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Maybe it’s embarrassment that stops him from telling the team. Peter runs headfirst into dangerous situations every day, puts his life on the line repeatedly and escapes unscathed more often than not, but his nemesis this time is the single flight of stairs in his apartment building he descends each morning.
He’s later than he usually is, and already feeling a little flustered from both the toaster and coffee machine breaking, leaving him with a cup of instant coffee and an overripe banana for breakfast, which only makes the situation worse. As if lying sprawled out in a public stairwell wasn’t bad enough, doing so hungry and frustrated is far from ideal. He gingerly pulls himself up, catching a glimpse of a “Caution: Wet Floor” sign he somehow missed, and winces as pain floods his body.
His ankle is screaming at him, throbbing and burning, and for a moment Peter has to close his eyes against the gut-wrenching pain of a twisted ankle flaring up his calf. A couple of thankfully undisturbed minutes later, the pain eases enough for him to open his eyes and inspect the damage. It’s already swelling slightly, and he’s certain he’ll be covered in bruises by tonight if the aching of his entire body is anything to go by.
For a brief moment he considers calling Tony or May or even Ned to come and help him; maybe even telling Tony he can’t come on the mission scheduled for this afternoon, but he quickly pushes that thought away because if he’s honest with himself, it’s not really embarrassment that stops him from telling the team. It’s a good cover story to keep him from addressing the real reason, but it isn’t the truth.
The truth – the honest reality that he’ll only admit to himself late at night when he’s alone on a rooftop, surveying the city below him with cold tears drying under his mask and his hair ruffling in the wind – is that the only time he ever feels valuable is when he’s Spider-Man. And he knows himself. That cruel voice in the back of his head will waste no time in piping up, telling him how worthless he is, what a burden his friends and father figure see him as, how insignificant he is to the team if he doesn’t suck it up and head to the compound.
Fighting back the tears burning hot behind his eyes with ardent determination, he drags himself up by the stair handrail until he’s upright. His ribs ache and his ankle burns something fierce, but he compartmentalises it, breathing deeply and taking a few tentative steps, one at a time until he’s limping towards the train station. What a truly awful day for Happy to be away on business.
The moment FRIDAY lets him out onto the common floor, Tony grabs his shoulder. “You’re just in time, kid,” he says brightly, steering them towards the meeting room where he’s sure the others are waiting. “We’re just about to start the briefing.”
Everyone’s already seated at the table, and no matter how much he tries to disguise his limp, putting far too much weight on his battered ankle, he can’t get it past a room full of eagle-eyed superheroes.
“Hey, Pete, you alright?” Bruce asks, brows furrowed.
Tony raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice that limp of yours, Pete.” His tone is light, carrying the cadence of joking banter, but he can see the concern in his eyes, and that’s just unacceptable. He can’t have people worrying about him: he’s not worth their pitied looks or vapid attempts at comfort, especially not when they have a literal mission to be focusing on.
He slips into a seat and manages to conceal a wince at the movement of his ankle swinging forward. “Oh, uh, I just stubbed my toe pretty hard on the way in.” It’s not convincing even to his own ears, but luckily, it’s enough of a time-sensitive mission for Steve to barrel on regardless, drawing everyone’s worried glances away from him and towards the board full of blueprints, diagrams, and maps.
The fact of the matter is, no matter how many years he’s been Spider-Man, no matter how many missions he racks up, he’s still the new kid on the team. He’s still lacking in confidence – especially when he’s just Peter Parker – and he knows it shows, knows it’s the primary factor holding him back. His teammates are the sort of people who never have trouble fitting in anywhere, and it’s never been quite that easy for Peter.
Pushing his insecurities aside like he always has to do in these meetings, he listens to Steve’s briefing carefully while closely examining the material on the board before offering his own contributions. The mission is to take down a base of amateur supervillains currently planning to use the expanse of the American plains and the elements of the countryside to aid in a plan of mass destruction. They’re going to work with both local and federal law enforcement to track down the base itself as well as every last participant as quickly as possible. With intel that the base intends to execute its plan within days, they don’t waste any time in boarding the quinjet and flying the short way to West Kentucky.
It’s a short enough flight that there’s no time for personal conversation — no time for Tony (or anyone else for that matter) to confront him about his blatant lie and obvious injury — since they spend the whole journey discussing the case. Thankfully, throwing himself headfirst into theories and hypotheses keeps his mind off the pain a bit, but he can’t fully keep it from bothering him.
Peter’s just thankful that with everything he’s gone through in his life, he has enough experience in disguising his true emotions that no-one’s attention is drawn to him by poorly hidden winces. Maybe all that trauma is finally paying its dues.
They dive straight into the investigation when they arrive at the control centre, everyone laser focused on finding the base and tracking down the supervillains responsible for it. By mid-afternoon, though, Peter’s gritting his teeth as he forces himself to persevere through the pain despite it increasing incrementally every hour, and he curses himself for not being able to dedicate 100% of himself to the case. If he can’t help everyone find the bad guys, then what is he good for? His stomach twists at the thought.
“You gonna tell me what’s really going on, Pete?” Tony asks him as it approaches 4pm, cornering him at the coffee machine.
Peter looks around as subtly as he can for an escape, but he quickly succumbs to his fate. “I’m fine, Tony,” he promises. It’s so far from the truth that he wants to cry.
The concern in Tony’s eyes only intensifies at that. “Seriously? You’ve been quiet this whole case, I catch you wincing when you think no-one’s looking, and you’re still limping. A stubbed toe wouldn’t do that, kid, and you know it.”
He sighs, knowing the jig is up. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Tony.” He’s not sure it’s the truth, but it’s close enough to it that it doesn’t bring burning tears to the backs of his eyes.
Still, all he wants right now is to throw himself into Tony’s arms and cry it out before letting him patch up his ankle. He wants so badly to unburden himself to his father figure and to trust in the outcome, but he knows what he’d be admitting by giving in. That he’s not good enough. That the voices were right all along.
Tony’s about to say something when Natasha calls out for him. They both turn to look at her, Peter feeling relief flood his chest, while Tony’s expression quickly morphs into one of frustration, sighing heavily as he curls his hands into tight fists.
“This isn’t over, Pete,” he says seriously, levelling him with a serious look before walking back over to Natasha, leaving Peter to stir his bitter coffee in peace. It definitely doesn’t make him want to cry.
They finally get a break in the case at nightfall, the combined manpower of all these different agencies and organisations paying off in the end by leading them to a secluded but open area down by a small river. Knowing that this is their moment to shine, Steve gathers them all up, reminding them of their mission and the strategy they intend to execute.
Peter’s heart sinks as everyone gathers their equipment and dons their suits, and he’s almost relieved when Tony turns to him. “You’re not going,” he insists.
If he doesn’t go out in the rescue party, then he’s still served his purpose, hasn’t he? He helped with the profile that narrowed down the area she’s likely to be in, he worked the case until this point, he can rest and still be worth something. Right?
But then the thought of how his teammates would react grips him by the stomach. What would Black Widow – the woman who’s scratched and fought and clawed her way back from countless crises, bearing far worse injuries than a sprained ankle – think of him if he sat this one out? How could Captain America – literal war hero – ever take him as a serious superhero again? He can’t have the people he cares about so much thinking he’s weak. He’s still so desperate for their approval, and as much as his head screams for him to comply with Tony’s order, his aching heart knows he can’t accept it.
“I’m going,” he says decisively, not meeting Tony’s eyes.
“No, Pete,” Tony says firmly, although he grabs Peter’s arm as gently as he always does, turning him to face him. “You’re injured and you will only put yourself and your teammates at risk.”
“You can’t stop me, Tony,” Peter insists, and he feels terrible for being so hostile to his closest ally, to the man he considers a father, but he just can’t risk losing this team.
He watches as Tony glowers, sighs, and then goes over to Steve, trying to get him to see that Peter can’t go.
“We need all the manpower we can get,” Steve says, clearly distracted in the same way he has been throughout the entire case. Peter likes Steve, but he does tend to wear blinkers when on a mission, not noticing anything that doesn’t pertain to the ultimate goal. “And the kid’s a grown up now, Tony. If he says he’s fine, he’s fine.”
“Are you kidding me, spandex? He’s been limping all day; he can’t go on a miles long hike across the open plains!”
Steve briefly looks over at Peter who does his best to look as a-okay as humanly possible. “What do you want me to do?” he shrugs. “I’m sure the kid will be fine. I need to go and prep the helicopter team.”
Tony throws his hands up in the air and stalks back over to Peter. “Stick close to me,” he says, his irritated tone making Peter want to cower. “And when we get back, you are so grounded.”
The pleasant temperature of the mid-spring day drops to almost freezing as the sun sets, the moon and stars taking over the clear night sky. Even Peter’s thickest coat isn’t enough to keep him from practically vibrating with the force of his shivers as they trek across the miles of terrain towards the base, staying as quiet as possible to listen for anything that could indicate the presence of hostiles. They’re spread out a little, but for the most part they all walk reasonably close together, the beams of their torches criss-crossing as they fight their way through the windy countryside.
The actual takedown of the base is relatively straightforward. The strategy works perfectly with Peter securing the control room, Natasha taking out the guards, and Tony, Steve, and Bruce securing the supervillains on the base. Two were unaccounted for, but the helicopter team comprised of law enforcement spotted them running through the fields surrounding the compound, and Tony wasted no time in flying over to take them down. A couple shots were fired, but luckily no spells or curses or alien technology were present, so it ended up being a smooth operation with a desirable outcome, the worst injury being a bullet graze on Natasha’s arm.
Peter can barely bring himself to feel any kind of victory or relief, nothing being able to penetrate the haze of pain he’s in, but everyone else chatters happily enough as they converge back together for his silence to go mostly unnoticed.
His obscurity doesn’t last long, though.
“Are you ever gonna tell us what happened to your foot, Pete?” Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow at Peter’s heavy limping and Tony’s worried hovering. By the second mile of their walk, Peter had given up trying to hide the limp, instead focusing on gritting his teeth and breathing through the pain as it flares up his leg.
She’s clearly voicing what everyone else is thinking, judging by their worried expressions. Part of him wants to give in and tell the team, but the part that wants to continue to hide his embarrassment away, the part riddled with fear and insecurity wins out. He stubbornly shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly. In the kind of terrible timing so emblematic of the life of Peter Parker, in the short second he has his eyes closed he manages to stumble into a small divot in the ground, and he trips, twisting his ankle all over again as he falls down.
His vision whites out, the pain suddenly all-consuming, punching nausea through his stomach and he can’t help the cry he lets escape as he lays helplessly in the grass.
“Peter!”
Tony crouches next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder as he kneels beside him, and Peter can’t help but lean up into it, craving the kind of comfort he can only get from his father figure. Steve joins them quickly as Bruce and Natasha stand close enough to offer support without crowding him.
“That’s it, Peter,” Tony says firmly, “you need to tell us what’s going on.”
As the blinding pain slowly fades into something minutely more bearable, Peter forces his eyes open to face the team. “I fell down the stairs this morning,” he finally admits, sullen and teary. “Pretty sure I sprained my ankle.”
Tony wastes no time in unzipping the carefully concealed zip on his foot to reveal the bruised, swollen joint to the torches of his teammates. He audibly winces as he positions himself behind Peter, supporting his back as his tired, aching body starts to collapse.
Steve pushes forward, levelling him with a stern glare as Tony finishes his tender inspection of his ankle. “Peter, it was incredibly irresponsible to hide something like this. You not only put yourself in danger, but you put the rest of the team at risk, too—”
He doesn’t get any further in his lecture before the tears he’s been holding back all day, finally spill over and a dry, sudden sob, his bruised and aching rib cage heaving as he starts to unravel at the seams. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Steve’s face falls, clearly not expecting to be met with tears, and Tony signals for him to pull back, drawing Peter’s attention back to him. Steve puts his leg down gently, but he takes Peter’s hand tentatively instead, a hesitant display of affection, and Tony pulls him into a tight hug, turning slightly to face Peter better. “Hey, it’s okay, Pete, Steve’s just worried about you, okay? He didn’t mean to yell,” he says soothingly, reciprocating as Peter leans closer into his hold. “You’re not in trouble, we’re just worried about you, Peter. Why didn’t you tell us you were hurt this badly?”
He squeezes his eyes closed again: it’s as much dignity as he can hope for when his face is crumpling and he’s sobbing on the cold, hard ground as it nears two in the morning. “I just… I just wanted to be worth something.” It’s an admission he’ll regret later, he already knows that, but he’s so so tired and all he wants is the comfort that only his team – but mostly Tony – can provide.
Tony pulls him into an even tighter hug before anyone can react, holding him against his chest fiercely while his hand plays gently with his hair. “Peter, you are worth something whether you’re injured or fully intact, you hear me? We’d love you with a broken leg, with a bad case of the flu, if you woke up without powers tomorrow and decided to never be a superhero again. But most importantly, we love you now, kid. No matter what. Nothing can change that, alright?”
“He’s right, Pete,” Bruce says softly, sinking to the ground along with Natasha. “I know you think we only tolerate you because of your powers and what you bring to the table on a mission, but you’re so much more than that. We love your nerdy rambles and your awkward waves and the way you love so openly and protectively, no matter how many times you’ve been hurt before. We love everything about you, Peter.”
“Yeah, if you’re hurt, kid, we want to know,” Natasha chimes in, sounding a little hesitant as the one on the team least comfortable with emotions, but firm in what she’s saying, nonetheless. “I know you haven’t been on the team that long but you gotta know, Pete, this is a group of people that watches out for one another, that supports each other, that builds everyone up leaving no person behind. That includes you, Peter, even when you don’t feel like it.”
“Everyone is right, Peter,” Steve says softly, still holding his cold and shaking hand protectively in his gloved one. “I’m just sad that you still prioritise your position on this team over your own health. You are not just Spider-Man. You are an incredibly talented and multi-faceted person that oftentimes needs a little TLC, and until you’re willing and able to do that for yourself, we’ll be here to do it for you, okay?”
Tears are streaming down his face as he nods, feeling warmer than he has all day despite the cold dark night they’ve found themselves in. The strangest part about it all is that he’s actually starting to believe them. It’s not like they haven’t all said similar things before, but hearing them all vehemently corroborating each other’s stories, hearing it all laid out in front of him as they promise him with earnest expressions that they’re telling the truth is doing something to shift the leaden weight of insecurity and low self-esteem that presses on his chest each and every day.
“Now, come on,” Tony says. “Let’s get back to base and we’ll get you to the Medbay in no time, see you’re checked out and make sure it’s nothing more than a sprain.”
He shifts behind Peter, using his already firm hold on his waist to help gently pull him up to a standing position, taking most of his weight as Peter whimpers at the pain that swiftly reignites at the movement.
Tony turns around and bends at the knees slightly as Peter leans on Steve, before looking over his shoulder, his signature grin returning. “Hop on, Pete.”
“What— Tony! I’m way too heavy!”
Everyone immediately breaks out in amused laughter, even Steve chuckling fondly.
Tony rolls his eyes. “Come on, Peter, those spider genes took all the weight off you, and you know it. You can’t exactly walk on that ankle anymore and it’s the only way we’re getting back without calling for a search and rescue team of our own.”
“Why don’t we fly?”
“These repulsors are tired, and besides, a nice leisurely walk is exactly what we need at the end of a day like this.”
Peter knows it’s a lie, but when Natasha raises her eyebrows pointedly and says, “Come on, Pete. Just let him carry you back,” he hears the implied let us take care of you and decides to drop it. Maybe this is what Tony needs right now, and if Peter’s honest with himself, a little deliberate and honest love and care is definitely what he needs.
Steve lifts him onto Tony’s back and they begin the long trek towards the search and rescue base, and Peter’s never appreciated the easy banter they all share more. Steve is visibly relaxed with the mission a success and his youngest team member soon to be taken care of, so he joins in with the conversation, the serious team-leader demeanour replaced with something light and happy.
Peter clings on tightly to Tony and presses his face into the space between his neck and his shoulder, closing his eyes as he listens to the conversation, the vibration of Tony’s laugh and the playful, platonic flirting between Bruce and Natasha taking his mind off the pain that throbs in his ankle with each step Tony takes.
A couple of hours later, they all gather round Peter’s bed in the Medbay, Tony perched on the side of it, his arm around Peter.
“So, what did they say?” Natasha asks.
“Broken in two places,” Tony says pointedly, his fatherly disapproval shining through his sympathy and concern for a moment. “For a superhero he sure has weak bones.”
Bruce hums in assent, looking like he expected as much. “Well now they’ve been set and casted up, you should heal quickly.”
Peter nods. “Yeah, that’s what Dr Cho said.”
“Well, son, I hope we can put this whole habit of hiding injuries behind us now, hm?” Steve says, before softening. “We care about you, Pete. You gotta listen to us when we tell you that, and take care of yourself when you’re hurt, alright?
Natasha gives him a small smile. “Steve’s right, Pete, and you won’t hear me say that often. But I’m glad you’re going to be okay.”
Peter smiles back at her, relaxing into Tony’s hold as tiredness grips him a little tighter.
“Right,” Steve says, clearing his throat. “De-brief tomorrow if you’re up for it, but as for now, we’re all going to get some much-deserved rest. Sleep well, Pete.”
They all smile and wave before taking their leave, leaving him in Tony’s arms and company, feeling sleepy and much better for the painkillers they have him on.
“Can you get up here properly?” Peter asks, the confidence to ask almost certainly coming from the drugs Dr Cho has him on. “I want a cuddle.”
Tony rolls his eyes fondly but wastes no time in shifting so he’s sat on Peter’s bed properly, wrapping his arm around his kid and letting him rest comfortably on his chest.
“You know you’re loved, right, kid?” he murmurs, and Peter nods, because right now, he’s cuddled into the arms of his pseudo-dad, treated by the best medical professionals in the world just because his superhero friends wanted him to be, and has spent the last few hours being assured countless times of the fact by said superhero friends and said pseudo-dad.
“Yeah, I do,” he slurs sleepily.
“You know I love you, right?” Tony murmurs even quieter his hand finding Peter’s hair.
“Yeah,” Peter exhales almost silently, “I love you too, Dad.”
He falls asleep to Tony pressing a kiss to his hair before caressing his head gently, carding his fingers through his curls. “Oh, kid,” Peter hears just before he falls asleep, “that’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear.”
He drifts off with a smile on his face.