Hey! Me again. I'm struggling with where I want this story to go next so it may be a while until the next chapter. As always take care of yourself and do not read if this may be triggering to you. TRIGGER WARNING- Mentions of child sexual abuse (No major details, but it is described)

They don't speak about it for a few days. Natasha wants to give him space and let him choose when and what to tell her. (However, that doesn't mean she isn't tempted to try and track down whatever son-of-a-bitch did this to Peter)

She's starting to lose hope that he'll come to her, when Peter knocks on her door.

"Ms. Black Widow? Can I speak to you for a minute? I, uh, need to ask you something," He mumbles.

"Call me Natasha, Peter. And yes, you may come in," she responds.

Peter slowly opens the door and walks just far enough into the room to close the door behind him.

He clears his throat and begins to speak, "Ms. Black, uh, Natasha, uh Nat, can I call you Nat? Natasha just sounds really formal and everything…"

Natasha cuts off his nervous rambling "Nat is fine"

Peter continues, "Okay…Nat it is…I just wanted to make sure you hadn't….you know….said anything about the other night to anyone. I don't really want people knowing. They'd worry and it's not a big deal."

He looks at his feet and wrings his hands nervously as he waits for her reply.

"Of course not Peter" she says softly. "I wouldn't betray your trust like that." she pauses, "But it is a big deal."

Peter shakes his head, "It really isn't. It's not like I was raped or anything. It was just some touching or whatever." He runs his hand through his hair as he continues to stare at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

She sighs. This is going to be harder than she thought. "Peter, no matter what happened, it was a big deal. None of it is okay." He looks up at her for a moment, before returning his gaze downward. "If you want," she continues slowly "you can tell me what happened. I won't judge you. Sometimes it helps to get it off your chest…...And I won't tell anyone. As long as you aren't still in danger, this will remain between us."

"You really don't have to." Peter says, "I don't even know where I'd start. And I don't want to trigger you or burden you. I can handle it."

"I wouldn't offer if I couldn't handle it Peter. I'd like to know what happened so I can help, that is if you are ready to talk about it" She sits quietly to give him a chance to decide.

Peter plops down on the edge of her bed and sighs.

"I….. I know I need to tell someone….. but I don't think I physically can. The words, they get all stuck, you know? And I can't, I can't get them out." He lowers his head between his knees. He can't bring himself to look Natasha in the eye.

"Yeah, I do know. Would it help if I ask questions?"

He looks up and nods his head, continuing to avoid eye contact "Yeah, that'd be okay I guess."

After thinking for a moment, she decides to start with a less invasive question, "You said you were nine…Can you tell me how long it went on?"

"Umm, not that long. A year maybe?" He shrugs.

"Okay" She thinks. "We are getting somewhere."

She continues, "How often did this happen?"

He takes a moment to think before speaking, "A couple of times a month, I think."

"Can you tell me about who did this?"

"He was in his thirties. I don't remember his age exactly. Everyone liked him though. Especially Aunt May," he chuckles bitterly "He had them all fooled. A real sheep in wolf's clothing."

She gives him a moment before asking the next question, "What did he do Peter?"

He curls into himself so his face is hidden before responding.

"He, uh, made me touch him, you know, down there," he whispers, "and he touched me down there too. And he…he…." He doesn't think he can say it.

"He what Peter?" Natasha probes gently.

He takes a breath and forces himself to answer, "hemademeputmymouthonhisprivateparts"

(There. Now he's said it. Oh God what if she hates him? What if she thinks he didn't have it bad enough and is just looking for attention?)

That fucking bastard! Peter won't ever have to worry about him again. I'll make sure of that. Natasha closes her eyes and gathers herself before speaking.

"Who?" is all she says.

"His name was Steven, but everyone called him Skip. His last name was Wesley? No, Westcott. He was my youth pastor."

Thankfully, Natasha has perfected her poker face. Because inside she is raging, and she doesn't want Peter to think she is upset with him.

"Did you tell anyone?"

"You." Peter answers quietly.

"Oh, Peter" she sighs, pulling him into a hug.