An-Peter has to move schools and is encouraged to join the art program, Peter doesn't like to talk about the reason why he moved schools (Post-homecoming, no endgame/FFH, Avengers reformed)(Picture above is like what Peter draws, except with himself)

TW-Sexual assault, PTSD

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Peter wasn't doing so well in the loud and noisy kitchen at the compound. After the incident with his teacher, he couldn't stand noise, something about how it triggers an emotional response which triggers a flashback. So yeah, Peter was thoroughly not enjoying the screaming team and the laughing. He almost cried when they quietened down to eat, finally. Peter wasn't really eating, more like continuously picking at his food. He couldn't stop thinking about the trial, and his face, he tried to shake it away but couldn't he was thankful Tony was nosy.

"So how's school, Pete?" Tony asked, way too interested in why Peter wasn't acting like normal, he seemed like over the course of the last few months he'd changed. Quieter and less open, reserved and scared. Peter shrugged, putting his fork down.

"I'm actually transferring schools." He said quietly. May had been trying to convince him to tell the team what had happened, so Peter was finally taking her advice.

"Since when? I thought you loved midtown!" Clint said. Peter shrugged again. The team were worried for Peter, he was the light of their lives and suddenly he was dull.

"Well," Peter paused to push his plate away, "I hadn't really told you, but there was an incident with one of my teachers that got taken to trial," Peter said simply, fiddling with his sleeves. He didn't wear anything that showed skin anymore, he hated when people could touch and grab him so easily. He could feel himself overheating, but the hoody made him feel safe, ish.

"Did they hurt you?" Natasha said gently. Peter shrugged, for once he was grateful for his enhanced eyesight because he had something to distract him, this time it was the stitching of his jumper.

"In a matter of speaking," Peter said, shrugging again. He stood up to clean off his plate, he didn't feel like eating anymore, he only ate when May made him. He was trying, he ate half of the plate at least, if he couldn't do it for himself, he'd do it for May.

"What do you mean by that?" Bucky said. Peter shrugged, leaning on the counter with his hands, staring intently at the splashback.

"It had been happening for a couple of months, but I didn't know who to tell, so I just hid it. He um, he was sexually assaulting me." Peter said the last part quietly. He hated how he could almost feel the silence, it made his skin crawl and his throat itch. He considered clawing at his throat, just to get rid of the feeling. He pulled on the sleeve of his jumper, covering his hands with the fabric. He heard Tony's sharp intake of breath, and Steve's opening and closing of his mouth, Bucky shifting in his seat. Everything was just too much and Peter forced himself to squeeze his eyes shut, doing the breathing exercise his therapist taught him; breath in for six seconds, hold for seven and out for eight.

"I told May when she found a bruise on my arm. She went straight to the school, they had a camera in the room the whole time. He's been convicted and he's now a registered sex offender and he'll never work with children again. I had to make a statement at the trial." Peter said, tugging on his sleeve more, his therapist explained it was a coping mechanism, trying to hide his body.

"God kid I'm am so sorry that happened to you," Bucky said softly. Peter nodded mutely.

"Me too," Peter said quietly.

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Peter hated moving to highschool, he was going somewhere no one in his middle school was, and now he was going to the same high school as the kids from his middle school. He hated that people just never left him alone, of course, he understood why people were curious about him. No one had seen him since middle school, and he'd changed a lot, he wasn't outwardly happy anymore for one thing, but he was also physically different, he wasn't gangly and scrawny, he was muscled and fit. So yeah, Peter really didn't appreciate the eyes boring at him or the whispers surrounding him as he tried to open his locker.

May and he had done a tour of the school on the weekend, and Peter memorised the school's layout so that he didn't have to have a buddy. But now he was struggling with a stupid locker, that he had to put his stupid books in, but he couldn't because the stupid lock wouldn't turn. Peter almost punched the damn thing, but instead took a deep breath and leaning it forhead on it. He hated this, he hated that he couldn't talk to Ned about StarWars or lego anymore, he hated that he couldn't be called a loser by MJ anymore, but most of all he hated how everything was messed up now. He jumped when someone spoke behind him. He wiped round with his arms raised, he put them down when he saw a female teacher. He reminded himself that he wasn't in danger. She didn't look fazed, and suddenly Peter felt embarrassed because he remembered May mentioning that all of his teachers now knew about his PTSD.

She had a kind smile and just then he realised he was saying something, "Sorry, what was that? I wasn't all there." Peter said softly. She shrugged, pointing to the locker.

"The lockers here are hard to work out, you need to turn it left before right, then it should work." Peter was surprised, he expected a witty remark about his PTSD and a lecture, but he rose an eyebrow, turning to do as she said. He hummed when it opened.

"Thanks, I was considering punching it if I'm honest," Peter said, the woman chuckled lightly.

"My names Claire, I'm one of the art teachers," She said, Peter rose an eyebrow again.

"Do you have a last name, Claire?" Peter said. She let out another one of her airy chuckles.

"I do, but I prefer to be called by my first name, makes me feel old when kids only a couple of years younger then I call me by my last name." She said. Peter hummed, thinking of Tony.

"Yeah, someone I know always says that." Peter almost slipped up and called him dad, Tony didn't know he thought of him as a father-figure. Peter didn't really remember how it happened, although it did.

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Prozac, Zoloft, Tenex, Peter repeated in his head. The nurse handed him two pills in a cup, he looked up at her.

"One of them is missing." He said simply. It was his third week here and somehow they always forgot the third pill, always the Tenex. He really didn't understand why he had to take them at the sickbay, but he did. The nurse looked at him confused, Peter huffed showing her the pills.

"You've given me my Prozac and Zoloft, but not the Tenex. I need the take the Tenex with the other two or they don't work." She nodded, opening the Tenex box, Peter winced when it ripped. He huffed, making a show of taking the pills before walking out of the sickbay without a backward glance. He hated that he had to take them, but they were helping. He sighed when he realised he didn't have anyone to sit with, usually, he'd sit with Ned and MJ, but he couldn't do that anymore. Transferring senior year is the worst, by then people already have friend groups and no one wants to welcome you in.

Peter, of course, sat in the cafeteria alone, May made a habit of checking with the teachers if Peter ate, so he settled with eating his lunch. He thrived on schedule, so he made his own lunches now, his skin crawled when he had to interact with more adults them necessary. He picked at his food as he pulled out his notebook, it was habit now; ignoring the whispers while he ate and drew. It was nice, but he couldn't help but feel a little like MJ, drawing whatever he saw. But it was fun it made him smile, he had quite a lot of drawings of New York, and the labs, and inside the towers. He had a couple of his friends, he had a really good one of MJ and Ned together. Today he was drawing the team, him and May. It took up two whole pages, but he loved the photo he was going off. It was them on his first day before he moved here, he was even smiling in the photo.

He jumped when someone put their hand on his shoulder, dropping his sandwich in fright, gripping the pencil tightly in his hand. Looking up quickly and tucking his hair behind his ear. May kept insisting that he cut it but he refused to, he liked that he wasn't recognisable, or that no one could see him. He frowned when he saw Claire, she was a little too bright and Peppy, she worked at a school for god's sake.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you, but you weren't responding and I was worried you were having an episode." Peter hummed, Claire was nice enough, she was understanding and had helped Peter out a lot in the three weeks he'd been there.

"I saw you drawing, and I was just wondering if I could take a look at your notebook. I'm always looking for new recruits for my class." Claire said. Peter shrugged, putting own his pencil and handing her the notebook, she flipped through it with a large smile on her face. She stopped near the front, Peter recognised the page. It was full of colour, it was one of his favourites, MJ let him draw her while they were at the park.

"These are amazing Petey!" She exclaimed. This earned a few glancing from the other tables, everyone knew Peter never let people see inside his notebook, not that they knew what he was always doing in it. Peter just shrugged as she handed it back. Claire sat next to him, ignoring as Peter made a face at her.

"Do you always have to do that?" He said. Claire made a habit of sitting next to him at lunch and talking to him.

"Well, you sit alone at lunch, who else do you have to talk to." She quipped, spreading out across the seat, making Peter roll his eyes and move away from her. She looked up at him seriously.

"Peter, I think you should move to my art class. You have such amazing talent, and you have a future in art." claire said, Peter narrowed his eyes at her a little, not many people other then May and Tony had seen his drawings, he wasn't sure if she was serious.

"Ok, and if I do yo have to promise to never ever call me Petey again," Peter said, smiling when she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Deal."

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Tony and Peter were in the lab again, Peter was at the compound for the weekend, he suddenly had a thought.

"Hey, Tony?" Peter said, he cringed every time he said it, Tony wouldn't let him call him anything other than Tony or dad now, not since Peter slipped up during a breakdown. Tony hummed from the other side of the lab, Peter knew he was listening.

"Does the compound have anywhere I can paint?" Peter asked. Claire had assigned the class a task, they had to portray their essence, whatever that meant. May complained whenever he painted in the apartment, it always stunk up the rooms. Tony stopped what he was doing to turn in his seat to look at Peter, who was furiously trying to continue the coding, he was embarrassed by the question.

"Since when did you paint?" Tony asked. Peter shrugged again.

"Usually I'd do it in the apartment but May's been telling me I need to do it somewhere else," Peter said. Tony shrugged.

"There's an art room third level, what're you painting?" Tony asked, wheeling closer to Peter.

"Just a thing for school, I have to write an essay on what I do too. I dropped ethics so I could do art." Peter said.

"Coolio," Tony said, drumming on his knees. Peter looked up at him.

"Why are you over here?" Peter asked accusingly.

"What, I can't just spend time with my son?" Tony said.

"You blew something up didn't you?" Peter asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah, can you help me?"

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Claire had somehow managed to convince Peter to get up on stage and talk about his painting. He was currently standing on the stage next to his painting with a microphone in his hand, and he almost bailed until he saw Tony give him the thumbs up. He hardened his face and raised the microphone. The painting was beautiful, he did a portrait on him, and did the details with words, the background was a bur of colour.

"I was asked to write about my essence, and don't worry I didn't know what that meant either when I was told that." He smiled when the crowd laughed, "In reality, it just means who you are, and I realised the one thing I can't live without is my schedule. If I don't have my schedule I spiral and struggle to function. I'm guessing everyone remembers that meltdown I had last week third period?" There were a couple muttered yes's in the crowd.

"Well, it happened because I forgot my lunch, something so simple can trigger terrifying and horrible flashbacks cause by several traumatic experiences I've had. I struggle to do a lot of things, loud noise, lots of people, touch. But I think what I struggle with most of all is lack of structure. On my third day here I had to go home early because my third period class got cancelled and I panicked. I panicked because I was so scared of being hurt again. I'm guessing your confused by that statement so I'll explain." Peter took a deep breath, looking at TOny for support.

"There was a man, who I trusted and looked up to. He was my Chemistry teacher for the fourth year running, and he had never said or done anything that made me weary or mistrusting of him. But then one day that changed, a simple flash of a smile and encouraging words were enough to get me to stay back after class. But that flashy smile and kind remarks soon were what I was scared of. I was sexually assaulted as many times at sixty times over the course of three months. By that teacher, who I trusted." There were gasps int he audience, and Peter felt himself wanting to bail again, but he saw Claire's encouraging smile.

"Schedule is so important to me because it makes me feel safe like no one can hurt me like that ever again. And sometimes it's so frustrating, but it's me, it's my essence." Peter swiftly turned off the microphone and put it back on the stand, easily picking up his painting and walking off the stage with it. He hastily avoided the eyes and walked out of the hall, fleeing to the art rooms, he knew that only Claire and Tony would be able to find him there. He carefully put his painting down on an easel before sitting on one of the seats, bringing his knees up to his chest.

He turned when Tony came rushing into the room, pulling off his sunglasses worriedly. If Claire knew who Tony was she didn't act surprised. Tony quickly rushed over and enveloped Peter in a hug. Tony was one of the few people who Peter let touch him.

"You ok Underoos?" Tony said, concern lacing his voice.

"Yeah, I'm ok. I felt good, to let it out." Peter said quietly. Tony pulled back and placed his hands on Peter's shoulders.

"I'm proud of you." Was all Tony said, before pulling Peter towards him again, placing a firm kiss on his forhead. As Tony led Peter out of the room, he swore he could see tears in Claire's eyes, but he wasn't going to mention it.