Archive of Our Own

The Avengers compound has been great to you. Ever since you were recruited, they worked to make you feel comfortable and a vital member of the team. It took a while to come around, but it didn’t matter because they were almost a family to you. Especially Peter Parker.

Once they discovered you were an enhanced teen, Peter seemed to gravitate towards you. Perhaps it was because you could understand each other better than most. You didn’t ask for your powers but you have them, and you both intend on doing good with them for as long as you are alive. You didn’t expect it to become anything more than a friendship. In fact, you resisted it. The vulnerability that came with the relationship, the secrets that you would need to reveal, terrified you. So you shoved your feelings to the back. It didn’t matter that Peter’s hugs were so warm and inviting that they could make you instantly relax. Or that his laugh is so soft and breathy and pure that it fills your stomach with butterflies. No, you can’t do that. It’s better to do that than to mess any of that up.

But Peter wouldn’t have that. He cared about you deeply. More so than you ever expected from anyone. You will never forget the screaming match that brought you together.

* * * *                 *

“Why are you so reckless?!” Peter exclaimed. You had gotten hurt on a mission saving him. Sure, he could have handled it, but you could just sense he was too occupied to see the bullet coming towards him. Thankfully, it only hit your shoulder, no major organs or arteries, but it still scared the shit out of Peter and the team.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Y/N scoffed.

“It’s not funny. You don’t get to take my injuries. I would have been fine.”

“You’re acting like I am not! You are not the only one who heals quick, it hit nothing bad”

Peter stepped closer toward you. “And what if it did, huh? What would I have done then!”

You felt rage boil in your stomach. You can handle your own.

“But it didn’t! God, you sound like Steve, you are equally as reckless and self-sacrificial as I am and you are trying to berate me? That’s not how it works.”

“No! You can’t do that, I won’t let you,” Peter screamed, raking his hand aggressively through his hair and turning away.

“Why not? What makes me any different? Why do you care?!”

“Because I care for you, Y/N! Don’t you understand that?!” He yelled. That seemed to shut you up, because why the hell should he even care about you?

“I like you, Y/N. A lot. I don’t know— I can’t describe it to you, but I really like you and I hate watching you get hurt—“ he took your hand in his, still not meeting your gaze “especially because of me.”

You were left dumbstruck and heavily conflicted. One part of you was excited because as much as you refused to admit it, you had feelings for Peter, too. He is kind and funny and unbearably corny. He made your heart soar in ways that you had never felt before. The other half, though, was terrified. You never wanted people to get close to you. You hurt everyone around you, you could hurt them, their feelings. It will always be your fault. You couldn’t possibly let yourself do this.

But in flash of judgement, your heart moved before your head could. Words failed to come to you. You looked down, seeing Peter’s hands softly caressing yours in his soft but stable grip. His breathing was heavier, out of fear, care, whatever. With your right hand, you tipped his chin up to look you in the eye. His eyes were red and wet with unshed tears. His hair was disheveled and his lips were parted. But his gaze was looking directly into yours, completely unwavering.

For a moment, it was still. Nothing but the sound of your breathing. You still couldn’t move out of fear of messing it all up, so you hoped with the gaze held between you two that the message of your heart would send.

Peter slowly brought his hand up to your face, cradling it gently, and his eyes broke the gaze and traveled to your lips. Every so slightly, he tilted your head up to meet him and you both closed your eyes. A soft exhale escaped your lips and that was all Peter needed to close the gap between you two in a kind, easy, and long overdue kiss.

Your heart swelled at the feeling of his lips on yours. Thank god, message delivered.

* * * * * * *

Ever since that day, you and Peter have been dating. You never formally told the team, but when they caught you sleep on him in the common room, they put two and two together. They were happy that you two finally got together. Your dancing around each other was “almost unbearable,”  according to Tony. And for once, it feels okay. But not all of your fear was gone. In fact, most of it remained, suppressed. Peter made everything easier.

But you never told him about the cutting.

The razor blade was a friend of yours. A knife on occasion as well. Sometimes, it was just…too much. The work, the fighting, the team dynamic, the constant nagging fear of being a failure and screwing up. Hating and doubting yourself and your actions, your looks. And a piece of metal doesn’t ask any questions, it gets the job done.

At first, it wasn’t a big deal, it had been going on since before the team found you. Since it’s only been a few months, in fall/winter at that, it wasn’t hard to hide it. But as things got more intense, you needed it more, and the slashes that covered your thighs and forearms multiplied. It’s not like you were one to show off your body, you didn’t always feel great about it (even though you knew intellectually it was fine, probably better than most). So, long sleeves and long pants throughout the season worked out well. And, lucky for you, Peter liked to take things slow and careful because he didn’t want to ruin anything (although he could never) so you haven’t done more together than a make-out session or being felt up through clothes. Heck, you’ve only given head to him a few times. Whenever it felt like it might become more about you, you gave him more affection or pulled back.

Your body’s response was a different story. Your powers gave you accelerated healing, so at first, it wasn’t a big deal. But then as it became frequent, your body just….slowed down. As if the injuries were not vital or important anymore to fix, and before you knew, it started scarring. It was faint at first, you didn’t notice. But then after a while, they became darker on your skin and your arms and thighs were littered with them. They were ugly, disgusting, more so than you already knew you were. God forbid anyone find out. But God always has a funny way of playing things out, doesn’t He?

On another long, tiring mission, the mission was to bomb an old Hydra base that was still trying to manufacture and transfer alien weaponry. The team didn’t know anymore than you about the hostage situation, but when the team split to find the weaponry, you ended up fighting some of the goons protecting their shipments. Before you knew it, one of them drew out a button, threatening to blow the place. Of course, you didn’t think much of it considering that was what you planned to do, so when he triggered a bomb to go off in thirty seconds, you alerted the team to get out before anything happened to them. You dragged him out to the team, and the man put on his best act, looking scared and horrified at you.

“I told you there were innocents!” He shouted as you held his collar. All the blood drained from your face.

“What?”

“I suppose you didn’t check everything, did you?”

The team raced back to the rubble of the building, desperate to see if he was lying. But after a long dig through the concrete, seven bodies of innocents were found. The team was devastated, you especially. To make matters worse, it resulted in a lengthy lecture from Steve in front of the team about your recklessness and attention to detail.

“You knew there were innocents and didn’t tell us?!” Steve had shouted at you.

He was angry, but you equally so. It wasn’t all on you, and you were put in a horrible position.

“No, I didn’t! He never said a word. He was planning to bomb the place, but he told me nothing more.”

“You should have tried to stop him!”

“I did!”

“When in the face of a life-or-death situation, you alert the other team members, no exception.”

“Why weren’t we told there were any hostages? This isn’t all on me, we were not properly informed of the situation.”

“Yes, that was not your fault, but you did not once try to reach anyone else until that bomb was triggered. You have to think that there is more to it if we were already planning to detonate the building. You were reckless today and that cost us seven innocents!”

His words stung, but you kept a straight face.

“Christ…” Steve muttered. “See this is why you cannot be out in the field. You’re young and take actions that are poorly thought through. If you had not been there, we could have found those people. You’re a liability and dangerous, and I am benching you from missions from this moment forward.”

“What? Why?!”

“You are not fit to help us until you learn to make better decisions and work with the team. You should not have been out there in the first place, and you never will be. Not unless you learn to do better.” And with that, Steve walked away in anger. Natasha followed suit, most likely to calm him down. Now, you kept a straight face and you were always good at that, but damn, that one hurt a lot. The disappointing looks across everyone’s faces didn’t help. So, you remained quiet for the rest of the ride back, itching for a blade.

When you got back, you didn’t say a word. You simply walked up to your room, eyes level. You could feel tears in the back of your eyes but they wouldn’t fall even if you wanted them to. You spent so much time unwilling to let yourself cry that it made it that much harder for when you needed it.

You stripped of your suit and clothes to shower. Grabbing one of your blades, you brought it with you into the shower. It was always easier to clean it. Without hesitation, you brought it down to your thigh.

|///\\\|/|

You fucking dumbass. You failed. Why did you do that? Look what you did. You deserve it.

You moved up to your left forearm.

Seven lives. That’s blood on your hands. You must bleed for those seven that you caused you idiot. You failure. You’re nothing.

You took in and let out a shaky breath and stopped. Your brain was so caught up in it all that you didn’t even look at the damage you did, just closed your eyes and feel the burn that the shower caused on them.

You washed up quickly, but when you came out, they were still bleeding pretty heavily. No big deal, you thought. You could easily just wrap them up and wear long sleeves, you have done it before, and bandage up the thigh cuts that are bleeding heavier. You wrapped up your arm and put some bandages on your legs. Looked kinda weird, but nobody would see it.

You stepped out of the bathroom and threw on a solid green long-sleeve shirt and some black sweatpants when JARVIS rang out.

“Ms. Y/L/N, Peter Parker has requested your presence in the common area.”

You tensed. You couldn’t face the team right now.

“Is he the only one there right now?”

“Yes.”

If it’s just Peter, you can handle that. He wouldn’t be mad at you, right?

“Tell him I’ll be right down.”

Going down the elevator, you made it to the communal floor. It was dim but you could see everything. You don’t remember when it became night, but you guess you guys returned towards the end of sundown.

Peter was watching a movie when he looked up to the sound of the doors opening. Honestly, it was hard to look him in the eye right now so you kept your gaze down and made your way to the couch, gingerly sitting down beside him. You faced forward but you could feel him looking at you.

“Hey,” he said softly. You didn’t trust your voice with anything in that moment so you remained quiet.

“I’m sorry you had to get chewed out by Steve. Nobody knew that was going to happen.”

Gently, he placed his hand over yours, you turned your head away.

God just be mad at me I deserve it. Why are you being kind, I don’t deserve it.

“I am not mad at you so stop thinking that.”

Damn it, sometimes he could read your mind too well. You swallowed, realizing your throat was pretty dry but you tried anyway.

“I am going to get grilled in training for weeks,” you said with a light smirk, though it didn’t reach your eyes. Deflecting with humor was always your strong suit, you were basically like Tony.

Peter squeezed your hand, “I don’t think it’ll be just you.”

You let a soft smile grace your lips and Peter squeezed your hand. You finally looked up at him to see concern and care, and you hated that he gave it to you when you had no right.

“Hey, it’s gonna be ok, Y/N. You know that, right?”

You swallowed and looked back down at the oh-so-interesting floor.

Yes, you knew intellectually that everything would be fine. This wasn’t the first or last time missions were going to go south. But emotionally, that was a different story. How could you forgive yourself for this?

“Y/N.”

“…yeah. Yeah, I know.” You squeezed his hand and let your shoulders drop a little bit. Even if you didn’t believe those words, Peter made you want to believe.

The silence of nothing but the TV was deafening, so you cleared your throat.

“So, am I going to have to beg to watch anything other than Star Wars?”

Peter feigned a look of hurt, “What? I thought you liked them!”

“I mean I do, but I also like brownies, but you don’t see me eating them everyday,” you teased.

“Wooooow, okay, I am gonna have to tickle you for that one,” Peter said moving forward.

“No, no, Peter! Stop!” You yelled as his fingers reached your sides. You were always susceptible to Peter’s tickles.

You lunged forward to grab the remote but he beat you to it, holding it above his head with an, “I don’t think so!”

You leaned over him trying to grab it, chuckling.

“Peter, give it up!”

“In your dreams.”

In attempts to grab it, you reached forward with your left hand, but, Peter grabbed your forearm to stop you. It immediately shot pain up your arm and you ripped it away like you were burnt with a grunt. Peter immediately stopped smiling and stared at you, worried but confused. He looked down at his hand and his eyes widened slightly.

“You’re hurt.”

Fuck. You looked down and saw that your forearm was still bleeding. A lot, at that. More so than usual and it was bleeding through your sleeve. You cradled it in your arm, holding it close to your chest but not too close to get blood on the front.

“You’re bleeding,” he said again. Some blood was on his hand. “Let me see—“

“No.” You said, rising up, “It’s nothing.”

“Did you get hurt on the mission?” He said, also standing now.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then why are you bleeding?”

“It’s nothing.”

You were deflecting because fuck how could you be so careless. Now he saw you bleeding and you were dumb enough to not use the mission as an alibi. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Peter stepped closer to you but you stepped back. Every time he walked forward, you stepped back. Somehow that little dance left you at a standstill behind the couch, nothing but the TV in play. You two stood 5ft apart.

You were looking him dead on. He looked anxious, despite him trying to remain calm. He could sense you were about to run. He held his hands up in a defensive way.

“Y/N.” He said, much softer than before. Your heart shattered at his voice. He sounded so scared and it was your fault. Your eyes fell to your arm, which was still bleeding a lot, covering the majority of your forearm portion, and might just start circling around the fabric.

You shook your head in defeat, in anger.

“Please..,” you rasped out, eyes closed, “I can’t do this right now.”

For once, those tears sat at the front, trying to fall as you looked back at him. His gaze softened.

“What did you do?”

You couldn’t get any words and Tom seemed stuck. He didn’t know what to do, he had never seen you so…upset. The silence was broken by the elevator dinging, and you took that as an opportunity to sprint to the stairs.

“Y/N, wait!” You heard from someone’s voice, but you didn’t care as you sprinted, trying to get away from the huge problem you just caused.

* * * * * * *

Turns out that voice was Steve’s, as he had just arrived on the floor with Tony, refreshed and clean after the day. As soon as they stepped out, they saw you sprint away, Peter staring at you, or where you used to be, in mild shock. They both knew something was wrong.

“Kid? What happened? What’s wrong?” Tony said, trying to get his attention.

Peter let out an exhale, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s Y/N. She’s hurt, bleeding.”

“What?” Steve said. “Why didn’t she go to Medbay?”

“It’s not from the mission.”

“Then what is it from, kid? You gotta—“

“I think she did it.”

The two men in front of Peter looked shocked and confused, but he could see when two and two clicked for Steve.

“You mean she—“

Peter wasn’t really listening at that point. He just needed to talk you. He couldn’t believe he froze like that. “JARVIS, where is Y/N right now?”

A beat.

“Ms. Y/N is currently standing on the roof.”

“Shit…” Peter mumbled, moving towards the stairs, “I gotta talk to her.”

“We are going with you,” Steve said.

“No, you can’t!” Peter said to him.

“She could be potentially endangering herself!”

“Yeah, well no offense, sir, but after today, you might be the last people she wants to see right now. Just…fine. You can come up, but let me talk to her, stay behind the door and watch from the window.”

Peter finished, hoping they would listen to him. He heard them sprinting behind him as they climbed the stairs to the top floor. No words were spoken as they raced, begging that you weren’t planning to do anything. Or that you had done it already.

* * * * * * *

You burst through the roof doors. You glanced at your arm.

Well that’s a lot more blood than normal. The bottom half of your sleeve was drenched with the crimson color and when you let your arm hang, it dripped. You could feel your pulse throbbing in your arm, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Slowly, you walked to the ledge and stood on the miniature wall. You had good balance so you weren’t going to fall. Only if you wanted to.

You stared at the bright lights of the city. A city of good and bad people, and you always wondered where you fell. You knew you would never be good enough to be a “good” person, but you didn’t think you were “bad” in that sense. So where did you fall?

Pathetic. Weak. Can’t even hide your problems, always make them somebody else’s. It would be better if you were gone. Nobody would miss you. Let them forget about you. It would be like you never existed.

You stared down at the people below. You could barely see them and you doubted they could see you. Couldn’t you imagine what would happen if you did fall? If you slipped, landing right in front of someone, the sheer terror—

“Y/N?” A voice came from behind you, low and firm yet gentle.

You looked forward, still not turning around. A sad smile formed, though, because that voice sounded so sweet to you.

“Y/N, can you get down from there?” Peter said. He could probably see the blood dripping from your arm but didn’t care. You could feel the blood on your thighs as well, sweatpants too thick to show it, but definitely absorbing it.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna do anything,” right now, “I’m just…thinking.”

“That’s fine, but I really think you should come off from there.” There was a pleading in Peter’s voice now, an urgency.

“You weren’t supposed to know,” you mumbled, ignoring what Peter said.

“I thought that, y’know, I’d be able to get my shit together before but I guess I was wrong.” You let out a breathy, humorless laugh.

You heard Peter’s steps on the gravel of the roof as he walked towards you. You honestly felt a little light-headed, but you couldn’t tell if it was your brain being fogged with intrusive thoughts or the blood. Didn’t matter, I guess.

Suddenly, you felt Peter’s hand grasping yours softly. You looked down to look him in the eye. Your eyes were glazed, but you were looking at him. His face looked surprisingly determined, but you knew he was nervous.

“Y/N, it’s going to be okay. But you are still bleeding a lot, too much. Let me help you.” His eyes were practically begging you to get down. You looked back to the city, to the people. What you were looking for, you had no idea anymore, but you didn’t feel the need to fall right now. Someone was there to catch you.

Peter gently helped you down, where you basically fell into his arms. He caught you easily and he gripped you like a lifeline, like he was terrified you were going to disappear from his hold.

Your body was shaking and god you needed to cry so bad but you couldn’t right now.

Your hold on him was loose.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. His hand came to head and stroke your hair. He kissed your head.

“It’s okay, baby, you have nothing to apologize for.”

You don’t know how long you stood there, but somewhere during that time you got scarily dizzy. You felt yourself having a hard time holding yourself on your own and you just felt exhausted.

“Y/N?” Peter pulled back to look at you.

“Mmmmm…” you couldn’t bring your head off his chest.

“Shit, your arm.” Peter whispered. Your arm was still actively dripping. How much damage did I do?

“Y/N? Stay awake, ok? I’m gonna take you to Medbay and they can help you.”

You shook your head slowly against him, bringing your right hand up to softly grasp his shirt.

“No…you…just you, don’t leave me.” You said quietly.

Don’t leave me? Selfish. You don’t deserve him.

“Okay…okay, I’ll help you, okay, but we need to go.” With that, Peter scooped you into his arms, moving you so your left arm rested in your lap and your right hand loosely held him.

He made his way back to the door, grip on you strong and unyielding. The door was opened by a very concerned Steve and Tony, who had watched the scene unfold from the window in the door. They watched nervously as Peter sped walked inside.

“Do you need help?” Steve asked Peter.

“No, I got her. But we gotta hurry, it’s…”

“Shit…” muttered Tony. He could see your arm and it didn’t look pretty. And that’s without even looking at the wounds. He brought up a hand to his mouth, while Steve was failing at keeping his composure.

Without another second, Peter went forward to the elevator, Tony and Steve just behind him. The doors opened and they stepped inside.

“JARVIS, Medbay, as fast as possible,” Tony spoke, and the doors closed and they were moving.

Your eyes were getting difficult to hold open, and if you payed attention to your arm, it hurt like a bitch.

You let them flutter close for second before Peter was shaking you a little.

“C’mon, Y/N, you gotta stay awake, I know it’s hard. After we are done, we can watch whatever you want, even if it’s not Star Wars.”

“Mmmm wooow, my l-lucky day…” you slurred out. You felt Peter chuckle a little. His heart was beating like crazy against your face, though. Steve and Tony were staring at the sight earnestly. They had never seen Peter so determined and calm in a stressful situation. He was taking it like a champ. He was being so caring, whispering words of encouragement into your ear to stay awake. Tony had never been prouder, and Steve respected the kid deeply.

For a moment, the tension subsided, until your right arm slipped from holding Peter.

Peter felt it and quickly said, “JARVIS, can you go any faster?” He was staring at you and your arm.

“I am going as fast as safely possible,” he stated, “Estimated arrival is 15 seconds.”

Peter shook you gently, “C’mon Y/N, don’t do this. Just hang in there, it’s okay.”

“‘M s’rry,” you managed, but you felt heavy, and honestly, scared.

The doors pinged and the four of you rushed out to the nearest room, Peter rushing to place you on a cot. Steve quickly went to grab a suture, while Tony helped Peter with you.

“Is there any of the medical team around?” Peter asked.

“No, nobody had any major injuries so they went home. Only a few nurses,” replied Steve.

“We’d be better off doing this ourselves at this rate, she doesn’t look good,” came from Tony.

You were staring up at the ceiling, dazed. “I’m fine.”

“No, Y/N, let us help you,” said Steve.

“D’n’t— d’n’t bother.” How you got those words out, lord knows, but it obviously made the guys stressed and even more concerned.

Steve moved to grab your arm, trying not to injure it further. Right before he lifted your sleeve, you spoke.

“Ple’se…don’t. You…y’u won’t like it.”

“Hey, Y/N, look at me, look at me,” coaxed Peter. You looked at him, probably looking scared. His voice wavered a little bit but he still held your hand, “It’s alright, okay, but you have to let us help you.” There wasn’t anything you could say to change their minds, so you just turned to stare at the ceiling, bracing yourself.

Steve hesitated momentarily before lifting your sleeve. He rolled it up carefully. The bandages you put on your arm were covered in blood. Slowly, you felt Steve uncover your arm, and when the gasps from all three of them were audible, you couldn’t help but look.

Shit.

Lines of various lengths and depth were littered across your forearm. There were several horizontal lacerations towards the crook of your elbow, thin but long, not much blood. There were also cuts towards the base of your hand, little, deep cuts along your wrist. As much as those had thick blood leaking steadily with coagulated blood coating them, nothing compared to the two vertical lines, deep that went from wrist to base, dangerously deep and still bleeding more than they should be.

“My god..” Whispered Tony, who had been surprisingly quiet. Steve looked on with absolute dread, and if you looked close enough, there would have been tears in his eyes that he was blinking away.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Peter’s voice came from your side, his brave face obviously cracking, “my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He buried his head in your head, placing soft kisses along your forehead. He didn’t care about Steve and Tony right there, he just wanted to hold you. Nobody could move for a second, but Steve cleared his throat.

“We need to stop the bleeding. Most of these don’t need stitches, just the two, and… and you lost a lot of blood, so you might need a blood transfusion.” Silence. “Tony, I need you too get me some O+ and set it up.”

Tony was frozen, still staring at Steve and your arm.

“Tony!” He snapped.

“Right, right, I’ll…yeah.” And he left the room.

The rest of it passed in a blur, half from blood loss, the other from trying to block out what is happening. Thank god you had a high pain tolerance because fuck, this hurts. Every once in a while, a tug would put you back into the present, and a strained whimper would escape your lips. To that, you felt Peter hold your hand and caress your face, telling you it’s okay. To squeeze his hand if it hurts too much.

God, you’re sixteen. He’s sixteen. You are making him suffer through this. Give him more trauma, make him worry. You will be nothing but a liability.

You wanted nothing more than to just scream and cry and pull you hair out and jump off a bridge… okay, maybe not that one. But that sure felt like it would be easier than this.

“Okay, I’m finished.” Oh, that was quick. When you came to again, Steve had wrapped up your arm. In fact, Tony had come back at some point and put in the IV. When you looked up there was an O+ blood drip flowing into your right arm. Peter still held a firm grip on your hand, although he had sat back onto the bed now, careful not to touch the IV.

Your blood was everywhere. Smeared on the sheets, Peter’s shirt, Steve’s hands. Your shirt looked like a crime scene. You really liked this shirt, too.

“I am going to go clean up. You should get some rest Y/N. Tony or I can come back to—“

“No, it’s okay,” Peter spoke, “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Are you sure? You should go change—“

“It’s fine,” he said, a little more firm this time. There were a myriad of emotions flowing through him.

He’s so mad at you. He should break up with you. You don’t deserve him.

“Alright, son. Take it easy, okay? We are going to go inform the team about…everything.”

Great, now everyone will know. They’ll think you’re pathetic. You will never see another mission again. In fact, you might as well throw trust out the window.

Steve went to leave and Tony followed suit, but not before patting Peter on the shoulder and giving him a paternal look. They both left, leaving you two alone.

There was a long will of silence. It was absolutely awful. Usually, when you two are together, Peter talks incessantly or you two joke around. But this pit of nothing was something you two never experienced before.

You couldn’t bare to sit like a patient any longer.

“Can…can you help me sit up, please?”

“You really need to rest—“

“Please?”

Reluctantly, he held your right arm and helped you sit up. You winced when your sweatpants rubbed against your thighs.

“What’s wrong? What hurts?” Peter asked, eyes scanning you in concern.

“Nothing. Just my arm,” you spoke quickly. You couldn’t look him in the eye. Not with all the lies you’ve told him.

“Your arm didn’t move.”

Can words just form, please.

“Y/N? Are there more? Don’t lie to me.” You still couldn’t meet his gaze, but you could feel his eyes trying to flood into yours.

You sighed, whispering, “They aren’t that bad.”

“Don’t lie. You have to show me, this is important.” He squeezed your hand. “Please.”

Slowly you swung your legs to the side, over the cot to stand. Your legs wobbled a little when you stood and you needed the bed to balance still. Peter was quick to help keep you balanced. You felt your bloodied sleeve sticking to your arm and it made you feel even more icky, but that didn’t matter right now.

Once you stood and had gained your balance, your hands slowly went to the waistline of your sweats. You took a deep breath, briefly flicking your gaze to Peter, who was watching you intently. Shakily, you guided your sweats down to your knees and let them fall. A sharp inhale was heard from in front of you.

“Christ, Y/N.” He was staring. God, you hated that.

Looking down, it looked…well, gross. The cuts were not as severe as your arm, but there were just so many of them. Big, small, long, short. The ones that were on your hips had obviously bled a little more because the light blue underwear you wore was stained on the sides with splotches. Because you half-bandaged your legs, there a was decent amount of dried blood crusted along your leg and the inside of your pants. At this point, nothing was really dripping, it had all hardened, but you knew it would bleed again once it was cleaned. With light grunts, you ripped off the bandages you had put on earlier. With a slight shrug, you both still stood there.

“I can, um, clean it up, I just—just grab me some wipes and some wraps…they won’t need stitches or anything.”

Peter didn’t say anything, but he did move to get the items you needed to clean it. You sat back on the bed while he brought everything to you. With your arm wrapped in a bandage, your movements were stiff, but you manage to take a sterile wipe to your leg. It stung.

“Agh,” you hissed. You didn’t want to move your arms too much with the IV, and you were getting frustrated.

“Let me help—“

“No. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“I want to, Y/N. Just—“ He reached forward and took the wipe from your hand to clean your wounds. As you suspected, some started to bleed again, so he applied some pressure, making you grimace.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Another painful silence. You could tell there was a lot going through Peter’s brain and a part of you just wanted him to yell at you. Confirm your beliefs that you are nothing but  a pathetic and problematic teenager. It seemed like he was almost ready to burst, despite the gentle touch he took with your legs. Taking an internal breath, you looked to speak first.

“Peter, look—“

“Is this why you wouldn’t let me touch you?”

Well, you weren’t expecting that to come out first. “What?”

He paused with his bandaging a moment then resumed.

“We have been together for months now and you never let me touch you. I thought it was me, that you didn’t like it…but was it this?”

Ouch, you are not very subtle. Way to make him feel insecure.

You nodded your head slightly. “Yes.”

Peter finished bandaging and stood, beginning to pace in front of the bed. You stood up to pull your sweats back on.

“I get it if you are angry with me, Peter—“

“Angry? Of course, I am angry!” Peter began, looking right at you. You tensed under his burning stare.

“I am angry at the situation. I am angry I didn’t notice. God, I spend so much time with you and I didn’t even notice like a freaking idiot!” By the end, he was screaming, and it took everything in you not to break down. You were reaching your breaking point.

“But I’m not mad at you, Y/N, no. But I need understand. Why did you hide this from us? From me? We could of helped you before.”

“I don’t need your help…”

“Yes, you do. You can’t keep shoving everything with you under the rug, you have to tell us stuff, it’s what we do. I don’t like nor want to force you to share or do anything you don’t want to, but this was, is serious, Y/N.” You flinched at his harsh tone. He didn’t sound like the bright boy that you were with, he sounded upset and distressed and definitely not sixteen.

He paused. “How long?”

You choke out a response, “A year.”

“Has it ever been this bad?”

“…no.”

Peter pinched his nose, very Tony-like.

“Is it me?” He whispered.

You shot your head up at that. Why on Earth would he think it was him? You loved really liked him. Your eyes widened in disbelief.

“Is it us? Is it our relationship? Because if it is, that’s fine, but I need to know. I just want you to be happy and I’d hate to think you’d do this just because of us.” His voice cracked towards the end and you could see his eyes reddening at the thought.

“No, not at all. It’s not us at all. Why would—“

“Well then I need you to explain! I need to understand why you did this because this was really scary, Y/N. That was terrifying and to think you feel the need to do this doesn’t make sense to me.”

Fuck, you thought. You were never good at putting it to words. It was always strained and jumbled whenever you tried to speak aloud to yourself. How in the world were you going to say it to him?

But he looks so desperate, so wanting to know what you are thinking.

You opened your mouth and closed it a couple of times, trying to start. Every time you opened your mouth, not even air would escape. Peter wasn’t looking at you, anymore, but he seemed to be waiting for something to come from you.

Eventually, you found some words. They were barely audible, but enough.

“It’s just— hard sometimes, okay?”

Peter glanced up at you though you weren’t looking. You still stood still, fists clenched, eyes closed, face looking pained, using all your willpower to explain to your boyfriend what was going on.

“We—we carry a lot of baggage. From what we do, our lives. And I love helping people, saving people, fighting bad guys, I do. But sometimes, it’s just a lot.”

You let out a shaky exhale and kept you fists clenched tight, nails digging in your palms, unwilling to break right now.

“It…is what I need it to be. When I need relief from the stress or whatever. Relief from myself, my own thoughts…I try so hard to do good but I always seem to mess things up, say the wrong things, make the wrong moves, so I…hurt myself to forget, maybe feel less guilty I don’t know. Some days…a lot of days I hate how I look, how I act, what I am doing. And my brain just gets filled with doubt and never fails to remind me of my problems.” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, because that was all you could do. You laughed hard, to the point of pain, and Peter looked at you with so much worry and borderline fear.

“I am pathetic. I’m nothing but a problem. No matter how much I try to fix, I find something else to ruin, whether it’s a mission or fight with the team. And sometimes I try to not beat myself up about it and tell myself it’s not a big deal, but that doesn’t stop me from hating myself. But I am being dramatic, I know I am. It’s stupid and it sucks, god, it sucks, but I just…I can’t stop sometimes.

“When I joined the team and we started dating, it made things easier. You made things better for me. For just a little while, I didn’t feel like nothing. But then it just got worse when things would go wrong and I am so scared of ruining things with you or hurting you or anybody else I care about. And I don’t deserve you at all,” your voice cracked as you tried to continue.

“You’re kind and funny and sweet and no matter what happens to you, you try to look on the bright side and I just don’t understand how you do it. I tried but I can’t. Everything is my fault. I am a burden to everyone. There are so many other better heroes to help people and do what I do than me. And when I remember that…sometimes, I need it to ground me, to keep me here when it’s hard. It just helps in a sick, twisted way that makes me sound fucking crazy. It helps me think, focus, whatever I need in that moment. I know that’s bad, but it just works, okay?”

A beat of silence. No sounds but your now heavier breathing.

“It used to heal quickly, it’d be nothing, but when I needed it more and it became more frequent…it stopped healing as quickly, started scarring. My body got used to it, it was normal…

Tonight, seven innocents died because of me. Seven. And when I saw the team and the looks of anger and disappointment on their faces? I just—“

“What happened wasn’t entirely on you. We didn’t know about the bomb.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I was the reason it went off. Think that deserves a little punishment, don’t you?”

“No,” he retorted, “not like this. This isn’t the answer.”

You stared into each other’s eyes, and for the first time, Peter saw a pain in your eyes. A hurt that you had become master at hiding from the rest of the world. You looked tired.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” He said softly.

You couldn’t help but cross your arms and curl in slightly.

“I am not going to give you my baggage. I don’t need to be a problem more than I have to be. I can handle my own problems. I am not sick.” In saying that, you ripped out the blood IV from your arm, causing Peter to take a step forward.

“Y/N, don’t.”

“No, Peter, no! It’s bad enough I couldn’t even keep this from you guys. All I did was just hurt you all more! You don’t need to worry about me, you should never have to. I’m fine.”

“Y/N, we will always care about you. We want to help you. You are a part of this family we have here.”

You let your head drop hearing him say that. You shook your head in denial, unwilling to allow his voice soften you, not when you didn’t deserve it.

You had to ask, barely getting the words out of your mouth.

“Why do you care? Why don’t you leave me, hate me?”

There was a pause from Peter, and you wouldn’t dare look back at him.

“I love you, Y/N.” You froze. Oh god, you didn’t know what to do with that.

“I know we haven’t been together that long, but I really do love you. You are sweet and selfless and caring. You always want others to feel good and your jokes can light up a room. Even when your quiet, your presence is gentle and easy. And after spending time with you, all it did was confirm how much I am in love with you.”

He’s lying. He pities you.

“The team feels that way, too, y’know. Steve and Mr. Stark love you like your their child, especially Steve even if you think he gives you a hard time. He just wants to make sure you are safe. Nat, Clint, Sam and Bucky, Bruce, all of them. They care about you so so much. You are family, Y/N.”

You looked back up, glossy-eyed, “You shouldn’t care—“

“No. We will always care, Y/N. You are allowed to make mistakes and mess up and say and do the wrong things because we all do it, too. You are allowed to let yourself breathe. But you can’t push me away because I love you, Y/N, and I won’t let you carry your burdens alone anymore.”

You never thought you needed permission to let go, to breathe, to make mistakes because you knew intellectually that you could. But hearing Peter say that, tell you that he loved you, that he is in love with you, finally, finally made your walls crumble.

Suddenly, it was hard to stand and you backed into the wall, curling in on yourself. Your breath hitched and you hiccuped from the tidal wave of emotion hitting you.

“Oh god..” You choked out, failing to hold it together anymore. Peter’s heart shattered at the sight of you so broken. He rushed forward, and as you began to fall, he caught your arms and brought them around his neck as you let out the most gut-wrenching, painful sob you let out in a long time. Your cries were wet, ugly, and loud, but it felt so damn good. Sadness, anger, guilt, regret, all poured out of you into your tears as they streamed down your face, hot and thick. You gripped Peter like your life depended on it. Because in that moment, it did. You needed him more than ever right now and you couldn’t bare the thought of losing him in that moment. You loved him. You barely registered what you were babbling.

“I’msorryI’msorrryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry”

You could feel Peter’s grip tighten around your body, clinging to you as much as you were him. He was whispering to you, trying to calm you.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry. I’ve got you okay? I’m sorry you had to do this alone.”

His words just broke your heart as you sobbed into his shoulder. Your tears soaked his shirt as you struggled. If you paid more attention, you could feel some tears on your shoulder as well, indicating that you weren’t alone in your cries. Your legs gave out under you, and Peter moved down with you as you sank to the floor, Peter gentling scooting you both so you were leaning on the wall beside the bed. Every stroke of Peter’s hand against your arm, your face, your leg, just made you cry more, because you actually felt the love he had for you. He wasn’t lying, he cared as much as he said he did. He really did love you and you simply didn’t know what to do with it.

Failing to calm down, you continued to breath heavily, almost hyperventilating because it was just too much to handle all in a day, an evening. Too many emotions out, secrets revealed, words spoken it was too much, too much, too much, too much, too—

“Y/N? Y/N! I need you to breathe, okay? You’ve gotta breathe.”

Your hands had pulled back into yourself as you cried but Peter still held onto you, trying to get you to breathe.

“C’mon, you’ve gotta breathe, okay?!”

You shook your head rather violently against his chest.

“Noo—don’t wan-t to—t-too much,” was all you could get out. You were feeling light-headed again and it was a lot to handle.

“I know, baby, I know, but you have to, okay? No exceptions, just focus on me, okay?”

You tried hard to focus on him, but you were in hysterics. You couldn’t do this.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t, I can’t, I’m sorry.”

Peter was starting to panic, but he was determined to help you.

“C’mon, Y/N, yes you can.” He pulled your left hand carefully from your chest, kissing your hand before setting it on his chest.

“Just breathe like me, okay? In for 3…hold, and out. Do it again.”

To say you struggled was an understatement, but slowly, you could follow his breathing pattern. It started erratic but slowly came to match his. Your sobs softened to occasional hiccups, and the hand Peter placed on his chest was now gripping the fabric of his shirt. You could feel the warmth that radiated off of him.

You don’t know how long you sat there for, holding each other, but eventually someone opened the door and rushed to the other side of the bed. Steve. His eyes softened at the sight of you and Peter crumpled into a pile of limbs on the ground, tangled together. You were breathing normally, deep and slow, half-sleep on Peter. Peter was awake, eyes red, softly stroking your hair, lips pressed to your forehead, hands supporting your back and legs in his lap.

“Peter…” Steve began, “Tony is waiting outside with a change of clothes for you. You should go and change, I’ll stay with her.”

You could feel Peter tighten his grip slightly in hesitance, scared to let you go, as if you would wither to dust if he didn’t hold on.

“…it’s okay,” you whispered. He couldn’t stay with you forever.

Slowly, Peter and you sat up, and he picked you up, bridal-style, to place you back on the bed. He pulled away and you immediately felt so cold. As he walked around the bed to leave, you couldn’t help but catch his wrist again. He turned back to look at you.

For once, you let yourself do the pleading, “Come back, please.”

He stepped forward to kiss your hand. “I promise. I’ll be quick.” And with a last look, he walked out, leaving you and Steve in the room together. You stared at the door for a moment before turning back to look at Steve, who was leaning on the bed, sitting on a nearby chair. He held some clothes in his lap.

“I brought some of your clothes for you to change into.” You looked at them. Of course, a short sleeve oversized shirt that you recognized to be Peter’s that you definitely stole at one point and some shorts. Not short shorts, but ones that fell mid thigh.

After everything that happened, you were just so drained and didn’t feel like moving. Steve had seen you in a sports bra and spandex so this was no different in your head. Maybe because you were at your wit’s end, but your biggest secret was out, so there was no need to hide anymore.

While sitting up in bed, you shuffled to take off your pants. Steve realized and quickly turned away to try and give some privacy, but not before he noticed the bandages on your thighs. He hadn’t seen those before. Still, he remained quiet and turned away. You peeled your blood-soaked shirt off your body, looking at the dried ring of blood on your upper arm from the sleeve being rolled up for so long. When you took it off, the sleeve didn’t change shape much and you tossed it in front of you. You tugged the t-shirt onto yourself, thankful it smelled like Peter.

“You can turn around now,” you said, low and raspy. Your throat hoarse from crying. Steve turned back to look at you with sad eyes, weary. You moved your vision to the wall in front of you. For a moment, you both sat in quiet. For once, you think you left Steve speechless, unknowing of what to tell you. Nothing could be said to make it better, though, so you supposed it was okay.

“Y/N, I—“

You looked back at Steve, who looked at you with foreign uncertainty.

“I’m sorry. For making you feel like you couldn’t talk to me—“

“Don’t,” you interrupted, “ S’ not your fault. Don’t…blame yourself for it. For this. Please.”

You doubted Steve would be able to follow that, given his guilt complex, but he did reach for your hand, which you accepted. He smiled softly.

“I’ll try.”

You were content with that. Him stroking your hand with your thumb, giving off a surprising amount of paternal care. You knew there was much to be discussed. So much seemed to be flashing through his brain, but semi-comfortable silence is what you both needed in the moment.

* * * * * * *

Peter walked out the room, eyes red and tired. But he promised he would come back and he already missed you. As Steve said, Tony was waiting for him, hands in pocket.

“Hey, Pete,” he said, setting a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“I figured you’d like to get changed, maybe shower. Come up to my floor, some of your stuff is there.” He didn’t understand the need to go all the way up to the penthouse, but Tony figured he could use a break from the blank walls of medbay. Tony guided Peter to the elevator that opened at their approach.

“J, my floor, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

The elevator moved slowly, and Peter and Tony faced forward. Peter, however, was lost in thought about what just happened.

You were bleeding. Nearly dying. Trying to kill yourself, maybe? Not intentionally, he guessed. But you were in pain. So much pain and he didn’t even notice. Not until he was begging you to step off the roof. Until you needed stitches for the—oh god. They were so bad, it was so bad, that was terrifying. He couldn’t believe he did that. How did he even do that?

“J, stop the elevator,” Peter heard Tony say. It hadn’t occurred to him that his breath had quickened slightly and tears filled the brims of his eyes.

Tony put a hand on Peter, “Talk to me, kid.”

He let out a soft sob,

“It was so bad, Mr. Stark.”

His voice cracked at the end and he couldn’t hold it together anymore. Another louder sob escaped his lips and he felt himself being pulled into a warm embrace by Tony. He wrapped his arms around the man and just let himself cry.

“Mr. Stark,” he croaked, “She—she just, oh my god, I-I can’t..”

“Shhh, it’s okay, Pete, it’s okay. I am so proud of you.”

He continued to cry into his shoulder as he finally got to be the one comforted. It was well earned.

“You handled that situation so well. Put all of Steve’s speeches to shame. Could give him a run for his money,” he joked, emitting a small laugh that sounded more of a choked sob from Peter.

Watching you in that state broke both of them, but Tony couldn’t imagine how Peter felt after all of that. He loved that girl, as much as he refused to admit it. That must have hurt.

Peter buried his face into Tony’s chest. “I can’t lose her, Tony. I can’t.”

“You won’t, Peter. She’ll be okay. It’s okay.”

They hugged for a good while, Peter’s cries becoming soft sniffles. He pulled away eventually, looking at Tony.

“I need to get back to her.”

“Ok, kiddo. J, keep going, would ya?”

The elevator continued moving, and Tony kept his arm wrapped around Peter for the rest of the ride up. When the doors opened, Peter rushed inside, running to shower and change. He tried not to think about it too much as he watched your blood wash down the drain. Showering and changing in record time, he walked out where Tony gave him a glass of water. Peter chugged it down quickly, thanking him before racing back to the elevator to get back to you.

* * * * * * *

After you changed, Steve grabbed a damp cloth to wipe the dried blood on your arms and legs. He had also removed the sheets with blood and grabbed an extra blanket for you in the cabinet, helping you feel more comfortable. He felt it was the least he could do.

Once he helped you settle, you laid there quietly, exhausted but unwilling to sleep. Not yet, anyways.

“Do I have to stay in here?” You asked.

“Just for tonight. Cho is gonna see you tomorrow to check your wounds and talk…about some other things.”

You scoffed. You knew what that meant. Medication, depression, suicide watch, psychiatrist appointments. You didn’t want any of it. It made you feel weak and powerless. Like you couldn’t even take care of yourself.

“I am not sick,” you said, staring up the ceiling.

“We know you’re not, but you do need help. It’s okay to need help sometimes. Especially with this type of job.”

You knew Steve didn’t exactly approve of you working as an Avenger in the same way that he didn’t approve of Peter being an Avenger when he found he was a teen. But he knew you were headstrong just like him, unwilling to turn away from a fight.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you will always have us when you need us, and I am ready to hear out when you’re comfortable with talking. I’ll wait for you.”

That took a weight off your shoulders, knowing Steve would be willing to wait for you to open up to him. It eased the ache in your chest. You took in a deep breath.

“You should try and sleep. It’s late, almost 2 AM.”

2 AM? A lot more time has passed than you thought. It all seemed to move so fast before.

Before you could respond to Steve, the door opened again to reveal a changed and freshly washed Peter moving towards you.

“Hey,” he sighed, pressing his lips to your forehead, “I’m back.” As selfish as it was, you couldn’t help but be happy that he was back in the room with you.

“Can I stay with her tonight?” Peter asked Steve.

“Of course, Peter. I will leave you two alone. Alert JARVIS should you need anything.”

Peter nodded, and as Steve left you quickly said, “Thanks, Steve.” His eyes were lightly glossy but he still smiled at you.

“Anytime.” And he walked out the door.

Peter turned back to look at you, and without wasting another second, he kicked off his shoes and crawled into the cot with you. It wasn’t super big, but big enough to hold the both of you in the bed together, wrapped in the blanket. He made sure to maneuver so that you were on his left side, your right arm up along the bed, your left splayed across his chest. You rested your head across his chest and settled into his arms that encompassed you. It felt so easy, if not for but a minute. Like nothing happened, like you were back upstairs, in bed, watching a movie. So many words were spoken today, and this time, the silence seemed to be what you both needed, allowing yourselves to bask in each other’s presence and be content with the moment. However, there was still one thing on your mind.

You lifted your head gently to look at Peter, who looked back at you, albeit a little awkwardly given the proximity of your faces. You couldn’t believe he loved you. And you didn’t realize you wanted it or how much you felt the same way. Maybe it was time to stop trying to hide those feelings away.

“What is it?” Peter asked, staring back at you.

Instead of speaking, you rose your hand up to gently cup his face and guided his lips to yours. The kiss was chaste, but it gave you enough courage to say what you had truly been feeling. Pulling back, you looked Peter in the eyes, gaze unfaltering, as you said:

“I love you, too.”

Small tears sprung to Peter’s eyes as he let out a genuine laugh and kissed you again, more passionate and earnest. The feeling of it between you two capturing all the words unsaid, the feelings, the love, shared between you two. And it made your heart flutter.

After a moment, you two stopped to catch your breath, foreheads resting on each others’ for a second before returning your head to his chest, beyond relieved and truly happy. You knew that tomorrow would be another fit of emotions and tension, stress. Conversations that you absolutely despised were inevitable, but you didn’t care about any of that right now. All you needed was holding you in his arms, and you thought that just maybe this time, everything would be okay, now that there is someone there to catch you when you fall.

* * * * * * *

When Steve returned to the communal floor, he was surprised to see Tony there. The team had long since gone to sleep, even after they told the team of what happened. They figured it best not to bombard you with people and move slow for now. It was all so fresh.

Tony sat on the couch with a bottle of Scotch and two glasses, as if he knew Steve could use a drink. Even if it didn’t get him drunk, he liked to think it took the edge off.

With a sigh, he sat on the couch, grabbing the glass in front of him to take a sip of the hard liquor. It still burned on its way down.

“Thanks Tony.”

“Anytime.”

There was a lot to say, but that seemed like a deal for tomorrow. For now, they just needed the quiet.

“What are we gonna do?” Tony said aloud.

Steve sighed. “I have no idea.”

“You think they’ll be okay?”

Steve thought back to his last glances at the door, watching Peter ever so carefully move to lay with Y/N. He smiled at the thought of them.

“Yeah, they will be.”

Fin.