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dise7se · 4 years

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you can’t make a mistake (on these kind of ice skates)

by spideysforce

It begins like this: MJ and Ned show up to his and May’s apartment first thing in the morning, their incessant knocking on the front door with ushered whispers, “Peter!” followed by even more knocking. HIs heart is beating fast and he gets out of bed, whispering-shouting back at his friends to not wake Aunt May up.

Regrettably, they do wake Aunt May up at 7AM on her Saturday morning off after working 9 shifts in a row at the hospital. May still pulls Ned and MJ into the apartment, telling them she missed them, hugging them good morning and giving Peter the glare for not opening the door sooner. She may be allowing the squad to venture off on their own the winter break of their senior year, but she lays down the ground rules for their trip to the mountains outside of the city, streaked with frozen lakes they’ll venture out to skate in; She expects no blood, no blunt traumas, death, or ice all over the floor of the car.

He felt like a little kid ten years ago, a couple of years living with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He had recently become accustomed to living with them, they began their own traditions. After celebrating Hanukkah and when Peter got out of school for the new year, they would drive out to the mountains to sit in scenic view parking lots, an early morning radio playing exclusive MET players in winter leagues content from their practices. May would set up the trunk, and they’d all squeeze in with the door propped open, huddling close and watching the trees sway. It was breathtaking; Ben usually stood too close to rocky cliffs to capture the perfect photo, propping him up on his shoulders to get the higher angle he couldn’t score himself. The same excited feeling from the night before, the excitement and him not being able to sleep, his stomach does leaps while he watches his friends tow their bags in. It was a meteorshower visible in the night sky, digging his fingers into fresh dirt in the spring, the first snowfall of the season.

“May, are you sure you can’t come with?” Peter asks once more, slouching and pouting his lips. He needs to raise the dramatics, she’s the best ice skater he knows.

“Sorry, baby. It’s my day off, and you three deserve your own fun little trip.” She fastens his puffy jacket on, zipping it up to the top, yet never snagging his chin. He groans once he catches MJ hiding a laugh behind her hand.

“You two are next,” May smiles in a knowing way, “don’t you think I’m going to let my kids go outside in the freezing cold with their jackets unzipped.”

“Of course, Aunt May,” Ned replies with his manners by the Leeds family never failing, standing happily besides Peter and chewing on his morning bagel. MJ sips on her coffee, grabbing Peter’s blue and white snowflake-knitted hat with a pom pom on the top.

“Please, no, MJ,” Peter complains, shaking his head to dodge the hat in her hand, May turning her gaze to Ned and huffing about kids, when Ned shrugs in agreement. “Seriously, you’re messing up my hair that I work so hard to naturally stay this luscious and wavy.”

“You know who you sound like?”

May turns to Peter to give him a very pointed look with a raised eyebrow, and he knows exactly where this is going. “Just like Tony. Always worrying about the hair, the sunglasses, how muscular you look in the Spidey suit.”

“May,” Peter shrieks, his face turning scarlet red while the room erupts into laughter from his friends who are totally betraying him right now. “That was one time in front of the mirror! Don’t get me wrong, I am very muscular in the suit, but you can’t just--”

“Can you just finish putting your hat on and get out of here already, go take your film photos for your photography project,” May presses a kiss to his forehead, gasping and taking a step once she realizes she needs to stay on the tip of her toes to reach him.

“Yes, May,” he says mildly, “ice skating, photos, and back home. No shenanigans.”

With that, she ushers the three of them to the door, reminding them no web fluid experiments in the middle of the woods, skating where they aren’t allowed, or no fighting unsolicited sea monsters, or any monsters at all like last summer. She exhales, her shoulders slumping and she’s giving him the same look that Happy and Tony give him before their spontaneous lectures, notorious anecdotes included. She says more ‘love you’s, sending them on their way.

---

MJ, Peter, and Ned drive May’s 1989 Revolvo outside of the city, taking the open highway to the mountains about an hour out. Peter took the driver’s seat, Ned in the front, and MJ opting to sit in the back with all their skating equipment. The car is full of laughter, music, and chattering in their ears on the drive to the lake, in true Peter Parker ADHD style, MJ and Ned Facetiming Flash and Betty, asking them to meet them on their hike.

The first thing he notices that gives him butterflies is MJ rolling the window down the second they reach the George Washington bridge, letting her curly hair- that usually smells like coconut oil and shea butter- sweep through the wind. His stomach flutters, watching her through the rearview mirror with a wide grin splat across his face, a laughter probably bubbling in her chest like his and Ned’s are full of.

As if his big, doey heart eyes aren’t big enough, he finds Uncle Ben’s old film camera he gifted to Peter secure around her neck, snapping photos across the moving bridge. Of the sky, of him, of Ned, the car besides them on the right that honks angrily at them. He hastily laughs, asking her to get back inside the car before her face freezes.

Why is his heart beating so fast? Why is he beaming so hard at his best friend beside him, pretending to reprimand his best friend in the back of the car?

Once they’re outside of the city, Ned passes a stick of gum to each of them the moment their ears pop from the change in pressure. They argued the entire way about their school advisors, not really knowing what to do next on their way to college. They all remind him of himself in their own way, and he’s starting to miss them already. MJ wants to study law and criminology, with a forensic biology minor. After Ned graduates he wants to study computer engineering, and Peter wishes he was so sure of himself like they were.

He doesn’t offer much.

It’s fine, because his friends have been helping him figure it out, hence them pushing him to apply to this photography scholarship and contest. Every time he dares to bring up a double major in STEM and photography, his advisors laugh in his face and shut him down. They make it nearly impossible to talk, but his friends are there for him and remind him he can go at his own pace, reminding him he has his alter-ego to worry about.

Peter pulls the car off into a dirt road, surprised he even knows how to drive as a Queens dweller. They follow a path, Ned gripping onto his door handle. “Oh, G-d, Peter. Be careful! Look, there’s a squirrel!”

“Ned,” he gulps, Michelle smirking at their cowardice from the backseat of the car.

“Come on, it’s just dirt,” she suggests, and quirks her brow from an idea. Once the car is silent besides the lowered music, she jumps out and yells in Ned’s ear to watch out.

He jumps, yelling, “that isn’t cool!” and throws something back at her while Peter finds a spot on the side of the mountain. He slams on the brakes to shut them up, their petulant arguing coming to an end once they see the scenic rest stop.

As promised, his friends let him push them around and guide them like cattle to get the perfect shots. He crouches across the parking lot away from them, hearing their hushed whispers and laughters about how ridiculous he looks. “It’s for the aesthetic, okay!”

He opts for the colored film, replacing the entire roll of 50 they used just on the drive here. He shuts the back of the film camera, reeling the film roll until it catches, and finds the perfect shot of his friends whispering and slowly becomes entranced by the actual scenic view. He captures the sky from a new perspective, blocking out all of his surroundings.

He shows his friends the sky, he shows them the car headlights shining on their hearts, and the sun shining on their faces. He captures the muddled sunshine through Michelle’s curls, a blush forming on her face from the camera being too close along with Peter holding it.

His heart skips a beat every time he photographs Michelle, finding a new beautiful thing about her to be lovestruck over.

He takes portraits of the both of his best friends, planning on printing all of these photos 100 times to hang them in his room, to give to them, and to place all over the photography critique and display wall. He sat on the cold gravel road and his friends had to dust him off. His photos look how he feels swinging off of buildings at night, finding one billboard sign, like outside of Matt’s apartment that illuminates the entire block in oversaturated neons. There weren’t iron bars and concrete filling the frame like his photos from the city, it was green trees with branches draping above them, brushing across their faces, a palette of turquoise, grays, and greens.

Peter brought color into the achromatic, washed out world.

There was a photograph he knew he was going to print to become poster-sized, the subject blown up huge because he wanted to reach out into the photo itself, not yet developed. He imagines his hands in the chemical infested waters, bleach and fixer pouring down his hands.

Ned and MJ both hang their abdomens off of the large metal railing, rockfall barriers they wrap around, the mountains blurred horizontally in the back. MJ’s hair carefully drapes over the edge of the railing, blowing in the wind. Ned stares past him, suspended in air right behind Michelle. The bars are set impossibly straight, but MJ and Ned’s body destroy the thirds in a beautiful, alluring way. Their arms dared to swing over the edge of the mountainside, throwing them into the flesh if the barred metal wasn’t holding them. Too close to the edge, too close to the sky.

“I got it,” he pants, unbelievably bashed at the one click of the shutter. The focal point is always set to 50mm and an aperture of 1.8.

It was like chemistry, physics, it was Murphy’s Law; Whatever can happen in his film roll, will happen.

He lowers the camera down from his face, MJ and Ned already out of there poses, he finds them smiling at him.

---

As promised in an unsaid way, MJ, Ned, and Peter cling onto each other to get the hang of skating. They each hurt themselves at least once quickly leaning over to lace their own skates leaning out of the car, parking nearby the lake and hiking across the icy-snow to get to the icy lake. The area is empty, and the mountains hover above them through the trees, sending a chill their way.

Not before long after testing the ice themselves and deeming it safe by the signs, they’re gliding along the icy lake and pulling each other down in each desperate tug to stay upright.

Ned points out, “I thought you were good at ice-skating! You’re Spider-Man!”

“Exactly!” he shrieks back, his left leg gliding in front of him causing him to flail his arms to find balance. “I web-swing! I don’t ice skate for a reason.”

Peter clears his throat, gliding over to MJ who watches Ned with a relaxed smile while he skates around the perimeter. Out of the three of them, he picks skating up the quickest, naturally fleeting over the ice with precision. “It’s not nice to hover, you know.”

He whips his head to the side to look at her, his ADHD brain reminding him it’s a joke and she’s messing with him before he falls into his own spiral of self-doubt. He smiles at her, her beige puffy coat covering her chin and she smiles into the enclosed space, looking up at him. Her hands are in her pocket, and he reaches playfully to warm his own hands up in the jacket.

“Uh, so--” he clears his throat, “it’s so cold out, right? I mean, the temperature is around freezing and we spent an hour in the mountains--”

“Yep, cold.”

“I had a lot of fun, like, I know we’re best friends and all and I’d do anything for you guys, but what you both did-- I got the perfect shot. I really did it,” he talks lamely, wondering how he still stumbles over his words around his crush he kissed in Europe. “You know, I’m probably just.. I think I’ll go take more pictures? I’ve never felt so alive and nostalgic taking pictures, and like Uncle Ben used to tell me-- Okay, I can’t take you looking at me like this.”

Amused, MJ smiles with his face too close to hers while they share body heat, hitching her shoulders. “You know I can hear your inner monologue, right?”

“It’s just-- you know, we’re hanging out. It’s not totally lame with me ruining it, we can forget this happened..”

She leans forward, leaning her forehead to his. “Do we have a reason not to?”

Right, yeah. They can do this, he thinks.

The feelings between them are confusing, and even though they’ve kissed, that was probably just a spur-of-the-moment thing, right? He did save her life and their friends, they were scared. And holding hands? That’s what all friends do--

His brain almost can’t process this all at once, and he thinks his cheeks can’t redden even more despite the cold and he’s sure she can see the tip of his ears burning pink--

He scrambles, nearly reeling back in the ice when she plants a kiss on his cheek. Her grin is huge, and she gently takes his hands out of her pockets and skates away, his heart rate struggles and he thinks this is how he’ll faint. From tachycardia.

Ned’s voice fills overhead, and he grabs his camera from the side of the frozen lake to join them again. Persistent chills run down his spine, the misty freeze coming from the ground. They let Peter stand in the middle, lacing their hands together to skate in a chain, disastrously. It was at this moment the teenagers truly regretted not taking skating in Central Park seriously until last year, their skills unabashedly catastrophic, giving it up after they realized they can celebrate winter break inside, baking for everyone in the apartment building.

The three of them realized Peter has his web-shooters equipped to their wrists when Ned clung onto him, nearly slipping and he tugged him up, and in their laughter released a web that shot into the snow across the lake. They stoof, starstruck, and could anyone blame them and their impulsivity? And so, what had started as simple skating to shoot film, documenting their lives beyond a surface-level way.

Ned retreats back to the sidelines, sitting a few feet away in the car on the side after skating for nearly an hour. The three of them pant in exhaustion, massaging their own limbs and stretching. Michelle attempted a jump on the ice while he went to go check on Ned, screeching and landing in an almost-split.

He decided to keep quiet about the slight buzz that begins forming at the back of his head, crediting it to nearly slipping every five seconds on the ice.

“Come take a break with me, I’m about to eat one of our many junk-food snacks until we can get lunch,” Ned offers after, he thinks he noticed the concern on his face from the haywire senses and doesn’t want to alert Michelle. He must suspect the way he starts shivering, too, so he sits in the passenger seat that faces the lake, besides Ned.

Ned looks at Peter, and he simply smiles back because he doesn’t want to worry his best friend. He chucks off his gloves, cleaning the camera from where it sat in ice and says he’ll be right back to take pictures in the smaller icy lake away from them.

He drags himself along the snow, taking big steps to account for the heavy skates on his feet towards the tiny icy lake besides them. He sees Ned and MJ gesture to each other, Michelle nodding her head towards him in concern, who makes eye contact with him and crosses her arms and makes a shivering motion in question. He shakes his head, sending a thumbs-up that he’s okay.

He’s reached the other side of the lake, taking pictures of Michelle skating from another angle in a snow covered patch. He shivers, the incessant cold gripping him. He feels it - a hitch, but it isn’t a shiver from the cold. He’s immediately retreating back when he hears a crunch, a kr, gripping his camera a bit tighter before throwing it to the side and he turns frantically, trying to locate the alert from his legs--

Closing his eyes, he listens to the noise of small ice particles separating, deciding where the safest spot to jump to is, letting his sense direct him somewhere else. He knew he was away from the mini lake, the frozen pond for this reason. It’s technically off the lake, but there must be a small terrain of water and he stumbles around the ice.

His skates are heavy on his aching feet, the snow seeping in from the sides that’s a few inches high, his heart racing in pure adrenaline. “MJ. Get off the ice now. Get off.”

“Peter, what--”

The glaze, icy surfaces are cracking beneath him, atoms shaking. His senses won’t stop screaming at him frantically, not guiding him except for up, and it might be too late to send his web-shooters above him, the shooters in the car with his gloves. He doesn’t have enough time to warn them to grab his web shooters for him before he’s crashing into the ground, through ice and water.

He suspends in the water, the cold engulfing his entire body, it’s unlike any cold he’s felt before, even after being trapped in snow after a fight with Mysterio. It’s unthinkable, striking his entire body. He blindly panics, pitch black in his vision and his throat burns raw as he screams.

Get up, get up, get up-- swim, swim--

His body is being carved out by millions of pinpricks, the cold seeping into his body and chilling his bones and the shock gouges his brain. The skates cause him to be less buoyant, his heavy legs scraping ice and getting stuck with each desperate kick and flutter to get to the surface.

He watches the bubbles rise up in the water from his mouth, screaming he can’t hear himself underwater. He didn’t have the chance to suck in a breath, his exhalation running out and twisting and tearing at his lungs. Each cell screams breathe--

He can’t hear anymore.

Loud ringing replaces his senses, he reaches blindly upwards and his heart rattles in his chest. The freezing temperature below the ice seizes his body. He jackknifes upwards, realizing his movement is clumsy and unreflexive.

His left skate becomes stuck in a chunk of ice, and he’s back in Europe for a moment. Heat blindly covers his face, the sensation all lost. Behind his closed eyes, a hot summer heat casts over him, but he’s being burned from Mysterio sending fire his way. He’s on Titan again, cells ripping to shreds again.

He lets himself succumb to the drowsiness, reaching up once last time to feel around as the opening of the ice flees. Even if he did make it out, his lungs feel too full in his chest, he’d need to get rid of all the liquid from his lungs fast, hoping he doesn’t asphyxiate.

He thinks he sees shadows dancing above him in the water, he’s hopeful his friends would dare reach inside for him, but it wouldn’t be fair for him. He’s drifting, he slowly diminishes away and he’s so far away from them, a dizzying sunlight blinding him and allowing him to close his eyes once more. His brain shuts off, and his senses stop screaming and allow him to let go - the panic leaves him.

He thinks he’s dreaming when he feels a hand in his, another grabbing his wrist. This can’t be right, he’s about to fall asleep into the world of unconsciousness. He’s too weak to fight the tug upwards, seeing stars all in front of him. A black canvas streaked with colors, twinkling in the night sky. He thinks he hits the air again, but he can’t take a breath in so it must not be real. He feels his body being tossed down onto the ground like a ragdoll, dragging through the snow that feels hot, lava on his skin. Is he eulogizing himself, a cynical last vision that he truly did live?

His vision comes back, he thinks, unable to cough and his legs feel ready to burst inside his body. He’s turned to his side, snowflakes falling from the sky. He thinks he can see very single snowflake in front of him, dancing for him, he thinks behind the ringing he can hear shouting, wake up!

He wants to listen to each voice, millions of seconds passing between each frantic shout. He.. he must be allowed to close his eyes.. He wants to be taken back to the lake after succumbing to rest. He falls, stars accompanying him.

---

MJ’s boots begin to slip on the edge of the ice, bits of icicles falling into the water where Peter thrashes. “Shit, shit, shit,” she cries out, perching herself safely to grab onto his hand in the water with Ned searching frantically for his web-shooters and anything else they can use to pull Peter out of the water with.

After a minute, she’s dragging him out of the water with newfound strength, watching his blue body retreat from the water and she screams out, sobbing now. She won’t give up. She won’t give up on him, Aunt May, or on them.

“Hang off, babe, I’ve got you,” she says, looking down at him as he desperately tries to gasp for air. She begins chest compressions, unable to think. She never thought she’d be fast on the spot for an emergency, but she thinks she screams at Ned to call 911, forgetting he’s still on the line with them.

Once she gets a pulse, she and Ned carry Peter to the car. They frantically cover his body in every coat and blanket they find, thanking G-d May has spares in the trunk in case of an emergency. She shrugs her coat off, leaving her sweater on. She springs herself into the backseat, Ned doing the same in the front with the heat already blasting. She’s frantically explaining to whoever is on the other end of the phone, voice breaking as she begs for help. “He’s- he’s breathing on his own now, but he’s blinking at us. What do I do--”

A few minutes pass, she’s not sure how she hasn’t passed out yet. May’s murmuring in her ear through the phone, that Tony is talking to Ned while he drives and that he’s going to talk to her next. She’s pretty sure she agrees, but she’s curled up around Peter, his body on her lap. She gives him warmth, listening to Tony spew medical terminology at her and how to treat hypothermia.

“You’re gonna be okay. I promise. You can’t die on us,” she whispers into the air, the car engine roaring.

Once Peter returns, he wonders if he’s dead when he’s conscious again. His brain registers warmth and lumps beneath him. He blearily opens his eyes, the action too much, his head is in someone’s lap. They run their hands gently through his cold hair. He feels hands around his socked-feet, and he furrows his brows in confusion. He begins to shift a little, feeling a gentle pressure on his arm and leg. There’s warmth all around his body, which is heavy but safe, it's as safe as May’s arms, Ben’s arms during a thunderstorm that shook the building, Tony’s arms after Titan. He closes his eyes, moaning and he’s ready to drift--

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” May sighs above him.

His first thought is to gasp for air, coughing and feeling his lungs clattering in his chest, his sternum erupting in pain. It feels like a hacksaw to his sternum when he breathes.

He whimpers quietly, hearing soft shushing above him. It’s a different sound from the constant headache of the ringing, but he hears the familiar whirr of the refrigerator and picks up four familiar heartbeats. His heart feels surmounted by grief, over the sea, left far away.

He blinks his eyes open past tears, recognizing the bookcase in front of him in the living room of the apartment, with a warm body at his feet on the couch. He’s in May’s lap, “Peter, hey,” May says softly, grounding him by placing a hand on his back. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”

She places her chin to his hair, sighing, and he sags into her arms. He thinks his feet are in Tony’s lap, his foot catching his side.

“Oh, kiddo,” Tony soothes, squeezing his foot gently.

“MJ? Ned?” He rasps out, no voice there and he turns frantically.

“Don’t worry, baby,” May says softly, he almost didn’t catch it. “MJ’s asleep in the chair besides Tony, Ned’s asleep in the other. We’re all crashing from adrenaline.

His head pounds at his movements, his arms feel sluggish, but he pushes himself off of May to find his friends, safe. “Oh-- fuck. Thank, G-d.”

“Language,” May admonishes kindly, settling him further into the couch comfortably by shifting pillows. “How are you feeling?”

Noticing hers and Tony’s eyes on him, searching, both their phones to the side of them and the window allowing pink and purple streaks inside, painting the furniture and the gold illustrating each facial feature of theirs. His friends sleep in the shadows, covered in soft blankets.He switches gazes between them. Tony moves him gently, wrapping his blankets tightly around him.

He’s guessing May removed some of his soaking clothes, exchanging his clothes and he notices the fresh white cotton t-shirt on his body, smelling of fresh fabric softener.

“Kid, you’re going to give me an aneurysm one of these days. Or, better yet, you’re going to burst my arteries yourself.” He fixed Peter with a pointed look, sighing. “I mean, you’re almost in college. I shouldn’t still be doing this.”

Everything he says comes off lightheartedly, but every word is laced with concern. He desperately wants to get argue back, but he knows today is his fault. He ignored his senses, and he doesn’t have a good enough excuse. Would he have been able to save his friends if it happened to them?

Like Tony can sense exactly what he’s thinking, he continues to assure him. “You’re hypothermic. You were blue, Pete, but your dislocated knee mixed in isn’t the worst you’ve done..”

He sighs, looking away from Tony and opting to listen to the kettle in the kitchen, May shifting his head off of her lap and into the couch cushion to it off and stares at Tony’s phone on the table.

“It was stupid, I know. I’m so sorry, everyone,” he finally says, none of the words being announced like he wants, his throat tender and unhealed, lifting his head off the pillow and moans in pain. He’s able to sit up, leaning heavily against a pillow with his elbow propping him up. He ignores the piercing pain in his ribs. ”I checked the water. I-- I wasn’t thinking, I guess.”

Tony sounded as frantic as he did back when he first yelled at him after the nearly-disastrous ferry incident. “That’s part of the problem. You are thinking, kid. You’d never do this willfully. You always jump the gun, which is something also great about you.. It can also be a great flaw.”

“Did they get hurt?” he whispers, turning back to the two teens on the smaller one-person couches.

“Nobody except for you, kiddo,” May reassures him, walking back in with a steaming mug in her hands. He takes this moment to redirect his gaze to his arm when he grabs it, his stiff elbow poked with a needle. “IV, baby. Needed to warm you up with warm saline.”

She sighs, sitting on the glass coffee table in front of him and not bothering to move the newspaper. “We’re worried, Peter. I can’t protect you like I need to, want to.”

He collapses back down into the pillow, oblivious to May and Tony’s secret communication with each other. May, nodding for Tony to sit beside her and in front of Peter. It probably isn’t comfortable for him, but he looks over to May for answers. She furrows her brows, her mouth set in a line.

He almost smiles, seeing the two of them in front of him again when he’s not dying. The relief quickly turns to worry when he remembers what happened, guilt refusing to subside. He’s huddled in the couch, like a cold, rejected dog, signs of frostbite all over him. It’s his own fault - he didn’t listen to his sense. The dark, insidious fear of death looms over his head once more, he really scared his friends today. And himself.

Murphy’s Law comes back to his head, an anxiety swirling in his stomach. It’s an ugly, black hurricane feeling, especially seeing the dejection and defeat written on both their faces.

“I--” he can’t manage, but the two of them see hesitation flicker across his face, voice too quiet and broken. “I’m just- I messed up. T’ny ta-taught me so much, I didn’t listen--” he cuts himself off, his voice unrecognizable, eyes widening in surprise, a realization.

“It was all my f’ult. I sc’red them, badly.” Pressing himself deeper into the corner of the pillow, tears overflow his eyes, hot streaks across his face he doesn’t expect. A shiver racks through him, not from the cold.

Tony leans over closer to him, his breath warm even through the blankets and on his exposed arm, his own hand hovering above him in hesitation, the inhibition set across his face. His mentor takes a deep breath in, gently grabbing the back of the couch and placing a kiss to the top of his head. He must’ve really fucked up today, he thinks.

He watches the fear streak across Tony’s eyes, too familiar to Titan. Peter feels deeply rooted in the couch, frozen solid from his core. He doesn’t know what the end of the story is, fear ebbing away, and he really looks at Peter face on. “I’m sorry.”

Peter feels frustrated again, just like the morning when half the world that died was brought back, feeling alone.

He lets his tears take over him, letting May hold him on the couch, feeling too weak to do anything else. She ends up pulling Peter into her lap again, rubbing circles on her shoulder and letting her own tears escape from her eyes, some falling onto his white t-shirt. He trembles under her, Tony reaching over to squeeze his hand, the arm with an IV. He soothes small circles with his thumb, drawing patterns on his skin and turns to May with owlishly wide eyes.

“It’s alright, kiddo,” Tony whispers. “We’ve got you. May’s got you. Your friends are right here. You’re right here.”

It takes some time, but eventually Peter falls asleep like that, May and Tony’s vice-like grip never once loosening on him.

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tipsyylove · 5 years

Text

TEENAGERS; PART 3

l a t e n i g h t d a t e

you and taeyong go on a date, late at night. making memories.

warnings: fluff fluff fluff fluff

the next day went by fast. it was 7am, and next you knew, the day was over. sure, it was nice, but now you were nervous for your first date with taeyong. you didn't know what to wear or how to do your hair.

when you arrived home, you decided to take a nap until around nine. it would make the time pass by faster, still giving you time to get ready and plan.

when waking up, you noticed that it was 9:30. perfect. still gives you time. you didn't really want to do anything with your hair, so you just brushed it. next, you had to pick your outfit for the night. you found a white shirt, leather jacket, some fishnet leggings, shorts, and your good ol converse.

next, makeup. you decided that you didn't want to look like you tried too hard for the date, so you decided to do your usual. brows, foundation, concealer, and mascara.

it was now 10:15. you have nearly 45 minutes until taeyong said he would be picking you up. you almost regret waking up at 9:30. waking up at 10 would have been easier. but, in the end, you decided to scroll through instagram.

you heard the doorbell ring, knowing it was him. you walked outside of your room to see yuta, standing outside of his room, in complete confusion. he sees you ready, and starts questioning you immediately.

"where are you going?" he asks. "out." you respond. "with?" "taeyong. goodbye." you say, running downstairs.

gif cr: not sure

you open the front door, to see him standing there. he looks, amazing. sure, he was just wearing a hoodie and jeans, but he looked so fucking good in it.

you yelled goodbye to everyone, and walked out of the door with taeyong.

when getting in the car, you realized that you have no idea what's happening.

"oh, where are we going?" you ask.

"an arcade, is that okay with you?"

"yeah, that's fine." you say, as he starts driving.

it didn't take long to get to the arcade. little to your knowledge, there was an arcade about 10 minutes away. it was pretty big, too.

taeyong opened your door for you, and led you into the arcade. he quickly paid, and you guys made it into the game room. it was huge. there were so many games, and you knew you were guaranteed to make some memories with him.

after playing for about two hours, you guys had finally added up all of your tickets, and decided to get some prizes and leave. you had about 2,591 in total. when walking into the prize room, there was a huge cat plush that caught your eye.

"taeyong!" you said, poking his shoulder.

"yes, (y/n)?" he asked, looking into your eyes and smiling.

"look at that cat plushie!"

"is that what you want?"

".....yes, please."

he walked up to the counter with your tickets, and pointed at the cat. they quickly came back with one.

"here you go, princess." he said, bowing down, and handing the cat to you.

this caused you to blush. you didn't know how to respond, so you just led him back into the car.

"let's go on a walk somewhere. like to the park or something." taeyong said, while driving.

"okay. that's fine with me." right after you said that, he stopped the car, and parked next to a restaurant.

you both got out of the car, and started walking, side by side. his hand slightly grazed yours, and you nearly had a heart attack.

you turned on your phone, and clicked spotify. you started to play your favorite playlist to kill the silence. you quickly started dancing along to it

"god, i love you." taeyong says under his breath

"what?" you ask.

"nothing, just talking to myself."

after he said that, you guys had made it to the park. it was really beautiful at night. it was lit up in just the right places. there was a bench under the light that you knew you had to take a picture under, but you were too shy to ask.

after sitting down, you felt a light sprinkle of rain. you guys started walking towards the car again, but, when you were nearly there, taeyong decided to lay down in the middle of the road. you took a picture right then and there.

it was a goofy picture, but you knew it was going to hold a special place in your heart.

when getting in the car, the windows were covered in rain. it was now pouring outside. you guys had started driving, and you decided, yet again, to snap a picture.

"do you wanna stay at a hotel, it's almost 2 am. it'd be easier for everyone." taeyong spoke up.

"sure, why not."

right after you had said that, you had a thought. 'what if he wants to get frisky?' no. he wouldn't. sure, he's a horny teenager, but on the first date? you slowly closed off these thoughts, and enjoyed the ride there.

when arriving, taeyong led you in, and quickly paid. again.

"taeyong, you gotta stop paying for everything. i have money, too"

"too late." he said, grabbing your room key.

he then led you up to your room, on the sixth floor. it was a super nice hotel that he rented for you guys. you were almost shocked.

the room had a big window in it, right next to the bed, giving you guys a really nice view of the outside world.

as you took a picture, again, taeyong left the hotel room. he didn't even tell you what he was doing. you immediately thought that he was going to just leave you there. but, he wouldn't, he's too sweet.

he came back about five minutes later, with pizza boxes in hand. you just remembered that you guys hadn't eaten yet. it was nice of him to think of that, even though he was probably hungry.

the pizza was very delicious, and of very good quality. after pizza, you guys decided to hit the hay.

but, there was one thing in the way, only one bed. sure, you guys were mature enough to sleep in the same bed, but it might end up being awkward.

you took off your jacket, and taeyong took off his sweatshirt, leaving him in a plain, tight, tanktop. it was just defining his body more, and made him look even more incredible.

you laid down, after admiring him for way too long, taeyong following shortly after.

you guys had been laying down for quite a while, when all of the sudden, taeyong flipped over, and wrapped his arm around your, still conscience, body. you, shortly falling asleep after.

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avengerofyourheart · 7 years

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Leave This Town Pt 3 (Mechanic!Bucky AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky, Natasha (mentioned)

Summary: Your dreams of kissing your small town life goodbye are about to come true when an unexpected detour leaves you stranded. Meeting the handsome local mechanic has you rethinking your plans. Perhaps happiness is less about where you’re headed and more about the people you meet along the way.

Song Inspiration: Sleep on the Floor by The Lumineers

Warnings: Mentions of drinking. The mildest of swearing I guess?

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags are at bottom (TAG LIST IS CLOSED I’M SORRY)

**This fic is for @bionic-buckyb ‘s 5K AU Writing Challenge**

A/N: You guys. This fic has taken on a life of its own and I’m oddly okay with it. Once upon a time I planned 3 parts, then 4, and now it’s 7. :D Oops. That’s what I think, anyway. Who knows? Not me, apparently. ha! I really hope you’re loving Mechanic!Bucky as much as I am!! Any feedback and comments are appreciated. Love you guys!!

<<Part Two Part Three Part Four >>>

Leave This Town Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

_____________________________________________

A/N: This gif applies, I promise. ;)

______

Previously:

Reaching your room, you flicked on the tv mostly for background noise and took a hard look at the detailed budget you had written up for your trip. Paying for 3 days in a motel and adding the car repairs, your wallet was taking a hit, but Bucky’s willingness to lower the bill would definitely help. You were grateful to this kind stranger and the thought of spending the whole day with him tomorrow was strangely exciting. Surprised to feel a few butterflies flutter in your stomach, you shook your head to clear away the feeling and got ready for bed.

I’ll be gone in a few days, you told yourself as you drifted off to sleep.

_______________________

Morning came and luckily your body woke you around 7am because you’d neglected to set an alarm. You hopped in the shower and then rummaged through your duffel for something comfortable to wear that you wouldn’t mind getting dirty. Slipping on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and sneakers instead of your trusty sandals, you pulled your hair up away from your face and headed out the door with an apple in hand.

Arriving outside the auto shop, the garage doors were closed but a light was on in the office. You let yourself in and wandered behind the counter toward the light, finding Bucky seated at a desk piled high with papers. His hair was down, brushing the collar of his light blue work shirt which was unbuttoned to reveal a white tank top underneath. Watching him fill out a form of some sort in a hurried scrawl, you observed him unnoticed a moment before announcing yourself.

“Good morning,” you finally spoke, bringing his head up.

His handsome smile instantly brightened the artificially-lit room, causing those butterflies to make an appearance once again. “Morning, Y/N.”

You returned his smile, leaning against the door’s entryway. “Well, it looks like this office could use a little help.”

He chuckled. “You’re not wrong, but quite the undertaking. I’m pretty sure some of these receipts are older than me. My uncle owns the shop, but he’s basically retired now so I run the place. Organization was never his strong suit. How about some coffee and a little tour?”

You nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

Bucky kept a small coffee pot in the waiting area in front of the counter and he poured you both a cup, offering cream and sugar. You followed him around as he explained where things were and why they were kept there, although sometimes the answer was “because that’s where my uncle put them”, defying all logic. There was a corded phone on the wall behind the counter, but it rarely rang. According to Bucky, your call was the only one he’d had all week. Most locals just dropped by and he’d squeeze them in whenever he could.

The computer was ancient, which seemed to be a trend in this town, but most files were still on paper anyway. Bucky gave you a rundown of where tools were generally kept along with stories about the cars he was currently working on and their owners. Your favorite was Mr. Coulson’s 1962 Cherry Red Chevy Corvette, which he had named Lola. For years he would hover around the car while Bucky changed the oil or any other regular servicing, but he seemed to trust the seasoned mechanic now. Bucky still advised you not to touch Lola, just to be safe.

“So? Which project would you like to tackle?” he asked you as he pulled his hair back into a bun to start his day.

You were momentarily distracted by the act once again, but made it seem like you were considering your options. “Where’s the tow truck?” you finally asked.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh…you want to tow something?”

“No, I mean the lift mechanism that nearly shattered my eardrums. It’s bad enough when your car has to be towed, being subjected to that unholy noise is just insult to injury.”

He barked out a laugh at that before gesturing to its location around the corner of the building. “You’ve got a point. If you want to back it into that empty stall, I’ll show you how to grease it up.”

Bucky tossed you the keys and you did just that. You managed to lubricate the hydraulic lift of the tow truck very carefully as to avoid pinched fingers. When it raised and lowered with no squeal, you jumped up and down, clapping your blackened hands in excitement. Bucky poked his head out from under a car’s hood and grinned at you, causing that flutter in your stomach to grow.

After the tow truck, you managed to organize the tools which were now all hanging from a pegboard on the wall for easy access. Next, you washed all the dingy windows, finally letting actual sunlight in. Around mid-morning, Bucky asked for your help aiming a flashlight at a particularly tricky part of an engine. You pointed the light at the area in question from above while Bucky worked from underneath the car.

“So where are you headed specifically?” he asked, breaching the subject of your trip.

“L.A.” you said simply.

“Oh? Off to Hollywood to become a big movie star, huh?” he teased lightly as you heard the clanging of a tool against the engine.

“Nope,” you contradicted him. “I’m no actress. I’m actually a writer. Screenwriter, to be exact,” you explained proudly.

“Really?” he asked, an impressed tone in his voice. “That’s amazing. Do you write one specific genre or a variety?”

You smiled at his question, grateful that he took your confession in stride without any doubt at your ability. “Action and suspense, mostly. I did write a romantic comedy while I was in school, but it was so damn sappy I couldn’t even stand to read it afterwards.”

He chuckled, making you wish you could see his smiling face from where you stood beside the car. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. We’re always our own worst critic.”

You let out a sigh. “Maybe. My fellow classmates said it was pretty good. I just don’t feel like it’s my forte.”

At that last word, you heard the rolling wheels from underneath, then revealing Bucky. He sat up, catching your eye with a shrug. “Well, sometimes what we struggle with the most is how we grow as a person. Or an artist. ”

You considered his words of wisdom as he stood from his crouched position, wiping his hands on a rag. Bucky had a smudge of grease on his neck and you had the strongest urge to take that rag from his hands and brush your fingers against his skin while cleaning the spot yourself. A few strands from his bun had come loose, framing his face as a light sheen of sweat clung to his skin. In this dingy, hot garage, you thought he was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen.

Realizing you hadn’t shared a response, you cleared your throat and broke eye contact, blurting out the first thought in your head. “Hey, what’s that thing called? The rolling board thing?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s a creeper,” Bucky answered, nudging the contraption he had been lying on moments before with his booted foot.

You snorted involuntarily. “A what? A creeper? That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

Bucky joined you in your laughter. “Yeah, it’s a pretty unusual name.”

As the laughter died down, you held his gaze for a moment longer than intended, snatched by the captivating, stormy-grey eyes meeting yours. He broke contact this time, reaching a hand out toward you and you realize he was asking for the flashlight in your grasp.

“Well, thanks for your help. I think I’ll be okay going solo for the oil change next,” he said with a grin, accepting the flashlight from you.

“Yeah, um…it’s no problem. I’ll, uh…I’ll get back to it then,” you replied with a nod, telling yourself the flush on your skin was from the heat of the day.

You spent the next few hours cleaning the garage’s cement floor which was covered in oil splotches. Once finished, you stood back to survey your work, wiping the back of your hand against your sweaty brow.

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the floor back to it’s original color. When you bought that can of Coke from the vending machine I thought you were just going to drink it,” Bucky said, impressed as he stood beside you.

“Drink it? Ick. No. After seeing what that stuff does to a greasy oil stain, what do you think it does to your insides?” you asked in reply, wrinkling your nose in distaste.

“Clears out all the grease?” he asked in a teasing tone.

You made a disgusted noise, nudging his side with your elbow as he burst out in laughter.

“Speaking of grease, do you wanna pick up some lunch from the diner? My treat. Nattie knows my usual and you can get whatever you want,” he offered, plucking a few bills from his wallet before handing them to you. “I’ll finish with this car and get cleaned up.”

“Sure,” you replied, accepting the cash and stashing it in your pocket. You ventured into the bathroom (which was a whole other cleaning project you had yet to tackle) and washed your hands before trekking the few blocks toward the diner.

You returned half an hour later with a bag in each hand. You hollered at Bucky that food was here and as he rounded the corner, you were gifted with a lovely surprise to see the handsome mechanic in only a tank top, having shed his work shirt in the summer heat. He reached up and released his bun, brunet hair cascading down with a shake of his head. You had noticed something on the underside of his left arm, but it was only a split second so you convinced yourself it may have been a trick of the light.

Both of you settled in the empty waiting room where it was slightly cooler with a struggling air conditioner sputtering in the corner. You ate out of the to-go containers with intermittent conversation. At first bite, you suddenly realized how hungry you actually were. The apple from that morning wasn’t very filling, you decided.

“So,” you said with a mouth full of food, then swallowing before you went on, “Did you always want to be a mechanic?”

“No,” Bucky replied with a small snort. “I’m not sure anyone truly has aspirations to become a grease monkey. Believe it or not, I thought I was gonna become a huge rockstar and make it big. I was in a band in high school and we stayed together a few years after we graduated. We actually weren’t too terrible and I got pretty decent at the guitar, but when my dad left, my uncle was shorthanded so I started helping out here at the shop. Turns out I’m pretty good at fixing cars and I don’t know. I just stuck with it. Plus we needed the money,” he stated as fact, then shoving a forkful in his mouth.

Setting down your own fork, you took a good look at him. Even knowing him such a short time, you could tell Bucky had untapped potential. He was a young, attractive, charismatic guy. He probably could have done any number of things with his life and succeeded. The fact that he just resigned himself to this life made you a little sad. “I’m sorry,” you spoke quietly. “About your dad, I mean.”

Bucky shrugged. “It was rough at first, but in the end, probably for the best.” He scraped the last of his food onto his fork and finished it off, then gathering up his trash. “Are you finished?” he asked you, gesturing toward the last few bites of your lunch.

You nodded and joined him in cleaning up. Following Bucky back into the garage, you both tossed your empty containers in the large trashcan. It was then that he noticed something sitting on on his workbench.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding up the cash that had been left there.

“Your change,” you answered simply.

He was silent a moment, probably calculating what his own meal normally cost. “This is too much. Did you pay for your own lunch?”

You nodded with a shrug, “I still owe you.”

He let out an exasperated sigh as he pulled his hair into a bun again. You weren’t mistaken, there was definitely a unique pattern of white lines and curves on his skin under his left arm near his bicep. “I said it was my treat, you didn’t have to do that. You’re paying me back already.”

Offering a smile, you just shrugged again. “I think I’ll tackle the office,” you said bluntly, biting back curiosity as you walked through the doorway and immersed yourself in the messy back room stacked with papers.

____________

Several hours and a trip to the office supply store later with having done so much filing you felt like your fingers were more paper cuts than skin, the small back room was finally organized. You’d run it all past Bucky later and make sure he could keep up with it for his own benefit, you thought as you stretched your sore muscles. 6 o’clock had rolled around and once again you were starving. You weren’t sure how late Bucky stayed open so you peeled yourself out of the vinyl chair and headed for the garage.

You didn’t see Bucky at first glance one again, so you peeked around cars, walking toward the far end of the garage where you hadn’t been yet. There was a small alcove just around the corner that wasn’t visible unless you knew it was there. Turning the corner, you were surprised to see Bucky sitting in the back of a car with a bottle of beer in his hand. Oddly enough, the car had no roof. Or doors. Basically it was a bench seat wrapped in black leather inside a bare car frame. Bucky took a sip and then noticed you standing there.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a smile. “All done?”

You nodded, stepping forward. “You?”

“Yep,” he confirmed, then letting the moment fall into comfortable silence.

Feeling courageous, you climbed into the car and took a seat on the bench beside him. “How long ago did you finish?” you asked him, rubbing at a grease spot on your arm you’d just noticed.

“About 20 minutes ago. I peeked in and saw you were about done so I didn’t want to interrupt. You were muttering to yourself about the necessity of last names on customer receipts, then you sang a few seconds of the Alphabet song to find the proper file. It was cute,” he said with a chuckle, then offering the beer bottle to you. “I would have brought another but I wasn’t sure if you were a drinker or not.”

Your eyes flickered between the beer and him, cheeks enflamed from realizing he had been watching and listening earlier. You accepted the cold beer from him, hyper aware of the fact that his lips had been on it a second ago. Holding his gaze, you took a swig and then handed the bottle back to him. His eyes dropped to your lips as you licked them, then back up to meet your eyes.

“So,” you finally spoke, glancing at your surroundings. “Is this a project of yours? This car?”

Clearing his throat, he nodded. “I”m hoping to restore it completely eventually, but it’s a slow process. Parts on classic cars are expensive and I don’t have a lot of time these days. But eventually, it’s going to be a ’67 Chevy Impala. Such a great car.”

You nodded, trying to picture what it would be like one day. For some reason that specific make and model sounded familiar to you with an image of a shiny black car roaring down the highway flashing in your mind, maybe from a movie or tv show.

Bucky was playing with the label on his beer bottle when he spoke again. “So, I was thinking of going out to dinner at this great Italian place in town tonight. Would you like to join me?”

“Really?” you asked in shock.

“Okay, so it’s the ONLY Italian place around here, but it’s still pretty good,” he admitted with a grin, still awaiting your response.

“Um…sure. That sounds great. Good as the diner is, I’m not sure I could handle a fourth meal in two days,” you said, pulling a face.

He laughed, “Understandable. I’ve done it, but wouldn’t recommend it.”

You echoed his laughter for a moment. “I should probably get cleaned up though…” you trailed off, looking down at your sweaty, grease-covered clothes.

“Oh, yeah, me too,” he agreed. “I can drop you off and then pick you up around 7:30?”

“That sounds perfect,” you grinned, climbing out of the car with Bucky following you.

As you waved goodbye to Bucky and shut the door to your motel room, your mind went into panic mode. Was this a date? Did you pack anything date-worthy? How much scrubbing would it take to get the grease out of your skin and fingernails? Taking a deep breath, you let go of those worries as excitement for tonight crept in.

You had a date with Bucky Barnes. Maybe.

_______________

Part Four>>>

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Aaaahhh!!!! I’m so excited you guys!!! I’m having SO much fun with this fic. :D How’d you like those Easter Egg car references. ;) Gotta use what limited car knowledge I have! haha. Are you ready for this maybe-date with Bucky??? Get excited, cause I am! I love you guys! Any feedback and comments are appreciated! <3

Permanent Tag List and LTT tag list are CLOSED. I’M SORRY.

Permanent Tags:

@ek823 @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @yellowtheremarvelfan @mirkwood—princess @stovehairington @msshadowboxer @reniescarlett @wellfuckbuck @coffeeismylife28 @lilasiannerd @bunchofandoms @sarahpanda65 @ria132love @canumoveyourseatup-no @whatshernamemaria @crazyliraz @filthylolita @tempestinatea-cup @pixierox101 @jcb2k16 @jaderz-mega-yikes @gatorgal94 @prettylatxna @abovethesmokestacks @missmotherhen @snakesgoethe @feelmyroarrrr @buckysmetallicstump @dontstopwiththelyin @mytasterpeculiar @writingruna @imaginingbucky @bovaria @thisisthelilith @buckyywiththegoodhair @rogersxbarnesx @hellomissmabel @bionic-buckyb @buckysberrie @marvel-lucy @marvelingatthewonder @you-and-bucky @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @just-call-me-mrs-captain @hymnofthevalkyries @kinqshley @beccaanne814-blog @avengersandchill @marvel-ash @sebbytrash @serzhantkris @officialcaptain-marvel @themcuhasruinedme @mizzzpink @vaisabu @winterboobaer @idontknow-canyou @mylittlefandomfanfictions @bemystucky @lenavonschweetz @hotmessofafangirl @niallandsebastianaremylife @avengermama @melanie451 @mrs–healy @black-eyed-bucky @supersoldier-wifey @gold-liess @thebabewiththepwr @indominusregina @lostinspace33 @lillian-paige @brittanymcsharry @dustycelt @tragicalchemist @palaiasaurus64 @mycapt-ohcapt @chrisevans-imagines @ryverpenrad @timeladylaurel @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @maybe-mikala @bellenuit45 @ilovebeingjoyful @soulful-ofevans @finhabastos @queen-merc @theawesomeclairfury @4theluvofall @seeyainanotherlifebrotha @jaybird6232 @johnmurphys-sass @anxuanpham @anitavalija @katbird787 @tori-medusa-belongs-to-bucky @readingtoescape @lbouvet @cojootromuelle @smginger1131 @maririn @justreadingfics @srgtjamesbarnes107

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #Mechanic!Bucky #bucky fluff #bucky au #reader x bucky #reader x bucky barnes #reader x james buchanan barnes #leave this town series #kaits5kauchallenge

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therecoversite · 7 years

Text

Detox Dangers

New Post has been published on https://www.therecover.com/detox-dangers/

Detox Dangers

Nearly one third of California’s 1,800 + licensed rehabs provide non-medical detox. Somehow this has been allowed in California, while other states have barred other treatment centers from allowing non-medical detox due to the dangers from withdrawal. So how is this dangerous practice being allowed in one of the most progressive states in the nation?

Sadly due to the urgency of most rehab cases, families don’t always have time to do the due diligence to make sure the facility they are sending their loved one to has the appropriate type of care. Some cases are held to whatever their insurance will allow.

Lake Arrowhead’s Above It All treatment center sells the message of professional care, it says on its website that it provides “clinically supervised” and “around-the-clock medical supervision” for patients in detox and aftercare — are medical facilities. Not many know that detox typically happens in a tract home or that the most stringent medical requirement might be the full-time presence of someone who knows CPR. When it comes to the withdrawal symptoms and dangerous signs, the states low medical requirements don’t align with the risks of withdrawal.

Without the proper type of medical care during a withdrawal, sometimes the dangers can be more than fever sweats and shaky nerves. Sometimes without the correct care, a patient can die from their withdrawals. The state of California doesn’t keep track of the number of deaths that occur in detox centers. Officials with Health Care Services only will confirm the number of death investigations in the past 5 years, from 2012 to 2017. 84. But they also noted that the average number of deaths is about 24 a year, which could push the total to 140 by the end of 2017.

Most centers are just in the unfortunate position of just having an unhealthy patient walk into their doors. Drug addicts are not known for their stellar health, and some come with underlying medical problems. But when a new patient is admitted, it can be hard to predict who will have trouble and who will be fine.

Gary Benefield arrived at A Better Tomorrow, a non-medical rehab in Murrieta, CA, after he had recently come down with pneumonia and suffered continuously from emphysema and pulmonary disease, according to a state senate investigation in 2012. Gary died on his 53rd birthday while he was a patient at the rehab.

Brandon Jacques suffered a heart attack and later passed away while admitted to First House in Costa Mesa in 2011. Jacques was only 20 years old and come to the center to seek help for his alcoholism and bulimia. His death was one of the third at the facility, and First House later paid Jacques’ family $10.25 million after it was court ordered.

In 2012, 28-year-old Jason Redmer died of a drug overdose four days after entering West Coast Detox in Huntington Beach. His mother files a wrongful death suit after she learned that the staff didn’t seek medical help quickly enough after they had learned Redmer had ingested drugs. She later settled for an undisclosed amount.

Last year in 2016, Dillon DeRita was found dead of a heart attack on the patio of Pacific Coast Detox in Costa Mesa. He had only been at the center for two day after starting his detox regime. A video showed the rehab staff find DeRita unresponsive and walk away, without calling for help or administering CPR. When an investigation showed that staff had falsified records, the center was closed.

Since 2013, Three clients from Above It All in Lake Arrowhead have died. Terri Darling, 52, James Douglas, 25, and Matthew Maniace, 20. Donavan Doyle, 21, died in the woods near the Lake Arrowhead center after he had been kicked out of or he ran from the program, The San Bernardino corner said Doyle most likely died of hypothermia within hours of leaving.

But Above It All officials said the company is not responsible for any of the deaths, citing the autopsy reports concluded the deaths were natural or from undetermined causes.

Insurance companies claim risk is why part of detox is so expensive, whether doctors are present or not. Above It All charges patients nearly $40,000 a month after an initial $3,000 fee. This is a fairly common rate in the rehab industry.

The owner of Above It All Kory Avarell said that every client is required to see a doctor after arriving. But Matthew Maniace’s parents said the center never showed any record of Matthew being seen before or after his arrival at the detox center.

At 7am on February 26th, Matthew was found in the fetal position, curled up in his hospital bed. A check again at 9:20 am found him in the same position, but this time with yellow foam coming from his mouth. The nurse then started CPR, but it would be 30 more minutes before 911 was called. Emergency workers arrived 5 minutes after the call was placed and by 10:15am, Manice was pronounced dead.

Had Manice been checked every 30 minutes, would the nurse have noticed his disposition and gotten medical help? If they had called 911 right away, would Matthew have been revived?

Since their son’s death, Matthew Manice’s parents have learned a lot about California’s rules regarding addiction treatment. If California also followed other states that have forbid non-medical detoxes, might their son still be alive?

The practice of addicts weaning off drugs or alcohol without close oversight from a doctor or specially trained medical staff is dangerous enough that a growing number of states simply don’t allow it.

“Any program in the state that does detox is considered an acute care facility and is required to have medical oversight,” said Ann Scales, spokeswoman for the Massachusetts Department of Public Health.

North Carolina requires all detox be done under the supervision of a physician, whether it’s in a hospital or residential treatment setting. Indiana has the same law, where a patients detox requires the supervision of a physician or clinical nurse specialist licensed to practice in the state. Ohio, Tennessee, Vermont and many other states are aggressively pushing for a more medically centered approach to treatment.

California’s approach draws criticism from many in the industry. Mark G. Mishek, chief executive of the Minnesota-based Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation, was stunned by the lenient rules he encountered when his organization merged with the Rancho Mirage-based Betty Ford Center.

“I’m a hospital administrator. California is very, very cutting-edge and strong in hospital regulation, as you would expect it to be. It has a reputation for being tough,” said Mishek. “For addiction, I thought it would be the same way. But it’s just not.

“A friend was showing me a detox house in L.A. and I thought, ‘God forbid if my wife or daughter ever wound up here.’”

The state follows what is described, legally, as the “corporate practice of medicine doctrine,” which translates as physicians and other licensed health professionals could not work for unlicensed people, including most addiction treatment programs.

A new state law allows non-medical rehabs to partner more closely with physicians for “incidental medical services.”

But the new rule does not require patients to get a complete medical exam before entering treatment. And it does not require that a physician make the call on which level of treatment is best.

“If addiction is a brain disease,” asked Walter Ling, professor of psychiatry and founding director of the Integrated Substance Abuse Programs at UCLA, “where are all the doctors?”

Withdrawal symptoms such as heart attacks, organ failures, fluctuations in body temperature and seizures are all potentially lethal side effects, according to the National Institute on Drug Abuse.

“Detox is a really, really dangerous time for a patient,” said Hazelden’s Mishek. “The number of seizures during detox – particularly from alcohol or benzodiazepines (drugs such as Valium and Xanax) – means you have to have really good nurses and doctors to monitor withdrawal.”

Nurses and Doctor’s are not required in California. Though non-medical facilities must screen patients before admission and send higher-risk patients to more medically intensive care, the screening process often centers more on how an addict answers some questions than on any formal medical testing.

Questionnaires given incoming patients are very generic. Questions like:

“Are you feeling fearful?”

“Do you feel bugs crawling on or under your skin?”

“Are you hearing things you know are not there?”

But health histories provided by drug-addled clients are hardly complete, and intake workers don’t have to check with the client’s primary care physician to probe for underlying health risks.

Above It All used to have clients go to urgent care to be cleared as healthy enough for non-medical detox, but Avarell said only a fraction required hospitalization.

Poor medical oversight might have played a role in four deaths that took place from 2008 to 2010 at A Better Tomorrow, a now-shuttered rehab in Murrieta, according to a 2012 state Senate investigation.

The patients had complex medical histories, including problems such as asthma, hypertension, shakes, swelling, shortness of breath, diabetes, high blood pressure, liver disease and other maladies, the report found. But all four were deemed healthy enough to be admitted to the non-medical facility where they later died.

“The people who work in these places, for the most part, are recovering addicts themselves,” said Anthony Lanzone, an attorney who handled the Redmer family’s case against West Coast Detox. “They aren’t doctors. They aren’t nurses. They don’t know how to handle these problems.”

Some former workers at Above It All agreed.

In sworn testimony given in the wrongful death claims pending against the center, former employees expressed discomfort that patients were admitted to detox without seeing a doctor. The intake screening for one of the patients who died was done by a medical assistant earning $12 an hour, whose job included cooking and cleaning in addition to watching patients.

“Under-trained staff; nurses not adequately knowing how to handle a crisis emergency situation; simple things such as CPR; calling 911; not knowing the difference between contraindicated medications that were highly dangerous in a detox situation,” said Betty Jean Tarvin, a licensed vocational nurse, ticking off problems she believed were common at Above It All.

“I witnessed too much … medicine-related responsibilities put on house managers (who) are not medically trained,” Tarvin said during her deposition.

“When are they going to see there needs to be more medical staff on at the detox center?”

Above It All’s lawyer argued that the former workers had been terminated and were hostile to the company.

But Tarvin also offered kind words for Avarell.

“I just believe the company just got too big … Kory just wasn’t at that level yet. It was too much for him. I believe he has good intentions.”

Avarell declined to comment on specifics because of privacy laws and pending litigation but said his company’s intake protocol is thorough.

“Any good treatment center is going to screen for health issues before the potential client gets to the treatment center, and of course if they are in bad shape, they would go to a more appropriate place,” Avarell wrote by email. “Our assessment has lots and lots of questions, 34 main questions. … We have sent a lot of people to a higher level of care because they weren’t in good health when they got here.”

He estimates that about 5 percent of prospective clients were referred to higher levels of care.

Though the intake screening isn’t done by medical professionals, Avarell said it is prepared by a doctor. “(W)hen we hit a medical question that is out of the ordinary, we have either a nurse or doctor look at the assessment.”

Above It All’s policy was to have clients see a doctor in person within 24 hours of arrival, he said.

“Switching to an all-medical detox model is of course safer, can’t deny that,” said Avarell. “Is it doable? Yes, but not economically feasible. The insurance companies would never pay enough.”

It’s often hard to tell if a center offers medical or non-medical treatment. Critics say some non-medical centers use scientific-sounding jargon in their advertising to imply that they provide a higher level of care than they actually do.

Some argue that allowing non-medical detox without a doctor’s clearance translates into danger for patients.

“The notion of ignoring physiology, and not providing appropriate medical care for someone in a situation that can lead to a true medical emergency, or be a true medical emergency, is grossly inappropriate,” said Michael Miller, past president of the American Society of Addiction Medicine and medical director of the Herrington Recovery Center at Rogers Memorial Hospital in Wisconsin.

Miller suggested that the rehab model followed in California is financially driven and that actual hospitalization for detox is viewed as too expensive.

It’s difficult to know what type of care your loved one will receive when dealing with a non-medical detox center. It is important for the person to be checked out medically to insure the type of care provided matches the type of care needed. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, and if it’s hard to get answers, it may be best to find another facility.

The Recover has taken information formerly published in a Press Enterprise article. The Recover has no opinion on the fault of the treatment centers mentioned.

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