A/N: Sup losers (I'm sorry, I love you). So if you haven't read my other fic, Not Like This, then you probably won't know what this is yet. Basically it's a prequel to Not Like This, and Peter's backstory is very, very different. You don't have to read the other fic to read this (Not Like This is still In Progress), and the other one is just the Avenger's reacting to Pete's past (plus more angst) There will be the Avengers later, much later, in this story, but with mentions throughout of them. I should also mention that this is a very dark story, much darker and more graphic than Not Like This. The first chapter is basically leading up to Peter's life, it does have him as a baby in it, and the story will contain one or two OCs, but the main characters will be from the MCU, or a couple from the original spidey films (as side characters)
With that being said, I hope you enjoy this fic, and if you want to, you can check out Not Like This (shameless plug bitches)
Warning: CONTAINS 'GRAPHIC' DEPICTIONS OF ABUSE, SEXUAL, EMOTIONAL AND PHYSICAL, CONTAINS MENTAL ILLNESSES, INCLUDING DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, PTSD, CONTAINS SELF-HARM, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND ACTIONS, AND BLATANT REFERENCES AND DEPICTIONS OF DRUG USE. THERE WILL BE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS FOR EACH CHAPTER. IN LATER CHAPTERS, IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO HAVE TO READ ANYTHING CONCERNING THESE WARNINGS, DM ME AND I WILL FILL YOU IN. PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU THINK IT WILL TRIGGER OR AFFECT YOU IN ANY WAY.
I don't know how much clearer I can get with that, I hope you enjoy me torturing one of the best characters in the MCU ;)
There are some things that Richard Parker cannot figure out. Like how he went to Brown, when he spent his whole life dreaming about going to Harvard. Or how his brother Ben always seemed to have his entire life figured out, when Richard couldn't even decide on what to have for breakfast. Or how he ended up getting on the first flight available as soon as he was handed his diploma and left college. Said flight was headed straight for Paris, France, and he hesitated only to text his brother that he was leaving before boarding the plane. Paris was good, he guessed. Not as exciting as all the rom-coms his Mom used to watch made out. Which was why he left after a week, and went to Madrid. After a month he went to London. And two months later he went to Milan, Italy. And damn, was that a genius move on his part. Well… Maybe choosing to stay near Piazza Duca D'Aosta wasn't so smart. His wallet was stolen on the first day. But, screw that. It only had American dollars in it, he put his euros in a separate purse. Sighing, as he realised that he's need to get a new credit card and driver's license, Richard went into a building called Maio Bar Bistro, and ordered a coffee. Sipping it thoughtfully, he scrolled through the emails on his phone, purposefully ignoring the ones from Ben. So his Mom had died. So what? The old hag probably had it coming.
"Stai incontrando qualcuno?" Richard's head jerked up, to see a fairly pretty blonde woman staring down at him.
"Huh? Sorry what?" He asked dumbly. So much for those PhDs.
"Oh. Un americano." The woman giggled, and slid into the booth opposite him. She cocked her head to the side, and smirked at him. "Maria," she stuck out her hand. "But you can call me Mary.
"Richard," he took her hand and kissed it gently, causing her to giggle again. "And no, you can't call me Dick."
"I wasn't planning to." Mary chuckled, showing perfect white teeth. Richard smiled in response. "What?" She asked.
"You laugh a lot. It's nice." He said, reaching for his coffee, only for Mary to take it and drink from the china cup. "Oh, now you go too far." He joked, and took the cup off her and wiped off the red smudge of lipstick on the rim. "Sei molto grasso."
"Excuse me?" Mary exclaimed loudly, causing several people to glare in their direction.
"What?"
"I'm not fat tu cazzi."
"I never said you were!"
"Sei molto grasso translates to 'You are very fat'."
"Shit, I am so sorry, uh, Mi dispiace, I meant to say 'You're very bold', you know, because you drank my coffee…" Richard's voice trailed off slightly at the end under the woman's impending glare. To his surprise, Mary began to laugh. He felt confidence begin to seep into him again. "I guess I mixed up 'Grassetto' and 'Grasso'."
In between snorts, Mary managed to speak. "But 'You are very bold' is 'Sei molto audace'. You can't just string words together, there are certain ways to speak here!" She continued to laugh, and took another sip of Richard's coffee. Staring at the gorgeous woman sitting across from him, Richard began to smile. Maybe Italy was the right place to visit.
Let's just say that after their initial meeting, things moved fast between Richard and Mary. Two months after Richard accidentally called the love of his life fat, they were moving into a townhouse together, still in Milan. A month after that Richard proposed. By the end of the year they were married. Ben, to put it simply, was not happy with Richard. At all. But did Richard care? Not in the slightest. So what if Ben had met someone? So what if that someone was his first girlfriend since Junior Year of high school? So what if they got married six months after Richard and Mary did? Honestly, the American-turned-Italian couldn't even remember the whore's name. It was Margaret, or Melissa or something akin to that. Red hair, med student, blah, blah, blah. Who gives a shit anyway? Not Richard at least.
Before Richard could even begin to comprehend how fast time was flying, it was his and Mary's three-year-anniversary. And then it was the biggest New Years in a millennia, the year 2000. Ben tried to contact Richard again, but no way was Richard answering that phone call. It wasn't until January, 2001 that things began to spice up between the couple. Mary was pregnant. Richard could barely believe it, pregnant! His wife! His wife was going to have a baby, or as he soon found out two babies! Twins, a boy and a girl, due in September. As much as he wanted to call his older brother in that moment, he refrained, knowing it would just end in a fight. Instead he kissed his beautiful, beautiful wife, and called all his new business friends. In Italian. It was hard, but Richard finally figured out the language, and was able to converse fluently with everyone he came across.
He soon realised how much he hated not being able to drink. Mary had begged him to stay sober with her for the duration of the pregnancy, and he had reluctantly agreed. It wasn't like he was a raging alcoholic, but, yeah, Richard enjoyed having a 'beer with the boys' once in a while. He guessed that was why the lying started. He started 'working at the lab later' to 'make enough to provide for a family of four', and Mary believed him. Why wouldn't she? Her husband had always been loyal, and gracious, and honest. They spoke about things, it was their shtick. It was a running joke at the lab, how open they were with each other. And Mary was trusting in nature, it was why she fell for Richard so quickly.
And there she was, sitting up waiting for him every night, seven months pregnant, trusting that he was simply working himself harder, completely oblivious to his daily late night drinking. And it wasn't like she was lonely. Her parents came by most days, and she loved their company, but it wasn't the same as having her partner there every night. That was why she decided to visit him that night at the lab. Not because she didn't trust him. Mary would always trust him. She just wanted to hang out with her husband instead of her parents for once.
"Ehi, Cheryl," Mary walked towards the British secretary. "Richard è nel suo ufficio?" Upon seeing the young woman's confusion, she translated. "Is Richard in his office?"
"Oh!" Cheryl laughed lightly, tapping her nails on the desk. "No, he isn't. He leaves at three, you know that."
Mary forced a laugh, and stared at her in surprise. "Yeah, but he's been working later recently. Doing overtime for questi due furfanti"
"He has?" The secretary asked, raising her eyebrows. Typing on her computer, she scrunched up her face. "It says here that he's left at three every day for the last two weeks, except last Friday, when he left at half four."
"Wha-" Mary got out, placing one hand on the desk to steady herself, and the other rubbed her stomach anxiously. "Are you sure?"
"Positive." Cheryl said grimly.
"Figlio di puttana." Mary muttered, and without another word, she left Cheryl at the desk. Checking her watch on the way out, she saw that it was past six.
He's been lying, he's been lying, ha mentito, ha mentito. Mary's brain seemed to have frozen, those few words being the only thing running through her head. Stumbling through the oddly deserted streets, she prayed that this was all a big misunderstanding. Mary had never been a very religious person, to her parent's dismay, but she found herself praying to every damn god or deity she could think of. Unlocking the door, she hoped he'd be sitting in the living room watching the footie, scoffing down a bag of chips, or maybe cooking dinner. He wasn't. The house was empty. She opened a bottle of red wine, and started to pour some out, before remembering the obvious- pregnant equals no alcohol. She poured the glass down the sink and sank onto the plump couch. Her head pounded, but she didn't think she'd be able to get a glass of water without passing out.
It wasn't until nine that night that Richard returned home. Mary heard the keys in the lock but didn't get up to greet him at the door like she usually did. He could come to her. "Babe?" She heard his confuse, borderline concerned voice travel through the house. She listened to him shrug of his coat and hang it up, deposit his keys in a bowl, and pop his head around the door. "Mary? Stai bene?"
"Me? Oh I'm fine. Positively glowing." She replied snarkily. Richard laughed awkwardly.
"Yeah, well that is typically a sign of pregnancy."
"I know you haven't been at work." Mary blurted out, immediately regretting it, as she saw the look on her husband's face darken.
"What, have you been stalking me now?" Richard said after a minute or so. His voice was low and gravelly, and unlike anything she'd heard from Richard before.
"N-no, I just thought I'd surprise you at work, and Cheryl tells me you haven't been staying past three!" Mary stands up at this point, huffing as her entire body protests.
"Fucking cunt." Richard mutters, turning away, and turning away from her.
"What? You like Cheryl, she's an absolute doll, remember?" Her husband swearing wasn't unusual, but directing his anger at another person definitely was.
"Oh yeah, Cheryl's fine. Gorgeous, nice tits too. No, I meant you." He turned around and growled at her on the last word, fists clenching.
Mary gaped at his looming figure, heart clenching as she took in his words. "What?" She looked at her husband more carefully. "You're drunk."
Richard mimed clapping. "Now she gets it."
"But- but I thought we agreed you wouldn't drink until the babies were born?"
"Yeah, we did."
"And, th-that's where you been every night? Getting hammered with your f-friends?" Mary could feel herself becoming close to tears. "You wouldn't be complimenting someone else's tits otherwise. Che cazzo?"
"You think this has been easy for me?" Richard roared, causing Mary to flinch back. "You seriously think that I wanted to stay sober for you? I didn't even have to, it's your body that's feeding those- those creatures!"
"You said you'd stay sober because you love me." Mary whispered, tears finally escaping her damp eyes.
"Oh, babe. I do love you. I just don't like this fucking situation."
"What situation? Me being pregnant? Is that it? I thought you wanted these kids-"
"And who told you that?" Richard asked, voice so low, Mary almost didn't hear him.
"Y-you did."
"Oh, yeah, I did," Richard straightened up, and flashed his wife a smile. "What's for dinner, love?"
"Wha-" She was cut off by Richard pressing a kiss to her lips.
"I'm sorry. You're right I'm drunk. Let's order in, have some coffee, and just relax." He walked over to the phone and called a local takeaway, leaving Mary still in tears. She didn't understand how he had gone from screaming to affectionate so quickly. He was talking and laughing on the phone in succinct Italian, in such a normal manor, that she began to wonder if she'd imagined the entire thing. Pregnancy can make you think weird things... right?
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Mary didn't like labour, not in the slightest. It was too soon, the twins weren't due for another month. Having Richard right next to her was comforting, but stressful at the same time. Since their initial fight, Richard had lost his temper a few more times. The last time, he threw an ashtray at her head, but fortunately it missed her. She didn't blame him. Mary shouldn't have pushed him to open up about him and Cheryl. If only she wasn't so needy all the time.
So, yeah, it was stressful not knowing when she'd screw up next, but he was being so supportive through her giving birth, Mary was convinced it was getting better. It had to. She didn't know what she'd do if it didn't.
"Dai, solo un'altra spinta, un'altra!" The doctor urged, and with a scream, Mary felt temporary relief wash over her body. "It's the boy!" A nurse said, grabbing the too small baby as soon as the cord had been cut. Richard made to get up and follow the nurse, before remembering that there was a whole other baby to deliver. He sighed, as the doctor prepped his wife for the second birth.
Peter and Ava Parker were born on the 10th of August 2001. Both averaging six pounds, they weren't as small as the hospital staff expected. It wasn't a happy day, per se; Mary stared at her husband holding Ava, and tried to look for any change in his demeanor, or attitude. He was smiling. That was it. His eyes were hollow as he stared down at his daughter, and it was at that point that Mary knew she should have gotten an abortion before Richard even found out she was pregnant. Maybe then she would have been safe. She held Peter close to her, tighter than she should have been, but she didn't care. The newborn wriggled in her grasp but she didn't let go. After a few minutes the nurse came back in to check on the babies, forcing Mary to let go.
She had heard a lot about mothers being nervous and anxious at the prospect of being separated from their babies so soon after birth, but Mary didn't feel anything at that point, except a numbing sense of relief. And if she was being honest, it terrified her far more than Richard ever could.
For the first maybe two months, Richard was happy. He had the perfect job, a gorgeous wife, two surprisingly well behaved babies- but it was still wrong. He had no reason to hide the fact that he was still going to the bar every night. Mary had the twins on formula, so she could have alcohol as well, but he still insisted on drinking by himself. Well. Not that he was by himself necessarily. Cheryl was a lovely girl indeed, and it was only right that she had someone older, more experienced, showing her the ropes. And that was why after Richard drank himself into a frenzy every night, he would go and visit Cheryl and… bond with her. Intimately. And frequently. And sometimes more than once in a night.
And so what if this relationship had been going on far longer than Mary had been pregnant, probably closer to two years rather than the eleven months that children had been involved with Richard and Mary? He was a man, he had needs, and desires too, and Mary wasn't exactly active in bed. In hindsight, he probably should have convinced Cheryl to get an abortion, rather than let her go through having his son, but oh well. Now he had three kids- twins who were two months old, and Mark, who had just turned one. It was going well, and Mary didn't ever need to know that there was another woman. Although, it seemed like she already knew, after their last fight, though thankfully she didn't know about the kid. It was fine, and as soon as he could, her was going to leave Mary for the younger model. It was a foolproof plan.
At least, that's what he told himself every night. And looking back, Richard probably should have told Cheryl about his plan too.
Mary had just settled herself in her favourite armchair near the fire. The twins were finally asleep. She was watching this soap opera that her friend had gotten her into. She was the picture of domesticality, and was loving it. Kind of. I mean, sure, she'd like to be able to go back to work, but Richard was right, Mary worked so hard with the kids and the house everyday, it was better for her to stay home. And yeah, it would be really nice to have a date night once in a while, maybe get a babysitter, but Richard worked harder than Mary ever could, and if he'd rather have a quiet night to himself once in a while, then he deserved that. He knew exactly what was right for her, and if Richard said that Mary's parents were too judgemental of him, and too clingy with Mary and the babies, then he was right; she'd have to cut them out of her life, so she did. Because let's face it, what was Mary without Richard? It would be like Bert without Ernie, or Ron without Harry- they would be nothing without their counterpart, so Mary worshipped her husband. What else could she do?
Luca had just proposed to Sara on the television, when Mary heard a knock at the door. Opening said door, she was faced with Cheryl, holding a bundle of blankets in her arms. It was pouring with rain outside, and Cheryl's makeup was running down her face- Mary couldn't tell if it was from the rain, or from the tears streaming down the girl's face.
"Gesù Cristo," Mary muttered, eyes widening. "What's wrong miele?"
"I- I can't do this anymore, it's- it's too much, I don't want to keep this a secret anymore, I ca-can't do it!" Cheryl's voice was frantic, and she was shaking so much, Mary was worried she'd implode, or something akin to that.
"Do what Cheryl? Come inside, c'è così tanta pioggia."
"No, no I can't, I need- I need to tell you-"
"Tell me what?" Mary frowned.
"Richard!" The girl suddenly screamed, clutching the bundle of blankets tighter. "Richard, come here, you... dick!"
"Sweetie, shh, come on, tell me what's wrong!" Mary tried to coax her inside, but Cheryl was adamant.
"Tell him-" she hiccuped. "Tell him, 'I'm done'." And with that, she thrust the blankets at Mary, and took off down the garden path. As she was about to follow, she heard soft whimpers coming from the blanket. Gasping, she looked down into the face of a small child. Cheering could be heard from the television in the next room.
Blood. A lot of blood. Mary pressed a wad of toilet paper to her forehead, as she wiped away the tears on her cheeks. He didn't mean it, he didn't mean it, non intendeva quello, non intendeva quello. He was just angry, that was all. Angry that Mary found out about his illegitimate son. Who wouldn't be mad at that?
He'd apologised straight after. Begged Mary to forgive him. Even got down on his knees and hugged her round her middle. He said he'd kill himself if she left. He couldn't live without her, that meant he loved Mary. He had to love Mary, because who else ever would? So she forgave him. Because it was only one time. He's only ever hurt her one time, and she provoked him, she shouldn't have provoked him.
No one else would love her the way he did. Why would they? Why should they?
There is no Mary without Richard, there is no Mary without Richard, there is no Mary without Richard.
Peter Parker wasn't like his twin. Sure, he was only four months old, but you can tell a lot about babies by how they react to certain situations, especially with twins. How do they cope being away from their mother, ther father, their twin, their older sibling, their favourite stuffed toy? How do they react if they don't get their diaper changed, if they don't get enough sleep, enough food? Peter Parker cried. All babies cried, it was what they do. But Peter Parker cried silently. No noise, no fuss. And Richard hated it. Mark cried, Ava cried (a lot), and they were so noisy. But you could tell when a baby needed something if they made noise. You could tell that they were hurting. But if you couldn't see Peter Parker's face, you would have no idea that he was upset at all. And Richard, being a scientist, wanted to see how far he could push the baby until he did make noise. Not just normal baby gurgles. He wanted Peter Parker to scream in agony. Using a lighter on the bottom of his feet worked well. Pinching his arm didn't. Sleep deprivation didn't seem to do much, and neither did restricting his food. Separating him from his sister worked wonders though. He'd scream all through the night. He hated being by himself, which meant Richard could punish Peter Parker and spend quality time with his family simultaneously. He didn't know why he wanted to hurt his youngest son. He just did.
He didn't allow Mary to get Peter vaccinated when he and Ava turned six months old. Maybe the little bugger would die from exposure. Turn Richard into a martyr for the pro-vaccination community- make Mary the evil anti-vac Mom who killed her only biological son. Ava got vaccinated, and Mark had already been vaccinated- poor little Peter, already so likely to die at the hands of his father. Richard was having fun.