient and allow his body to recuperate.

There’s a soft knock at the door, as he has just finished changing into another oversized outfit by himself. He doesn’t bother answering, as the other has slowly opened it, peering their head into the crack.

He stuffs his scarred hands into their rightful pockets, as Clint makes his way beside him, with a soft, reassuring smile. He kneels down, trying to catch Peter’s dark brown, sunken eyes.

The archer nervously bites his bottom lip, trying to maintain his smile, when he spots the kid’s scar below his jaw.

“I see you managed to get changed by yourself. Good job, Spidey!” He attempts to encourage him, with a cheerful voice.

But he can’t ignore the lifeless eyes that stare back at the ground. There is little reaction. 

Ever since he had woken up after the crash, the kid had barely spoken or reacted. Sometimes they wondered, if he was even there, with how little he moved or talked.

Even a doll’s eyes held livelier light than his and it scares them. It scares them a lot.

“You ready for breakfast?” He tries to sound excited, normal, familiar. 

Unsurprisingly, there’s merely a long silence between them that makes his stomach churn.

They had all agreed to take turns, each day, to bring the kid downstairs, deciding it’d be a good start through his healing journey.

Today is Barton’s turn, and everyone in the common room is patiently waiting to see their youngest member, like any other day.

When he earns the smallest shrug from the Spider, the archer smiles to himself. At least it is something.

He holds onto the handles, pushing the kid out the door and into the elevator, as his eyes keep track of any potential change in his state.

He starts a few conversations, though all of them sound more with himself with the little answers he receives back, if you count blinking as one.

When the doors slide open, they’re welcomed with a domestic sight:

Wanda, Vision and Sam are occupied with making breakfast, as both of them make sure to keep a close eye on the humanoid. Sam is flipping pancakes, while Wanda and Vision take care of the classic: eggs, bacon and toast.

Natasha and Bucky are on the sofa watching the news, while having casual and uninteresting chats in Russian. 

Steve, Bruce and, what a miracle it is to spot, Tony Stark, in the common room at this ungodly time of the day, are sitting at the table, a few holograms are pulled up.

Everyone’s attention shifts to the two who entered. Not wanting to overwhelm the kid, Bruce and Stark are the first to walk over to them.

Clint notices the way some of their shoulders deflate with disappointment, when they see that the kid’s demeanour hasn’t changed a single bit. They’re quick to cover it up, but nothing goes unseen under Hawkeye’s observations.

They have all tried to make him happy, to bring back the old overly chatty, optimistic, awkward, curious, clumsy, loving and shy Peter Parker they knew and horribly missed.

Even then, they still keep their smiles, while wishing that he’d return his own back to them, one day.

They are determined.

“Good morning, Bambino.” Stark’s voice is rough, deeper than usual, but soft. His cup of coffee having been long forgotten on the table, beside Steve.

God, he desperately wants to get the kid back. Three months and still barely any progress. They haven’t even made a crack.

Rhodey, Bruce, Tony and Sam had worked on finding the best therapist they could for Peter. One they could trust with his life-long secret and who were specialized in dealing with grieving teenage spider kids.

They’d call the ones that seemed promising, see how the first meeting would go and if they were a keeper, perhaps they would share the teen’s counterpart, to help better understand the situation and what they were dealing with.

The past therapists, they had chosen, had visited him every day on his medical bed, but nothing ever came out of his mouth.

There were times, where he would web them to the wall if he didn’t particularly like them.

It scared the shit out of them, when FRIDAY would call one of them over to the medbay and they’d find a terrified professional webbed against the white walls.

The kid was already known for being Spider-Man’s tech assistant, so the actual connection didn’t really click.

Near the end of the third week, on his sixth one, for the first time, he shot Steve an angered glare and it hurt the man a lot. It had felt like a slap across the face, he thinks he would’ve preferred jumping on top of a grenade all over again.

That was the second reaction they had gotten out of him, since the accident.

The first being drowning himself in tears, as his body heavily trembled, when they dreadfully announced the news about his dear aunt.

Though, they were forced to sedate him, effectively knocking him out, when he had attempted to force himself out of bed. The look of betrayal, as his body tried to fight through lethargy filled them with shame. 

Eventually, they had no choice but to have Sam as his therapist for now. Even if he couldn’t get the kid to talk, he still wasn’t webbed to the wall, unlike the unlucky ones.

When Peter was admitted out of the medbay, his first move was to lock himself in his bedroom for two whole weeks.

He chose to isolate himself from everyone, and they allowed him, deciding that he probably wanted to be alone. Trying to include a therapist in his life had showed the opposite effect, so they were being cautious with their next moves. If they weren’t careful, who knew what the kid would try to do to himself. 

It hurt to be shut down, but someone would bring him food to his room, gently knocking and leaving it in front of the door.

On the first day, the Spider didn’t even bother picking the tray up, leaving it as it was, they weren’t certain if he had even opened to see.

They knocked on his door, more insistently, begging him to at least snack on something.

But they were left in deafening silence.

Still, they kept dropping food in front of his door, his three meals a day and even a couple of his favourite snacks. No one bothered hiding their disappointment or concern, when one of them came back with food that was left untouched.

They didn’t give up, though.

Five days later, Steve’s eyes suddenly widened with hope, his body halting, when he noticed that the smallest chunk of the chocolate chip muffin, Sam had made, was bitten off. His eyes scanned between the wooden door and treat, before he felt a small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. 

When he went ahead and excitedly showed it to the others, Sam took the opportunity to bombarde the kitchen with baked goods.

He spent time learning new recipes he thought the kid would like, occasionally getting help from the super soldier. It was nice to know that the Spider still had his unbearable sweet tooth that no one could match with.

Tony had ordered FRIDAY to open the window, when the common room began to have a lingering stench of sugar, eggs and butter.

Another two days later, Natasha smiled fondly to herself, when she saw that the bowl of rice was half eaten, and a quarter of the miso soup was missing.

Sometimes, on the good days, some of the snacks they’d leave in front of his bedroom door would disappear, within the span of three hours.

Sam’s pride had especially gone up that week, when many of his treats he’d left for Peter at his door were returned with either half or an empty plate in hand.

On Sunday night of the second week of his isolation, they had a meeting with everyone besides the kid himself. They all decided that it was best to pull Peter out of his room, before he could do anymore damage. They’d let him socialize with the others on his own pace and hopefully they’d be able to show him that he wasn’t alone. 

“Good morning, Peter. How is your body doing? Are you feeling any pain?” Bruce quietly asks.

Today, Peter chooses to stay quiet. Like usual.  

The scientist offers him a sad smile, before gently and carefully pulling his right hand out.

When he had first done it, he was immediately webbed to the table with a yelp. Though, over time, it grew to be their daily routine, when the Spider didn’t answer.

He places his index and middle on the Spider’s wrist, humming with satisfaction when his heart rate is stable. Well, as stable as it can be, as Peter’s pulse is much quicker, than an average person.

Both Clint and Tony wince at the scars and the tremors, but they all choose not to comment, knowing how much Peter is heavily self-conscious about them.

“Seems like you’re doing good, I’m glad. I just wanted to let you know that next week will be your next physical check up with me, alright?” The scientist gently reminds.

Clint takes it as his cue to push the teen to the dining table, as everyone slowly makes their way around, as well.

Nobody argues, when the billionaire claims the spot besides the teen.

Though, it is always a race for the other side.

This time, Bucky proudly snatches the seat, a second earlier than the other Russian spy, who glares daggers at his throat.

He silently flips her off with his metal arm, earning an unimpressed glare from their captain. Natasha decides to sit diagonal to the kid, who stares at his empty plate.

They enjoy their breakfast in peace. As usual now, Peter eats very little, something that took getting used to.

With her magic, Wanda assists to filling the Spider’s glass of water and cutting his food into chewable pieces, when the other makes no move to pick up his utensil.

Peter doesn’t like seeing the way the water inside the glass will constantly waver, while in his grasp. His hands just won’t stop shaking.

He used to have such stealthy hands, but now, he can’t even hold the lightest of objects without trembling.

Sometimes, it makes him angry. So angry, that he wants to break the object into pieces.

He had done it once, when Steve, him, Sam and Wanda sat around the table with art supplies. They decided to try art therapy with paint and pencils, everyone was doing their own project, trying to give the kid his own space.

By the third time Peter had lifted his brush to dip it in paint, his knuckles turned white as he snapped the brush in half.

Despite the unrelenting grip, his face remained neutral, but his eyes were filled with this new, unnerving anger on the tool and his offending hand that just wouldn’t stop fucking trembling.

No one reprimanded him for it, but Steve quietly took the brush from him with a little more force, when sticky fingers wouldn’t let go and splinters began seeping into scarred skin.

They decided that it was enough and transported him to the living room where they watched Star Wars movies for the rest of the afternoon.  

No matter how long it takes, no one left the dining table, until Peter would at least eat something off his plate.

Every week, they’d give him a small push to eat a little more than before, and half of the time he’d listen.

When Peter pushes the plate away from him, deeming that he’s finished, Steve volunteers to bring the Spider to the living room.

It’s around 9 am, his meetings with Sam are usually in the afternoons.

Wanda decides to pull out some puzzles her and Rhodey had bought the other week, while they were out to buy some sandwiches from Spider-Man’s favourite place.

She scatters the different boards around the coffee table, before settling on a Garfield one. She places it in front of Peter, as she tags along in building the pieces together with him.

Steve decides to watch from the sofa with his art supplies, creating messy sketches in his sketchbook, while Star Wars is playing in the background. Hopefully creating a domestic environment will give the kid some kind of comfort. 

———————

When it’s time for bed, Tony goes ahead and brings him to his room. He rubs soothing circles on the teen’s knuckles, while sharing a few stories of his childhood in hopes of getting closer with the kid.

Though, it is suffocating and makes him numb inside, he talks about his father and how he felt neglected. How he made many shitty choices, but he still finds himself here, alive, and saving people.

Feelings aren’t something Tony Stark is familiar with, but he tries very hard to open up. He’d sometimes choke up on tough memories, and the Spider, though non-responsive, listened.

Sometimes, on stressful or generally bad nights, he chose to stay quiet, as they both basked in the silence with nothing, yet too much on their minds.

Even with nothing showing on his features, Peter would shed a few silent tears, and Tony would wipe them away with his thumb, as he continued to talk.

Sometimes he wondered if he’d ever see the kid smile again. He’d practically get down on his knees and beg, if it meant he’d see Peter smile with joy, even if it was for one short second. He’d shoulder Peter’s pain in a heartbeat if he could. 

When the kid is tucked under the blanket, the billionaire settles on the side of the bed and gazes around the room.

“You know… That lawyer, Murdock, called earlier. Asked how you were and if he and his firm partners could come and see you.”

Peter slowly blinks, before his pupils barely shift upwards.

“Wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I told them I’d call them back after I asked you.”

As expected, the kid doesn’t answer. Tony sighs, before staring at the door.

“I’ll call them tomorrow, what do lawyers even like to eat?” He wonders, not expecting any replies.

He had to battle every second to not fall back into the habit he worked so hard to push away.

His mind was clouded, as he paced back and forth, waiting for something to happen, as the doctors did all they could for both the aunt and nephew.

Natasha had had to slap him a couple of times, when he tried to reach into the cabinet he knew was filled with whiskey and other heavily alcoholic concoctions.

He never made a remark, not even on the particularly harsher ones that left a red mark in the aftermath.

“You and I both know that he wouldn’t want you cutting years of hard work you’ve done for yourself.”

She’d leave, confident that the lingering sting and words would make him think twice on his decision.

And it did.

———————

Everyone else is sitting around the table, most stares directed at Sam, who offers a sympathetic sigh.

“Nothing.. He mainly stared out the window, while I talked to him.” He dejectedly denounces.

Everyone deflates once again, but both Natasha and Clint suddenly glance at each other in silent communication. 

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.

.

He could practically feel his eyelids falling, but he forced himself to stay awake.

May would chuckle at him, when she’d see him suddenly bob his head back, eyes wide open, before he fell slack again.

He took the time to scroll through the pictures, sometimes deleting a few blurry ones, but there weren’t that many.

He smiled at the ones with May, and grinned even wider when it was just the both of them, happily enjoying their time together.

By now, they were making their way off the cliff, barely any cars were on the road. The song on the radio had tuned into some casual jazz music. May seemed to like it, so Peter made no move to change it.

They were having a nice chat, something about their next trip and where they should go, before Peter’s phone began ringing.

He smiled brightly, as he read the caller ID, sparing May a glance, before answering the phone with a light tone.

“Hey Mr. Stark!” The Spider happily chirped.

May rolled her eyes at his sudden enthusiasm. Leave it to the billionaire to fully awaken her nephew up in mere seconds.

“Hey Bambino, guessing you’re on your way home?” From a distance, Peter could hear the faint sounds of drilling and sparks.

He smiled suddenly remembering the fun ideas for projects they could do together. Ideas he had come up with during the trip.

“Yeah, we’re probably gonna make it back by… Tomorrow? I bought souvenirs for everyone!” He babbled and heard the other man chuckle.

They were stuffed into a shopping bag, carefully seated on the left side of the back seats.

“Gotta say, leave it to you to make everyone in the Tower all sad and sulking. They all miss you, kid.”

Peter felt his cheeks burning at the sudden declaration, clearing his throat in surprise, while ignoring May’s curiosity and raised eyebrow.

He couldn’t really understand nor believe, why Earth’s mightiest heroes would miss a 15-year-old boy from Queens that earned his powers by getting bit by a radioactive spider.

But here he was.

“Miss me? Mr. Stark.. It’s only been a week. Pretty… sure, you’re exaggerating. Why would they miss me?” He asked, absolutely oblivious to the affection he earned from each member.

He could practically hear the eye roll he received from the other line, as the older man sighed exasperatedly.

“I seriously don’t understand you. You’re a freaking teenage genius that can compete with my intelligence, but you’re also simultaneously, absolutely blind and dumb.” He muttered out.

He couldn’t help the offended pout that formed around his lips.

He was about to return a snarky remark in retaliation, when he felt a familiar pinch on the back of his neck.

“I-“

“Hi, Peter!” He recognized Wanda’s voice over the line, as a few other muffled voices could be heard in the background.

He waved lazily, before remembering that he was on the phone.

“Hi Wanda.” He ignored May’s poorly hidden snort, as he glared at her.

“We are on a quick mission to an abandoned HYDRA base. We’re like two hours away from it. Oh, Clint says hi, by the way.” He blinked in surprise, leaning forward into his seat.

“Oh man, d-do you guys need me? I mean, I can try to get there and—“ He looked at the back seats, trying to remember which luggage held his Spider-Man suit.

“Underoos, no— a quiet sigh, it’s just a simple mission, especially if I can work on my own project while we’re making our way there. You don’t have to worry about it. Besides, you sound pretty tired, guessing you had fun on your trip?” He teased.

His cheeks flushed a soft pink, again, as he awkwardly coughed. 

May sighed exasperatedly, earning another sharp glare from the teen.

“Y-Yeah..” A yawn, feeling tears prickling at his eyes, “I took a lot of pictures too! Can’t wait to see you all.”

A lopsided smile stretched on his lips.

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By the end of the next week, Peter has gone through his physical test, with Tony carefully and silently watching at his side.

Strange would sometimes join along on his free time. His knowledge in this domain expanded further than Bruce’s.

Though, because the Peter isn’t an ordinary kid, they still needed to perform more tests and studies to better understand his anatomy and abilities.

It’s also nice, since they both now share scars that come from traumatizing accidents. Car accidents.

No one missed how the teen’s eyes would lifelessly linger on the sorcerer’s hands, whenever they were near him.

They thought that perhaps seeing someone else relate to him helped, so whenever he could, the older man would remove his gloves, during examinations and visits.

Stephen would spare him a few smiles, as he stared pitifully at the brunette.

If he could, he’d stay a little longer in the common room with Peter.

The cloak of levitation, never too far behind, occasionally wrapped itself around him when it noticed the boy shiver. Strange would give Peter a firm nod, before leaving to deal with dimensional business.

They always gave him an hour break after his examination, before rolling him in to talk with Sam.

For this week, the moment he leaves the private room with the temporary therapist, both spies happily decide to steal him away from the others.

“I think it’s time to go out on a little adventure, right, Spidey?” When the archer receives no response, he takes it as permission.

———————

It’s a nice day outside, the weather is warm, so it isn’t necessary to wear any heavy clothing.

Both spies still wore sunglasses, as Natasha had casually and swiftly called “Dibs on pushing Peter in the wheelchair.” and Clint groaned in annoyance.

They decide to take a relaxing stroll to a nearby park, ignoring the stares they receive from the crowd, as they make their way there. As long as Peter didn’t seem to mind the pairs of eyes on them, they made no move to interject.

As expected, the park is pretty empty and quiet.

They’d sometimes hear birds chirping. Not many people, aside from a few runners and, maybe, one or two elderly couple would pass by.

They take their time walking through the park, admiring the colourful, fragrant flowers and giant trees that bloom and sway to the light breeze.

They can’t help but frown, when they receive no reaction from the Spider. Everyone knows Peter Parker loves going outside and loves gazing at the flowers. Especially because May enjoyed doing that as well.

But the kid didn’t even spare more than a second glance, before his eyes returned onto his empty lap.

They spend almost an hour in the park, before both adults finally admit that this hasn’t helped their case.

Peter had simply gone along with whatever they did at the park. Eventually, after one last walk around the playground, they decide to head back.

They take a different route, passing by many stores beside each other, but none captures his interest.

Natasha spares Clint a glance, his sad eyes locked onto a mess of brown curls.

She takes pity on the archer, knowing that his paternal instincts made the disappointment hurt even more.

She’s thinking of how she’s going to denounce it to everyone, who were all hopeful and expectant towards their plan—

The subtlest bark reaches enhanced ears, as his head suddenly shoots upwards.

He looks at the rundown building they’re walking past, watching from the window. It’s difficult to see what’s inside, the white walls and plain decoration remind him of the medbay.

But, as the barking becomes prominent, Peter is more attracted to go inside.

Both adults catch onto his sudden curiosity, and both immediately rush to his attention.

“Peter? Is there something wrong?” Natasha is the first to speak, her soothing voice makes his head whirl around.

He stares into her blue eyes, and slowly with trembling, delicate fingers, he points at the worn-out establishment.

His attention falls back to the dirty window, as the other two share a confused look, between each other.

“You wanna go in there?” Clint hesitantly asks, and when he receives a firm nod, they both can’t bring themselves to deny the teen.

For the first time in two months, it’s the most non-negative reaction they’ve received from him.

There aren’t any signs to display, as to what this place is about, yet the teen seems rather eager to go inside.

Warily, the archer holds the glass door open, as a bell chimes at their presence.

There’s a small reception, a few potted plants and a worn-out sofa with two plastic chairs. There are documents and papers taped to the wall behind the counter, and suddenly a petite woman rushes, from out the door.

She has a welcoming smile, and piercing green eyes, that are hidden behind black round glasses. Her hair is a dirty blond, that is tied into a messy bun with a thick elastic.

“Welcome to the dog shelter! Are you interested in adopting one of our dogs here?” Her voice is filled with energy, and her eyes hold hope.

The same hope everyone, back at the Tower, had.

They all want two different, yet similar things, and that’s when realization dawns on them.

Ah. Of course..

“Uh.. Well.. we just wanted to take a look around, if that’s alright? Meet the dogs.” Natasha can’t help but show a gentle smile.

This is definitely Peter Parker-like.

“Yes, of course! My name is Rachel, by the way. We have many dogs looking for a new home, and a loving family. Are there any specific breeds or qualifications you’re looking to meet?” She leads them through the door she had come from, revealing a vast area filled with dogs.

The strong smell hits their noses and the loud barking and cage scratching rattles against their ears. But none of them complain.

Especially not, when they see it: the Spider’s eyes suddenly spark a little, his hands twitch with anticipation, probably to pet them.

“Not for now, we’re pretty open minded.” Natasha decides on, eyeing a large, fluffy Border Collie.

Rachel nods, letting them explore the area, as she heads somewhere else.

Each section holds one to two dogs, a bed, bowls and a toy. They all wag their tails excitedly, at the new guests.

The first dog they walk up to is a Bulldog who pants, with a red rope-toy in rough shape, between its paws.

Besides it, there’s an energized Cocker Spaniel, who’s more than happy to grab their attention. Its fluffy ears bounce around, as the breed jumps inside its cage.

They take their time visiting each dog, and both spies feel a certain warmth, when Peter would lean down, as far as his body allowed him to, to let the animal sniff his hands, before he softly pets them.

———————

Two hours into their visit, and they’ve practically met each ball of fur and saliva.

Rachel would come up to them a few times, check in with them, and occasionally share information about the pup they were seeing.

In the middle of the room, there’s a German Shepherd that seems to have caught the Spider’s attention.

It’s a lot less energetic than many of the other dogs, and more on the calm and mature side. Rachel seems to pick up on Peter’s interest and takes the opportunity to speak up.

“This is Valentino, he’s a two-year-old German Shepherd and is a lot calmer, than the other dogs. He’s a sweetheart and very smart, though, he’s quite closed off.”

Valentino’s eyes curiously glance at Peter’s, as he slowly lifts his head. He gently bumps his black, wet nose against the teen’s knuckles, when the Spider reaches out.

“Valentino used to work with the police, but after an accident, he lost his hearing in his right ear and most of his enthusiasm, when they dropped him here.” She glanced sadly at the dog.

“He was quite injured and was paralyzed, for a short while. But he’s alright now, after surgery. If you want, we have an area where you can play with him.” She suggests, knowingly.

Peter hesitantly looks at her kind green eyes, before nodding.

Natasha gives a smirk to the other, as they follow the lady and wait for her to bring Valentino inside the room.

Peter’s head shoots up, the moment he hears large, heavy paws padding, against the tiled floor.

Before the door can even fully open, a fluff of brown and black fur practically bulldozes the rest of the door wide open and rushes to the boy.

His tail wags aggressively to the point where they can hear it, as he settles his two front paws on his armrests, effectively caging the kid.

“Woah! Buddy, gentle! So sorry, this-“ She’s cut off, by her own surprised laugh.

“This is the first time he’s been this energetic, about meeting someone.”

As if to prove a point, he lets out a happy bark, before deciding to cover Peter’s face in saliva. After reassurance from the adults, Rachel decides to let the trio alone, to get to know Valentino better.

Time seems to have slowed down for the spies, when they hear it.

They hear Peter giggle.

They both freeze in place, eyes glued onto the sight of a boy in a wheelchair, who hasn’t smiled in three long months, now currently giggling his lungs out, as his hands scratch the back of the German Shepherd’s ear.

They are completely stunned, to the point where they stay silent, until it’s time to go, which ends up being an hour later.

Dinner will probably be ready, by the time they return, and Peter’s smile falls, when it’s time to say goodbye.

“Don’t worry, you can come back, whenever you want! Valentino will be here waiting for you.” Rachel happily reassures the kid, when she sees his frown.

As they walk out the door, Natasha is, suddenly, stopped by a gentle tug at her sleeve. Rachel watches her, with hopeful and sincere eyes.

“If you ask me, I think Valentino would be perfect for that boy. But, of course, I’m not pressuring you to adopt!” She flails her hands in panic, worried she pressured the Widow.

“It’s just.. If you do consider, you should probably hurry, Valentino might not be here for much longer, if things don’t turn out well.” She decides with a sad smile.

From the window, she stares at Peter, with Clint pushing his wheelchair. Natasha raises an eyebrow at her suggestion, and she gives a small head tilt.

“What do you mean?” She asks curiously, catching Rachel’s attention back.

“Well, there are so many abandoned and abused animals around the world. So, many in fact, that shelters struggle to be able to keep them..”

Natasha isn’t blind to that truth; she had seen her fair share of stray cats and dogs roaming along the streets. Spider-Man was sometimes seen dropping off canned pet food, as he left them open for whoever found them.

Those were the few exceptions, where he’d ask Stark for money. And when the man found out, he had asked FRIDAY to order a whole stock, and left the kid to happily swing around New York to giddily hand them out.

“And well.. Some like us struggle financially, to be able to keep this place open, which is why the shop isn’t so… Eye catching?” She lets out a regretful huff, before looking back at the spy.

“To be honest.. I’m not so sure how much longer we can keep this place open, and, if we have no choice, but to close it... Well… There aren’t really any more nearby shelters that have enough room to house these pups..” She takes a deep breath, before continuing.

“So.. Consider it, alright? I’ll try my best to keep this place standing, and I really do hope that, that boy gets better. Have a good day!” They both sourly bid each other farewell.

Natasha joins the other two, as they make their way back into the Tower.

She slows her steps, as she pulls out a phone, dialling Steve’s number. After the first ring, an expectant super soldier is waiting on the other line, for news.

“Well?” She can’t help, but roll her eyes, at the childlike tone, from a grown man many people looked up to, but then again, she can’t blame him.

“We’ll talk about this over dinner... But, for now.. I thought you might want to have a head start.”

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.

.

“Peter?” Everything around him, the sounds surrounding him were muffled, as he looked out of each window.

May, frantically, tried to watch over the road, while searching for a spot they could park, and check on her nephew. But they were stuck on a narrow road.

The lack of sleep didn’t help his case, delaying his reaction time and thinking speed. He felt tipsy, his head spinning nonstop, as he kept his eyes moving around.

“Peter, honey... What’s wrong?” May settled her delicate hand on his leg, trying to regain his attention.

Her eyes multitasked between her kid and driving. She jumped a little, when she saw his fearful eyes.

The moment she gave a gentle squeeze, that’s when his skin started burning, and the ringing got unbearably louder.

“Peter—“ Her voice was gentle, laced with worry.

She was clueless, of what was happening.

“May—!” He screamed out her name, in panic.

He could hear the voice of Stark and Wanda, further away, as the phone fell onto the carpeted ground, between his feet.

One second too late, and he found himself trying to drag them both out of the car.

Gravity was against them. His head started bleeding, from smashing it against the window, as the other car had carelessly crashed into them, at full speed.

The metal barrier broke from the force, as he saw the fear in May’s tear-filled eyes.

He had just managed to pull his upper half out of the vehicle, stretching his arm out to her, when they plummeted to the ground—

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.

“Tony... I know this is sudden and—“

Look, the man is trying. He knew what was going to happen, and still went along with it.

“A dog?! Rogers, you cannot be serious! I already told you all, I absolutely do not want pets in the Tower!”

The billionaire shouts at the poor man, outraged by Steve’s sudden request to get a dog, without further context.

It isn’t necessarily his fault, Natasha wasn’t so generous enough, to give him any more details other than “Convince Tony to get a dog.” and had hung up the phone, in his face, before he could spare another word.

He glared at the phone, as if it’d help his case, before an awkward cough caught his attention. Wanda was looking at him, waiting for whatever he had to share.

Steve, nervously, bit his lip.

He called out to the billionaire, who was tiredly drinking coffee in the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow, while making his way over to the super soldier.

“Yes... I know.. But—“ Their argument has gone on, for fifteen agonizing —especially, for Steve— minutes, while the other traitors silently stare at the two, from the couch.

He starts wondering, if the billionaire is going to throw the empty mug, he’s currently holding, at him from the knuckle white grip he has on it.

It isn’t until they hear the sound of the elevator, that within a blink of an eye, Stark’s anger has completely seeped away into nothing.

Steve sighs out in relief, practically close to collapsing on the ground, from surviving the wrath.

“They really do fight, like an old married couple.” He shoots Sam an annoyed glare, with one perfect eyebrow, dangerously raised, immediately shutting the other man up.

Though, everyone’s attention is quickly stolen, when the metal doors slide open, revealing one grinning archer, a neutral faced spy, and one fur-covered Spiderling.

Peter’s eyes are still glued to his lap, as he doesn’t attempt to make any greetings. Everyone else, who hasn’t gone out, aren’t certain with what to make of that.

‘Did it go well..?’

Dinner is already finished, as they all had waited for the other three to return, so they could all sit around the table.

This time, it’s Natasha’s turn to flip Barnes off. Smirking, when Steve shoots her a death glare, for multiple reasons.

Tony is twirling his thumbs around, as he was probably the most reluctant to let the teen outside, especially without him.

The horrifying possibilities, that could happen conjured up in his mind, when Peter was away from his protection, scared the man.

They had agreed to go with the least recognizable people (eyes immediately darted towards Steve, Tony, Vision and Bruce) choosing the ones that were experienced with not getting caught and playing the roles of civilians, while looking out for any potential threat.

Their first priority, as always, is to make sure Peter’s plate is filled, before anyone else’s. They’d put one of each dish they’d have for dinner, lunch and breakfast, in this case, it is a diverse mix of Thai food.

When they deem his plate to be full enough, for now, knowing that the teen never even makes it halfway through, they start grabbing for their own.

The light conversations they’d have with each other are long forgotten, as all eyes are between the three who had left the Tower for 4 anticipating hours.

They sit in silence, both Clint and Natasha having a silent conversation between who would speak up first.

Peter seeming the only oblivious one to the tension, as his eyes are on his plate, and his shaking hands fidgets with his spoon.

He liked using chopsticks, but now that his hands were unsteady, it became difficult to pick things up.

“So... How did today’s outing go?” Bruce decides to speak up, clearing his throat, as everyone turns stiff.

“…”

Another minute of silence goes by, and Clint decides to open his mouth, preparing to share the news, when—

“There... w-were.. a lot— o-of… dogs...” The room goes deadly silent, when the hoarse, but small voice speaks up, for the first time in a long time.

A quiet voice that stutters between each wording, that now isn’t used to speaking.

For anyone who isn’t caught up with their situation, they would’ve found it funny, seeing a dinner table surrounded, by heroes that have their eyes comically wide.

Their brains are frozen, needing to take a while to process what has just happened.

‘Was that..— Was that… Peter….?’

Luckily, Bruce is the first to break through the stunned phase, not letting this opportunity slip away from them.

He offers a gentle smile, scooping a spoonful of rice.

“Really? That sounds nice, what kind of dogs?”

Aliens? Easy. Nazis? Pfft, piece of cake. Crazy people who were obsessed with the want for power? Walk in the park. Robots that wanted to rule the world? Been there, done that.

But this? The sight of a young boy, with his head shooting upwards, as his eyes sparkle with a new light, while he rambles on about each dog he met at a shelter?

That is what destroyed each one of them. (In a good way, of course)

Stark’s kid— No- Fuck that bullshit.

Their kid is rambling on with life in his eyes and energy in his tone. His rambles they all dearly miss and crave to hear again. For once, they all agree that they have made some progress...

They all listen attentively, as he lists each dog, one by one, from looks, to breed, to gender, to name, to age. No one grew bored, in fact, they want the Spiderling to keep talking.

Dinner goes on, as Peter takes the spotlight. The innocent smile on his face melts their hearts, into a puddle of mush.

No one misses the fond looks Tony gives, his eyes prickling with tears in them, while his smile can overcome the sun.

Wanda seems eager to go with him, wanting to meet the dogs and to obtain the chance to see Peter giggle.

No one would admit that they are jealous of the spies, for being able to hear Peter giggle.

Absolutely not.

Especially not, when the duo has shit-eating grins on their faces, radiating “Heh, bet you wished you were there.”

This time, Steve is actually glad that Bucky gives them a middle finger.

———————

Tony Stark is completely against having pets in his lovely, majestic Tower.

Absolutely not. Not now, not ever.

He was outraged, when Steve had dared to suggest it, when he had made it very clear about that topic.

He didn’t hate animals; he just didn’t want them anywhere near his home. Especially cats and dogs, not when they shedded a ridiculous amount of fur and drooled like there was no tomorrow.

Yet, that very same Tony Stark is here, currently sitting on the common room sofa with a Starkpad in hand, looking up the shelter the teen had gone to, at two in the fucking morning.

Right after he put Peter to bed, he rushed over to Natasha for the name of the place.

She confidently smirked at him. “So, about that dog…”

“Fuck off, Romanoff.”

He’s currently making plans on donating at least a million dollars to the place, without a second thought. No one objected, especially not when they got to have part of their Peter back.

It’s crazy to think that a kid from Queens who possessed freaky spider powers, has somehow managed to change Tony Stark’s mind into getting a dog in mere seconds.

He can get over the fur shedding, worst case, he’d call some cleaners to come over every week, or regularly change the furniture.

When you are a multi-billionaire, you tend to spend your money freely, with little care.

He mindlessly scrolls through the long list they have on their amateur website of the dogs that are up for adoption, recognizing them all.

‘He really did remember each one…’ Tony thinks fondly, this kid is really going to be the death of him.

(In a good and bad way, of course)

However, his eyes and mind are glued onto one specific dog.

“A-And.. There... was this… G-German Shepherd.. His name.. was.. Va-Valentino... I-I got to play w-with him... and—“ It was easy to understand that Valentino was the one who caught the kid’s heart.

They could all easily tell, especially with how his eyes softened even further, when he mentioned his name. Though, the kid made no request of wanting to get him, Tony had other plans.

He smiles to himself, while staring at the screen that displays a German Shepherd. His eyes are threatening to fall asleep.

In all fairness, he could deal with this tomorrow, but Tony Stark can be and is currently impatient.

He pulls out his phone, his eyes never moving off the Starkpad, as the phone rings, loud and clear in his ear.

“Tony..? I just had to abruptly leave a very important meeting. If you’re seriously calling me again because you miss me, I swear I’ll—“ The voice on the other line sounds frustrated.

His throat suddenly hurts, it still all feels like a dream to him.

“Pep.. Peter… Peter- He...” The line suddenly grows quiet, as Pepper’s ranting comes to a stop.

He can hear shuffling sounds, as well as a door opening.

“My apologies, but I’m afraid I’ll have to end the meeting early. I have some very important business to deal with, right now. I deeply appreciate and thank all of you for coming here, let’s all get along.” No one objects her sudden dismissal, not with the cold tone and intimidating eyes.

There are footsteps moving around, before the door shuts and she sighs to herself. He takes it as his cue to continue, he bites his lip nervously.

“You should’ve seen him.. Even I can’t believe it, Pep. I saw him. He talked.. with such a bright smile, I was so scared that I was having another dream. Peter— He was there, he came back.. He was so happy.” His chest tightens, as the fresh memory replays so vividly in his mind.

He slowly grows concerned, as the silence goes on for longer than anticipated.

“Y-You... Anthony Edward Stark. You better not be joking with me— You can’t be playing around, this—“

“Pepper. You and I both know that I would never joke around with this. Please.. The kid.. I saw him, his eyes looked so clear—“ He chokes on a quiet sob, he didn’t realize how much his hands are shaking.

He suddenly feels wide awake, like he can conquer something.

He can’t blame her for feeling like this, no one handled the news well, when they found out the kid and his aunt had been in an accident.

.

.

.

His limbs were in positions that weren’t normal, his breathing was laboured, and he had lost a dangerous amount of blood.

Everyone refused to leave the waiting room, as the surgery went on for fifteen stressful hours. They were grateful that his enhanced healing was already on its duty of reproducing and replacing the blood he was missing.

They were lucky enough that he didn’t suffer from any brain damage, though the accident had still left him with a serious concussion.

However, they couldn’t say the same for his aunt, as she wasn’t enhanced like him, she was immediately killed, when they crashed on the ground.

Her neck had snapped, completely cutting off her air circulation and her body couldn’t handle the immense pain and shock, causing it to completely shut down.

Peter was there to watch it all, still awake and unable to do anything, but let the pain consume him, growing worst by the second.

He had lost complete control and feelings of his legs. He had come close to having them amputated.

He was given an extreme amount of sedative, to numb the pain and make the teen fall asleep, on their way to the medbay.

Tony was lucky, the phone being practically unbreakable was able to show Peter’s location. His ears still rang from the loud crash, as he desperately cried out Peter’s name, this caught everyone’s attention.

When it was clear that something serious had happened, Steve stared at the billionaire with something he couldn’t quite describe in his eyes. “Tony, go, now.”

And without a second thought, his suit already enveloping his body, he flew, as fast as he could. When he had arrived, he found the broken fence, with an abandoned car from the driver who had crashed into them.

Two months later, Pepper was needed abroad for an important business that they could benefit from.

She had originally declined, without a second thought. The absolute need to be by Peter’s side pushing through all her other priorities.

It took three days of convincing from the entire team and Tony to have her fly to Japan, with the promise of calling her, if there were any updates on the teen.

She spent the last three days she had left, glued to Peter before she reluctantly left. Her poor business companions had to deal with a moody, strict and scary Pepper for the time she was there, no one being brave enough to confront her or go against her.

No one dared to look at her, terrified that they’d receive her wrath.

.

.

.

“H-He... He was.. really there..? Peter.. God.. I really, really want to see him, right now...” Her voice trembles, as it gradually grows quieter.

Ever since they learnt of May’s passing, Pepper grew a sense of responsibility to be the kid’s maternal guardian.

Not to replace her, no one could ever replace her, but to show that he wasn’t alone, and that May could rest peacefully knowing that her beloved nephew was under the care of incredible people.

They share a quiet moment, both being together long enough to know that they need another moment.

“I know this is sudden.. But... Could you look into dog adoption?” He decides to beat around the bush, Pepper always prefers to be blunt and direct.

She always grows annoyed whenever you aren’t being straightforward with her, and he loves that about her. Though, the now uncomfortable silence makes him think otherwise.

“…”

“Pep-?”

“Who are you, and what the fuck did you do to my family?” Her tone suddenly grows serious and threatening, as he sighs in defeat.

Chapter Text

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.

.

The sky was clear of any clouds, reminding Peter of Steve’s charming, blue eyes.

His heart hurt with how fast it was beating, the adrenaline was still running but gradually dissipating, as his body felt as though it was on fire.

He was paralyzed, hopelessly praying that someone would come and save them. His vision grew fuzzier, as the urge of wanting to scream in pain persisted, but his blood was the only thing that came out.

Hot tears ran down his face, burning the cuts that surrounded his cheeks and jaw, as he stared at her lifeless corpse. She had crashed through the front window, her body lying limp on the ground a few inches away from the vehicle.

Her eyes were still opened but held no life, only staring off into space. He couldn’t hear her pulse, or see her chest rise and fall. The smell of blood violated his nostrils, and he had the urge to vomit.

‘May... May… May.. May...’

He forced his muscles to move, his fingers poorly stretching out towards her direction. His breathing grew louder, as the sickening sound of bones cracking and popping filled his rigging ear drums.

But he didn’t care, he wanted to be besides her, that’s what mattered to him.

‘Please.. Please don’t leave me too...’

He didn’t notice the warm liquid that surrounded him, his clothes drenched in his own blood. His broken legs had completely given up on him, as they didn’t feel attached to him anymore.

He felt like his heart was going to stop at any moment, as he gasped, letting out a pathetic whimper, when a sharp pain shot through his arm.

‘I’m sorry... I’ll be better… So please, look at me.’

It was a miracle, even for Spider-Man, to still be alive after such a fall. But the pain that overflowed his body, made him wish that the miracle would go away.

‘May.. Please... I don’t want to be alone..’

It wasn’t until what felt like an eternity —around half an hour— that he heard the familiar sound of repulsers. He couldn’t remember who it was, until he saw the silhouette of the figure getting closer and closer.

The classic red and golden colours illuminated, shining dazzlingly within the rays of the sun. The broken and desperate voice that frantically called his name made him scared.

More tears fell, as he wasn’t sure if it was from the pain or the fact that Tony Stark was finally here… 

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.

.

He opens his eyes, as he attempts to slow his frantic breathing. He recognizes this; he’s currently on the verge of a panic attack. He furiously wipes away his tears, as he sniffles miserably in bed.

His chest hurts, as he grips tightly at his shirt. Yesterday, was the first time he became so vulnerable to his emotions, his armour was decaying with all the damage it had to withstand.

He always has nightmares about the events, but he doesn’t usually cry, his wall is slowly crumbling into dust.

It had been a while, since his mind was at peace, even if it was just for that short evening.

“Spider-Baby watch protocol activated. Captain Rogers and Boss have been notified and are currently on their way.”

Tony had installed another protocol, that Peter had originally complained with how many there were.

But when he figured that knowing all of those very same protocols lowered the man’s anxiety, Peter kept quiet. Didn’t mean that he liked it, though.

If FRIDAY ever sensed that something was off, wether it was that Peter was in pain, needed assistance or was having a panic attack, she was obligated to contact anyone who was awake or nearest to him and the billionaire himself, no matter what he was doing or where he was.

He hears loud footsteps approaching his room, the pulse of Steve Roger almost equivalent to his own rapid one.

The door slams open, almost cracking from the pressure, as the man throws ‘knocking’ out the window.

“Peter!” He marches over to the shaking teen, worry clearly showing in his eyes.

He flinches at the loud sounds, letting out a pathetic whimper.

They remind him so much of May, too much, to the point where it hurt inside his chest. When Steve is at his side, Peter starts crying harder, unable to stop the new wave of tears from sliding down and wetting his blanket.

Steve isn’t certain on his next action; Peter hasn’t cried in front of any of them in so long.

In a dark and bizarre way, he’s relieved to see the teen cry, knowing that he has now slowly started opening up to his emotions.

He rubs soothing circles on his back, as the brunette grips onto his shoulder, a bone crushing grip that didn’t even make him flinch.

He’s a little hesitant, when Peter hides his face into the crook of his neck, since he has just returned from his morning run, still heavily drenched in sweat.

However, when Peter makes no decision to move away, he simply allows the boy to continue weeping, occasionally shushing him with a soft tone. 

“I-I- miss... I miss her… I m-miss her... s-so mu-much..” He breaths out between whimpers and choked out sobs, further breaking the man’s heart.

The Spider didn’t have the courage to attend or visit his relative’s funeral. Especially not, when he felt incredibly guilty for her death, or that whoever was bringing him to her gravestone would see him cry, being in his most vulnerable and weakest state.

He hated it.

“I know... But she’s in a better place, Peter. I promise.” He bites his lower lip, when the grip on his shoulder tightens.

He is now certain that he’s going to have a decent sized bruise on the area, but he doesn’t pay any mind to it.

“PETER..!” Stark soon shows up, an even worst frantic and panicked state than when Steve had first entered.

Both older men sit on the bed, comforting the crying Spider, for almost an hour, until eventually his sobs turn into muffled sniffles and hiccups. His eyes are now rimmed with red and are all puffy, as his hair is still a tornado-like mess.

Tony rocks them both, imitating a mother and her infant, as he mumbles a few comforting words. Steve keeps his hand in Peter’s shaking one, brushing his thumb over the Spider’s knuckles.

On any normal day, Peter would’ve immediately felt embarrassed or even ashamed, but today, he doesn’t want to move, he wants to stay in this position forever. He doesn’t want to be alone.

Tony brushes his sweat dampened curls away from his face, while trying to calm the teen’s immense shaking. When he’s finally calm enough to mutter words out, he keeps his face hidden against his mentor’s chest.

“..’m sorry..” His throat burns from the lack of fluids.   

He isn’t used to talking, it feels unusual and a little uncomfortable but not bad. Definitely not bad. He hates how hoarse and drained he sounds, but he isn’t given much time to reflect on it.

“Nope, no, no, nope, no, none of that, Underoos.” He gently lifts Peter’s chin, so their eyes make contact.

Steve has a similar disapproving stare, but he decides to keep quiet, letting Stark do all the parental work.

“You never apologize for showing your emotions. You have every right to, so no apologizing, right?” When he earns a hesitant nod, Stark finally allows himself to smile with ease.

“Why don’t you wash your face and get ready? From all the time I’ve spent with you, I know you won’t be able to fall back asleep, anyways. Heck, we can even go to that shelter you rambled about yesterday.” He suggests.

The Tony Stark is absolutely, 100%, not even in the slightest bit jealous of some dogs at a shelter, nope.

He simply feels a small pang of irritation, at the way they seem to cheer the teen up quicker. Something everyone, at the Tower, has been struggling to do for three fucking months.

However, it was worth seeing the smile he adored receiving. It felt great.

‘God, I’m getting way too sentimental..’ He thinks bitterly.

Steve decides to assist Peter with getting ready, while Tony takes a step outside the room.

Pepper had worked hard to get the donations ready, and he was looking for an opportunity to go to the place, as soon as possible.

He goes ahead to fetch the documents and cheque, as the super soldier wheels Peter to his bathroom sink.

———————

“This’ the place?” Rogers curiously asks.

Peter knows Steve is a dog person.

He’s seen the man’s eyes soften, at the sight of them. He was studying a missing dog poster on one of the damaged polls, after an attempted alien invasion. Face covered in dust, shield dirty and lips twitching into a frown at the poster.

Perhaps, that is why his Brooklyn accent is suddenly present. He has a firm, yet steady grip on the handles, as he pulls the teen inside.

Stark is close behind, practically besides the super soldier, as his nose scrunches up from the canine odour. His tainted glasses shift, as the bell chimes to announce their entrance.

Similar to yesterday, the same woman, Rachel walks out from the penthouse to greet them. She immediately recognizes the brunette, her features softening, as she offers a small wave to him.

Though, as she finally notices the other two very well-known and very poorly disguised figures, her eyes widen comically. Her mouth moves like a fish on land, as she stands shocked, in place.

She isn’t dreaming, right? This isn’t some weird dream?

Quickly, she blinks away the astonishment, before pulling her attention back to Peter to calm her nerves.

“U-Uh— Good afternoon, Mr. Stark and— Mr. Rogers—“ She greets last second, earning an awkward “Good afternoon.” from Steve and a small wave and bright grin from the billionaire.

Her stiff demeanour quickly melts away, as her eyes settle on a familiar teen in his wheelchair. She fumbles with the gate that keeps clients from barging into the reception.

“Welcome back, young man. Here to see Valentino?” She playfully guesses, earning a timid nod from him.

She nods back with reassurance, signalling the group to follow her into the same room from before.

No one questions the way Stark inspects the place, as though a stalker was hidden somewhere. His hands glued to the insides of his pockets, while the other man kneels down besides the Spider.

The kid has a warm blanket, a couple of the patterns are messed up, but it adds all the more sentiment into it. It was knitted and gifted from May, she made it when their heater would sometimes go out and Peter would shiver heavily, it went from his thighs, down to his calves.

He has calmed down, from the morning’s panic attack, though he still feels a slight disorientation.

Natasha had, silently, slid a mug of hot chocolate on the table, and Peter took small sips of it, with his breakfast.

He stayed in the living room with Clint and Bucky for two hours, as his shaking hands finally slowed. He watched both grown men play and bicker, though most of the time, his mind was elsewhere.

He hadn’t felt present, like he was just sitting outside of his body. Everything grew from blurry to white and his eyes glazed over, as he felt himself floating away.

He jumped, when a firm weight placed itself onto his shoulder, while calling out his name. From his peripheral view, he spotted a red hand that connected to the humanoid. Vision was checking up on him, once he noticed the Spider’s dissociation.

The door creaks open, and in comes a stunning and fierce-looking German Shepherd, who immediately runs to his new best friend.

He quickly closes his eyes, as a slick tongue runs across his face, making him smile, a small one, but nonetheless. He rubs the saliva off, with his sleeve, cupping the furry face with both hands.

They share a look, matching their slow blinks, as Peter breathes out the breath, he’d been unknowingly holding in.

Valentino is panting, his tail can basically be a fan with how fast it wags.

“Hey Valentino.” He whispers to him, giggling when the dog sniffs his face, tickling him.

He has a strong odour of a wet dog, yet Peter finds it to be quite comforting. His voice is still raspy from the morning incident, but the cheerfulness is ever so present in his tone.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys alo—“ Rachel starts, as her body twists towards the door.

“Actually” Stark begins. “I’d like to have a word?” He pulls off his glasses, before tilting his head.

“Oh- Uh, of course...!” Rachel agrees nervously, leading them both outside of the room.

Steve eyes them quickly, before he diverts his attention to the duo in front of him. He reaches a steady hand towards the furry friend, before freezing when Valentino eyes him warily, tail stuck in place.

His ears tuck back, and he watches Steve, as if Captain America was going to attack them. Half of his body is settled on the kid’s lap, as he stands on his hind legs, but his head is angled to the captain.

Peter notices the shift in his demeanour and pats Valentino’s head, while giving Steve a quick glance. The German Shepard seems to take it as a good sign, when the dog leans in and sniffs his hand, before nuzzling into it, making the older man smile.

Peter chuckles quietly, before wrapping his arms around the dog and embracing him in a hug like a stuffed animal.

He doesn’t comment on the way the Spider’s hands hold on tightly, as if his new friend would disappear the moment his grip loosened, or how he shakily breathes in.

He’s only there to accompany Peter, as they play around with Valentino.

At some point, Stark walks back into the room and Rachel isn’t there anymore. He eyes the beast, as it reciprocates the gesture and Peter glances at the billionaire as well.

Tony smiles at the kid, before he decides to sit on one of the plastic chairs in the corner of the room. Valentino decides to quietly whine to get the kid’s attention back and preens when the kid coos at him.

They all stay there for about two hours, before they decide to head back to the Tower. Peter doesn’t say anything, but he keeps looking back, as they walk on the sidewalk.

———————

It’s a new edition to the routine, but they don’t mind at all.

Every day after therapy, two people will bring Peter to the dog shelter to visit his furry friend. There isn’t really an order, as to who goes, but everyone gets their turn. Though, Bruce chooses to stay in the Tower.

Within this new period, they get thrilled when good changes happen. That they’re finally making progress and the surface finally has a crack on it.

It takes around two weeks, since the first encounter, for Peter to try to grab his own food.

He had kept on glaring at the food that was being placed on the table, as if it had kicked a kitten in front of him. No one questioned it, but they still wondered what was going on.

Then, thin hands unhurriedly made their way to the large bowl of macaroni in the middle, and Peter concentrated with everything he had to pick up a spoonful.

The first few days in this change, he always gives up halfway, when it keeps falling from his utensil. He huffs a small, frustrated sound, in the back of his throat and his hands flex, before curling into fists and someone else takes the lead.

Though, Stark ends up with a pile of bent forks and spoons, it’s all worth it, when on the tenth-day, Peter is able to pick up his meal from start to finish.

He’s slowly starting to add more food to his meals, which is a major reassurance. Since the accident, Peter has lost a lot of weight, and with gentle guidance and encouragement, he’s working his way back up the scale.

The team lights up, when he manages to finish his meal completely, and that sort of makes Peter want to try harder.

But he knows, from experience, that if he pushes himself, he’ll end up feeling sick and might possibly throw up. So, he’s careful to not go over his limits.

He doesn’t even realize the little feeling of satisfaction that shows up in his chest, when he looks down at his plate and it’s empty.

Another week goes by, when the kid picks up a brush from the table, where Steve is painting. Peter is looking at him with hesitancy, silently asking for permission and Rogers is already up on his feet and grabbing a sheet of paper with a cup of water and some paint.

Peter sits there, brush in hand, as the paint drips onto the paper. Steve pretends to not be paying any attention, but he worriedly stops his own art, when ten minutes passes by.

He bites his cheek, unsure of what to say.

“Don’t know what to paint, Peter?”

Brown eyes dart towards blue hues, before he idly shakes his head. His mouth opens and closes a few times, before he swallows down a lump.

“… Doesn’t.. feel right.” He mutters out, dejected.

The older man blinks, before he sets his supplies down, and leans towards the kid’s side. He stares at the paper that has random drops of blue paint, before he pushes the tray of paint closer.

“Have you tried using your hands as a brush?”

The kid shakes his head again and looks down at his scarred fingers. Steve offers him a tight smile.  

“You can try that. There aren’t any rules when it comes to art, you do what feels right to you.”

He squeezes the Spider’s shoulder, before he settles back to his spot and continues on his painting. It takes another ten minutes, before thin fingers dip themselves in colour and leave a colourful trail behind.

When Natasha walks in, she smiles at the painting of a dog and praises the Spider for his work.

Peter doesn’t keep it; he simply heads off to wash his hands and clean up but refuses to take it. So, Steve decides to put it inside of his sketchbook, and continues to keep the ones Peter makes from time to time.

He doesn’t paint often. Very rarely, because he doesn’t know how to do it, or how he’s supposed to feel.  

The week after, the kid is with Danny, Matt, Karen and Foggy in a park that is known for its blooming flowers. Luke and Jessica are occupied with a mission but made sure to say their greetings to the kid, before leaving.

They take their time appreciating each flower bed and Foggy makes sure to describe each and every flower they come across, with great detail, much to Matt’s bemusement.

Peter’s eyes remain hollow for most of the time, but his muscles are relaxed, and his gaze is fixed onto the colourful scenery.

Personally, he isn’t that knowledgeable about plants, he likes them, but not enough to truly study them. Sure, he knows a few random facts, from Mj’s rapid-fire questions, during Decathlon, but that’s about as far as it goes.

At one point, Peter’s eyes glaze and his shoulders are taut, as they walk past a field of violets. The first flowers Ben had gifted to May—

Matt quickly clears his throat, complaining about how he’s getting nauseous from the potent floral smell and suggests taking a break. He subtly inches closer to the Spider and presents a strained smile.

Danny catches on quickly, and slaps his hands over his mouth, before he can dumbly shout “Oh.” Then, he’s profusely nodding like a bobble head.

He snakes an arm around Foggy’s shoulder and whines about his legs being sore from all the walking.

Foggy stares at him like he’s grown three heads, and they continue walking, for a little bit. Karen’s eyes shift from one man to another, before she understands.

They find a duck pond and decide to take a break from their little adventure. It’s a large lake and in the middle, there’s a mechanism that shoots water up like a fountain. Parents are chatting, as kids run around, screaming and laughing.

Peter watches as little ducklings follow a mother duck and doesn’t realize, until Matt is standing up and is at his side, that tears are welling up in his eyes.

“Peter?” Matt calls out, so quietly.

It’s difficult to hear it over his loud thoughts, and he blinks owlishly, letting a stray tear fall.

It’s so foreign, to unknowingly begin to tear up. He’s been keeping track of every little emotion that escapes from his cage and now, everything is crumbling.

He flinches when eyes are on him, they’ve moved to an area where they are less likely to be spotted and Matt decided to take this opportunity to remove his glasses. Vacant, knowing eyes convey the message.

He’s shared the story of his father, Jack Murdock. A man who kept getting back up, no matter the strength of the blow he received. He could take a punch.

But then, one night, he couldn’t.

And though, Matt wasn’t there, wouldn’t even have been able to see it, he heard it. And for years, the deafening sound of a bullet echoed in his head, along with the loud world.

Even now, sometimes, on bad nights, he’ll have a few bottles, hoping they’ll drown out the noises.

Peter feels it, the moment the ribbons come undone.

He cries for about half an hour, everyone around him isn’t sure what to do, but they stay there until the kid grips onto the blanket on his legs like a lifeline.

“I miss her…” Is all that comes out, broken and desperate. Small and juvenile.

Matt hugs him awkwardly, as best as he can with the wheelchair and everything and Peter instinctively freezes.

The older man is warm, his weight is grounding and comforting. He’s hunched down, so that one hand softly fiddles with Peter’s hair, while the other caresses his back.

He doesn’t know what to do with this. He allows his senses to catch up.

Then, he latches onto him, sticky hands gripping onto his white dress-shirt, wrinkling it. He cries some more, until eventually, sobs turn into sniffles.

When they ask him what he wants to do, minding their tone, Peter simply requests that they continue watching the flowers. Foggy and Karen quickly make a stop at a hot dog stand, before they decide to continue their stroll.

For the sake of not potentially raising any suspicions, Matt refrains from pushing the wheelchair, but remains besides the teen.

As they talk to lighten the mood, Danny notes that the kid’s eyes look a little less hollow this time.

.

.

.

Peter sat on the hospital bed, glaring at anything and everything his eyes locked onto.

He was especially cold towards the hesitant therapist, a middle-aged man with three bald spots and thick glasses. Peter could tell that Mr. Bell was trying his damn best to form a bond with the teen, but he wanted none of it.

This was the eighth fucking bastard who decided to barge in, when Peter never asked for their fucking help.

Every question got on his nerves and before he knew it, the man was trembling with fear when he found himself webbed to the wall.

He tuned out the older man’s pathetic little yelps and FRIDAY’s mechanical voice, as his mind spiralled.

Something deep inside of him was terrified at himself, because he was never like this. He never found any satisfaction in webbing innocent people who were just trying to do their job.

He never had the urge to beat people up, before. He was a passive hero, avoided violence as much as possible, always held back, never killed.

But then, there were many, many times where his mind went somewhere twisted.

A lot of what ifs? A lot of daydreaming. What if he did use a bit of violence? Just a little punch, or kick, nothing extreme.

However, that was the start, little and curious. Yet, it always ended with: What if he stopped pulling his punches? What if he just kept going at it? He was given enhanced strength, he could lift a whole fucking building!

So, what if he used that same strength on bad, bad, bad people? Like the fucker who crashed into them? Who killed May. Who ran away. Who coward in fear and tried to defend his actions?

What if he used that strength to bend the bastard’s legs wrongly? Make him unable to use them, just like how Peter was now?

It’d be so, so easy to snap each finger. Snap. Snap. Snap.

What if he curled his hand around the fucker’s throat? And squeezed, squeezed until he could feel his windpipe closing in, squeezed until he was turning blue, squeezed until—

That was around the time he forcibly pulled himself back from the dark tunnel.

Because this wasn’t right. That man was already behind bars, with the highest sentence he could receive, thanks to some really great lawyers. Foggy promised him and Matt made sure of it.

So why did these thoughts keep taunting him?

He felt utterly lost. Like he wasn’t certain who he was anymore.

Because this wasn’t Spider-Man. Spider-Man would never pull such a stunt, Spider-Man helped others, and Peter Parker was a good kid who listened and acted respectfully. He was a socially awkward kid that was bright and kind.

And what he was doing, how he was acting didn’t fit either identity.

So, who was he?

May wouldn’t want him to behave like this. May—

“Peter?” A voice called out and suddenly, his rage came back with great vengeance.

His head shot up, vision red and body shaking from anger. He didn’t care who was on the receiving end, because whoever they were, they fucking deserved it.

He almost flinched, when the hurt in Steve Rogers’ eyes satisfied a dark desire inside his stomach.

Who was he? This wasn’t Peter Parker, nor Spider-Man.

He hadn’t relented on his hateful glare, until Steve begrudgingly left him alone, when Peter made it very clear that he didn’t want any comfort.

Instead, he was panting, as if he had just run a marathon, as the rage kept piling up and up and up—

And glass breaking echoed inside the room.

He looked at the broken vase on the other side of the room, where water dripped out and broken shards were spread across the floor.

The wall was damaged from where strong hands had thrown the vase, and Peter stared at the withering flowers on the floor, the strayed petals that were shrinking, for a really long time.

At least, it felt like a really long time. He was just breathing loudly, while staring with so many thoughts in his head, they were all so quick he couldn’t catch a single one.

Maybe this was when it had finally clicked for him.

When he just didn’t feel anything at all.

No anger, no sadness, no fear, nothing. He just felt empty and missing. It was weird, but oddly peaceful. His chest didn’t hurt as much anymore, and his mind tingled in a way that he hadn’t minded.

It was really bizarre, and Peter wondered if this was simply psychological, or could he feel things physically?

And with his mind so, so clouded by… something, he reached out for a binder clip that locked some papers on the bed frame, letting the document slip onto the floor. He ripped apart the spring steel and…

Well, things mostly got blurry from there.

He merely remembered seeing a lot of red. Crimson red on his arm, as it dripped and dripped and yeah. He could feel a slight sting, before it dulled.

Causing himself an injury hadn’t made him feel anything, though. No satisfaction, or relief, or fear. He was just there, with a healing cut.

His nose began bleeding abruptly, though after some thinking, he did feel dizzy. The door to the medbay slammed opened and people came rushing in, voices kept calling out to him, but his mind tuned it all out.

In fact, he wasn’t quite sure if he was even there for the rest of the week. He mostly thought of memories he and May once had and May playfully scolding him and May being there for him when he broke down.

He thought about May a lot, but he didn’t really feel any hurt or grief.

He didn’t feel anything.

.

.

.

“I… I wanna see… M-May.” Peter whispers, once they reach the fourth month.

Everyone stops moving, and all eyes are on the Spider, as he stares onto his lap. No one moves, until a few seconds passed by, and Bruce speaks up from his seat.

“Are you sure?” No judgement in his tone, allowing Peter to decide.

The kid doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t deny it either.

“You think you’re ready?” Sam speaks up, finger tapping on the table.

Peter looks up then, eyes owlishly wide and watery. His hand tightens around his spoon, as he sits up straighter. His mouth feels dry like a desert.

“I… I don’t think I ever will be.” He answers, honestly, before looking back down.

———————

A few days after the talk, he’s being accompanied by Bucky and Clint, with Valentino walking besides him, head swivelling in every direction. 

After some talking with Rachel, they managed to get the ‘ok’ from her to bring Valentino out for a day. In fact, it hadn’t taken much to coax her into accepting, she was already aware of their bond.

The hand with Valentino’s black leash is pale and Peter’s chest is threatening to burst open with how much his heart is beating.

The closer they’re getting, the more it’s getting harder to breathe. Everything is spinning and he doesn’t know what to do. He feels helpless and his chest starts burning and—

A wet snout presses against his hand, and a whine rings in his ear, as he looks down and notices the German Shepard on his lap. Valentino looks at him, head slightly tilted and breathing gradually becomes a little more bearable.

When he looks back up, he slightly jolts, when he realizes they’re at the cemetery and instinctively holds his breath. His chest feels heavy, and weights are pressing down on his shoulders, as they walk towards a well-kept tombstone.

“We’ll let you have your time kid. Remember; no rush and take all the time you need with May.” A voice speaks up, he isn’t sure who’s it is.

Footsteps fade away, leaving him and Valentino in front of May Parker’s grave.

He isn’t sure how much time passes, but for a while, he just stares blankly at it.

When he thinks about it, he’s been absentmindedly staring a lot, these passing months. It isn’t a conscious thing either, he never realizes it, until something or someone grounds him and he finds himself back in reality.

The hard, cold reality.

He rereads the name over and over and over again; Valentino sniffs around, a little curious, but otherwise, he remains on Peter’s legs and his other hand buries itself into the fur.

He barely blinks, as he shivers under the cool breeze. Valentino tucks his snout inside the gap between the Spider’s leg and the wheelchair, he lets out a small whine, as Peter loosens his hold on the leash.

He thinks about the first day May and Ben took him in.

They hadn’t planned on having any kids of their own, they thought that having each other was enough of a family for them. Then, with little time to think, they found a young Peter Parker in their arms who was in need of guardians.

Like the saints they were, they took him in with no hesitation and loved him like he was theirs, since the start. Never once did Peter feel unloved, and he was happy to be with them.

Sometimes, they were tight on money, since Ben and May hadn’t exactly expected to house a third member. They had enough for themselves only, but never did they once blame Peter for it.

They worked hard to give him a good life and gave him the best childhood he could ever ask of them.

They always made Peter feel valued, May always bought a special treat whenever Peter got his report card with the best grades in his class.

Ben had bragged about it to everyone and anyone he met, and just about anybody knew that Ben Parker and May Parker’s nephew was the smartest boy in the whole neighbourhood.

When Ben passed, they were both broken and battered, but May worked even harder to provide for the both of them. She did her best to care for him, to thrive on and be the best parent she could be for him.

She didn’t want him to work, since she wanted him to focus on school and to enjoy his student life, while he was still living in it. She always told him not to worry about the money, even when they both knew that they’d have to scrape by again.

But Peter was fine with that.

She was the one who continued to love him and accepted him for who he was. She was the one who made Peter happy. He loved her so dearly, and no one could replace his Aunt May.

He’d do anything to have her here with him. To hear her voice again.

He’s terrified that one day, he’ll forget the sound of her voice. That he might not remember what she looked like, and he dreads it.

Something warm hits his hand, and before he knows it, there’s loud screaming and sobbing coming from somewhere, from him, as his walls begin crumbling apart.

All of his pent-up emotions fall like waves, and he can’t stop. Because now, he can’t deny the truth anymore, he can’t allow himself to live in a blissful lie.

Today, four months after the accident, May Parker died.

He finally has to sink into the wave, as his mind finally accepts that he’ll never see May Parker again. She’s dead and buried, in this cemetery, in a coffin, underground, under this gravestone, away with Ben, away from him.

He makes an ugly sound in the back of his throat. It feels like someone is stabbing him continuously, never ending and the pain only increases.

The scars around his limbs burn, as if they are fresh and searing. The knife plunges right into his heart, where it bleeds and bleeds and it never stops hurting.

Because four months ago, May Parker died.

Maybe that’s why he had been able to shut down all of his emotions. Because Peter Parker drowned himself in delusions, that if he kept on waiting like a good boy, one day, May would poke him awake for breakfast.

Warm tears continuously slip from his face, as he mumbles out choked slurs of apologies.

Valentino is barking and nudging him, when Peter leans his body forward and falls on the ground and onto his knees. His wheelchair falls on its side.

As expected, he doesn’t feel anything in his legs, and it’s another reminder of his failure.

His failure to save May—

“You know, it isn’t actually your fault. None of it is, not a single part of it.” A faint voice that sounded like Sam explained, as he thought of May giggling minutes before the accident.

There’s a sigh that echoed throughout the room and a chair scrapped against the floor, as Sam approached him, while still keeping a safe distance. He rested his elbows against his knees.

“You’re blaming yourself for it all, thinking that you could’ve done something to change the outcome. If you had reacted quicker, if you had pulled her out before… That’s what your mind is telling you, right?”

The twitch in Peter’s fingers were more than enough.

“You’re telling yourself this, because you want to believe that all this happened because of a decision you made. But the truth is Peter, nothing would’ve changed, because this situation was out of your control.”

Despite only blinking on the outside, Peter felt his head spinning, as his throat was now burning.

“But you don’t want to admit that, because if you lost control of a situation, then that means you weren’t strong enough. And no one wants to see themselves as weak.”

Idle fingers hover just above his web-shooters, tempting to end the session.

“You can’t bring yourself to admit all of these truths, and it’s normal, but that doesn’t make it a good thing. You’re locking yourself up in your own mind, just to run away from the pain. But you’re only making it worst, because one day you will have to face the truth and it ain’t going to be pretty.”

He grips the grass below him, immediately ripping it, as his palms get stained with dirt. He cries and sobs and weeps for what feels like eternity.

Life couldn’t even indulge him for a little longer, it just had to rip him away from his last relative.

Because taking his parents away wasn’t enough. Taking Ben wasn’t enough, either. May had to go too, now?

His forehead presses against the ground, caged between his hands, as he cries out loud for May to hear.

He apologizes and begs for her to come back.

That he’ll be good, he’ll listen to whatever she says, he’ll never do anything stupid again. Anything—

Valentino attempts to lick his face, agitatedly pacing around the grieving Spider, before deciding to lay next to him. His ears tuck behind and he whines, as the kid punches the ground below, further dirtying his hands.

A few hours past, Peter goes quiet, and he slowly raises his head, staring at the tombstone with red, watery and pained eyes. He grits his teeth, finally releasing the grass from his sticky fingers and he closes his eyes hard enough to see spots.

“I love y-you, May. I love you so, so, so much.” And he repeats it, because it’s all he can do now.

By the next hour, Clint and Bucky are running to his side, muttering out quiet curses, as they pick up a limp and exhausted kid and set him back onto his wheelchair.

Valentino licks his hand, as the kid’s glazed eyes stare into the void.

They spare him of having to face the team in the state he’s currently in, instead, they wheel him to his room. Valentino is tense, unused to the new environment and sticks even closer to the Spider.

His eyes are trained on the cloth that wipes the grime and dirt away, as Clint stays quiet. Bucky leaves the room to inform everyone else, or more like, telling Steve for him to tell the rest of the team.

As the archer rinses the rag, clearness gone with the brown muck, Peter seems to fall back into his mind. He looks around the room, before watching Valentino, who’s laying on the carpet besides him, head resting on his paws.

“… Thanks.” He croaks out.

“Don’t thank me, kid. You gave me and Buck quite a scare, wasn’t sure how long we should’ve let you be, but saw how the sky was getting cloudy and decided to pick you up, before it started raining.”

“… I’m… Sorry.”

Barton huffs, eyes glancing to the kid. “Just because I said not to thank me, doesn’t mean you have to apologize. Just didn’t expect you to fall off your wheelchair. We thought you might’ve hurt yourself.”

Peter shakes his head, picking at dry patches of skin around his fingers.

“I still don’t really feel anything in my legs… I guess— I guess I just wanted to be as close to her as I could be.”

Barton closes the sink and kneels down, wiping the other hand. Peter’s cheeks flush, feeling slightly embarrassed, but doesn’t complain.

The rag is soft on his skin, not like the scratching ones that May bought to clean the kitchen. The water is warm, a blessing to Peter’s freezing hands.

“Hm, I get that.” He hesitates, gesture stuttering, before he inhales. “Was like that too, when my mom was taken away from me.”

Peter freezes.

“… Oh. Sorry to hear that…”

Clint smiles softly, before shaking his head.

“It was bound to happen. She ran away with me to get away from my old man, when she found out that he…”

He pauses and decides to leave it unfinished; Peter understands not to push it. He can paint his own picture, without needing the words for it. Instead, he waits for Clint to take a deep breath and continue.

“We were thieves trying to scrape by in life, stole whenever we could… We had nothing left, but each other, after all.”

He gets up, wincing when he hears a pop from his leg. Valentino’s head jerks up to nudge his snout against the kid’s shin.

“Had a talent for marksmanship, ever since I was little. You know, Hawkeye—“

“—never misses, yeah.” Peter shows a small smile, and Clint counts it as a small victory in his book.

He nods, smile widening into a grin, before he turns the sink back on.

“Living on the streets was rough, and my mom encouraged me to steal. I knew it was bad, but hey, we had to find a way to live. Got worried we’d get caught, but she always reassured me that she’d protect me no matter what.”

“May told me that too.” Peter mutters, his eyes look sad, but not hollow.

It’s… ah. Reassuring?

“Talked about our dream house and promised me that we wouldn’t have to sleep in a car, ever again. Next morning, my mission was to distract a clerk at the gas station, while mom takes the money.”

He grabs a different rag, rinses it and uses it to gently swipe the kid’s swollen eyes. They’re puffy, red and dry, and the warmth seems to ease the stinging.

“She got caught, tried to pull a rifle on him, but dropped it. I saw it. Saw it on the ground and rushed to pick it up. Without a second thought, I pointed it at the clerk. Mom was telling me to shoot him.”

“Did you?”

Maybe for a little dramatic effect, he lets the pause draw out for a little more than necessary.

“No, I ended up shooting the window and the cops came and took her away. Last time I ever saw her, she didn’t show any resentment or anger, she just… smiled. I apologized for missing, but she told me I hadn’t.”

He pats his hands on a towel, drying them, before he clings onto the handles and pulls the both of them out of the bathroom. Valentino gets up and follows close behind. He pulls the drawers open, and the Spider grabs a new set of clothes to change out of his stained ones.

Clint turns around, staring at the door, as Peter gets dressed. Clothes shuffle around and as he pulls his shirt off, he pauses to stare at the archer.

“What happened after? If… You don’t mind, that is…”

He shivers at the breeze and covers a fresh white t-shirt with a light pink hoodie, there’s a large star in the middle of it. Like the ones in cartoons.

“Was on my own now, I didn’t know what to do. I felt lost and just kept stealing to get by, but it always left a terrible feeling in my chest. Then, a few months later, I joined a circus.”

“A circus?” The kid asks, dumbfounded, as he pulls a pair of black sweatpants.

“Yep. And that’s a whole other fiasco, if you know what I mean.” He taps on his hearing aids and Peter physically pales at that.

“That’s… I’m sorry you had to endure so much..”

Peter looks down, and Clint just smiles, before he walks over and ruffles his hair.

“Nah, the cause of my disability was gradual, it wasn’t entirely because of the circus. Besides, we’ve all been through some tough times.”

“Still… How… How did you get through it all?”

Silence.

“Honestly, sometimes, I ask myself the same thing.” He whispers, before he pets Valentino and leads them to the common room for dinner.

“Thanks for sharing all of this with me…” Peter mumbles, when they enter the elevator.

Clint doesn’t say anything, settling for a subtle nod, before they reach the dining table. He sits next to him, while Valentino wedges his head between the two, eyes peeking upwards for any potential scraps.

Tony visibly cringes, but otherwise, doesn’t say anything and even relaxes later into the evening, when Peter laughs at the sight of the German Shepard with crumbs around its face.

———————

It’s another new adjustment to their routine, but it creates another positive effect for the kid. It’s mostly to test out the waters, but Peter isn’t necessarily aware of that.

A couple times a week, Valentino will spend the night and day with Peter, basking in his presence. Rachel seems to be pleased and notes that the furry animal himself is happier these days.

But it’s gone to the point where Stark has bought every necessity a dog could need and the kid smiles with gratitude at that.

It’s a major blessing that Valentino is well-behaved, otherwise Tony Stark would be having a heart attack.

He lays down next to the kid, during his and Sam’s sessions, he’ll watch attentively as Bruce checks up on the Spider and he looks intrigued at whatever activity Peter is up to.

He eats whatever scraps Peter offers him and accompanies him on strolls around the park. On really good days, they’ll stay and play fetch at the park.

When Peter gets settled in bed, Valentino will hop on and plop his weight on the kid.

The dog dozes off, as Tony continues their late-night talks and Peter listens, while he also focuses on the added weight on his stomach.

Eventually, about three weeks later, Valentino doesn’t even go back to the shelter anymore. Peter doesn’t really question it, but he definitely notices and silently wonders what’s happening.

It isn’t until another week passes by, that he musters up the courage to ask Natasha about it, while they, along with Steve sit around the kitchen table.

“Stark didn’t tell you?” She raises a brow, as she takes a sip of her hot cocoa.

Peter shakes his head, looking down at his friend, who tilts his head in response. He hears her click her tongue, while the adults share a look.

“Dog’s yours. Well, technically he’s under Tony’s name, but that’s beside the point.”

Peter blinks.

“… Oh.” Is all he can mutter out, before five minutes of silence pass.

He bites the inside of his cheek, feeling a small spark in his chest. “… Since… When..?”

“A week or two ago. He wanted to make sure that you and Valentino would work, before doing anything and when it seemed to go well, he officially signed the papers and all.”

Peter doesn’t say much after that, he mostly blanks out for the rest of the day.

———————

Things seem to be looking better, they’re finally improving and moving forward. They’re making progress, slow but progress, nonetheless.

Peter isn’t the same, as he was back then, but he’s still the Peter Parker they care for. Always will be.

Of course, though, with progress, sometimes setbacks are inevitable.

There are days where Peter is somewhere else, far away from where his body is. A place where no one else seems to be able to reach.

Sometimes, he’ll lock himself in his room with his dog for the majority of the day. He’ll revert back to eating a single meal for a day, despite needing more to compensate for his quick metabolism.

Other times, he’ll stare blankly at the walls in the common room, oblivious to the looks of concern. He doesn’t even process half of the words being said to him.

On those days, even Valentino can’t do much, besides stand near the kid and whine for some pets and scratches.

It causes a lot of anxiety to spike within the team, worried that they’ve retreated back to square one and all of the work they’ve succeeded have crumbled into a pile of fruitless effort.

In the past, Peter Parker was the equivalent of an open book. He was expressive with his features and was a terrible liar. Always spoke what was on his mind, even when it had nothing to do with the context, they were in.

The kid’s mind was never quiet, always thinking about anything and everything. He was a scarily smart kiddo for his age, could rival Tony Stark with his intelligence and Stark, himself, took pride in that. Everyone did.

They could always tell what emotions the kid was feeling, rather it was from little gestures, or his face. His thoughts were often voiced out loud, so they didn’t really need to dwell on that.

But now, he doesn’t show that side of him, anymore.

The Spider looks like he’s buried in a mountain of thoughts, and the team doesn’t have a single clue about what they consist of.

One second it looks like things are turning out for the better, and then in a blink of an eye, he’s right back into a hole, far from reach, again.

It gives them whiplash, and it’s like a mockery for them. Not being able to do much for their Spider.

One of the worst setbacks he’s had, was about a week ago.

It was around two in the morning, when Bucky had woken up from a nightmare, with a strangled gasp. Mental images flashed in his mind, and he pulled himself up, before he could stop himself.

He leaned against the walls, panting and wiping off the thin layer of sweat on his forehead. His heart was still pacing, and he was in no state to go back to bed. So, he opted to go down to let off some steam, hopefully tire himself out.

He took the elevator and made his way to the kitchen first, deciding to grab a bottle of water to cool down his insides. Perhaps, he could stomach a snack.

What he hadn’t expected, nor been prepared for, was a dark silhouette insistently barking up a storm. Immediately, the older man was tense, storming his way to find the cause of the commotion.

God, the image he saw would forever haunt his mind for the next couple of years.

The kid was there, his back faced towards him, with the lights turned off. Only the light from the moon illuminated the space, and Valentino was barking, facing the kid.

“Pete?” He drawled out, feeling for the light switch.

Once the lights were on, the German Shepard stared at the older man, something in those eyes left an unsettling feeling. When he’d gotten closer, he could hear ragged breaths, and the smell of tea leaves intruded his nose.

Christ, when he leaned over, he had to take a second to process the whole thing.

Peter was staring down at his hands, his burnt hands. They were red, shaking, and soaked in tea with shards of ceramic, blood drooling out of the cuts. The rest of the mess was on the floor in front of him, a puddle at his feet.

He walked in front, and kneeled down, while avoiding the mess. What really bothered him, was the look in his eyes.

Wide, dark brown eyes that used to belong to a nervous, silly and kind kid. Now, there was a duality of vacancy and haunted, and they reminded him so much of his days with HYDRA.

“Why doesn’t it hurt as much? Why can’t I feel it?” The Spider muttered under his breath, over and over again.

He kept flexing his hands, as if fascinated with the way his hands looked, how the shards sunk deep into his skin.

Bucky had gently squeezed the kid’s arm, trying to call out to him. He hadn’t anticipated for it to cause such a strong reaction, Peter had slapped his hand away, with a look of hostility, before it was quickly replaced with sorrow and regret.

Valentino howled, before circling the duo, keeping a sharp eye on the kid, his tail was down and his ears tucked.

“I’m sorry.” He cried out, defeatedly.

Not knowing what to do, he ordered FRIDAY to call for some backup, while making sure the kid didn’t hurt himself anymore.

When the whole fiasco was over, with Sam plucking the shards and bandaging the injuries, Bucky had stayed in Steve’s room for the rest of the time he had left to sleep.

When the other had asked him what was wrong, Bucky could only cradle his legs and whisper out brokenly.

“He had that look in his eyes.”

That’s an example of an extreme case, which luckily didn’t really happen aside from that time.

Sam manages to ask about it, when Peter is absentmindedly scratching Valentino’s ear. His head heavily leaning against his palm.

His hand freezes and he seems to contemplate about wether or not he should answer.

“… I just… know it’s not going to be a good day.”

Sam squeezes his pen, before clearing his throat. The kid resumes on petting Valentino, though still visibly tense.

“Any particular reason?”

If Sam were to describe the feeling he is currently going through, it’d be something like stepping into a new place. Like he’s now crossed the entry and finds himself in a new domain.

A shiver runs down his spine, but he swallows and allows the ink at the end of his pen to seep through his notepad.

“Sometimes. Sometimes, something ends up triggering me. And before I can do anything, everything fogs up.” He says it with a detached tone, but Sam can see the fire behind the kid’s eyes.

“But most of the time… I just know it. Some days, it’s bearable, I feel like I can move, but other times… it’s as if I’m getting tied down and I’m sinking again and the voices won’t shut up, they just keep taunting me and my mind gets all mixed up and—“

Valentino’s bark jolts him out of his spiral and Peter notices that the armrest of the chair is dented, a clear handprint on it.

He’s sweating and panting, he’s just now realizing that he needs air, and Sam has moved his chair a little closer, his hand hovering over Peter’s.

His cheeks flush a light red, feeling slightly ashamed. He keeps his head down.

“Do you want to tell me what the voices tell you?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

He mostly zones out the rest of the rendezvous, after that.