Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dark.

It’s so dark.

He doesn’t know why. He knows he should.

Why is it so dark?

Where is he?

Footsteps.

Flick

Bright.

Too bright.

It’s too bright.

“Wakey, wakey, Паук!” A voice calls out.

Loud.

The voice is so loud.

There's a weight.

A weight on his head.

A warm hand on his head.

Паук leans into it. It’s so warm. Burning.

The hand curls and suddenly yanks.

Someone is screaming.

Паук is screaming.

He’s strapped to a chair.

His wrists are heavy. So are his ankles.

There’s something heavy around them.

There is metal in his mouth, between his teeth and tongue.

The chair starts to fall, fall back.

Паук screams again as he feels shocks going through his body.

Then it is dark. And Паук remembers nothing.

A sigh. His name. “Peter!” a high-pitched voice called out. “Wakey, wakey!”

Peter opens his eyes.

A brunette is standing over him. Aunt May, his brain registers.

Aunt May leaves the room.

Peter gets up and opens the attic. A red and blue suit fell.

Huh.

What a weird dream, Па–Peter thinks.

Chapter Text

“Папа?”  Паук asked.

Папа had hummed. 

Папа looked towards him, his eyes dark, so dark. But to Паук, they were warm.

He turned to Паук with a smile on his face. “Yes Паук?”

“I missed you today”, Паук said, his voice small. He looked down and scraped his foot against the floor. “Training was hard without you there.”

Папа’s smile fell and his warm eyes turned cold. “They shouldn’t be training you without me there, Паук. You know that right?”

Паук nodded, his head bobbing up and down as fast as possible. He hated disappointing Папа.

Папа smiled again, but his eyes were still cold. “I’m going to have a talk with your trainer. Stay here, alright?”

Паук nodded again, “Goodbye, Папа.”

He didn’t see Папа’s metal arm glint in the small light as he walked out of the room. 

He pretended he didn't hear the screams.

Chapter Text

Peter glanced around the room. His room. He could hear his aunt humming in the other room. 

His eyes dragged down toward his Spiderman suit and a smile caught his face. 

“That was a weird dream,” he thought to himself as he threw the suit into his attic.

“Aunt May must be making breakfast”, he murmured, but his smile suddenly fell when--

The smell of burning invaded his senses.

He whipped his head towards his door, and his breath caught. Fire stained his memories.

A man stood in front of him. A man with dark, dark eyes. Dark eyes that stared into Peter.

His home burned. Mama and Papa were in there. The fire circled the house and screamed for him. The deafening screams of his Mama crying and begging the man not to hurt her son. 

The man walked towards him, his heavy steps imprinting on the quickly melting snow. The man with dark eyes and dark hair and a shiny arm.

Peter felt tears falling from his eyes as the man slowly brought his hand up to his ear. 

His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke.

“Target acquired.”

He gasped, his hand clutching at his chest as Aunt May opened the door again. 

“Peter! Are you ok?” She rushed over to him, worry in her eyes. “Peter?”

Peter glanced up when he felt his aunt’s warm hand on his back, “Aunt May…?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes, Peter, it's me." She sighed in relief and continued, "I made breakfast.”

Peter brushed her hand off of his back and the smell of smoke hit him again.

“You burnt the food again, didn’t you?”

Peter’s vision faded from his mind once he saw the smile on his aunt’s face.