Peter couldn't do this.

This was a mess.

When he returned, too much was asked of him. Natasha clashed with the others about it, but the pressure wouldn't stop. Maybe she was just trying to steal Peter for herself — he had no clue, but still, this was awful.

Sometimes he didn't want to move. When he woke up, he didn't get out until he had to. He moved sluggishly.

Although gentle, the team's pushes were anything but subtle. Pushes to eat, to train, to socialize, to do anything at all. Sometimes it was too much for him.

Steve took a seat on his bed. He leaned over and tapped Peter on the shoulder. He sat up in a flurry and grabbed his wrist tightly. "It's me, son," he said gently. "I brought food."

He set a plate down on his nightstand table. Peter swung his feet over the bed. A large muffin was in front of him. He didn't think he could eat it all.

Steve was patient. Peter never understood why.

"I live with Tony," he explained. "He never sleeps, never eats. You're easier, though. You try ."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "He's got anxiety problems, like you."

Peter picks up the muffin and takes a small bite.

Steve started to laugh. "You know, Bruce is down there right now. I don't think Tony ever slept last night."

He took a sip of his smoothie. Peter takes another bite of his muffin, and Steve realizes he's done. He smiled when he saw more than half was gone.

Peter pushed himself out of the bed. His legs were shaky, and he felt groggy. Steve stood up and waved a goodbye, taking the plate with him.

What his mirror showed him was not pleasant. His face was gray with large eye bags, his hair was greasy, and he reeked. He blew out a large puff of air and climbed into the shower.

He felt better after words, even though just a little. His skin was red from the heat, and his fingers were pruny.

Pulling a clean shirt over his head felt even better. He wore a blank tank and sweat pants.

He ran into Bruce on his way up from the lab. He carried a plate in hand. "Mission failed," he sighed, setting it down on the island.

Sam twirled around. "What? I cooked his favorite," he pouted.

"He was busy ," he said with an eye roll. He noticed Peter and gave a wave. Peter pointed to the plate. "Oh, that? That was Tony's." Peter continued to stare at it. "You want it?"

Peter nodded and took the plate. He grabbed it and headed towards the lab.

Tony was indeed very busy. He had safety goggles pulled over his face, a courtesy of Bruce. He was in the center of a mess of scattered parts and paper balls.

Tony didn't look over at Peter's entrance. His footsteps were silent under the blasting music of Metallica. It wasn't until Peter bumped into a cart did Tony say something.

"Bruce, stop overriding JARVIS's protocols," he grumbled. "Seriously, shoo." Peter set down the plate. The music got quieter. "I don't want it."

Peter crossed his arms. He stomped his foot loudly. Tony rolled his head back. "Bruce, could you—" His mouth shut when he saw Peter. "Oh, hey." He nodded.

His mouth was gaping. Tony had set protocols for everyone to stay out. Peter being the exception.

He hadn't left his room in days, and Tony didn't want to be a part of that.

"Bruce set you up to this?" Tony asked, but he knew he didn't. Peter shook his head. He pushed the plate closer to Tony.

Tony sighed. He stood up and ripped the goggles off of his head and tossed them a few feet away. He sat down and picked up his fork. Peter gave a thumbs up. "I'll make you a deal," Tony said. "I'll eat this" — he cocked his head towards the plate — "If you, do me a big favor." He was grinning.

Peter looked hesitant. He promoted him to continue. "You have to help me," he said, leaning in closer. "I'm pulling a prank on Capsicle. You want in?"

Whether or not he wanted to, he was involved and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

Tony's plan was the one of a petty, highschool girl who wanted revenge on the preppies: putting blue hair dye in his shampoo.

It was easy for Peter with the web crawling and all.

Maybe it wasn't worth it, maybe Tony was being super petty. And Steve was outraged, don't let his expression tell you any different. It's just when he walked out, fuming, face red with anger — he was met with a wide grin on a face of someone where smiles were seldom. And it felt good.

It felt really good.

Making Peter smile is a drug, and everyone who lives in the Tower is basically high off of it. All the time. A rarity, it was.

It was on one of Peter's better days, one where he woke up almost without a problem, one of his "okay" days, which are the best he gets now. The team had went for a swim after a training session, one which Peter involved himself in. He sat idle on the seat.

Clint dropped down with a water gun in hand. "Better watch out now, nerds," he called out, spraying wildly. Natasha was armed in an instant. She ducked behind a table. "Nat, team up with me!"

Steve hissed, dropping his drink. "Hey! We're unarmed," he yelped, but Clint had no mercy. He inched closer to Sam, who was left behind in the mess.

"Clint, no," Sam pleaded.

"Clint, yes," he menaced. He stepped closer, and Sam retreated. It took a step backwards without taking his eyes off Clint. Except, his foot never touched the ground. Sam tumbled backwards into the pool.

Natasha came out from behind the table to laugh at Sam, who had scrambled for the stairs. He was shivering. "Clint!"

Then, there was this loud cackling ringing out through the pool. "Please don't tell me it's a red alert," Clint sighed, dropping his gun.

Tony was grinning. "No, no," he said, shaking his head. "Not a villain. Look." He grabbed his head and moved it towards Peter.

Peter was hunched over in his chair. His hands had flown up to cover his mouth, but he had stopped when his sides hurt from laughing so hard.

Sam pulled himself out of the pool. "Yeah?" he teased. "Think that's funny, punk?" He scooped Peter off of his chair.

Peter let out a loud, playful scream. Sam took his victim and jumped into the pool.

Bruce set his book down. The two didn't resurface.

Natasha was about to dive in until Sam breached the water with Peter up on his shoulders. He was still laughing loudly.

"Peter," she said fondly.

He looked up and waved.

She reached down to grab Clint's water gun. She chucked it to Peter, who, in an attempt to catch it, threw himself off of Sam's shoulders.

Tony had jumped in the pool. Peter sprayed him in the face.

"Don't shoot your boss," he hissed in fake offense. "Rude." He put a hand over his arc reactor.

Peter stuck his tongue out.

Bruce and Steve sat back at the table. "This may not last for long," Bruce warned. "Go in while you can."

Steve set his drink down on the table. "Only if you do too."

Bruce pondered. "Maybe not," he said, glancing down at his book. He flipped the page.

Steve gestured towards the pool. "Bruce, I—" Steve started, but a stream of water sprayed Bruce right in the face. "Bruce!"

Peter was gaping. He playfully hit Tony, who still held the gun pointed at Bruce. "What?" Tony shrugged.

He put his hands together and cupped them to make "book."

In revenge for the endangerment of Bruce's book, Peter sprayed water in his face.

Bruce was turning green. Very, very green. Steve's face was stern when he completely transformed.

"Hulk," Natasha said, but the Hulk had took off and jumped in the pool. Water scattered all over Tony's deck.

So, you see, Peter had some good days. Peter had a lot of those.

Peter's healing was gradual over time, but it didn't start at first. At first, Peter wasn't getting any better.

Before his first laughter was Ben's birthday.

Ben's birthday was a day he spent with his family. Last year, Gwen even went with him. They'd eaten cake in a cemetery.

This year, Peter didn't get out of bed.

"It's one of those days, huh?" Sam asked when Steve arrived with the plate still in hand. He nodded. "He's been doing good lately." Steve hummed, thinking.

His phone started to ring. "Fury?" he answered. Sam mouthed "Mission?" while he spoke.

"It's his Uncle's birthday today. I don't believe he'd ask you to take him, not that he could. It's his first year alone," Fury said. "I'll send you the address. Just thought you'd know."

"You actually like the kid, don't you?" Steve teased. "Well, what do you say about coming over later? For Peter?"

Fury was silent. "Maybe I will," he said. "If I finish my super spy business."

"Fury?"

"Inside joke," he dismissed. He hung up.

Fury did end up coming later. How could he not?

He was met with this large, fluffball of sadness. He had cake smeared over his face. "Peter," he scoffed, motioning at his face. "You got a little something."

Peter cocked his head in confusion. "Right there," he justified, but Peter wasn't getting it.

He looked right and left, but all the Avengers were occupied. He grabbed a handkerchief and wiped at his face real quick. A camera flash went off.

Natasha had a camera in her hands. "Aw, Fury," she purred.

Peter threw a bottle at Nat, who caught it in her hand. "Nice try, but this one is going in the album." Her grin widened. "Fury, you haven't seen the album."

Peter had gotten off the couch. Natasha pulled an album out from under the table, and Peter was trying to steal it from her grip. She handed it to Fury, who held it high over his head where Peter couldn't get it.

Clint sat on top of Peter so he couldn't move. Fury flipped through the photos.

All the photos were of Peter. In almost 75% of them, Peter was asleep.

Peter crossed his arms over his chest.

Going out was nice. Peter wanted to stay inside, but when he helped someone else again he felt a lot better. He went out with the Avengers, even on his patrol. Sam or Tony usually went with him, since they're the most mobile of the team.

Today, the entire team was out. It wasn't Peter's fight, but he was roped along into it.

He was handling himself well. His training had left him more capable of fighting than ever before.

He sent a robot alien flying into the wall. His foot was kicked up high in the air to send another one to his other friend in the wall.

Clint was panting. "Whoo," he cheered sarcastically. "How many times has New York been attacked this week?"

Peter started to smile under his mask. Clint was firing arrows left and right. They were back to back.

"I need higher ground," he announced. "Sam, Tony, if one of you wanna give me a ride…"

Peter charged forward to punch one, but he was outnumbered. He was brought to the ground by a dogpile.

He twisted around, but he was cornered.

Clint was busy with firing arrows, and the rest of his team was far away. Nobody saw him go down.

He kicked one off of him, but the robots just kept coming.

He was shaking. "C…" His chest hitched. Anxiety swirled in his chest. "Cl… Clin…"

"CLINT!"

Clint fired his last arrow and spun on his heels.

He frowned at his empty quiver, and he took off. He kicked them off of Peter to where he was able to move and punch some off himself.

"Was that… Peter?" Sam asked in the communicator. "Peter?"

When the fight was done, Peter was engulfed in a tight hug. He yelped around Clint. "I'm his favorite," he said. "Yup. His first word was my name. Suck it, Nat."

"Oh, please, you were just the closest," Natasha said with an eye roll.

"But he did speak?" Steve asked astonished.

"Ooh! Say my name," Tony piped up. "Do me; do me!"

Clint cradled him closer. "Not that easy," Natasha explained. "It was a dangerous explanation, and Peter had hard enough of a time getting it as loud as it was. Even though he was at a normal tone of voice."

"We can take it slow," Sam said. "No pressure, Peter."

Talking took a lot out of Peter.

He tried, though. He really did.

After that, he could get a few words in a day. His voice was always quiet, but he could speak a little. It was enough progress.

Peter was waddling behind Natasha in the helicarrier. They walked right up to where Fury stood in the helicarrier. Agents were flying past left and right.

"Parker?" He asked in a monotone voice. Coulson grinned.

Natasha handed a briefcase to Coulson. "From the mission," she said with a wink. Peter didn't want to know what was in there. Well, maybe a little.

"Nice to see you again, Parker," Phil greeted. "You look like you're doing well."

Peter nodded. "I am."

Nearby, Fury choked. "Not the craziest thing I've seen," he commented. "Peter?"

"Fury," he greeted, voice small. "Hi." He gave a tiny wave. His voice broke at the end.

And, yeah, that was a new thing.

Things turn out that Peter is a snarky little bug.

Like, really snarky.

It's nice hearing him speak.

Sing? Not so much.

Sam was going to go fetch him for dinner. JARVIS told him he was up on the patio.

"Peter?"

He squeaked. "W-when?"

"Don't ever sing again," he begged. "Please."