Chapter Text
“It didn’t work.”
Peter jumps, banging his hand on his desk in the process. He swears at the sharp pain and swivels around in his chair.
“How did you sneak up on me? We can literally sense everything. And how’d you even find me? It’s been a few weeks and-“
“Yeah, man, it was so hard to find you! Do you know how difficult it is to find someone who not a single person knows? Incredibly hard!”
Peter swallows, looking up at the two Peters skillfully crawling in through the window of the new apartment. He’s suddenly a bit self-conscious of the room itself, its bareness, and how obvious it is that all of his belongings are his failing attempts to stake some residual claim on his old life.
“How did you find me? And how are you still here?”
Peter 2 furrows his brow, glancing over at Peter 3 before opening his mouth to speak.
“Like he said, not much to go on. A lot of trying to trace your steps, since you kind of swung away after the fact. The magic doctor didn’t know squat anymore about Spider-Man, so he couldn’t help; it was like he didn’t even know what went down.”
Peter 3 wrung his hands before continuing, “After the guys were cured and went back, we didn’t. I thought I had time to tend to this guy’s,” he wiggles a finger at Peter 2, “little injury but by the time we were done with that we realized neither of us had gone anywhere. Too late to ask any questions either.”
Peter’s eyes widened. The fact that this was something he couldn’t help with, that Dr. Strange had no idea about, was a lot to process. He was only just now settling into this new place, his new circumstances. He took a shuddering breath.
Peter 2 puts a hand on his shoulder and tries to look reassuringly at the younger man, “Hey, listen. We’re not in any hurry. You’re in a really rough place, we know. We’re just glad we found you. That’s what matters.”
Smiling softly, Peter 3 nods in agreement, “Yeah. I definitely don’t have anywhere to be.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “If we’re being honest I think what we need most right now is a place to crash.”
“And we thought you could do with some company.” Peter 2 nods.
The youngest of the three’s chin was pointed toward his chest, his head down as he tried to breathe and collect his thoughts.
“I’m so sorry I caused you to come here,” he whispered.
Peter 3’s eyes widen, and he crouches to meet Peter’s gaze, “Hey, no,” he smiled sadly, “you don’t have to keep apologizing to us. We got to meet each other. Meet you. That’s a gift. That was something good, man.”
Peter sniffled and looked up at the pair of them. “I know I didn’t tell you before I thought you went home. But I asked him to make everyone forget. Forget me. You’re right, there’s no one who knows me now. Except for this landlord, I guess. He’s kind of terrible.”
Peter 2 stoops down to come shoulder to shoulder with Peter 3. He furrows his brow again and searches for Peter’s eyes. “How are you doing?” He asks, almost cautiously. All three of them already know the answer to that question.
“Definitely, um,” Petter swallows, “definitely not great. I uh, I’m working on a new suit. Keeping busy. I went by MJ’s work and then left and cried like a baby. Visited May’s grave and Happy was there and obviously he didn’t know me…” He trails off, finally letting his eyes well up, but not letting any tears fall. Peter 2 rubs his shoulder in an almost dad-like gesture.
Peter 3 had moved to sit on the corner of Peter’s desk, his eyes welling up similarly. He clears his throat.
“Are you even 18 yet?” he whispers. Peter 2 pulls his mouth into a taut line and glances at Peter for his response.
Peter chuckles darkly, “not ‘til next August. Had to lie on my application here.”
“Man,” Peter 3 sighs and shudders. “You’re so young.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
Peter 2 stiltedly pats the top of Peter’s head once before moving back to sit on the edge of his bed. He glances around the room for a few silent, lingering seconds, before speaking again. “Is there anything we can do to help? Before we figure out how to get back home, I mean.”
Peter was still in awe of the two men in front of him. They were him , but not him, all at the same time. Now that the stakes were gone and the battle was over, he had time to just look at them. These two selfless guys, just sitting in front of him in his room. They had been through things, lost people, lived their lives similar to his. He scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Gah, that’s really-” he sighed, “that’s really nice of you. I don’t know, um. You guys can crash here since you need a place to stay. I can take the floor. Or something.”
Peter 2 drew his mouth in another tight line. “We’ll make it work. Thanks, kid.”
So they make the most of the dingy, tiny studio. Cots set up in the living space, makeshift lab in the kitchenette. They brainstorm and get takeout and buy a Christmas tree after Peter finds out he can get paid for sending in pictures of Spider-Man to the Bugle. Peter 2 teaches him all the best setups for action shots and Peter finds he actually really likes taking pictures. Who'da thunk.
Things are kind of tricky because apparently, while the spell made everyone forget Peter Parker, it didn’t make anyone forget their memories of Spider-Man, it merely altered them. Going to Dr. Strange in his suit proves to be successful in that he knows him as Spider-Man, but all attempts to convince him that he cast that spell are futile.
“If I had cast a memory spell of the magnitude that you’re suggesting, I would remember, Spider-Man. Seriously, what has gotten into you? We’ve barely spoken outside of battle before now.” Stephen huffs, Peter trailing after him as he paces the Sanctum.
“I know it sounds crazy, sir. You told me you would forget me too, and I was okay with that, but the two other me’s didn’t go back when they were supposed to. They’re stranded here and can’t get back to their home universes, and I feel really guilty. I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who can help.”
Stephen sighs, stopping and turning to face Peter. “I’m really sorry, Spider-Man, but I don’t know you that well and I’m up to my knees in trouble right now with Wong. Give me a call in a few weeks and I might be able to help with your problem but to be quite blunt, we have bigger fish to fry.” He opens a portal, and quickly, Peter is on the steps of the front door, shut out.
Peter sighs, and quickly takes off swinging toward the apartment, his frustration and guilt weighing on him.