Chapter 2: Hide Away
A reminder that this entire series is crossposted on AO3. With the excessive spamming here (and the extra time of posting to 2 sites) I may someday move entirely to AO3.
Today, training included going back to the basics with animatronic dummies similar to LMDs but with more sensors to detect the form of the fighter. Today wasn't about strength; it was about flow and style, control and focus. Today was supposed to be an easy way to get back into their usual training habits.
And yet the rest of the team watched out of the corners of their eyes as Peter went at his dummy with full strength.
It wasn't bad, exactly. Peter had excellent natural grace, and he was still achieving high scores according to his machine. But not as high as was his usual. Not as high as it usually took to compete with Ava and Danny's records. And there was only one reason why he would sacrifice his high score for raw strength.
Peter was angry, and Danny didn't need to read his Chi to see it.
Danny hadn't read Peter's Chi much since that first day in the Med Bay. He was trying to respect Peter's privacy. But when it was so obvious that something was bothering their friend, it was hard to let it go, especially knowing that Peter's first trauma counseling session had been yesterday. The team had wanted to see him afterwards, but May asked them to give Peter some space, and the request hadn't been entirely unreasonable. Sure, they were worried May might make Peter uncomfortable, but he did deserve time on his own to sort things out.
Obviously, one day wasn't enough to sort things out. Not that Danny expected it to be. But if he could help Peter find peace sooner rather than later, he would be happy.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the training session. The dummies powered down and displayed a more detailed analysis of their scores. Danny examined his. He'd been a bit distracted, so he wasn't surprised to see his own score was also down a bit. Judging from the growl, Ava was seeing similar results. If Luke and Sam did too, they didn't show it.
Peter didn't look at his results for long before exiting the training room.
Fury waited for them outside the room. Danny braced himself for the impending criticism.
"Statistically, your performance is unchanged from previous trials," Fury began, causing Danny's eyebrows to rise. "Alexander, your punches are still rather sloppy as you depend too much on your blasts in battle. Cage and Rand lost rhythm in their stances after a time. Ayala and Parker should consider some other details the analysis described in their reports."
Everyone nodded, not particularly upset about the results, though Danny really hadn't expected Fury to accept them too. Sure, Peter deserved some slack, but the others didn't really have an excuse.
Well, other than worrying about their teammate.
Maybe Danny was forgetting that Fury was only cold and calculating on the outside. He also cared deep down.
"You've barely lost much training time, so there's no reason to stick with the basics for too long. I'll leave it up to Parker to decide what he's most comfortable with doing next. Team dismissed."
Fury left them alone without further comments, which wasn't entirely unusual. Danny supposed that he had expected a few more differences somehow. He knew that Peter didn't want to be treated differently after his most recent kidnapping, but Danny felt like it was about time that Spider-Man earned a break. He had witnessed Peter work through tough times too many times.
As Peter went over to the screens to read the analysis of the team's performance, it was obvious he was trying to work through this one too.
"We're all pretty much the same as before," Peter agreed as he scanned the numbers and graphs, his voice very level. It would sound normal if not for the absence of joviality he usually had. "I think we were all hitting hard though. I guess we're all a little frustrated about stuff." Which was an understatement, which Peter was known for. But at least he was admitting to his feelings instead of trying to completely hide them. "Maybe we should do a day of strength training and sparring with the extra durable LMDs to let off some steam."
Ava cracked her knuckles. "I'm up for that."
"High heat level of durable?" Sam asked hopefully.
"Come on, Nova, you always use your blasts. You should take the time to focus on hand-to-hand combat with the rest of us," Peter suggested.
"Aw, fine." Sam slowly floated upside down with his arms crossed.
"I can practice with you beforehand if you like," Danny offered half teasingly. Whenever they practiced combat, Sam usually earned more hits than he landed.
"Only if we can play Streetfighter after."
Danny lost his grin. Sam beat him terribly in that game. Not to mention how the cliché references to martial arts, particularly kung fu, managed to annoy Danny no matter how often he reminded himself it was all for entertainment and fun. "Perhaps another time."
Sam grinned victoriously, beginning to tilt more upright as he pumped his arms up over his head. Every battle avoided was a battle won in Sam's book, even if he used the phrase a little differently than was originally intended.
Luke stepped closer to the screen next to Peter. "I figured my rhythm was off, but what about my form? I've been practicing lately."
Peter tapped a few buttons. "Yeah, you've definitely improved your form. You're also very consistent, which is just as important."
"Awesome."
They chatted a bit more about the results before heading to the locker rooms. After a good workout, Danny liked to spend a little longer in the shower than the others. He found the water relaxing, and it was a lot more pleasant than bathing had been back in Shun'Lun where temperatures were regularly frigid. As part of training to earn the Dragon's blessing, Danny had to spend time in ice baths or use the saunas that were several miles from the main building, trekking through the snow with nothing more than his underwear and his wits.
By comparison, the simple Shield shower stalls were heavenly.
When he finally exited with a towel wrapped around his waist, he was surprised to find Peter waiting for him. The past few times they'd seen each other, Peter had still been wary of close contact. And Danny had seen the way Peter had eyed his glowing hands when they were warming up before practice today.
"Hey, um . . ." Peter rubbed his neck for a second before lowering his hand and even holding it in place with the other. "Can I ask for a favor?"
Danny nodded. "Of course. I am quite certain that I owe you several favors at this point."
Peter waved that off. "We save each other. It evens out. Though I guess this also sort of counts as me finally accepting something you offered a while ago."
Immediately, Danny understood what this was about, but he made an attempt at humor with a false guess, "You mean you finally wish to join me on a month-long sugar cleanse?"
"Don't go dragging me along in your impossible monk challenges!" Peter scrunched his face in disgust but smiled. "No, I actually wanted to ask for some help with meditating."
"I see. Are you sure you're ready to try again?" They had tried meditating together not too long ago, after some of Peter's latest mutations came in. The experience had been rather unsettling for Peter as he wasn't yet ready to accept his fangs and spinnerets as his natural state. They had stopped the practice within a few minutes.
"I think I am ready. I've been thinking a bit about things and . . . I'm realizing that I'm already pretty used to feeling things differently. But I sort of need help with relaxing."
"Oh?" Danny took a few steps closer so they could be within easier talking distance while not invading any personal space. Peter stood his ground, though his hand briefly returned to rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah," Peter continued. "I'm kind of having trouble falling asleep."
"Ah, I see. We can figure out a method to calm your mind then. I do not know how comfortable you would be with something like a body scan, but there are other ways such as grounding or visualization."
"Grounding? Like becoming one with the ground? Feeling it beneath you or whatever?" Peter asked, curiosity obviously piqued.
"It does not always have to be so literal, but I suppose it can be in some practices. Does it sound like something you would like to try?"
"Um . . ." Peter took a little while to decide, apparently torn about something. The conflicted Chi was emanating off of him too strongly for Danny to ignore. "Well, if it's already a thing, then I guess that's someplace to start. Although visualization sounds kind of cool too."
"The two can be used in tandem if you like, though I would suggest practicing them separately first."
"Okay, those seem like a good place to start. Thanks."
"You are welcome. Would you like to begin tonight?"
"You're not busy?"
Danny smirked. "You know I am not one for the night life."
"That doesn't mean you don't have a million other better ways to spend a Wednesday night."
"I believe helping a friend is at the top of the list of 'best ways to spend a Wednesday night'," Danny countered.
Peter smiled back. "Thank you."
Danny nodded and began walking towards the lockers until a thought occurred to him. He turned back around. "Peter, are you sure you want to do this tonight?"
"Um, yes?"
"Would you prefer if we did it over a video call or something?"
"Hm . . . whatever way is best for you, I guess."
Danny walked back towards him, a little closer than before, watching Peter's reaction. Peter took a few casual steps back to lean against the wall.
"Peter, if my proximity to you is still upsetting, you can tell me."
"I'm not upset!" Peter replied too quickly.
"You can be honest with me. You know I will understand. Besides, it is important for the favor you are asking. If my presence in your room is counterproductive to our goals with the meditation, then we should look for alternatives or wait."
Peter rolled his eyes, shoulders slumping. "But I want to stop things like that! I want to move past it! You're my friend! My teammate!"
"We are friends," Danny agreed. "Which is why we have a long time to move past this."
Peter crossed his arms. "I guess so. And I guess it would be easier to learn how to relax without . . ." He squeezed his arms tighter, a small shiver running down his spine.
Danny frowned sympathetically. "Is this why you've been angry today? Frustration and lack of sleep?"
"Well, yes and no . . ." Now Peter looked away shamefully.
"It is okay if the feelings are complicated. We cannot always categorize our emotions. But if you are not sleeping well, then I would suggest making sleep the focus for now. Once you are well rested, everything will be easier." Danny had seen Peter sleep deprived before, so he knew how it could cause the boy to spiral into some rash decisions if left unchecked. Although he had to admit Peter didn't look quite as exhausted as usual. No dark bags under his eyes or hands shaking from too much caffeine.
. . . Wait a second . . .
"Yeah, that makes sense. So I guess we do a video call tonight? Anytime before you go to bed is fine. I—I'm a night owl, you know." Peter smiled awkwardly as he made a small joke of his nocturnal tendencies. He took a few small steps towards Danny, moving his hand as if he might do some parting gesture like a handshake or fist bump, but settled on avoiding contact with a thumbs up before hurrying towards the door. "Thanks Danny! I owe you one!"
"Wait, we can do it later in the night if you like! I do not mind staying up!" Danny called after him.
"No, no, it's fine! Anthing works for me!" And Peter exited the locker rooms.
Danny was left standing alone and dripping wet. He considered things for a second before retrieving his phone and sending a few texts to the rest of the team sans Peter.
Peter was hiding things again. Which would have been okay. Everyone deserved privacy. But after everything else Peter had been confessing to them lately, it wouldn't hurt to check in.
Reluctantly, Peter opened up his notes app as he walked to the cafeteria. He quickly typed the date, time, location, circumstances, and severity of his spider sense.
Danny still made his spider sense hum because his stupid brain apparently couldn't differentiate between two very different people. Danny was literally nothing like Tandy! Just because they both had blondish hair, and always acted so patient, and spoke supportively, and had glowing hands, and both wanted to help Peter feel better about everything . . .
Peter put his phone back into his pocket before he cracked the screen from holding it too tight. Wasn't there some difference between then and now?!
Yes. Now he was purposefully asking for help to calm down. It wasn't being forced on him anymore.
Why didn't that make him feel any better? He was choosing now. He was in control again!
Except he wasn't. He was making webs and feeling almost constantly uneasy now that even his friends and family set off his spider sense.
And that was another problem. He felt better when he felt afraid. Not that he wanted to be afraid, but just the knowledge that he could feel all those negative emotions again made him feel better somehow. Since he had experienced a couple of days without those emotions, he realized how important they were, how integral to his whole self they could be.
But tonight, Danny would help him try to reclaim some calm.
What did that mean, though? What was Peter supposed to do? Learn to be in control of his emotions so he could calm down at will? Learn how to ease his anxiety so he could avoid webs and biting others? But what about his spider sense? He was never going to be able to control that, not without outside interference which he never wanted ever again. And if his spider sense kept up like this, did it mean he could never be in full control again? Always one bad scare away from getting stuck on a ceiling or biting someone?
And what about his venom? He was supposed to be in control of that no matter what. Yeah. That's why he had basically chosen to attempt to kill Kraven weeks ago. That's why he'd actually managed to kill the chicken a few days ago.
The memory was still so conflicting. He had no idea how he could get Dr. Wilson to understand, though he knew he needed help to see it clearly. To know whether his continued pride in the hunt was an artifact of Tandy's calm, or if it meant he just liked killing things.
He didn't. He didn't want to. He hadn't meant to. Just because the warmth felt good in his mouth didn't mean anything. Just because Kraven's howl of pain had been satisfying didn't mean anything. Just because he still remembered the look of utter fear on his uncle's killer's face when the man realized he couldn't fight back against this skinny twerp shrouded in the dark of night—
God, Peter hadn't thought of that in so long. He'd pushed it to the back of his mind because he hated himself for it, for every punch, for every second that he let more strength leak into his hits as he lost himself to rage.
Rage. Fury. Anger. There was something—a connection—if his mind could slow down for a moment maybe he could understand—uncover—
Suddenly, a hand was waved mere inches from his face. Peter jerked back, bearing his fangs and hissing in surprise.
"Earth to Web Head," Sam said. "We've been trying to talk to you."
Peter clenched his mouth tight to get his fangs to shrink again. "I'm sorry! I was lost in thought! I didn't hear you!" He hadn't. His spider sense still didn't alert him with members of the team he still trusted. He was glad for that, although a heads up would be nice so he wouldn't hiss at them when they did surprise him. They didn't flinch. Not anymore. But they didn't deserve that sort of reaction.
"It's okay," Ava assured him. "We were just wondering if you wanted to join us for lunch. And if so, do you want to sit in the cafeteria or somewhere quieter?"
Two tracks of reasoning fought to persuade Peter. On one hand, he wanted to spend time with the team. Eating lunch with them was one of his normal things. It could help distract him from the intrusive thoughts he'd just been having.
On the other hand, lunches with the team after such ordeals often led to him spilling his guts out and making a further mess of his life.
But wasn't that normal for him too at this point?
"Um, sure, if any place quieter is available, that might be easier to talk." Peter glanced behind towards the direction of the locker rooms. "Is Danny coming too?"
"No," Luke answered. "He said he's gotta do a ritual cleansing or something. He's fasting until tomorrow."
"Oh, he didn't mention that to me, but okay." Peter didn't want to be relieved by the news, but he was.
They waited in line for the food, the only time they would spend in the large cafeteria today. The constant hum of hundreds of voices overlapping was very familiar to Peter, and it was a nice reminder that Shield was ten thousand times bigger than the Thunderbolts because Shield had all the good guys, whether super-powered or not.
Good guys, all of them, even the ones who had killed. There were literal assassins in the room. Peter knew that, though he could only identify a couple he had spoken to as Spider-Man. Some of these people had surely been killing Hydra agents and terrorists for longer than Peter was alive. What was his one little chicken in comparison to that?
It was an odd way to look at it, but Peter began to feel a bit more at ease as he waited in line, idly listening to the chatter around him. Usually he tried not to think about the more morally gray things Shield did, mostly because Fury made sure the team was sheltered from all that. But now it was a reminder that he wasn't the only good guy who had to make a tough decision. And his decision really didn't seem that tough in comparison to what would probably be some very dark and grisly stories.
Peter decided he would never ask about those stories.
The team reached the buffet, and Peter piled his plates high. Only two plates, because it was hard to carry more than that. Despite him eating some crickets and juice every day for the past few days, he was still extra hungry due to the daily web.
Shame quickly coiled in his gut again the moment he remembered his webs. Shame that made him want to leave the juice he just grabbed.
The moment he placed the bottle down, Luke snatched it up again. "Pete, if you want it, take it."
"But what if I want soda?" Peter asked, even as he recalled how the carbonation felt so weird in his mouth and bothered his nose so much. He was so sensitive to vibration that a mouth full of tiny bubbles wasn't great.
"Then take a soda. But if you want a juice, take a juice." Luke clapped him on the shoulder. "It's your choice."
Well, Luke had a point. Peter could take either one with no consequences. It wasn't like he had to choose soda for his aunt's sake or—
Peter blocked the thought and hurried to follow the team out of the cafeteria and into a small conference room.
This was normal for him too. He focused on that over the juice in his hand.
The four of them settled at one end of the table, making room for the multiple plates each person had. Somehow, the spread looked odd without Danny's giant colorful salad, but Peter's spider sense was finally quiet. He didn't want to be relieved about a friend's absence. But he was.
"So . . ." Sam started casually, arranging his array of sauces and vanilla ice cream in preparation to dip his chicken tenders. "How'd therapy go yesterday?" There was a commotion under the table, multiple thumps, and then an 'ouch' from Sam. "Jeez! Did you have to both kick me?!"
Ava and Luke looked away innocently.
A soft chuckle escaped Peter as he watched the familiar antics. "It went alright, I think. It's probably way too early to tell if he can help me with—you know—stuff."
"Do you feel comfortable talking to him?" Ava asked.
Peter made a face. "Not all the time, especially when he keeps asking questions. But I suppose I've had plenty of practice with interrogations from you guys."
Ava blushed slightly. "We were just trying to help."
"And you did," he assured her. "I'm sorry if I seem unappreciative most of the time. It's just . . . hard."
"You don't seem unappreciative," Luke said. "You're allowed to be annoyed that we keep bugging you for your own sake."
Peter smiled. He was glad he had friends. Real friends. Real friends he had known for what felt like ages now.
"Have you spoken to MJ again yet?" Sam asked as he dipped one tender into both the ice cream and ketchup.
"We've text a bit, but her line isn't set up for the same encryptions as ours yet, so we can't text about the important things. But she seems happy and she wants to come by again on Sunday." He began to feel butterflies in his stomach once the words were out of his mouth.
Hm. Butterflies in his stomach. He had eaten moths now, and he could attest that they did not keep flapping in your stomach. Somehow, the memory only made the feeling worse.
"That's great!" Luke motioned for a fist bump and Peter obliged. "Now I gotta ask. Is she still just a friend? Or does this count as a date? You never did give us many details of what she said the first night other than that she likes you back."
Peter just knew his face was turning so red. "We're not calling it a date!" Even if MJ had replied with 'it's a date! 3'. That was just a play on words, obviously. "We just want some more time to talk! Do you know how many lies I've told her? How many things Spider-Man has been accused of that I can finally level with her about?"
Luke stopped grinning. "I was just trying to keep things lighthearted."
Peter immediately felt bad. He felt like he kept lashing out at everyone, even when he tried really hard not to. He blamed the mood swings. "I know, I appreciate that, but I just don't want to make any assumptions about what MJ wants. I . . . I would love if she gave me a chance, but she doesn't have to."
Ava nodded. "That's really good of you, Pete, but I really hope you're not just saying that because you think she'll see you as a freak."
Peter's blush only got worse as he remembered using almost those exact words the last time he spoke to MJ in person. He usually tried not to call himself a freak, but emotions had been running high at the time. "Of course not! It's also because she's a person who can decide what she wants for herself!"
"'Also'?" Ava repeated, raising an eyebrow at him. "As in it's also the fact that you're afraid?"
He opened his mouth to argue, but he couldn't think of anything. And then he felt his fangs start to extend from frustration, so he just bit into one of his burgers, glaring at the table.
He ignored the brief second of satisfaction when his fangs penetrated the beef, although it probably only added to his flushed face.
"Maybe you should take a breath, man," Luke suggested, sounding a little concerned now. "You're starting to turn blue."
Peter did feel like he needed some fresh air, but he didn't feel lightheaded. Nevertheless, he took some deep breaths. They did help a bit.
"We just don't want you to feel that way about yourself," Ava continued more gently. "We know you're different and you're trying to figure all that out, but remember that none of it is inherently good or bad."
"Yeah," Sam piped up, dipping a tender in ketchup and sweet'n'sour sauce this time. "You're just part spider. That's all. That's who you are. Some spider dude trying to live a happy life."
A spider dude. A Speter. He kept having dreams where he acted more like a spider, catching flies with Phoebe and Charlotte or even having six arms again. In the haze of sleep, it all felt so normal.
Waking up in a web now made it hard to argue that it wasn't normal.
Unlike with Dr. Wilson, Peter suddenly had an urge to talk to his friends about these things. The explanation of his dependency on webs had felt awkward and badly worded with Dr. Wilson. But with the team he knew they would understand. They had more than earned his trust.
"Um, can I tell you something?" Peter began, picking at his food before the feeling in his stomach got worse.
"Well duh," Sam replied.
"I've been—uh . . . having some trouble toning down the spidery stuff," he admitted. "I've been eating so many bugs and I even climbed the kitchen to reach something and—"
"What's wrong with climbing the kitchen?" Sam interrupted. Ava and Luke also looked confused about it.
Peter felt his stomach cramp and his annoyance flared. "Maybe you're too messy to notice, but cooking surfaces are supposed to be kept sanitary," he said sardonically. Then he felt bad and softened his tone. "You're not supposed to put your feet on them. But for some reason I didn't even think of grabbing the step stool."
"Well, you can and do climb almost everywhere else," Luke said. "I'm not surprised you would stick to the easier method in your own home." Then he grinned. "Get it? 'Stick to the easier method'?"
Peter did appreciate the joke, but he couldn't find a smile now. "Yeah, but in the past I would mostly climb only in the suit. Then I started doing it at home once May found out, and it's just becoming second nature. Or really my first response." Climbing all over his room with Phoebe wasn't exactly helping either.
"You're supposed to feel safe enough to be yourself at home," Ava reminded him. "You can hide all this when you're out in public, but you shouldn't at home. Maybe the kitchen wasn't the best place to do it, but everyone makes a mistake sometimes, a little mess. It's not a big deal."
They were acting like it was so normal to climb your home cabinets. But it wasn't. It wasn't and May didn't like it.
May didn't like himit.
"Are you all sure this sounds okay?" Peter asked, feeling déjà vu from however many times he'd asked them the same question.
And just like all the other times, they said it was okay.
The burger tasted like nothing as he took another bite, but he needed a moment to steel himself. This next part he didn't want to talk about it, but he needed answers. He swallowed thickly. "May kind of yelled at me for doing it."
The others frowned deeply. Their fists clenched. They tried to hide it, but he could see the anger in their eyes.
Peter felt ashamed, because sometimes he felt that sort of anger at his aunt too. But he shouldn't. Sure, sometimes she said things about him that offended him, but it was his fault for not being honest with her (even if he suspected she would just keep saying those things anyway even if she knew).
Ava seemed to carefully choose her next question. "What exactly happened?"
Oh gosh, he really didn't want to talk about this. He regretted starting the conversation. "I climbed up, and she saw me and she told me to get down and she didn't actually yell but she—she cleaned it up so fast—like the web—like—" Like he was a dirty house pest. Like he was a spider. Because he was one.
Like earlier, he felt his thoughts moving fast, too fast, far too fast to keep up and keep them in order. He was still so upset about that first web and he was upset about how upset he was. He covered his face because seriously he wanted to be done with crying forever! He wanted to be done with everything forever!
Three warm bodies converged over him, and he realized he was at the center of a group hug. And he needed the hug and he kind of missed the extra weight of Danny but he also kind of didn't. A soft rumble emanated from his chest, because apparently even when he didn't feel happy his friends could still make him feel better enough to purr.
"Guys, stop," Peter said in a halfhearted whine, muffled under the three of them. "This is ridiculous! I'm getting worked up over nothing!" Yes, he sniffled as he said it, but he knew it had to be true. "She just told me to get my feet off of the counter, which is a very reasonable request! I'm just upset that I let myself do that in the first place! And that I keep making messes . . ."
"Dude, we made messes when we stayed at your house. Your aunt really can't complain now that it's back to just you."
"Yeah, you're tidier than me," Sam agreed.
"That isn't saying much coming from Sam," Ava amended. "But you're pretty tidy for a boy."
He had to tell them now. He'd already kept it a secret the past few nights in the hopes he could stop on his own. He had to tell them now. "Well, the problem is that I sort of have been making a mess. Every night. I clean it up every morning, but that just makes me feel worse because recycling." He wrinkled his nose. His silk didn't taste bad, but it also didn't taste good, and it had an odd texture. Eating it once in a while was fine, but as an everyday occurrence it was already getting annoying. And freaky. Every single time, no matter how hard he tried to stop the intrusive thoughts, he kept thinking about how this stuff came out of his body and he was just eating it. Charlotte sometimes had to encourage him to continue if he paused.
"Wait, recycling? As in your silk?" Luke clarified.
"Yes."
The others pulled away. That made Peter's heartrate spike before he realized they just wanted to return to their seats. They didn't speak though. Just waited.
"I've—uh—been making a web every night to sleep," Peter explained, clenching his fists in his lap, fighting the urge to rub the back of his neck. The staring only caught him off guard. His spider sense had only briefly shivered. The fleeting desire to run away from his friends was just nerves. And he was probably just a little hyper focused on the nervous tic since speaking about it with Dr. Wilson. "I started doing it for nightmares, you know? Webs are safe." Oh god he said that with such certainty nowadays, as if everyone felt the same weird way. "But then the past couple of nights I tried to stop, except I'm having such a hard time getting to sleep without a web now. Either a nightmare wakes me up or I can't do anything but spider nap because there's so many noises at night and the house creaks and Taskmaster wouldn't make any sound at all but if I can't feel any of that then I don't feel . . . safe." His voice had been rising and rising in volume as he got worked up, but the last word came out softer as he realized what he said. "I sound like a psycho."
"No you don't," Ava denied bluntly.
"I'm saying I want to feel sounds so I can sleep. Maybe I'll go taste some colors next too." He pushed his plates aside and plopped his crossed arms on the table, sulking.
"Anyone can feel sounds," Luke said, probably rolling his eyes. "Haven't you ever been close to a loudspeaker or something? Sound is literally vibrations, and you, Mr. Science Guy, should know that."
"And don't you dare say regular people don't want to feel sound vibrations," Ava warned as he opened his mouth. "People go to loud concerts and movies for a reason. And Danny plays a big singing bowl before bed. It makes such a deep sound you feel it more than you hear it. And that's how he goes to sleep."
Peter considered all that. "Fine, I guess that part's okay, but the web is still a problem. I don't want to do it anymore. I can't. I've been eating so much extra even though I recycle the whole thing. May thinks I'm still healing, but after a while she'll get suspicious."
"And you still want to keep it a secret from her." Sam made it a statement, not a question.
"You really were upset the first time you made one in your room and she took it down, weren't you?" Luke asked.
He was. He still was. Peter nodded.
"Isn't there some way she can understand?" Ava wondered. "She's okay with you eating bugs and stuff. What's wrong with a web?"
"I don't know," Peter said, and he realized he meant it. He had no idea how to convince her. He was even having a hard time understanding what was so wrong with a web other than it being inhuman. "But there's also the problem that I can't stop making webs or else I can't sleep. If Aunt May was scared before that my instincts could make me do things I don't want to do, if I was scared before . . . This is proof. I keep getting proof that I'm not in full control of myself." He managed to keep his voice level, but inside his thoughts were speeding up again.
"But what about your spider moods?" Sam asked. "I thought you said it just put you in the mood to do spidery things. And you said you've tried without the web recently."
"Well, yeah, I can still choose not to make the web. But like I said, then I can't sleep."
"So in other words," Sam continued. "You're dealing with insomnia, but you immediately discovered that your webs are a solution."
Peter opened his mouth to argue that no, he didn't have insomnia, until he realized that maybe he did. He'd had it before, the stress and trauma related kind. He'd had it many times before. He knew what it felt like. It felt just like this. Except typically he just had to grin and bear the sleepless nights plagued by nightmares. Typically he was dead on his feet every day during the worst parts of it. The lack of exhaustion now had just made it less obvious.
Sam grinned wickedly. "Knew it."
"But—" Peter began even though he didn't know what to say. This felt like that conversation with Adrien about animal moods. It fit so well into Peter's experience of reality, but explained it so differently, in a way where his spider side wasn't the antagonist of the story. "But—it's still—I'm still not happy about it!"
"And you don't like getting vaccines either, but you still get them to keep you healthy," Luke said. "I get that May is a problem here, but you can't let that stop you from getting a good night's rest."
Peter's eyes widened at the statement. 'May is the problem here'. Were they just admitting it now? Saying it out loud like it was nothing?
"We don't know for sure that May would be upset though," Ava reminded them, offering Peter some relief. "Pete hasn't told her what his webs mean to him, have you, Pete?"
He shook his head. It was one of the many secrets he still kept from his aunt. With so many secrets, could he ever be sure that it wasn't him that was the problem? At this point, the Thunderbolts knew more about his powers and instincts than his aunt did.
The pain in his stomach was reminiscent of a knife wound.
"Maybe you should tell her," Ava suggested gently.
Despite his regret for lying to his aunt, Peter shook his head harshly. "No! Do you have any idea how horrified May is of when I bit Amadeus? If she knew how my feelings for my webs were such a big factor—If she ever came in while I'm asleep on the web—" He didn't want to think about what would happen if any of those hypotheticals came true. There were too many ways things could go horribly wrong.
Ava frowned again. "Has she been talking about what happened with Amadeus?"
"No," Peter admitted. He was thankful for that. He couldn't think about that guy without his fangs extending. He hated that, but he sort of hated Amadeus more. "But before all of this happened, after my venom mistake after Rhino . . . I promised her my venom was only for protection, as a last-ditch self-defense thing. She barely believed me then, how would she believe me now?"
"She didn't believe you?"
"No—" His voice caught on the word. His throat was feeling tight again even though he wasn't actively crying.
"But it still was self-defense," Luke said. "You were—"
"Angry," Peter finished for him, the emotion making his heartbeat pound in his ears. Why did people keep giving him the benefit of the doubt when he was trying to explain the truth? It was infuriating. "It wasn't even just the web when it comes to Amadeus actually. You have no idea what he said to me, how he acted like he could befriend me just to use me as a test subject. Heck, he didn't even wait to be my friend before trying out his little laser gun on me! Sure, the laser itself didn't hurt, but everything after was pure agony! He's lucky I just hissed at him after!"
Once again, too late, Peter realized his mouth had motored on ahead of himself. He forced down the memories so he could notice this moment. The way his hands shook, fingers curled in front of him in a choking motion. How his fangs were bared again. His breathing was quick and shallow, but not hyperventilating this time. No, this was how his breathing got when his adrenaline was pumping, when he was thrown into a fight.
The team's eyes were wide. Stunned speechless.
Shame pooled in Peter's gut and he laid his head on the table, covering himself with his arms. He wanted to just disappear, to hide away so he wouldn't be a problem (a danger) anymore.
"You okay, Pete?" Luke asked softly.
"I think it's the mood swings." Peter didn't care that his voice was severely muffled now. "I keep getting angry out of nowhere and it . . . it scares me."
"I wouldn't say that's out of nowhere," Sam said. "Amadeus is a serious chytphaect acjatt." Peter didn't recognize the last two words but understood it was some sort of offensive alien insult. He appreciated that.
"Well, yeah, but I'm really not used to feeling this way. Not this often."
"Maybe this is something you should mention to your therapist?" Luke suggested. "We don't know how long the mood swings will last, but there might be methods to help you handle it."
"I don't know if Dr. Wilson really understands. He didn't want to help me stop making webs."
"Frankly, we would rather not help you with that either," Ava said, sounding sort of frustrated. "I want you to be able to do whatever makes you feel safer. But if you want to stop, then fine, we'll help."
Peter didn't want to argue anymore. He felt tired, and he still did want to get away, to be alone for a bit. He just wanted this conversation over. "What makes me feel safe is knowing that I'm in control of my actions. Relying on webs to sleep isn't great, and neither is all this sudden anger. But thank you. Thanks for dealing with me."
"We're not 'dealing with you'. We're trying to be supportive," Luke corrected gently.
"I appreciate it," Peter replied, trying to sound as sincere as he felt despite the fact that he was getting too tired to feel anything. "I'm gonna go home. Maybe if I read or play video games or something I'll relax a bit." It wasn't running away if he announced it, right?
"Okay, and I don't hesitate to contact us about anything," Sam ordered with far more authority than he ever had. "You're not a burden. You're our friend and our leader. We've got your back."
Peter nodded even though he felt like he hadn't been a leader for them in a while now. How could he help them when he couldn't even help himself?