Work Text:
It had been a terrible day, and though Peter was no stranger to bad luck, the fear clawing at him now was something he wasn’t used to. The sheer horror that had gripped him all day showed no sign of easing.
The cause for this?
The source of Peter’s biggest shame.
Somebody named ‘Skip’.
Peter was hyperventilating when he learned that today, Steven Westcott had gotten out of jail. And, of course, there was nothing else he could do.
The only people Peter had ever told about what Skip did to him were May and Ben. After all of that, he was way too embarrassed, way too ashamed to tell May about Skip’s release.
He couldn’t go to Tony. What would the man think of him? It was his fault. His fault his fault his fault his fault his fault his fault his fault his fault-
Steven ‘Skip’ Westcott. The man who was once the brother Peter never had.
It had been one cold autumn evening when Peter had met Skip in a library. Aunt May and Uncle Ben had been skeptical, sure, but both had soon grown to love the guy.
And it wasn’t until Skip had started babysitting him had something happened.
Skip had shown him magazines. Peter didn’t know what they were, but they made him feel… icky.
And even worse when Skip said he wanted to try doing the stuff in the magazines.
“It won’t hurt,” Skip had smiled. “You trust me, don’t you, Einstein?”
Peter, terrified and confused, had said yes, scared of losing his friend.
But Skip had been lying.
It did hurt.
And afterward, while showering, he’d scrubbed his skin ‘til it was red. He was a child. An innocent, small child. He had no clue what Skip had done. All he knew was the weird, disgusting feeling in his chest, sitting like a weight, making it hard to breathe.
Skip had done it again and again and again, until Peter finally gathered the courage to talk to Aunt May and Uncle Ben.
They had reacted in a way Peter hadn’t understood back then. He had come to them with confusion, fear. But the moment his aunt and uncle had heard, they cried, told him everything would be alright.
Peter had a dreadful feeling in his gut, telling him they were lying.
Which turned out to be partially true as Peter grew up and realized what he had gone through. The only good thing that had come out of that whole situation was Skip going to prison; he wouldn’t be able to hurt other kids.
Peter thought, better him than anyone else. If he had to endure this, so another child wouldn’t, it had been worth it, just to send Skip to prison.
At the same time, there was just this pure, unfiltered rage in his chest that he constantly carried. Rage at Skip, rage at the world, the universe.
Rage at the fact that his childhood, his innocence, had been ripped from his bare hands at the mere age of 7, when he should’ve been in the playground with his friends, or having play-dates.
Not… this.
Peter’s rage was consuming him, along with his grief for what could’ve been if not for Skip.
And now, a third emotion had been added to the mix: fear. Fear, because Skip was out of jail. Fear, because this was the scene of his nightmares.
Thanking the universe it was Friday night, and May had a double-shift, Peter put on his Spider-Man suit and swung out of his window. He needed to distract himself.
Sadly enough, it was quickly proven that patrol didn’t help in the slightest. Quite the opposite; it had sent him down a spiral.
What kind of hero am I if I couldn’t defend myself from one stupid teenager? What kind of hero lets that happen? And worse, why didn’t I report him sooner? How many people- how many kids could’ve gotten hurt in that period of time?!
And, somehow, Peter found himself in the Tower.
“Fuck.”
He could leave, but no, Tony would question him.
He could go in, but he had to pretend, and it wouldn’t be easy. He was trembling, bordering on hyperventilating. It was very obvious he wasn’t okay.
He obviously couldn’t confess. What would Tony think of him? What about the Avengers?
“Spider-Man, boss requests your presence upstairs,” FRIDAY’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“Oh, uh, tell him I’m on my way,” Peter stumbled over his words.
After a brief moment, the AI’s voice rang out again.
“Done.”
Peter stepped into the elevator, cracking his knuckles. The skin-tight suit was becoming too much, the lights too bright, the whirring of the elevator too loud-
“Pete!” Tony greeted him with a smile. “Capsicle, Bucky, Natasha, Clint, and Bruce are here.”
“Oh, that’s great,” Peter forced a smile.
Tony’s gaze lingers on him for a moment too long before the man turns away.
“Come on,” Tony said, “we’re having movie night.”
And that was how Peter ended up sitting down and watching a movie with the Avengers. Which, Tony had chosen Final Destination to culture Steve a little, a choice Peter agreed to whole-heartedly.
It was a nice distraction, one that Peter welcomed… at least while it lasted.
His phone chimed. He took it out of his pocket, not thinking much of it at first.
It was an unknown number.
‘Hey Einstein, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, you were young and confused. Meet me at the public library tomorrow.’
Peter froze, eyes wide, staring at his phone. He didn’t know how long he stayed frozen, but enough so that the others noticed.
“Pete?” Tony frowned, turning to him. “Peter, what’s- Bruce, pause the movie- what’s wrong?”
Peter quickly shut his phone off.
“Uh- um, it- it’s nothing, M- Mr. Stark, I- I swear,” Peter stuttered, his heart beating rapidly against his chest.
“Kid-” Tony tried.
“I’m fine! It’s fine, Mr. Stark-”
“Calm down. Peter, take a deep breath,” Tony ordered, and Peter didn’t understand why until he realized he was gasping for air between words.
“M- Mr. Stark-” Peter choked out.
“Shh, I’m here, just breathe, kid. Okay? In and out, in and out, there ya go — attaboy,” Tony teased weakly.
“Do you need anything, Peter?” Steve asked quietly.
“N-no, no thank you, Mr. Captain America, sir,” Peter stammered.
“Enough with the hero worship, kid. I thought I was your favorite Avenger,” Tony teased, with more confidence this time.
“You are, sir, it’s just-”
“Ah-ah-ah,” Tony stopped him, raising an eyebrow. “None of this ‘sir’ stuff. I only let that crap slide a few moments ago because you were panicking.”
“Sorry,” Peter mumbled, cracking his knuckles as a nervous habit.
There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke.
“What happened? You saw something on your phone. What was it?” Natasha asked bluntly.
“N- nothing,” Peter stuttered, looking like a deer in headlights.
“Peter, please. I know that you’re not very close to anyone of us except for Tony, but give us a chance. You can trust us,” Clint spoke gently.
Peter could once again feel his heart hammering against his chest.
“Thank you, but I- I can’t.”
“You can’t? Now that’s some interesting wording,” Natasha raised her eyebrows.
“I don’t mean it like that. I can, I just… would rather not to,” Peter tried to dismiss it quickly.
Because while, yes, Skip had told him it was ‘their little secret’, Peter had already broken that promise long ago. There was nothing stopping him from telling the people who cared so much about him.
“Then, tell us. If it’s affecting you so badly, I don’t believe you should get a choice,” Tony spoke.
“Tony, please-”
“Kid, this is for your own good. What did you see on your phone that had you shaken up this badly?”
“It’s nothing!”
“Would you like to talk to one of us privately?” Bruce spoke quietly.
“Or maybe we could stop nagging the kid?” Bucky offered.
“Not the time, Barnes,” Tony nearly growled.
“I- I agree with Mr. Barnes,” Peter’s voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t- I don’t want to-”
“It’s okay,” Bucky said with an oddly kind tone of voice.
Peter nodded, avoiding everyone’s gazes. Silence filled the air before Peter’s phone made another buzzing sound, causing the boy to flinch violently, staring at the phone as if it was a bomb.
“Peter.” It was Tony’s voice, firm, yet gentle.
“It’s nothing,” Peter murmured, frighteningly close to tears.
“Look at the notification,” Natasha spoke, her tone cold. “If it really is nothing, you can look at the notification, can’t you?”
Peter finally looked up, eyes filled with fear, such an odd sight for the brave boy. But that was what he was after all. Just a boy. A kid.
With a small nod, Peter picked his phone up, looking at the notification.
‘Petey, if you’re not going to answer me, I’ll go to your aunt and uncle. I’m worried, you know.’
“No,” Peter let out a choked gasp, causing the Avengers in the room to tense.
“Peter,” Tony said, his tone no-nonsense. “Who’s texting you?”
“Just an old friend,” Peter blurted out, despising himself for it.
Skip was no friend. He was a monster.
“What’d they say?” Natasha questioned.
“Nothing important.” Peter’s voice was shaking, not a lot, but enough for them to catch on.
“Pete, please-” Steve tried.
“I- I- can I talk to one of you privately?” Peter asked, dizzy from the sheer amount of emotion coursing through him.
“Of course,” Tony spoke without hesitance. “Who do you want to talk to?”
“Uh, Mr. Barton, you- you have kids, right?” Peter sounded small, scared, more like a child than he ever had — as if Skip had never stolen his innocence, his childhood, in the first place.
“Yes,” Clint said quickly. “You can talk to me, that’s no problem.”
“O-okay. Um, privately. Please.”
Tony and Clint shared a brief look before Peter and the archer made their way into an empty room.
“What happened?” Clint murmured quietly, watching Peter intently.
“I- I need your help. The- the Avengers’,” Peter whispered, eyes blurring with tears, shame and embarrassment pooling in his gut.
“Okay,” Clint said smoothly, “nothing wrong with that. But why?”
“I- when I was seven years old, I- I met this guy named Steven. He told me to call him ‘Skip’. He- he was nice to me, you know? He was kind, he tutored me, he babysat me,” Peter’s voice grew hysteric as he went on. “Then, one day, he- Mr. Barton, he- he pulls out a magazine and- and tells me he wants to recreate the pictures with me. As- as payback for being so nice.”
Understanding dawned in Clint’s eyes, followed closely by horror.
“And- and that went on, for- for months, until- until I told my aunt and uncle, and he- and he went to jail! And I thought that was it!” Peter laughed hysterically. “And- and then I found out he was released through bail!”
Clint freezed as his horror grew, nausea tugging at his gut, but Peter continued.
“And- and now, he texted me, telling me- oh, fuck, Mr. Barton, he- he’s going to my Aunt May! What- what do I do?!”
“O-okay, Peter, calm down. We- we’ll handle this, okay? We’re the adults in this situation, we’re responsible. And this never should’ve happened. You’re a wonderful kid. You didn’t deserve that. Nobody deserves that. I’m so sorry,” Clint said quietly, genuinity dripping off each word.
“Thank you,” Peter let out a small, quiet sob.
Clint stood awkwardly, knowing he probably shouldn’t try to touch the boy.
“I need to go tell the others. Is that okay?” Clint asked, but Peter knew it was only for pleasantries; he would tell them regardless.
The boy nodded wordlessly.
He sat on the ground, his knees drawn to his chest as Clint left. He could hear everything going on; one of the few times he cursed his superhearing.
He heard as Clint told the Avengers, he heard their reactions.
The moment the words were out of the archer’s mouth, the first thing audible was Tony’s scream of ‘fuck!’, followed by the sound of something hitting the floor and shattering.
Peter squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth, trying to block out rest of the interaction.
He only opened his eyes when he heard people walking into the room a few minutes later.
Tony, Steve, Bucky, and Natasha.
Tony’s eyes were glossy, as if filled with tears. Steve had his jaw clenched and his hands made into fists. Bucky was standing stiffly, anger visible in his eyes. Natasha… showed no emotion, which Peter knew meant she was furious.
“Hey, Peter,” Tony murmured, his voice slightly gruff — which Peter guessed was from the yelling. The man waited a moment for the boy to speak, and when he didn’t, continued; “We’re going to your Aunt’s, okay? Stay here with Clint and Bruce. We’ll contact them.”
Peter gave a brief nod of acknowledgement, hyper-aware of his body, his position on the floor, and the cold of the tiles biting into his skin through the suit.
“We’re taking your phone,” Tony continued gently, “just in case. We’ll give it back to you after this sh- stuff ends.”
“Okay,” Peter croaked out. “Thank you.”
Peter could see in Tony’s eyes that his heart shattered at that.
“Oh, kid,” the man murmured, “there’s no damn need to thank me. I’m just sorry you didn’t feel comfortable telling me sooner, or at all.”
Peter flinched, but as Tony opened his mouth to apologize, Natasha spoke.
“We need to go,” her voice was monotone, cold. “Westcott sent another text.”
Peter looked up sharply. The four Avengers shared a look before Tony spoke again.
“I’m really sorry, kid. We’ll see you later, okay?”
Peter nodded, tears blurring his vision.
“Take care.”
And with that, the four left.
— — — — —
It took Clint and Bruce a lot of bargaining to get Peter off the floor. The boy was in an almost catatonic state — stuck between awareness and unconsciousness.
But, eventually, Peter agreed to getting off the floor. He walked to his bedroom and shut the door, excusing himself and saying he wanted to change out of his Spider-Man suit.
Clint and Bruce gave FRIDAY strict orders to lock the boy’s bedroom windows.
He changed into his pajamas — the pair that Tony had given the boy as a joke.
That brought him comfort.
A relationship with no exploitation.
When he came out of his room, he sat down on the living room’s couches, staring at the paused TV screen, capturing a frozen frame.
They had been all so happy, and he had to ruin it.
“Do you need anything?” Bruce broke the silence with his concerned voice.
“No,” Peter mumbled, the sound gruff and stiff.
“But if you do, we’re right here,” Clint reminded gently.
“Okay,” Peter mumbled, unable to be more than monosyllibic.
Clint and Bruce shared a worried look. They sat down next to Peter as the boy in question simply stared up at the roof, unmoving, unblinking.
— — — — —
“Steven Westcott?” Natasha asked coldly.
“Uh- yes, that is me. How can I help?” there was an edge of nervousness to the man’s voice.
Westcott was met with a punch to the face.
— — — — —
The four Avengers dragged Skip into a nearby warehouse. Skip had protested the entire time, telling them that they had the wrong guy, that he didn’t do anything wrong…
Another punch from Natasha shut him up well enough.
“You son of a bitch! You stole my son’s innocence! He was a child! He was a fucking child, and you- you-” Tony spluttered in search for words, because nothing said could describe the burning rage within him.
“I didn’t do anything!” Skip’s voice cracked in fear. “I did nothing! You’re attacking an innocent guy!”
“I’ll show you ‘innocent’!” Steve roared, and Skip was met with another punch to the face.
The man whimpered pathetically, much to their satisfaction.
“Please!” Skip begged.
“Did you listen to Peter when he said the same?! Huh?!” Tony grabbed Skip by his hair, smacking his head against a metal support beam. “ANSWER ME!”
“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Bucky stepped forward, staring into the man’s eyes.
“You think some meek, pathetic excuses will get you out of this situation? Do you?” he murmured, his voice sickeningly sweet. “Oh, you poor, stupid little thing.”
Bucky wrapped a hand around Skip’s throat, squeezing painfully tight, yet not enough to kill him, or let him pass out.
No, he wanted the man to feel all the pain, the consequence for his actions.
As Skip wheezed and gasped for air, Natasha, Steve and Tony were kicking and punching, smacking and slapping him.
“You ruined the life of an amazing person, an amazing kid,” Tony laughed, almost pitiful for what would happen. “After ruining such a pure life; did you really think you would get to live yours?”
Skip’s eyes widened.
“No- no, no, no, please-”
“YOU DIDN’T LISTEN WHEN HE BEGGED YOU ‘NO’!” Tony roared once more. “WE WON’T LISTEN TO YOU!”
Skip was sobbing by now, screaming for help, but nobody came.
Natasha shot him in the side, the bullet mostly grazing him, not lodged enough to cause damage, but enough to elicit pain.
Steve was punching Skip square in the face, bruises blooming, sickening cracks filling the air — except, for what was sickening for any other person was pleasurable in this situation, after all the man had done.
Tony… Tony stepped forward, taking off the suit.
And that’s how Skip finally realized he was in deep shit.
The man stepped forward, invading Skip’s personal space, and he dug his fingers into the man’s eyes, ignoring the grotesque squelch, the liquids flowing out of the eyeballs.
Because, no matter anyone’s morals, people like Skip deserved this, and more.
Tony dug deeper, ignoring the blood, ignoring Skip’s screams, before ripping the eyeballs out and throwing them aside.
“You don’t deserve to lay your eyes on anything or anyone.”
Tony’s words were simple, sharp.
Skip was already unconscious, but even after passing out, the words needed to be said.
“Natasha,” Tony spoke coldly, “I’ll do the honors.”
Natasha showed emotion for the first time since the confession; she smiled viciously as she handed over her guns.
Tony took them, and began firing — shot after shot, right into Skip’s chest. He didn’t stop even after he knew the man was dead — no, the guy deserved worse.
He shot until Skip was a lump of meat and blood, his corpse mangled, his bones shattered.
“What now?” Steve muttered, and Tony had never heard the man’s voice so full of hate.
“Dump his body in the ocean. That stuff won’t float, it’s not even a body anymore,” Natasha snorted.
Bucky joined her with a laugh.
Followed by Tony.
And finally Steve.
And so, they dumped Skip’s body in the ocean, feeling a weight lifted off their chest.
— — — — —
Peter had finally managed to doze off when FRIDAY spoke.
“Boss, Ms. Romanoff, Mr. Rogers, and Mr. Barnes are in the lobby,” FRIDAY said, mindfully quiet.
“Great,” Clint smiled sharply. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
— — — — —
They talked next to Peter, not wanting the boy to wake up alone — if he even did wake up this soon.
“We tortured him,” Natasha smiled.
“No, that’s an exaggeration. We gave him nothing less than what he deserved,” Tony rephrased.
“Potato, po-tah-to,” Bucky snorted.
“Where’s the body?”
“In the ocean,” Steve replied smoothly. “Porbably eaten by multiple species of fish by now. See, he’s more useful in death than he’d ever been alive.”
Clint and Bruce laughed quietly.
“That’s great. Except, Peter probably won’t like it.” Bruce’s tone was sobering up.
“It’s fine. He’ll come to terms with it,” Tony assured him.
“Wha’s goin’ on?” Peter slurred, sitting up weakly.
“Everything’s fine,” Tony soothed. “Just rest.”
“M- Tony? You’re back!” Peter shot up, eyes wide. “What- what happened? Is May okay? Is- what- how-”
“Breathe,” Tony murmured.
Peter nodded, taking shaky, deep breaths.
“Everything’s handled. That monster will never hurt another person again,” Natasha spoke softly.
“Did you kill him?” Peter asked.
The Avengers shared a look.
“Yes,” Bucky said finally.
“Oh.” The ghost of a smile crept over Peter’s lips. “Good.”
“Go get some rest, son,” Steve spoke after a few moments of quiet. “You need it.”
“Thanks, Mr-”
“Steve,” Steve corrected, feigning exasperation.
Peter smiled.
“Thanks, Steve.”
The boy turned to the others.
“Goodnight,” he murmured.
“Goodnight,” Steve echoed.
“Goodnight, Pete,” Tony spoke gently.
“G’night,” Bucky nodded.
“Night-night,” Clint called out.
“Goodnight,” Bruce chuckled.
“Sleep tight,” Natasha smiled.
And, shockingly enough, that night was the best rest Peter had gotten in a while as the weight on his shoulders were lifted.