A Shoulder to Lean On
Arthur’s head was pounding. The adrenaline from his panic attack was still coursing through his veins, leaving his body weak and shaky. As he lay in the quiet room, the words from Bucky, Steve, and Tony still echoed in his ears, but a thick layer of shame covered everything.
He couldn’t believe it—he had fallen apart like that. In front of them, no less. The strong, silent soldier who had been trained to endure the worst of it… and here he was, breaking down on a medical bed, unable to control his own panic.
What is wrong with me?
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered. That voice in his head, the one that told him he wasn’t good enough. That he was still Death, still that broken thing HYDRA had created.
A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, but he didn’t have the energy to respond. He felt like crawling into himself and hiding from the world. But then, the door creaked open, and in walked none other than Peter Parker.
Arthur didn’t move, didn’t speak. His gaze stayed fixed on the wall across the room, and his breath remained shallow, uneven. But Peter wasn’t waiting for an invitation.
“Hey, Arti,” Peter said, his voice soft but steady. “How’re you feeling? Better?”
Arthur didn’t answer right away. He didn’t want to speak. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. But he couldn’t ignore Peter’s presence. He could never ignore the younger man—especially when Peter had this way of cutting through the awkwardness, the silence, the tension.
Arthur finally opened his mouth, his voice barely a whisper. “I… I’m fine. Just… tired.”
Peter, as always, didn’t seem to buy it. He moved closer, sitting at the edge of the bed with an easy familiarity. “You don’t look fine,” he said, his brow furrowed in concern. “You look like you just ran a marathon and hit a wall.”
Arthur half-smiled at the comparison, though the shame still made his heart heavy. He didn’t have the energy to explain. Instead, he sighed and let his eyes drift closed. “I’m just… embarrassed. I don’t know what came over me.”
Peter didn’t say anything for a moment. Arthur could feel him fidgeting next to him, probably trying to think of something comforting to say. But Peter always had this ability to say the right thing, even when he didn’t know it.
“Yeah, I get it,” Peter said after a long pause. “I mean, I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks too. But hey, everyone gets scared sometimes. And you know, you don’t have to be perfect all the time.”
Arthur’s chest tightened a little at the honesty in Peter’s voice. He turned his head, meeting Peter’s gaze for the first time since the episode. There was a light in Peter’s eyes, an understanding that Arthur wasn’t used to—no judgment, just a quiet, unspoken empathy.
“You’re not alone in this, Arti,” Peter added, his voice sincere. “I get it. You don’t have to hide it.”
Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He didn’t know how to thank Peter, or if he even deserved the comfort. The shame still clung to him like a shadow. But before he could dwell too much on it, something outside the room caught his attention—his heart suddenly skipped a beat.
He heard the unmistakable sound of frantic footsteps, hurried but hesitant, moving in their direction. The door burst open, and a familiar face appeared in the doorway.
It was Peter’s face, but not the one sitting beside him. This was the real Peter—the one who had come rushing to find him when things had gone wrong.
Authors Note:
That was part of Arti’s imagination/daydream
The younger man was pale, his eyes wide and glazed with panic. He looked like he was in full-blown distress, and Arthur’s protective instincts immediately kicked in.
“Peter?” Arthur asked, his voice shaky. “What happened?”
Peter didn’t answer immediately. His breathing was erratic, his hands trembling as he clutched the doorframe. “I—I don’t know,” he stammered. “I just… I couldn’t breathe for a second there. I thought I was gonna—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard, eyes wide as if he were struggling to keep himself from unraveling.
Arthur’s heart ached at the sight of the younger man looking so lost, so fragile. He hadn’t seen Peter like this before—this wasn’t the goofy, confident kid who cracked jokes and leapt into danger without hesitation. This was Peter, raw and vulnerable.
Arthur pushed himself upright in bed, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. His legs felt weak beneath him, but he didn’t care. Peter needed him.
“Hey,” Arthur said, his voice gentler now. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”
Peter’s gaze flickered between the two of them, his hands still shaking, and he took a step forward. “I—I don’t know what happened,” he said again, voice strained. “It was like—like everything just hit me all at once. Like the Vulture incident, and the fight, and—” He cut himself off, his chest rising and falling as though he were struggling to breathe.
Arthur’s heart clenched as he watched the younger man, the boy who had saved him in so many ways, fall apart in front of him. He was familiar with that feeling—the panic, the loss of control. It had become a constant companion in his own life.
Slowly, Arthur reached out and pulled Peter into a hug, surprising both of them. Peter’s body tensed for a second, as if unsure how to react, but then he collapsed against Arthur, shoulders shaking with the quiet tremors of anxiety.
“It’s okay,” Arthur whispered, his hand rubbing gently over Peter’s back. “You’re safe here. You’re not alone.”
Peter nodded against him, his breathing still erratic but slowly calming. Arthur felt the younger man’s chest rise and fall with his own, the shared rhythm a silent comfort. They stayed like that for a while—Arthur holding Peter, Peter drawing in shallow breaths. The weight of both their anxieties pressing in on them, but for that moment, it didn’t feel quite as heavy.
When Peter finally pulled back, his eyes were a little less frantic, though still clouded with unease. He met Arthur’s gaze, a faint smile breaking through the anxiety. “Thanks,” Peter said quietly. “I didn’t know who else to go to. But... you get it.”
Arthur gave him a soft smile in return, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I get it.”
Peter’s eyes lingered for a moment longer, before his expression softened, a quiet understanding passing between them. It wasn’t a perfect solution. There were no easy fixes, no magic words that could make it all go away. But for the first time in a long while, Arthur didn’t feel like he was facing the storm alone.
And that made all the difference.
To be continued…