Peter has to deal with the consequences of a superhero life, but can't understand why his family wants Spiderman

Okay, so maybe hacking FRIDAY wasn't as easy as he thought.

He nearly got himself caught five times by now, each time wanting to smack himself. So many firewalls, so many codes, and yet he kept slipping on the last step.

It was terribly frustrating, taking him few days off sleep, since there was a way smaller chance of anyone needing the AI in the middle of the night.

He connected the cable to his computer, again, and wanted to scream.

Access denied.

And again and again.

After a few days of intense studying, he managed the break the codes-thankfully,he didn't need to fully reprogram the damned thing. But the alarms had to be set competently off when he was in the lab in the middle of the night.

He knew the risks. If anything were to happen, a break in, it would be bad. But who would actually even try to break in the Avengers tower? It was basically like robbing a police station.

Yet, Peter couldn't help but feel a bit guilty every time he locked himself in the lab, hours on end. He agreed that spandex wasn't working out very well. Despite his fast healing, wow that's new, he needed something a little more up to the job.

But with the new suit and Karen, eveything seemed to be going on fine. Except it wasn't.

On the rare nights he did sleep, he usually woke up due to his nightmares. The feeling of all that weight on him. The sharp pain all over his muscles, sharp ends pushing in to his skin. The warm blood dripping down on the cold metal.

Drip. Drip.

The agony of knowing he was stuck.

Drip. Drip.

No one was coming. His dads weren't here. The Avengers weren't here. And they weren't coming.

Drip. Drip.

He would die down there. Alone, bleeding out. Or maybe he would run out of oxygen before it happened?

Drip. Drip.

He was so alone. Alone, completely alone. No one was here. Alone.

Drip. Drip.

"Help! Help, please, anyone! I-I'm stuck! I'm down here!" he screamed on top of his lungs.

Drip. Drip.

"HELP! PLEASE-" he was interrupted by heavy coughing, the dust in the air becoming too much.

Drip. Drip.

Blood came out of his throat, which probably meant internal bleeding. He was panicking. Running low on air. He didn't even think anymore, the pain was pushed somewhere else when he started moving left and right hysterically, shouting on top of his lungs.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Come on. Come on, Peter. Come on, Spiderman."

And then it was black. Or that's how he woke up. The part where he lifted the building with his bare hands never came.  Just the thought of diying down there.

***

"So, PTSD huh?"

Peter looked at the boy, his long, dirty blond hair was a total mess, much like the clothes he was wearing.

"No, no. Nononono I do NOT have PTSD!"

The boy nodded, leaning his head back on the wall. The view was nice up here. All the lights, the cars when he looked down from the rooftop to the bustling city beneath them. He couldn't get used to it. The lights. The people. Life.

"Keep telling that to yourself, buddy. I know someone with it when I see them."
The way he said it, Peter noticed, was emotionless. It was meant as a sarcastic, teasing comment, but it just wasn't. It felt empty. As much as everything the boy said did.

Peter bit his lip and looked him, empathy in his eyes.
"Did they do that too? I mean the scientists. Hydra. Did they..."

"Did they do tests on PTSD?" the boy looked up.
"Of course," he nodded.

"Oh. Right. Well I don't have it. I...I'm Spiderman," he quielty, but quickly said.

"You might be Spiderman, but you're also Peter. I think you're mixing the two up."

He smiled at the comment, looking to the side, down, to the city.
"Well, according to the authorities, Peter Rogers Stark is dead. Spiderman lives."

The boy sighed, looking at Peter with empathy, as he saw the boy's lips tremble, his voice catching in his throat.

"You think they are still looking for you?" he asked harshly. Well, that's how it sounded, it certainly wasn't how he meant it.

Peter shrugged.
"I don't know. I just know that now, they're not just looking, they're seeking revenge from Spiderman for taking their son."

***

There were days in his head when things just didn't work. He tried so hard to focus and it was like trying to run through water. His brain fogged up and thoughts got nowhere at all. Sometimes he thought it was natures anaesthesia, anything to numb the pain, to wipe out the trauma. Then there are the times of clarity, sudden moments when he could see every detail and feel every feeling. The trigger could be something like sports on TV, a turn,  a smell.

At the start hoped it was a process to wipe out the bad memories, to stop his reliving them to well meaning askers. Now, he knew it wasn't so simple. It provided some protection, but the price were the flashbacks and the times of confusion; the stronger the blocks became the more intense the flashbacks were. 

He felt Steve's eyes on him. He felt the familiar weight. Hw couldn't help but to start to feel anxious.

The man bit his lip as he approached Peter, his son, his everyhting. It was clear as today's sky that something wasn't right. And it semeed like that for some time now. He couldn't watch his child in pain. His own child. Even if the reason was something utterly stupid, he decided to make things right.

"Hey, Pete," he said carefully, placing his hand on his shoudler. A move Peter instantly flinched from.

Steve qucikly removed his hand, looking from it to Peter and back to his hand.

There could be no greater pain to a parent that their own child flinching away from them.

"Hey, Pops," he qucikly said, trying to make the situation less awkward, but Steve pulled a chair and sat at the table, next to the boy.

"Peter talk to me. What's wrong."

He fiddled with papers he had on the table, qucikly putting them in order. He sometimes liked doing homework in the kitchen, just so he could hear all the domestic sounds and feel less alone.

"Nothing. I was just doing my homework," he said, glancing at the papers.

"Yes, I see that," Steve said, looking around.

"But otherwise, I see you've been distracted lately. What's on your mind?"

Shit. This was not good. Peter himself was a terrible liar, and now that he was actually feeling bad everything seemed worse.

"It's nothing, Pops. Just a hard week at school, you know?"

Steve sighed, but nodded.
"Do you need some help with that?"

The boy smirked and looked up at the soldier.
"Quantum mechanics? Didn't know you had interest in that."

His father cleared his throat, before chuckling.

"Maybe your Dad or Bruce could help you?"

"Don't worry. I got it. After all, tomorrow is Friday, I'll probably study with Ned after school."

Steve nodded.

"Your friend is welcome to stay for the weekend if he wishes."

Peter smiled, writing a small note in his notebook, that was already filled with doodles. He seemed distracted, but in reality he was petrified. There was just too much pressure.

Spiderman has been doing great. By that meaning he had twice as much job like on the start. Situations became more intense, some groups, well a lot of them, have already targeted him as their threat. The simple muggings, like someone stealing bikes, became much less common.
Now there were guns, actual guns, real weapon involved, along side drugs, money, robberies, murderers even. Even if it might not seem like much for an Avenger, it did to him.

Because Spiderman wasn't an Avenger.

The person behind the mask was a 15-year old kid. Well, almost 15.

School has been getting tougher. The teacher mentioned it could be a possibility to get Peter in to collage early with his level of knowledge. He hasn't mentioned it to anyone yet (just Ned), but he somehow felt anxious about it. Tony would for sure be proud, his son following his footsteps. Steve wouldn't be against it. Why would he be?

***

Ned (1:23 AM): Dudeee! Quick question, why is everyone looking for Spiderman?

Peter (1:30): What do u mean?

Ned (1:32): Haven't u seen the news?

Peter (1:33): No, not rlly. What's going on??

Ned (1:44): Everyone is looking for you. Including the police. What did you fuck up??

Peter (1:45): Nothing! I was just friendly neighborhood Spiderman! Is it that "dead or alive" kind of stuff?

Ned (1:46): Dude no. Of course not. They said they just want to talk. But they can't be just do that for no reason! What. Did. You. Do.

Peter (1:50) Well maybe the Avengers wanted to talk to me but I escaped...

Ned (1:51): DUDE

Peter (1:52): I panicked I'm sorry!

Ned (1:53): Just go talk to them or something!!

Peter (1:54): I can't just TALK with them! They're gonna ask questions!

Ned (1:55): Yes, Peter, indeed that's how a conversation works!

Peter (1:56): You know what I mean!!

Ned (1:57): Just...idk. You have to do something before this gets out of hand!

Peter (1:58): Yeah dude, that ship is long gone.

Ned (1:59): Are you trying to make this worse?? If you don't talk to him, authorities might get involved, but not just asking you for a conversation!

Peter (2:00): What do you mean? I didn't do anything wrong!

Ned (2:01): Can you assume why they want to talk to you?

Peter (2:02): Umm...not really. Maybe cuz I rlly put a name for myself out there.

Ned (2:03): Yes EXACTLY!

Peter (2:04): Exactly?

Ned (2:05): You're an idiot.

Peter (2:06): Come on, Ned, helo me out with this one!

Ned (2:07): Look, not that I know exactly what's up with this, but you aren't really...normal.

Peter (2:08): Wow thanks bud.

Ned (2:09): You lift buildings, stop cars and fight villains in the middle of the night.

Peter (2:10): True

Ned (2:11): What I'm trying to say is, there is this crazy theory that Avengers, who are superheroes, want to talk to you, who is a superhero...

Peter (2:12): God I can hear your sarcasm.

Peter (2:13): But I guess your right on that. Still why would they attack me? Do they think I'm the villan? Or like a spy?

Ned (2:14): Not such a crazy idea. I mean you live with Winter Soldier and Black Widow...

Peter: (2:15): What is that supposed to mean??? Gtg there's a mugging happening a few blocks away.

Ned: (2:16): Good luck.