More than I bargained for. (Work In Progress)

Do they have to know?

— *TW; rape & abuse mentioned briefly* —

"Domestic violence, sexual assault, child molestation. Take your pick."

Fury's Pov.

My eye was a little wider than usual and my mouth was open just a little, an uncommon lack of cold gracing my face as I stared at him.

His words I supposed were supposed to be laced with a dripping snarkiness as a coping mechanism, but such things were lost to the shaking wracking his body and the bloodshot eyes that looked like they wouldn't be able to hold much of anything for long.

His breathing picking up he moved his gaze down to stare intently at the table under his arms.  He was trying his best to take deep breaths I could tell, and it was succeeding, kind of. He was hiccuping quietly and trying desperately to hide it.

All the while I stood there, I closed my mouth and swallowed, still attempting to process all of the information that had just been presented to me much too quickly. Before I could comprehend his words I could comprehend what I was looking at, he was young. He was so fucking young.

He had a some-what curly kind of chestnut-colored hair that looked like it hadn't been cut in a while and doe eyes, which were a darker shade of brown than his hair similar to dark chocolate. He had pale skin but there was a light dust of freckles just around his nose.

Then I understood the words. I repeated them over again in my head to make sure that they meant what I thought they meant. I had been wrong, so so very wrong. I probably couldn't have hit farther from the mark. Everything made more sense, I started to understand.

I recollected myself and after gaining my composure I could see that Spider-Man was trying his best to do the same, his arms crossed and leaning on top of the table. Whether he was staring at the table or at his hands, I wasn't sure. There were still a few tears dripping down his face from the near anxiety attack he had just experienced and they didn't seem to be slowing, but he had stopped hiccuping, stopped making any noise except the shakes breathing escaping his mouth actually. His eyes were still bloodshot and his body still shaking slightly. It wasn't cold.

"Alright then. I agree with your conditions, now it's your turn. Who are you?" I remained professional, not wanting to make this weird for either of us. I guessed he would prefer me not to comment on his previous word and make a big deal of it, I didn't know him and he didn't know me. I would not invade his personal life to the best of my ability. But I did still, however, need his identity.

"Peter Benjamin Parker. I was born on August tenth, 2001.  I'm fourteen, I turn fifteen in August. I attended Midtown Tech Highschool, I'm a sophomore as of next fall. My parents died when I was four, my uncle when I was nine, and my aunt when I was Thirteen,  about a year and a half ago. I lived in a group home for half a year, they knew and still know that I'm Spider-Man, but I don't think they're telling anyone. One year ago I was adopted. Now I live with.. with Steven Westcott."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, taking in the information at a pace that I could handle. The boy, Peter, didn't raise his head once. He just kept staring at the table, he was afraid to meet my eyes- what he feared he would see in them I didn't know, but I was trying my best to keep my emotions out of this.

"When did you start Spider-Man? And why, for that matter?" At this, the boy, Spider-Man, seemed to shift uncomfortably, before looking to the side and breathing out deeply.

"It's kind of, like, a long story..?" He seemed to be unsure about this and his eyes glanced over to me and met mine before Darting away very quickly.

"Trust me, I've got all night." I spoke sharply and matter-of-factly, not really in the mood for the whole "diverting questions" game.

At this statement, the boy took a breath and he held a pained expression. He didn't answer for a while, he seemed to be thinking very hard about something- probably the answer to my question. After several minutes of silence, I was very close to interrupting and asking the question again when he finally spoke up. Now he was looking down at his lap, he had also moved his hands there.