cold
so cold
the water filling his lungs
I can't breath
help
please help me
I don't want to die
I don't want to die alone
Was he drowning, or falling?
both
Will he ever reach the ground?
water in his lungs, his veins
suffocating
help
HELP!
Peter's eyes shot open but his body refused to move. It was like an invisible weight was holding down his body, refusing to let it move. Other than his lungs, which were moving at rapid speeds, taking in shaky breaths that Peter couldn't even get out, his body was as still as a statue. His eyes opened wide as he tried in a vain attempt to comfort himself from the dream. From the nightmare.
Peter supposed that the fight at the docks earlier had triggered the memory of drowning. A memory he had long tried to hide away and forget. Right next to the memories of his uncle, of Thanos, of Tony's death. Of his failures.
Peter tried to shake the thoughts from his head. He didn't want to spiral further into his darkest moments. He was already on the verge of a panic attack, he didn't plan on making his situation worse than it already was.
He wished someone was here to help him. Like last time this happened, when Bucky held him and made him feel safe. Made him feel less alone. Maybe he should call him. Maybe he should get help–
No. What was he saying? He couldn't do that. He didn't want to push his burden off onto someone else. He didn't want anyone else to see how broken he was. If he did, he would have to acknowledge it himself. He didn't want to do that.
Peter stared up at the ceiling, still unable to get his body to move. The ceiling itself was plain. It was painted an off-white with patches of grey made from the passage of time, and dust that was never cleaned. The only thing of note was the large crack that went down the entire centre of the ceiling. Little pieces of paint around the crack had fallen to the ground and disappeared.
The ceiling wasn't interesting, but Peter couldn't move his head to look away. Nor could he find the courage to close his eyes, too scared that he might fall asleep again and be forced to face another nightmare.
So Peter lied there. Staring at the ceiling for hours. As the sun started to creep in through the cracked window, Peter remained staring straight ahead. Even as he felt movement return to his limbs, he stared at the ceiling. His stomach growled, but he remained still.
Just an empty head, with a tired body and soul to match, that has been wandering for too long to ever truly settle down. And a heart that has shattered too many times to ever be pieced back together the same way again.
After hours of nothing, Peter slowly raised into a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes with his palms and stretched out his back. It wasn't a restful night, but a long one. Longer than what Peter normally got so he guessed he should be thankful—he wasn't—but he thought that maybe he should be.
His muscles ached slightly. It had been a long time since he was last in a real fight and his body screamed out in protest at the manoeuvres he had made earlier in the day. Still, it was worth it to keep those weapons out of the buyers hands.
Peter blinked his tired eyes, which were still getting used to the bright light coming in through the window. It was at least midday by now. And despite the bright sun, it was freezing. He should use the money from earlier to get a blanket. Or three.
But first, food. Peter told himself as his stomach grumbled, starving from the lack of sustenance. Which was only made worse by the exercise he was now doing again thanks to Spider-Man. With the added movement, he was burning more calories than he could afford to eat. Which was a problem. Maybe he should pick up some more hours at the bar.
But that was a problem for later. For now, food.
Peter dragged his body out of his bed carelessly throwing the fire blanket he called his duvet back onto his bed and glanced out the window. By the clocktower in the distance Peter could tell it was 2:40pm.
Oh. It was later than he thought. Oh well, no time like the present to eat.
Digging through his pockets Peter tried to fish out the bills he had put in his pocket earlier when he returned. In his left pocket, instead of finding his cash, he found three pieces of paper. One was the number of the bar, another was Steve's number. The last, the note from Bucky asking to meet him and Steve today in 20 minutes.
Peter didn't want to go. Not really. Meeting them meant questions—questions Peter wasn't prepared to answer. But not going would only cause more questions. Besides, they knew he worked at SI. Logically if they really wanted to find out about him they could just ask FRIDAY. Something they might do if he didn't show up.
Which could lead to them finding out the documents were forged. Which would only lead to more questions. Peter couldn't risk it. Though the thought of having to keep lying to people hurt his soul, the thought of being found out hurt more. He was already alone. He didn't want to be alone and on the run.
Giving in, Peter stuffed the notes back in his pocket and made sure he had his money. Carefully making his way out of his home and pulling his hood over his head, he started the long walk to the cafe he and Steve had first met.
When he finally arrived he saw the two super soldiers sitting on a table in the back corner, both on either side of the table, with Steve facing away from him. Bucky noticed him come in and smiled, waving him over.
With a sigh, Peter readjusted his hood and slowly made his way over to the table. The long walk only added to his sore muscles making him wince slightly as he walked, though he tried to hide it. His legs ached but he pushed through and he sat down at the small table near the back.
"I didn't think you'd actually come," Steve admitted once Peter sat down.
"Neither did I," Peter responded before the three plunged into silence.
Realising this, Bucky announced, "Why don't we get some food? I'm starved and you look like you could use some protein, punk," he added.
"Perfect," Steve smiled looking over at Peter as of to ask if that was ok with him too
"Sure."
The group glanced at the menu on the wall above the cashier, trying to decide what food to get. In the end, Peter decided on a fancy toasted sandwich that came with a side of fries. It was simple, but not too expensive. Peter didn't want to waste all of his money on one meal. Just because he had money now didn't mean he was going to start spending at every corner. Though as a treat he got himself a coffee. Sue him, he was exhausted.
As Peter stood up to go order his food, Steve stopped him.
"I'll pay, tell me what you want."
Peter rushed to reply with, "No, sir. That's all good. I can pay for my own food."
Bucky responded, "Kid, we invited you. We'll pay."
"But you paid last time, Captain," Peter tried to reason.
"Call me Steve, and it doesn't matter. Just let us pay," Steve said, taking his wallet out of his pocket.
Giving in, Peter replied, "Fine, thank you sir."
After telling him what he wanted, Steve went off to pay, leaving Bucky and Peter alone at the table. After a moment of silence, Bucky asked:
"So how was the wedding?"
"What?" Peter asked, confusion filling his words.
"The wedding, you said your parents were away for a wedding," Bucky repeated, leaning on the table with his arm.
"Oh, yeah," Peter mentally slapped himself for forgetting about that lie. "They didn't say much about it when they came back, so I almost forgot. I think they had fun though, they don't get out much anymore."
Because they're dead, Peter macabrely thought to himself, though Bucky seemed to accept the lie. One point to Peter.
It was at this moment that Steve returned to the table, cutting off the conversation before Bucky could ask anymore questions on the matter. Which Peter was beyond thankful for. As the super soldier sat back down he announced that the drinks should be out soon with the food taking a bit longer.
"So, Bucky told me you got an internship at Stark Industries. That's cool. How's it been going?" Steve asked in an attempt to ease the tension.
"Yeah, it's been cool," Peter began. "It's nice to meet some new people who also like science, I guess."
"That's good."
The table dissolved back into an awkward silence. No one really knowing what to say. Peter's leg bounced nervously. He wished someone would just say something. So he did.
"Not that this isn't super fun sir, but, was there some point to this? Cause you called me here, why?" Peter tried to ask in the nicest way possible.
With a deep sigh, Bucky began, "We just wanted to make sure you're ok. You were hurt and you just disappeared."
"We were just worried about your safety," Steve added.
He looked as though he was going to continue when the drinks arrived at the table. Thanking the waiter as they put them down, Peter faked a smile and waited for them to leave.
"Well, as you can see I'm fine." Lies. "You don't have to worry about me. I take all that burden off of your shoulders."
With sad eyes, Bucky responded, "You're not a burden, Peter. We just want to make sure someone's looking out for you."
"I can take care of myself," Peter stated. He wasn't incompetent, he could handle himself. He didn't want people out there thinking he was unable to protect himself. That he was just some weak kid.
"We don't doubt that," Steve added softly "But everyone needs someone. You got friends looking out for you?"
"I did," Peter said before he could stop himself from leaking the information.
"Did?" Steve asked, curiosity taking over as he looked from Peter to Bucky then back to him.
"Yeah," Peter tried to come up with a reasonable lie. "I had these 2 good friends but I—my family—moved away and we kinda just lost contact. I haven't talked to them in quite a while."
It wasn't a lie, maybe that was why it came out so naturally. With a warm smile Bucky asked "What were their names?"
"Ned and MJ," Peter replied, thinking back to his friends "They were the best. Now it's just me. And my parents of course." He added as an afterthought.
"So you're new to the area?" Steve asked.
"Yeah," Peter said.
"You like it here?" Bucky questioned, taking a sip from his coffee.
"It's taking some getting used to. I'll get used to it eventually," Peter said truthfully.
As Peter finished his sentence, the universe decided it was the perfect moment for the food to arrive. Peter would argue that every moment was a good moment for food to arrive, but now was exquisite timing.
It gave Peter the opportunity to change the subject. As the trio happily ate their food, they talked about everything and nothing. Peter found himself truly happy. He didn't worry about Spider-Man, the bar, or if he was going to be hungry and cold tonight. He was just happy. And safe. A rare experience in his life at the moment.
When the sad moment came for the super soldiers to leave, Steve told Peter:
"I know I say this every time, but call me if you need help, ok?"
"Yeah, sure," Peter replied, waving off the two men as they left in opposite directions. If Peter left with a fuller stomach and a warmth in his heart, then he left with more than he thought he would.
————-
"Did you see him limp a little when he came in?" Bucky asked Steve as they walked away.
"Yeah, I should have said something. But he looked so happy, I didn't want to ruin it," Steve supplied, rubbing his face.
"We don't have enough evidence to prove that something is going on, we just have to keep an eye out for more signs. He will tell us if he's comfortable."
"Maybe we can get FRIDAY to keep an eye on him and see if he is hurt when he is at the internship," Steve said.
"Yeah, maybe. I hope he's ok," Bucky said with complete sincerity.
"Yeah, me too."