An AU where it's avengers vs Hydra but as good vs abusive gymnastics companies, Peter is trapped w Hydra and avengers basically save him
I did competetive gymnastics as a kid so that makes me qualified to write this /j.
TW: injury, medical stuff, eating disorder, self harm
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Hydra Gymnastics and Tumbling was one of, no, scratch that, the best gym in the youth competitive gymnastics world.
That gym raised up the current world's best in male gymnastics, James Bucanon "Bucky" Barnes. He was serious and cold, focused on the competition and nothing else. He didn't slip up, and if he did, he didn't let people know. It was rare that he didn't stick a landing. He didn't mess up at competitions, ever since his debut before Olympic level gymnastics, he'd been scoring near perfect scores.
But Hydra was a youth gym. Sure, they raised and basically gave Bucky his name, but they didn't have him anymore. Instead, they had new rising superstar Peter Parker, nicknamed the "spider-man" for the way he seemed to stick to the floor on all his landings, the way he could swing himself around the bar effortlessly and carry himself on the rings like he was flying.
What the public didn't see was the emotional, verbal, mental, and physical abuse the HYDRA coaches put their gymnasts through. Peter was already anxious to start with, but since he'd been training with HYDRA, despite improving rapidly, he'd picked up so many unhealthy habits:
Extremely restrictive eating after the coaches told him he was fat (he was not fat) and that he needed to watch his calories over and over and over.
Binging and purging to ease the hunger but get the calories his body had begged and begged for out.
Self harm. No one could see the cuts and scars on his thighs under his leo or shorts.
On top of all that, he had bruises. So many bruises. Bruises from being pushed by coaches, violently spotted while learning new skills, by trying to adjust equipment too fast before coaches could yell at him, and sometimes just hitting him. Not being there to catch him. His coaches would also scream at him, yell out his imperfections until he was perfect. Most of his teammates gave up, threw in the towel, went home early, or their parents pulled them out. But Peter just kept taking it, kept persevering. He didn't know what his limit was. He didn't know how to stop, so he just let it continue.
He let the bruises pile up, letting his eating habits become more and more extreme, let the cuts become deep and dizzying.
The cherry on top was school. The bullying for being a little more feminine than the rest of the guys, for being to skinny, for being smart, for being a pushover, a try hard, a teachers pet, a cheater. People called him whatever they wanted to and he pretended to let it roll of his shoulders, but really it sat there next to the bruises and hand in hand with the void in his stomach.
Now, it was national qualifiers and his coaches were expecting him, for the 5th year in a row, to stand on that podium with five gold medals around his neck and go on to nationals, hopefully to win all around this year.
The night before he couldn't bring himself to eat, which wasn't routine for him before a competition, but the longer he stared at his plate the rounder his stomach seemed to become. He couldn't eat. He threw the food away.
It was fine, his coaches had convinced him he didn't need the calories anyways.
Worst decision of his life.
Time came for his bar routine, he did the usual. This was the event that really earned him his nickname, he had the highest difficulty routine and always got the highest scores. But he had no energy, his body was failing him, he felt so dizzy as he let go for another flip, twisting over the bar and reaching out to regrab, but he let go too early. His hands missed the bar, his head did not.
The "thpwong" of the metal bar slamming into his head brought silence from the crowd. His body fell limply to the matt. The only sound was his coach whisper-shouting at him to get up and finish the routine. He could barely understand what threats that entailed. His head hurt.
But still, he got back up on the bar, not missing the way his coach aggressively squeezed his sides as he was lifted back up to finish his routine, his nails digging in and leaving indents underneath the leo. Peter did not stick his landing.
He felt sick for multiple reasons as he saluted and stepped off the mat. His neck hurt, his head hurt, the whole room was spinning. His ears were ringing so loudly he didn't hear his coach ushering away medical care.
"Sir, may I use the restroom?" He asked weakly. He was shooed away with a seething "dismissed."
Peter stumbled into the men's room and leaned over the sink. He didn't feel stable enough to make it to the toilet.
"Peter? Are you okay?" Someone asked. The last person Peter expected to see when he turned around was Flash.
Peter just stared for a minute before turning back to the sink, unable to find words or really hold a thought process longer than a second or two.
"m'gon'throwup." He slurred, trying to keep his empty stomach in his mouth.
"I saw your fall, it sounded like it hurt." Flash said. He was being unusually kind, he never hesitated to take a jab at Peter's already tiny ego. They were both in gymnastics, though flash wasn't as good as Peter.
Peter didn't respond.
"Do you want to go to a toilet?" Flash offered, carefully reaching under his arm, not missing the way he physically flinched back from the touch.
But then, Peter followed Flash to a stall and he knelt down in front of the bowl, his entire vision spinning. He vomited suddenly, gasping afterwards, then again.
A voice called out from the bathroom door, "Peter, your next event warmup is starting soon. Let's get going."
Peter pushed Flash away and quickly pulled himself up. Immediately, he stumbled into the stall wall, but pushed himself out and limped over to the bathroom door, not looking back at the stall Flash was hiding in. His next event was floor, and he was not feeling well at all.
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Flash exited the stall and went back towards his coaches.
Steve Rogers founded Avengers Tumbling after he found out about the horrible experience his best friend, Bucky Barnes, used to go through, vowing to coach and never teach the way they did at Hydra, and to be just as good. Better even. They were almost there. They were hydra's biggest competition.
Steve was the main tumbling, trampolining, and ground events coach. Tony Stark handled the air stuff, fluent in the language of bars and rings as a national gold medalist. Flash was never super close with Tony, or either of his coaches really, but it wasn't hard to strike up a conversation with them either.
"I just met Peter Parker in the bathroom." He mentioned as he began to put his grips on.
"Oh, really? What was he like?" Tony asked curiously, "I always wondered what the modern day Bucky would be like to talk to. You guys go to school together right?"
Flash nodded, "I mean, usually he's kinda shy I guess? Sometimes comes off as snobby in my opinion." He avoided the bullying bit, making fun of Peter was really just a harmless giggle in his eyes, "I think he got really hurt on his last event."
"Oh? I heard he fell but he never visited med." Tony said, scrolling through the current competition rankings on his phone and seeing Peter's surprisingly still high score.
"He threw up a couple times, I think he has a concussion. He was stumbling around like it, but his coach called him out of the bathroom and he left immediately." Flash said, "I'm kinda worried, I know we're competing but he could get really hurt."
Tony nodded seriously, a little bit of pride swelling in the fact that their gym has raised gymnasts with better attitudes and morals than Hydra. He scanned around for a big schedule, trying to find information either on signs or on his phone, "where's he at next?"
"Floor I think." Flash answered.
"Rings is right next to that, let's go. I'll have Steve watch your warmup and I'll go see if I can get Rhodey at med to do something." Tony answered, patting Flash on the back encouragingly.
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Peter's warmup was a mess. He felt like throwing up. He wasn't sticking anything, barely landing it. It was dangerous, but he knew his coach being angry with him was worse. Well, he was already fuming that he wasn't performing as well as usual, but it was better than not competing at all.
What was worse is how bad Peter's neck and ankle hurt as well. Besides his head getting whammed into the bar, his neck had bent wierd from it and he'd way twisted his ankle when he fell.
His warmup ended and he seriously felt sick again, his mouth was watering in the least pleasent way possible. He went to sit down by his stuff and wait his turn to go, his entire body reverbating in pain as he did so.
"Sir?" He muttered weakly, trying to stand up and get his coach's attention.
"What, Peter." The coach demanded, angry with him, staring ahead at the current competetor.
"I need to use the b-bathroom." He stuttered.
"No you don't, you just went." The coach spat back, not even looking over at Peter.
So Peter left his side, not to go back and sit down, but to suddenly vomit over the closest trash can. His coach turned to look at the heaving and paled, not for Peter's safety but for his reputation.
There were a couple people at his side immediately, including medical professionals who finally pulled him away from his coach and forced him to sit down. One medical professional went to tell the judge he wouldn't be competing, Someone sat him down right there next to the trashcan and knelt down next to the boy.
"Someone" introduced himself as Rhodey as Peter was trying to keep any of the acid left in his stomach in and explained that they were calling an ambulance because it looked like Peter had a pretty severe concussion.
"M-my neck hurts." He managed, only as loud as a whisper, terrified to speak up for himself.
"Alright," Rhodey said, then continued seeing the boy was next to tears, "hey, you're gonna be okay, we're gonna get you all taken care of."
"My- my coach is so m-mad." He stuttered, shaking his head, his chest tight, "it h-hurts."
"Woah woah, hey, you're okay." Rhodey said, placing a hand on his back.
Peter flinched away, "n-" he couldn't speak, "c-" he kept trying but it wouldn't come out. He stood up and stumbled back, "p-"
He took a gasp, one glance over at his fuming coach and he was neck deep in a panic attack. In front of everyone. In front of the crowd of people watching the different events he was having a massive panic attack after puking in front of everyone as well.
"Kid, you're okay, breathe. Take a deep breath." Rhodey said, trying to pull the boy out of it. He was shoved to the side when his Hydra coach came storming over.
He grabbed a hyperventilating Peter by the earlobe and whispered something angrily that got him to stop all tears. To stop all emotions. To just stop. Something that put him in a daze where tears freely streamed down his face but the rest of him went still and silent.
"Take him to the hospital." The Hydra coach demanded, "get him fixed so he can at least be at the next competition."
No one argued to tell him that this concussion would probably take months of healing. No one saved Peter from the abuse he was facing.
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At the next meet, things were so much worse. Sure, Peter wasn't injured anymore, but everything else was so so so so much worse. He hadn't eaten in days and the cuts on his thighs were wrapped tight. He was scared to take his warmups off in fear of it looking wierd.
He was found having a panic attack in the bathroom before his bars routine by none other than Tony Stark, who was curious about the wierd noise he heard coming from the men's room.
"Hello?" He called out.
A heaving sob responded.
"Are you hurt?" Tony asked, "I can tell you're not okay, so I won't bother with all that." He continued, going to crouch carefully outside the stall someone was sobbing inside of.
"C-can't-" the voice stammered, gasping in between words, "breathe."
This was concerning to hear.
"Come out of the stall." Tony said no threateningly, "let's talk."
Peter managed to get up and open the stall door, one hand clutching his chest and the other holding the lock.
"Peter flippin Parker." Tony said with joking dumbfoundedness, snapping out of it when Peter let out a sob and crouched down to the ground in the frame of the stall door, holding his chest.
"Ok, hey. Do you have asthma?" Tony said, kneeling down on one knee next to him.
Peter shook his head, he wasn't wheezing but his breaths were miniscule, "p-panic at-" he couldn't finish the word without gasping, "help- hurts." He was clutching his chest like it was a heart attack.
Tony was no stranger to the pain, his career was almost ended because of heart problems, but he persevered. He was no stranger to panic attacks afterwards, so he did exactly what he would want someone to do for him.
"Okay, listen to my voice. Just listen, all it is is a panic attack. The pain in your chest is tight muscles from hyperventilating. Focus on my words and my breaths, try to imagine what I'm saying and match my breathing. The pain will pass and you will be okay." Tony rambled, watching as the boy's breaths became deeper. He wasn't sure if Peter was even aware how tightly closed his eyes were as he tried to focus and imagine. Tony hurt for the kid and how badly he wanted out of this.
"Focus on what's around you, you're in the men's restroom at a gymnastics meet." Tony said, not mentioning that it was nationals or that his event was starting very soon, "the ground is tile and it's not well lit. It smells pretty bad, yeah?"
"Yeah." Peter whispered, nodding slightly, tears slipping out of his shut eyes, his breaths smoother now.
"Do you wanna come out of the stall?" Tony asked, "my hand is here to help you up if you want."
Peter reached forward blindly, his eyes still shut tight. Tony carefully grabbed the boy's hand, not missing the way his body jumped at the touch, but then accepted it. Tony pulled the boy up and for the first time, saw him up close.
He was skinny.
Way too skinny for a gymnast at this level. He was muscle and bones, his cheeks were sunken in and his shoulders were wide, but he looked pale and ready to collapse.
"Are you alright now?" Tony asked after they were both standing.
Peter slowly opened his teary eyes, taking a deep and shaky breath, "mhm." He nodded, though he wasn't making eye contact.
"When does your event start?" Tony asked.
"Sooner than I want it to." Peter said bashfully. He felt like melting again. He didn't want to compete. He was scared and tired. He wasn't ready.
"Do you need something to eat?" Tony asked carefully, not expecting Peter to make full eye contact with him.
"You want me to eat?" He asked curiously.
Tony looked to the side like he didn't understand if Peter was talking to him or not, like it was a strange question, "yes?" He almost laughed afterwards, but the genuine confusion on the gymnast's face shut him up quickly.
"But you're a coach." He argued, "my coaches never want me to eat."
Tony felt a pit growing in his stomach, "no no you need to eat."
Peter looked at him suspiciously, sniffing and wiping his nose on his wrist like he didn't just have a violent panic attack, "I'm going to warmup. Thanks." He said coldly, believing there was sabotage behind an opposing team's coach's will for him to eat something. To fatten him up so he'd preform worse. He scoffed and walked out.
Tony went to tattle tale to Steve.
------
Peter preformed perfectly on bars out of spite: 9.975
Parallel bars also went very well: 9.9
Rings too: 9.8
Floor and pommell horse he was above a 9.5.
His last event was vault. He hadn't eaten anything all day still, but the dizziness felt normal. His warmup was good.
All of Avenger's Tumbling was on the sidelines watching, they went right after him on this event. He set at the start line, the blue track was spinning in front of him.
He told himself it would be over in thirty seconds, to just do what he knew.
He ran,
hurdled,
flipped,
but everything went wrong.
he veered to the side, his dizziness affecting his motions, and landed on the concrete floor instead of the mats. He felt he wasn't going to stick it, so he prepared to rebound, but he didn't register he wasn't on the mats.
His leg hit and he felt something pop.
He stood for a moment, gazing around dizzily. He found Tony's eyes, then turned to salute. He stepped into his leg and it gave out. Once his leg was down, black crowded his vision. He felt himself hit the floor before he actually passed out.
When he woke up, his knee was swollen like a balloon and someone was wrapping it, someone else was hovering over him, he heard his coach yelling.
Peter tried to sit up, but someone pushed him down.
"Need- go again. I need to go again." He said breathlessly, trying to get up again.
"Kid, it's Tony. It's Mr. Stark, from earlier in the bathroom, right? Lay down." He said calmly, but seriously.
"No- no- I need to go again-" Peter argued, not trying to sit up this time. The ceiling was spinning again.
"You just dislocated your knee." Someone else said, "maybe worse. You cannot compete."
"No no no no. I have to go again. My- my coach will be- I have to-" he tried to sit up again.
"No no no, kid." Tony said, "look, it's worse than a dislocation okay? Let's not look at it. Let's just stay down, let the shock let it not hurt."
"What? What happened?" He asked, "Mr. Stark you know what its like, I have to compete! I know you know what you'll do if you don't let me go, so why aren't you letting me? It doesn't matter if it hurts. It's only pain, I can do it."
"What will I do?" Stark challenged.
"Not you, coaches. You know what I mean." Peter argued.
"No, I don't think I do, Mr. Parker." Mr. Stark said, looking over to Steve and motioning for him to come over with a tilt of his head.
"Bull. Conditioning till I throw up or pass out? Spotting me on skills so rough I get bruises? All the pushing and shoving that coaches do when they get angry because I did a bad routine run. Tell me I'm fat. Refuse to let me have water. Extend practice times way longer than scheduled. The office visits? Sound familiar?" Peter asked, running his mouth off angrily. He was tired of it all.
Tony looked horrified, Steve equally or more behind him, "they do the office visits on you?" Steve asked.
Peter just glared in response.
Tony was confused, "what are the office visits?"
"Bucky said they'd take him into the office and actually beat him up, punch him, hit him, hit him with other things. He says he blocked most of it out, but... There's always stuff he doesn't want to talk about." Steve explained.
"Why doesn't he know about it?" Peter asked, still angry.
"Peter, not all gyms are like Hydra. At Avengers we don't punish our gymnasts for not being perfect, we work on how to improve what they struggle with. We don't give them useless conditioning for messing up just to hurt them." Steve said.
Peter looked lost, "but how else do they know not to do it again?"
"We teach them how not to. What to do different." Tony explained, "but your coaches just punish you?"
"Yes." Peter confirmed, taking a deep breath, "can I see my knee?" He heard distant sirens outside.
"Uh, I don't think you should..." Tony said wearily. Steve helped him sit up.
Peter nearly passed out again at the sight. His leg was sideways under his knee, his kneecap was shifted over and displaced, and it hurt.
"Oh. Ok." He said, then went limp again.
He woke up in the hospital.
-------
Peter gagged when he woke up. There was a feeding tube down his nose and his body wanted it out. He wanted it out.
He immediately reached up to pull on it, but someone grabbed his wrist. He flinched away. Then he looked over, expecting to see his coach, but instead seeing Tony. He relaxed slightly.
"When was the last time you ate?" He asked.
Peter huffed, "why do you care?"
"Peter, when was the last time you ate?" Tony asked seriously.
"Like, four days ago?" He responded, like it was a question.
"God, what were they telling you?" Steve asked. Peter hadn't noticed him on the other side of the bed.
"That I'm fat, that I need to work off all that holiday food weight, that I should eat less. That I should get a grip on my food intake, which is why I want this thing out of my nose, please." He answered.
"No, this is unsafe." Steve said, shaking his head, "look, Bucky went through something really similar. He had an eating disorder and he still struggles with eating sometimes, but he's so much stronger of a gymnast because he eats good. Food is for fueling your body, it makes you stronger, gives you energy. You need food, Peter."
"I'm fat." Peter responded.
"Peter, the doctors said you are critically underweight. No one can figure out how you're still performing as well as you were, and now you're really injured because of it." Tony fired back, refusing to let this talented boy look down on himself or his body any longer, "and you won't be around coaches who tell you that you're fat anymore either."
"What?" Peter asked.
"Bud, Hydra broke off their contract with you. They don't want to train you anymore." Steve said slowly.
Peter looked forward, acknowledging neither of the two coaches beside him, "what do I do now?"
"Well... We were wondering if you wanted to work with Avengers Tumbling instead?" Tony asked.
Peter looked over and smiled weakly. He didn't respond.
He wasn't sure he wanted to do any of this anymore, but over the course of his recovery he found he missed it too much to ever leave it behind.
Peter was with avengers tumbling from that day forward.
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This is very niche
And I don't know if it will read over well
But I had the idea so I had to write it