Peter & Bucky Are Pals

Chapter 6

The Five Times Peter Got Help With Schoolwork and The One Time It Was Done For Him

Peter never usually panicked about tests or papers, but this time, he was the closest he'd ever been. He had a Spanish cumulative test, and yeah, he'd been paying attention, but maybe not enough attention do well. He sat on his desk chair, hunched over, his chest constricting. He went to stand up, suddenly realizing that he hadn't been getting quite enough oxygen when his vision darkened. He collapsed back in his chair, his anxiety spiking.

"You seem to be experiencing a panic response," JARVIS said. "Mr. Stark is in a meeting. Can I call Mrs. Potts for you?"

"No," Peter said, his breath hitching. "I'm fine."

"My apologies, Mr. Parker. That is not an option. I've notified Mrs. Potts."

Peter swore under his breath, gripping the edge of his desk. He was fine. He was being stupid. He didn't want to bother Pepper. Maybe if she couldn't find him, she'd leave? Peter got to his feet shakily and stumbled over to his bed. Breathe, dammit. He lifted his bedspread, shuddering at the dusty, dark space beneath the frame. He had no choice, he told himself. He dropped down and wiggled underneath, his breath coming sharply as he let go of the fabric, leaving himself in the near-complete dark. He didn't like it. Too small, too tight. The slats of his bed pressed against his shoulder, and his lungs burned with panic when he realized that he couldn't lift his head. Maybe this was a mistake- No. He couldn't bother Pepper. He was fine. Fine. Fine.

He heard the door to his room open and Pepper call his name. Her footsteps crossed his room, soft on the carpet and clacking against the bathroom tile. She said his name again, more worriedly.

"I can't find him, JARVIS."

"Mr. Parker is under the bed, Mrs. Potts."

"Under the..." Her footsteps drew closer, and light flooded Peter's eyes as she lifted the bedspread. Her face was scrunched with concern. "Peter, sweetheart. What are you doing under there?"

"I'm fine," Peter said hoarsely. Pepper shook her head.

"That's not doing you any good. Come on out."

Peter wanted to argue, but Pepper crouched down and held out her hand; he couldn't stop himself from taking it and gripping on like a child. Pepper helped him out from under the bed, and he let out a shaking breath. She dusted him off, sitting him down and studying his face.

"What were you doing down there, Pete?"

"Nothing," Peter said, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Peter."

"I didn't want to bother you," Peter whispered, twisting his shirt between his fingers. "I'm sorry."

"Peter, you could never bother me. You're like the son that Tony and I never had. I don't want to see you upset, but I'd much rather see you upset than see you trying to hide it, do you understand?"

Peter nodded.

"Now what's wrong?"

"It's stupid," Peter mumbled. "It's really stupid."