Avengers Requests and Oneshots (Requests Open)

Nightmare - Peter P.

Summary: His hair was a mess, and the usual bags under his eyes were present, just as they always were. They were the affects of sleepless nights caused by nightmares, I knew. I had a matching set.

Pairings: None

Genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff

Rating: T

TW: nightmares, flashbacks, minor description of a panic attack

The sheets of the expensive bed felt too restricting. My soft clothes clung to my skin, throughly soaked through with sweat. Sweat beaded along my upper lip and brow and matted my hair. My breathe came in huffs, never quite getting a lung full of air. It felt as if my chest was being crushed. I could feel everything. Every fiber of the expensive silk sheets rubbed against my skin like sandpaper, making my skin crawl.

I shoved off the duvet and slid to the floor, trying to find an escape from the crushing pressure in my chest. I grabbed at the center of my chest, desperate to get air back into my lungs. I couldn't see anything but the pile of ruble that lay on top of me, stealing the air from my lungs. The Vulture was screaming in my ears, telling me I was nothing, nothing without that suit.

"Look at the itsy bitsy spider," he taunted. "Unable to get himself out of a little bit of rubble," he sneered. "You're nothing without the suit. Well, have a nice life, Mr. Parker." The words continued to play themselves over and over again in my head relentlessly. I brought my knees up to my chest, curling in on myself, trying to find an escape from the mental torture. Hot, sticky tears dropped down my cheeks as I sobbed into my arms.

The sound of a door sliding open reached my ears but just barely. My hands disappeared into my hair, pulling at my hair hard. I could sense someone in front of me, but I didn't look up. I couldn't. I couldn't let whoever it was see me in such a state.

Something was suddenly touching my shoulders, and I jumped, letting out a startled screech. The offending object was quickly removed. Flashes of the Vulture and of the rubble were striking against the darkness of the place I was in. There was someone speaking now, but I couldn't put the disembodied voice to a face. It was familiar, in my state of mental disarray, I could not find a match. Slowly, the voice made its way through the frightening images that caused my head to pound painfully.

"-ter. -ter, -ten to -e," I heard, barely being able to put the piece of words I had managed to grasp and put them together into a coherent sentence. I could only groan loudly at the person who was speaking to me. Or at least it was loud to my over sensitive ears. Everything was too loud right now. The humming of the AC, the person talking to me, all the other electronics running throughout the building. Oh, a building. The warehouse. I groaned loudly again, trying to convey my fear to the person in front of me. I needed saved, I needed taken away form this place.

My tongue get like cotton inside my mouth, and I was unable to get it to work, to even get a single word out. I couldn't breath, the combination making me panic even more. With unfeeling hands, I grabbed blindly for the person in front of me. Even in my frenzied state, I knew the person here, right in front of me, was not going to hurt me. I knew the voice that had previous been speaking to me, and it felt safe and warm if a voice could have those qualities.

My hands were met with soft fabric, and I latched onto it in an act of desperation. I cried out loudly at the comforting feeling, forgetting the embarrassment I had previously been feeling. I was so scared. I just wanted to be safe. And this person was safe. I knew I'm the very back of my mind that this was the embodiment of safety.

The panicking part of me screamed to get away from this person because the firm grip on my shoulders was restricting, just like the destroyed warehouse. The other, more rational, side of me told me to trust this person, just like I had so many other times before. The person holding me was rocking me back and forth slightly as if they might do with a restless infant. A strong hand was running up and down my back, giving me something to ground myself with.