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Peter stepped from the warm office building into the cool New York air, a glaze over his face masking all the thoughts that raced through his mind.
_
“It sounds like you may be experiencing some symptoms of Complex PTSD.”
“PTSD? Like what soldiers get?” Peter asked, his face twisting into confusion
“Well, it’s like PTSD. But it can happen when someone goes through repeated or prolonged trauma, like ongoing abuse or neglect. It can cause similar symptoms—flashbacks, feeling on edge, difficulty sleeping, nightmares.”
“I’m not abused or neglected.” His arms crossed defensively, closing off, because his life was far from perfect, but Ben and May did their best to give him a good childhood, they loved him and he never went without.
“I should be more clear, it can be from any repeated or prolonged trauma. This may be hard to take in Peter, but I’m here to walk you through this, processing these experiences can be extremely challenging.”
_
Tony had set Peter up with this therapist over a year ago after a lengthy depressive episode. It was nice to put a name to everything he had been experiencing but he felt like such a fraud, Complex PTSD, it bleared in his head. He felt like he had been going crazy all these months, seeing shadows out of the corner of his eye, intense nightmares almost nightly, his spidey senses alerting him to things that weren’t really there. Fortunately for him, his mentor was an insomniac, so Peter spent many nights curled up in the seat next to the man while he worked on who knows what. Peter was never really all there, lack of sleep took its toll on the body, mutant or not. Having Tony next to him gave him a hint of safety, enough to let his eyes flutter shut though sleep was usually out of the question.
Though Tony was able to bring him some solace on sleepless nights, Peter let on very little about everything he was experiencing, partially because he didn’t have the words to explain what was happening. The major reason though, was the shame that overtook him, which was silly, he often tried to convince himself, but it never worked.
_
“Regressing. You are likely disassociating after your nightmares and your mind is going back to a time when it felt safe.” She explained, “Instead of tearing yourself down, nurturing that part of you may be helpful.”
“... But it’s weird…” Peter lingered on the thought “I’m an adult, I’m almost nineteen.”
“What would you say if your friend Ned was experiencing this?”
“That’s not fair! That's different.” He defended but they both knew it wasn’t.
“You have to give yourself grace.”
“You always say that.”
“And you never listen.”
_
Tonight was movie night. Usually, Peter would be ecstatic, getting to spend time with the other heroes, but lack of any real sleep dampened his excitement. He found himself curled up on the couch squeezed between Tony and Bucky covered by the throw blanket Tony gave him when he first moved into the tower. Peter was only half aware of his surroundings, and once the movie started his head slowly lulled onto Bucky.
The Kids' dark circles and unusual lack of energy had not gone unnoticed by the team, seeing him get some rest was a welcomed sight. Clint turned the movie down several notches, to ensure Peter would stay asleep through loud scenes.
Three-quarters of the way through the movie, Peter began to twitch, occasionally letting out a weak mumble. The movements started out small but quickly turned into violent thrashing and screaming, startling the team of heroes. Steve tried to wake him from the nightmare, but before Natasha could intervene, Peter’s fist connected with Steve’s chest. The man took the impact well, to his credit. Peter pulled in a gasp of air before his eyes snapped open. Immediately tears started to stream down his face, as his brain tried to make sense of his unfamiliar surroundings. His pajama pants turned a darker shade of gray as his bladder released uncontrollably.
“Hey, It’s okay Peter you’re safe, you’re here with us. It's Tony, Peter, you’re safe, you’re OK, you’re safe. “ Tony repeated like it was a mantra. Peter’s thumb went up to his mouth, the suckling motion soothing him enough to listen to the words Tony was repeating. His other hand gripped his blanket, pulling it close to his cheek, letting the plush, familiar feeling soothe him.
He scurried closer to Tony’s soothing voice, face planting against Tony’s shoulder, his tears and snot wiping against the man's sleep shirt. His body shook with sobs as he tried to soothe himself. His hyperventilating breaths became slower staggered shaky exhales, and hiccuping coughs.
The Avengers were no strangers to the effects of PTSD, and each had their own experience with nightmares, as well as their own way of handling them. Trauma was just a part of being a hero.
“Pete, you okay bud?” Tony asked, rubbing circles into Peter’s back gently.
Peter didn’t respond but lifted his head, thumb still stuck firmly in his mouth. His eyes were blown wide as he assessed his surroundings once again. His brain was foggy, trying to make sense of everything around him after the jarring nightmare.
His therapist had taught him some tools to help ground him, but in moments like these implementing those tools was the last thing he was thinking of. He looked down at his hand gripping the blanket still held tightly in his fist, he watched his fingers curl and uncurl from the soft fabric.
_
“I read about other people’s experiences with dissociation, a lot of people said it felt like a dream, like being detached from your body. That doesn’t really sound like what I’m experiencing…”
“Dissociation can affect people in many different ways, the experience varies from person to person. What do you feel?”
“Um… I don’t know how to describe it.”
“That’s okay, just try your best.”
“ I guess I feel, I don’t know… Small, well, I don't feel small I guess everything just feels… bigger, like it's towering over me.”
“That sounds like it could be really scary, what else do you feel in these situations?”
“It can be, but sometimes I just feel kinda fuzzy, like my brain is rebooting and the loading screen is me, as a baby if that makes sense…”
“How long does this feeling usually last?”
“Sometimes a few minutes, sometimes hours, just depends” Peter shrugged.
“How do you feel after?”
‘Ashamed’ Peter’s mind offered up but he knew what Dr.Robbins would respond with. “It feels different every time I guess, confused, tired, anxious.” He looked up into her eyes and then quickly back down into his lap. “I wet the bed,” he mumbled unclearly.
“Sorry Peter, what was that?”
“I wet the bed, at night, ya’ know like after the nightmares and stuff I can’t control it.” His face burned red with embarrassment refusing to make eye contact again with her the entirety of their session. “So after I just… change everything and go sit with Tony in the lab, he’s usually up.”
_
Tony’s face was a calming sight in and of itself, it meant familiar safety to Peter’s subconscious... The movie played on in the background, but the Avengers’ attention was on their youngest teammate, who was seeming younger as the minutes ticked on.
“Hey Peter, you with us kid?” Sam asked. Sam was a helluva therapist himself, he specialized in trauma, so this wasn’t an uncommon sight in his field. He mentally checked off the boxes, and it quickly became clear Peter was in a regressed state, and while he seemed to be calming down, the regression seemed to stick.
Peter didn’t respond verbally, but his eyes flicked towards Sam which was a response in itself. “Can you take a deep breath for me, just copy me okay.” Peter removed his finger from his mouth hesitantly, and he followed Sam’s exaggerated breathing.
“Good job buddy.” Tony Praised, feeling Peter’s tensed muscles relax.
“That’s it, Peter, you’re here in the tower kid, it’s movie night, you’re sitting next to Tony and Barnes. Were watching ‘Night at the Museum’, and Clint just heated up some more popcorn, can you smell it?” Peter nodded in response to the question. His eyes drifted to the TV, confirming that ‘Night at the Museum’ was in fact playing on the screen.
“Try this.” Natasha requested holding something in front of his mouth, Peter obliged by opening up and biting down on something sour that made his mouth pucker. He chewed realizing that this was in fact a Sourpatch Kid, one of his favorite candies, the one he had picked out for movie night.
Movie night at the tower, where they were watching ‘Night at the Museum’, and eating popcorn. He was there on the couch where he had curled up next to Tony and Bucky, his soft blanket was no longer laying over him, but instead balled up against his chest, gripped tight by his fist. Tony’s hand was on his back still rubbing it softly, and his pants were wet, itchy, and cold.
“I’m so so sorry.” Were the only words his brain was able to come up with. He felt like running. Where? Anywhere, preferably someplace with a lock, where he could hide and never face the team again. He stood but that’s about as far as he got, face planting into the rug beneath him, his legs feeling about as strong as jello. Bucky had made quick work of lifting him off the ground and onto his lap, wrapping his metal arm around the kid’s waist to keep him from trying to take off again.
“Hey, it’s okay, we get it.” Clint comforted, standing and waving the two towards the elevator. Bucky stood lifting Peter with him, much to Peter’s dismay. “We’ll be right back,” Clint assured the rest of the team before stepping onto the elevator and pressing the button to his floor.
“Let's get you clean.” Clint led them to his ensuite bathroom, digging under the sink for a moment before pulling out an old pack of pull-ups he had from the last time his son Nathaniel had spent the night. Peter squirmed, hating the embarrassment, but knowing Clint was right in his actions. Clint, although quite childish himself at times, was a great father, and knew when he needed to be serious.
Bucky set Peter down on the lid of the toilet waiting for a nod of consent before helping Peter out of his soiled PJs. Peter’s legs were still shaky, he didn’t dare stand. Clint handed him a few wet wipes and Peter wiped himself down. Once he was done cleaning himself off, Bucky helped him into the Pull-up. Clint helpfully supplied a clean pair of his own PJs which Bucky had to tie up into Peter’s small frame.
“See, all better.”
Bucky hefted Peter back up onto his hip with ease.
“No need for tears Pete, all better,” Clint assured wiping the tears from Peter’s cheeks. He hadn’t even realized he was crying, a few more tears slipped down more out of embarrassment than anything else. The crew made their way back to the communal floor, where the lights had been flicked on and the rest of the Avengers talked in hushed voices. Peter could only imagine what the group of heroes must be thinking. Peter may as well have been a fully grown man crying, sucking his thumb, and wetting himself over some nightmare. His thoughts continued to tear him down until he was brought out of it by Tony’s voice.
“Is this why you haven’t been sleeping?”
Peter nodded, he was so tired. His psychiatrist had prescribed him medication to help with the nightmares but it didn’t seem to be helping.
“Peter you can always come to any of us,” Steve assured, Natasha nodded in agreement.
“The nightmares aren’t just going to disappear because I’m with you guys,” Peter said frustrated, if only it could be that easy.
“But we can help you if you wake up, you don’t need to go through it alone.”
“I’m not a baby, I can take care of myself,” Peter stated the defensiveness was clear in his tone.
“No one said that you were a baby, but if you were that would be okay too. We all have different ways of processing trauma.” Sam cut in.
“You sound like my therapist.”
“Well, she’s right then.”