Arachnophobia Peter stood on a chair in the middle of his room, frantically trying to decide what the hell he was supposed to do.
Call Tony?
That seemed ridiculous.
And seriously, where had a spider come from on the eighty-eighth floor of a high-tech tower?
Not him, obviously.
Peter doubted he would ever forget the path that had brought him into this Tower.
But the disgusting black arachnid with far too many legs definitely did not belong here.
Peter desperately hoped the spider would realize there was nothing for it in the room and crawl away.
Hey, why was it not moving toward the door?
God, why was it coming closer?
Peter felt a wave of irrational fear and might have stopped breathing a little.
The last thing he needed was another encounter with a spider.
Seriously.
“Peter, your heart rate has increased, indicating the beginning of a panic attack.
I am notifying Boss.” Peter would never admit it aloud, but he was grateful to F.R.I.D.A.Y.
Now he did not have to call Tony himself.
When Tony arrived, Peter only needed to invent a reasonable excuse for why he had climbed onto a chair in terror.
And hope Tony got rid of the spider.
Tony appeared within a minute.
He looked confused at first as he studied the frightened child, then relaxed when he spotted the cause.
He picked up the spider without asking unnecessary questions and ignored the way Peter went pale when the arachnid’s body touched his hand.
Then he left.
The only thing he said before walking out did not sound much like a question.
Technically it was one, of course, but Tony already knew the answer.
“Arachnophobia?” Peter nodded uncertainly.
He waited until Tony left the room, then climbed down from the chair.
Tony had gone, yes, but Peter knew with absolute certainty he would ask about it later.
And Peter was damn grateful, because God knew he was not ready to talk about it now.
*************** *************** *************** *************** *************** *************** Seismophobia New York was almost entirely safe in that regard.
Peter could remember perhaps five earthquakes in the city over the last three hundred years, and only because they had come up in history class.
He had personally been present for two, and he had only learned from the newspapers that they had actually been earthquakes.
Of course.
He had not possessed those awful heightened senses back then.
Now he did, and Peter checked the seismic activity forecast for the coming week with a quiet sense of panic every time.
So when he saw a damned earthquake warning insisting there was no reason to worry, that it would only be a little over magnitude two, that most people would not feel anything at all, Peter began to feel sick.
The solution came naturally.
Tony was wonderful at handling everything.
He could handle this too.
Stark was barely surprised when his child crept quietly into the laboratory carrying a pillow.
Tony had, after all, checked the same forecast.
“I’m going to sleep in here, okay?” Tony nodded, but seriously, why did the child bother asking?
He knew perfectly well Stark was incapable of refusing him.
Peter lay down on the couch.
He could already feel that horrible humming in his ears and gave Tony a questioning look.
Stark casually wiped the machine oil from his hands, dropped onto the couch beside him, and pulled the child into his arms.
Peter stayed silent for several minutes, trying not to flinch when the first tremors began.
Tony really did help.
“It’s called seismophobia,” Peter added suddenly.
“I know.” Peter did not need to look at Tony to know he was smiling softly before burying a hand in Peter’s hair.
All right.
Now he could sleep.
*************** *************** *************** *************** *************** *************** Claustrophobia Peter stared distrustfully at the ride the Avengers had rushed toward as though their heels were on fire.
They were like little children.
Honestly.
Peter would have rushed after them too, but who in their right mind had designed a ride shaped like a cave?
Underground?
Perhaps it really was fun, but Peter had no desire to go down there.
He exchanged a look with Tony, who, surprisingly, did not seem eager to descend into it either.
After a little thought, Peter uncertainly tugged Stark in another direction.
“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel.” It was not a question, so Tony calmly allowed Peter to lead him away from the unpleasant place.
Only when they were sitting inside a cabin at the very top did it occur to Tony that this might not have been the best alternative.
Claustrophobia meant fear of enclosed spaces, and although the cabin was made of glass, it did not exactly qualify as ‘open air.’ As though hearing his thoughts, Peter frowned slightly while continuing his effort to eat cotton candy without covering himself in sugar.
“I’m afraid of enclosed spaces that are dark, locked, and underground,” he said with a quiet snort, watching Tony.
“It’s a very specific form of claustrophobia.
Caves.” Tony decided this was neither the time nor the place to discuss it further.
Besides, why would they need to?
They both knew where the fear came from.
They both knew Peter already had all the support he needed to leave it behind.
*************** *************** *************** *************** *************** *************** Gymnophobia The Avengers were bewildered as they accepted Peter’s fourth refusal to join them at the pool, the sauna, the showers after training, or any other place where everyone was expected to ‘show off their abs.’ Peter wanted to go.
Seriously, it was cool when the Avengers treated him like enough of an adult to invite him to their gatherings.
He was also nauseatingly tired of them refusing to let the matter drop.
Where was Tony when Peter actually needed him?
Every damned time someone on the team suggested one of those outings, there was no Tony Stark around—as though there were several of him—to rescue Peter.
So Peter invented excuse after excuse for why he could not go.
He could hardly say, “Sorry, I don’t join you because I have gymnophobia left over from childhood psychological trauma.
Next time, invite me somewhere everyone keeps their clothes on.
Bye!” It sounded absurd.
God, he could have worshiped Stark when the man appeared at the most perfectly timed moment imaginable.
Peter should remember to prepare a basket of flowers and fruit to thank such a saintly person.
One glance at Peter—who looked ready to merge with the wall rather than answer the Avengers—was enough for Tony to understand what his child had stumbled into this time.
And Tony was absolutely not happy that he understood the entire situation.
Because it was genuinely horrifying.
“Tony, a Russian banya is practically a rite of passage,” Barton protested when Tony irritably told everyone to leave the child alone.
“It’s tradition.
Besides, what would we see that we haven’t already?
He runs around the city in spandex.
He can’t be that shy.” Peter barely restrained the urge to point out that spandex and nudity were not the same thing.
He stopped himself in time, realizing he was not prepared to explain this entire nightmare.
“Oh, Barton, you’re always thinking about the wrong things,” Tony drawled mockingly as he placed a reassuring arm around Peter’s shoulders.
“The kiddo is simply worried all of you will go blind from his magnificence.
Right, brat?
Let’s get away from these old men before they die of envy.” Peter smirked and, probably for the first time, did not remind Tony that he was not exactly young either.
He allowed himself to be led away.
Later, when they were back in their private living room and sprawled across the couch, Tony suddenly asked what the phobia was called.
For some reason, admitting it to Tony was neither frightening nor embarrassing.
Probably because Tony understood far too much.
“Gymnophobia,” Peter said after a slight hesitation.
“Again, a specific version.
I’m not afraid of nudity itself.
It’s just… well.
You know.” “Who invents these names?” Tony changed the subject immediately, hoping he would never have to think about it again.
And, admittedly, he seemed to have developed a new phobia of his own: fear of causing Peter’s fears.
It needed a good name.
Otherwise it lacked dignity.
*************** *************** *************** *************** *************** *************** Phonophobia No matter how often Peter insisted he disliked shouting only because of his enhanced hearing, it was obvious that was not entirely true.
It was not true at all, actually.
Though perhaps the hearing was one part of it.
He was simply afraid when people shouted at him, and he had no idea when it had begun.
He had no childhood trauma specifically connected to yelling, and given his lifestyle, he was used to being scolded fairly often.
But shouting?
No, thank you.
So when Steve—clearly terrified after Peter threw himself beneath a hail of bullets—raised his voice while lecturing him, Peter felt that horrible sense that something was deeply wrong.
Why the hell are you shouting, Steve?
When someone saves your life, you are supposed to say thank you.
Peter had a very particular form of phonophobia.
Tony’s condition was much worse.
He wanted to kill people—was mildly angry—whenever he saw someone shouting at his child.
You should probably run, Rogers.
Peter shrank slightly beneath the loud voice and involuntarily remembered the last person who had shouted at him.
That made everything worse, because even the memory of that bastard disturbed his spider-sense.
The panic already tightening around his throat retreated the instant Iron Man landed beside them with a heavy crash.
Peter definitely was not afraid of that loud sound.
“Shut your mouth and step away from him, Rogers.” Tony spoke calmly, but something dangerous lived beneath his voice.
Peter might have compared it to a lion’s growl if he had not been frozen.
Steve seemed to hear it too.
He did not argue.
He simply walked away.
Hopefully he would understand his mistake, admit it, and apologize.
The moment the source of distress disappeared, Peter could breathe again.
Tony suggested going home, changing clothes, and getting ice cream.
Because yes, ice cream was exactly what Peter needed.
Steve came by that evening and apologized for going too far.
Perhaps things were not so bad after all.
*************** *************** *************** *************** *************** *************** +1 Peter sat in the Avengers’ living room and glanced lazily at the television.
The movie was strange and unpleasant.
He did not understand why anyone watched horror films when their real lives were already miserable enough, but Clint had chosen it, and Clint could be strange.
Peter did not entirely understand the plot.
There was a house containing something frightening for every person.
Doctor Who had an episode like that, he thought.
What Peter could not understand was why every character had become obsessed with the idea that they had to enter and conquer their fear.
What was wrong with seeing a therapist, damn it?
“I wonder what would be in my room in a house like that,” Clint mused, prompting everyone else to consider the same question.
Peter flinched involuntarily.
If he entered such a house, every damned room would probably contain something horrible.
So many rooms.
So many fears.
Damn, that felt disgusting.
Was he a superhero or not?
Apparently his reaction had not gone unnoticed, because Natasha suddenly addressed him directly.
Seriously, woman.
You too?
“Is our little spider afraid of anything?” Her question drew everyone’s attention, and Peter turned bright red.
“Come on, tell us.
Don’t worry, we won’t laugh.” Peter was visibly uncomfortable.
Even Tony’s sharp demand that they stop interrogating the child failed to save him.
The entire team was interested now, and there would be no stopping them.
“Oh, come on, Pete.
Don’t be embarrassed,” Sam joined in.
“Just don’t tell me you’re afraid of spiders.” Peter swallowed nervously, trying to understand how Sam had hit the target so quickly.
Judging by the looks everyone exchanged, Peter’s own face had betrayed him.
Damn it.
No one listened to Tony anymore, despite his attempts to make the team behave.
“Spider-Man is afraid of spiders?” Clint raised a skeptical eyebrow.
Peter had already regretted joining a team of tactless idiots approximately thirty times.
“Are you joking?” “Uh, guys, I think I’m going to go.” Peter tried to climb out, but they had surrounded him.
His nerves snapped.
“Damn it.
You’re all idiots.
Yes, I’m afraid of spiders, because after my last encounter with one, I spent an entire day in agony believing I was dying.
Or did you think I received these powers as a gift?” Judging by the way the team’s faces fell, they were already regretting asking.
Tony was furious that Peter had been forced to explain, and he was mentally cataloguing more creative ways to take revenge on the team later.
Peter was about to leave with dignity and slam the door behind him when he stopped.
Why not?
Perhaps this was the only way to make them stop prying forever.
They had refused to leave him alone even after repeated refusals.
“And just so you know, since apparently none of you can resist interrogating me about anything,” Peter said wearily, glancing subtly at Tony.
“Earthquakes and dark, enclosed spaces are on the list too, because a damned building collapsed on top of me.
Shouting, because—sorry for the details—one bastard used to scream at me while beating me.
And I suppose I should mention one more thing for clarity.
Stop inviting me to saunas, because being surrounded by naked people reminds me of being sexually harassed when I was a child.
So yes, forgive me for not being eager to chat about any of that.
And thank you for being so considerate and understanding.” Peter almost felt sorry for them.
The Avengers looked so lost and horrified.
But seriously, it was their own fault.
He was simply tired.
Perhaps now they would finally leave him alone.
Tony watched the child flee the room, then stood to find him.
And probably comfort him.
Though perhaps Peter felt lighter now.
Remembering all of it was painful, but people said talking could help.
What did Tony know?
He had never tried it.
“You knew?” Natasha’s question reached Tony’s back and made him stop.
He turned to look at the Avengers in surprise.
“Of course I knew.
He’s my son.” Idiots were idiots on every continent.
Now Tony needed to find Peter and put on some animated movie about princesses.
Only they could save a person after dealing with this collection of fools.