Brothers bonding over Panic Attacks and Milkshakes
“Knock knock,” Fitz announced himself, as he walked into Peter’s room carrying two Oreo chocolate milkshakes without actually knocking on the door or waiting for the teen to say it was okay to enter.
“Pretty sure it defeats the purpose of saying ‘knock knock’ if you’re just going to walk in anyway,” Peter pointed out, and he wanted to sound annoyed- he’d been in a bad mood ever since he woke up. No, he’d been in a mood for the last couple of days. He’d barely left his room. Even Morgan had tried that morning to get him to come out and he’d refused. Which he had felt guilty about, but he just hadn’t had the energy. He promised he would make it up to her later.
“Yeah well, can’t call m’self your big brother if I’m not annoyin’ ya from time to time,” the Scot shrugged, setting the shakes down on Peter’s bedside table so he could pull up the desk chair, up next to the bed.
“I see what you’re doin’” The Scot immediately accused, taking a sip of his milkshake and eyeing Peter suspiciously.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just sitting here.” Peter lied, and he hates how breathless and weak he sounded
“Yeah, I think you know exactly wha’ I’m talkin’ about.” Fitz continued to watch the teen expectantly, and shook his head with a sigh when Peter pretended to be oblivious.
“You had another panic attack this morning, and now you’re in here wallowin’.” Fitz stated matter-of-fact, and shrugged his shoulders, grabbing the still untouched milkshake so he could hand it to Peter, who was frowning at the wall as if it had personally offended him. Fitz wasn’t wrong, and Peter couldn’t even come up with a better excuse to prove Fitz otherwise.
Being out of the hospital was supposed to be better. He just wanted to show everyone he was okay, but he couldn’t even shower by himself without a panic attack and his whole mood had gone down the toilet ever since. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Fitz shook his head.
“Hey, it’s alright. I get it. I’ve been there,” Fitz’s eyes went a bit distant, clearly remembering something he didn’t like, as he frowned into his milkshake. “I just wanted to remind ya that you’re not alone, okay? I’m begin’ ya not to shut us out…” There was a brief pause, before he added in a much quieter, more desperate tone, “Especially me.”
Peter shifted, pushing himself up so he was sitting up straighter and finally fully looked at the man he considered family- his brother. Guilt washed over him, prickling at his skin like ice water. He hadn’t meant to, but he had been shutting him out.
“I just thought I’d feel better being here, but… everything still feels weird and wrong and then… then I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t… I don’t recognize myself.” His voice broke, and he coughed, to clear his throat and reached for his untouched milkshake. “Thanks for this, it looks delicious.”
Fitz nodded knowingly, poking at his own milk shake with his straw, stirring it up absently. “I’d like to tell you that’ll go away. But it probably won’t. Not really. But… but it’ll get better. You’ll develop a new normal. But you don’t have to rush it. You’ve got time.”
Peter dropped his gaze to his own shake, and narrowed his eyes in an attempt to keep his tears at bay. “I see the milkshake was just a rouse. A bribe to have this conversation, huh?” His lips quirked into a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood. He’d been down on himself for long enough and he didn’t like burdening Fitz or anyone else with his moods when they went south. It was one of the reasons why he shut them out in the first place when he got like this.
Fitz tsked, and shook his head as he stood and for a split second, Peter thought he might be leaving. That he’d said something wrong and the smile left his face quicker than it appeared. “Scoot,” the man said instead, flicking his finger at Peter towards the wall. “There’s plenty of space in this massive Stark bed for the two of us. We’ve shared smaller. Go on.”
It took a second for Peter to move, but as soon as he did, Fitz was sliding into the bed next to him, setting his half finished milkshake on the table next to them so he could wrap his arm protectively around Peter.
“I’m quite a bit older than the last time we did this, but at least the bed’s a lot more comfy,” Fitz noted, patting the bed with his free hand. They’d done this a few times, but the most notable time was the first time, the time it had been Fitz in the hospital for his brain injury. For Peter that had been just a few years ago. For Fitz… Peter wasn’t even sure how long ago it was. He hadn’t heard the whole story yet, but he knew some time travel on Fitz’s part had aged him even more than the five years that Peter was gone.
The reminder sent a pang through Peter’s heart and he scooted so he could rest his head against Fitz’s shoulder after taking another sip of his shake.
“We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want,” Fitz said after a beat of silence. “But you’re stuck with me for a bit. Jemma’s taken Morgan and Alya on a stroll around the lake. Morgan said somethin’ about a tree house and Alya is very interested in that.”
Peter smiled more genuinely at that. He’d heard about the treehouse too, very animatedly by Morgan on his second day home. But he hadn’t been able to venture out to see it yet.
“Thank you, Fitz,” he murmured, letting out a contented sigh. Some of the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders seemed to ease the longer they sat there together. It didn’t completely go away, he wasn’t sure if it ever would again. But sometimes it went away enough. Enough that he could pretend it wasn’t there.