Chapter Text
“Dude,” said Ned.
“Dude,” said MJ.
“Dude,” said Jason.
“Dude,” said Julian.
“Dude,” said Rudy.
Peter let out a groan and slammed his hands down on the table. “Dudes, stop! Seriously, stop saying that!” Wait, was dudes even a grammatically sound plural word? More importantly, was he going to be called out for political incorrectness by applying it to MJ? He shook his head to scatter the thoughts. It did not matter. “Please stop staring and just let me finish my food!”
He picked up his favourite bánh mì—handcrafted meticulously by the talented chef on the third-floor canteen of Stark Industries—and took a big, defensive bite. Perhaps he was actually the single sane individual at this table. He had never imagined a day would come where he, Peter Benjamin Parker, considered himself the voice of reason, but no one could possibly fault him for it today.
It was reasonable for everyone to be shocked that his Stark Industries internship was legitimate after all this time. What made far less sense was the monumental collapse of their minds upon discovering that Flash had an internship here as well.
Peter had not known about Flash’s position until an hour ago. He was just as surprised as they were. Yet Ned, MJ and Flash’s trio of followers had simply gathered around his table, staring at him like he held all the answers to the universe, before delivering that unison chant.
Peter chewed faster, internally vowing that if Jason or Julian or Rudy opened their mouths to turn this into a scandalous scandal—suggesting he and Flash were secretly married or running a clandestine operation together—he would completely lose his temper.
“Dude,” a new voice chimed in.
Peter immediately slid his bánh mì safely to the side before slamming his forehead flat against the laminate table. A heavy, resounding thud echoed through the air.
“Whoa, Cindy, hold on,” Ned said, his tone solemn as he turned towards her. “The quota has been reached. No more people can join the Dude chorus. This table is strictly reserved for the inner circle of Peter and Flash’s mutual orbit.”
“Yeah,” Jason added, crossing his arms and putting on a ridiculously intense expression. “Flash has a very strict three-goon policy for peer-pressure circles. You haven’t passed the probationary vetting period to stand this close to the drama.”
From his face-down position on the table, Peter blinked into the dark surface. Wow, he thought to himself, even Cindy Moon wants in on this? What is my life right now?
“Alright, fair enough,” Cindy laughed, raising her hands and taking a couple of exaggerated steps backward. “I didn’t realise there was a strict velvet-rope policy for the dude-circle. I’ll retreat from the inner sanctum and wait for the juicy details to leak later.” She leaned over and gave Peter a swift, encouraging pat on the back. “Good luck, man.”
Peter didn’t bother lifting his head. Luck was a joke. What he really wished for was a sudden dose of good old-fashioned Parker Luck—that guarantee that whenever his life seemed stable, a rogue wave of chaotic bad luck would instantly crash through the window. He was begging for a classic Parker Luck disaster to strike right now, just so everyone would have something else to pay attention to.
“Man...” Rudy muttered, his eyes locked on the food. “That bánh mì looks unbelievable. I need one.”
“Fourth floor canteen, all the way at the back,” Ned offered helpfully.
“Awesome. See ya,” Rudy said, turning on his heel and heading straight for the stairs.
Peter slowly lifted his head from the table, watching Rudy’s retreat with relief. Even though Rudy had only left because his stomach commanded it, Peter was thankful for the reduced pressure. Everyone knew that boy ate enough calories to support a mid-sized infantry unit, and having his massive frame step away instantly gave Peter enough room to actually breathe.
Peter slowly raised his head, gently picking his sandwich back up. He swept a tired look over the remaining faces. “Guys, please, can we just eat in peace? Miss Nana told us we have forty minutes before the tour resumes. I swear to you, I really didn’t know Flash was interning here. I had zero idea he was Pepper’s personal intern! Hell, I didn’t even know an internship with Miss Potts was a thing that existed!”
Silence fell over the table as Peter paused to gauge their reactions.
MJ finally marked her page and looked up, having finished her meal. Ned gave him a soft, innocent blink, and Peter prayed that his best friend was on his side. Jason and Julian, however, were a different story. The two boys were still looking down at him with blatant scepticism. It was written across their foreheads: they knew Peter was telling the truth, but they were refusing to accept it.
Oh, come on!
“Really, guys,” Peter pleaded, shaking his head. “Please just believe—”
“So how long have you two been keeping this up?” Julian cut in, crossing his arms. “How are things going with you two behind closed doors, anyway?”
MJ snorted loudly, looking over at Julian. “You might want to rephrase that, Vane. You sound like you are asking if Peter and Flash are secretly dating.”
“In some other alternate universe,” Ned added with a solemn nod, “there is probably someone writing that exact fanfiction and publishing it on AO3 right now.”
“Ned, please, no fourth-wall breaks!” Peter begged.
“We’re just asking the real questions,” Jason countered, looking deadly serious. “Julian and I need to be sure you’re actually good enough for Flash before we let this slide.”
Ned scoffed loudly. “Excuse me? What about whether Flash is good enough for Peter? Peter is a catch!”
MJ looked between all of them, resting her chin in her hand. “This conversation derailed fast. So… are we establishing that Peter and Flash are in a secret relationship, or are we just shipping them?”
“Okay, stop! Everybody just stop!” Peter stood up abruptly, slapping his hands onto the edge of the table. A nearby group of scientists looked over in surprise, making Peter’s cheeks burn. But he couldn’t let them keep going, or they’d have them married off before the tour resumed.
He was experiencing a level of fatigue that defied physics—a feeling as if his soul had been put through a paper shredder and hastily taped back together with cheap sticky tape. A tiny, desperate part of him considered yelling, “I’m Spider-Man!” at the top of his lungs just to break the spell. Surely fighting supervillains would be a better topic than this imaginary romance. Doing an internship in the same skyscraper did not mean they were secretly involved!
Thankfully, everyone at the table seemed to sense that he was at his limit. Seeing his overwhelmed expression, they all went quiet.
Peter let out a long breath and slowly sat back down. “Please, no more meta jokes,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “And for the last time, Flash and I aren’t dating. He’s just been trying to be a decent person lately.”
“He really has been,” Ned chimed in to support him. “Last week, he handed me a five-hundred-dollar gift card to a steakhouse just because I let him borrow a pencil. I don’t even eat red meat, but it was a very aggressive gesture of goodwill.”
“Right... exactly,” Peter said. “Look, there is zero romance here. I have no idea how Flash got an internship with Miss Potts. My time here is tied to Mr Stark’s lab schedule. Mr Stark focuses on technical development, while Miss Potts oversees the corporate business. I only see her occasionally when I’m dropping off files or picking up materials, so it’s not like we’re all hanging out together.”
“Yeah,” Ned added, gesturing broadly around the table. “The thing is, if anyone here ought to know how Flash got an internship, it would be his inner circle. Like you, and you, and—”
Ned trailed off, pointing his index finger into the empty space where Rudy had been sitting moments before. Except Rudy was no longer gone. He had silently slid back into his seat and was currently squinting at Ned’s finger with intense suspicion.
“Why are you pointing at me, Leeds?” Rudy asked. “And no, I’m not sharing my bánh mì with you. Sorry.”
“I’m not going to steal your bánh mì,” Ned replied with an amused shake of his head. “Bon appétit.”
“Thanks,” Rudy grunted, unwrapping the butcher paper. “Man, the lady at the counter was so nice. She actually asked for my autograph! I told her I am going to be a star football player in the future, so she said I should sign a napkin for her wall! She even gave me extra pickled radish. I am totally going to come back here every single day.”
Jason cleared his throat, interrupting apologetically. “Rudy, that’s great, but we have far more pressing subjects to discuss right now—”
“Oh, also!” Rudy ploughed right over him, his mouth already half-full. “While I was walking back from the lift, I had a brilliant idea. I called Flash, and he said he is going to come down and join us! The guy already ate lunch—can you believe that? Who eats lunch at eleven in the morning? But he said he will come down and drink some tea with us.”
Silence descended upon the table
MJ looked up from her book, taking in the stunned faces around her before turning her gaze to Rudy. “Well, look at that. You just saved us all from a massive headache and accelerated the pacing of this whole afternoon. Good job, Miller.”
Rudy paused mid-chew, his jaw working slowly as he stared blankly at MJ. He turned his head towards Jason, his eyes wide with confusion. “Bro... am I hallucinating? Did the food get spiked or something? I just got complimented by Michelle Jones.”
“There is no need to question your sanity, Rudolph, nor has your lunch been spiked,” a deep voice rang out from the doorway. It carried the unsettling, gentle patience of a grandfather addressing a room full of energetic toddlers. “Michelle is simply acknowledging your efficiency. However, fussing over minor compliments will only inflame your nerves. At your time of life, you should be prioritising proper nourishment and adequate rest rather than agonising over social validation.”
Peter’s head jerked up in surprise.
Across the table, Ned, MJ and Flash’s trio of friends all turned simultaneously toward the sound.
Positioned right at the threshold of the dining area’s open glass door was Flash Eugene Thompson. He had not opted for the classic, nonchalant posture of leaning against the frame—a cliché Peter felt like he observed too much in high school hallways—but instead stood perfectly erect, his shoulders back and his carriage formal. His hands were tucked neatly into the pockets of a pair of tailored grey trousers, secured by a polished belt featuring the iconic intertwined GG buckle.
The letters probably stood for Genuinely Good-natured.
He looked polished, like the male lead stepping into the frame of a high-budget drama series, complete with immaculate styling and an unbothered air of supreme authority. But then Peter’s eyes drifted down to Flash’s wrist, and his brain momentarily short-circuited.
Flash was wearing an undeniably expensive luxury watch, but its face and strap were customized in a loud, vibrant pattern of bright red and brilliant blue.
It was shameless Spider-Man merchandise.
Peter felt a sudden, burning flush spread across his face and neck.
It had nothing to do with awkward romantic tension and everything to do with pure, unadulterated mortification. Peter was well aware that Flash was Spider-Man’s number-one fan, but seeing the guy proudly sport superhero-themed high fashion at a corporate headquarters made Peter—the literal hero in question—feel an acute, overwhelming wave of second-hand cringe. Flash’s skin was so thick that the embarrassment was somehow bleeding through the air and settling onto Peter’s own shoulders.
“Flash! Finally!” Jason exclaimed, throwing his arms out in welcome. “Seriously though, how could you keep this a secret from us? Remember when you said you owed me big time? Well, I am collecting that favour right now. Get me an internship here! I don’t need Pepper Potts, I’ll literally mop the floors if it gets me in!”
Julian leaned back, eyeing Flash up and down. “Flash, what are you wearing? Are you trying to pass for a thirty-year-old executive today?”
“Hey, Flash, quick question,” Rudy added as he took another big bite of his food. “Is there a weight room in the tower? Like, somewhere with actual squat racks?”
Flash surveyed the three boys. He seemed to be treating them like a pack of energetic gremlins he was responsible for civilising. Peter remained seated, observing with fascination as Jason, Julian and Rudy all pushed back their chairs to surround him. Flash walked over and executed a classic, low-key clasp-and-hug with Jason.
“Hello, boys,” Flash greeted them. He pulled back from Jason, giving him a measured look.
“Jason, I am certainly not going to abuse corporate influence to slide you through the doors. You possess plenty of raw talent, so you don’t need handouts. What I can do, however, is draft a ringing letter of recommendation for you when applications open.”
Without missing a beat, Flash reached over and thoroughly ruffled Julian’s hair. “And Julian, dressing like an adult reflects a disciplined mind.”
“Hey! Stop it!” Julian grumbled, ducking away with a scowl as he tried to restore his ruined hair.
Flash then fixed Rudy with a dry, unblinking stare. “To answer your query, Rudy, the corporate fitness centre is fully equipped with heavy power racks. But before you attempt a heavy lift, I strongly advise you to chew with your mouth closed and clean the sauce off your face.”
Flash then turned his attention to Peter, his expression softening into an easy, approachable smile. He gave a relaxed raise of his chin. “Sup, Parker?”
Peter swallowed, taking a second to recalibrate. “Uh, hey, Flash—”
He was cut off as Ned leaped out of his chair, beaming from ear to ear. “Flash! My man!” Ned grinned, stepping right into Flash’s space to initiate a flashy dap-up and a quick, affectionate shoulder bump. “Dude, it’s so awesome that you’re interning here too! It’s so cool! I mean, Peter having one is great, but yours feels like a top-tier spy movie because it was off the grid! For Peter, well, I obviously knew everything right away, but for you? Even your main inner circle was left in the dark!”
Ned whipped around to face Peter and the others, waving his arms around like a frantic traffic controller. “Okay, don’t look at me like that! I’m not trying to create an internship hierarchy or start a rivalry! I’m just making an analytical point about the suspense factor!”
Peter quietly reached for his water bottle, taking a drink. He had a sudden, uncanny feeling that if MJ ever discovered his secret identity as Spider-Man in the future, Ned would immediately barge into the conversation to announce that he was the original insider. It felt almost cinematic, like a funny moment written into a film script that Peter was somehow predicting before it even happened.
MJ rolled her eyes at Ned’s speech, then shifted her attention to Flash. “Nice try saving it, Leed,” she remarked, before giving Flash a polite nod. “Hey, Flash.”
“Hello, Michelle. It’s good to see you,” Flash said with a pleasant smile, extending a hand. MJ took it, giving him a solid, friendly handshake.
Peter stared in complete bewilderment. He had no idea when Flash and MJ had developed such a comfortable, respectful friendship. He must have been pulling a terribly judgmental face without realising it, because MJ suddenly turned her head and caught him red-handed.
“What is that face for, Parker?” she asked. “I used to consider Flash a total strain on the environment. But since he claims he had a life-changing epiphany and stopped being a tool, he has been genuinely pleasant. I believe in treating civilised people with civilised respect. Do you have a commentary on that?”
“What? No! Absolutely not!” Peter stammered out, his face burning as he nearly dropped his water bottle. “I wasn’t judging! I promise! I’m totally, one hundred per cent cool with everything!”
Flash stepped forward and draped an arm across Peter’s shoulders, giving MJ an admonishing smile. “Michelle, please, don’t badger the poor boy,” Flash chided. He patted Peter’s shoulder, leaning in slightly. “Don’t allow her to intimidate you, Parker. Though perhaps there is truth in the French proverb, qui aime bien châtie bien. In other words, we tease the ones we hold dear.”
“I am not holding anyone dear, nor am I teasing,” MJ stated flatly, rolling her eyes.
Ignoring her protest, Flash slid into the empty seat right beside Peter. He whispered, “She is lying,” giving Peter’s shoulder a friendly, comforting shake. Flash then sat up straight and gestured to the group. “Now then, everyone settle down. Come, pull up your chairs and grace your lives with my presence. I must say, I was surprised that Rudy was the brilliant soul who thought to invite me down.”
Rudy squinted through his food. “Wait, was that a compliment? Why does it feel like an insult? We all have smartphones. We all have your number. What is so complicated about ringing you up after learning you kept a secret internship from us? It isn’t like you confessed anyway. FRIDAY was the one who announced it to everyone!”
Jason gasped, clapping a hand over his heart in exaggerated shock. “Good heavens, what was in that banh mi? Since when does Rudy speak with such flawless logic?”
Julian reached over, pressing the back of his hand to Rudy’s forehead with a solemn face. “Rudy, look at me. Blink once if you’re still in there, or blink twice if an alien has taken over your body.”
Rudy slapped Julian’s hand aside. “Stop it! I’m capable of making sense! You guys act like I don’t have a brain just because I’m always hungry!”
Peter observed the banter with a light heart. He had fully anticipated this lunch break to be suffocating and tense, but it had turned out to be surprisingly comfortable. He smiled, letting out an airy laugh. Ned broke into full-blown giggles beside him, and even MJ’s lips twitched upward into a genuine smile.
Looking around the dining hall, Peter noticed a few other classmates from their tour group watching their table from a distance. When Flash caught their eyes and gave them a cheerful nod, they eagerly waved back. They were clearly giving Peter and his friends some room to breathe, undoubtedly plotting to grill someone for all the juicy gossip later on.
What Peter had feared would be a catastrophic field trip had taken an unexpected turn. He had been terrified of the embarrassment surrounding his own Stark Industries credentials, but everyone had accepted it and moved straight past it the moment a far more shocking revelation hit the floor.
Flash Eugene Thompson working as the personal intern to Pepper Potts.
It was a turn of events so bizarre that Peter was practically ready to grab a cup of tea, sit on the porch like a neighbourhood gossip and wait for the full story to unfold. Of course, he desperately wanted to know how this had happened—provided Flash was willing to spill the details, naturally!
In hindsight, Peter wished he had kept his mouth shut.
He had really and genuinely believed he was ready to play the nosy next-door auntie, patiently awaiting the local gossip. What he had not anticipated was Flash spilling every single detail so naturally, so freely and with such horrifying transparency that Peter began to question his existence.
Because what in the sacred karmic cycle of Samsara—or whatever spicy, mind-melting extra-chilli-flake Thai curry of fate he had been served—was currently happening?
Right after lunch, Peter and Flash had both been summoned up to Tony’s private lab. There, in the quiet sanctum of the upper floors, his mentor—his hero, his father figure, the found family that required no official label, though Peter secretly logged him under dad in his heart anyway—had casually dropped an absolute mega-bomb.
As it turned out, Eugene “Flash” Thompson was a time traveller.
Not just any time traveller, but one who had literally died in a future, woken up back in his younger body and immediately sprinted to Pepper Potts and Tony Stark to fix the timeline. Flash had laid out everything that had gone right and wrong in that original timeline, including one terrifying, incomprehensible detail: at some point shortly after the whole world learned Peter Parker was Spider-Man, something happened that caused every single person on Earth to forget Peter ever existed.
No one knew how. No one knew why. It had simply happened.
Okay. Peter officially took every optimistic thought back. Today was, in fact, a catastrophe.
“Kid, you look freezing,” Tony muttered, his brows knitting together in genuine concern as he looked Peter up and down. “Are you cold? Yeah, you are definitely cold.” Without waiting for an answer, Tony grabbed a plush throw blanket from the lounge sofa and wrapped it tightly around Peter’s shoulders.
“Stay right there. I’m making you a hot chocolate.” He held up a finger to cut off Peter’s incoming objection. “Yes, I’m fully aware it is the middle of the afternoon and not remotely the right season for it, but you look like you’re about to go into shock and you need something warm to anchor you.”
Flash, who was seated right next to Peter, tilted his head and offered a critique. “Dr Stark, giving Parker a concentrated shot of hot sugar and milk is hardly the most therapeutic option. An herbal infusion tea—perhaps lemon balm—would facilitate proper circulation and calm his adrenal response far better than chocolate ever could.”
“Thank you for the unsolicited medical advice, Flash, but I am sticking to my instincts,” Tony fired back with a playful smirk, already walking out of the glass doors. “I swear, your obsession with tea belongs in a retirement home.”
Peter hardly registered Tony leaving. He sat frozen under the weight of the blanket, his eyes fixed on the floating glass boards in the centre of the room. The screens were filled with dense data streams and probability algorithms that Flash had laid out with Tony and Pepper earlier.
However, Peter could not even begin to process the erased memories or the secret identity crisis—his mind was stuck on the physics of time travel itself. If Flash’s consciousness had utilised a closed time-like curve, or if the mind’s neuro-electric signature had somehow quantum-entangled across parallel realities to overwrite his past self.
Then, he felt a soft, gentle hand rest over his own.
Peter blinked, looking over to see Pepper leaning down slightly.
“Are you holding up okay, sweetie?” she asked softly, giving his hand a delicate squeeze.
“I... I think I’m okay,” Peter managed to say, forcing a small smile and giving Pepper’s warm hand a gentle squeeze in return.
He stared blankly ahead for a second.
“Actually, let me recap to see if I have got this right. Flash died as an old man and travelled back in time to tell us that a giant purple alien attacks, the Rogue Avengers eventually clear things up after hiding out in Wakanda and locked away in prison, and the entire universe gets snapped out of existence for five years before being brought back. Oh, and as for me? An elemental illusionist reveals to the public that I am Spider-Man, villains from alternate dimensions break into our universe, news reports claim three Spider-Men were seen fighting at the Statue of Liberty, and then suddenly—poof. Everyone forgets who I am. My records vanish. My life gets erased.”
Peter took a deep breath.
“So, yes. Overall, doing fantastic.”
Flash held up a finger, offering Peter a disappointed look. “Technically, your chronological sequence is out of order, Parker. If this were listed on a fan wiki or a Disney Plus timeline watch-guide, you would be roasted in the comment section. You’re mixing up Phase Three and Phase Four.”
Flash cleared his throat. “First of all, we’re currently right after Captain America: Civil War. Before any giant purple alien shows up, we have to deal with the immediate aftermath: Black Panther over in Wakanda, and Spider-Man: Homecoming—which, by the way, is happening right now with your school life. Then comes Thor: Ragnarok, which leads directly into the opening scene of Avengers: Infinity War where the purple titan attacks. Then comes the five-year time jump in Avengers: Endgame, which is where the time heist happens to bring everyone back!”
He took a breath. “And regarding the Rogue Avengers who left Dr Stark bleeding in Siberia, the moment they get pardoned and step back onto American soil, I shall personally give them a piece of my mind. The audacity to abandon the man who funded their lives, housed them and kept them safe, only to stab him in the back over a treaty. It’s utterly abhorrent, and I won’t hesitate to deliver a severe verbal dressing-down to every single one of them.”
Pepper let out a soft, appreciative hum. “I would be deeply honoured if you did that, Flash. I’m holding back from doing it myself, so hearing you put them in their place would be magnificent.”
Flash nodded before turning back to Peter. “And then, Parker, after Endgame, you get Spider-Man: Far From Home with the elemental illusionist, leading directly into Spider-Man: No Way Home with the Statue of Liberty battle. You cannot just skip entire character arcs and movie entries like that!”
Peter blinked, processing the overwhelming influx of wiki-level chronological data. He looked from Pepper’s proud expression over to Flash’s stern face, his mind slowly shifting away from the multiversal chaos toward a much simpler, immediate question.
“Right... Okay, but... how did you actually end up as Pepper’ personal intern in the first place?”
A tiny wince crossed Peter’s face as soon as the words left his mouth. He mentally beat himself up. Of all the cosmic mysteries, timeline branches and dramatic battles he could have inquired about, he had chosen to ask about human resources paperwork.
Flash gave him a look of utter, unadulterated deadpan exasperation.
“Unbelievable, Parker,” Flash muttered, rubbing his temples. “There are infinite parallel realities and grand battles ahead, yet you choose to ask about my resume. Out of every question in the universe, that is where your mind goes?”
Pepper could not contain her amusement and broke into a soft laughter. “You two are hilarious. I swear, having you both as interns is the most entertaining part of my week.” She gave Peter a comforting pat on the arm and turned to Flash. “Would you like to give him the explanation, or shall I?”
“I’m happy to tell him, Miss Potts,” Flash said smoothly, maintaining a polite tone before frowning slightly. “Although I’m beginning to wonder what is taking Doctor Stark so long to bring Parker a drink. The guy looks stunned. A warm beverage might bring him back to reality.”
Peter pouted. “I’m right here, you know! And I’m fine!”
His complaints were ignored.
“I will go and see what is keeping him,” Pepper said, rising to her feet.
“Boss is currently engaged in an intense staring contest with the kettle in the secondary kitchen,” FRIDAY announced. “He appears to be overcomplicating the simple act of making tea. Your presence is required to prevent him from redesigning the hot water tap.”
Peter sympathised with Mr Stark.
The man was a brilliant mind, yet everybody had a flaw. Peter was famously useless when it came to making tea. Everyone always insisted that it was just a tea bag in hot water, but Peter somehow produced an undrinkable catastrophe every single time. Hearing Mr Stark struggle with the exact same mundane task only increased Peter’s respect for him. If anything, it made him like Mr Stark even more.
Maybe Peter should finally take the plunge and start calling the man ‘Tony’. The man had nagged him to do for months.
“Hey,” Flash called out quietly.
Peter hummed in response, “Hmm?”
“Are you actually fine?” Flash asked, searching Peter’s face. “We can stop and do this later. I realise I have dumped an awful lot on you all at once.”
“Thanks, Flash, but yeah... that was a lot,” Peter replied. “Because honestly, who opens a conversation by dropping the bomb that they are a seventy-year-old time traveller who reincarnated as the main character? I am less shocked by the actual time travel and more amazed by your sheer audacity.”
Flash huffed. “Mind your manners, Parker. Kids these days have zero manners. You should be showing some respect to your seniors instead of giving me lip.”
Peter gave him an unamused stare. “Please. Never speak like you’re seventy ever again, it’s unsettling.”
Flash smirked. “It isn’t audacity, Parker. It’s sheer charisma. Unless... are you just afraid you might fall for my charm? Or have you secretly discovered that you have a thing for older gentlemen?”
Without breaking eye contact, Peter called out, “FRIDAY, please project a meme of a gagging cat.”
A vibrant blue light shimmered in the air between them, displaying a holographic video of a cat making an exaggerated, dramatic retching face. Flash burst into a laugh and shook his head fondly. He reached over and patted Peter on the shoulder. “Never change, Parker.”
Peter let a small, genuine smile slip through his deadpan facade. “Right. So, are you actually going to tell me how you got recruited by Pepper in the first place?”
“It was nothing extraordinarily grand,” Flash replied, waving his hand nonchalantly. “It certainly wasn’t like your recruitment with Doctor Stark. No one showed up in my bedroom so I could offer some lame excuse.” He chuckled at Peter’s gasp before continuing, “No, I was simply working at a café that I knew Miss Potts frequented. I used a bit of networking, got my father to help, and even managed to score social studies credits for it. Pepper appeared, and I handed her a set of documents containing every piece of crucial information about time travel, the future, and its consequences.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “Wow. That’s scheming. But... Did Pepper really just believe you that easily?”
Flash gave a slight shrug, leaning back in his chair. “Well, to be frank, the logic is something the author did not think through. But what actually happened was that I gave her the envelope, and she left. She must have opened it, caught sight of something undeniable and ran back into the café to recruit me on the spot.”
Peter held his tongue. Blimey, the author’s arrogance is off the charts. He knew he belonged to the sacred trinity of characters constantly thrown into fanfictions and crossovers across the internet, but he had never expected to find himself in a universe where the writer openly confessed to being such a lazy arse without a shred of shame.
Flash chuckled softly, seemingly picking up on Peter’s quiet judgement. “Don’t be so quick to condemn the old hag, Parker. They’re putting in the effort. At the end of the day, even if we’re fictional, we’re still us. The mark of a proper story is when the characters take on a life of their own, making their own choices while the author just acts as an observer taking down notes.”
Peter hesitated for a second. “Right... thanks?” He really could not fathom why knowing about their lack of real-world existence required a whole lecture on free will, but he decided to appreciate the reassurance regardless.
“I’ve returned victorious,” Mr Stark declared, making an entrance as he carried a tray into the private lab. “I present to you the hot chocolate. Making tea is an overly complicated process that no human should suffer through, but this was pure expertise.” He carefully placed the tray onto the coffee table between the two teenagers and gave Flash a pointed look. “You ought to feel deeply privileged, Flash. You’re receiving room service directly from Iron Man.”
Flash took a cup from the tray, casually blowing on the steam. “This is the absolute minimum you could offer me. I’m literally the protagonist holding this fix-it reality together. I could have easily chosen to become a supervillain and ruin everything, but I chose peace instead.”
Peter picked up his mug with a small, contented smile and took a sip. The drink was delicious. Almost instantly, a soothing warmth settled in his stomach, easing the tension in his shoulders.
Mr Stark gasped. “The utter disrespect!”
“Mentally speaking, I am the senior citizen here. My physical body might be teenage, but my mind is seventy years old.”
Mr Stark was just about to launch into a full debate when Pepper re-entered, chuckling softly at the sight. “Please, both of you, hold your fire,” she said. “You sound like two elderly retirees arguing over a chess match. It’s so absurd.”
Mr Stark scoffed in mock indignation, moving over to sit on the arm of Peter’s chair. He reached down, carefully adjusting the soft blanket resting over Peter’s lap to make sure he was warm. “I’m just setting boundaries,” he muttered, before eyeing Flash. “Did he fill you in on the major details, kid? Because I’m still offended by the idea that people somehow forgot who you were in his original timeline. How does an entire planet just lose track of Peter Parker?”
Peter looked down at his warm mug. “But... can we please talk about the fact that you died?”
Mr Stark paused. “Whoa, hold on, kiddo. We are not touching that topic today.”
“Yeah, but...” Peter fell silent, staring blankly at the dark liquid in his cup. He was only just starting to settle into this incredible routine, looking up to Tony Stark with every fibre of his being. The thought of a future where a threat descended, forcing Iron Man to sacrifice his life and leave Peter alone, was utterly horrifying. What if this timeline was not as safe as they thought?
“Hey, kid. Bring it back,” Mr Stark urged gently, resting a warm hand on Peter’s shoulder to pull him out of his dark thoughts. When Peter looked up, he noticed that Flash and Pepper had moved across the room, chatting softly by the workbench to grant them some quiet space.
The billionaire looked at him with visible worry etched across his face. “Listen to me, Peter. Stop thinking about the ‘what ifs’. That terrible future is not going to happen here. Flash is a smart kid despite his attitude, and our plans are already in full motion. We’re speed-running this fix-it alternate universe, largely because the simple-minded old hag writing this story can’t handle complex angst anyway.”
Peter let out a small, quiet sob, quickly wiping his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. “Please don’t complain like that. What if the author gets petty and decides to start writing heavy trauma? Do you want them to turn this into a long, dark, soul-crushing alternate universe where everyone dies and I suffer endless psychological torture?”
“Whoa, take it down a notch, kid. Don’t go breaking the fourth wall like that. Leave that to Deadpool. You are breaking the reader’s immersion.”
Peter snorted through his tears. “There is no immersion to break in the first place. This is a crack fic.”
“Alright, fair point,” Tony admitted. “However, as your elder, I am enforcing a mandatory change of topic. When are you actually going to start calling me Tony? ‘Mr Stark’ is far too formal.”
Peter sniffled. “Flash calls you Doctor Stark. And so do all your employees.”
“Flash is an old man who needs to learn respect, and my staff are paid to be formal,” Tony countered smoothly. “Besides, are you just an employee? No. You are my personal intern and my absolute favourite kid. In fact, I do not even like children in general because I am not running a Miss Universe pageant, so you are literally the only one I tolerate.”
Peter let out a watery laugh, smiling even as a tiny sob escaped his throat. He shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands. “Gosh... today has been such a roller coaster. It went from chaos to tragic depression and back to utter crack nonsense so quickly.”
Mr Stark gently wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling the teenager closer as the tension in the room finally began to dissipate. They lapsed into a quiet, easy rhythm, casually chatting about random, mundane topics to keep Peter’s mind grounded.
Somewhere in the middle of a soft debate about fast food, Peter naturally let the word ‘Tony’ slip out instead of his usual formal title. To his relief, Tony did not make a grand spectacle of it or ruin the moment, simply allowing the conversation to flow without missing a single beat.
Their quiet moment was soon interrupted when Flash marched back into the lab, holding an open laptop. Right behind him walked a young woman carrying a stack of digital tablets. Her name was Miss Cookie, and her official role as Flash and Pepper’s shared assistant was too complicated to explain. As she introduced herself, she openly confessed to being a mere background character who was originally meant to appear once and be tossed aside, but Flash had stubbornly insisted on keeping her around, successfully fighting to get her back onto the screen.
Before anyone could question her presence further, FRIDAY’s voice chimed in. “Peter, Flash, the Midtown Tech field trip is drawing to a close. There is approximately an hour and a half remaining on the schedule. Please inform me if you both still wish to rejoin your classmates for the final portion of the tour.”
Tony clapped his hands together, breaking the quiet atmosphere. “Alright, kids, you heard the lady! Time to wrap it up and get back to the masses.” He gave Peter a light nudge and glanced toward Flash. “Even you, Thompson. You have been absent from your own school trip all morning, but since you are here, you might as well go down and play student for a bit.”
“Tony is right,” Pepper agreed, offering them a warm smile. “The grand finale of the Stark Industries tour is something you really ought not to miss. Peter, I’m quite sure you haven’t even seen it yet. We revamped our educational tour programmes after hiring some brilliant new staff, including Miss Nana, your tour guide.”
Peter listened quietly while sitting right next to Flash, who was busy scribbling down complex multiversal equations while quietly explaining the foundational principles of the Spider-Society and a man named Miguel O’Hara. Peter blinked, looking up from Flash’s notebook toward Pepper.
“What is so special about the ending of the tour?”
Pepper chuckled, a fond look in her eyes. “Well, Miss Nana and her rather eccentric department put together a grand interactive finale. It’s a state-of-the-art nautical simulation featuring high-seas adventures and mythical treasure hunts, all powered by our modern arc technology. Her team is... well, an unusually loud group. You have a security head who constantly gets lost in straight corridors, a chef in the cafeteria who refuses to let anyone waste food, a soft-spoken doctor who looks like a small reindeer mascot and a mechanic who insists on building giant, ridiculous wooden robots.”
“You left out the ringleader, Pepper,” Tony interjected, shivering as if a chill had just swept through the room. “The guy who runs around acting like he owns the building. He possesses approximately two brain cells, yet somehow he is frighteningly perceptive when he wants to be. He is a good kid, though. Miraculously, Nana manages to keep him from destroying the foundations.”
Tony paused, tapping his chin. “Not to mention the dark-haired archaeologist, the sharpshooter with a nose for drama and the literal skeleton who plays the violin. I still have no idea why an R and D division requires a living skeleton musician, but I stopped questioning it months ago.”
Peter speculated whether the writer was subtly slipping in references while desperately avoiding an official crossover to sidestep copyright issues. Still, it hardly mattered to him. He did not recognise a single person being described, but if Tony and Pepper trusted them, they were probably harmless enough.
Flash was already on his feet, zipping up his jacket. He tossed a folded garment directly into Peter’s lap. “Wear Doctor Stark’s MIT hoodie. The temperature control downstairs is ice.”
Peter caught the thick jumper and put it on without argument, though he glared at Flash. “Can you please stop treating me like a toddler?”
Flash flicked Peter’s forehead. “I’m not treating you like a small child, Parker. This is just the traditional, respectful guidance that an elder offers to the youth.”
Peter immediately clapped a hand over his forehead. The flick had possessed zero power behind it, but Peter was far too dramatic to forfeit an opportunity to act like a victim. “I literally asked you an hour ago to never speak like an old man again,” he grumbled, giving Flash a flat, unamused look. “It gives me chills, and not the good kind.”
Flash grinned, already turning on his heel and walking gracefully toward the exit. Peter fell into step right beside him without a second thought. “What is the matter, Parker?” Flash teased lightly, glancing sideways at him. “Are you getting flustered? Am I somehow managing to flutter your delicate little heart?”
Peter felt some heat rush straight to his cheeks, turning his face bright pink. “Oh my gosh, stop! Please, no rizz on me!” he cried out, covering his face with his hands in sheer second-hand embarrassment. “That is so wildly cringe! I am physically cringing into another dimension!”
Flash threw his head back and laughed heartily. He reached out and slung an arm over Peter’s shoulders, giving him a quick shake. “Sorry, sorry! It’s just classic bromance, Parker. Calm yourself down.”
Peter rolled his eyes in exasperation, but he made no move to dislodge Flash’s arm as they reached the private elevator bay. The doors parted to welcome them inside.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” FRIDAY announced. “The Midtown High tour group is currently assembling in the primary lobby to experience the conclusion of Miss Nana’s maritime exhibition. I am taking you directly to their location.”
As the elevator glided downward, Peter stood beside Flash, feeling the steady weight of his arm. It felt natural and comforting, leading Peter to think that maybe this whole unexpected bromance thing was the real deal after all.
“Hey, Flash,” Peter said unexpectedly, looking up.
Flash did not move his arm, merely giving a slight nod. “Hmm?”
Peter offered him a smile. “Thank you.”
He was grateful to Flash for being such a good friend, for trusting him with the massive truth about the future, and for stepping up to change everything for the better. He was thankful for the way Flash now embraced both him and Ned as friends, and for the way he had brought joy to their entire class. Most of all, Peter was thankful for how Flash had helped heal the adults around them, bringing laughter to Pepper and lifting a weight off Tony’s shoulders.
Flash looked at him, visibly confused by the sudden emotional outburst. “For what?”
Peter’s expression shattered into a cheeky smile. “For being my ultimate fanboy, of course!” And without giving Flash a single second to react, Peter yelled, “Race you to the class! Let us see if your elderly joints can handle a simple sprint!”
The elevator chimed, the doors sliding back to reveal the crowded atrium. Peter shot out of the lift like a cannonball, sprinting across the polished floor toward their classmates. “I’m not even using my superpowers! Hurry up, granddad!”
Peter’s laughter echoed through the hall. Even without turning around, he knew that Flash was standing by the elevator, shaking his head at him with a grin.
Their story had begun as a wreck of impossible timelines and chaotic mistakes—a reality that should have been doomed from the very beginning. Still, despite starting with what seemed like a concept deeply flawed by blueprint, they had somehow managed to rewrite the draft into the happiest ending possible.
The moment Peter stepped into the atrium, his senses picked up the atmosphere of the interactive simulation. High-definition holograms projected rolling waves around the room, accompanied by the distinct smell of sea salt and the roar of the ocean. In the middle of the set stood a young man in an SI uniform, sporting a red vest and a classic straw hat with a red ribbon tied around the base.
The young man grinned broadly, letting out a bright, boisterous laugh—shishishi!—as he waved at the arriving students. “Welcome, welcome! I’m super happy to have new crew members today!” he announced loudly. “My name is Monkey D. L—”
Miss Nana tackled him from the side, clamping her hand over his mouth. “Shut your mouth!” she hissed, smacking the back of his head. “We talked about this!” She cleared her throat and offered a strained, cheerful smile to the audience. “Please ignore him! His name is... Duffy! Just Duffy!”
Peter grinned, walking over to blend in with Ned and MJ.
A few feet away, Rudy, Jason and Julian all turned around, their faces lighting up with bright smiles as Flash finally rejoined the class. Cindy playfully punched Flash on the arm, demanding to know how he had been sneaky enough to ditch the entire tour.
From the front of the room, the straw-hatted guide pointed heroically toward the simulated ocean. “Alright, entire crew assembled! Set course, and let us sail to infinity and beyond!”
Peter broke into a full laugh, while the three-sword-wielding security guard leaning against the wall pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hey,” the guard grunted dryly, “are we really not going to get sued for copyright with him saying that?”
