Hello, all.

I'm rewatching USM and I just finished the Into the Spider-Verse episodes. And then I randomly got inspiration to sit down and write this. It only took about 3 hours and this is a post-Spider-Verse pt 4 fic. If you want to read more post-episode fics check out some of my other stories.

Enjoy.

TRIGGER WARNING: Panic attacks


Peter slammed his head back against the wall.

Panic.

Too much. Too much at once.

He clutched his head, letting out a strangled gasp.

Everything hurt.

He was covered in bruises, his ribs were bruised, he was covered in electrical burns, he was scraped up, cut here, sprained there, his entire body screamed at him every time he moved.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't process. He couldn't think.

A harsh sob escaped his mouth.

There were more of him.

There were more of him.

That terrified him.

All of those people were different versions of himself. And it was very likely that he could turn into one of those other versions of himself. It wouldn't even be hard. There were only slight changes that would have had to happen in order for his life to have gone in a completely different direction.

He was second-guessing everything.

What if he ended up pushing away his aunt and his friends?

What if he quit being Spider-Man? It had almost worked when Nightmare had tempted him to do so.

What if he died?

His breaths quickened again. They were harsh and shallow and only left him feeling more lightheaded.

Goblin had found out his identity. At the time he had told Goblin he could handle it; just like he had handled everything else.

Peter Parker had lied.

He couldn't handle it. Internally he was freaking out. But he couldn't deal with that at the moment. There were plenty of other things that were far more of a priority at the time. But now? It was all he could think about.

Goblin had found out his identity. And there were so many other close calls to villains finding it out. He couldn't even count the number of times Ock had almost succeeded.

He got lucky this time with the fact the Norman didn't remember; but what if he had? What would he do if another villain found out his identity? What could happen to Harry, and MJ, and Aunt May?

What if one of them died because of him?

He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his sobs. He didn't want to wake Aunt May. He had already checked on her earlier, but all that had done was send his brain further out of control.

Peter gripped his head, stumbling in through the front door. Tonight had way too many close calls. His body was bruised and battered, and everything hurt. Connors barely let him go tonight, but he had insisted on going home to Aunt May. Also because he could feel he was on the verge of a full-blown freak-out and he did NOT need that to happen on the Tricarrier or around Connors, or Fury or the team.

He cringed at the thought of it.

He made his way up the stairs, taking a shaky breath at the top.

He had almost died tonight.

He had almost died.

An image of a tombstone flashed through his brain, with his name on it.

His stomach twisted at the image of it.

He laid his hand on Aunt May's doorknob, silently turning it and opening the door.

He looked at his aunt's peaceful face as she slept.

It only made his stomach churn more.

He had almost died.

He would have left Aunt May completely alone.

He barely closed her door and made it to his room before his breath hitched, and his knees slammed into the floor as he lost control.

His shoulders shook uncontrollably as he curled further in on himself.

How could he leave Aunt May alone? How could he put her through that again?

His hand tightened around his mouth to stifle his growing sobs and erratic breaths.

What if Spider-Girl and Spider-Ham hadn't been able to divert the old hellicarier? It would have killed who knows how many people, and then there would suddenly be two worlds without their spideys.

He saw a headstone with his name carved into it. "No, you don't understand. I mean, Woah."

What happened to that world's Aunt May? And poor Miles. He was only thirteen and he'd already gone through more than anyone should have to, bearing that kind of weight. To be fair though, Peter wasn't much older when he was bitten and his uncle had died.

Warm salty tears spilled out of his eyes, burning the cuts and raw skin on his face.

He was vaguely aware of his phone buzzing, but couldn't bring himself to care.

Everyone was fine. Everyone was back in their own worlds. Norman was no longer the Goblin. Electro was in SHIELD custody. New York hadn't blown up, and everyone had survived.

But those thoughts didn't seem to comfort Peter at all. There was so much that could have happened, so much he hadn't had time to process, he was injured, and the pressure he'd been feeling to hold everything together and not completely lose it all day was finally crushing him now that he was alone in his room.

His door creaked open. His eyes flew up to meet the intruder's. His breath hitched, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Geez, Pete. What happened?"

Time skipped for a moment and the next thing he knew, he was heaving for breath again, sobs coming out in between rigid gasps, as a hand rubbed his back.

"Hey, Pete. It's alright. Just breathe." Peter sucked in a harsh breath. His lungs burned.

"That's it. C'mon, Pete. Just breathe."

Peter tried to just focus on the hand on his back. To just block out all other thoughts. To just not think. His enhanced senses easily picked up on the breathing of the person next to him as he tried to copy their even, steady breaths.

His thoughts swirled and crowded together trying to suffocate him. He leaned into the person next to him. He just wanted to block out the world. To turn his brain off and just not think.

Peter's breath wavered.

Breathe.

Breathe. He could breathe. He wasn't dead. He wasn't dying. He was alive, and he could breathe. He didn't leave his friends or his aunt. He could breathe. New York didn't blow up. All the worlds had their right spideys back. He could breathe.

He could breathe.

He sucked in a full breath of air, before releasing it. His chest fully expanded and deflated. Good. It no longer felt like there was a crushing weight on his chest every time he tried to get air.

He could breathe.

Just breathe.

Breathe.

He focused on the hand rubbing his back to ground him.

Breathe.

His whole body was tired and shaky from coming off the adrenaline rush. His wounds and sore muscles protested at every moment, but at least he could breathe now.

"Pete?"

It took him a second to find his voice.

"Yeah, Har?"

"You okay?"

Peter paused. "Yeah," he said, pushing himself into a sitting position so that he wasn't just leaning against Harry. He scrubbed at his eyes. "Yeah, I'm good Harry."

This wasn't the first time this had happened. No, the first time was much worse. It was right after his uncle had died. Peter didn't know what was going on, Harry didn't know what was going on, and didn't know what to do. Peter didn't know what to do either.

One minute they had been sitting on the couch playing a video game and the next Peter had been on the floor crying hysterically trying to breathe.

It hadn't been pleasant, and that hadn't been the last time it happened. There were several more times after that that Peter had had panic attacks. Sometimes it was PTSD and something reminded him a little too much of that night his uncle died. Other times his heightened senses overwhelmed him and everything just became too much.

Harry didn't even always know what triggered it, because Peter couldn't exactly explain that he had heightened senses or that patrol last night had been bad. Really bad.

Regardless though he didn't ask for an explanation, and he had gotten so much better at helping Peter than the first time when his own hands were shaking and he was terrified himself and he didn't know what to do at all. Now he knew how to help ground Peter, help him remember to breathe, wrap an arm around him to remind him that he wasn't alone, talk about annoying things his teachers have said or things his dad had done or something from a movie he had been watching recently to distract Peter and let him calm down and have something to focus on other than his whirling thoughts.

Peter didn't always explain what triggered it, or what happened. Sometimes he would say something had triggered it, or if he let stress pile up for too long he'd have one. Sometimes he'd explain that everything was just too much. Either way, Harry tried his best to help him and be there when he could.

"Har, why are you here?" Peter croaked, drawing his arms and legs closer, scooching slightly away from Harry so that he wasn't right next to him.

Physical touch helped to ground him during the actual attack, but Peter wasn't huge on physical affection and in general liked his space.

"I had texted a few hours ago with news about my dad, and you didn't answer so I came to tell you in person, but no one answered the door. I tried calling you but you didn't answer, and the door was unlocked, so, uh, yeah," Harry said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

Peter just nodded silently, shutting his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

"What was it this time?"

"Prob'ly stress," Peter murmured, not quite having enough energy to have a whole conversation yet.

"What about your dad?" Peter asked not even opening his eyes.

"Pete, he's, he's back to normal. The Goblin is completely gone and he's been cured.

Peter looked over at him. He looked so tired, but his eyes showed how relieved he felt.

"Harry, that's awesome."

"Yeah. Spider-Man saved him and took him to the hospital. I went to visit him for a few hours but he wasn't really coherent yet. I'm going back in the morning and I was wondering...if you'd come with me?"

Peter gave him a lopsided smile. "Of course, Harry. I'm glad your dad's back normal."

"Yeah, well mostly anyway...They think he may have some memory loss. The last few years mostly. Like I said, he wasn't very coherent when I saw him, but he had been more awake earlier when they were doing the tests or whatever. But if that's true, that means he won't even remember Venom, or Goblin, or anything like that, and we can just go back to being normal."

Harry could've sworn he saw guilt flash across Peter's face, but it was replaced so quickly with a smile that he wondered if it'd ever really been there.

"Harry, that's great. I'll definitely be there with you tomorrow."

The two best friends lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few moments.

"So, you wanna get the air mattress out?"

Peter couldn't help but laugh. "I still don't know why you willingly choose to sleep on an air mattress on my floor instead of your actual bed at home."

"Hey, I can be normal every once in a while. I can stoop down to a peasants level and-"

Peter elbowed him, snickering. "Shut up."

Harry grinned back.

It looks like they'd both be alright.


In case you were wondering, The SHIELD doctors had already done an evaluation earlier on Norman before Harry got there which is how they knew he had memory loss and how Peter already knew before Harry told him.

Hope you guys enjoyed this one-shot. Doing this quick little one-shots have really helped me to get back into the writing game. Expect more updates to fics coming soon, and I'm working my way through revising all my old stories so stay tuned for that as well. ;)

Feel free to review or PM me.

Love you guys! Bye!

~SunshineGirl14