Spiderman Oneshots

Therapy

This can be read alone or a sequel to Peppermint, based off a request by @boredouttamymind_  Contains a portrayal of a panic attack, so please be careful if you think that might upset you.

Sam was in his room at the compound writing up a mission report to hand in to SHIELD next week. Most of the Avengers (cough Tony cough) left it to the last minute to do their write-up but Sam liked to stay on top of things. He was just finishing up the last sentence, with 2 casualties in the opposing  force (a detached, clinical summery of the explosion and pounding heart and sweatandbloodandscreamsand-) when there came a knock on his door. 

'Knock' is a nice way of saying it sounded like someone was pounding desperately on the wood, urgently enough that Sam instantly closed his laptop and called, "Come in!" as he stood up from his desk.

The first thing Sam noticed was his breathing - the irregular, frantic gasps of a person who is drowning in panic. Then he registered it was Peter, the youngest sort-of Avenger, still wearing his colourful suit, and he remembered telling the boy he was a professional therapist. That meant it was time to act like one. 

Pushing all his personal worries for the boy aside, Sam went right to business. "Are you injured?"

Peter shook his head, choking on a ragged gasp.

"Don't try to speak, keep breathing. Is anyone in immediate danger?"

Another shake.

"Okay. Sit down. Breathe." Sam pointed at his bed and Peter practically collapsed onto it, yanking off his mask. Sam closed the door and moved his chair to face where Peter was sat. He waited patiently for the boy's breathing to ease a little, making sure to keep his own breaths regular so Peter could copy them.

When he'd recovered enough to speak between shuddering gasps, Peter let out a quick, "Sorry. It's stupid-" before his breathing hitched and his aching lungs started sucking desperately at the air again. Wet, hot tears began to flow freely and Peter hiccupped and sobbed as he tried to swipe them away.

"Shhh, sh, it's okay, you're safe." Sam spotted an untouched glass of water and set it by Peter. "See if you can drink something. Small sips. Deep breaths."

Peter did as instructed, and he began to calm down again.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"There was a little girl," Peter managed before a greedy gasp interrupted him. He took another moment to recover enough to say, "she was in a collapsing building. I got to her, but it was- it was too close." With that Peter burst into a fresh batch of tears. Sam scooted his chair closer and placed a hand on his knee, squeezing gently. 

Minutes passed, and Peter's tears slowed and his breaths became long and only slightly shaky. 

"She was only five," he whispered hoarsely. "She'll be traumatised for the rest of her life. If I'd been a second later, if I'd stayed outside making stupid jokes just a moment longer she would have died. I can't- I can't stop picturing it."

"She's safe?"

Peter nodded. "I helped her find her family. I was fine, I was- But when I swinging home I just kept thinking what if- and then I couldn't breathe or think and the only thing I could think to do was come here. I should've- I should have gone home, this is so stupid. I'm sorry for bothering you over something so- I mean, nothing bad actually happened."

"You had an awful shock, Peter, and a delayed response. That's completely normal. Coming here was the right choice and I'm glad you did."

Peter sipped more water and blew his nose.