Don't leave me here alone~ Starkbucks (Winteriron)

Did I stutter? (Yes)

(Titles are fucking (me) hard okay?

I'll go now)

"Ahoy there!"
Peter looked up, raising an eyebrow at Steve as he entered the room with some wooden boots.
"I got some new things to try out, this'll be fun."
"Depends on your idea of fun..."
Steve tilted his head slightly, "Yes, I suppose it does."
"Personally I don't see how torturing your best friend and his family is fun, but you do you I guess." Steve just laughed softly. "But seriously though, what are you getting out of this?"
"Entertainment."
"What about when it's too much, and we finally die?"
"Then I'll get some new toys to play with. But that won't be for a long time."

Peter hated the word that Steve had used, who wouldn't? Despite what Steve might've thought, he wasn't just a thing that Steve could do what he want with when he wanted to.

'Or maybe I am.... I shouldn't be though! But I am... no! Stop it! Don't think like that!'

"Who do you have in mind?" Peter knew he probably wouldn't like the answer...
Steve smiled innocently, "Your little boyfriend... Ned, I believe it was?"

Peter couldn't describe the feeling he felt. A strange mix of hatred, fear and some sort of longing all wrapped in one. The fear and hatred was normal, but he never felt hatred for Steve because he had hurt him or be scared that he would, it was hatred from him hurting his dads, fear of him hurting them and anyone else he had hurt or will hurt. The longing was also becoming natural, for his dads, for Ned, for home. But when they were mixed together like this... it was just weird, he couldn't explain why.

"No! Not h-him! Please, he has no part of this... d-don't hurt him..."
"Not that you'll be able to stop me."
"Please... just don't hurt Ned..."
"We'll see if he's dead before you are, you might be lucky."
"N-no... please... I'll do anything..."
"Really? Like what?"
"I don't care, anything... just please..."
"Heh... we'll see..."
"P-please..."
"Either way I got a nice pair of boots for you."

Peter looked at the wooden boots, blinking back a few tears.
"Think fast!" Steve said, throwing the boots which Peter caught easily.
"The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell." Steve whispered, smiling. Peter had to try so hard not to laugh, but he couldn't hold back a small smile.
"Gotcha bitch."

Peter threw the boots back at Steve, who just threw them back at him.
"Go on, see how they fit!" He almost sounded excited. It was weird. Peter sighed and put on the boots. Steve hit them with a sledge hammer, and because of the wedges driving deeper into them, Peter honestly felt like he was dying. It took everything in him to not break down or scream. He knew that if he did, it would only make things worse for him and his dads, but he did let out a lot of whimpers.

"Boots have never hurt so much in my life..." he said when Steve finally stopped.
"Suffer, unholy demon."
"I think you're the unholy demon here..."
"You'd be surprised."
"Would I?"
"Did I stutter?"
"Yes."
"Well fuck..."
"Language Mr Rogers!" Peter faked a gasp.
"Ебать"
"...I don't speak Russian..."
"Precisely."
"Well... what did you say...?"
"Fuck."
"Language Mr Rogers! Honestly!"
"No."
"Yes."
"никако́й."
"I have no idea what you just said but language."
"никако́й"
"Okay..?"
"Good."

Peter was confused, but at this point he would settle for whatever company he could, even if that meant talking to Steve as though he wasn't destroying his and his fathers' lives. Steve continued torturing him for a while.
"You done...?"
"Perhaps." Steve said, giving Peter a small pat on the head that was creepily gentle, and Peter once again struggled to not lean into the touch. Steve removed the boots and left the room.

Peter lent his head against the wall, wondering if they would ever get out of here.