Wolf Spider

Shaking

-Peter's P.O.V-

He was shaking. Peter was shaking- holy shit he was actually shaking. He hadn't shaken from an over abundance of emotions in years. He was always supposed to not show emotion in any form. A twitch of his fingers or his eye, perked up ears when he hears something, shifty eyes, and everything else that could give away what was happening behind the stony face he was always made to have. This included shaking.

He saw more than felt the Stark-Pad that had shown the video surveillance from the interrogation slip from his fingers and onto the thin blanket as his shaking got worse and his breath started to get out of control.

Those people were his parents? They were the people who had sold his to a goddamn Nazi Organization and studied on him for what? Fun? Curiosity? Amusement? They had hated him when they found out he was a mutant. They had beat him, starved him, and locked him in closets too small even for a four year old to fit in. They had hated him and yet-

And they studied him. Watched as he was torn open and experimented on like an animal. Watched as his wrists were cut open so HYDRA could get a look at webs, and heard his screams as he begged for them as he was dissected and punished for not being the perfect, little, obedient soldier. As he became less and less of a person and more and more of a machine. As he became less Peter and more Wolf Spider.

They had seen the attempts that he had taken to reach where Gwen and Harry had gone when he wanted to just go.

They saw and heard it all.

But they loved him. They said they loved him. Was that what love was? It couldn't be. If that was love Peter didn't want it. He didn't want it. He didn't want them. He didn't want this. He didn't want anything except to just close his eyes and sleep and if he never woke up who would even care-

"Peter, please look at me Bud," A comforting voice begs.

Peter looks up to see James looking at him with wide, frantic eyes. The older man's hands are hovering over Peter, but not touching him. Good. Peter doesn't know if he'd lash out or not. Because he was so fucking angry. He was betrayed and angry and embarrassed that he had thought his parents would be better.

"Peter you're going to be okay, I promise you are going to be okay," James says.

"How?" Peter gasps. The word sounds angry and desperate at the same time, and Peter feels even more angry that he snapped at James. When he continues, his voice sounds more... defeated, "How is anything going to be okay ever again?"

James' face fell slightly, sorrow and despair flooding his eyes as the man took in the pathetic sight Peter must have been. God he was such a fucking mess.

"Because they can't get to you anymore," James answered after taking a deep yet shaky breath. "They can't get to you anymore, Peter. They can't get to you."

Peter wanted to say something that showed he didn't mind what had just went down. That he could just shrug it off and continue getting better while giving another thought to his parents. But all that came out was, "They said that they love me."

Peter felt James tense, and watched as the older man took a deep breath to calm down. "Peter, listen to me, okay? You need to understand that what they did- what they felt? That wasn't love. That was never love."

Peter couldn't help but feel relief at the words. "Please don't let that be love," Peter heard himself say, "Please- I don't want it if it's like that."

James slowly put a hand on Peter's shoulder and squeezing lightly, "It isn't. That wasn't- that wasn't love, Pete. I promise you, what you went through wasn't out of love. Those people you watched? They were messed up."