Foolish

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-Peter's P.O.V-

Loki lead the younger boy up to the roof; Peter's hand on Fenris' head as the trio rode up in the elevator. The atmosphere was silent, and sad. Peter stared at the floor, his attempts at keeping the tears from falling growing weaker as every second passed. FRIDAY was silent on the way up, neither Loki nor Peter having to tell her where they wanted to go.

There was the ding Peter had become so familiar with. It made the tears harder to hold back when he realized just how comfortable he had become with the Avengers, and now he knew that some of them didn't even trust him nearly as much as Peter trusted them. He sat down, slipping his legs through the metal bar fence that was at the edge, and rested his arms on the fence and his head on his arms, his legs dangling off the building.

It was a position that Peter had adapted before, albeit a little bit modified. Usually he'd either be crouching instead of sitting with binoculars in his hands, or on his stomach with a sniper rifle in his hands ready to take out a target.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Loki sit next to him, the God sitting criss cross next to Peter looking out to the city. Fenris laid between them, eyes occasionally glancing to fifteen year old before darting back to Loki, and then the city.

It was loud, but Peter couldn't bring himself to care. To focus on what was going on. He could feel himself slowly let his emotions slip. Finding it easier to just not have emotions rather than deal with them. A survival technique that Peter had used in order to survive most of his life, and now it just felt like second nature.

There was a sniff, and it took Peter a second to realize that he was the one to sniff. "Peter..." Loki whispered sympathetically, with an emotion Peter didn't know on his face.

"I am such an idiot," Peter mumbles, pressing his hands to his eyes. He wanted to disappear.

"No you are not," Loki insists. "You are far from an idiot, Peter Parker. Get that foolish thought out of your mind."

"But I am foolish," Peter argues, taking Loki's word choice. "I was foolish to think I could be comfortable here. Foolish to believe that they trusted me, and foolish to believe that they wanted me here." Peter squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his head against the fence, and moving his hands so they squeezed the bars. He stopped trying to hold back his tears, it was just too much work to do that, and he was emotionally exhausted.

A quiet sob escaped his mouth, and Peter gasped for air as his silent cries didn't echo across the roof. Fenris let out a soft whine, and nudged his head against Peter's thigh. Peter didn't move, his grip still on the metal bars making them warp somewhat.

"I got- got close, and atta- attached," Peter admitted, gasping the words out through chasing his breath. What had he been thinking? Just because someone he trusted was here and earned the trust of the others, didn't mean they trusted him. Didn't mean they actually liked him. He had forgotten what comforting touches felt like, and had mistaken what the Avengers were doing for it. An idiotic mistake on is part.

Loki cautiously put his hand on Peter's shoulder, "You are not foolish." The God said it with such confidence, Peter opened his eyes and peered his eyes to him, "You did not make a mistake in trusting those who gave you safety. You shouldn't have been raised to fear those who gave you a roof over your head. You should not have been raised in fear, and lies. The Avenger shouldn't make you doublethink on if you're safe on a place where you are. They should not make you feel like this, Peter. You are not foolish, Peter. They are the ones who have made a mistake, not you."

By the end of Loki's rant, Peter had turned his head to face the God with pure wonder and disbelief in his eyes. It faintly occurred to Peter that no one could say things like that with such conviction without speaking from their own personal experiences, but he didn't feel as if it was his right to question the person helping him.

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