Chapter Text
What about a spidey fic? I love how you write those. Maybe Peter’s feeling insecure and the Avengers try to help? Idk, it doesn’t matter to me as long as it’s spidey. – anon
Recovery is hard.
Not just because broken ribs always suck and even his healing factor has its limits, not just because he's cooped up on bedrest when all he wants to do is crawl on the ceiling and make all of this go away, but because he's still here. In the Avengers' compound and he's not sure what the hell he's supposed to be doing.
"Resting," Yelena says helpfully when he mumbles as much, putting down her crochet project she's been fiddling with on and off for the last few weeks, "you got hurt, Baby Spider, now you get better."
"But I don't just want to lie here! I can still do things!"
"Things that don't involve you challenging Barton to another round of trick shots in the archery range?" She doesn't even look ashamed when he gawks at her. "Barton wants you to get better too, you know. That way he doesn't have to feel bad about beating you soundly."
"He wouldn't."
"Wouldn't what, beat you soundly or wouldn't feel bad about it?"
"Aunt Spider—" Peter is not whining, he is making his voice sound like this on purpose because his ribs hurt— "I don't just want to lie around in bed all day!"
"You could do your homework."
"I've already done all my homework!"
"You could catch up on studying for your tests."
"I don't need to study for those anymore, I basically have all the practice questions memorized. Besides, I'm not supposed to do that for more than four hours a day anymore."
"Oh? Why is that?" He mumbles something under his breath. "What was that?"
"… maybe I stayed up too late and passed out with all of my books."
"Is that all?"
"And spilled coffee and energy drinks everywhere."
"You really aren't helping me beat the rumors that you're my kid," Mr. Stark says, startling Peter while Yelena snickers. He comes into the room and sits on the edge of the bed, ruffling his hair with a comfortable fondness that makes Peter's chest hurt for a different reason. "And that does mean I'll sick DUM-E and U in here to make sure you stay in bed."
"But Mr. Stark—"
"Nope! No buts." He holds up a finger. "Pepper's enforced the no-work-on-bedrest rule enough times that I'm not about to help you break it."
Peter is not pouting, his bottom lip is just bigger than his top one. Exclusively right now. Right now is when that's true. Mr. Stark just sighs and ruffles his hair again.
"Cheer up, kid. We'll order your favorite junk food and binge-watch some awful action movies tonight, okay?"
"Okay, Mr. Stark."
"There's my favorite young adult." He stands, wagging a finger at Yelena too. "You still good for guard duty?"
"That's what I'm here for."
It's probably a joke. It's supposed to be a joke. He's known Mr. Stark and Yelena long enough to know when they're joking. This is, in all likelihood, just a joke at his expense and they're not actually serious about guarding him like he's a prisoner or someone dangerous where they can't afford to have him escape and cause trouble.
So why does Peter feel like he's been shot and stabbed all over again?
He messed up really badly on the last mission. They said they weren't mad, but not being mad didn't mean weren't disappointed and everyone knows that's worse. Maybe that's why they're guarding him. There's been someone in his room pretty much at all hours and he knows he's being watched on the cameras too. Is he being guarded? He's definitely being guarded, and that means they still don't trust him.
Is it because he's so young? Crying all over Yelena and trying to be strong when really all he did was reveal how scared he was and how young— what sort of person couldn't deal with a rightly-earned scolding? Is he really so immature that he can't take something so simple as being told he'd messed up when he knew he did? That probably has something to do with it; they'd seen how truly childish he was when he tried to 'bravely' insist that he's ready to be yelled at—why had he jumped right to the conclusion that he was going to be yelled at? Did he think they were so bad that they'd just go straight to yelling? No questions for his perspective? No consideration for his side of the story? No, he'd just assumed they'd be mad and yell at him and he'd gotten himself all worked up for nothing.
"Peter? Baby Spider?"
He blinks. Oh. He's started crying again. That's embarrassing. He blinks a few more times to clear his vision and sees Yelena staring at him with open concern. He tries to mumble something along the lines of—well, he hadn't actually gotten far enough to decide what it was he was going to say, but instead of words coming out, he just sniffles. She scoots a bit closer, reaching out to check something on the bedside table, and then cards her fingers through his hair. The light tingling sensation feels really good, and it just makes him cry harder.
"Shh, shh, Baby Spider," she's whispering, "what's wrong? Talk to me, tell me what's making you cry."
"'M sorry—"
"No apologies, Baby Spider, remember? I will not abandon you to pain."
And just that, just that memory of all of them being so worried for him, all of them clustered around that hospital bed, is enough to make him feel even worse. Because what right does he have to assume the worst of them? They're the fucking Avengers, who is he to think badly of them?
"Hey, stay with me." The hand in his hair pushes it back from his face. "Stay with me, look at me, that's it—yes, look at me. Peter? Are you here with me?"
"Y-yeah, Aunt Spider, I'm—I'm here."
"That's good. Can you stay with me this time? Can we try?" He nods again. "Good. Now, let's try this again: what's making you cry, Baby Spider?"
He sniffles, trying to focus on her question and not the roiling guilt in his gut or the soft touch of her fingers against his still-tender scalp. "I just want to be able to do things."
"I know. I'm sorry."
" You're sorry? But you didn't do anything wrong!"
"Sympathy, Baby Spider, not remorse." She takes the half-finished crochet animal and boops his nose with its nose. "I've been on bedrest before, it's not fun."
"It's not."
"That's why I'm here to keep you company, hm? So that our Baby Spider doesn't go insane while he can't climb on all the walls and scare us at two in the morning."
"I don't scare you," he replies mulishly, "just Mr. Stark."
"And it's wonderful and I will be uploading that video to YouTube once it gets long enough."
He snorts. "Good luck."
"Thank you." She nudges his cheek this time. "Are you feeling any better? Do you need anything?"
"Will you tell me another story, Aunt Spider?"
"Of course I will."
Yelena has to leave before movie night, which means someone else swaps out for guard duty. He hopes it'll be Dr. Banner, maybe he can convince him to talk about work even if they don't actually do anything. Or maybe Rhodey, because then he can just hear all the stories about Mr. Stark when he was younger and getting into trouble.
He doesn't get those. No, instead Captain Rogers comes in with that soft smile and sits down in the chair with a sketchbook and Peter is terrified.
Not because he thinks Captain Rogers would hurt him, no, but because Captain Rogers is Captain Fucking America and he's already fucked up enough in front of him that he probably thinks Peter's awful and too young and too immature and the fact that he's assuming the worst of him right now is only proving him right and he's going to freak the hell out and—
"Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me."
There's a warm hand on his face. There's another warm hand on his chest. There's a soft voice in his ear. He's gasping and sobbing. When did that happen?
"Eyes on me, Peter," Captain Rogers is saying, and he really should be trying to listen, "that's it, just like that, eyes on me."
"'M here, I'm sorry, I'm here."
"Shh, shh, it's okay, sweetheart." Oh, god, not the pet names. "You're doing so well. Just keep breathing and keep your eyes on me, okay? Just look at me."
He keeps talking, keeps talking in that really low comforting voice that all superheroes need to have for when they talk to civilians, and Peter's not sure why that's twisting in his gut the same way the panic was earlier, but now his stomach is aching and he thinks he must mumble something about it because then one of his big warm hands slides down and he's about to protest but he rubs a soft, slow circle into the tender skin and it shuts him right up. It's just like him: gentle but insistent, and Peter's crying like a baby again because he's being so nice and Peter's being so mean to him.
"You're not being mean to me, sweetheart," he soothes, looking so distraught that Peter thinks he's being bad, "you're just crying. That's okay."
"N-no, I'm—I keep thinking you're—that I'm—"
"That you're what," he prompts gently when Peter shakes his head furiously, refusing to finish his sentence, "that you're what, Peter?"
"It's nothing."
"It's made you panic and hurt," comes the soft correction, "that's not nothing."
"It's stupid."
There's a pause, during which Peter's brain does its best to panic again, but then Captain Rogers is turning his face toward his with a terribly soft look on his face and that hand on his stomach is still soothing away the fear before it has time to form and he's going to cry all over both of them again.
"I know you're scared," he murmurs, "I know you're hurt. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm not going to be mad at you, I'm not going to kick you out of here or anything like that. You're one of us, kid, and we care about you. Not just because you're an incredible hero, but because you're a good kid. You're our good kid, no matter how much Tony and Nat and Yelena try to monopolize you. You're our Peter Parker, and we're here for you. Not just as Spider-Man, but for you."
…well, fuck.
"Is that it?" His face falls when Peter just nods frantically. "Oh, kid…I can't hug you right now, but—no, okay, we're gonna make this work. Come here, lift your head up…"
He slides one arm under Peter's head and shoulders, leaning over the bed and bringing him into a slightly awkward cuddle, but it's still a cuddle and Peter's crying all over again because Captain Rogers is trying to cuddle him because he's upset.
"Shh, shh, it's okay," he's whispering, "I'm right here, sweetheart, everything's gonna be okay."
"What did you do to my Baby Spider?"
"Shh, it's just Nat, it's okay." He turns over his shoulder. "I'm giving him a hug because he's scared and upset, if that's alright with you."
"Why is my Baby Spider upset?" She comes around to the other side of the bed, letting out a quiet noise and wiping a tear from his cheek. "What did Steve do?"
"N-nothing, nothing, he didn't do anything wrong, please—"
"Now look what you've done," Captain Rogers says, but he's still speaking softly, like it's just a joke, and he's pulled in for a kiss on the forehead, "you're making him more upset."
"Oh, Baby Spider, it's okay, we're just playing. You're okay, you're okay…" She picks up his hand and kisses his knuckles. "What's got you all upset today?"
"Jus' being stupid."
"No," Captain Rogers corrects, still soft, still gentle, "try again, sweetheart."
The lump in his throat won't go away. "'M scared that you're gonna—that 'm gonna lose this."
"Lose what, Baby Spider? Us taking care of you? Us caring about you?" How does she do that? "Oh, Peter, no. You're stuck with us forever."
"You don't have to threaten him, Nat."
"Is that what you think my threats sound like, Rogers?"
Peter laughs. It's more of a sob than a laugh and he's definitely still crying, but it is a laugh. And he almost wants to laugh again at how quickly the two of them melt. Captain Rogers keeps rubbing his aching stomach and Ms. Romanoff starts playing with his hair again and his eyes get heavy before he can even think about it too much. "We still—'re we still movie night?"
"Yeah, sweetheart, we're still on for movie night. You gotta stay awake long enough to tell Tony what you want for dinner, though."
"FRIDAY knows."
"Oh, she does, does she?"
"Peter has already informed Mr. Stark that the Number 12 meal has been requested."
"How many of those do you two have?"
"…'bout 30 I think?"
"Oh, Baby Spider, don't ever change."