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“What the frickity frack!?” Spider-Man swore as he dodged a metal arm. Doc Ock had either been eating his wheaties or Spidey seriously needed to take a vacation. “You had to break one. Seriously!?”
The mad scientist had broken one of his webshooters and Spidey was not happy. Nope. 'Spidey no likey,' he growled.
“Just.. go… DOWN!” He finally got around to making Doc Ock smack himself with one of his own arms. Spider-Man took the opportunity to take his other arms and wrap them around him, webbing him with the only functioning webshooter while the man was too disorientated by his own arm.
“Next time, I won't be so nice,” he hissed at Doc Ock with a mixture of anger and failure despite the newest present for police. He looked down his nose at Doc Ock and shook his head. Spider-Man just kept shaking his head as emotions bubbled up, threatening to explode.
Back at the Tower, he sat in one of the labs that Stark had been so “kind” to allow him the use of one of his labs. 'Meh.. Tony.'
His mask was sitting on the floor from where he'd thrown it, webshooters had been ripped from their places. He'd cracked the other one in the process. “Fuck.. fuck fuck fuck.. Fuck it all!” Angry tears streamed down his cheeks as he glared at the webshooters that were in need of repair.
He wiped his nose that had begun to run with the back of his gloved hand. “Of all the fucking rotten luck!” Peter had half a mind to go back out, find Doc Ock and punch him in the gut as hard as he could.
“Aggh!” He spun and punched the wall, a low resounding thud and a faint splintering sound echoing in the huge room. Peter was so angry, so pissed even the shattering of his knuckles didn't bother him.
“Damn it all!” he screamed, furiously, exhaustedly, so so done with it all.
A sob ripped its way free from his throat and he just swept his arm across the lab table, webshooters, parts, and tools flying and falling to the floor with a clatter. “..Damn it all..” He leaned against the wall and slumped down until he hit the floor. Peter curled his arms around him, knees against his chest as he cried. He yelled and sobbed and cried.
Peter's not sure how long he stayed in that miserable, pathetic ball of anguish. “Peter..?” a soft voice said. He didn't even look up. “Go 'way..”
“I can't, Peter,” Bruce told him gently. “You're hurt and you're still hurting.”
Peter sniffled, rubbing his face further into the damp material of the suit. “I hate everything..” he mumbled, voice hoarse from crying.
“..Do you?” Bruce asked, kneeling in front of Peter's curled up form. It broke his heart to hear the stutter of Peter's breath.
“..No...”
“What do you hate then?” Bruce asked. Peter shrugged a shoulder, helplessly. “Do you hate being here?” Peter shook his head. “Do you hate being Spider-Man?” Peter hesitated before he shook his head.
“..Can you talk to me?” Bruce questioned. Peter shrugged again. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked, concerned.
Peter's head shot up, cheeks flushed and stained with tears and his eyes wide. He shook his head frantically, arm shooting out and grabbing Bruce's wrist. “N-no.. Don't go.. please?”
Bruce smiled softly and reached out with his free hand, running his fingers through Peter's damp hair. “I won't leave you if you don't want me to.”
Peter took a deep, shuddering breath and swallowed. “ What happened?” Bruce came closer and Peter found himself leaning against the scientist's chest, nestling against him. The beating of Bruce's heart was erratic, alternating between strong and heavy and soft and gentle. It was comforting.
“I-I..” Peter took a breath, “I'm just so tired of things going wrong.” He bit his lip to keep tears from spilling out. “JJJ always makes me out to be a criminal.. I just.. I feel so alone sometimes, Bruce..”
Bruce's arms tightened around Peter a little as he continued, “It feels like all the bad things won't leave me alone.. I lost Gwen already and I'm so afraid that every time I walk out the door and take down a criminal, I might just lose the last person I have left..”
Peter's fingers curl into Bruce's lab coat and cling to it tightly. “A-and you guys just.. you deal with so much stuff that I-I can't come to you.”
“Why?” left Bruce's mouth faster than he could stop it. Peter looked up at him, eyes red. “Because.. you're heroes and I'm..” he motioned to his broken webshooters, “I'm a kid that can't do anything right. I've messed up so many lives.. what's to stop me from messing up yours?”
Bruce's eyes shut, brows furrowing with emotion, upset at himself as he knew the other Avengers would be. “I-I'm just.. I'm so.. weak and I'm just.. just plain old bad luck,” Peter sobbed a little in his arms.
Bruce opened his eyes and caught Peter's, “No. You're not. Tell me about your day. What went wrong today?”
Peter told him everything. Harassment from the Bugle, hunger, weariness, loneliness, Doc Ock and breaking his webshooters. By the end of it, he was crying into Bruce's chest again, grip just short of painful, but Bruce handled it.
“Peter.. I'm not going to tell you “sometimes bad things happen to good people” - although they do – but what I want to tell you is that you can always come to us. Me, Tony – we're all here for you for whatever you need, whenever you need it,” Bruce told him. “And we all have our bad days when it feels like nothing's going right and everything's falling apart, but I want you to remember that none of us are alone – you aren't alone.”
Bruce swiped a thumb under one of Peter's eyes, catching the tears, before doing the same to the other. “If you're hurt, we'll be here. If you're crying, we'll be here.” He looked over to the broken webshooters, smiling a little, “And if your equipment is broken, Tony and I can help.” Bruce tilted his head to the side, “Just.. Clint's not allowed to try and help.” Peter chuckled brokenly. “He'd probably blow them up.”
Peter laughed a bit, “And then Tony would yell at him for being technologically illiterate and he'd say something like 'Well, it's not my fault they decide to explode'.” Bruce chuckled, eyes sparkling a little. “He would, wouldn't he?”
Peter nodded, calm as he laid his head on Bruce's shoulder, exhaustion settling in. “Tired, Peter?” He nodded a little, eyes slipping closed. Bruce's hand petted his hair lightly. “Take a little bit and close your eyes. When you wake up, we can see about getting them back in working condition, yeah?”
Bruce barely felt it when Peter nodded a little, relaxing in his arms as he fell asleep. The scientist smiled at the teen super-human in his arms. “Don't worry, Peter. You're not alone,” he whispered softly into the boy's ear. Peter snuggled closer to Bruce, sighing with contentment. “We're all here for you.”