Very VERY important trigger warning:

Mildly graphic description of rape. If this is a trigger for you, please do not read this chapter. If you want to know what happened, please feel free to PM me for a short chapter summary.

Enjoy!

Peter couldn't breathe. Admittedly, it was a sensation he'd gotten used to over the past few years, but he supposed it still was probably not great. But he couldn't help it. Every time he closed his eyes, Mr Benson's leering face grinned sickly at him, filling his mind with panic.

His chest rose sporadically, his lungs screaming for air. He was in the classroom after school, his teacher's disappointed face-

No, he was in the tower, he was safe!

The older man speaking gently, almost regretfully, as though really did care about Peter, as though he really didn't want to do this to hi-

I'm fine, I'm safe, Jesus Parker, get a fucking grip. Come on, breathe!

Hands gripping Peter's hips hard enough to bruise. Lips, hot and wet on his skin, bit and licked, violating every inch of his crawling skin. The bruising grip on his hips moved to the waistline of his jeans. Swiftly, expertly, the invading hands removed his pants, as well as his underwear. He stood there, naked and humiliated, his teacher's eyes roving over his lower half, then the eyes were followed by his hands. Suddenly Peter was pushed over a desk, and Mr Benson's hands were replaced by something… else. It burned, hot and cruel and angry, and Peter wanted to scream. His insides were tearing, being filled by something wrong, that shouldn't be there. And still those bruising hands, and still that wet mouth, and Peter had never felt so disgusting, so violated, so wrong. And everything was too bright and too strong and too loud and too much and Peter still couldn't breathe but he screamed.

Bucky couldn't sleep. His mind was on other things. Namely, the 16-year-old in the Med Bay of the tower. Peter. The kid. His kid, practically, once he thought about it. The two men, one older and one younger, just seemed to click. Peter brightened his day with his sharp wit, kindness and boundless enthusiasm, and in return Bucky kept him stable and sane in a world of insanity and danger. He protected Peter.

So when Peter started screaming with enough force to be heard from the other side of the floor, Bucky was already tearing to his side.

"Hey, Pete kiddo, wake up. Come on, it's only a dream. I'm here." A litany of comfort and love poured from his lips, urging the boy to wake. And wake he did.

"No! Please, s-stop, I'm sorry! Please." the boy said brokenly.

"Shh, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

Peter gasped. "Can't- can't breathe. Bucky, help me I-I can't breathe and it hurts so much and-"

The silver armed man's insistent voice cut through the haze of Peter's mind. Taking the boy's hand in his own living one, he gently pulled him up to a sitting position.

"Okay Peter, I know this is hard, but you need to breathe. Come on kiddo, listen to my breathing okay? Hear how steady it is?"

Peter nodded shakily.

"Good. Now, I want you to match your breathing to mine, alright? Breathe with me: in for four counts, hold for seven, and out for eight."

Together, the two men breathed in the night, one steady and calm, the other slowly becoming so himself.

It was one A.M when Bucky judged Peter calm enough.

"Hey kiddo, do you want me to leave, or would you prefer I stay?"

Peter glanced up shyly. He gnawed on his lip for a moment, then replied.

"If- if you don't mind, I'd like it if you stayed."

"Of course kiddo." Bucky said easily. He settled Peter back down and sat on the chair beside the teen's bed.

"Actually, um, I don't want to weird or clingy or anything but would you mind um, this sounds really weird, but will you come into, um, into my bed with me I just don't want to be alone and the bed is kinda cold and oh god this sounds weird Jesus Christ just ignore what I've said I'm so stupid I'm sorry I-"

"Peter. Shut up."

The teen stopped babbling and looked at Bucky with wide, embarrassed eyes.

"Of course I will. I 100% understand what it's like to need physical comfort and security. Now lie down again and I'll snuggle with you till morning." Bucky's heart swelled for the young man in the bed beside him. It took a lot of courage for people his age, especially boys, to ask for physical affection in that way (in other words, hugs), particularly with other men. Of course, what did it mean for Peter's mental state that he was in need of that much comfort?

Who has hurt my Peter? I will kill them. Slowly and painfully. I swear it."

"Hmm. Warm."

So thought Peter as he slowly and groggily woke.

"Wait. Why is it so warm? Not that I'm complaining, but…"

He lethargically blinked his eyes, trying to clear them of the gunk that clogged them. Wow. He couldn't remember the last time he slept this well. Normally he woke up due to nightmares or-

Oh.

As the memories from last night flooded back into his mind, he realised that he was cocooned in Bucky's arms, and the taller, broader man was curled around him, as though still protecting Peter even in his sleep. Even as he watched, though, the soldier opened his eyes and smiled sleepily at Peter.

"Hey there kiddo," he greeted softly.

Peter blushed. Hard.

"Oh, uh, hey Bucky, how are you, I mean good morning um yeah. Hi."

Oh my god Peter get a grip on yourself.

To Peter's surprise, Bucky merely smiled at him once more and asked him whether he'd like breakfast. With a start Peter realised that he was, in fact, incredibly hungry, and he nodded enthusiastically.

"All right then kiddo, let's get some food into you. And then we are going to talk about last night."

Peter gulped.

Bucky eyed Peter as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The young teen was half-heartedly picking at his food, obviously nervous about the coming conversation.

"Eat."

The boy scowled lightly and glared at his plate. He released a frustrated breath and dropped his cutlery, his small, slender hands forming fists in his lap.

"I just… it's not that I'm not hungry, I am; it's just that I feel like I'll be sick if I eat anything. So, I guess if I don't eat anything I won't be sick, and that's better for everyone."

Oh Peter, please let me help you.

"Peter, please just eat something. You're actually going to die if you don't."

Bucky thought he would receive any kind of answer from the boy. What Peter responded with made his heart stop.

"Maybe…. Maybe I'd prefer that outcome."

Fuck. No, no, no that's wrong he can't mean it no no no no nono.

"Peter. Please, tell me you don't mean that. Tell me you don't…"

The resigned look on his face. The lowered eyes. Fiddling hands. All of these, pieced together, showed Bucky the truth.

"Okay." Breathe. "Okay." In. Out. Breathe. "How long have you felt this way?"

"I… since my Uncle Ben died. Two months after I became Spiderman."

"Peter, that's almost two years! How has no one noticed?"

"Well I don't exactly parade the fact around do I? I don't need to give people any more reason to think I'm a freak, they think that enough as it is."

Bucky's heart broke for the 16-year-old sat across from him. He himself could remember feeling a similar way after coming back to himself out of the control HYDRA had over him. But he was an adult, with friends he could trust to help him.

Peter, on the other hand, well…..

He was a kid. How could he be expected to deal with this kind of thing?

Bucky didn't know, but he sure as hell was going to find out.

Peter was confused. Why did Bucky care? After all, Peter was just some pathetic little kid. Someone who couldn't fight off-

NO!

Panting, the teen forcefully directed his mind away from that topic and glared sullenly down at his breakfast. Bucky had left the table, so he was alone with his thoughts. Or so he thought.

"Hello маленький паук."

Peter cursed and spun around wildly to face Tasha.

"Oh my god Nat, please never do that again. I don't think my heart could take it."

The former assassin laughed, light and airy, and lowered herself gracefully into the seat beside the boy.

"No promised kiddo."

She sat there silently for a moment, seemingly studying the adolescent facing her. Eventually Peter grew impatient.

"What? What is it?"

Natasha seemed to jolt herself out of a trance, and grinned at the boy.

"Don't you have school today?"

"SHIT!"