The monster in the walls

Ruffled Feathers and Bad Feelings

Peter jolted upright with a scream, his thin body trembling. He took in several stuttering breaths that did nothing to help him regain his bearings. The hairs on his arms stood on end and his spider-sense continued to flare.

"Fri-Friday?" he squeaked, voice cracking.

"How may I help you, Peter." The AI's smooth feminine voice answered. "Shall I turn on the lights?"

Peter nodded frantically, choking out a "Yes please" as he pulled the duvet tighter around his boney shoulders.

The room gradually grew brighter until it was well-lit. Due to Peter's enhanced senses, FRIDAY kept the brightness level at fifty percent. Even with the room completely visible, and FRIDAY's calming presence which usually did wonders to ease the teen's mind, the young arachnid still felt tense. His spider-sense tingling at the base of his neck, warning him of some unforeseen danger.

Another tremor wracked his body, and he shivered despite the warm blankets surrounding him. He felt sick. On shaky legs, he carried himself to the bathroom; wings tucked tightly against his body. Logically, he knew his wings provided little warmth and protection, but the action was instinctual; developed from years of torture and abuse.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the harsh lighting which only aggravated the nausea curling within his stomach. His head spun, and his vision blurred. It took all his effort not to pass out or lose his dinner. The white granite countertop cracked under his grip, prompting him to hurriedly let go.

A drop of blood fell into the sink, splattering like crimson paint on a blank canvas. Peter looked at himself in the mirror. His face pale and gaunt, brown curls wild, and dark circles beneath his eyes. All of which was normal. What wasn't normal was the blood dripping from his left nostril. Hastily, he wiped his nose on his sleeve, leaving a red smear on the soft grey fabric.

"It was just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare. It's not here. It was only a nightmare." He repeated that over and over like a mantra. Desperately trying to convince himself of what he knew to be false. "I'm safe. They're dead. It's dead."

When his dad and the team rescued him from HYDRA, they destroyed the entire base and everything inside it. Blew it to smithereens until only ash and rubble remained of the once fortified facility. They demolished their fair share of HYDRA bases and knew exactly how to obliterate anything and everything they contained. Nothing could've survived that.

Unless it had escaped back into its own dimension.

They'd fought; he remembered. Not long before the Avengers came. But he was very weak at the time and only managed to get a few hits in. The creature only had one eye and had three missing fingers because of him. The claw marks on his chest and stomach ached at the memory.

A fresh wave of terror washed over him as unwanted memories pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind. Getting cut open and prodded by faceless doctors, being starved and beaten by cruel HYDRA agents. Being forced to interact with that horrid thing. Something that was even more monstrous than him.

Peter pushed himself away from the mirror and bolted out of his room. His spider-sense went quiet the farther away he got from his room, signifying that the threat was diminishing. His body moved on autopilot, and he ended up in his dad's room.

Quietly, he moved closer to the king-sized bed and crawled in between his biological and adoptive father. He snuggled in between the two heroes, his naturally thin body fitting perfectly.

Even in his sleep, Tony's one wing unfolded to cover Peter. He could see the ornate coloring of his dad's feathers that he loved. The weight was incredibly comforting to the thirteen-year-old. Steve murmured something in his sleep and rolled over, so he was closer to his husband and son. Their warmth and steady breathing helped lull peter back to sleep.