Hey there. This story's getting pretty ✨wow✨. I'm not sure if that's good or bad though.
Here's a quick warning: this chapter features a panic attack. It's about to go downnnnnn.
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The internship gave him a chance to calm down and focus on his work. It was a much-needed break after getting shot three times, the Avengers finding out he was Spider-Man, the hectic day at school and detention, and the encounter with Bruce.
The time flew by, and before he knew it he was up in the penthouse having dinner with the Avengers, sitting with Bucky on his right and Tony to his left. It had become a normal occurrence for Peter to stay over for dinner after Tony and Bruce had found he was malnourished when they met.
Peter was worried about what would come at dinner now that they'd discovered he was Spider-Man. Though all the worry washed away when he found that he wasn't treated any differently. Now, he was actually able to share some of his stories as Spider-Man too.
"No that wouldn't work," Thor stated. "He would see it."
They were talking about how to prank Scott the next time he came over. Surprisingly, everyone offered their ideas, including the mature ones, like Steve and Nat.
"Oh, what if we dump honey and glitter on him right when he walks out of the elevator? He wouldn't see that coming," Sam proposes.
Immediately, it's shot down by Steve. "He normally comes up small, and then grows back to normal size to try to scare us when he gets here. We wouldn't see him come in to do that."
They keep tossing out ideas that are usually shot down and bickering about the best way to go about pranking him.
He was having such a nice time, actually getting to relax, that he didn't notice how the super soldier next to him had fallen quiet, his face contorted in anger, his metal arm bending his fork slightly.
Peter was right-handed. This meant his baggy sleeve slid down his arm while he ate. Bucky had caught a glimpse of Peter's wrist and had to set his fork down so that he didn't crush it. He didn't want to think about who would do that to a boy as nice as Peter.
He'd been alive for almost a hundred years–he knew what cigarette burns looked like–but he still wanted to see what Peter would say if he asked.
"Peter," Bucky said quietly, getting the boy's attention. Three others–Nat because she was always alert, Steve since he noticed just about everything his boyfriend did, and Tony because he was sitting on the other side of Peter–also looked over. Everyone else continued with their conversation. "What's that?" It would be hard to miss the anger in his voice.
"W-what?" Peter had an idea of what he was talking about, but just hoped he was wrong.
"Your wrist."
Peter dropped his fork, immediately sliding his sleeve down and holding it there with his left hand, placing his hands in his lap. How could he have been so stupid? So reckless? Especially after Bruce had already noticed them, he should've been more careful. He was glad Bruce wasn't at dinner.
By now, he had everyone's attention and he could feel his cheeks heat up. "It-it's nothing."
Bucky reached to grab his arm, but Peter recoiled sharply and stood up. "Really, it's nothing. I actually have to go, it's already," he checked his phone, and if it were possible, his eyes got big once again, "Ten fifteen. I'm late! Thanks for dinner, it was really good. I'll see you tomorrow."
Peter all but ran into the elevator, the Avenger's eyes burning holes into the back of his head. Tony heard a small 94% and almost choked on his food. Peter was on the verge of a panic attack. Tony tried to stop him before he could leave, but Peter was already gone.
In the elevator, Peter was breathing hard, starting to hyperventilate. He only made it about a block before he stumbled into an alley. He felt dizzy and hot. He sat onto the ground, leaning against a wall.
It was hard to breathe, and he found himself gasping for air. He was shaking and sweating and couldn't get himself to calm down.
He was scared of what would happen when he got home. Mrs. Wright had told him not to be late for curfew again, and he was. What if she found out that Bruce and Bucky had seen the burns too?
After about fifteen minutes, Peter got his breathing under control. He was still shaking a bit, but he was no longer sweating as much or light-headed. He swiped at his eyes, wishing he could get rid of the puffiness.
He'd only had them once or twice before, but he thought that it was a panic attack.
He got up and continued his walk home. He was still scared and hated it. He was Spider-Man, he shouldn't have felt scared.
It was eleven when he got home. He didn't bother sneaking in. They would already know he was late and trying to pretend he wasn't would only make things worse. Bracing himself, he unlocked the door and went inside.
Just as expected, Mrs. Wright was there at the kitchen table waiting for him. What really scared him was the empty beer bottle in her hand and a cigarette in her mouth. He wasn't sure where Mr. Wright was; he hadn't seen him in a while.
"I told you not to be late. Do you know what time it is?" she spoke calmly, venom lacing her voice.
"Eleven," Peter mumbled quietly, trembling. He leaned against the wall to take his shoes off. Things escalated very quickly, and he realized that was a mistake.
She threw the beer bottle at him. It wasn't clear where she was aiming, but she hit the wall right next to Peter's neck, causing the glass to shatter, some of it cutting or getting stuck in the skin by his neck and shoulder.
Peter gasped in pain and felt blood running down his neck onto his crewneck.
"How do you think it makes me look when you come running in here late at night?" She stalked over to him and pulled him away from the wall.
He didn't want to be scared, but he was. He was shaking, his palms were sweating. Every step that brought her closer made Peter want to run or fight back, but he couldn't.
Her fist met his face multiple times, his Spidey Sense painfully going off before each one. And that was only the beginning. She grabbed his arm, never failing to stop her rant about how bad, pathetic, and terrible he was and took her cigarette out of her mouth. Peter dreaded what came next.
He clenched his teeth to stop his groans and cries and squeezed his eyes shut as she held the cigarette to his arm. Over and over again. "Maybe this'll teach you what happens when you don't follow the rules. Except you won't need to worry about that much longer. The orphanage can have you back."
After adding almost ten burns to his arm, the hitting started again. And when he fell to the floor, the kicking and stomping started. That part hurt almost as much as the burns, especially when she got close to or kicked one of the spots where he got shot.
Blood took over his senses. He could taste it and smell it, dripping from his mouth and nose. Feel it sticking his clothes to his skin and the drops rolling down his skin. See it splattered across the floor. Hear it pumping in his ears.
Spots danced in his vision and he almost passed out multiple times. He thought he may have actually blacked out a few times. Tears dried on his cheeks, only to be washed away with more. It was all he could do not to scream.
"We wanted a good, nice kid that would listen to us and follow the rules. But instead, we got stuck with you. Breaking our simple rules, making us look bad, worthless! Ya know, I think before we take you back, we should leave a message to anyone who wants to adopt you again."
She pulled him up and dragged him over to the bathroom, leaving him in the bathtub after telling him to take off his shirt. She left for a minute only to come back with a knife that made his heart skip a beat.
Before he knew what was happening, she dragged the knife across his upper right arm in jagged lines and curves. The pain was white-hot and he once again almost passed out. He wished he would've. He wished all the pain would stop. His teeth stayed clenched in order to keep him from crying out.
The knife cut across his skin, leaving a trail of blood and pain everywhere it touched.
Only when she was done and roughly swiped away the blood to admire her work could he see what she did. In jagged, rickety, uppercase letters, she had carved the word 'worthless' into his arm.
Only then did she leave him alone, but not before muttering a last few nasty words and telling him to pack to go back to the orphanage tomorrow morning.
The first thing he did once she left was lean over and throw up into the toilet, most of it being blood again. Everything hurt too much. He stumbled out of the bathtub, managing not to fall back down, and started fixing his injuries.
Peter wrapped up his arm and attended to his other cuts, bruises, and burns. He tried to get the glass out of his neck, shoulder, and back too, but he couldn't see it and would only end up doing more damage.
It was harder than usual trying to tend to his wounds because he was seeing a mix of stars and tears the whole time.
He limped back to his room and started packing while crying. He couldn't stop the tears and didn't try to. He wasn't sure how long he cried, but it didn't stop or falter the whole time he was packing and didn't go away as he laid on his bed and went to sleep.
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Peter texted Max early that morning telling him that he wouldn't be there this morning to take the kids to school, so to take them. He also said not to worry about lunches because he'd pick them up and make them food.
He slept in a bit, knowing that he wouldn't be going to school today. Instead, he sat waiting on his bed for Mrs. Wright to take him back to the orphanage.
With his speedy healing still recovering somewhat and not fully working yet, he was covered in bruises, and cuts, and burns. He had a raging headache.
Eventually, the time came where Mrs. Wright took him back to the orphanage, not so much as even looking at him. He'd only been with them for two and a half weeks, and it was absolute hell. Not that the orphanage was much better though. He was sure to receive a beating from Demon for being taken back.
And he was right. It wasn't nearly as bad as the beating Mrs. Wright gave him last night–she only hit him a few times in the face–but it still hurt.
When he got back up to the empty boys' room, he tried to better assess his injuries from last night. He was too out of it then to really get a good look.
Obviously, he had the glass in his neck and shoulder, bruises, cigarette burns, and the cuts, including where she carved the message in his arm. It hurt to breathe in fully, so he figured he might've hurt another rib.
How was he going to explain this at the internship later? He thought it probably wouldn't matter as much if they found out about the Wrights now that he didn't live with them, but he still didn't want them to know. They'd probably think he was pathetic if they found out. That Spider-Man couldn't even defend himself.
He hung out most of the day trying, unsuccessfully, to think of what he would tell them. Though, it was soon time to pick the kids up from school. He went over, trying, once again unsuccessfully, to drown his thoughts and distract himself with the music playing in his earbuds.
The kids all rushed over and hugged him when they saw him. The teachers 'awwed' at the scene smiling. They knew Peter and thought it was cute how much the kids loved and looked up to him.
Peter took the kids home and when they found out he was going to be living there again, they all started hugging him again. When he finally escaped their grasp for longer than five minutes, he made them lunch before leaving for his internship.
He was a bit late, but Tony didn't care. What he did care about though was what FRIDAY told him once he had entered the building.
When Peter got up to the lab, he was immediately ushered to the Med Bay. He was in there far too many times than he would've liked.
Bruce walked in, followed by Nat, and Tony asked FRIDAY to read off his injuries once again.
"Since my last scan, Peter has gotten two fractured ribs, internal bleeding, multiple contusions, small 2nd-degree burns, and lacerations, and glass splinters around his neck."
The usual stunned looks appeared on the three's faces, but that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was when they asked him to take off his shirt.
"D-do I have to? Can I keep it on, please?" Peter pleaded, a few tears escaping onto his cheeks. But just like last time, there was no way to help take care of his injuries with his shirt on, and Bruce looked sad when he had to say no.
Peter slowly took off his shirt, as his eyes found the ground and he choked back a sob. He wasn't that stressed; he'd been expecting it all morning, but it didn't make it any easier.
If they looked stunned before from just hearing about his injuries, they looked completely aghast now. Tony and Bruce had already seen Peter all bruised up before, but that didn't make it much better.
His torso was covered in bruises ranging from all different colors. His gunshot wounds looked worse than they had yesterday. There were small cuts everywhere and visible pieces of glass around his left shoulder. What was the worst though was his right arm.
Now impossible to cover with just one hand, was small circular burns crawling from his wrist to halfway up his forearm. And his upper arm was covered in cuts that spelled the word 'worthless'.
Tears silently fell down Peter's face as the three Avengers looked him over.
They all stayed silent as Bruce quickly got to work, but he knew that they'd start asking questions afterward.
He started by removing the pieces of glass from his left shoulder, back, and neck. He then moved to clean up the cuts. Peter tensed when he got to his upper right arm, and Bruce struggled to keep calm.
He then, much to Peter's dismay, treated the burns on his arm. There wasn't much he could do about his fractured ribs, except suggest that he takes it easy for the next few days.
Bruce had to leave soon after so that he could calm down, surprised he'd made it that far without turning into the other guy. He'd barely managed to while treating Peter. They sat in silence for a moment giving them all time to think.
Tony knew that it must've happened sometime after he left last night because FRIDAY would've alerted him if it happened any soon. Natasha knew it must've happened last night too somehow.
"Who?" was all Nat said, but Peter knew exactly what she was asking.
Peter stayed silent, still crying.
"Was it that... What was her name... Mrs. Wright?" Tony asked this time.
Peter stayed silent again, but that gave them all the answers they needed.
"Oh, I'm gonna ruin this woman's life," Tony fumed, getting on his phone.
"You can't ruin what she doesn't have," Nat replied, whipping out a dagger from seemingly nowhere.
"No, stop. I was taken back to the orphanage anyway, so it'll be fine," Peter quietly cut in.
"Peter, we saw what they did! Like hell she's getting away with it, over my dead body," Tony snapped, causing Peter to flinch.
"Please, Mr. Stark. Don't do anything, I'm fine," Peter begged tears in his eyes.
"No, you're not fine, Peter. Why don't you want me to go after her anyway?" Tony asked a little softer, genuinely confused.
"Because then it would be all over the news. Just imagine what the headlines would be like. It would get traced back to me, and I don't really want anyone knowing."
Peter had a point, but Tony couldn't just sit back and do nothing. He made a mental note to talk to Nat when they were alone.
But he still sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes, exasperated. "Okay, fine. If that's what you want, I'll leave it alone."
"Thanks," Peter mumbled, putting his shirt back on.
"How about we take another day off today, and then we'll get back to work tomorrow?"
"Are you sure, Mr. Stark? We just took yesterday off."
"Yeah, well I'm not really in the working mood today, and I doubt you are either. Go on up to the penthouse, I'll be up in a few minutes."
"Alright," Peter sighed in relief before walking out of the room. He really hadn't been in the mood to work today.
Tony waited until he could hear the boy go up in the elevator before turning to Natasha. "So you're gonna go find her, right?"
"Yeah, later today. Trust me, this'll never end up on the news if that's what he'd worried about."
Just thinking about Peter's broken expression and seeing what she did to him made his heartbreak and blood boil, and he was sure Nat felt the same. This lady would regret ever laying a finger on Peter.
Peter went up to the penthouse, which was for once empty, and sat on the couch. He still hadn't stopped crying, so he was glad to be alone. If he came up to the penthouse crying, the other Avengers would ask questions and that was the last thing he wanted.
Nat and Tony came up soon after and they turned on a movie. Peter was glad they didn't really ask any more questions so mention it as they sat on either side of him.
The other Avengers came in about halfway through the first movie. Peter had stopped crying, but he was sure his face was still red and puffy. They either didn't see or didn't mention it though, just sat down with them for the movie.
When the first movie ended, they got up to get dinner before watching a second. The other Avengers must've at least noticed how he looked down because during dinner they were laughing and making jokes the whole time.
Steve and Sam talked to him most of the time from across the table. Steve originally went to sit next to Peter but earned a glare from Natasha. Nat and Tony sat around him instead, as if to protect him.
Halfway through the second movie, the sun set, and with it, Nat left. She didn't say where she was going, but she had a dangerous glint in her eyes and Peter thought it better not to ask.
After the second movie, Peter hung out for about half an hour before he had to head home. Tony insisted on driving Peter himself. Peter was grateful he wouldn't have to see Happy's reaction to dropping him off at the orphanage.
He got back before the nine o'clock curfew and didn't run into Demon. He went up to the boys' room. Some of them were already asleep while others were just up talking.
The room was crowded before, but now with an extra boy, it was even worse. There wasn't much they could do about it though.
They hung out for a few hours and once all the boys had fallen asleep Peter was tempted to sneak out to go on patrol. But Bruce had said to take it easy for a few days, with his injuries. He was too sore to do much good anyway.
So he went to bed like everyone else, his first time sleeping in the orphanage again since two and a half weeks ago. He couldn't say he missed it.