The building was coming down. Great chunks of grey concrete come tumbling down, obscuring his view of Toomes, Liz's dad, the Vulture. Whoever. There was nothing he could do to stop the tons of rock from knocking him to the ground and crushing him. He was pinned, trapped beneath the enormous weight as he choked on dust, his own blood and strained sobs. There was no one here, no one to help him. Mr. Stark couldn't come swooping in to save him this time. He screamed anyways, dust settling on his tongue thickly. Broken sobs burst from his wounded chest as the pain and severity of his position struck him. Every breath hurt, but he had to get out. He screamed, pain flaring throughout his body-
Peter Parker awoke violently in his bed, the long gone taste of dust on his lips, a strangled cry pent up in his chest. He shook, choking back the scream. His hands gripped the soft sheets, his eyes tracing the familiar features of his room. He tried to control his ragged breath as his eyes slid over the posters of his favorite sci-fi movieson his walls. He was in his room in the new Avengers Facility, he recognized with relief.
Shakily, Peter swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood, a hand extended for balance. He made his way to the window, sliding up a pane and sighing in relief as the cool air washed over his feverish face. Suddenly he couldn't stand being under a roof, however stable, not with the image of the warehouse collapsing fresh in his mind. Peter carefully climbed out, crawling two stories down the side of the building until with an easy flip he landed in a crouch on the manicured lawn.
"That's better," he said to himself in relief. A sudden sound to his right had him whipping his head around, muscles tensing.
Steve was approaching slowly, a small smile on his face. The legendary hero looked amazingly normal in pajama pants and a white tank. His hair was slightly messy, probably from sleep. Peter's ears twitched with every step Cap took, his sensitive hearing objecting to the quiet disruption.
"What're you doing here?" Peter asked in surprise, forcing himself to relax.
Steve raised an eyebrow. "Getting some air. You know, as cool as it is you can walk down a wall, you could always take the door," he said, gesturing to the open entryway behind him, then cocked his head when Peter didn't respond. "Or did you not want anyone to know you're out here?"
"I, um, couldn't sleep," Peter mumbled.
Steve sighed and sat down on the grass, tipping his head back to look at the stars. "Me, too, kid."
"Really?" Peter asked, shock evident in his expression. He sat down next to the first Avenger.
"Yeah. Sam says I have PTSD," Steve offered casually, clearly not understanding the significance of that diagnosis. "All I know is that I wake up from a dream of fighting with the Howling Commandos and wake up in a bed that's too soft, like a marshmallow. Its disorientating, to say the least."
Somehow it had never occurred to Peter that Steve might still be adjusting to the twenty-first century. He'd been out of the ice for nearly a decade now and he used technology so easily now. And yet simple, daily things Peter took for granted would be glaringly different to Steve, sending him to the familiar outdoors in the middle of the night where one could almost imagine it was the 1940s. From where Peter and Steve sat, all they could see was a long stretch of lawn and a chain-link fence. Peter imagined it looked similar to an army camp, not that he had ever been to one.
"That's why I come out here," Steve continued calmly as Peter leaned back on his hands to watch the stars. "When I was in Europe during the war, Bucky and I would talk all night before missions. I can't even remember what about, except that the war was never mentioned. That was the one rule. It helped calm me before we fought the next day. I still find the stars calming even all these years later. They look exactly the same as they did seventy-five years ago. I can't say that about much else." The soldier sighed. "They used to be more visible though."
"I can't imagine seeing any more stars than this," Peter offered, the terror from his nightmare draining away under the influence of Steve's soothing voice and the sparkling stars. "I can barely see them in Queens. This is incredible."
"Remind me to take you camping sometime," Steve said with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Us city kids need to get out more."
Peter managed a smile. He hadn't spent much time with the First Avenger, one on one. Peter mostly spent time with Tony and Bruce in the labs or Natasha for his hand-to-hand combat lessons. Steve led the most missions as the leader of the Avengers, so he was away often. Peter was only allowed to go if his skills would be invaluable for the assignment. Which wasn't often, but he didn't complain. The fiasco with Toomes had only shown him that he wasn't ready to handle everything that the other Avengers did. He was okay with that, as long as they would train him to get to that point. Steve was always kind to the sort-of Avenger, which made Peter like him.
"You alright, son? You don't seem as talkative as usual," Steve said lightly, but Peter could tell he was trying to get him to open up.
The teen pulled at the grass with his hands, yanking out the innocent blades. The taste of dust was gone with the night breeze. Even though Peter understood and wanted to accept Steve's offer of an open ear, he held himself back. The soldier had already admitted to having PTSD. Peter had no right to add his own trauma onto Steve's. Besides, the incident with Toomes happened months ago. The nightmares will fade on their own, with enough time. They had to.
"It was nothing, just a bad dream," Peter said with faked nonchalance, which didn't even sound convincing to his own ears.
Cap saw right through it. He sighed, causing Peter to stiffen as the soldier looked over at the youngest Avenger. Peter resolved to ask Natasha how to lie better and disguise his expressions. Otherwise he very might well be the world's worst liar, which seems like a bad trait for a superhero. Especially one who was still keeping one's identity undisclosed.
"Did you know Sam has to take sleeping pills most nights to fall asleep?" Steve asked rhetorically. Peter stilled, listening intently to him. "I tried them too, but my metabolism burned them off too quickly for them to take effect. Clint takes the same pills sometimes, usually when Nat isn't here. Rhodey has this therapist he visits twice a week. And nightmares? Kid, everyone has those. Wanda, Natasha, Bruce, Bucky, Tony-"
"Tony has nightmares?" Peter interrupted in surprise.
Steve smiled humorlessly. "Tony's been through a lot. I'm pretty sure he's worse than all of us but he tries to deal with it by himself. That's why he's in his lab all night, working. Its one way to avoid nightmares, even if it means consuming an unhealthy amount of caffeine." He made eye contact with the teen, who looked so small curled up on the grass, hair messy and eyes drooping. "What I'm saying is that you're not alone in this. We all understand, and we'll all help however we can."
"I don't know if I can talk about it," Peter said in a small voice, flushing in embarrassment.
"I understand," Steve assured him kindly. "But you also have to take care of yourself, Peter. If you're not sleeping you'll be a liability in a fight, not an asset. You have to let us know if you aren't ready for something. We'll understand if you need to sit some things out."
"To take a nap?!" Peter exclaimed, shaking his head violently. "No, no way! Everyone already treats me like a kid, if I sit out it'd get even worse!"
Steve frowned as the depth of Peter's insecurities came out. It was clear from his expression he hadn't realized how tenuous Peter believe his position among the Avengers to be. Not that the teen had admitted that fear to anyone, even Tony. Which he should have been able to do. He should have been able to trust the other's enough to tell them anything. And yet he hadn't.
"Let me explain what I'm going to say next before you object, okay?" Steve opened with. Peter nodded hesitantly. "You are a kid, Pete. I know you're sick of hearing that, but it's true. And it terrifies all of us."
"What? Why? You're the Avengers! You're not scared of anything!
Steve smiled sadly. "If only that were true. We're all scared of something. And we're all scared you're going to end up just like us. Paranoid, traumatized, mistrustful, sleepless. We want better for you because you're an amazing, smart kid with your whole future ahead of you. You don't have to choose this dangerous life, you can still walk away. Its hypocritical, yes, but we feel like we should spare you from all this." Steve grinned wryly. "Apparently we've failed. Most of us were dragged into this life when we were younger, without knowing the personal consequences. I was just a bit older than you when I let a scientist inject me with an untested serum. I'd like to think I'd agree to the experiment again, even knowing how jacked up I'd get, but I really don't know. And you didn't choose your powers, Peter."
"Maybe not, but I'm glad I have them," he replied, looking thoughtfully down at his hands. Something so normal looking, but possessing incredible strength. "I tried sleeping pills too. They wore off too quickly." He hesitated before continuing in a softer voice. "I have this nightmare where I'm trapped under tons of concrete, like when I fought Toomes. That's why I came outside. So there's nothing over my head."
Steve nodded and placed a comforting hand on Peter's shoulder. The last panicked remnants from his dream faded away, a wonderful cathartic feeling. They both watched the stars in comfortable silence for a few more moments.
"If you ever want to talk, I'm here for you," Steve offered, smiling at the teen whose eyelids were getting lower and lower. "But if you want to talk to someone who actually knows how to deal with this stuff, Sam would help you. He used to work with military veterans, before I roped him into this."
"You did a pretty good job anyways," Peter mumbled, somehow laying down when a moment ago he'd been sitting.
A warm feeling spread through the soldier's chest. "Thanks, Pete."
The young superhero soon fell asleep on the soft grass beneath the stars. His head lulled to the side, leaning against Steve's leg. Steve smiled and carefully lifted up the teen and carried him back inside. The hero smiled at his precious bundle, suddenly feeling sleepy himself. Maybe all he had needed was someone to talk to also.