It Only Takes a Second

- XLVIII -

Harry looked around the room, love bubbling inside of him as he took in his surroundings. He was lying in the corner of the sectional sofa, with Peter curled up, head resting in Harry's lap. At his feet, Lucy was laying contently, losing a battle with sleep. 

Tony and Pepper were in the loveseat that was adjacent to the sectional sofa, with Pepper's head laying on Tony's shoulder, his arm wrapped around her, hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on her arm.

On the other side of the sectional, Steve was sitting on the couch, Bucky on the floor between his feet, while playing with his fiancé's long hair.

Bruce was seated, near Harry's feet. He had a notebook sitting beside him, and a book in hand, and evidently had no regard for the movie that was playing on the TV. Natasha was seated in the center of everyone on the floor, doing some stretches that made Harry's entire body ache, just to watch.

Above them, Clint was seated in his perch, and Harry couldn't help but smile as he realized that the archer had snagged Hedwig's cage and was now helping the bird with the preening of her feathers. He made a mental note to bake up some pumpkin bread- Hedwig's favorite special treat- and give a loaf to Clint to keep on hand.

Thor was perched on the edge of his seat, watching the TV intently as he awaited the next move of the characters in the action movie. Every time something remotely exciting happened, the god of thunder would jump up and make a loud cheering noise. At first, it had frightened Harry (which did not please Lucy) but now, he had learned to expect it, and the flinching was at a minimum. On Thor's other side, Loki was leaning back against the cushions, watching the movie and pretending not to be interest. But it was obvious that he was paying close attention and enjoying it.

Harry wouldn't trade it for the world.

With a yawn, Harry leaned his head against the couch cushion. He was so tired from the events of the past few days that he could barely keep his eyes open. Exhaustion was beginning to make his head pound with pain, the loud noises from the surround sound speakers making him wince.

As the sensory overload heightened, so did Harry's anxiety. Someone on screen threw a punch that was put along with an overly dramatic sound affect, and Harry's mind flashed back to nights when Vernon would beat him until he was unconscious. Thor's booming cheer made him flinch violently, instinctively curling away from the loud noise.

"Harry, you okay?" Peter asked softly, sitting up and gazing at his boyfriend, whose face was now buried in the cushion. The skin around his eyes was wrinkled, and his lips were taut. Peter could tell he was beginning to experience a sensory overload episode.

At their feet, Lucy rose and pressed her cool nose into Harry's clammy palm, grounding him.

"Friday, pause the movie for a moment," Peter ordered. This caused everyone to stop and turn towards where Harry had curled up into the tightest ball he could manage with his stiff joints.

"What is wrong with the young Maj?" Thor whispered loudly to Loki, who held up his hand as if to brush away his brother's ignorance.

"Hush, now. I will explain to you later," the god of mischief dismissed, sitting up straighter.

"Harry?" Pepper spoke softly, appearing at Harry's side. Her hands ached to find a way to the top of his head and carefully card through his messy hair, but she knew that the worst thing she could do was touch him more.

"I think he's just tired, and everything hit him all at once. Sometimes my sensory overload episodes are like that," Peter explained with a voice barely above a whisper. "I'm think I'm going to take him to bed."

"That's a good idea," Bruce nodded, "make sure he's comfortable and calmed down before leaving him alone. And if you need anything, come and find me and I'll help you."

Peter gave a small head nod in compliance. "

"Harry, we're going to go to bed," he slid one arm under Harry's shoulder's, the other behind his knees, and, as gently as possible, picked him up. Lucy stood, ready to follow whoever to wherever she was needed.

"I'll be back in a few to check on the two of you, after I give him some time to calm down a bit," Tony told Peter in a low voice.

Peter nodded once more, before carefully carrying Harry down the hall and to his bedroom. Once he had quietly shut the door with his foot, he made his way over to Harry's bed and gently placed Harry atop the sheets.

Harry let out a small whimper when Peter began to pull away, which made Peter's eyebrows furrow in confusion. He thought for sure that Harry wouldn't want to be touched if he was experiencing sensory overload- he never did.

"What do you need, love?" Peter asked, the word 'love' just... slipping out.

"Hold me," Harry murmured quietly. "Please."

"Okay," Peter agreed, sliding behind Harry and wrapping his arms him. Closing his eyes, he placed his chin against the top of Harry's head and inhaled the scent of his shampoo.

In Harry's lap, Lucy had found her way on to the bed and was practicing the pressure therapy technique she had learned during training. Harry's fingers carded through her long hair aimlessly as he relaxed into Peter's embrace.

Harry felt himself melt into Peter's arms the longer they were around him. He closed his eyes and let out a ragged sigh, breath catching as he exhaled.

"It just took me by surprise. I wasn't expecting it. The fighting in the movie, I mean. I didn't realize that it would set me off, but apparently I'm still learning a lot about what all 'sets me off,'" Harry murmured, breaking the comfortable silence that had been engulfing the room.

"You're not going to automatically get better overnight. PTSD isn't just something you can make go away completely after time- especially this quickly. Maybe later in life, it won't be as bad, but you will have also learned how to cope better. Trust me, Harry, things won't always be so difficult for you. And I hope- I pray- that I can help make things easier."

"Petey," Harry breathed, craning around to look Peter in the eyes. "You already do."

A bright smile spread across Peter's face, and his eyes crinkled around the edges. Harry was expecting to receive a kiss, but instead, what he received was much better.

Peter pulled Harry in closer to him, and nestled his face into the crook of Harry's neck, planting the softest kiss, and murmuring:

"I love you."

Based off of the lyrics to You Matter to Me from Waitress: "Dear Baby, I hope someday, somebody wants to hold you for 20 minutes straight. They don't pull away. They don't look at your face. And they don't try to kiss you. All they do, is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight without an ounce of selfishness to it. I hope you become addicted, baby. I hope you become addicted to saying things and having them matter to someone."

(A/N: I apologize that it's been so long since I've updated, and especially since this chapter is so short and kind of ends suddenly. I've been facing writers block as I try to figure out how to tie up this story, as well as, I am officially moved into my dorms as a college student. Things have been really crazy recently, and so I'm pretty exhausted and I'm trying to figure out how to balance out my schedule. Anyway, those are all excuses that you probably don't care about, so in short, sorry about this chapter. Hopefully I can make it up to you in upcoming chapters. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you're still enjoying! Stay safe and healthy everyone!)