sixty-seven.
It's been 35 days since Peter's rescue and he's beginning to get restless. He wants to get out of the house, but he isn't ready for school and still barely remembers his friends. He wants to go somewhere that he's never been before. He doesn't want to relearn, he wants to be taught without issue.
So, when he hears the bells in the distance, he asks Nat what they belong to. She tells him that it's a Church, and offers to take him to one if he wants. So, he dresses up in the only pair of pants that will fit him and borrows a button up from Nat, and she drives him to one of the few Catholic churches in Brooklynn Heights. The one that they end up at isn't at all fancy, but it looks to be nearly as old as Steve is, if not older.
Peter wonders if this could be the church Steve attends, and with a quick question to Nat, it's proven to be the one. He knew Steve couldn't make it, as much as he wanted to. Work was keeping him busy today, but that was okay. Peter knew that his dad had a life and he'd do well to respect it.
Nat was kind enough to stay with him through the first sermon he ever remembered attending. She sat next to him calmly while he listened about God's plan for each and every person, each and every day. He wondered if him being kidnapped was somehow all a part of God's plan for him, and then he wondered why God was so cruel to him if it was. Had he done something to anger him? Was he not a good follower?
If God was kind, why had he suffered so horribly? Was he nothing more than a pawn in God's master plan for the world? Or was it all part of something even bigger? Was he meant to endure that torture to better follow in God's lead?
He tucked his hair behind his ear. He knew it was pretty long now, but he didn't really want to cut it right now. He thought the shoulder-length style kinda suited him. He kinda liked the way it curled out around his shoulders. It made him feel... Different, but in a nice way. In all of the pictures he'd seen of himself, his hair had never been this long.
He remembered when he'd found his phone for the first time, tucked beneath the pillows on his bed. He remembers scrolling through the thousands of notifications from things like Twitter and Snapchat and all the tons of text messages from people whose faces he didn't even remember anymore. He remembers looking through his Snapchat memories, seeing all of the photos he'd taken of his friends and all the places he'd been.
He remembers scrolling through Twitter and seeing #WhatHappenedToSpiderman and #WhereIsPeterParker. From what he could gather, the first of the threads was nothing but theories about what happened to the Queens-dwelling hero, and the second was started by his friend as a way of spreading the word that he was missing. Any sightings or information were meant to be tweeted with the hashtag to help the Avengers and authorities to find him. It was a short thread.
Now, sitting here in the wooden benches surrounded by candlelight while God's followers sung praises of how kind and generous he was, he only had one question, and it shocked the Priest. Peter assumed he'd never heard such a question.
"Can God be cruel?" he asked, with no hint of anger or hostility, almost as if he wanted to clarify the boy's question. "Why, yes. He can. But I promise you, my child, God will never be crueler to you than you can handle. Everything he does has its reason. If you think that God was cruel to you, it may be that he was trying to teach you a lesson of sorts, or he was trying to show you a truth that could not be found without his help."
When the sermon ended, Peter stole into a confessional and waited. He was silent, respectful. When the opposite side of the confessional opened, he took a shaking breath. He wasn't really sure how to proceed, but he thought he had a good idea.
"Forvige me father, I believe I've sinned... I don't think I've ever confessed in my life, but I'd like to start."
"It is never too late to begin confessing your sins, my child. God will be forgiving."
So Peter recounted the parts he could remember. The way he technically murdered his Aunt May, the way he had feelings for boys, the way he was thinking of making slight changes to his appearance to seem less masculine, and the way he'd partaken in explicit sexual acts with men, including the way Rumlow had taken him against his will.
In the end, the Priest, Father Walsh, just sighed and sat silent for a moment. "My child, God loves you. He loves you no matter who your love interests are or how you present yourself. He wants you comfortable in the skin that he's put you in. These things are not sins. For your Aunt, rest her soul, you are not to blame. The hands that forced yours carry that sin. And as for that man, who forced you again, he is the one to blame. You've confessed no sins to me, Peter, but you are forgiven nonetheless. Maybe taking your memory is God's way of giving you a second chance. I pray for you, my child."
"Thank you, Father."
Steve was exhausted. Work was keeping him as busy as they could, but even now he was using what little bit of free time he had to help Bucky start finally planning their wedding. Neither of them wanted anything particularly big, but they knew that if their friends had anything to do with it, then it would be a bit of a wild night either way. Sam was already taking his duties as Steve's best man very seriously.
Bucky's been wanting to ask Peter, but he doesn't want to overwhelm the boy. Steve thinks that's okay, they're not in any big rush right now.
Steve knows their planning is over for the day when Bucky glances at the clock and grabs his jacket. Steve knew better than to ask where he was going. He was going to go to the same place he'd been going since they rescued Peter. An old 'abandoned' S.H.I.E.L.D. warehouse only a little ways from here. Steve wanted to deliver his usual, 'We don't torture people, Buck.' to his lover, but he knew he could already expect a 'He doesn't count as people anymore.' in return.
And despite Steve's moral objections, he knew that Bucky was right. He didn't count as people anymore. Steve was sure that he hadn't counted for a very long time, now. Again, despite his objections, he wouldn't protest if it would help Bucky sleep better at night... If it would help Peter.
Somewhere not so deep down he knew that if Bucky hadn't taken the job, he would have. Part of him wishes that he'd taken it, just so he could take the pleasure of squeezing the life out of that brainless motherf-
The door opened not long after Bucky left, and in walked Nat along with a limping Peter. He had crutches that he used, but Steve understood that sometimes they can get a little, okay, a lot, annoying. Somehow, Peter never let them bother him.
"Hey, I was wondering where you guys got off to."
Nat hangs up her coat and puts her keys down on the table before smiling. "Peter asked me to take him to church. I thought it might be good for him, too."
Peter leans his crutches by the door and limps his way to the couch, still smiling but not actively tuned into the conversation. Steve furrowed his brows and turned to Nat.
"Where's his hearing-aid?"
Without blinking or even seeming bothered, Nat started making up a cup of coffee. "He took it off in the traffic. I don't blame him, even I thought it was loud."
Steve just nodded. He wanted to remind the boy that he could just turn the hearing-aid down so he doesn't have to bother with taking it out and possibly losing it, but he bit his tongue. He didn't want to be overbearing or strict. He wanted to be a kind, gentle parent. He wanted to channel his mother and the way she always approached parenting. She was certainly strict when she needed to be but, to tell the truth, the only time she needed to be was when he and Bucky got into some stupid trouble.
Steve knows he wasn't the perfect child for an only parent to raise, but he hopes that he learned a lot from her on how to raise children...
Because with Peter sitting on the couch, an arm slung over his face, Steve Rogers wanted nothing more than to be the best goddamn parent in the world.