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No one thinks that Peter’s injuries leave scars. He wasn’t sure where the idea came from, but he remembers the day he finally figured out what everyone thought was common knowledge. It was after a mission where he and the other Avengers were in the quinjet heading back to the Avengers tower when it was brought up. He was propped up against the wall, sitting on one of the far too comfortable benches.
Steve was inspecting a gash on his arm as Natasha stitched it up for him, turning his attention to Peter. “Hey at least this won’t leave a mark,” he joked.
Peter’s brows knitted in confusion. “You don’t get scars?” he asked.
Tony, who had been sitting across from him, immediately turned his attention towards Peter with a look of growing panic. It wasn't something that Peter first recognized when he started hanging out with the man. It was a skill that grew with all the time he spent with his mentor; being able to read the emotions hidden within the lines of his face. “You do?”
Peter realized his mistake when more attention turned on him. He was quick to take it back. “No! No I don’t either, I just didn’t realize you were similar in that sense,” he said, thinking to the myriad of scars that littered his body, each mark telling a story, each mark somehow hidden beneath his clothes, which was a blessing in disguise.
He always had some scars. After becoming spiderman, though, that number rose quite a bit, and was becoming a bit hard to hide them all during school so that he didn’t have to keep on making excuses. He started wearing long sleeves pretty much exclusively, and taking to wearing joggers instead of shorts like he would wear pre-bite.
Later that day when Steve was in a short sleeve shirt, Peter finally noticed that his arms were completely bare of any marks, the wound from their mission already fading away. Peter felt a pang of jealousy, sparing a glance at his hoodie that he was wearing.
After that, it just became something that he never brought up. It wasn’t like he was ashamed of his scars. In fact, he was rather proud of them; each one told a story of his mission and patrols, the lives he’s saved and how he continued living.
Don't get him wrong, he's considered telling the Avengers the truth. Really! He has! It’s just- he remembers the panic in Tony’s eyes in the jet. He didn’t want to see the pity or guilt in his mentor’s eyes if he saw visible reminders to all the times that Peter had gotten hurt.
So he kept wearing long sleeves to hide stuff like the scar from a stitched up bullet wound on his left bicep, right above his elbow. The scar stretched at his skin whenever his arm was perfectly straight, something that he’s had to get used to. It was a weird feeling at first, something that his heightened senses didn't like.
He kept his shirt on at all times to hide the scars that littered his torso and back. The four slash marks from an alien with claws. The deep scar running across his shoulder from a stab wound during a robbery. The only person that knew about all his scars was already sworn to secrecy, which suddenly made it feel lonely.
---
“I’m screwed, Ned,” Peter complained, draping his body over Ned’s bed as his friend sat in his chair, watching Peter’s dramatics with no remorse whatsoever.
“It’s a pool party. With the Avengers! What is bad about that?” Ned had been over the moon when Peter told him that he was invited to a pool party at Tony’s house that weekend, where most if not all of the Avengers would be present.
It sounded incredible. Except for one problem. “Um, maybe this?” Peter asked, gesturing towards his arms that were left bare due to the short sleeved shirt he was wearing, which he now took to only wearing in Ned's room and his own. Ned wasn’t new to Peter’s scars. Since he was the only person now that Peter could tell him about, he got to see as Peter bragged about how badass it looked to have a bullet scar. He was sure it worried his frined just a little, but he had to tell someone about them, or else he felt like he was going to go crazy.
“I still don’t know why you keep that from them. Aren’t they all superheroes? I’m pretty sure Tony has a ton of scars too, right?” Ned asked.
“I mean, yeah, but they all think that I don’t have scars. I don’t want them to realize that they were wrong about that because then they get all concerned and Mr. Stark ends up looking at me like he just kicked a kitten and I can’t deal with that,” Peter rambled.
“Just say that you’re self conscious about your body or something. Maybe say that you have a sunburn and don’t want to make it worse.”
Peter snapped his fingers, leaping off of Ned’s bed. “That’s it! I’m just going to say that I got a sunburn the day before and don’t want to upset it. You’re a genius, Ned.”
Ned laughed. “That’s what the guy in the chair is for, after all.”
The two fell in silence for a second, before...
"Wait, you have enhanced healing."
"Shit."
---
Standing in front of the Avengers Compound that also doubled as Tony’s place of residence, he was suddenly feeling a lot more unsure about his plan. He was wearing a long sleeve swim shirt with joggers on, and all he could think about was how many ways this plan could go wrong.
He was never self conscious about his scars before, but all at once he wished that he could make them disappear. All he could think about was that if they saw his scars, they would see how many times he’d failed. How many times he couldn’t dodge a hit. Maybe they would be reminded that he’s still a kid and think they have to take it easy on him.
Peter couldn’t stand in front of the door forever, though. Not with Friday content with reporting his strange behavior to Tony who would get concerned, and Peter doesn’t know if he would be able to hold up to questioning from Tony.
So he walked inside with a spider man towel thrown over his shoulder; a gift from Happy when he saw it in a store one day and then chucked it at Peter's face when he picked him up from school later that day.
“Peter!” Tony greeted when Peter stepped out back. Before he knew it, his meteor’s arms were wrapping around him, drawing him in close. All at once, Peter’s anxieties melted away, and he sunk into Tony’s arms.
Tony dragged away and looked over Peter with a concerned frown. “You alright, kid?” he asked.
Peter nodded, perhaps too quickly, if the suspicious glint in Tony’s eyes were anything to go off of. “Yeah, just had a rough morning. Burnt myself on the coffee pot.” It wasn’t technically a lie, he did burn himself making May coffee in the morning.
Tony chuckled. "That's why you leave the coffee making to the caffeine addicted adults." He led Peter further into the huge backyard, where other Avengers were already chatting amongst themselves and having a good time.
There was a giant pool, along with an in pool bar as well as a fully functional outside bar, stocked with a grill and full size fridge. There was also a large seating area, with a gazebo built over top and fans turned on to keep it cool. Peter headed towards the shade, where Natasha was sitting with a glass of red wine in her hand. She gave Peter a warm smile when he walked over.
After dropping off his stuff on one of the many couches, Peter was led over towards the pool and pool chairs.
“I’m going to get some more fruit from inside. There’s alcohol free beverages on the top of the fridge if you want something besides water,” Tony said before heading away. Peter chuckled at the stern look that was sent his way when he made a dramatic grab for a drink on the lower shelf.
“Hey Peter!” a voice called from the pool. Steve was hanging near the edge of the pool, talking animatedly to Bucky who had his metal arm off. Peter’s eyes caught on the scars stretching over his open expanses of skin, both jealous and pitiful of the sight.
“Hey Steve, Bucky,” Peter called back.
“Come get in the pool, it’s too damn hot out here to not be in the shade or the water,” Bucky said, sending a splash of water towards Peter, who laughed awkwardly as he tried to come up with a response, his heart pounding uneededly fast in his ears.
“I think I’m going to get a snack first,” Peter said, hurrying away before they could talk to him again. He felt a stab of guilt in his chest, but shook it off as he continued walking, hearing the two of them start up their conversation again behind him.
The pool party continued on, most of the adults getting more and more drunk as drinks were drained. Pretty much everyone was in the pool at that point, but Peter had been doing pretty well at avoiding his fate, even if he was sweating up a storm underneath his clothes.
That was, until they got Tony to start peer pressuring him as well. His greatest weakness.
“Come on kid, you’re not waterphobic or anything are ya? Is this a spider thing that I don’t know about?” Tony asked when Peter denied joining them in the pool for the third time in the past thirty minutes.
“Nope. I just wanted to enjoy the heat so that the water felt all the more nice,” he said, a flimsy excuse. He got a couple weird looks, but no one said anything. Not when he finally caved and took off his joggers so that he was in his swim trunks, his long sleeve compression shirt staying on.
He rushed into the water, canon balling in so that no one would have too long to see the stretching scar on his right leg from when Vulture dropped a building on him. It looks just as bad as it had felt to receive it, and sometimes when Peter looked at the deep scar tissue he could hear his screams from that night.
He shivered underwater, not cold in the slightest.
When Peter re emerged to the surface, Tony was hollering dramatically and Bucky was laughing loudly, a couple drinks into the vintage bourbon that had been brought to the party by him. It wasn’t enough that he was impaired, just enough that everything was ten times funnier to the past soldier.
“See? Was that so hard? Are you going to keep the shirt on, though? It might be a bit hot,” Tony asked, eyeing the black sleeves and looking at the sun like it personally offended him.
Peter shrugged. “I’d rather get a bit hot in the pool than get sunburnt.” He was proud with how clean the lie came off.
Tony seemed to accept it with an exasperated huff, ruffling the boy's hair. From there, the shenanigans only continued. Once he was in the pool, Peter found that his anxieties lessened by a lot. He wasn’t worried about anyone seeing his secrets, and was more focused on having fun.
Hours passed by in the span of minutes, and by the time everyone had eventually made their way out of the pool, Peter was tired. The sun drained his energy, along with his past anxiety. That and the swim race he had with Steve to see which of them would be fastest.
“I already called your aunt, she said it’s cool if you spend the night here,” Tony said, handing Peter his towel as he stepped out of the pool.
Peter yawned, giving the man a quick “thank you,” as he headed towards his room so that he could dry off and change clothes before joining the others in what was probably going to end up being a movie night with Chinese food takeout.
Peter pulled off his shirt, wincing when the wet fabric clung to his arms and head, making it a pain to take off. There was a prickling of his spider senses that were likely caused by the sudden feeling of claustrophobia, and Peter was happy when he was finally free of the wet fabric prison.
When his sensitive hearing picked up a sudden sharp inhale of breath, he realized that his spider senses weren’t perking up because of the shirt. Peter whirled around to see Tony staring at him with wide, scared eyes. When he got a look at Peter’s bare chest, his jaw dropped and a hand raced up to cover his mouth. There was no attempting to neutralize his expression, so Peter could see every flash of emotion in his mentor's eyes.
Peter panicked. “I’m so sorry. This- it isn’t what it looks like. I mean, it is, but I didn’t mean-”
Tony thankfully cut off his nervous rambling. “Peter, this is. Shit, man. Are these all from being spiderman?”
Feeling exposed, Peter’s shoulders hiked up to his ears as he shrugged, thoroughly avoiding meeting Tony’s eyes.
“Yeah. Most of them, at least.”
Tony took a step closer, and Peter knew that he was looking at it all. At the scars from the alien attack, the bullet wound on his forearm, the deep scar on his leg, and so many more from all of his past injuries.
“Why didn’t you tell us that you get scars? You told us that they didn’t stay.” Peter was expecting some kind of anger, for being kept out of the loop. The hurt tone of Tony’s voice hurt him so much more than his anger ever would have. It was almost accusing, though Tony was being painfully nice.
“When I found out that Cap didn’t, I figured I might as well keep the narrative as well. I didn’t want to worry you guys.”
“Didn’t want to- kid, we were there when you got a lot of these. Besides there’s nothing wrong with the scars.” Tony searched Peter’s face, seeming to find something there. “Gosh, is this why you were so hesitant to go in the pool?”
Peter’s silence told him everything.
“Underoos. You know all of us have scars right? Even Steve has scars, his are just pre serum and probably a shit ton of mental scars. There’s nothing wrong with them.”
“I know that. I just, I didn’t want you guys to be reminded of all the times that I failed. I used to like them, but I guess the longer I kept them hidden the less I was sure of that,” Peter admitted.
Tony tugged the boy into a hug, scars and all. “Well I think they make you look badass.”
“They don’t stress you out?”
Tony shrugged. “I mean, I hate remembering the pain that I saw you in, but it’s gone now. It reminds me of how strong you are.”
Peter smiled widely, a tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he breathed out in relief. “I think I needed to hear that,” he said.
"Plus, you kind of always stress me out. That's my job," he continued. Peter laughed, nudging the man in the shoulder.
Tony smiled softly. Then, without much preamble, he shifted through his dresser, brows pulling together when he realized that the majority of Peter’s shirts now consisted of long sleeves. Tony wondered when that happened; why he didn’t notice.
His mentor finally found a short sleeved shirt in the bottom of the drawer and threw it at Peter, who caught it without a second thought. He inspected the shirt with a frown, anxiety fluttering in his stomach.
“You sure?” he asked, knowing what Tony wanted.
Tony’s eyes softened. “I mean, if you’re not ready then it’s okay, we’ll take this at your pace. But I think you need to know that it’s completely fine to have scars, and there’s no time like the present.”
Peter put on the short sleeve shirt with butterflies born from anxiety fluttering in his stomach. He knew that it wasn’t a big deal, that the other Avengers would react just as positively as Tony did, but he couldn’t help but dread walking out into the main room.
Tony gave him an encouraging look when the shirt was on, his eyes falling to the scars on his arms.
“You can ask,” Peter said, knowing the inquisitive look from when Ned would catch sight of a new scar that he didn’t know the story to.
“What is the story of some of these? I don’t remember all of them.” Tony pointed towards a smaller scar on the back of his left arm, and Peter shivered at the fact that his scars were out in the open after so long of keeping them hidden.
“Well this one was actually before the bite. I fell off a tree and scraped myself going down. Then you know the bullet wound from that one fight, and there’s this,” he continued, pulling up the sleeve to show the scar on his shoulder. “Is from a stab wound.”
“Oh!” Peter perked up, suddenly excited to finally show someone else his scars. “This one is from when Toomes dropped a building on me. Looks pretty badass, right?” His voice trailed off in the end, suddenly feeling more unsure when he realized how Tony reacted in the first place to him finally talking about his homecoming experience.
To his relief, Tony just smiled, though there was still worry lingering in his eyes. “You look like a hardened hero, kid. You ready to head out there?” Tony asked.
Peter took a steadying breath, and nodded.
"I'll let you change out of your swim shorts then you meet me out there."
---
The walk to the living room was both the shortest and longest walk of his life. He could already hear everyone in the room; Bucky’s loud laughter and Steve’s quieter smirking. He could hear Natasha talking to Clint and Bruce, and the TV droning on in the background.
He felt so exposed. With another assuring look from Tony, who dutifully walked behind him the entire walk, he entered the room.
At first it was fine. Everyone was so engaged in what they were doing that no one paid attention to the rimrod straight Peter who was practically shaking with anxiety, sparing only a quick welcome before continuing what they were doing.
It made Peter relax more, realizing that the entire room wasn’t going to immediately stop everything upon his entrance and realize that he was exposed. Vulnerable.
It was Clint that noticed first. Peter took a seat down on the couch with Tony pressed up next to his side. His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing, and he couldn’t focus on anything happening around him with the anxiety built up in his chest.
“Holy shit man! I didn’t realize you look so hardcore,” he said, gesturing to the large scar on Peter’s leg. When Peter sputtered, Clint’s face immediately dropped. “Was I not supposed to say something? I’m so sorry.”
Peter waved him off easily, despite the way that his chest was twisting in tight circles. “No it’s fine. I just don’t usually show them, so I guess I’m not used to it,” Peter admitted, feeling it would be best to be honest.
“That’s fair. I remember how hard it was for my kids to start pointing out my scars. It made me realize how often I was almost taken from them. You’re still you, though.” By now more people tuned into the two’s conversation.
Natasha was the first to chime in. “I agree with Clint. We all have our fair share of scars. Besides Mr. Perfect overthere,” she added with a smirk, gesturing towards Steve, who looked over with offense.
“Thanks,” Peter said quietly, rubbing his hands over his arms and retreating further into Tony’s side, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders, welcoming him easily.
“You lied about not getting scars?” Steve asked.
“Kind of. I just, you brought it up and I realized that I wanted to go with the narrative. I’m sorry.”
Steve immediately shook his head. “That’s your story and your body. You can say whatever you want. I’m proud that you feel comfortable showing them now, though. I’m glad you trust us with this.”
If there was a way to melt into the couch, Peter wished he could do it. A blush crept up to his cheek, and Tony finally found the kid relaxed enough to start teasing him to lighten the mood in the room.
“Petey didn’t want to risk putting Bucky to shame with the amount of scars that he has,” he said. Laughter rose around the room, and Peter’s shoulders dropped.
“With how clumsy Peter is I wouldn’t be surprised if over half of his scars are from stupid shit,” Bruce chimed in, knowing first hand how often the kid ended up in med bay because he did something dumb out of suit or simply tripped over something.
The conversation moved on from there, everyone sharing embarrassing stories of times that they got hurt, both in and out of patrol. Peter let out a real breath since when he walked into the room, and Tony rubbed his shoulder.
“Thank you,” Peter said quietly, not wanting to disrupt the conversation.
“Hey, you did all the work here. I just told you what you needed to hear.”
“Still. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you,” Peter said honestly.
Tony’s eyes softened, and he threw an arm around Peter, drawing him in closer. “I’m so proud of you, kid.”