Chapter Text
“So… are you going to tell me why you’re hiding out in the panic room?” Natasha asked curiously, watching the skinny teen from her position in the doorway, arms crossed against her chest. “You’ve been in here for quite a while, and I know what happens when you’re left alone with your thoughts.”
She didn’t get a response.
The panic room was constructed of solid vibranium and could be completely sound and lightproof when closed. It was also Hulk-proof, so Bruce had somewhere to go in case he was going to Hulk-out. But the Avengers occasionally used the room to cool off after a rough day or particularly heated argument. The vibranium walls naturally absorbed their strength and various powers so nothing else suffered through the heroes’ anger or sadness.
Their youngest teammate used it the most out of everyone.
Peter had a rough life. He experienced more loss in his sixteen years of life than most people would experience in a lifetime. And Peter had just turned sixteen just two months prior. Even before he started going out as Spider-Man, pain, both physical and psychological neglect, and abuse were things the teen was very familiar with. And, while Peter never openly talked about his parents and what it was like growing up with them, there were enough clues for the team to piece together how horrible it had been for Peter.
What made the whole situation worse was that Peter’s life wasn’t much better now that he lived with his aunt, poverty and emotional tension affecting their every move. New York was expensive, and it was evident that the Parkers were very poor, the teen’s clothing weathered and worn; covered in holes, or poorly stitched up from previous tears. Even his shoes seemed to be more hole than shoe, the soles threatening to fall off with each step.
An extremely enhanced metabolism was one of Peter’s many powers, which didn’t help when your family barely survived living paycheck to paycheck. The kid could easily out-eat both super-soldiers at mealtimes but was as thin as a twig. Peter would always be very skinny, his powers and natural physique assured that. But it hurt the team to know the kid went hungry most days of his life because he and his aunt could barely afford food. The possibility that May withheld food from Peter was almost too awful to think about.
On top of all of that, Peter and his aunt did not have a good relationship. He only spoke about her when directly asked, and when he did, it was with short, vague responses that didn’t leave much to go on. But after some digging on Tony’s part, it became clear that May wanted nothing to do with Peter. It was Ben who had accepted Peter when the teen’s parents had died in a plane crash, while May fought the custody process every step of the way. And judging by the sad, dejected look in Peter’s beautiful doe eyes whenever May was brought up, she was negligent at best. So, the Avengers tried their best to help their little spider out whenever they could.
It didn’t take long for the vigilante to grow on the heroes. Only after a month of knowing him, they were absolutely smitten and understood what Tony had meant when he said the kid was adorable. Peter was empathetic, selfless, a genius, and an extremely powerful mutant who risked his life daily to save people. Now, a year and a half later, after completing dozens of missions, field operations, training exercises, movie nights, and everyday activities accompanied by the vigilante, the Avengers considered Peter a teammate and a family member. They would die for him.
Natasha sat criss-cross-applesauce behind Peter and rested her hands on her knees, mimicking Peter’s position. She was just close enough for their backs to be touching; the lumps of Peter’s spine digging into her uncomfortably, but she didn’t care in the slightest. It was apparent that something was bothering Peter, and she would help him in any way she could. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Again, she got no response.
This wasn’t the first time she had found Peter isolating himself in the panic room, trying to stave off his demons alone. He often went there when he was experiencing a sensory overload or was feeling overwhelmed. It was no secret that Tony and herself were the closest to Peter; with Steve being a close second. Tony was practically the kid’s dad, and she wore the title of aunt Tasha proudly. They knew him the best and were usually the ones that found Peter and coaxed him out of hiding.
“You’ve been a lot quieter this past month,” she noted. “Not that you’ve ever been much of an extrovert.”
“I’m fine, Tasha.”
She smiled to herself, thrilled Peter was willingly communicating with her. “Would you prefer English, Русский, or another?” (Russian) Both spiders were fluent in multiple languages and would often use more than one dialect during a single conversation; the different tongues flowing into each other smoothly like water down a stream as they conversed.
Peter leaned farther back against his pseudo aunt, relishing in the warmth and comfort she brought. “English. I’m too tired to focus on anything else.” He sounded fatigued as if he hadn’t slept in days, his voice slightly hoarse. The purple rings under his eyes a physical affirmation of his fatigue.
“Do you want to talk about anything? Or would you rather I ask yes or no questions?”
“Questions, please.”
Depression, anxiety, and low self-esteem were tough things to deal with, let alone talk about. And Peter wasn’t one to vent to others because he didn’t want to bother anyone, often putting on a mask instead, feigning normalcy in order to spare others. A facade so good that he left even the best spies in the world guessing. So, when something was clearly bothering Peter, the heroes found a way to get him to open up without him having to have to do much talking; a game of yes or no. And more often than not, it worked.
“All right, then.” She tapped her finger against her chin, trying to choose the best way to go about this. Eventually, she decided to start with broad questions, narrowing things down depending on what Peter’s answers were. “Is the month of October hard for you? And or Halloween?”
Peter was quiet for a few seconds before whispering, “Yes and yes.”
“Have you always felt this way?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve noticed you’re not a big fan of horror movies and creepy or scary stuff in general. Does that have anything to do with your negative feelings towards this month?”
“Yes.”
“Has something happened at school that made things worse?”
The teen excelled in every school subject with the exception being PE since he pretended to be weak so no one would suspect anything. But he had arrived at the Tower with fresh bruises on his face on numerous occasions, bruises he couldn’t explain. They were difficult to see most times because Peter’s healing factor usually healed smaller injuries in under an hour. Unluckily for Peter, it was only a twenty-minute commute from Midtown tech to Avengers Tower. So he wasn’t always able to hide the clear signs of bullying.
“Yes.”
“Was it a bully?”
Peter sighed heavily and maneuvered himself to rest the back of his head on Natasha’s shoulder but was still facing the opposite direction. “Yes and no.” He sighed, “Today was just… not a good day.”
Natasha ran her delicate fingers through the honey-brown curls tickling her cheek. Everyone loved those adorable curls, never passing up the chance to pet or ruffle them. “I won’t force you to talk about it. But you know it’s only going to hurt more if you keep everything bottled up inside.”
“I-I know. I s’pose it’s time I told you guys anyway. But… I don’t want you guys to be afraid of me or… or to hate me.”
He sounded so exhausted and worn out and Natasha had to fight the urge to turn around and hug him. Instead, she calmly said, “We could never hate you, Peter. You’re a part of our team. Please don’t worry about that.”
“It’s-“ he hesitated, “it’s kinda weird.”
“Peter, you’re a meta with spider powers. Aliens have come from the sky, the multiverse is real, and one of our teammates is a god.” She chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly. “Not much can surprise me. It’s not like you can see dead people or anything, right?”
Her smirk fell off once she turned and saw the uneasy look on Peter’s face. “Right?” she asked again, less confidently this time.
He chuckled nervously, “Surprise.”