i'm your biggest fan (i'll follow you until you love me)
Peter was not ashamed to say he did walk into the Avengers common room drunk. And high. But he was proud to say that he had managed to hold his own, even if they may have been able to smell it on him, to which he would’ve blamed it on Ximena.
Peter was ashamed, however, to say that in front of his idols he did keep checking his phone for any news around their neighbourhood. For the past few days, he had heard rumours at the Alibi that people had been seeing Mary walking around.
His heart had sunk, and his stomach had almost come out of his throat. He didn’t know what would bug him more: Mary showing up, or Mary not showing up. He didn’t give a fuck about her. She was always manic, or low, or high, or drunk.
Just like him, a taunting voice whispered in his ear. He shook it off, however, as Natasha Romanoff asked him a question.
“So, Peter, any siblings?” she sat with a bottle of wine in her hands, where she was drinking straight from the bottle. He couldn’t judge, he had done the same thing only hours ago. He smiled: his siblings were a topic he loved to talk about, he was like a proud parent.
“Yeah, a lot,” Peter started, starting to count on his fingers. Ricardo, if he counted him, which he would for this conversation, Caterina, Valentina, Mario, Luigi, Carlotta and Elisabetta. That would make seven. “Seven, I think.”
Tony’s eyes widened. Peter had never told him that. That would be why he was always at home, or always seemed to be busy. Seven siblings? Fuck. But his heart sunk when Peter continued.
“One of them’s dead, though, so that’s six. Youngest is, I think seven months, and I’m the oldest. I didn’t used to be, though.” he explained honestly. “Valentina’s starting sixth grade next year, I think, and Caterina’s starting tenth.”
Natasha nodded, seemingly satiated by his answer. Peter smiled nervously at Tony, who gave him a nod of encouragement despite the storm brewing inside of him.
Looking at the spread in front of him made Peter feel sick. Tony had claimed ‘growing spiders needed food’, but this was more food than Peter made in a month for the whole Avengers. And he was expected to eat at least a pizza. He shared one pizza between himself and six siblings, and a few chips, if they could afford it.
He swallowed the vomit coming up his mouth and forced himself to chew on the dry cheese and wet dough of the pizza. He could do it. He was fucking God, for fuck’s sake!
“What movie do we all want to watch?” Clint said, picking up the remote and waving it around at everyone. “Keep it PG, there is also a child here!”
“I’m 15!” he snapped, but not in an unfriendly way. He was annoyed at people thinking he was just a child. He was a parent, for God’s sake, he was a rock. A support system.
“Yeah, whatever. So, Kingsman?” Clint waved him off. Everyone nodded, including Peter, and they started to watch. Colin Firth’s accent filled the room as they all settled down with various bits of food from the coffee table.
As Eggsy parkoured his way down the estate, which Peter was secretly jealous of, and one-hundred percent believed he could do in one try, there was small muttering happening between Natasha and Clint, and they stared at him. He tried to make out like he had not noticed, but they were spies. They noticed everything.
And, as Eggsy gave Harry some lecture about silver spoons being shoved up their arses, which Peter had to wholeheartedly agree with, his phone started vibrating and the telltale bass line of Ice, Ice, Baby started playing. Peter’s heart dropped. He felt sick.
“Sorry,” he stuttered out as he stared at Caterina’s contact name filling up the home screen of his flip phone. “I, I have to take this.”
“Lei e li, vero? (She’s there, isn’t she?)” Peter breathed in and out, on the verge of a panic attack. He swallowed the bile in his throat as he threatened to keel over, and tears filled up his brown eyes. His chest rose and fell rapidly. As Valentina’s timid voice came out the other side, a tear rolled down his cheek. “Caterina ha la mazza? (Has Caterina got the bat?)”
“Yes,” Valentina’s voice was shaky, and it sounded like she had worked herself into a panic as much as Peter had. They were siblings, after all. It was probably in their genes. “She’s drunk. She’s got a bottle.”
“Caterina ha una mazza, lei la colpirà. (Caterina’s got a bat, she’ll hit her.)” Peter tried to soothe his sister. Even in this situation, which he knew would happen eventually, he had to put his siblings before himself. “Get Carlotta, Mario, Luigi and Elisabetta and run them round to Tracey and Davide’s. Bene? Rimanga sicuro. Ti voglio bene. (Alright? Stay safe. I love you.)”
Peter hung up the phone and put it in his pocket, shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes. Tony was immediately at his side, and the movie had paused. He put a hand onto his mentee’s shoulder, and was subtly asking for an explanation. Natasha, Clint and Steve had unconsciously moved closer towards him.
“Um, something’s happened. I’m so, so, so, sorry, but I have to go. Like, right now. It’s like, really desperate.” Peter slid down the wall and his breaths were coming in great heaves or gasps. Tony knelt down in front of him, working him through the panic attack. “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, oh my God, they’re gonna die, oh no, no, no,”
Tony had no idea what he was talking about. And as a concerned mentor, he wanted to know. But the most important thing was that Peter got home to his siblings, and as much as he thought Peter had too much of a parental role in their lives, he wasn’t that close with the boy. As close as he would like to be. It, right now, was not his place.
He did what Peter asked. He drove Peter home, and nothing could have prepared him for the sight he saw. Caterina was holding a bat and waving it threateningly at a woman who looked very dishevelled, her hair knotty and tangled and sticking up everywhere, who was holding a bottle, and who also looked vaguely familiar. Caterina was shouting in Italian as the woman cried on the floor. Caterina kicked her, holding the bat in her face.
Peter did not even stop to say goodbye. He got out of the car and immediately joined Caterina, shouting and screaming at the woman.
“You don’t get to show up here one day and just demand for us to let you back in! You left! Ricardo died!” Peter yelled. Tony couldn’t do anything.
He turned around, taking one last glimpse at the woman, who had passed out on the floor now and Peter took a turn at kicking her, before collapsing on the stairs and crying, yelling at the same time.
Tony realised why they looked familiar at the same time Peter said the words mom.
How could Peter be related to.. that?