Tear Me To Pieces

Tony had taken him to his room, given him some clothes that might fit, but Peter refused to change. He sat on the edge of the bed quietly, thinking about how this wasn’t his home and his bed wasn’t this firm. Tony had left him alone for a while, until FRIDAY spoke up and informed Peter that breakfast was waiting for him in the kitchen.

He didn’t want to eat, he wasn’t hungry, but he had gone anyway. Anything to distract him.

Peter stood, watching as Pepper placed the last pancake on top of a way-too perfect looking stack.

“Have a seat.” She cooed, so he did. There was a large table in the room, meant to seat all of the avengers at once, but Peter sat alone. Pepper had set up a placemat for him, there was cutlery and a glass of water. A little bottle of maple syrup sat next to it.

Pepper made her way over, placing the food in front of him. It looked straight out of a cookbook.

“Home-made pancakes, made just the way you say you like them.” She said, her voice warm.

Peter swallowed a bitter taste in his mouth, “No, I like the way that May made them.”

Pepper pulled back, looking at Peter sadly. “I’m sorry, Peter.” She hesitated, but ultimately decided it was best to leave Peter on his own. She left the room, the click of her heels echoed behind her down the hall.

Peter knew that May would have burnt half the pancakes, and the other half would be mildly undercooked. He would have made fun of her, but eaten them anyway. He was sure that the food in front of him was good, but it wasn’t made the way he liked it, and he didn’t want it.

He hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before, but the pancakes that sat in front of him went cold. He stayed there, staring at them for longer than he kept track of.

FRIDAY spoke again. “Mr. Parker, Mr. Stark would like you to eat your food.”

Peter instinctively rolled his eyes. “Tell Mr. Stark I’m not hungry.” Peter should have been be bothered that Tony was checking up on him from other rooms, but he didn’t have the energy to care.

FRIDAY came back over the speaker, “Mr. Parker, Mr. Stark says you must, otherwise the food will go to waste.”

Peter groaned, “So let it.” He pushed his chair away from the table, standing up and heading out of the kitchen, down the hallway and up the stairs. He went back toward the bedroom he was suppose to call his own.

Peter was perfectly content to wallow in his grief but he bumped into Steve on the stairs. Peter briefly wished he’d stuck around to eat those pancakes. He didn’t have it in him to have another interaction that morning.

Steve had sympathy painted all over him and for some reason, it irked Peter. It annoyed him because Peter was tired of crying, and he knew that once he was asked again about his aunt, there was a high chance he would cry again. He wasn’t sure he had any tears left in his body. He thought by now he’d cried himself completely dry.

“Hey Peter.” Steve greeted, his voice soft. “How’re you doing?”

Peter shrugged pathetically, looking anywhere but at the man standing in front of him.

“I’ve been better.”

Steve nodded, “It’s great to have you at the compound now, I’m sure you’ll settle in no time.”

Peter didn’t respond, his eyes started to fill again. There went any chance of Peter being all out of tears. He almost wanted to laugh at how sad and pathetic he was.

Steve noticed this immediately, and suddenly it was like he was trying not to break the ice and plunge Peter in.

His voice grew even more gentle, “I’m right down the hall from Tony, if you ever want to chat. We’re all really glad you’re alright.”

Peter plastered on the biggest smile he could muster, which wasn’t very big by those standards, and said a small thank you. He then walked off in the direction of his bedroom, leaving Steve in the middle of the stairs.

Once Peter reached his room, he went straight for the bed. He climbed in and under the covers. Nothing about it was right, and it made him want to scream. The bed was too big, the sheets too soft, and no scent of May’s fabric softener remained. He wanted hispillows.

“FRIDAY? Can you turn off all the lights?” He asked, speaking out into the empty room.

“Of course, Mr. Parker.” He was washed in darkness.

Peter laid quietly, numbly, until eventually, he fell asleep.

+

Peter awoke to a soft knock on his door.

“Come in.” He called, sitting up in the dark room that definitely wasn’t his own.

The door was pushed open, revealing Pepper. “FRIDAY, night mode.” She called. The room was brightened by a soft amber glow.

Peter didn’t say anything as Pepper approached his bed. She took an unwelcome seat at the edge.

“I know this is hard, Peter,” She started.

Peter didn’t say anything, he looked at Pepper tiredly.

“But I need your help to plan the funeral.”

Peter felt disbelief run through him. It was too fresh.

“Are you kidding me?” He said, his voice sceptical.

Pepper looked upset.

Peter continued, “I can’t- No.“

Pepper was about to say something, but Peter cut her off. “It hurts too much.” He whispered, looking down at his hands.

“Okay, it’s alright. I’ll figure it all out for you. Could I ask you one thing though Peter?”

Peter nodded distractedly.

“What were her favourite flowers?”

Peter wracked his brain, but nothing came to mind. “I...I don’t know.” He felt tears well up in his eyes for the billionth time that day.

“It’s okay,” Pepper said softly, standing from her seat. She showed herself out of the room, leaving Peter in the dim light.

Peter retrieved his cellphone from his pocket, he had some unread texts. When he turned it on, he saw that he had slept for a long time, it was close to 4pm.

Ned had sent him a plethora of messages earlier that afternoon. Peter read them, his heart heavy as Ned had seen the news, which apparently showed off photos of May’s wrecked car, and claimed of one life being lost. The last messages Ned had sent were a series of “Peter, call me.”’s and “are you okay????”’s.

Peter did call Ned, and Ned answered on the first ring.

“Where have you been?”

Peter let out a hollow laugh. “What are you, my mother?”

Ned laughed, and Peter frowned.

“I’m at the compound.” Peter explained.

“Are you with the Avengers? Oh that’s so cool Peter! Wait...why?”

Peters shoulder slumped, he didn’t know how to say it. May was dead. How was he suppose to tell his best friend that?

“Um,” Peters throat tightened even though he willed it not too. “Something happened.” He said quietly.

Ned’s voice turned serious. “What? What happened?”

Peter was having trouble coming up with the words, and his voice started to shake. “It’s, um, it’s May.“

Ned didn’t catch on. “Is she okay?”

Peter wished to god that he didn’t have to speak the words aloud. “No Ned...There’s uh, theres gonna be a funeral.”

Ned didn’t say anything, and Peter didn’t want him to. He knew Ned would have a hard time processing this. Ned had been there through Peters loss of his uncle as well.

Peter spoke again, “I have to go, Ned. I’ll send you the details of the funeral.”

“Okay...I’m sorry Peter.”

Peter ended the call, shaking his head as he tried to calm himself. He stood up, opting to finally take a shower.

Once he was showered and dressed, he felt composed enough to go out and explore the compound a little bit. He found himself down the stairs from where his bedroom was, and he entered into a large living room area with couches and a tv.

A few of the Avengers were there, chatting and watching the news.

Bruce was the first one to acknowledge Peters presence.

“Hey Peter!” He called, motioning for him to join them on the couches.

Natasha was there, as well as Bucky and Steve. Peter took a seat on one of the empty seats, his hands in his lap. He felt out of place.

“You look much better.” Steve said, and Natasha gently smacked him. “I just mean more rested, less tired.” He saved, sending Peter a soft smile.

Peter said nothing, he watched as the news covered the weather, the recent snowfall overnight, and something about a dog who was stuck under a car. It sort of made Peter want to cry again, but not in the same way he’d been crying before.

Natasha spoke up. “We’re glad to have you around kid. How are you liking your quarters?”

Peter shrugged, still saying nothing.

She tried again, “Pretty cool to have your own bathroom though, right?”

“I guess.” Peter mumbled, and she backed off.

They sat quietly for a while, and Peter kind of wished he would get a little more attention sent his way. The news dragged on, until suddenly, there was an image of May’s wrecked car being plastered across the big screen.

The lady on the news spoke in a monotone voice. “On Friday evening a hit and run occurred in Queens. The police suspect the driver of a black, 1997 mazda protege to have been intoxicated, running a red light and pushing a car into the line of an oncoming semi-truck. If anybody has any info on the driver, the NYPD in Queens is requesting to be-“

The channel was changed, Peter sat with a blank stare. The energy in the room shifted to something more tight, but nobody chose to acknowledge it. The laugh track to some sitcom filled the room, and Peter would have rather seen what the NYPD had to say about his aunt.

Peter waited five minutes for somebody to say something, anything, to see if he was alright. It was selfish, but it pissed him off endlessly that not a single person wanted to act like Peter wasn’t okay. They all seemed to think that he wanted to claim that he was.

Peter sighed and stood up, marching out of the room. He wandered the compound for what felt like ages, until he came upon Tony’s workshop.

Tony and Pepper were having a serious conversation when Peter walked in. It came to an abrupt end as Pepper muttered something and stalked off, leaving Tony to look at Peter with tender eyes.

“Hi Mr. Stark.” Peter offered, and Tony beckoned him over.

“Hey squirt.”

Peter automatically rolled his eyes at the nickname. Tony smiled kindly.

“The funeral is going to be on Monday.” Tony said earnestly.

Peter nodded, saying nothing.

“Would you like to speak on behalf of your aunt?” Tony asked, looking at Peter expectantly.

Peter nodded again, “I would...but I don’t think I can.”

“Why not?”

“I just...there’s nothing I could say that wouldn’t send me over the edge.” His voice was faint.

Tony placed hand on Peters shoulder. “I can write something, just so that you’ve got an idea. Okay? You’ll barely have to do a thing other than read a few words.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

Tony smiled reassuringly. “Let’s head upstairs, we can order pizza for dinner. You need to eat something.”

The mention of food made Peter realize how hungry he truly was, and he nodded his head with slight enthusiasm.

“Sounds good, Mr. Stark.”

+

That Sunday had been rough for Peter, he had spent the majority of it in bed, still mourning. When he had finally emerged, he only managed to turn his mood more sour as all the Avengers continued to act as if Peter was barely there. Peter wasn’t sure whether he needed to start crying or smiling to get their attention.

It was Monday, and Peter stood in front of the bathroom mirror as Pepper fastened his tie for him. He didn’t want her to help him, he could do it on his own.

The ride to the funeral was wordless, Peter watched the scenery pass him until they were back in Queens, and he started to feel sick.

Happy took them around the edge of Queens as request of Tony, in case they ended up on the street that the crash had occurred.

As they arrived at the church, Peter spotted Ned by the doors. He looked distressed, like he’d been crying, and honestly, Peter wasn’t shocked. Ned had pretty much grown up with him, he thought of May as just as much of an aunt as Peter did.

When Ned saw Peter, he catapulted himself toward him, enveloping Peter in a hug.

“Good to see you too.” Peter joked dryly, appreciating the instant comfort seeing his best friend gave him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Ned said sincerely, releasing Peter. Peter smiled genuinely for the first time in two days.

The funeral went by faster than Peter expected. He said hello to a handful of May’s friends who he recognized, and everyone told him how sorry they were. It was hardly genuine, but Peter appreciated their condolences.

Peter did as Tony had asked, he spoke directly off a paper. It told a story of May that Peter decided wasn’t too far from the truth. It spoke of her heart, and how it had so much room to take Peter in the way she did. Peter didn’t cry, he felt numb the entire time.

Near the end, Peter and Tony visited the spot where May had been laid to rest. Some of her friends had left flowers and cards there.

“She’s in a better place.” Tony said, but Peter disagreed. That was a stupid cliché, Peter knew May was perfectly happy where she was, living with her nephew in Queens. Even if she had had the ability to live a much better life, he wholeheartedly believed she had been happy.

When the funeral was over, Peter, Tony, Pepper, and Happy packed themselves into the car.

“Peter,” Tony called, grabbing his attention. “We’re going to stop at yours and May’s apartment, okay? Just so we can gather some of your stuff.”

Peter nodded, and let his eyes scan the buildings as they headed toward his home.

When they arrived, Tony pulled out keys to the building. How he acquired them, Peter had absolutely no idea, and he kind of felt like he should.

They took the stairs, and Tony was the one to lead them into the apartment.

Peter sucked in a breath as he crossed the threshold, taking in the apartment. It was just the way they had left it.

May’s coat was thrown across the back of the couch, and a half full cup of now cold tea sat on the coffee table. Peters shoes were scattered in the doorway, and May’s umbrella still sat up against the door where she would have left it to dry.

Peter was automatically overwhelmed, his head started to hurt.

He ended up in his bedroom with Tony, who helped him gather his clothes into a suitcase. He made sure to pack is decathlon jacket, and when he opened his closet to his Spider-Man suit he was hesitant. He grabbed it anyway and tossed it at Tony, who examined it with an unreadable expression. He packed it in with the rest of Peters things.

Peters bed was unmade, which May always hated, and it sent a wave of sadness through him. He began to straighten out the sheets.

“What are you doing?” Tony asked, zipping up Peters suitcase.

“Making my bed. May will-would have gotten mad if she had seen it like this.” He sighed, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.

Tony made a sound of empathy, and Peter turned away from his bed.

“Can we go now Mr. Stark?”

“Of course.”

Peter picked up His backpack and walked out of his room, spotting Pepper across the living room. She was cleaning up May’s stuff, straightening her papers and removing the days old cup of tea from the table.

“What are you doing?”

Pepper looked up to Peters question, smiling kindly. “I’m just straightening up-“

Peter rushed over, pulling the mug from Peppers grasp. Cold tea splashed up over the rim and onto Peppers hand.

“Don’t touch that.” He snapped. Pepper’s hand recoiled, she looked shocked.

Peter angrily set it back on the table, storming off toward the entrance of the apartment. He grabbed his shoes and headed out down the hallway, letting angry tears push their way into his eyes, but stopping them before they could fall.

He reached the car long before Tony and Pepper did, and eventually, they emerged from the building.

Tony opened the door to Peters side of the car.

“Pete, you need to apologize to Pepper.”

Peter was taken aback, “What? No way.”

Tony wore a look of parental disapproval, and Peter didn’t like it.

“Pete, Pep was just tidying up. She didn’t mean any harm, you didn’t have to be so harsh about it.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” Peter huffed.

“You’re acting like a little kid. Man up and apologize to her.” Tony demanded, stepping back to let Peter slide out of the car.

Peter wanted to argue, but he was tired. He pulled himself out of the car and dragged his feet over to where Pepper was standing on the sidewalk.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you.” He said, his words had absolutely no sincerity behind them.

Pepper smiled. “It’s alright, Peter. Thank you.”

Peter turned away, ignoring Tony’s nod of approval, and slumped back into his seat in the car. He pulled out a pair of headphones from his backpack, sticking them in his ears so he didn’t have to listen to Tony and Pepper talk.

He knew that this one was going to be a much longer drive.