Chapter Text
“It’s been like— 5 years,” Peter said, throwing his backpack to the couch. He was already dressed in his suit, ready to run down to the beach.
“Has it been that long?” Dad asked, being much more careful as he set his suitcase by the door.
“Yes!” Peter was already looking outside the sliding glass doors, where the ocean was calling his name. “Can we go?”
“Dad and I don’t even have our suits on yet,” Pops said with a chuckle.
Peter had told them to get dressed before getting in the car, but his dads and Harley had been so worried about chaffing. “Hurry up!”
“Okay, okay, drama queen,” Harley said, flicking Peter’s ear as he passed.
Peter shoved Harley’s hand away from him. “Go!”
Thankfully, none of them wasted any more time before heading to a private place to change. Peter waited at the glass door, his eyes tracking every wave crashing to the shore.
He knew the rule: no one was allowed on the beach alone, especially in the water.
He understood the rule, but that didn’t make it any easier to adhere to. His leg was bouncing, and his fingers were tapping against the glass.
It had been years since they had last gone on a beach vacation together. It was just the four of them before Harley started his first mini-tour, and Peter was so grateful that he didn’t have to share Harley’s time with anyone else but Dad and Pops. He’d be leaving for a few months soon, and Peter was already missing him. It was rare for him to get alone time with his older brother since he moved into an apartment with Cooper and got serious with Gwen. Now, he’d see him even less with his upcoming shows.
He was endlessly happy for his brother. Harley was getting everything he’d ever wanted. He worked hard, and he deserved all of this.
Still, it hurt Peter more than he’d admit to anyone to stay behind, watching Harley grow into something big when he stayed small and insignificant. He never held it against Harley— not when he had given up so much for Peter. Letting him go with nothing but support was the least he could do for Harley.
Even when he did dumb older brother stuff like confining him in an unexpected headlock and rubbing his knuckles hard against the top of his head.
Peter was the shortest in their family— even Nate, the preteen, was starting to catch up to him— so he stood no chance of getting Harley off of him.
Of course, the moment Peter needed out, Harley would give it. But that wasn’t a card Peter ever liked to pull. His family already handled him with too much care.
“Stop!” Peter said, trying to shove Harley’s hands off of him. Harley didn't budge. Mustard was their secret word to stop everything because Peter had picked it when he was younger and he just really hated mustard.
Okay, he still hated it.
But he didn’t hate this. He loved it.
“Admit I’m cooler than you, and maybe I will.”
Peter already knew that, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “You wish!”
“Say it!” Harley squeezed him tighter, making Peter squirm.
He had two secret weapons to get out of this.
The first was Pops, but Peter guessed he and Dad were using some alone time to make out, so that wasn’t going to be useful.
His next weapon required more stealth and skill to keep Harley from stopping him before he accomplished the mission.
Peter just needed to twist and wiggle, pretending to try to escape from an unbreakable hold. In reality, he was only shifting his position so he could get his hand up higher just enough to reach Harley’s chest and…yank!
“Ow, fuck!”
With a grin, Peter used the distraction to untangle himself from Harley’s arms. He faced his brother proudly, brandishing his trophy.
“Dude,” Harley said, nursing his pec. “You can’t keep ripping off my chest hair.”
“Yes, I can.” Peter threw the two hairs at him. “Maybe if you wore a shirt, it wouldn’t be so easy.”
Harley rolled his eyes. “We’re at the beach, Peter. Not church.”
Peter shrugged his very covered shoulders. Whether at a beach or a pool, he always kept a long-sleeved sun shirt on. “I’m keeping my skin safe.”
From the sun, and from strangers’ gazes that might linger a little too long.
“Oh, really?” Harley asked, grabbing Peter’s earlobe. “What about this skin?”
“Ow! Harley!”
“What? You’ve got no chest hair for me to yank off. This is the next best thing.” He tugged Peter’s ear down, bending him uncomfortably.
“Harley, leave your brother alone.”
Finally! His savior was here!
“Pops!” Peter cried out, emphasizing the distress in his voice. “Help me!”
“Oh, here you go, ya little baby.”
If Peter had to put up with Pops’ overbearingness when it was not needed, then he was going to take advantage of it when it was. While he waited for his knight in shining armor, Peter used his hands to try to reach for his chest again.
“No— not again!” Harley tugged his ear away from him so that Peter couldn’t reach him.
“Okay, boys, let’s call a truce.” Pops’ voice was warm as he put a hand on Harley’s shoulder.
“He keeps pulling my chest hair!”
“You were giving me a noogie!”
Dad laughed. “Are we sure these boys are 14 and 21?”
“Let him go now, Harley,” Pops said. “You can get your revenge later.”
“Really?”
“No.”
Peter grinned, pulling himself out of Harley’s now loose hold. He turned on Harley, sticking out his tongue.
Harley smirked. “Last one to the water is a rotten egg.” He was gone before Peter could even pull his tongue back in his mouth.
“Not fair!” Peter called after him. “Your legs are longer!”
Even though Harley would beat him to where the water touched the shore, Peter knew he’d beat him into the waves. He used that thought to fuel the distance between them, and before long, Peter was caught up to Harley.
Harley stopped as the waves crashed at his feet, glancing back to see where Peter was. Peter was grinning like mad as he ran past Harley, fought against the small wave breaks, and dove beneath the cold, salty water.
His ears were overwhelmed with the sounds of the world around— the birds, the waves, Harley's yelling, kids and families in the distance. It was too much, but he knew in a second, it would be gone. The moment his body submerged, Peter felt himself leave the world behind. Sounds were muffled under here as the pressure of water surrounded him. His hair flowed in the sea, and he opened his eyes to try to catch a peek of anything around him. It was too dark, and he knew his eyes would burn if he kept them open for too long.
He stayed underneath until his lungs begged for air. He broke through to the surface, pretending he was the little mermaid. He rubbed his eyes to stop them from stinging. He needed to ask Pops and Dad to pack a pair of goggles next time. He always forgot.
“You fish!” Harley yelled, struggling to make it through the first few waves to join Peter.
Peter couldn’t hold back his laughter when a wave came in from the side and knocked Harley down. He laughed even harder as it knocked him all the way back to the shore. Surprisingly, he managed to push himself up before he could be pulled back in.
“You’re not supposed to fall!”
“Thanks, genius!” Harley sputtered, wiping the sand off his face.
“Dive under the big ones,” Peter told him, helpfully. “You can’t fight the force of a wave. Go underneath it.”
Harley nodded his head, absorbing the new information from Peter. Pride swelled in his chest as his big brother followed his advice on the next wave and dove underneath to beat it. He came back, untouched by the break. He gave Peter a thumbs-up, and Peter returned it with a smile.
While Harley was making his way in, Peter dove underneath a few more waves, venturing into the water until his feet no longer touched the bottom. He knew this rule too: stop when he couldn’t reach the ground. Peter stopped, bobbing in the waves and taking in deep breaths.
Lying on his back, he stared up at the endless sky above him. Here, in the open ocean, there were no walls, no corners, no doors to lock.
There was just water as far as the eyes could see. Peter felt his heartbeat match the swell of the waves as he relaxed under the sun for a long moment. He knew it couldn’t last long, or he’d start drifting, so he soaked up the peace while he could.
When he swam upright again, he realized he couldn’t brush his toes on the floor if he tried. He needed to come in some more. His eyes turned to the shore where Pops and Dad were standing now, watching them.
Pops’ eyes were on him, like usual, and Peter held his breath. He waited for the call to come.
Come back in
Stay where I can see you!
You’re too far, Peter!
But it didn’t come. Pops continued to stand there, arms crossed loosely over his chest as he stared back at Peter. Dad was beside him, leaning in close. Peter wasn’t sure what he said, but Pops didn’t take his eyes off Peter.
Then, in the next second, Pops exhaled, and his shoulders relaxed. Pops nodded his head, and Peter realized that nod was not for Dad but for him. He was giving him the okay…he was giving Peter his full trust.
Peter kicked his feet happily underneath him, his smile so wide it hurt his cheeks. He waved wildly to Pops, letting him know how grateful he was for a man like him. He was too far for Peter to see his exact facial expression, but he imagined a small smile on Pops’ face.
Without waiting another second, Peter dove under another wave, relishing the way the water broke against his skin. He loved the way the rest of the world was silenced underneath the water. He felt weightless in every sense of the word down here.
He swam back up just as a wave was crashing overhead and rode it in until he was beside Harley. Harley was out of breath, struggling against the water. “You’re such a show-off.”
There wasn’t anything in the entire world that Peter was better at than Harley, but this was it. Water was his thing—his sanctuary.
“Did you see Pops?” Peter asked Harley, glancing over his shoulder where Pops was now sitting on the sand. He was rarely ever so calm when Peter was doing something mildly dangerous. “He trusts me out here.”
“Of course he does,” Harley replied easily. “He knows this is your place.”
“My place?”
“You thrive in water. It’s fun to see.” Harley smiled at him just before another wave crashed over his head.
Peter couldn’t help but laugh as Harley sputtered, salt water splashing over his face. “You know, you’re not very good at this.”
Harley coughed up some water. “Don’t remind me.”
The smile on Peter’s face softened as he stretched out a hand, wrinkly fingers wiggling slightly. “Come on, I’ll help you go under.”
Harley took his hand without a moment of hesitation. Peter tugged him close and said, “I’ll count down when the next wave comes. We’ve just got to time it right so we don’t come up in the middle of the wave.”
There was a nervousness in Harley’s eyes, but he didn’t try to get out of it. Instead, he nodded his head. “Let’s go. I can be brave like my little brother.”
“I know what you’re doing,” Peter told him as they slowly swam together.
“Did it work?” Harley asked instead.
“Maybe.”
The grin on Harley’s face stretched wide. Peter’s face began to match as he watched his brother assess the upcoming waves.
This moment wasn’t going to last forever, but maybe, if Peter studied it really hard, he’d see it every time he closed his eyes.
The wave crashed above them as they dove under it, and Peter felt everything wash away with it. With Harley by his side, it felt like everything was always going to be okay.
His garden wasn’t big, just a stretch of soil along the back fence. Pops had tried to help him with “proper spacing”, and Peter had started with that in mind but it became more crooked and cramped as it went on.
It was wild and chaotic, but that was how Peter liked it. Sometimes colors coordinated, and sometimes they looked like a puddle of melted crayons.
It was perfect.
Peter was kneeling in the dirt, although he had a cushion nearby. He had abandoned his gloves a few minutes ago because they put a barrier between his skin and the plants that Peter. He hated that. It was hard to be gentle while wearing them, too.
With careful fingers, he patted the dirt around the daisy he was tending to. Just like every other flower nearby, it seemed to be leaning away from Peter. Of course, they were. Flowers liked brightness and warmth. Peter was none of that, especially today.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m feeling a little sad today.”
Today? Try every day.
“Harley left last night. I know he’s had an apartment with Cooper, but that was like 5 minutes away. Now he’s…anywhere but here. Until May.”
The wind blew, dislodging some dead leaves around the soil. Peter picked them up and put them in his trash pile. His eyes noticed a dead bud on one of his pink zinnias. How could he have missed that?
“Oh, let me get that!” Peter gently pulled off the dead bud. “There. You’ll be okay. We’re just making room for the new buds.”
The leaves on the stem blew softly, and Peter imagined it was thanking him. He smiled, letting some of the peace in his garden soothe him.
Then a shadow loomed over him, but it didn’t take away any of the sun’s warmth. It almost rivaled it, daring the sun to burn brighter, knowing it couldn’t. Peter knew who that was before he turned to look at the source.
Pops was standing behind him, a glass of lemonade in his hand. “You’re working hard out here.”
“I’m just cleaning them up. They needed help.”
Pops squatted next to him, his arms bracing on his knees. “Everyone needs a little help sometimes.”
That was true for some people like Peter. Definitely not for people like Harley. Peter didn't share this, but only nodded his head.
“I love finding you out here in the dirt,” Pops said, his eyes scanning his anything but perfect garden. “It reminds me to come to a low level and take a look.”
Frowning, Peter gave him a confused look. “Then you just see all the weeds and dead flowers.”
“Oh, no, no,” Pops told him. He gestured to a small yellow wildflower. “Look at this little guy. Sometimes it’s hard to notice him when there are bigger flowers around him.”
“The big ones are pretty,” Peter said, glancing over at his line of sunflowers against the fence.
“Definitely,” Pops agreed. “They are. But these little guys are just as pretty down here. They don’t need to be bigger or take up more space…they just grow how they like, and it’s beautiful.”
Pops never just talked about nothing in this voice. He was intentional with his words, and they meant more than what they were on the surface. With a big but gentle finger, Pops caressed the yellow petal.
“This little guy reminds me of you.”
“Because it’s tiny?”
“Because it’s beautiful and grows where he needs, no matter what anyone else does around him.”
Peter hummed quietly. He didn’t think he was anything like that pretty flower, but he knew arguing with Pops was pointless.
The irritating weed near it was more like him— needy for what the other flowers had, desperate to take from them to make himself feel better. That was how it felt to wish Harley hadn’t left and stayed by his side forever.
Suddenly, Peter reached forward and ripped the weed from the soil. He threw it over his shoulder.
“You didn’t like him,” Pops noticed.
“No one likes weeds,” Peter replied, looking for any other trespassers.
There was a moment of quiet before Pops asked, “Can I join you?”
Peter shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t feel like talking anymore. He was waiting for someone to pluck him out of this garden and throw him away.
Pops reached for the cushion and pulled it in close. He took a gentle seat next to Peter and didn’t move to do any work at first. He just watched Peter even the soil where he pulled out some weeds. The silence was pointed, and Peter knew Pops was waiting for the moment to say whatever he was thinking.
Waiting for the heavy was even worse than the conversation would be. Peter’s anxious mind made up the worst scenarios, despite the antidepressant flowing through him right now.
“What?” Peter cracked, turning to face Pops.
“Nothing,” Pops said, sounding genuinely confused. “I’m just here to sit with you. Offer some hydration.”
“Why?” Peter asked before he could stop himself.
Surprisingly, Pops didn’t lecture him about positive thoughts about himself. Instead, he admitted, “I miss Harley.”
Straightening his shoulders, Peter didn’t expect that from Pops. He thought it was going to be some speech about him. “Really?”
“Of course. It’s gonna be hard without having him here all the time.”
Peter nodded, the sadness settling around them. He leaned his head on Pops’ shoulder and let his eyes drift shut. “I miss him too.”
“We should find a day when all of us are free, once a week, to video chat.”
That was a great idea! Why hadn’t Peter thought of it? Probably because his brain wouldn’t allow him to imagine there was a universe where a rising star like Harley would want to spend his time talking to his dorky little brother.
“I bet he misses you, too.”
Peter doubted that, but he didn’t share that thought. Pops wouldn’t believe him anyway. So, he sat there like a needy weed, soaking up as much warmth from Pops as he could because he couldn’t get it on his own.
“You’re cool. You’re awesome, Peter. Everyone at school loves you and cannot wait to be your friend.” Peter stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and thought maybe if he tried one more time with a little more enthusiasm, he’d believe it this time. “People want to be around you. They flock to your side and enjoy your company.” He grinned a little for extra effort, but his words still fell flat.
Dad had bought him a book about the importance of affirmations and believing in yourself so much that it eventually came true. He claimed that was what got him the man of his dreams and their happy family. Peter wanted to believe it was true for him, too, especially after he had his braces taken off last month. But he was starting to think it was a long shot for someone like him.
It was hard to be surrounded by people who had it all together: Dad loved owning his own auto shop; Pops had a full schedule in his studio; Harley’s music career had started to soar; Michelle was as cool as ever; and Lila was friends with everyone she ever met.
In the middle of all that, there was Peter— the boy with the nerdy science shirts, stubborn acne, and zero social skills. Honestly, a trash can could probably hold a better conversation than he could.
Peter deflated from the previous stance he held, dripping with false confidence. If only being positive and liking yourself were as easy as being negative and disliking yourself. With hunched shoulders and a glare, Peter pointed at the stupid kid staring back at him.
“You suck.”
One of Peter’s curls fell to his forehead limply, so he blew air upwards to move it away, only to uncover the red blemish he had been picking at only moments ago. His dads kept telling him that the more he picked at his pimples, the longer they stayed, but Peter couldn’t help it. Already, there was another pore right next to it that looked clogged and full of more of Peter’s negativity.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of it all.
Peter groaned angrily, not wanting to stare at his dumb face anymore. He flicked the light switch and pushed open the bathroom door with a little more force than was necessary. He could change his name, maybe. Maybe it was the name that carried this despair throughout his life. Literally from day one, Peter could not get a break.
Born addicted to his mom’s sins, shoved into group homes, Skip, his own mother not wanting him, this giant fucking zit.
Didn’t the universe ever get tired of the shit it put him through—?
A sharp pain shot up his leg from his pinky toe, sending fire throughout his entire body. He had jammed his toe against the pantry doorframe, and he was probably going to need it cut off. He fell against the kitchen counter with a dramatic shout. “Stupid shitty door!”
“Woah, what did that door ever do to you?” Pops asked with a chuckle, and that only made Peter angrier.
“I’m not going to this stupid thing.” Peter yanked open the fridge door and was thankful that there was enough milk for a bowl of cereal. “It’s summer, I don’t even know why they’re torturing us this early. We only have a few weeks left.”
“Oh, we woke up cranky this morning, huh?” Pops poured himself a cup of coffee, followed by a few spoonfuls of sugar.
“I am not cranky,” Peter argued, slamming the fridge door shut. He heard the contents inside rattle, but thankfully, Pops didn’t tell him to be more careful. Whoever opened the fridge next would have to deal with the consequences.
“You don’t think so?” Pops only sounded bemused about this entire situation. “Then how would you describe your current mood?”
“Rightfully pissed off!”
“Oh, I see. Thank you for clarifying.”
Dad chose the perfect moment to walk in. Peter smelled his fresh aftershave and cologne, intensifying his yearning to be as cool as Tony Rogers-Stark. He went right to the coffee pot and poured his own cup into a travel mug— black, no sugar.
“Dad!” Peter exclaimed, hoping to get more sympathy from him. Although usually, it was Pops who catered to Peter’s every whim, so maybe Peter was out of luck this morning.
“Peter!”
Explaining emotions was hard. He didn’t even know where to start— high school, pimples, the end of the summer party Lila was insisting he go to, his solo in next month’s recital— there was a very long list of issues Peter could choose from.
But he decided on the biggest offender.
“Pops doesn’t even care that I almost died!”
“Woah,” Pops started, failing to stifle his laughter. “This is not true, Tony.”
Dad took a sip of his coffee, eyes slowly moving from Pops and back to Peter. “Uh huh,” he said after he swallowed his mouthful. “Were you choking on a fruit snack again?”
Of course, he had to bring up that incident.
“Dad, that was, like, four months ago!” Peter huffed. His parents didn’t understand. They were too old and only worried about things like mortgages, dentures, and how much space they had left on the DVR.
“Yeah, Tony. Four months ago.”
Peter shot a harsh glare at Pops. He deserved it. “No! That pantry—” He pointed a finger at it. “—tried to murder me!”
“Is that so?” Dad sounded less worried than Pops had been!
“That is true,” Pops reported. “But his claim that I didn’t care is utterly false. I cared deeply. I had an entire vigil planned and everything.”
“See!” Peter knew he was pouting and acting like a child, but he was allowed to! It was just him and his dads, and he was scared. Peter fell into a seat at the counter, letting the anger drain from his body immediately.
Pops’ hand was on his back within the moment.
“I’m not going,” Peter muttered, glaring at the floor. “It’s not mandatory.”
“No,” Dad agreed. “It’s not. But the anxiety you’re feeling now isn’t going to disappear by ignoring it.”
Peter stuck out his lower lip, resting his chin on his arm. He didn’t want logic. He just wanted to ignore it all and bury it in a really, really deep hole.
“Dad’s right, bud,” Pops said, seemingly reading his mind. “If we don’t go tour the school today, then on the first day of school, you’ll be feeling all of this all over again. With no chance to explore.”
“I don’t wanna go,” Peter settled on. He was going to continue refusing until Pops gave in. He pulled out his best puppy eyes. “Please, Papa. Don’t make me go.”
“Aw, kiddo,” Pops said, rubbing his hand down Peter’s back. “I wish this were one of those times I could give you exactly what you want. But it’s my job to make a decision that’s best for you. Even if you might not like it.”
“Wow. I’m proud of you, babe. I really thought I was going to have to veto your decision.” Tony smiled as if this was a time that smiles could be spared.
“You both suck.”
“At times. But right now, our baby needs us, so that’s gonna have to take a backseat.” Dad put a bowl in front of Peter for the cereal and milk he already had out.
Peter wasn’t hungry anymore, so he didn’t make a move to pour anything into it.
“You and Pops still have time before you need to go. Tell us what’s got you so worried.”
“Nothing.”
Dad poured a glass of orange juice, dropped a straw in the cup, and placed it in front of him. Peter glared at the cup, knowing what was coming next. Sure enough, a second later, Dad was putting a little pill in front of him, next to the juice.
Peter stared at the small pill. How could such a tiny pill fix such huge problems?
“This might help you a little bit.”
Anti-depressants. He needed them because he was so broken. Peter pushed the pill around the counter.
He had started taking them last year after he had confided all of his feelings to his dads— numbness, worry, fear, depression. This was his fourth try of a pill— the first created the most vivid, creepiest nightmares (usually not even about his usual trauma); the second did nothing; the third was done by day two, when suicidal thoughts came creeping their way into his everyday thoughts with a tenacity he had never experienced before.
Now he was on lucky number four. This one seemed fine so far. The doctor had warned that they cause more weight gain than the others, but that would only do well for Peter’s tiny size.
Truthfully, as long as it was better than his last pill, he would give it a fighting chance. Switching and tapering off one med to go on a new one was never easy or fun. It was sometimes frustrating enough to want to quit the process entirely. Not that Dad or Pops would let that happen.
Dad waited patiently for him to take a mouthful of juice, press the pill between his lips, and swallow, before questioning him again. "So, do you want to tell us what's going on here, kid?" Dad asked, cutting to the chase in a way that Pops never did.
“Do I even have to tell you why?” Peter huffed.
“I know it hasn’t been too long since we went in the ring for a round with teenage hormones, thanks to your brother, but I gotta say I’m feeling lost here, Pete.” Dad came closer, softening his voice.
Despite his grace, Peter groaned. Loudly. Then he pointed to the disaster on his face.
“What?” Dad seemed confused. “Oh, that? All this over a little pimple?”
“Little? It’s bigger than the Hercules-Corona Borealis.”
“I’m guessing that’s something…big?” Pops cut in.
Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s a supercluster of galaxies.”
“Right,” Pops said, clearing his throat. “Well, they must be really tiny galaxies because I can’t see them. At all.”
Peter’s hand started to drift to where he knew the intruder was. The bump felt more intense every time he touched it. Except this time, Pops stopped him from touching it. “You’re just getting more dirt in your pores. You’re not supposed to touch your face so much.”
“I can’t help it!” Peter whined. “How am I supposed to walk into high school looking like this?”
“Every kid gets pimples, Pete. It’s part of the high school experience.”
Strangely enough, that made him feel a little bit better because so much of his life was anything but normal. There was so much in his past that normal kids only heard about on their true crime documentaries. Having something in common with regular kids for once was nice.
“Really?” Peter asked quietly.
Pops perked up, as if he had guessed the winning lotto tickets. Though maybe that’s what placating a hormonal teenager felt like. “Oh, sure. You’ll eventually grow out of it, and if not, we can take you to the dermatologist.”
Pops and Dad always did so much for him and Harley. Ever since they adopted them, they’ve lived to make their lives better. They gave up time, money, and patience to raise Peter and Harley, without ever looking for a thank you.
It wasn’t fair to take out his anger on his dads, who had done nothing wrong. They just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sighing heavily, Peter apologized, “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize to us, but thank you, Pete.” Dad ruffled his hair with a smile. Pops nodded his head in agreement. “Now go finish getting ready for your pops so you two aren't late.”
Peter still didn't want to go to this stupid high school tour, but he knew his parents were right, so with another dramatic and heavy sigh, he continued his morning routine. Appetite long lost, he abandoned breakfast and started towards the bathroom to brush his teeth and get some control over his mop of curls.
On the way out the door, he heard Steve whisper to Tony, "Thanks for the back-up." Peter felt his shoulders deflate. Lately, all he felt like was an extra chore.
The only good thing about the tour was that afterward, they went out to lunch with Lila, Michelle, Aunt Laura, and Aunt Nat.
They were all crammed at the largest table in their favorite diner in town. Peter sat quietly, poking his pool of ketchup with a cold fry, while Lila went on and on about the excitement of their upcoming freshman year.
Thankfully, Michelle was much more subdued and rolled her eyes at Lila's latest squeal. "Chill out, dude. This isn't Coachella."
"Come on, Michelle, you have to be at least a little bit excited. The three of us even share a few classes." Lila's bright gaze turned to him. "Right, Pete?" Suddenly, the table’s attention was on him and his uneaten lunch. Peter already knew that Steve was eyeing him, and he really didn't want more fuel to the fire. "Yeah, I guess it's going to be cool."
Peter couldn’t miss how Steve’s worried gaze drifted from his face to his plate—and back again.
He looked away before they could exchange a glance. Instead, he focused his attention on the worn paper map lying on the table next to his plate, with his upcoming schedule printed on the other side. Peter understood why Lila was excited. High school was basically created for people as cool as her. Even Michelle was cool in a quiet, mysterious way that excused her general lack of enthusiasm.
Then there was Peter, who had a feeling neither of these girls would have wanted anything to do with him if they weren't family. He wasn't quite sure where he fit in yet— not in high school and definitely not in the world. The only place that he felt like he truly belonged was at home with Dad, Pops, and Harley.
The thought had Peter leaning in closer to Steve's side. Steve smiled at him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
Aunt Laura stole the attention when she sighed happily, reminiscing. “It feels like just yesterday we were the ones running down those hallways.”
Lila's face lit up as she listened to her mom. From the stories told at family dinner and the photo albums, Peter guessed that Lila got most of her personality from her mom. Most likely, another Barton woman was going to be cheer captain again soon.
“Don’t bring me back to high school,” Aunt Nat groaned, and finally, Peter felt like someone understood him. He looked up, fry still in hand, and watched Aunt Nat mock a shiver. “That shit could not end soon enough.”
High school sucked for her? Peter had a hard time believing anything was bad for her. “Why not?” He seemed to surprise the others at the table with his quick question.
Aunt Nat’s expression remained casual as she replied, “Too many rules and tests, and it started way too early.”
Peter nodded his head. “Yeah…”
“It doesn’t last forever, though, kid,” she said. “Four years, and then it’s done.”
“I thought high school was supposed to be the best years of your life,” Peter muttered. That’s what he had always heard.
Any year after Steve and Tony adopted him and Harley had been Peter’s best years, but he had a feeling high school might unravel it all— starting with the thread that middle school had frayed.
“You’re not going to be the only kid that feels like an outcast,” Michelle joined the conversation, voice quiet and knowing. Sometimes she picked up things that even Lila missed. Lila was a great friend, but she didn’t share the same tragic childhood that Michelle and Peter, the two adopted kids, had. “I think everyone feels that at one point or another.”
Even Lila nodded.
Peter didn’t argue this. He knew she was probably right, even for the popular kids. But still, he held his tongue. Sometimes he felt like the amount of trauma his body held was more than the entire student body had endured combined.
He was broken— not like a pretty mosaic of tiles— a shattered glass bottle that was tossed over the rocky shore until it was scarred, dirty, and ruining everybody’s day at the beach.
Maybe he needed to ask the doctor to increase his dosage. Peter sighed heavily, shoving the cold, soggy fry in his mouth. It was entirely unpleasant, but Peter ignored it and continued to eat fry after fry until his plate was empty. Pops would be worried if he didn’t.
He was already staring at him as the rest of the family continued their happy conversation. But then again, it was Pops’— he would always be tuned in to every single one of Peter’s feelings, maybe even before Peter was.
Seeing this as a comfort, he leaned into Pops’ side and let his mind drop the heavy thoughts. Just for now.