Archive of Our Own

Peter woke up feeling terrible.

His room was still dark; only the barest of sunlight made its way through his closed curtains, hiding the start of dawn. He could still hear Aunt May bustling around in the living room through the thin walls though, despite how incredibly early it was. Peter turned himself over beneath his comforter, not quite ready to embrace the day.

His ribs ached from the bruising and breakage still healing of the damage days ago, and the dull throb of his side combined with the feeling of a pounding start of a migraine came together in a swirl of nausea. The headache had been with Peter nonstop for the past few days, but this morning it seemed to flare especially worse.

Groaning, he curled into himself tighter. He was exhausted. Peter wasn’t even entirely sure he had slept- with the amount of tossing and turning every few minutes all through the night, it was no surprise. It was his new normal, he supposed; his body seemed like it couldn’t allow him to give in to the call of sleep any longer than he could take to properly get comfortable.

He was running on practical fumes. The first night after the battle, Peter didn’t sleep. Visions plagued his mind every time he closed his eyes, flashes of the explosions that had thrown him to the ground wailed in his ears, the gore of bodies, both of horrifying creatures and people, seemed to cover him head to toe. He saw Mr. Stark and his burning wounds and dark veins that sprawled up his arm and towards his face, towards his eyes, now so vacant and empty-

So yeah. The first night was rough. He’d ended up staying awake with Aunt May, sitting in silence, curled together on their sofa in their new little apartment until the sun broke the horizon, relishing in each others presence.

The second and third night weren’t any easier; it was close to near a week after was Peter able to finally lie down in his actual bed and close his eyes. It was never long- the longest he’s been able to sleep without jerking awake so far has only been three hours, and that was only after an inadvertent nap somewhere between his 32-to-38 hour mark of no sleep.

Last night had been particularly rough. Aunt May had told him the other day Pepper had finally brought herself to put together the funeral service, and it was happening. Today.

Peter groaned again.

The memory sent a stab of guilt through him. He’s been ignoring everyone, Pepper especially. Everytime he thought about her, a new surge of penitence overcame Peter. Everyday, without fail, he’s received a phone call from the woman.

His first couple days back were the worst. Every hour he seemed to have a new face trying to get a hold of him- Happy had blown up his phone mere hours after May and him returned home, followed by Rhodey and Pepper respectively. At one point he was sure in between the wave of calls, he had seen Ned's name appear once or twice. But no matter the time of day, Peter could never bring himself the answer.

May never pushed him to pick up the calls. It was a small blessing, to have someone know. Of course, she could never know what he went through, the same way he would never know what she has gone through; fighting in two practical wars, one right after the other in Peter's eyes, and having the last person you could call family disappear for five years straight, both horrific in their own morbid way. Despite how different their traumas were though, May still held this sense of understanding nobody else he's spoken with thus far seemed to have.

And of course, no matter how bad he felt about it, Peter still couldn't answer the phone. The guilt of mercilessly letting the phone ring out couldn't overpower the guilt of the outcome of the battle. How could he stand to look Pepper in the eyes? How could he even stand in Happy or Rhodey’s presence again?

Answering the phone meant giving the few other people in his life he’d thought he’d be able to get close with the chance to chew him out, and that thought alone was enough to scare him away from the ringing.

And he hated himself for it. He hated it so much, but how could they not be angry with him? Peter was acting like a coward. Running from his mistakes, leaving the consequences of the battle for every other capable person to deal with, and then ignoring them on top of it all. He was only making it worse for himself. But he couldn’t skip out on the funeral. He couldn’t do that to Tony.

It was a tsunami, he realized. Building up since the war, waves pulling back further and further into themselves to create one massive bundle. It grew taller and taller with each passing day, taller until it towered above the walls he’s mentally created. It draws back and back every passing moment until one day he knows it will force itself forward and come crashing down around him.

He doesn’t think he will ever be ready for that day.

There was a timid knock on his door. Aunt May's face appears in his frame, giving him a smile. Peter returned it weakly.

"Morning," she said quietly, stepping towards the center of the room. "How'd you sleep?"

Peter shrugged the best he could from where he was laying down. "Fine."

They both knew it was a lie. May remained calm though, the slight downturn of her lips the only show on her face that she was well aware of the fib.

“Well,” she sighed, sitting on the edge of Peter’s bed, “I hate to do it, but it’s time to get up.”

Peter curled his legs up closer to his chest. May frowned at him, her hand coming down to rest on the crown of his head.

“Please don’t make me go,” he muttered, turned so his face smothered into his pillow. He felt the hand smoothing down his curls.

“Peter-”

“Please?”

May sighed again, sounding run down. Peter’s fault, it was all his fault.

“Sweetie, you know you’re going to regret it if you don’t go,” she said, voice quiet. Peter’s throat burned.

“... I know.”

“It’s hard,” May agreed. Her fingers pulled loosely at a knot. “But it’s a part of life. When Ben died…” She trailed off, voice grief-stricken. “When he died, I almost didn’t go.”

“I remember.” It had been terrifying. He’d never seen his aunt act like that in his life, so desperately heartbroken and helpless, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle seeing it again.

“But my friend made me, and I will forever be grateful.” Her hand swiped across his forehead, pushing the hair back from his eyes. “I almost made the worst decision of my life, and you are, too.”

Peter huffed.

“I’ll be beside you the entire time, okay? You need to talk to Pep-”

“I can’t,” Peter pushed himself up, staring intently at May. “I-I can’t talk to her.”

“Why not?”

She hates me, she’s angry, she probably never wants to see my face again. “I just- can’t.”

May fixed Peter with a stern look, one he hasn’t actually received from her since he’s been back. Oh, shit. “Peter Benjamin Parker-” oh dear god, “- I know for a fact you are not ignoring this poor woman-”

“No-”

“- every single day I have to call her to let her know you’re okay. Peter, she worries about you. How do you not get that?”

“You just- you just don’t get it.” Peter looked desperately at his aunt. “Pepper, she- you weren’t there, May. I could’ve- I just feel like there’s something I could’ve done. And Pepper- she knows it. There’s no way she’s not mad-”

The palm of May’s hand rested against the side of Peter’s face. “Hey, hey,” she said, voice softening, “calm down, deep breaths, okay?” They sat together for a moment, silent, before she started speaking again. “Let me promise you, she’s not mad at you. At all. You ignoring her isn’t helping in any way though- hell, not even just her, but Happy and Rhodey too? Come on, Peter.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, averting his eyes.

“No, it’s fine, I get it, but-” There was a second where May closed her eyes in time with a deep inhale, where she looked utterly exhausted, stressed, “-you need to talk this out. You’re overthinking again.”

Problem was, Peter was still skeptical. Aunt May had always been the optimist out of the pair of her and Ben, and Peter, ever the impressionable child at the time, followed in her footsteps. Still, while Peter would consider himself a natural optimist, May seemed to be of the more forced variety- she managed to maintain her happiness to its full extent to keep calm in the most frenzied positions. She didn’t seem to simply be happy in most scenarios by pure compulsion, as much as it was forced to a barely manic degree.

To say Peter really trusted her judgement right now would be a complete lie.

Still, he forced out a meek, “okay,” just to get off the topic; just simply talking about it was tiring.

May pushed herself up from where she had slumped down beside Peter to the edge of his bed again. “So,” she looked at him questioningly, “we still going?”

Peter went quiet again, but before he could freak himself out of his sudden burst of confidence he forced out the painful words. “I guess.”

May gave him a beaming smile. “That’s my boy.” She smoothed his curls back before resting both of her hands on either side of his face. Her rings burned cold against his cheeks.

She stood, stretching her back with a yawn. “Your suit’s in the closet- hurry up, now. We got quite the drive ahead of us.” She headed for the door, going to close it behind her before she turned back towards him. “Maybe if you’re quick enough, we can stop for breakfast on the way,” she whispered loudly, sending him a playful wink.

The proposition of food made Peter feel sick again, but nevertheless he tried to muster the energy to smile at May as she left. As soon as his door clicked shut, he dropped it with a heavy exhale.

His room was still dark. He could hear May humming quietly through the walls.

Ignoring the pain in his ribs and the swimming in his vision, Peter stood, heading towards his closet to begin getting ready for the long day ahead of him.

There were a lot of places Peter was expecting to pull into, but a log cabin was not one of them.

It was by no means dingy and derelict like what he typically thought of when log cabins came to mind. It looked well-kept and new, standing tall amidst the towering trees. A golden glow settled across the scene from the sun rising over a lake's horizon; it was so out of place for the moment, Peter couldn't begin to admire the beauty of it.

Aunt May turned the car off, and looked to Peter. He kept his haggard gaze forward stubbornly.

"You okay?” Peter nodded. “You’re fine. Everything’s fine, see? People are already here.”

Unfortunately, she wasn’t wrong. May had pulled in beside an already formed line of cars, and he could even see movement through the opened windows of the cabin.

Peter took in a shaky breath.

At some point, Peter must’ve spaced out, because the next thing he knew May was nudging his shoulder. “Remember, deep breaths.”

“Thanks.” His voice was ragged.

“Listen, I promised I would go in and help Pepper-” god, even hearing the name sent a spike of fear through him- “-with last minute things. I understand if you don’t want to go in quite yet though.”

May was unbuckling her seatbelt and opening her door, so Peter followed suite, clumsily stepping out of the car. “N-No,” he mustered, despite the terror rolling through him, “I can come with you.”

May hummed. “Are you sure sweetie? You can- oh! She’s coming over now!”

If simply hearing Pepper’s name struck fear in Peter, the absolute horror of actually seeing the woman in person was paralyzing.

She was donned in a slim black dress and a brilliant smile as she steadily made her way towards where Peter and his aunt stood. No matter how much he tried to avoid it, her and Peter locked eyes, and he felt frozen on the spot.

Even as May was stepping forward to greet Pepper with a hug, Peter found that he couldn’t move. He was just staring, almost uncomprehendingly, at the duo, almost expecting to be screamed at, for the yelling to pick up until it drew the attention of others and they too came to join in. The tsunami came and swept him off his feet and in that moment it was as though he was floating. He wasn’t even aware he was moving.

When May and Pepper turned around, Peter was gone.

Peter sorta figured running was a low blow, but he couldn’t help it- the tsunami had came and swept him away and it didn’t even matter anymore.

He sat behind a tree and cried until they were ready to begin the service.

The funeral was small.

Peter recognized almost everyone from the battle, from the strange group he had been left with on Titan, to the even stranger, yet kind glowing woman who had hauled him out of the ditch where he’d pathetically been curled up with the gauntlet. This time however, instead of rugged gear and dirty faces, everyone was donned in sleek black, not unlike the suit Peter wore himself.

The Avengers themselves were there, a feat he could not wrap his numb mind behind. That’s all it was, numb. Numb, as he vaguely noticed national icon Captain America himself was stationed right in front of him, and an actual god merely a few steps behind. Numb, as he watched Pepper walk the aisle, the bundle of leafy flowers and Tony’s old arc reactor gently placed atop in her hands. Numb, as he watched the bouquet drift away on the lake’s surface steadily.

Few words were spoken. Heavy silence blanketed the small crowd, dozens of somber gazes trained on the bed that bobbed away into the horizon.

And just as fast as it seemed to have started, it was over. A low buzz erupted from the crowd. Aunt May squeezed his shoulder gently. Peter did not move.

“Honey,” his aunt spoke softly in his ear. A hand came up to swipe through his hair. “You alright?” She did not acknowledge his disappearing act from earlier, which he was grateful for.

Peter remained silent. His heart was racing, a sudden adrenaline pumping into his veins, making his fingers jump and breath hitch. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

“Peter?” Aunt May stepped into his view. He watched as her brows drew together in concern, and a hand was placed just along his jaw.

“It’s alright, baby,” she murmured, after a second of allowing her eyes to sweep over him. “You stay right here, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

With that, Aunt May slipped away, not before giving his arm one more supportive squeeze. Peter watched her go through his bleary vision as she disappeared into the cabin most of the people seemed to crowd to. As soon as she ducked around the front door, Peter was gone.

He wandered. This was his first time ever on Tony’s new property and it seemed… wrong. The fact that Mr. Stark himself wasn’t there beside Peter, showing him around, pointing out each new area with an enthusiasm only he could muster, threw him off kilter.

It was small, he noticed. Not just the cabin, but the surrounding area as well. There was a short dock, and what seemed to be a tent set up closer to the back side of the house, but other than that it was nothing more than trees.

It was strange. Peter always knew Tony to be extravagant and unapologetically over-the-top. Seeing the small cabin laid out in the middle of nowhere was a shock to his system, learning this was where he’d been living for the past couple years.

Peter wondered just how little he knew about Tony now.

He ended up at the lakeside. Ducked beneath a canopy of branches and bathed in sunlight, he could still see the bouquet in the far horizon, bobbing distantly. Peter stared hard.

He dunked his shoe into the ripples of the lake. Swirling his foot around, he allowed himself to become mesmerized with the movement.

“Peter.”

He froze.

The toe of his shoe was still dipped beneath the lake’s surface, the sweeping movements ceasing. Peter slowly turned.

Pepper was staring at him with an indiscernible expression. Mouth pulled down into a frown and eyebrows bowed, she didn’t look nearly as angry as Peter would’ve thought her to be, if anything she looked more… concerned.

“Miss Potts- uh,” Peter stuttered, nearly tripping over himself to turn around. His hands wrung nervously in the fraying sleeves of his suit jacket. “H-Hi.”

She gave him a smile that was nothing but kind. “You had your aunt worried there for a minute, she lead me outside and noticed you were gone. Figured I’d find you somewhere out here.” She gestured widely out towards the sprawling lake behind Peter.

Traitor, Peter thought, of course she was grabbing Pepper. He couldn’t make himself look up at the woman in front of him, keeping his eyes trained on the dirt below his dress shoes. From his peripheral, Pepper’s heels took a step forward.

“You doing okay?” Pepper asked, voice saccharine in a way Peter didn’t deserve. None of this he deserved- the constant question of how he felt, the sentiment and worry that seemed to cloud May’s and Pepper’s voice every time he spoke with them. The tenderness and care and uttermost warmth that they treated him with that he just can’t allow himself to have.

“I-” Peter went to speak, but froze. To his horror, he found himself choking up, fine one moment, and on the verge of tears the next. “I’m fine.”

Pepper shook her head. “Peter,” she said, voice carrying a warning.

“Okay.” He gave a watery huff. “I g-guess I’ve been better.”

“There we go.” Pepper gave him a sad smile, all too reminiscent of the one he’d received from May that morning, and a sudden surge of terror welled in him at the prospect that he was finally speaking with the one person he’d been avoiding all this time. “C’mon kid, talk to me.”

“I-I don’t-” Peter stammered. Pepper looked at him sadly, her gaze focusing in on his face.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” It wasn’t a question. Peter looked away in shame. “You know you can talk to me, right? I’m here for you, we all are.”

“That’s the thing-” Peter began, but cut himself off. But he’d caught Pepper’s attention, because now she was staring at him with her eyebrows raised. She motioned for him to continue. Peter swallowed hard, and pushed down his pride.

“I don’t-” Peter fumbled helplessly, hands wringing together in front of him nervously. Pepper’s eyes bore into him, patient. Waiting. “I don’t belong here.”

His throat constricted; Pepper took another step forward, and he fought the primal instinct to back away. Instead, Peter stood grounded to the spot, suddenly terrified as she frowned down at him.

“What do you mean, Peter?” She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You belong, you deserve to be here-”

He shook his head wildly. And then it was here, the tsunami, it was crashing down. Because in the end the walls don’t stop it- that never ending surge of hurt and pain and constant stream of TonyTonyTony running through his mind nonstop the past week- but just let it build up and up and up until it all comes crashing down around him and destroying everything in the process.

Because the walls don’t do anything but delay the inevitable. Of all people, Peter should know this, because of course. He went through it with his own two parents and his Uncle Ben and finally Mr. Stark, and the process never got any better. Never once was it any easier than the last, and never once had Peter gotten away unscathed.

And for the first time since his heart-to-heart with Aunt May, and his moment alone right before the funeral, Peter’s eyes welled.

“You don’t get it, Ms. Potts,” Peter croaked. Pepper gripped his other arm, giving it a tight squeeze. “I-I shouldn’t be here, me and Mr. Stark- we weren’t-”

Peter couldn’t even bring himself to finish that sentence. His eyes stung with ferocity as he fought to keep tears at bay, accompanying the feeling of his burning throat and trembling hands. Pepper fixed him a sad look.

He gasped in a deep breath. “Five years, Ms. Potts. It’s been five years. That’s-” Peter huffed out a weak laugh. “That’s a long time to be gone from somebody’s life.”

“I know, hun.”

“People move on.” Peter’s hand shook with a newfound strength. “Tony moved on. I come back after five years and he’s married and has a kid and I wasn’t there.” Something tickled against his cheek, and when Peter went to wipe it away he was surprised his hand came back wet. “Five years, and I didn’t even know it.”

Pepper’s hands were removed from his shoulders, only to immediately clasp his hands. “Peter, breathe for me, honey,” she said, voice quiet but unwavering. Peter hadn’t even been aware his chest was quivering in time with his hands, barely able to draw in uneven breaths.

Peter gasped, trying to hold back, but it was too late- to tsunami had already torn through the walls. There was nothing to hold back the aftermath.

“Peter.” He snapped his eyes shut, willing the tears away, trying to breath through his hiccuping breaths to no avail. “Peter, look at me.”

A hand rested gently across his cheek, a thumb brushing away a fat tear as though his skin were delicate porcelain. Peter allowed his eyes to flutter open.

Pepper held her own tears in her eyes, glistening bright from the slowly descending sun beyond the lake. “Peter, listen to me. Tony, he-” she shook her head, expression baffled, “-he never moved on. Nobody has.”

“He has-”

“Stop.” She gripped the hand still holding Peter’s own tighter. “After the snap, he was ruined. Nothing was the same. He healed, physically, but nothing was the same. One night he told me it was the worst thing he’s ever watched; the man’s been through wars and seen death more times than any sane person could stand, and he still says watching what happened on Titan was the worst thing he’s had to live through.”

“He wanted to forget. He wanted to forget so bad. So we went through with the wedding, we had a kid, and he swore up and down he was happy, but I knew better. Because like I said, nothing was the same.”

Peter couldn’t hold back the strangled sound that forced its way out of his throat. His shoulders were trembling, his entire frame was trembling, he was shaking apart. There had been a reason Peter has been avoiding talking to anyone since the incident, and standing here, crying and shuddering pathetically beneath Pepper’s firm gaze, he was painfully reminded that this was it.

“You don’t get it,” he repeated, voice breaking. “I’ve missed out on-on everyone’s lives for five years, I’ve been reminded about it every single day, Ms. Potts. God, Aunt May had moved, half of my school is in college; things aren’t the same anymore. And everyone who was left behind… They’re closer, because of it. And Tony,” Peter paused, taking in a shuddering, hitched breath, “has his own family. You and Morgan, Rhodey and Happy, May talks about it all the time. You’re all family, and I’m not a part of that.”

And to Peter’s absolute horror, Pepper’s eyes began to shine.

No, he thought, frantic, I did not just make her cry. I did not just make Pepper Potts cry.

“No,” she said, and he watched with a horrid fascination as her eyes welled more and more until tears began to fall. “No, please don’t think that. You-you are a part of this. I promise you, you are always a part of this. You never weren’t.”

Pepper pulled Peter into her arms, and he does not try to duck away like he’d envisioned. He melts into the embrace, and decides, that just for the moment, that it was okay to let it go. He sobs. He’s vaguely aware of her running her hands up and down his arms soothingly.

Burrowed beneath Pepper’s arms, he shook.

“How do you not hate me?” he murmured, voice barely audible to his own ears.

Pepper froze, her hands pausing just along the crook of his elbow. Much to Peter’s chagrin, she pulled back, giving him a deep frown. “Don’t say that,” she said, voice strained. “God, please don’t say that.”

“No.” He writhed out of her grasp, eyes wide. “No, I could’ve- I could’ve done something, the gauntlet- I had it-”

Pepper fixed him a glare, but the effect was lost with the fact her eyes shone with unshed tears and her lip quivered. “Don’t you dare blame yourself that. There was nothing more we could do, Stephen said-”

“I know what he said.” Peter really did, of course he did. He’d heard it from the man too many times to count, from the time of his little meltdown moments after battle, to when he had returned mere days later to properly grieve with Peter. “But fourteen million-” Peter gave a watery scoff, shaking his head- “something could’ve been done.”

Despite the entire situation, Pepper seemed far more put together than Peter in every way. He felt selfish- no, he was selfish. She’d lost her husband, the second parent to her own child, her work partner for more years than he’s been alive for. And yet here Peter was, breaking down by the lake during the funeral Pepper had managed to put together with seemingly no blip. God, how could he even stand himself?

With that thought came a whole new torrent of tears. Pepper cooed softly, but he ignored her.

“You should hate me,” he croaked. “I-I could’ve helped. And-and I’ve been ignoring you and Happy and-”

“I don’t,” Pepper said softly. “I don’t hate you. None of this is your fault. Tony knew what had to be done. He knew all along.”

“I could’ve helped.”

“Do you blame me for not helping?” Pepper asked suddenly, throwing Peter off so hard his hiccuping breaths stopped for a moment.

“N-no,” he answered, quick, “of course not, Ms. Potts.”

“Then stop blaming yourself as well.” Peter scowled. “I’m serious.”

“I’m serious! I’ve got these-these- enhancements-

“And I’ve got this suit, don’t I-?”

“Yeah, but you’re human-”

“And you are a child.”

Peter stopped. Pepper was giving him a look like a glare crossed between a pitiful stare.

“We did-” she took in a deep breath (Peter pretended not to notice how it shook), “-we did everything we could. And that was enough. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Tony was proud of you,” she said suddenly. “So proud. He dropped everything to get you back.”

Peter scoffed, shaking his head. Pepper continued, “no, really. I don’t think any of this would’ve been reversed if you weren’t gone.”

The idea of it sounded so fake, so unrealistic, but somehow Peter knew it was true.

“I miss him,” Peter croaked. His voice sounded wrecked, and his eyes felt heavy and bruised. Pepper stared at him fondly.

“I do too.”

“I’m sorry, for everything.” That sentence, for whatever reason, broke him again- whether it was the acceptance of the fact that Mr. Stark was gone for good, or the memory of each time Peter ignored each call, not considered just how worried he was making everyone, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he was crying again and was surging into Pepper’s arms as she held him.

She said nothing, just cocooned her arms around his back and hummed almost inaudibly. They swayed, and Peter listened to the waves lapping onto land behind him.

“We should head back,” Pepper murmured into his hair eventually. Peter nodded into her shoulder, but didn’t let go. She didn’t either.

They both sat in each other's embrace for another moment. The sound of cicadas buzzed around them, and the orange glow of the sunset made Pepper’s hair burn golden. Peter took in a deep breath, relishing the warm air, the feeling of lithe arms circled around his shoulders.

He was here. He was alive. He was standing beneath a canopy of branches on a Thursday evening on the Stark’s residence.

He opened his eyes and pulled back.

Pepper rested her hands on Peter’s upper arms, running her fingers over the smooth cotton.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For… this. I needed it.”

“I think we both needed it.”

Peter frowned, bringing his hand up to wipe away his drying tear-tracks. “And I’m sorry again,” he sniffled, “for ignoring you. I panicked, it was just- after the battle-”

“Please don’t apologize.” Pepper gives him a look of such endearment his heart aches. “I get it. I really do.”

“Doesn’t mean you deserved it.”

“I was just worried. Your aunt kept in touch, though, so it was fine. Your reaction was natural, Peter, so please, for my sake, don’t apologize.”

Another apology was on the tip of his tongue, but he pushed it away painstakingly. He swallowed back the burn in his throat.

Pepper’s gaze trailed down to the thin watch on her wrist and blinked. “We’ve been out here for a while.” She straightened, smoothing her hands over her dress. “We don’t need anyone getting worried.”

“Yeah.” As Pepper turned and began to head back in the direction of the cabin, Peter went to follow, but found himself hesitating again.

Pepper only got so far before she too turned around, head cocking. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just- I guess I’m a little worried about seeing everyone again.”

Pepper’s face relaxed. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She retraced her steps back to Peter. “If it makes you feel any better though, they’re all excited to see you again. We’ve been worrying.”

A hand was placed on his forearm, and he looked up to see Pepper’s face smiling down at him. She led him forward, where they began walking back towards the lingering crowd.

“Besides-” Pepper was looking fondly over at a trio sitting on the porch, “- I’ve got someone you still need to meet.”

As they approached, he could make out May’s and Happy’s forms, between them a little girl (Morgan, he reminded himself, Morgan Stark, looking so much like her father from even a few dozen feet away.) All chuffed expressions and exuberant smiles, May turned around and the two lock eyes. Watching the way her posture relaxed when she saw Pepper and Peter standing together and catching the relieved grin on her face was one of the best things he’s seen in awhile, and Peter absolutely basks in it.

“You okay?” Pepper asks him as they begin getting close enough to where the indistinct conversations around them become more clear.

Peter looks around, and sees all the people gathered. All these people, all for Mr. Stark. He gets a look at the Guardians mulling around the front yard, quietly speaking with the blue lady he still wishes to meet who looks quite somber, catches a glance of Captain Rogers standing out on the very edge of the dock they’d release the bouquet on, two men he vaguely recognized on either side of him.

A kid looking to be about Peter’s age stands alone, distant, misty eyes trained somewhere across the water, beyond the horizon. Rhodey stands in the doorway of the cabin, staring inside, shoulders tense and set; he watches as the kind glowing lady cautiously steps up behind him, resting an easy hand on his shoulder. He watches them together, watches them just breathe.

The entire lot is full, all these people coming together. Half of them Peter’s never seen in his life- he will probably never even see again. The air is still tense with sorrow but there’s the occasional bubble of laughter and everyone is speaking and smiling and suddenly the bright afternoon sky doesn’t seem so out of place anymore.

It’s a dizzying thought, that amongst all these people, Mr. Stark isn’t one of them, will never be one of them. Isn’t that all he’s wanted though? For everyone to be together, to work for the same goal with grace and hospitality and anything but, no matter the sacrifice?

In the end, it’s what he got.

Good, Peter finds himself thinking, his eyes sweeping over the crowd, it’s what he deserves.

Slowly but surely, the tension melts away, and everything is so bizarrely easygoing and calm in the moment that everything seems okay. Just for a moment, the tsunami pushes towards the back of his mind, receding quietly.

“Yeah,” Peter nods, giving Pepper a reassuring smile. “I think I’m good.”

Somewhere, Peter knows Tony is there. That Mr. Stark is somehow looking down at everyone here and is finally able to rest in peace for good. That he sees Peter with Pepper and Morgan and that, he too, knows that somehow everything will turn out okay because they aren’t alone, he will never let them be alone.

Somewhere in the crowd, a group bursts into laughter, and the breeze warms Peter to his core.

The tsunami does not come to mind for the rest of the day.