An-While on a mission, Peter gets injected with a solution that makes him hallucinate

An-I CRIED WHILE WRITING THIS

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"So you're telling me in about thirty minutes I'm going to start hallucinating?!" Peter shouted furiously. It was Steve's fault he got hit with the stuff, he pushed Peter in the way and he got injected instead. Steve looked sheepish as he looked away from Peter. Bruce winced at Peter's tone but blinked away his shock. Peter wasn't one to shout.

"Unfortunately," Bruce said, wincing when Peter scowled at him.

"Is there anything we can do to get it out?" He asked, far calmer now, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No. It has to run its course." Bruce said. Peter was suddenly terrified, what if he saw Ben? Or his parents? What if he said or did something embarrassing? Peter sighed, thinking it through in his head.

"Okay, well, first of all, Captain, fuck you right to hell. And second of all, someone please tie me down." Peter said, not at all happy. Steve looked away from Peter again sheepishly.

"You're serious?" Bucky asked, Peter nodded quickly, "Why?!" Bucky asked again, Peter frowned at him.

"You want to be the one explaining to Fury why you let me break something?"

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Peter was now tied to a chair with power proof ropes, in an observation room, the whole team was on the other side of the glass. Peter sighed, he was supposed to be seeing something by now. He was wondering whether the toxin had actually done anything, although he was staring at his lap.

"You seeing anything?" He heard Bruce say over the speaker. Peter looked up and saw them, his parents, standing there like he hadn't seen the light fade out of their eyes that night. His mother was dressed in one of the floral sundresses she always did, and his father was in his crisp white button-down tucking into his black slacks, tie hanging lazily. He tasted the bile rising in his throat, his breath caught in his throat.

"If my dead parents standing in front of me is anything to go by, I would say yes." He said softly, watching as they walked forward toward him, he suddenly regretted letting the team tie him down because now he was stuck in the chair as they walked forward.

"What do you mean Peter? Where as alive as day!" His father said cheerily, Peter shook his head frantically, pushing his back firmly onto the back of the chair.

"N-no, y-you aren't real!" He shouted, pressing harder onto the chair. His father rested a hand on Peter's shoulder, making his jerk away from it, terror in his eyes.

"Honey we're right here." His mother said gently.

"No, no, no, no." He muttered, "You-you died when I was ten, in the plane crash, I was there. I watched you die!" He shouted in their faces, they stepped back, puzzled looks on their faces.

"Sweetie, what are you talking about?" His mother said softly, Peter shook his head frantically, tears welling up in his eyes, and spilling down his cheeks.

"W-we were going to the UK, for my birthday, and-and the plane crashed, and I was the only survivor," Peter sounded like he was trying to convince himself more then anyone else, "I watched you die! You were holding my hand and you told me everything was going to be ok!" Peter screamed, pulling at the bonds around his wrists harder, trying to wrench his hands out of them.

"But everything's not ok!" He shouted, pressing himself into the chair further, trying to get away from his mothers extending hand stroking his cheek.

"No, no, please don't touch me." He pleaded, he wished he could just close his eyes forever and forget their faces.

"Petey you're ok, we're here now." His mother said softly, Peter shook his head.

"No. No. You're not real, you're not real. You're dead, you're buried in the cemetery near Uncle Ben's and Aunt May's apartment. I was there! I was at the funeral!" He shouted, his jaw clenched hard, his neck taut.

"Sport you're not making any sense." His father said softly. Ruffling Peter's hair, when Peter looked down he wasn't seventeen anymore, he was ten, and his voice was small.

"N-n-no, you're gone, I'm seventeen and I go to Midtown High School, and I live with Aunt May and I work at Stark Industries." He pleaded, hating how his tiny voice crackled. His father just chuckled softly.

"Peter we aren't playing make-belief, you're our little boy." His father looked behind Peter briefly, looking at something over his shoulder, paying no mind to Peter who was slumped in the chair, breathing ragged and strained, "Come here Ben he's not making any sense." Peter almost threw up when his father said that, his head shot up and he craned to look behind him. Tears started spilling out of his eyes again when he took on his appearance. He was in the same clothes as when he died; his crisp Police uniform, he'd just become Captain of the precinct when he got killed. He'd picked Peter up from school in a happy daze and asked Peter to come to the grocery store with him on his way home from school. Suddenly Peter's body was thirteen again, all voice cracks and skinny.

"What's got you in a twist, Benny?" Ben said. Peter would have smiled if he weren't hearing it like that because no matter how real they looked and how real they felt, they weren't. He had wished hundreds upon thousands of times to hear Ben call him that again. When he was little it made him giggle and smile, but right now all he could do was let out a broken sob, dropping his head to his chest.

"Woah there bud." Be soothed, picking Peter's head up with his hands, holding Peter's head in his hands, "What's up champ?" Ben said softly. Peter just let out another sob, the nicknames and tone made him want to scream and cry, but the noises were caught in his throat as his eyes flickered around Ben's face.

"You aren't real, as much as I want you to be, you aren't." He said softly. Ben looked at him puzzled, pressing a kiss onto Peter's forehead, moving his wild curls aside.

"I'm right here bud, I'm not going anywhere," Ben said softly, hugging Peter around his shoulders, Peter shook his head into his shoulder, his body shaking with his sobs.

"You-you died. I heard the shot, and, and you took the bullet for me." Peter cried into his shoulder, "It all happened so quickly, one second we were talking about Ned and school, the next you were one the floor. I remember the colour of your blood, it was so bright and vibrant, and you were still warm when I pulled you into my lap." Peter said, crying harder when Ben squeezed him in his arms.

"You-you didn't stop smiling, and you put your hand on my face, you didn't even realise you were smearing blood on me. You were coughing up blood and, and it was everywhere, I was on the floor, it was in your clothes, it was in my clothes. My skin was wrinkly with it after they got me in the ambulance. They said I was in shock. You were so calm, but you were dying."

"Shh, shh, bud you're ok, it was just a bad dream." Ben soothed, Peter just shook his head frantically.

"No, no, it's not a dream. You're dead, and you're never coming back." Peter whispered, screwing his eyes shut. He only opened them when he felt the pressure around his shoulders disappear, the tears stopped and he felt a surge of unbearable grief and anger. He looked around himself, his mum dad and Ben were gone. He drew in a shaky breath and looked up at the window.

"Someone get me out of these fucking ropes." He growled when the door opened behind him and revealed Bruce, who checked his pulse, which was rapid.

"Didn't I ask you to get me out of the ropes?" He growled again, Bruce sighed.

"Look, Pete, I know you want nothing more than to get out of them but I need to check that it's out of your system before I let you go." Peter jerked away from him.

"I just talked to my dead parents and Uncle who I watched die. If you get me out of these ropes right now I will do anything." Peter pleaded, tears slipping out of his eyes again, "Please Bruce." He whispered. Bruce sighed and complied, untying the ropes for Peter, who brought his hands to his lap, looking at his wrists which were cut up and bleeding. He vaguely felt Bruce pull him up from the chair and guide him out of the room. He was still staring at his hands, it was so real, he could almost feel the lingering touch of his mothers hands in his own. When Bruce sat him down on a bed in the med bay he looked up, he didn't even realise they had left the floor.

"Let's get those cuts cleaned," Bruce said gently, pulling Peter's wrists towards him, cleaning the cuts up with a damp cotton pad. When he looked past Bruce he saw the team staring back at him, his eyes automatically found Steve's.

"If you ever, ever do anything like that on a mission ever again, I'll kill you myself," Peter said, dangerously quiet, and Steve knew he meant it. Steve just nodded and looked away. Peter turned back to Bruce who was wrapping his wrists in an ace bandage.

"Were they supposed to be so real?" He asked softly, "They felt real, they were walking and talking, and when they touched me it felt like they were real, their hands were warm." He said quietly, Bruce almost cried at his tone.

"Well, the file did say that the hallucinations were supposed to trigger an emotional response," Bruce said, placing Peter's hand in his lap, Bruce sighed putting a hand on Peter's knee.

"I knew they weren't real, but they were so real at the same time. They were wearing clothes like they used to, and they were talking like they used to, and they, they called me the names they used to when I was little." Peter said, curling his fingers into fists. Bruce sighed, knowing Peter wouldn't be able to move for a while, he had a panic attack while he was in the room.

"They mostly manifested from memory," Bruce said, watching as Peter nodded.

"My parents died when I was ten, and my uncle when I was thirteen. I watched them die, and there they were, calling me their little boy again. And, and Ben used the nicknames he always used to when I was little." Peter said tiredly. Bruce nodded.

"I know kid, but you're okay, you're at the compound and you're here. You don't ever have to go through that again." Tony said, stepping forward to hug Peter, who buried his head in his shoulder, "Come on let's get you to bed." Tony said gently.

"Can't move," Peter said. Tony sighed, waving Steve forward, Peter just threw Steve a sour glare, shaking his head at him, refusing to be picked up by Steve. Bucky sighed and stepped forward, he was the only other one that could pick Peter up.

"It can happen after a panic attack, I've already told your aunt what happened, you're staying here tonight," Tony said gently, rubbing Peter's head. Peter hummed curling into Bucky slightly.

"If you drop me I'll kill you," Peter muttered into his chest, Bucky couldn't help but snort.

"I think I'll be fine, we're almost at your room already," Bucky said, Natasha stepped forward and opened the door for them. Bucky plopped Peter down on his bed, Tony stepped forward and helped Peter under his sheets, thanking god Peter was already in sweats and a tank top.

"Can someone stay with me? I don't want to be alone." Peter asked shyly, hugging one of his pillows to his chest. Tony sat next to his on the bed, the rest of the team followed, finding somewhere on Peter's bed.

"We'll all stay with you."