Archive of Our Own ^beta

Peter lay in his bed restlessly tossing and turning as sleep eluded him. Every time he closed his eyes the memory of Mr. Stark - Tony - haunted him. He replayed the battle with Thanos in his mind over and over again wondering if there was something he could’ve done differently, if there was a way they could’ve won the battle and saved Mr. Stark. Peter sighed and rolled onto his side, the time on his alarm clock glaring at him. He was so tired.

The days following the battle where Mr. Stark died have been some of the hardest of Peter’s life since his Uncle Ben was killed. His heart ached with grief and guilt haunted him with every beat of his heart. He groaned in frustration and rolled to his other side, pressing a pillow over his head to try and block out the city lights that spilled in through his window as his mind continued to whirl.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing he knew, he was waking up somewhere that wasn’t his bed. It was dark, cramped, and smelled like cleaning supplies. Panic started to set in as his thoughts spiraled: Where was he? How did he get here? Did someone abduct him?

His heart pounded against his chest like it was trying to break its way out and his muscles tensed as his eyes flitted around the dark space trying to make out where he was. The space felt suffocating like it was slowly closing in on him from all sides. He needed to get out of there.

“Peter? Peter, honey, are you home?” Peter heard May call. At the sound of her voice, he could calm himself down. If he could hear May then he must still be in their apartment. He shifted uncomfortably and reached out until his hand touched the wall. He felt around the edges of the wall and finding it had hinges he gave it a small push. The door creaked open and he fell onto their kitchen floor with a thud.

“Peter? Was that you? Are you okay?” May called as she hurried down the hall and stopped when she saw Peter lying on the kitchen floor. “What are you doing on the floor?” May asked confused and offered a hand to him.

Peter took it and May helped him to his feet.

“I was just looking for… baby powder and stood up to fast. Yep. That’s all.” Peter lied lamely. Whatever that was it was probably just a weird one-off thing. There was no need to worry her over it. May raised an eyebrow at him, unconvinced, “Under the kitchen sink?”

Peter shrugged, “I thought I should check.”

May frowned and scrutinized him before backing off, “Alright. Just be more careful next time, don’t want you hitting your head.” She ruffled Peter’s hair and kissed him on the forehead. “Now, what would you like for breakfast?”

The next day Peter jerked awake, his heart pounding in his chest, his senses on high alert, and muscles tensed when he heard the front door slamming closed followed by footsteps and something heavy being set on the kitchen counters. Once he realized it was May he let himself relax, though his nerves still buzzed with anxiety. He started to sit up only to hit his head and fall back. He let out a hiss of pain and rubbed his forehead. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of his bedroom he realized two things:

1. He was under his bed.
2. He really needed to clean under here.

Peter started pulling himself out from under his bed when his door swung open. “Peter I got the baby powder- what are you doing under your bed?” May stood in the doorway and stared at him bewildered.

“Oh, I was just… looking for…” Peter trailed off as he scrambled for an excuse, his eyes darting around his room. His gaze landed on an old thumb drive he thought he’d lost buried under a dust bunny. He quickly snatched it and held it up triumphantly, “-I was just looking for this! Thought I lost it.”

May’s brow furrowed but she nodded, “Well, if you’re done can you unload the groceries? I have to head down to FEAST. Mr. Li called and asked me to come in early today, one of his usual volunteers called in sick today."

“Yeah, of course.” Peter pulled himself the rest of the way out from under his bed, got to his feet, and dusted himself off.

“Thanks, and clean your room. It’s a mess in here.”

May gave Peter a quick hug before she left. Peter felt himself relax a little bit after the hug, her familiar embrace comforting after the strange start to his day though his body still thrummed with anxiety. He quickly cleaned up his room, his thoughts whirling. This was the second time in just as many days that he’d woken up somewhere that wasn’t his bed. If this kept up he’d have to tell May and she had enough to worry about as it is without him adding to it.

Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe tomorrow he’d wake up in his bed and he’d never have to tell May about this. He sighed and finished cleaning his room then went to put away the groceries.

~*~*~

The next day May woke just before the crack of dawn, yawned, and stretched. She froze mid-stretch when she saw a human-ish-shaped shadow huddled in the corner of her ceiling. She frowned and squinted at it, maybe it was just a weird shadow. The shadow moved. May screamed and threw her pillow at it. It hit the figure, they grunted and fell to the floor with a loud thud followed by a groan of pain.

May crawled to the edge of her bed and peered over the end. Peter lay sprawled on her floor, he looked confused as his eyes darted around the room.

“Peter? What were you doing on my ceiling?”

Peter’s gaze finally landed on her and understanding flooded his gaze. He quickly scrambled to his feet, fumbling for an explanation, "Well, I, uh, was dusting..."

"At-" May glanced at her alarm clock, "-6 in the morning?" May frowned. She was worried about him. She had noticed that Peter had been more skittish these past few days, jumping at the sound of a door slamming or a car backfiring. His eyes were always darting around as if looking for an exit in case something happened.

Just the other day he’d nearly killed the toaster when it went off. May had spent the morning cleaning webs off of it. He may not want to admit it but ever since the Snap he'd been different. She kept waiting, hoping that he'd talk to her about what happened, but whenever she tried to broach the topic he'd make up some excuse and swing away.

These past few days he'd been extra jumpy. She hated seeing him like this, it reminded her of when Ben first came home after his tour. It had taken Ben ages to readjust to civilian living and even then he'd still hated loud noises.

Peter let out a nervous laugh, "No better time to, sorry to scare you I'll just go now-"

"Oh no you don't young man, something is up with you and I want to know what it is. Peter, please talk to me."

"May, really, I'm fine! Just go back to sleep." Peter begged as he slowly backed away towards her bedroom door.

"Peter, wait-" her cell phone started ringing and she glanced at it for just a second to check the caller ID, Mr. Li. When she turned back to Peter he was gone. She sighed and answered her phone. She had to trust that Peter would come to her when he was ready.

~*~*~

After waking up on the floor of Aunt May's room Peter quickly got dressed and raced out of their apartment. He needed air, space, anything to stop the mounting weight in his chest. He felt like he was suffocating again except this time he wasn't in the kitchen cabinet. He felt hot, his palms were sweaty, and his head was spinning but he didn't stop. He just kept walking, and walking, and walking until he found himself at Delmar's Deli-Grocery. The familiar establishment was a welcome sight.

Peter entered the bodega, a bell chimed cheerily as he opened the door, gave the bodega cat Murph a quick pet, and started browsing the shelves. He kept his head down, hoping that the bodega owner, Mr. Delmar, wouldn't strike up a conversation with him. The door chimed again as someone entered.

Peter continued browsing while watching the person out of the corner of his eye trying to suss out if they were dangerous or not. The man wore a black hoodie, baggy pants, and sneakers. He also seemed to be in his mid-thirties. The man grabbed a bag of chips and handed them to Mr. Delmar before reaching into their pocket which Peter now noticed bulged suspiciously. His heart started pounding and suddenly his senses were on high alert as his brain screamed at him, gun, gun, GUN!

Peter's muscles tensed and without a second thought he threw himself at the man tackling him to the ground, his pulse pounded in his ears muffling the yelling around him. The man struggled beneath him he grabbed the man's wrist and yanked it upwards. In the man's hand was a large wallet. The man stared up at him, his eyes wide in fear. "Take it, man! Take whatever you want!" The frightened man pleaded.

Peter started as he realized what he had just done. He shot to his feet and started backing away from the man and Mr. Delmar who looked just as scared as the man. "I- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" Peter panted out before turning and bolting out of the bodega. The sidewalks were more crowded now than they had been when he had entered the bodega. He pushed his way through it, muttering apologies as he went. The weight in his chest was worse than it was before, he didn't understand what was going on with him. He needed help. He needed to talk to somebody. He needed answers.

Once Peter had put enough space between him and the bodega he slid into a side alley and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled through his list of contacts and his thumb hovered for a second over the screen before pressing the call button.

Peter rubbed his fist against his chest, trying to ease the building pressure, as he waited for them to answer. Finally, after what felt like forever, the line clicked and a familiar voice said, "Hello?"

Peter let out a small sigh of relief and let his head fall back against the brick wall of the building he was leaning against, "Happy! I- I need your help. Something's been going on with me and I'm kinda freaking out about it. I don't know what's wrong with me, my nerves are constantly on edge, I feel hot, and there's this weight in my chest-"

"Whoa, whoa, Peter slow down. Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

Peter nodded then realized Happy wouldn't be able to see that he said, "I'll send you my location. And Happy?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Please don't tell Aunt May. She has enough to worry about right now."

The line was silent for a minute then Happy said, "Alright, kid."

The line went dead and with trembling hands, Peter hastily texted Happy his location before sliding his phone back into his pocket. Now he just had to wait.

~*~*~

Happy pulled up to the location Peter had sent him, an alley somewhere in Queens. He parked his car, grabbed his phone, and went into the alley. "Peter? Are you there kid?" He called out. He was pretty sure this was the location Peter had sent him but all these alleyways looked the same to him. Maybe he was the next one over? Suddenly a figure dropped down from above and landed in front of him.

Happy jumped and clutched at his chest, his heart pounding, only to relax when he realized it was Peter. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at Peter. The kid looked awful, his eyes had dark bags under them, his skin was pale and etiolated, and his hair was messy and unbrushed. It broke his heart to see him like this.

Happy opened his arms and gestured towards his car, "C'mon kid. Get in the car."

Peter rushed forward and hugged Happy tightly before pushing himself away and getting into the passenger's seat of the car. Happy slid into the driver's seat and started driving. After a few blocks, Peter spoke up, "Where are you taking me? This isn't the way back to Aunt May's apartment."

"How observant of you. I'm not taking you to May's. From what I could make out over the phone you need a Doctor's help so I'm taking you to the best Doctor I know."

Peter slumped down in his seat, "Really, Happy, you don't have to do that. I'm fine! I shouldn't have called you. Just pull over and I'll find my own way home."

"Nice try, kid, but you're not getting out of this that easily. Besides, you already know him. You fought together at the battle with Thanos."

Peter's brow furrowed in thought as he tried to remember who Happy was talking about, "Do you mean Dr. Strange? Isn't he busy with, like, magic stuff?"

"I'm sure he'll have time to help you." Happy assured as they pulled up in front of the Sanctum Sanctorum. "Besides, we're already here. C'mon, now, out of the car." Happy shooed Peter out of the car. Peter hugged himself tightly as he made his way up the steps to the front door. Happy locked the car and followed behind Peter. Peter hesitated at the front door, Happy stepped forward and knocked on the door.

After waiting for awhile with no answer Happy knocked again. This time they heard cursing and grumbling coming from somewhere inside the building and the door flew open causing Peter to jump back in surprise. "Come in, come in." Dr. Strange called out from somewhere in the building. Peter's feet remained firmly planted in place, Happy gave him a gentle shove and Peter stumbled into the Sanctum.

Happy cleared his throat and called out, "Hello? Dr. Strange? This is Happy Hogan, I used to work for Mr. Stark." Happy got a lump in his throat when he mentioned Tony. As much of a pain in his butt as he could be he missed Tony. Happy's words were met with silence then Dr. Strange appeared at the top of the stairs in his usual apparel. "Mr. Hogan, what brings you to my humble abode?" Dr. Strange asked as he levitated down the stairs before landing at the bottom of them.  

"I'm here because I was hoping you could help Peter here." Happy nudged Peter forward, Peter wrung his hands together nervously.

Dr. Strange's gaze shifted from Happy to Peter, "Oh? How so?"

Peter cleared his throat and met Dr. Strange's questioning gaze, "Something's wrong with me and I don't know what. Ever since the battle... I've felt different. I can't sleep and when I do sleep I have nightmares, I wake up in strange places, and I feel like I'm always in danger. I don't know what's wrong with me, can you help?"

Dr. Strange raised an eyebrow at him and remarked sarcastically, "Help how? I was a neurosurgeon, not a pediatrician."

"Please, Dr. Strange. There's no one else who can help me." Peter pleaded, his voice cracking.

Dr. Strange shut his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose before exhaling sharply. "Fine, fine, I'll help you. But only on an unofficial basis. In no way are you to take this as an official diagnosis."

Peter nodded eagerly in agreement, "Of course! Thank you so much, Dr. Strange!"

"So you think you'll be able to help him? Even if this is some sort of spider issue?" Happy asked gesturing at Peter.

Dr. Strange rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Spider issue or not, you have a human body, which means we can run tests. At the very least, we can determine if you're suffering from a non-spider condition."

Happy placed a comforting hand on Peter's shoulder, "See? I'll go wait outside." Happy turned and left the room, before closing the door behind him he reassured Peter, "I'm sure it'll all be fine."

Dr. Strange gestured for Peter to follow him as he turned and levitated back up the stairs. Peter followed close behind Dr. Strange. Dr. Strange led Peter into a more private room. The room looked like a library, the walls were covered with dark wooden bookshelves of dusty tomes and strange artifacts punctuated with windows that looked out over the city. Strange gave a sweeping gesture with his arm, "Take a seat. I'll be with you in a moment, just need to grab some supplies."

Dr. Strange moved his arm in a circle and a sparkling golden circular portal appeared. As Dr. Strange stepped through the portal Peter sat in a poofy armchair next to a crackling fireplace and anxiously picked at his cuticles until Dr. Strange reappeared with an armful of medical equipment, the portal closing behind him with a final shower of sparks, that he carefully set on the glossy wooden coffee table in front of Peter.

Dr. Strange stared at Peter with a clinical eye. He cleared his throat and pulled some white latex gloves onto his hands, "Let's start with your symptoms."

Dr. Strange put a thermometer in Peter's ear, Peter jumped slightly from the sudden invasion of his personal space. The thermometer beeped and Dr. Strange pulled away to read the results.

"Hmm. Mild fever." Dr. Strange said to himself as he jotted down a note on his clipboard. Dr. Strange put the thermometer down and replaced it with a stethoscope. Peter lifted his shirt up to allow Dr. Strange to press the cold metal chest piece of the stethoscope against Peter's chest. Dr. Strange listened for a minute before pulling away and jotting something down on his clipboard.

Peter let his shirt fall back down and watched as Dr. Strange paced to the side hmming to himself before picking up a blood pressure cuff. Peter obediently lifted his arm so that Dr. Strange could wrap the cuff around his bicep. Dr. Strange started squeezing the bulb and watched the gauge with interest, with each pump of the bulb the cuff squeezed tighter and tighter until Dr. Strange seemed satisfied and wrote something down on his clipboard while muttering to himself, "Blood pressure is... high."

Dr. Strange set the clipboard down and turned to Peter, "Well, these readings are certainly... interesting. We'll just need to run some more tests."

The tests Dr. Strange was talking about included looking inside Peter’s mouth with a tongue depressor, measuring his height, testing his reflexes (Peter had nearly kicked Dr. Strange through the wall on that one), as well as using magic in place of certain things such as an x-ray.

Once all the tests were done Dr. Strange sat Peter down and magicked a human skeleton model. "So, this is a typical human skeleton. And this..." Dr. Strange waved his hand and fractures appeared all over the skeleton, "is your skeleton. There's a clear history of numerous fractures, like here on the skull. Everything is nearly perfectly aligned. It almost looks as if the bones healed themselves within hours of when the injuries occurred."

"That's good, right?" Peter gave a nervous smile.

Dr. Strange gave him a sympathetic look, which couldn't be a good sign, his fingers steepled together, "Well, you seem to have made a series of miraculous recoveries, but that doesn't change the fact that you experienced trauma. You've recovered physically, but... have you recovered mentally?"

"You think there's something wrong with my brain?" Peter asked, his panic spiking.

"Not 'wrong'. It's that adverse childhood experiences, or childhood trauma, can have a lasting impact on how your body responds to stress. This can affect your social, emotional, and physical development. When humans are in crisis, the brain releases the hormone cortisol. Your heart races, your muscles tense. I wonder if your body is reacting to a spider equivalent of cortisol. Peter, do you remember anything bad in your childhood that particularly stuck with you?"

Peter scratched the back of his neck nervously and looked down at his lap, "I guess... I kinda freaked out when the Stark Expo was attacked. And then when my parents died. Then the Chitauri invaded New York. I got bitten by a radioactive spider. And then my Uncle Ben was killed. And then I almost killed his killer. Then I got trapped under some rubble and almost died. I fought my then-girlfriend's dad and nearly died. I got beamed up by a spaceship and was beaten up by Thanos. I did die. I got brought back to life. Mr. Stark died-"

"Peter, this is serious."

"But that was just the early stuff."

"I think all these experiences have been subjecting your body to a harmful amount of stress, and that's affecting your ability to respond to new forms of stress in a healthy way. You've been dealing with genuine threats from such a young age, your body now is responding to minor threats as if your life were in danger."

"But why now?" Peter clenched his fists in his lap, his nails digging painfully into his palms, as the all-too-familiar weight in his chest tightened. His heart started pounding and his muscles tensed.

"Stress is less harmful when we have people we trust to help us through it. Maybe if-- if you're losing your supportive relationships or if you had a recent experience that was particularly awf-"

Peter had heard enough. He didn’t need to be reminded of the awful things he’d lived through he just wanted to forget it and move on. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and keep the tears he could feel building up from falling then, heart pounding in his ears, Peter lashed out and webbed Dr. Strange to the wall before escaping out the nearest window.

Peter pushed the guilt down as he quickly pulled his Spider-Man mask on and swung away. He knew Dr. Strange had just been trying to help him but he couldn’t just sit there. He didn’t know where he was swinging until he landed on the roof of Midtown High and tore his mask off.

Chest heaving, thoughts swirling like shards of broken glass in a tornado, Peter yelled out his frustration and threw his mask across the roof, hot tears prickled in his eyes that he refused to let fall. The mask landed and skidded before coming to a stop, the lens for the right eye cracked, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment not when it felt like everything was falling apart.

How could he be Spider-Man when he flipped out over the smallest things? What if he attacked another innocent person again? He was a liability, a danger, to the people he cared about. He started pacing erratically, burying his face in one hand hitting his head with the other, and flinching whenever there was a sudden noise. He simultaneously wanted to curl in on himself and lash out at everything around him. His breathing was irregular and he often found himself taking sudden big gulps of it in. He pressed his palms against his eyes and let out another scream that tore at his throat.

Peter got so lost in his own tumultuous thoughts he didn’t register the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to the roof until the door was thrown open and a familiar voice cried out, “Peter!”

"May?" Peter’s head whipped around and he wanted to melt in relief when he saw her.

May stepped towards him, her hands extended to him, "I'm here."

"H-how'd you know I was here?" Peter stammered out, rubbing his cold nose and shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"Happy called me hours ago, we’ve been looking for you everywhere. Oh, Peter, I'm sorry. If I'd have known, I-"

"It's fine, May. You were busy, a-and I didn't know what was going on." Peter shrugged and took a step back from her, unsure if he wanted to bury himself in her embrace or run away again.

"Come on, Peter. Talk to me." May pleaded, her eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

Peter worried his lip between his teeth, struggling to verbalize his feelings, "I- uh, well, I, um... it's just all too much! I don't know if I can keep doing this."

"Oh, Peter."

Before he could change his mind he plowed on, "My body- it's reacting like it's the end of the world. I think I've seen the world almost end so many times now that everything that goes wrong feels that- that extreme. I should be feeling so good these days. The Earth is safe, Thanos is gone, but I'm- I'm acting out over these small problems. What do I do? How do I move on from all the stuff I've been through? How do I live life if it always feels like I'm about to die?"

"It's gonna be all right, Peter. I'm here for you." May reassured him, her voice soothing and comforting, a blanket of comfort amongst the maelstrom of his thoughts.

Peter collapsed into May’s arms and finally let himself cry. May lowered them to the floor and held him close, rubbing his back soothingly as he cried against her, sobs wracking his body. They remained like that until Peter thought he had cried every drop of liquid out of his body.

Quietly Peter muttered, "I just..." Peter sighed, "I want to go home."

Once they got home May sent Peter off to take a shower and meet in his bedroom when he was done. Peter took the shower as she had told him to and changed into his pajamas before going to his bedroom. May was sitting on the bed, a mug of hot chocolate in her hands with mini marshmallows in it. He sighed and sat down next to her on the bed, gratefully taking the hot chocolate when she offered it to him.

"You feel any better? Is there anything else you want to talk about?" she asked softly.

Peter leaned against his pillow and nodded. He took a sip of his hot chocolate before speaking, "I guess I thought that everything would just go back to the way it was before- before Mr. Stark. Like, everything hadn't happened."

"Cut yourself some slack. It's okay to be worried and make some mistakes when you're figuring out what to do with your life. That's not unusual. Well, the spider stuff is a little unusual, but that's okay, too. If you want to continue being Spider-Man, I'll support you. And if you don't, I'll support that as well."

Peter took a sip of his hot chocolate and then bolted upright, "May, Your job! I've ruined your-"

May cut him off before he could get to worked up, "Don't worry about me. Just get some rest, kiddo. You don't have to solve all your problems in one night."

Peter slumped back down against his pillow in relief and took another sip of his hot chocolate. He could feel his eyes starting to droop and fought back a yawn. He placed the mug on his nightstand and just managed to drowsily say, "Yeah. Thanks, Mom." before falling asleep.

May inhaled sharply, tears pricking her eyes as she was overwhelmed with the love she felt for Peter. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, pulled a blanket over him, and whispered, "Always, Peter." before quietly leaving the room, careful not to step on a Lego, and closing the door behind her.

That night Peter slept better than he had in a long time.