May You Look Back Unflinching

and there is the dance; strength and weakness, confidence and desolation

A/N: Okay, so, a little warning before you start reading the story:

This fic is semi-Anti-Steve Rogers/Not Steve Rogers or Team Cap friendly. I watched a few clips from Civil War again and got salty 😅 I don't hate MCU Steve, he's just honestly not my favorite ever, but I don't think he would actually be as rude and inconsiderate as he is in this fanfic.

This story takes place in-between Spider-Man: Homecoming and Infinity War, about 6-7 months after Civil War. Tony still owns and lives in Stark Tower because I said so. The Rogue Avengers are staying in the Tower as well, because I needed the plot to work lmao

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this one-shot and as always, thank you so much for your support and love, it honestly really motivates me to continue to write! 🥰

Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

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"And when the abyss looks into you – and it will – may you look back unflinching."

- Neal Shusterman, Challenger Deep

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Peter isn't normally awake this early.

That doesn't stop his heart from racing, however, his hands balled up in tense fists in front of him and he shifts, the stale gym air doing nothing to ease the heat. The room around him is empty, the only sounds being his own labored breathing and the distant chirp of the early-morning birds.

He needs to do better.

Their last mission, he'd messed up, got too caught up in the glory of fighting with the Avengers and forgot to pay attention. The mistake had almost cost them their battle, and had almost cost Peter much, much more.

Luckily, he'd managed to dodge just in time. Tony had made sure of that, racing all the way across the battlefield to shoot the attacking monster full-force in the face, nearly getting caught in the alien's gaping jaws himself.

And it would've been Peter's fault.

The punching bag in front of him sways with the force of his swings and the teen reluctantly pulls back on his super strength, his head swimming. Outside the tall windows, the sun isn't even up yet, the far eastern skyline just a thin slice of pale blue through the distant highrise buildings.

"Go to the gym, buddy." Tony had said yesterday over breakfast, his warm hand reaching over and resting against Peter's own overtop the boy's jerking fork.

Peter hadn't even realized he was shaking until his father-figure frowned. "You're anxious. You need to move around, let out some steam, prepare more. There isn't anything wrong with practicing, kiddo. After that last stunt, well, I think you'll feel a lot better, May will feel a lot better -- and stop pestering me in the group chat -- and I'll definitely feel a lot better."

Peter had swallowed, feeling the same guilt that had eaten away at his insides since the mission flared up full-force and the teenager reluctantly pulled away.

"Yeah, the-the gym, I'll do that tomorrow."

Tony probably didn't mean for him to go this early in the morning, but Peter needed too.

Shifting on his feet, the spiderling reaches up, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand. He takes a second to fiddle with the soft strap of his vital watch, a special gift from Tony the day the billionaire had accepted joint-custody with May of him, the metal face cool against his overheating skin.