Chapter Text
Steve sent Peter a warm smile in response to the caress and then turned his attention back to the road.
“Do you want to get some ice cream?” he asked, driven by a sudden impulse with a little too much hope in his voice for Peter to outright dismiss the suggestion. Something ugly and full of spikes twirled inside his stomach but he still nodded, desperate to make this beautiful moment last longer.
The pastry shop they stopped at was warm and had a welcoming aura flowing around it. Peter felt a bit out of place, especially when remembering the cafe he and Dr. Xavier were in not so long ago. It wasn't a horrible experience, not by far, okay maybe the end got a little bit out of hand and he managed to embarrass himself (but, hey whats new?). Despite his worst expectations, all together he felt surprisingly comfortable and understood with Charles. Even safe, which was such a new and welcomed feeling. For once Peter tasted a bite out of what it felt like to finally believe that there might still be hope out there for him.
“What flavor would you like, darling?” Steve asked, brows furrowed as he catched Peter fidgeting with his fingers for not the first time today while staring at the ice cream stand, assessing the variety and anxiously glancing at the panel stating the calories before forcibly averting his gaze away from it.
Steve's question pulled him out of the sea of anxious thoughts and put a stop to that particular corner of mental hell called overthinking.
“Umm, lemon.” “If that's okay,” he couldn't help but add, voice small, barely loud enough for Steve to catch. His dad heard him though, and gave in both of their orders.
As they waited for their ice cream to arrive, they decided to sit down outside, letting the last tingling rays of sunshine warm their skin.
“Pete, I know that I haven been the best at the whole communication aspect of our relationship lately. And I just, I just want you to know that I want to understand. Everything you tell me. I want to know it all,” Steve said, slowly, like he was savoring every single word.
“It would take hours to explain,” Peter answered, his voice playful, feeling too drained to take Steve's request seriously after he poured his heart out to Charles already.
“I would listen to you for hours,” Steve simply said, his blue eyes filling with tears and lighting up like fireworks on the fourth of july.
And oh, Peter couldn't do this. This was too much love to carry.
Peter felt his throat tighten as he took his ice cream from the waiter. Steve didn't deserve this. He shouldn't have to feel worried, guilty. It wasn't fair. How could Peter tell him how sorry he was for everything?
"I appreciate all you've done for me. So much," Peter said instead, taking a bite out of his ice cream cone, coming off distant somehow despite meaning every word. "And I wanted to tell you how happy I am for you and Bucky."
"I am! I really am." he assured with a small but proud smile, seeing Steve's disbelieving frown. "I only wish he would have never felt the need to leave in the first place…" Peter looked away, unable to see Steve's face break.
"It wasn't -"
"I know dad," Peter said with the smile dancing on his lips turning a shade sadder. "I know.”
—
Peter knew that recovery is not linear but what he didn’t expect was standing in his dads’ bedroom doorstep with his fist frozen in air, ready to knock but still gathering the courage to actually do it.
A month had passed, he's been going to therapy, he was seeing Ned and MJ more, he was making an effort. He really, really was.
And yet. It didn't seem to be enough. Peter never was.
“Dad?" Peter whispered, a shiver washing over his entire body, finally deciding to crack the door open.
He was cold. So so cold.
"Pete?" came the immediate answer, his dad's voice gruff and stiff from sleep. "What's wrong sweetheart?" Tony mumbled, pulling his hand up to rub his eyes.
Steve sat up in the bed and turned on the bedlight.
“Come here baby,” Steve cooed, moving a bit towards the side of the bed so Peter could have space to lay down between him and Tony.
Peter cocooned himself between the two of them with a relieved sigh, though he was still trembling, his body occasionally jerking violently. Steve wrapped his arms around him, and squeezed tightly, trying to give his boy as much warmth as possible.
Bucky was curled up next to Tony on the right side of the bed, seemingly still fast asleep.
"Are you cold baby?" Tony asked in a hushed tone, while leaning over Bucky to grab an extra blanket up from the ground and wrapping it around Peter’s shivering form.
"Y-yeah," Peter managed to let out. "I don't know w- what's wrong with me," he squeezed out teeth clattering.
"It's okay. We're here," Steve murmured reassuringly as he started to rub Peter's back.
“It's not o- okay. Nothing is.” Peter whispered voice breaking. This was probably the most open and vulnerable he's ever been with Steve and Tony. It felt incredibly good and terrifying at the same time.
Some shifting and a loud yawn later Bucky's head popped up above Tony. The man took in the scene, brows furrowing.
“I'll ... go to my room, give you guys some space,” Bucky ended up saying. “Pete, I'm here for you if you need me,” he added gently.
“Please stay,” Peter breathed, voice pleading, as he catched Bucky's hand in his.
“Okay,” Bucky murmured as he sat back down on the bed and started rubbing soothing circles into Peter's outstretched arm.
“What's going on Pete?” Tony asked. “Do you feel like you have a fever?” he added, grazing Peter’s forehead, checking his temperature.
“No, I- don't think so. I'm just cold. I’m so cold all the time.”
Steve pulled Peter in even closer to his chest. “I got you buddy.”
“You're safe here, you know that.” Bucky's voice was soothing but held some seriousness, firmness in it. “We won't let anyone hurt you. Ever.”
Peter wanted to believe him but knew that he couldn't. They couldn't protect him forever. The world was too big. Too scary. Too ugly. Living was too painful.
“How about this? We can all go to the living room and get comfortable on the couch. I'll make us all some hot chocolate or tea and we'll just watch a movie?” Tony suggested eyes roaming Peter’s body and landing on his kid’s worryingly pale face.
Peter nodded but didn't move his body otherwise. He was as scared to move, as he was scared to breathe. He didn't want Steve to pull away. He didn't want the darkness to get back to him and swallow him whole again.
“I'll set up the movie,” Bucky decided, and rose from the bed, followed by Tony who gave Peter a final kiss on the forehead.
“We'll join you guys in a minute,” Steve murmured.
Peter went lax in his dad’s arms once it was just the two of them in the bedroom.
“Oh darling,” Steve sighed. “It's okay, let it out.”
And Peter did. He let his face contort in pain, doing something ugly and raw, and he let the tears flow, free without a dam made of stone cold as ice holding them back.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Steve tried once Peter’s hiccups quieted and became few in between.
Peter has somewhat regained his composure but as he opened his mouth to answer Steve, he felt an invisible hand tighten around his throat again and another wave of sickening sobs washed over him. Steve led him through it, whispering reassurance and keeping Peter’s mind afloat with his deep voice reverberating through him, it becoming Peter’s one and only lifeline in that moment.
“I can't-” “I can't do it dad,” Peter choked out between two sobs.
“What do you mean?” Steve asked frowning, pulling the slightest bit away so he could glance down at Peter's tear stained face. He took Peter's face into his hands, caressing his cheeks, catching a few tear drops with his thumb.
“I'm so tired daddy. I’m so- so tired all the time.” Peter felt his voice begin to break again but made himself pull it together. It was like once the dam broke it became almost impossible to hold back the sobs.
“I just want it all to stop,” he admitted, something clear and so incredibly true that he kept in the dark, safely hidden away for so long, now for the first time making itself visible, let out into the open.
Steve's whole body tensed next to Peter’s.
“Oh baby. I am so sorry.”
Steve started playing with Peter's hair, brushing his fingers through his curls, desperate to soothe and fix and just take the pain away no matter what it took.
“I feel like I wasn't made to be here. I- I wasn't supposed to end up here.”
Steve took in a shaky breath while he felt his stomach twist with nausea.
“Can you please look at me? Open your eyes sweetheart.” Steve's adam apple bopped as he swallowed, voice thick with emotion. “I know that right now you don't feel that way, but I promise you Pete, yes, I promise,” Steve pushed as Peter started to shake his head in despair, “you're going to get better. And you'll be so, so happy one day, you'll look back to today and you'll feel so grateful for your past self for staying strong, pushing through and not giving up.”
“I'm not strong dad,” Peter whispered, sounding defeated, face morphing into something bitter. Like he's already given up. Steve couldn't bare to see him in so much pain.
“You don't have to be,” Steve said, putting all the conviction he could muster into his words. “Just- just, please darling promise me you won’t give up. I'll never give up on you.” He planted a kiss on his kid’s forehead, keeping contact for a second too long, not ready to let go.
---
Peter passed out in Steve's arms, too exhausted to get out of bed, so Tony brought the hot chocolates into the bedroom with the help of an increasingly anxious Bucky.
“Is he okay?” Bucky asked, meeting Steve’s gaze and lowering himself carefully next to the sleeping boy.
“He will be,” Steve replied in a low voice. “He has to be.”
---
Epilogue
If you would have asked Peter a year ago where he saw himself 12 months from now, he couldn't have answered you. His brain couldn't have come up with anything, it would just spit hateful lies telling him how nothing would ever get better, that he was always going to feel as miserable as he was right now. That he could never be happy. That he would never find love. That he is an imposter, an alien in a human's body. Someone who doesn't belong.
It's 12 months later and Peter is walking next to Ned, a huge backpack on both of their backs, in a beautiful meadow in the middle of nowhere. They are not in a hurry, just enjoying the sun dancing on their skin and breathing in the fresh air as deeply as possible. Ned playfully nudges Peter and catches his hand when he stumbles. He doesn't let go. So they walk hand in hand.
Peter feels- he feels calm. Quiet. His head isn't so painfully full anymore, like it could burst at any moment and let all his festering ugly thoughts out for everyone to see. Peter feels like he can go on. Like this. Taking it one day at a time. Treasuring his relationships with Steve and Tony and Bucky and Ned and MJ and Clint. He doesn’t have to do anything extraordinary, Charles often says. He just has to live.
When they reach the source of the mountain stream they decide to sit down into the soft grass and grab a bite.
“I want to tell you something," Peter says as Ned grabs his second sandwich. Ned quickly plasters on a smile, hiding the slight frown that appears on his face.
“Sure dude. What's up?”
Ned gently nudges his shoulder when Peter is silent for several seconds.
“It's not what you think. It's nothing like bad or illegal or anything." Peter tries his best to send his best friend a reassuring smile, but it wobbles around the edges.
"I have an eating disorder" Peter blurts out, just going with what first comes to his mind. There it was. Loud and clear, out in the open. Pete can't fight off some of the overwhelming blush creeping up on his face, a clear sign of the shame he still feels about it all.
“What? I-" Ned says, eyes wide and suddenly instead of confused, scared and uncertain.
“It started a year ago. I was," Peter almost says 'stupid' but thinks better of it in the last second. He is supposed to try and make small changes in the way he speaks and thinks about himself, the words of Charles echoing in his head.
“I was in a bad place.. mentally. Instead of reaching out to Steve or Tony or you,” he squeezes Ned's hand, “I did some stupid things.”
Well, Ned knows about some of it already. But Peter never talked about any off his issues so openly before.
“Oh,” Ned says, stealing a quick glance at Peter’s exposed bare forearms. “Are you still…?”
“No, not anymore," Peter trails off, "it's, I mean it's not something that's very easy to stop. I have my ups and downs but I'm seeing someone who helped me a lot with it. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was just- I didn't want you to think differently of me.”
“I would never ever judge you for any of it Peter. I hope you can believe me. I'm here for you.” Ned smiles earnestly and pulls him in close.
“Thank you. For everything,” Peter whispers into his friend's chest, holding on tight and for the first time in forever, feeling like he's the luckiest person alive without guilt clouding his smile.