Work Text:
Peter sat on the roof, considering.
He had always been alone, the feeling wasn’t foreign to him. He had been left alone when his parents had died, leaving him with his aunt and uncle who had never wanted kids and didn’t know how to deal with suddenly having one.
Not that May and Ben hadn’t tried their best, there was just things that a six year old needed that they couldn’t provide, things he asked that they didn’t know the answers to.
So he learned by himself, he got a library card, he found websites online that let him read textbooks for free, he managed.
Ben helped him, he asked his friends for leftover books or notes from their kids, he drove him to the library whenever he could and taught him how to defend himself in the streets for when he couldn’t.
Ben was the one he grew closer too first, he couldn’t explain why, though May always wrote it off as them both being boys, (“Men!” A younger Peter used to always correct her. “Of course,” She would reply with a smile, “Men”)
Peter was left alone once more when Ben died.
He wasn’t actually alone, of course. He had May, but he didn’t really have May.
May grew…distant when Ben died. Peter did too, he supposed, but he would’ve preferred hugs and comforting words over nights alone in his room, drowning in hurt and grief.
This was when the thoughts first arrived. The ‘You should’ve died instead’, and ‘You should just shoot yourself, die the way you should’ve died’ thoughts.
So, yeah. Hugs would’ve been preferable.
May had gotten better, she still had her bad days, it would be remarkable if she didn’t, but now when he came home annoyed about Flash, he got the hug he had so desperately craved all those months ago
(He never informed May of his thoughts, of the longing daydreams he had of shooting himself in the head and watching from above as his blood pooled into the ground, or swallowing a whole bottle of pills and letting himself drift off to sleep…)
Peter told no one when he became Spider-man. He didn’t feel the need to, he was saving people. His life finally meant something, (And if he fantasied about his web-shooters failing mid swing and letting him fall to the ground, nobody had to know)
So it was strange to him when Tony Stark barged into his life and began to monitor his every move. Maybe that was why he minded so much, he had grown so used to fending for himself that someone going out of their way to take care of him felt abnormal, it felt like something he hadn’t felt since he was six, since May and Ben had disrupted their own lives to take him in.
Peter didn’t fully understand the way he was feeling. He was both completely and utterly alone and smothered at the same time. May had grown used to him fending for himself as much as he did, so he was left to himself most of the time.
Tony was different, he viewed Peter through these childlike glasses, treating him as if he didn’t know how to function without being coddled.
Flash had never left him alone, despite his trauma being a well known fact throughout the school. This seemed to only spur the bully on, making taunts about his uncle (Though there was a strange moment when he had first come back to school, when Flash had come up to him, opened his mouth, then walked away quickly. It was never brought up)
Peter…Peter had no escape. He couldn’t relax at home, surrounded by memories of Ben and why couldn’t you save Ben? On bad days he got the occasional leave me alone, Skip, please-
School stressed him out, even without Flash, it stressed him so much so that he often threw up before the first class. But he had no choice, he needed an education, no matter how smart he was.
Peter was tired, he wanted to be done. He wanted to rest.
That’s what brought him here, to the roof of a building, about to commit suicide.
He- he didn’t know what to do. He knew that people wouldn’t want him to do this. He knew that there were people that loved him, that people would miss him if he died, he knew that shit. But Peter had been selfless his entire life, it would be ironic if his last act was selfish.
Something screamed for him to call someone, he had sat through enough psas in school to know that he should, but the psas didn’t cover how hard it was to just pick up the damn phone.
Besides, he didn’t have anyone to call. Tony was busy, he was always busy (Peter dying would clear up some of his schedule, it would make his life better) and May was tired, she didn’t need the added pressure of her nephew calling her from a rooftop (Yet another reason Peter should die, relieve her of the stress of school, food, bills…)
Peter sighed, closing his eyes and letting his body drift forward.
Call someone, Peter
Peter’s eyes fluttered open, he turned around, scanning the roof. Nobody was there, so who…
Please
Peter grabbed onto the railings cautiously, looking around for some sign of life. That was when it hit him that he was imagining it, of course nobody cared enough to stop him, he would be better off dead. He should just-
Peter!
Peter grabbed his phone out of his pocket quickly and opened his contacts, then he paused. Who was he supposed to call? He didn’t want to bother anyone, he couldn’t bother anyone. Nobody would get it, they’d think he was crazy. They’d take away the suit, they-
A memory hit him without warning, a memory of Tony speaking kindly to him before meeting the Avengers, warning him what and what not to say. ‘Bruce…Bruce tried to commit suicide. So try not to make any jokes about that or- no I know you wouldn’t I just wanted to put it out there’
Bruce Banner. Dr Bruce Banner. Peter had looked up to him for his entire life, he had studied every piece of research he had written and had practically devoured every news article written about the man. Peter had practically stopped breathing when he had gotten the man’s phone number- the phone number he was staring at right now, finger hovering over the call button.
Would Bruce care? Sure they had bonded over science and many other things, and Peter had grown past the hero worship phase and now thought of the man as a friend, but did Bruce feel the same? Would he even pick up the phone if Peter called?
Well, only one way to find out.
He hit call.
“Hey!” Bruce greeted cheerfully as he answered the phone. Peter sighed tearfully, almost choking on the sobs he was fighting to hold back.
“Peter?” Bruce’s voice had grown concerned now, and Peter could hear him straighten up in his chair.
“Bruce-“ Peter whispered, voice cutting off without his consent. “Bruce I need you”
“Okay, that’s okay Peter. Where are you? Are you hurt?”
“I’m on a roof”
Silence
“You- why are you on a roof?” Bruce’s voice was serious now, more serious than Peter had ever heard him. There was a tone of resignation in his voice, as if he already knew the answer but didn’t want the conformation.
“I’m gonna kill myself” Peter stared blankly, voice devoid of all emotion. Bruce let out a shaky breath on the other side of the phone, and if Peter had strained his ears he would’ve heard him ordering FRIDAY to track him.
“Pete you- I’m on my way, okay? Don’t you dare move”
Peter closed his eyes “Bruce…”
“I know” Bruce’s voice broke dangerously “I know, Pete but just hang on, I’ll be right there”
“I can’t do this anymore”
Bruce’s voice hardened, “Yes. Yes you can. Peter I’ll be there in five minutes just please- please don’t move. Okay?”
Peter hesitated, but eventually it was the desperation in Bruce’s voice that won him over (However begrudgingly) “…Okay,”
Bruce audibly relaxed, and Peter wondered vaguely how he was getting to the roof, or how long it would take for him to climb all those stairs.
He shouldn’t have called Bruce, he should’ve just jumped off the fucking building. He was so close and now he couldn’t, now Bruce would tell Tony, who would go overboard with protocols and yell at him and he would tell May who would panic and disappear again and cry. Peter couldn’t do it. She couldn’t live to see him destroy the lives of those he cared about. He could only hope that hearing Peter kill himself over the phone wouldn’t scar Bruce too much.
He took his hands off the railing and let his foot raise to take a step forward-
“What’s your favourite colour, Pete?” Bruce asked him suddenly. His foot snapped back to its place in his surprise. He knew what Bruce was doing, obviously, but he could play along.
“Purple”
Bruce huffed a laugh “Me too actually, it’s a nice colour, huh?”
Peter sniffed, a small smile playing on his lips “Yeah it is, ‘ts a good mix”
“Yeah, yeah exactly” Bruce’s soft smile carried through to his voice, giving it a kind, comforting tone “Any other colours?”
Peter thought for a second, not even noticing his hand falling to the railing once more and gripping it tightly.
“I like green. It’s- it’s like…nature” He stumbled over his words clumsily, bringing a hand to his mouth so he could gnaw on his nail
“Well I dislike green for a vastly different reason, but I see where you’re coming from,” Peter laughed softly “Any other colours?”
“Any other questions?” Peter remarked dryly, the smile from before staying on his face even as he felt his body lean forward over the busy street. Seeing as it was 4:30am, he supposed the city that never sleeps was an accurate statement.
As Bruce chuckled, Peter asked, “How come you weren’t asleep?”
“Lab binge” Bruce answered, immediately quenching Peter’s concern “It’s alright, Pete, okay? I’m almost there”
“Mkay”
“I’m serious, I’m gonna be there soon just hold on”
Peter became aware of his hands gripping onto the bar behind him and dropped them immediately. He still had time, he could still jump. He could-
“Peter” Bruce’s voice appeared behind him, broken and scared. Peter hated making people scared.
“Bruce” Peter acknowledged in a murmur, his voice was gritty and rough, evidence that he had been crying.
“Peter please just-“
“I can’t do this anymore, Bruce”
Bruce let out a noice akin to a whimper “You can-“
“I’m tired, Bruce, I’m done” He turned his head to see how far the scientist was from him. He was standing rather close, a hand outstretched as if that would catch him if he fell.
“You know the worst stories have sad endings?”
“Lord of The Rings” Peter countered, arguing for the sake of it. Bruce chuckled, and stepped closer. Peter bit back the urge to push him away as he swung his legs over the railing and sat atop of it.
“Be careful” Peter warned him carefully, his own hand extending without his will. What? He was the one who was supposed to die here, not Bruce.
Bruce raised his eyebrows slightly, but tightened his grip on the bar anyways. Peter felt a fraction of the tension leave his shoulders.
“Talk to me” Bruce pleaded, his hand raised and inched towards Peter’s shoulder, but he quickly lowered it when Peter flinched away.
“I just- I don’t-“ He groaned, and went to cross his arms when his foot slipped. Bruce bolted forward and grabbed under his arms at the same time as Peter grabbed onto the ledge with his arms.
Peter looked down at the city below him, feeling the wind push at him from all sides.
Distantly, he heard Bruce call out for him, yell at him to push himself up.
A bird swooped down along side him, falling and rising and falling and- oh shit
Peter scrambled to get a better grip on the ledge and began to push himself up shakily. Bruce tugged him as much as he could, but much of the heavy lifting was left to Peter.
“Oh fuck” Peter whispered once his feet were firmly planted on the ledge again. He looked down at the scene below him, feeling the blood drain from his face “That’s far”
“Peter please get off the fucking roof” Bruce pleaded desperately, now gripping the younger boys elbow tightly. Peter nodded distantly, swaying on his feet.
Bruce sighed in relief and hopped across first, holding out his hand for Peter to take.
Peter hesitated.
Everything would be different now. Bruce would know. People would know- nobody had ever known before.
“Please”
Peter met Bruce’s tear filled eyes and nodded. He took his hand and jumped clumsily across the railing. Bruce pulled him into a hug at once, a surprising action, but certainly not an unwelcome one.
“I’m- I didn’t- please-“
“It’ll be okay” Bruce murmured reassuringly, swaying them back and forth slowly with his hand cradling the back of Peter’s head.
Peter revelled in the warmth, both from the body heat and from the thought of somebody cares!! Somebody fucking cares, Peter!
“I’m sorry” He whispered meekly, burying his head in Bruce’s neck
“It’s okay…It’s all okay now” Bruce pulled back and put his hand around Peter’s chin, tilting it up.
“Thank you, for calling me”
Peter sniffed “Thank you for coming”
Bruce nodded with a pained smile “C’mon-“
“Don’t tell Tony” Peter planted his feet into the ground, stopping Bruce from towing him along beside him. Bruce stopped and stood back beside Peter, tucking an arm around his shoulders.
“Peter…”
“I promise you I’ll tell him” Peter pleaded, grasping onto Bruce’s sleeve and holding on tight. Bruce put a hand over his and rubbed his thumb back and forth soothingly, it slowed Peter’s breathing slightly “I will, I just-“
“Okay” Bruce said simply, the small display of trust warming Peter’s heart and calming him more.
“I have an apartment nearby” Bruce moved his arm back around Peter’s shoulders and guided him forward. This time, Peter followed, though not without stumbling “We can go there for the night”
“Why d’you have an apartment?” Peter asked tiredly, because of course, with the crash of adrenaline came the exhaustion
Bruce smiled down at him fondly, pushing open the door to the steps. “Well I can’t stay at the tower all the time”
“I would” Peter yawned, stretching his back as they treckend down the stairs. Put your mask on, a part of his mind reminded him, though he was too tired to acknowledge it.
“And that’s on hero worship” Bruce chuckled. He looked Peter up and down once they got to the front door, examining the Spider-man suit stuck to his body.
“We should get you out of that” He mumbled under his breath, taking off his own coat and wrapping it around Peter. Peter grabbed the ends and wrapped it tighter around him, relishing in the warmth it brought.
He tugged Peter along to his car, opening the door when Peter’s mind failed to realise that was what he was supposed to do. Bruce didn’t judge him for his lack of awareness, and Peter wondered if Bruce had felt this way after he had tried, or if he had anyone there for him.
They pulled up outside of an apartment block within 5 minutes of leaving, and Bruce jogged over to the keypad and pressed a button. Him and (presumably) the owner of the building spoke back and forth for a few moments while Peter curled up against the car door, coat wrapped around him like a blanket.
“Pete” Bruce appeared in front of him suddenly, a concerned look on his face.
“I’m fine” Peter said as he walked towards the now open door. Bruce followed behind slowly, but his disagreement was clear.
Peter had to let Bruce take the lead, seeing as he had no idea which apartment it was, and Bruce seemed oddly smug about it.
“Welcome home” Bruce remarked dryly, dropping his keys on the table beside the door as he walked in. Peter followed close behind him, taking in his surroundings.
Bruce’s apartment was…almost exactly as he would’ve imagined it. There was a soft, beige rug on the floor and the entire room was littered with plants and old books. It felt like home, despite Peter never having set foot in the place before
“Thought you didn’t like green”
Bruce smiled and looked around at his plants “Plants don’t count”
“Oh no?” Peter smiled slightly, rubbing the leaves of one of the flowers on display. Bruce disappeared into another room, but still held the conversation
“Plants are the definition of innocent, I think it’s okay”
“I don’t know” Peter picked up one of the books on the coffee table and spun it, reading the blurb “Fly traps are pretty scary”
“Well we’re not flies”
“Well- no but still” Peter hated the way his voice grew whiny, even as a joke. Bruce was grinning as he walked back into the room, clothes in hand. He tossed them to Peter
“There’s a bathroom in there” He jerked his head to a room to his left, and Peter entered obediently.
He slipped on the hoodie and sweatpants. They were soft, comfortable, way better than the skintight spandex he had been in.
You don’t deserve that
Peter sighed, and dropped to the ground. If he was being honest, he was surprised Bruce had trusted him enough to leave him alone in a bathroom where if he tried he could probably find a way to kill himself. Not that he was upset he wasn’t on suicide watch, he just…kind of was?
He doesn’t care
“Peter?”
Hah! He does care, fuck you voice!
“Yeah?” Peter called back, voice shaking. He got to his feet shakily and opened the door. Bruce was standing there, two mugs of…something in his hands. He looked worried, but his gaze grew sympathetic as he spotted the tear tracks on Peter’s face. He set down the mugs then drew the boy into a hug.
Peter hugged him back at once, grasping tightly onto the back of his shirt. He almost didn’t get here, if he had listened to the thoughts he would be dead.
Peter wondered vaguely how long it would take for people to find out. How long it would take for people to realise that oh, Spider-man hadn’t gotten up this time. How long it would take for it to reach the news, to reach Tony. He wondered how long it would take for someone to tell May
“Hey” Bruce squeezed him tighter “It’s okay”
Peter’s knees buckled, leaving Bruce to support his weight and lower him slowly to the floor. Sobs forced their way out of his mouth, leaving him gasping for air and crying all at once. Bruce never left, he sat beside him, hugging him tightly, letting him get tears all over his shirt.
“I don’t-“
“It’s okay”
Peter breathed in deeply, tapping into his methods for panic attacks subconsciously. The physical touch from Bruce was surprisingly helpful, grounding him in a way that he had never had during panic attacks before.
Though, this wasn’t a panic attack. This was a breakdown.
“Don’t tell Tony” He gasped out, willing- praying for Bruce to agree. Instead the man stilled
“Peter I-“
“Please, I- I don’t wanna bother him”
Bruce frowned “I’m pretty sure he would be more bothered if he found out on his own. Your suit has monitors in it, right?”
Peter froze, all attempts to breathe forgotten. Bruce noticed his panic and rushed to backtrack
“I’m just saying it would be better if he heard it from you-“
“I don’t wanna tell him”
Bruce said nothing for a moment, considering his options. After a while, he sighed and resumed to rub Peter’s back. “I can tell him, if you want”
Peter nodded, he didn’t know what had changed his mind about Bruce telling the man. It just seemed easier than having to say that he- that he…
Deep breath in, hold for five, deep breath out…
Bruce stayed with him for what felt like hours, before leading him to a couch and handing him the mug he had previously been holding. Hot chocolate, Peter realised with a slight smile. Coffee would’ve made him worse anyway and he didn’t care for tea, so it was probably for the best. Plus hot chocolate tasted good.
Peter tried not to think about it when Bruce left the room, dialling a number on his phone. He tried not to think about it when he heard Tony answer. He tried not to think about it when Bruce came back in and sat beside him, telling him gently that Tony was on his way.
He had to think about it when the door flew open and a disheveled Tony Stark appeared.
Peter stood up cautiously, placing down his half empty mug. “Tony…”
He was enveloped in a hug before he could think of what to say. Peter hesitated before hugging back. It was different to Bruce’s hug. Tony’s hug was more powerful, more desperate, while Bruce’s was slow and comforting.
Peter blinked away his tears as Tony pulled back, holding Peter’s face in his hands.
“Oh kiddo…”
Peter’s eyes watered dangerously, and he threw himself back into the hug
“It’ll be okay, kid. I’ve got you”
And for the first time, Peter didn’t feel alone