Subway Spider: Peter Parker Superfamily Story

Truth

Warnings: mentions of torture and abuse
Peter's POV
The group got back from getting Peter's own Nemo, thankfully without being recognized. They put the little tank by his bed and Peter had never smiled wider.

After installing the tank, the group went back to the living room to give Peter some alone time. He hated it, but they didn't know that.

The boy had been alone all of his life, and he didn't want to start again now.

He carefully opened his door and went down the hall before realizing he had completely forgotten how to get to the living room. Peter felt his breathing speed up. He could beat a genius at Monopoly, but he couldn't find a room? Idiot. The bad men were right, he was stupid.

"Mr Parker, it seems as if you are having a panic attack. Would you like me to call Mr Stark?"

The child flinched at the sound of the voice above his head, but he felt like he was suffocating. He needed help.

"Natasha," he gasped out, "call Natasha."

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe. Peter clawed at his throat but it didn't help. The bad men were right, he couldn't do anything.

Worthless

Stupid

A waste of oxygen

He didn't even notice when Natasha came sprinting down the hall. He didn't notice whenever she crouched in front of him. He only noticed once she started shaking his frail shoulders.

Peter watched, almost from a distance, as she grabbed his hand and placed it on her chest. She started breathing exaggeratedly, in through her nose and out from her mouth. Peter tried to copy her.

After a few minutes, his breathing was even. Choppy, but even. He thought he heard Nat sigh out of relief, but he wasn't sure.

She looked at the boy with soft eyes. "Are you ok, my little spider monkey?"

Peter nodded, rubbing the rogue tears from his eyes with his fists. Wordlessly, the assassin stood up and grabbed Peter's hand, gently pulling him to his room.

They sat down on his bed and Nat set the boy's head in her lap. Running her fingers through his hair, she asked, "Why were you in the hall, Petey?"

"I didn't wanna be alone," he whispered back.

Nat softened even more at the child's reasoning. God, she was becoming such a mom.

She only nodded before continuing the soothing motions of her fingers. Natasha wanted him to be calm before she asked why he was having a severe panic attack.

A few minutes later, she decided to broach the topic with the adorable kid in her arms.

"Spider monkey, can you tell me what happened in the hallway?"

Peter's breath hitched. He didn't want to think about the bad men again, what they did to him. But she asked him a question. And for some reason, he trusted the red head.

So he could tell her, right?

"I got lost," he said quietly, as if saying it too loud would make the memories too real. "And I remembered how the bad men used to say I was stupid. That I wasn't as good as the other kids. I bet they wouldn't get lost."

Nat sucked in a deep breath. "Can you tell me what else the bad men would do?"

She didn't know if she wanted to hear the answer.

"They would use needles on me. Some of them hurt really bad. I would have...um, seeju- sej- seizures. They would put me in the freezer when I was bad. I was usually in there for a few days and they would use the whip to wake me up. If I hadn't been too bad they would give me a shot to wake me up. But I didn't want to do what they asked, so I was in the freezer a lot. The bad men wanted me to hurt people, but I didn't want to hurt them! But they made me!
I didn't want to, I didn't want to, I didn't want to..."
Peter cut off, mumbling the phrase under his breath over and over again.

The Black Widow, famed Red Room assassin, member of the Avengers, never cried.

But Natasha Romanoff did.

She cried for the little boy in her arms, for the pain he went through, for the guilt he would have to live with for the rest of his life.

She cried for the child who had seen too much, been through too much, done too much. Too much for him to get over.

She cried for Peter Parker, the kindest, smartest, greatest little boy she had ever met.

She cried for the child she thought of as her son.
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Sorry it took me so long to post this, I was working on drafts for my oneshot and wrong number books.

I don't need a degree to be a...
-spidey