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Chapter Text

Something that has never changed since Peter became Spider-Man, was the feeling that sat at the base of his neck. 

There was always a faint rumble, a shiver almost that settled itself right behind his neck. It was his sixth sense, that feeling. It would prickle when something was wrong. It didn’t matter what was wrong though. If there was some form of danger, a sharp pinch at the base of his neck would alert Peter. 

It was a constant, a reassurance. It was something Peter could trust. 

So the moment it spiked moments after watching Thanos move through a portal, Peter had no doubt something was happening. 

Something was very, very wrong. 

Still, he moved over to help Tony up, checking the wound in his side. Thankfully the sealant seemed to be working. “You okay?” he muttered. 

“Fine, kid. You?” Tony gruffed out. 

Peter nodded, turning to the others. Dr. Strange sat down, face weary and aged. What was the plan now? 

The air shifted before anyone could say anything. It was a forceful shift, crawling under Peter’s skin. His neck ached. 

“Something is wrong,” the bug lady said, black eyes wide and emotive. It was seconds later that her body began to crack, flake, and then turn to ash. 

Peter stared, terror and confusion coursing through his body. What was happening? 

“Quill?” the gray man gasped before turning to ash as well. 

Peter grip tightened on Tony’s arm. 

“Steady, Quill,” Tony said. Peter’s eyes snapped from the gray man’s ashes to the other Peter. 

The man looked as panicked as Peter felt. He sighed, appearing utterly defeated and only managed to mutter a, “Aw, man,” before disappearing. 

Peter’s eyes darted to Dr. Strange. The prick at his neck hadn’t gone yet; it wasn’t over. 

He seemed calm. Did he know this would happen? Had he seen this already? “Tony,” he said patiently, “there was no other way.” 

He turned to ash no sooner than the words left his mouth. 

Peter stood there, shaking. The prickling wasn’t gone. It wasn’t over. Peter felt like he was going to throw up. 

“Kid.” 

Peter froze. 

No. 

“Hey, kid, look at me real quick.” 

No no please no. 

Peter looked anyway. 

Tony was smiling. 

Peter was going to be sick. 

“Peter, it’s okay.” 

Tony’s legs gave out. Or rather, they disappeared. Peter caught him, lowered him to the ground. 

“No, no, no, please, Mr. Stark.” 

“It’s okay, Peter. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Tony was so calm and he was the one dying. 

Meanwhile, Peter was falling apart at the seams. 

“Please, Tony, I-I can’t--I don’t know, I’m sorry --” 

Tony’s hand moved to his chest. He grabbed Peter’s hand and pressed something into it. 

“You’re gonna be okay, Peter. You’re gonna be okay.” 

Peter’s hand suddenly was holding ash. 

Tony was gone. 

Peter’s hands shook. 

In his right hand, the one Tony had grabbed, was Tony’s retractable arc reactor. 

“He did it.” 

Peter barely had it in him to look up. 

The blue lady was still there. She hadn’t disappeared. 

Her black eyes were glassy. 

“He did it,” she repeated. 

The prickling at his neck was gone. 

It was over. 

Peter scrambled over to the side and threw up. 

“Boy.” 

Peter didn’t move from his crouched position. 

“Boy.” 

His fingers twitched, tightening on the arc reactor. 

It should’ve been me.

“We have to leave. Titan’s environment is uninhabitable at night.” 

Peter’s vision came back into focus. 

“We need to gather materials for our journey.” 

It should’ve been me. 

Peter’s eyes flickered up but never really left the pile of ash before him. 

It should’ve been--

“ Boy. ” 

Peter flinched and turned when a hand came in contact with his shoulder. 

The blue lady was standing there. Her face was tough, hardened like stone. “We have to leave,” she repeated firmly, hand leaving his shoulder. 

“But…” he started but stopped. But what? What was there to continue? 

There was nothing. No mission, no foe to take down, no prickle at the base of his neck. The blue lady said they couldn’t stay there. They had to leave. 

If Peter was looking for a mission, a next step, then getting up and gathering supplies would be it. 

Peter gripped the arc reactor. 

Peter stumbled to his feet. He stood there, staring at the ground, at the ashes. He had to move. They couldn’t stay there. 

“Who was he to you?” 

Peter forgot the lady was there. He looked away from the ashes and up at her. It was a good question. Who was Tony to him? 

“He was…” he paused when his voice came out raspy. “He was a lot of things. My mentor, mostly.” 

“He trained you?” the lady asked. It lacked a genuine tone, but Peter didn’t mind. The questions, the talking, it would keep him distracted. 

“In a sense, yeah,” he replied. His feet moved beneath him, moving him away from the ashes. He held the arc reactor close to his chest, cradling it like something sacred. “He helped me with pretty much everything.” 

“Like what?” They moved farther away, farther towards the battlegrounds to collect supplies. 

Peter thought about lab days and mission training. About lazy days at the Compound, watching Star Wars a million times over. About making homemade ice cream, about singing ABBA and AC/DC in the middle of the kitchen. About homework and equations, puns about both. About the teasing and the laughing, the almost hugs and hands on shoulders. 

“Work, training. Fun stuff too. We did a lot.” 

They were picking up scrap metals now. 

“Was he good?” 

Peter looked up from the ground to the lady and then to the orange world around them. 

“At what?”

“Any of it.” 

Peter rubbed his thumb over the surface of the arc reactor.

“The best.” 

They boarded the ship with their supplies. Peter webbed it all up to create makeshift bags. 

They work to repair it best they can. Peter does his best, remembering what he can from lessons with Tony. 

They manage to get it up in the air but they’re both acutely aware that it won’t be enough. Neither of them saying anything, a mutual silence in the face of the inevitable. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said during the initial repairs, “but I don’t know your name.” 

The lady looked up from her work. Peter saw a flicker of surprise cross her face before it disappeared. “Nebula,” she told him. 

He nodded, repeating, “Nebula. Cool name. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Peter.” 

She nodded back and they went back to work. 

Nebula helped patch up his wounds. There weren’t many major ones, thankfully. None of them were fatal. They still needed to be cleansed and wrapped up. Peter had taken to wearing just the nano suit over his regular clothes. It made it easier to get to wounds than going through the nanotech, the old suit, plus his clothing. 

“You are very small,” she told him while sewing up a gash on his shoulder. 

He snorted. “Thanks,” he said sarcastically. 

“How old are you?” 

“Sixteen.” 

Peter felt her pause. 

“Did you choose this path?” 

Peter’s eyebrows raised in surprise. It was a heavy question. 

“Yes,” he told her honestly. “I had the power to help people and so I did. I don’t regret it.” 

Nebula took a second longer before continuing her work. 

“Then you are better than most, Peter.” 

Peter used to sing his enhanced metabolism’s praise but now? Now he saw it as more of a curse. 

His wounds were healing over but slowly. Very slowly. His metabolism was eating away at him. He needed to eat much more than they could afford to spare. 

“What are you?” Nebula asked when she noticed his weakened state and the reason why. It wasn’t rude or harsh, but a genuine question. 

“Uh,” he began awkwardly. Explaining how he got his powers was always a little weird. “I was bitten by a radioactive spider. It, uh, transferred the radioactivity to me and… ta-da.” 

“Interesting,” Nebula noted. She seemed to mean it. 

“That’s one word for it,” Peter said, chuckling dryly. 

It was day eleven when Peter activated the arc reactor. 

He had been using the repairs and works to distract himself. He couldn’t focus on the grief, on the nightmares (when on the off chance he did sleep), the hunger, the anger. He couldn’t waste his energy on it. He needed to work and get them home and then go from there.

But he’d woken up one night. Sweating, panting, crying, shaking. Nebula was asleep too. 

He sat up, grabbed the reactor, stood, steadied himself and then walked over to the windows. 

He’d always loved space. Being a Star Wars lover made sure of that. But then he would go out on the fire escape and stare up at the sky in the dead of night. Ben would buy him books upon books on space and the stars and planets. Tony, when things were still tentative between them, took him out to the middle of nowhere, where there was no light pollution and showed him the stars. The deep purples and bright pinks and blues of the world around them. He’d never forget it. 

But looking at the stars now, Peter knew he’d never be able to stomach a sight like this again. 

So he soaked it up now. He took in the stars, the midnight blues, the tinges of green, the soft purples. He studied the view before him and tried not to cry. 

He tore his gaze away from the sky and to the reactor. 

It should’ve been me. 

He knew that he should’ve used it before. The nanotech might’ve been damaged but it would help them make repairs. It could potentially help power the engines if Peter put some thought into it. 

Peter was too scared to activate it. It would reopen the wound. Not that it had healed over, not by any means, but it would deepen it. It would be bigger and it would hurt and impossible to ignore. 

But supplies were running low and the repairs weren’t made to last them long. So Peter stood up and placed the arc reactor onto his chest. A lump began to form in his throat. 

His hand hovered over it. He didn’t feel worthy, wearing the reactor. This wasn’t his power to use. Tony may have given it to him but he couldn’t even bear to say Tony’s name aloud. Was he worthy of this? Was this for him to use? 

It should’ve been me. 

Peter bit his lip. It didn’t matter if he was worthy or not. He had a mission to complete, a next step to get to. If this helped them get to it quicker, then so be it. 

Peter tapped the reactor twice and watched, felt, as the nanotech spread over his body. It mixed with his own suit, using it to fill out some of the broken pieces and missing tech. 

The faceplate formed and glowed, brightening to life. Blue tones filled Peter’s vision. Information appeared on the screen, vitals, and recommendations for new plans. 

Peter breathed in and choked back a sob. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions take hold. Hell, he couldn’t even afford to cry. They didn’t exactly have an endless supply of water. 

He breathed out, in, out, in, out. 

Tony had given him his arc reactor. He had given him this to use, to help himself and whoever ended still there. Peter had to do this. 

He had work to do. 

With the help of the suit, the repairs lasted longer. They had more fuel to use. 

It didn’t fix their food or water problem. 

There was still a mutual silence between them. In fact, instead of talking about the inevitable, they spent their spare time playing paper football. 

Peter took off the helmet of the suit. 

He had been working to try and find a connection. Anything, anywhere, just somewhere he could broadcast a message to someone who could help. But at this point, he just wanted to make sure there was something for people to find. If anyone found them, that is. 

He placed the helmet on the ground before sitting before it. 

He fiddled with the tech until a blue beam appeared. It scanned over his body, copying his frame and expressions as a recording. 

“Hope this is working,” he said dully. He knew it was, he just didn’t know how to start. “Well, if it is, hey. It’s day… Twenty-one--No! Twenty-two. Somewhere in the twenties. The repairs are holding strong, thanks to this--” He raised the reactor in the air, “--but… the repairs are fine but food and water, it’s running low. So is oxygen. Y’know, it was bound to happen. Nebs and I knew it.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “Tony wasn’t kidding when he said this was a way one trip. I just… I don’t know, I hoped that we would make it. At least long enough to go home. Just to see who’s left. To get whatever message Tony left for Pepper to her. I haven’t looked to see if he left a message, I know he has. He was always thinking about the next step, the next mission. Of course, he’d leave a message, just in case. I guess that’s what I’m doing even though there isn’t really a next step, a next mission. 

“Say this does get back to Earth. Say this gets to the Avengers or whoever. Know this: Tony fought. He did everything he could. He gave us the best chance we had. If there is a next step, if there is something we can do to change this… don’t let him down. 

“If… May, if you’re still there, know that… God, I can’t even say that I’m okay.” He gestured vaguely to himself, to his thin body and gaunt face. “I’m pretty sure anyone can tell that I’m not. But how about this? May, I love you. Thank you for taking me in. You didn’t have to do. I was Ben’s nephew, not yours, not by blood. But you took me in and you raised me and I will forever be grateful to you. I love you so much. I’ll be okay.”

Peter sighed, leaning back against the cold machinery. “There’s not much else to say,” he continued. “If we can pull off one more stunt, then we’ll see you, whoever this gets to, on the other side. We’ll see what that ‘other side’ is. If we can’t pull something off… then we’ll go out with a bang. Let’s go.” 

Peter tapped the helmet. The blue scan dissolved away. The video log appeared underneath Tony’s message for Pepper. Peter hadn’t touched it; it wasn’t his to watch or listen to.  

Peter looked to his left when he heard footsteps. Nebula came into view, quiet. All it took was a look between the two for Peter to understand. 

“Looks like we’re going out with a bang,” he mused, staring at the ground. “Or at least a whisper.” 

Nebula came to sit beside him. Touch was still something Nebula avoided but Peter made sure she knew it was okay to reach out. Even in small ways like this. And he didn’t blame her for reaching out now. He would’ve come to her too. 

They were going to die. Huh. It was a confusing thing to come to terms with. Peter didn’t want to die. He really didn’t. But this wasn’t a situation he could fight. He didn’t have a say in it. That almost made it easier. To put his fate into the universe’s hands. If he was to die, at least he would go in his sleep. 

“It’s been an honor working with you, Nebula,” he told her. He meant it. 

“As has been working with you, Peter,” she said then stood up. “Sleep for now. I’ll wake you in an hour.” 

Will you? Peter thought but said nothing. He just closed his eyes, listening until the world fell away. 

Later, although he wouldn’t remember it, a bright light would fill the ship. It would beam through from the outside. A woman would appear in the light and she would take them home. The light would be warm and it would brush Peter’s cheek and he would feel like he was floating. 

Later, although he wouldn’t remember it, he would wonder if that was what dying was like.

Peter woke up to white walls. 

Four white walls and white covers and a white pillow and a white ceiling. 

Is this heaven? He thought blearily, looking around the room. 

It was just white on white on white on--

There was orange. 

Or rather, it was a strawberry blonde more than anything. His eyes had been sensitive to certain colors since the spider bite. 

The strawberry blonde was hair, Peter realized as he came to his senses. There was a woman sitting in the chair, filling out some papers. Peter couldn’t see her very well but she looked tired. 

The feeling was mutual. 

But Peter knew who she was. They weren’t as close as he and Tony but Peter respected her just as much as he did May. Peter opened his mouth and managed to croak out, “Ms. Potts?” before he began coughing. 

Pepper looked up from her papers, startled. “Peter?” she said, putting the paper aside. She stood up. “You’re awake, thank God. I’ll go grab the doctor.” She began to move away. 

“W-Wait!” he called, struggling as he sat up. His body was achy from injuries and malnourishment. 

Pepper stopped, looking back. There was a certain frantic air about her. He didn’t blame her. His mind was reeling as well, catching up to the last month. 

Peter blinked, realized that Pepper was waiting for him to say something. What was there to say? The world, the universe was shattered. Tony was gone. There was no next step. 

“Wh-who's left?” he asked. He could go from there.  

Pepper paused. She looked at him, eyes trailing over his face. “The Avengers, Rhodey, Happy, Rocket,” she listed off. “We’re still getting information on who’s… gone around the world.” 

“Is Nebula okay?” he asked. If he kept going, maybe he could avoid the emotions following him, threatening to swallow him whole. If he kept focused, maybe he could go on. 

“Yes, she’s with Rocket,” Pepper answered. 

“Who’s Rocket?” 

“A member of Nebula’s team. Or her sister’s team.” 

Nebula hadn’t opened up much during their time together but it was unavoidable, talking about Gamora. Peter knew she missed her sister desperately. 

(“If there is no way to reverse this,” she said during a repair, “if there is no redemption, no fix, then, at the very least, I hope I get the chance to cut my… that bastard’s head off.” 

“Make for nice decoration,” he said sardonically.)

Peter nodded. The next question burned his tongue as he spoke. 

“What about May?” 

Pepper didn’t respond immediately. That was all Peter needed. 

He closed his eyes but did not cry. Maybe there was just too much grief in his body, too much to process, too much to let out. It’d soak into his bones, into his blood and veins. Who knows what would happen to it? But it surely wasn’t leaving through his eyes. 

She was gone. May was gone. He had no one left. No mother or father, no Ben, no Tony, and now, no May. 

He was alone. 

It should’ve been me. 

He opened his eyes and looked at Pepper. She looked so strong but Peter could see all the underlying weight, all the grief and sorrow, the pain and distress. 

He opened his mouth and said the only thing he thought would bring her comfort. 

“Did you watch his message?” 

She jolted, as though startled by his words. “What message?” she asked, voice faint and distant like she was unaware she was speaking. 

“He left a message for you, in his suit,” he explained. “Get the arc reactor. It’s there.” 

Pepper didn’t move. And then, very slowly, she began to cry. 

It was silent. She barely made a sound. She pressed her lips together, face screwing up with pain. 

Peter looked down, trying to present a form of privacy that didn’t exist. 

It should’ve been me.

Pepper let out a sound that wasn’t a sob and wasn’t a laugh. A choke more than anything. “Of course he did,” she muttered, voice breaking. 

“I didn’t watch it,” he said because he needed her to know it, that he hadn’t crossed that line. He didn’t know why it was so important to him. 

Pepper took in a deep breath and said, “Thank you.” 

Peter doesn’t know what she was thanking him for. Probably for not watching the message. Whatever the thank you was for, Peter felt wholly unworthy of it. 

There was silence between them. Peter did not look up. “Now what?” he whispered. 

Pepper breathed in. 

“I don’t know.” 

Peter went to live with Pepper after he was healed. They were packaging everything up from the apartment to move out. 

(Pepper was the one to take down all the photos and everything from May’s room.) 

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, even though protesting made no sense, even though he knew that he couldn’t live on his own, even though he didn’t want to be alone. “I-I mean, I appreciate it! I really do! But I don’t want to burden you with anything.” 

“Peter,” Pepper said patiently, “I don’t mind watching after you. I have custody of you until… well, we can talk about that later. Besides, I… I think it will be good for us both--to have some company.”

“Are we going to the Compound?” he asked because that was easier than continuing that conversation. 

Pepper went with it. “No,” she replied before pausing. She sighed and said, “Tony and I had our eyes on a cabin. We’ll stay there until schools begin running again. And then…” 

Pepper trailed off, frozen as she held a set of books in her hands. 

It should’ve been me. 

Pitying himself though, wouldn’t get them anywhere. So instead, Peter shifted and continued packaging.

“And then we’ll go from there,” Peter finished. Pepper looked up. “One step at a time. I don’t think we can do anything else.” 

Pepper watched him, eyes flitting across his face. Finally, though, she nodded. 

“One step at a time.” 

Two months. Two months had gone by since everything changed. 

Nightmares were regular. Training was constant. Eating was sporadic. 

Peter didn’t know where he was going. Talking with Nebula helped, even when she was off-planet. Rhodey and Happy were awkward but well-meaning. But it was mostly Pepper and training that kept him floating. Pepper kept his mind busy, while training kept his body busy. 

(No matter how much he trained, he couldn’t bring himself to even look at his suit. No matter how much Pepper told it was okay, he couldn’t bring himself to go into Tony’s labs.) 

Pepper was working her ass off. The world was still in shambles. People needed someone to look to. The Avengers, those who were left, largely became that beacon of knowledge. Pepper worked in the background. 

Peter worked around the house. Anything he could do to relieve her of some stress, he’d do it. He owed her that much and more. 

Two months. Two months had gone by and something changed again. 

Peter was awoken by the sound of Pepper rushing down the hall. 

He sat up quickly, senses ringing. There was a prick at the base of his neck. 

He moved out of his bed and room, rushing into the hall, web-shooters on. He never took them off now. “Pepper?” he called. “What’s wrong?” 

He followed the sound of Pepper’s heartbeat to the bathroom. She was hunched over the toilet. “Shit,” he muttered before crouching next to her. “Do need anything?” 

Pepper coughed, gripping the rim of the seat tightly. “Jus-Just stay here,” she managed to croak out. 

Peter blinked and then nodded. He placed a gentle, light hand on her shoulder. When Pepper’s nausea seemed to pass, he tapped her shoulder twice and said quietly, “Think you can handle some water?” 

“Probably,” she groaned. 

“Then I’ll be right back.” 

Peter stood and walked to the kitchen. He returned shortly after with a glass of water. He handed it to Pepper, who was leaning against the wall now. She took a small sip before placing it on the ground.

“Are you sick?” he asked. “Just nauseous?” 

“I--” Pepper stopped herself, pressing a hand to her mouth. Tears rapidly began to gather in her eyes. 

“Pepper, what’s wrong?” Peter didn’t know what was happening. Desperation, panic, it lived in his veins, flaring when he got no response. 

Pepper’s whole body moved with her sobs. Peter crouched down, placing his hand on her knee. “Just breathe, okay? Just focus on that,” he instructed. Panic attacks, anxiety attacks, general crying sessions, they had both gotten used to them all. They knew how to help each other. The cues, the triggers, the calming, the aftermath. It was still a work in progress but it worked for now. 

(He would never forget the first panic attack she helped him with. He would never forget how after he came back to himself, she held his face in her hands, looked him dead in the eyes, and said, “None of this is your fault, Peter Parker. If you want to blame someone, blame the fucker that killed my husband and half of everyone else.”) 

They sat there until Pepper could breathe properly. Peter had come to sit beside her, hand still on her knee. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, voice small and tired. 

“No problem,” he said and meant it. “You wanna talk about it?” 

Maybe it had been a nightmare. Lord knows it wouldn’t have been the first time either of them had awoken from one, panicked and nauseous. 

Pepper took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I…” she stopped, pondered, then reached out and grabbed his hand. She squeezed it tight and Peter briefly wondered if she was the one with super strength. “Peter.” 

Her tone was serious, firm. It was the voice she used during meetings, when she needed people to shut up and listen and take in every word she said. She didn’t use it often with him. Peter straightened and tapped her hand with his index finger, signaling to her to continue. 

“Peter. I think I’m pregnant.” 

Peter stopped breathing. The air froze. Time stopped. The world stilled. 

Very, very slowly, Peter turned to look at Pepper. Stared at her. His body felt like static. 

“I,” she continued, “I didn’t think much of the nausea. With… everything that’s been going on, I just assumed it was from being overwhelmed. And then I gained a little weight and I still didn’t think much of it. I--my cycle was off and I still didn’t think! I was--I don’t know, I just. It’d make sense.” 

Peter found his voice. “Ha-Have you taken a test?” he asked because, logically, that was the first step. 

Pepper shook her head. “Too scared to, I guess,” she confessed. “But I should. Take one, I mean. Just to check all our surfaces. It could be something else, who knows? I--” 

Pepper continued to ramble. Peter blinked and realized that a test wasn’t necessary. 

Peter focused on Pepper’s heartbeat. And then went further. Checking, searching, hoping (for what, he didn’t know), just making sure--

There it was. 

A soft pitter-patter of a heartbeat. Young and slow, it was weaker than Pepper’s. Or perhaps just quieter. 

“You are,” he blurted out. 

Pepper turned to look at him. Their eyes met. “You are,” he repeated, squeezing her knee. “I can hear its heartbeat.”  

Pepper stared at him. Somehow her grip on his hand tightened. “Oh God,” she whispered. 

Next step, Peter thought, what is it? Where do we go from this? 

“Let’s set up a doctor’s appointment,” he said, “just… just to see, to make sure. We can go from there.” 

Pepper didn’t respond, just closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. Peter didn’t offer any words of comfort. He was just about as lost as she was. 

“He had a dream about this.” 

Peter looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t have to ask who “he” was. 

“We were out for a run,” she continued softly, eyes still closed. “When we stopped, he told me that he had a dream. That we had a kid named Morgan, after my uncle. ‘It was so real,’ he said.” Pepper’s voice cracked. “He wanted it. To have a kid, I mean. He was so excited about it; he said please. ” She gave a breathless chuckle. “He wanted to have a kid and I… I couldn’t. I didn’t know if I wanted kids but… with the life he led, the problems he had… I don’t think either of us was truly ready. I know I wasn’t. Not yet.” 

Pepper opened her eyes and looked down, head lowering. She placed her free hand on her stomach. “But now,” she whispered. “If this had happened when he was still here--” her breath hitched, “--I would be ready. If we did it together, I’d be ready. No matter what we faced, we could do it together. I don’t know now. I don’t know.” 

Peter didn’t know either. 

Instead of offering her a maybe or a perhaps or anything that couldn’t stand on its own, he said, “Tomorrow, we’ll go to the doctor. We’ll figure out the medical stuff there, and then we’ll go from there.” 

Pepper chuckled humorlessly. “You’re so calm,” she told him, “I’m jealous.” 

“I just want to help,” he explained, “I won’t be any help to anyone if I’m panicking.” 

“True,” she admitted. She looked around the bathroom, eyes flitting about. “I should probably schedule the appointment. And I’ll have to cancel that meeting with Okoye. Also the ones with everyone at SI. And--” 

“I can do it,” Peter interrupted. “Anything you need to do, I got it.” 

Pepper blanched, watching him with her head tilted ever so slightly. “Peter,” she started, “I can’t ask you to do that--” 

“You’re not asking me, I’m offering,” he insisted. “Tell me what to do; teach me. I’m a quick learner.” 

“Peter, you don’t need to do this; you’re a kid!” Pepper said firmly. 

“And you’re pregnant!” he countered. “I have nothing better to do. I’ll be fine. I can handle talking to some people.” 

“It isn’t just some people, Peter,” she sighed, “these are officials, members of high class. There’s a certain pressure that is applied to you that you shouldn’t have to struggle under.” 

“Then I’ll learn to carry it.” Peter had to help. He didn’t know how to do anything else. “Pepper, please. You need to rest. Regardless of where we go from here, you’ve been working your ass off--” 

“Language.”

“Still. You’ve been going, going, going since all of this. You’re more than capable but you deserve to rest, regardless of what happens next.” 

Pepper stayed silent. Peter waited. 

“Today,” she started slowly, “I will call the doctors. Tomorrow, we’ll go to the doctors. And while we wait for the doctor… you can read some of the books I did when I was studying for business.” 

Peter deflated, relief running through his body. He could help take care of Pepper and what she needed to get done. 

“Tomorrow,” he agreed.

The doctor’s confirmed it. Pepper was pregnant. 

When they got back to the cabin, they both cried and pretended they weren’t. 

“I want to keep it,” Pepper whispered into the room. “I want to.” 

“Okay,” Peter said because he wasn’t about to tell her anything about what to do with her body. “I’m here, for everything.” 

Peter meant it. She needed someone and if he could be that someone, he'd be it fully. And maybe he needed someone too. 

She reached over from her position on the couch and gripped his hand. “Thank you.” 

Within the next month, Peter was standing in front of a board of officials, Natasha Romanoff, Okoye of the Dora Milaje, and Carol Danvers, heart buzzing. It was odd, being in charge and leading meetings at sixteen. But Peter took to it easily. It was a distraction. He was learning and helping. 

This was the next step. He could work with that. 

Peter’s birthday rolled around. He didn’t want to celebrate it. Why should he rejoice for his life when the people who mattered most aren’t there to celebrate it with him?

“They wouldn’t want you to stop living, Peter,” Pepper told him from outside his door. Peter leaned back against it, sliding down it. “They would want you to go on. They’d want you to celebrate and be happy and live, Peter. Are you going to sit there and wait until the day is done? Or are you going to do what they would want you to do?” 

Peter stared at the ground. Pepper waited. 

Peter closed his eyes and sighed. He felt heavy, like there was weight in his chest that did nothing but pull and pull and pull him into the ground. 

But there was the next step. If he could hold onto it tight enough, he could fight the weight. 

The next step was to stand up and open the door, to go with Pepper and celebrate his life even if he didn’t want to, to breathe. 

Peter stood up and opened the door. Pepper straightened. 

Peter breathed in and out, in and out before looking up at Pepper. “Now what?” he asked. 

“Now,” Pepper said calmly, placing her hands on his shoulders, “we go and celebrate. You deserve to celebrate.” 

Peter met her eyes. In all the time that Peter had known Pepper, she hadn’t offered him anything she didn’t believe in. She didn’t bullshit him or offer sugar-coated words in an attempt to comfort him. In turn, he had done the same. They both knew it was unnecessary, a precaution that would do no good. And so Peter didn’t doubt her words. He just doubted himself. 

Still, he nodded and they walked to the kitchen for breakfast. 

They ate and then began making a cake. If Peter closed his eyes, listened to the quiet music coming from the speaker on the counter, breathed in the scent of flour and sugar, felt the wooden spoon in his hand, he could almost imagine he was home with May, baking something that would turn out horrible but they would eat it anyway. 

But Peter didn’t close his eyes because he loved May, loved her so much it hurt, but he loved Pepper too. And they weren’t the same, they would never be the same, but they didn’t have to be. He could be grateful for both, he could love both. 

On the night of his birthday, Rhodey, Happy, Nebula and Pepper all sat with him in the living room. 

It was quiet and somewhat somber but there was something else in there too. Something lighter. Peter dared to call it hope. 

They got him gifts, something he didn’t quite feel worthy of but said nothing other than thank you. Pepper told him that she’d give him her gift later after they ate. Rhodey gave him a bunch of books, the same ones he had been given by a friend for his college years. “It’s a tradition to pass ‘em down,” he explained with an easy grin. “I thought it was appropriate, seeing as you’ll be headed to college sooner than later.” 

Peter had smiled, genuinely touched. 

Happy gave him a “Driving for Dummies” book. He looked extremely pleased with himself. 

Nebula gave him a set of daggers. He had managed to cover his surprise and slight discomfort at the sight of them. They had black handles, both sides decorated with beautiful carvings that shined in the light. The blade themselves looked marbled and were iridescent but darkened immensely in the shadows. Peter let her talk for as long as she did about the daggers. She seemed almost excited to give them to him, to talk about them. He wasn’t about to stop that. 

(Later, next week, he would ask Nebula to show him how to use them. The corner of her lips would upturn for a second before falling back into her neutral expression. She would agree to train him and she would be so hesitant. She would tell him quietly while they both sat on the red mats of the Compound gym, that Thanos trained her to fight for her life, to sacrifice anything and everything to get out a battle on top. She would tell him that if she didn’t, if she failed, he would carve out a piece of her. She would tell him that the daggers had been given to her as a testament to her strength. She would tell him that she gave them to him because it was a testament to his strength. She would tell him that she would train him, show him how to fight, as a spit to Thanos’ face. 

Peter would look to her and smile and tell her that she was amazing. He would stand up and offer her a hand. She would stare it before accepting it and then they would train. 

Peter would make a mental reminder to himself to figure out when her birthday was and what to get her. He would decide that even if he couldn’t figure out when her birthday was, he’d pick a day with her to celebrate her because maybe Pepper was right, maybe they did deserve to celebrate their lives.) 

They ate and then brought out the cake. Peter blew out his candles and wished for May and Tony and Ned and MJ and only smiled when Pepper squeezed his shoulder.  

They ate the cake and talked and laughed and told stories and breathed. 

Peter looked around at the people at the table. It hurt to imagine who else should’ve been there. But that thing he dared to call hope was still there and so Peter breathed. That was the next step. 

It was nearly midnight when Pepper gave Peter his gift. 

In the living room, Peter was beginning one of the books Rhodey gave him when Pepper came up next to the couch, putting her coat on.

“Peter,” she said to gain his attention. 

He looked up in response. “Let’s go for a little drive, yeah?” she asked him. 

Peter didn’t have to think about before bookmarking his place and moving off the couch. 

They walked outside and get in the car. Peter pulled out of the driveway and asked where Pepper wanted to go. 

“Go to the Compound.” 

Peter paused, blinked, then began the drive to the Compound. 

When they arrived, Pepper told him, “Go in, I’ll be right behind you.” 

Five minutes later, they stood outside of Tony’s lab. Peter’s hand shook. 

“I know,” Pepper began softly, grasping his hand, “you’ve avoided this. I don’t blame you. I did too. But… there’s something you need to see, Peter.” 

Peter didn’t know what to do. Pepper wouldn’t have brought him here if she hadn’t thought it was important. She wouldn’t have brought him here if she hadn’t thought the pain would be worth it. 

Peter took in a deep breath, clenching his fist when it shook and pushed open the door to the labs. 

The lights came on automatically. It looked exactly the same as he had last seen it. Not a thing had been moved or touch. 

Peter’s chest ached. 

To his left were DUM-E and U. Both were just sitting there, deactivated and still. 

Peter walked over to them, placing a hand on each to wake them up. 

(“God, what kind of power am I giving you?” Tony grumbled. “This isn’t going to end well, is it?” 

“It was your idea to do this!” Peter reminded him gleefully, watching as Tony uploads the code to DUM-E and U. 

The second the code was set, Peter rushed over to DUM-E and U, slowing before them. He gently placed a hand on DUM-E first. The bot chirped and woke up. Peter couldn’t suppress his smile. 

He copied his actions with U. The bot reacted similarly, beeping before straightening. 

Peter giggled, utterly delighted. He turned to Tony and laughed harder at the pained expression on the man’s face. 

“You three are going to ruin my life, aren’t you?” he groaned. Peter continued to laugh. “Look, children, heads up. This code is just so that you--” he pointed at Peter, “can use them--” he pointed at DUM-E and U, “without having to come whining to me. They are not playthings, so no mischief or pranks or shenanigans.”

“Shenanigans?” Peter repeated, smirking. 

“Yes, Parker. No goofs o-or gafs, no devilments or waggish natures or--Stop laughing!”)  

DUM-E chirped to life. U woke up a second later. “Hey guys,” he murmured, voice raspy and quiet. “Been alright here? Pretty dark, cold too. Hope you guys were alright.” 

Peter tossed a glance over his shoulder, back towards Pepper. “We should bring them back,” he said, “so they aren’t alone. O-Or we’ll just have to visit more. I don’t want them to be alone.” 

“Sounds like a good idea,” Pepper said, nodding. “Come here.” 

Peter walked back over to her, bots following closely behind. They sat down at the table, hands in their laps, too afraid to touch anything and disturb the preserved environment. 

“I told you that I’d give you my gift after we ate,” Pepper began. “I was trying to figure out how best to approach this.” 

She reached into her coat pocket and took out a glasses case. Peter’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. She held out the case to him. He took it gently, looking up at her before opening it. Inside was a pair of familiar yet new glasses. 

They looked like the kind Tony would’ve worn. 

Peter gulped and traced the frame of the glasses with his fingertip. “He was always three steps ahead,” Pepper whispered. “I don’t think he knew what would happen when he left. But I think he was going over every option, every risk he could think of. And, just in case, he made these. They’re for you.”

Peter looked up sharply. Why did this surprise him? He knew Tony well. Tony was always thinking about the what-ifs. He prepared for some of them, the ones he thought could really happen. It shouldn’t surprise him that Tony left things behind for those that were still there. 

And yet it did. Maybe Peter thought he wouldn’t be there either. Maybe Peter thought he wasn’t that important. Maybe it was both. 

Peter took the glasses out of the case. He unfolded the arms and only hesitated for a second before putting them on. 

Immediately screens bloomed to life. Tinged blue, the system within the glasses began to start up. Peter tried his best not to think about the screen within the suit, the ones he saw when he was repairing the ship or recording that message. But then the screen changed, fading from blue to gray. Suddenly, photos began to appear, one at a time, before being replaced with another. 

Tears gathered in his eyes. All of the pictures were of him and Tony, and of May and Ned and MJ and Pepper and the bots. Peter’s eyes flickered to the right of the screen and suddenly he was torn between sobs and laughter. The file was called “the Brady Bunch.” 

“There’s a message on there,” Pepper told him quietly, unable to see the pictures, glasses obscuring his eyes and tears. She smiled sadly. “I can leave if you want to listen to it.” 

Peter couldn’t breathe. Grief strangled him. He didn’t respond, just clamped a hand over his mouth as he began to cry. 

He hadn’t allowed himself to do it before. There was a next step he had to get to. There was a meeting he had to attend, training to complete, housework to finish, Pepper to help. There was always something else to distract him, to keep him busy. But now…

Now it was right in front of him. All that he had lost. All that he had loved and cherished. All that was gone. And he couldn’t do anything about it. He had lost everything. 

But when he pitched forward, the force of his sudden sobs throwing him off balance, he was intimately aware that while that was true, he had lost so much, he had gained something too. 

Pepper’s hands steadied him. Strong and warm, her hands splayed over his shoulders. She gently led him off the chair and onto the ground. She took the glasses off his face, placing them on the table above. And then, there, she just held him. 

She rubbed his back as he sobbed and held him. “It’s okay, Peter,” she whispered. “It’s okay. Grieve, hun. You’re allowed to grieve.” 

Maybe that was what he had needed: permission. For someone to force him to take a step back and see what he had lost and tell him that it was okay to let go. Because once Pepper was done speaking, he reached up and gripped her coat and sobbed into her shoulder. 

He felt like he was falling. His family was gone. He was the only one left. He had no ground to stand on. No May to cup his face and kiss his forehead. No Tony to offer encouragement and reassurances and snark and warm arms around his shoulders. No Ned to chatter with or play with LEGOs. No MJ to draw with or tease and banter and snicker with during class. 

But he had Pepper. Pepper was there. She was holding him. She was rubbing his back and humming softly and she was warm. 

He might’ve been falling but Pepper caught him and it wasn’t the same as May or even Tony and it didn’t feel better than either of them but it felt just as right. 

Peter gripped her coat, sobbed, let go and finally, finally, grieved. 

Peter didn’t watch the message. He would later though when he was ready. 

For now, he had to focus on the people in his life, the ones who were still there. He could remember and reminisce until he was ready to face the message. 

Pepper was around four months along when Natasha Romanoff came to him. 

“Aren’t you a little young to be doing all of this?” she asked after a meeting. She was joining him for the walk back to the car. 

“Probably,” he admitted. He felt a little nervous talking to the Black Widow herself but he had gotten used to appearing composed and cool under scrutiny. Leading those meetings did wonders for learning how to control your expressions and reactions. “But I haven’t been called out yet, so I’m assuming my work is adequate.” 

“You’re smart, I’ll give you that,” she said. “I’m just wondering what else you are.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Peter tilted his head, meeting Natasha’s eyes. 

“Who is Pepper to you?” she asked instead of answering. 

“A friend,” he replied immediately. That was true, just not the whole of it. 

Natasha could sense that. She quirked an eyebrow. Peter gave her nothing else. She smirked. 

After a moment more of silent walking, they reached the car. They stopped a few feet away when Natasha turned to him. “I like you,” she told him plainly. “Swing by the Compound sometime if you want a training partner.” 

Peter didn’t have to wonder if the word choice was intentional. He didn’t know Natasha well, but she rarely did anything without a purpose. 

“I might take you up on that,” he said pleasantly. “I’ll see you next time, ma’am.” 

“Keep me updated on Pepper.” 

They went their separate ways, Natasha walking back into the Compound and Peter driving away. 

It would be a week later before Peter took up Natasha’s offer. Well, kinda. 

Peter entered the Compound and walked to the common room. Natasha wasn’t in there. However, her things were. 

Peter, expression screwed up in confusion, ventured farther into the Compound. It was only when he heard distant classical music coming from one of the rooms did he stop. 

He walked to the source of music and paused outside the windows looking into the room. He blinked.  

Natasha was dancing. Beautifully, at that. It looked like ballet. She was graceful and skilled, fast and smooth, strong and controlled. She was more than talented. 

But Peter could sense something private about it too. So he stepped back and away, heading back to the common rooms. There, he busied himself with a book from the shelves. 

It was maybe twenty minutes before Natasha came down the hall. Peter heard her pause halfway down it before hearing the familiar sound of a gun being pulled out. 

“It’s just me!” he called, not looking up from the book. 

He heard the gun’s safety being flicked on then being put back. He looked up in time to see Natasha round the corner. She was still in her pointe shoes. 

“Kid, what are you doing here?” she asked, kindly ignoring the way he flinched at the word “kid.” 

“Thought I would take you up on that training,” he said, “but I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

“Oh,” she mumbled before moving over to the fridge. She grabbed a cold water bottle from it, leaning against it once it was shut. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” A pause, then, “I didn’t know you danced.” 

“I don’t. Not often.” 

“You’re really good. Your fouettés are amazing.” 

“Thank you. What do you know about ballet?”

Peter’s expression formed into one of surprise. Interesting question. “Not a whole lot. I used to dance but I stopped when I was around thirteen.” 

“How much do you remember?”

“Most of it.” 

“Then get in here. This will be your training.” 

Peter hadn’t forgotten how distinctly private Natasha’s dancing had felt. She was opening up the door to her own world. It was a one time offer, take it or leave it, Peter knew. 

So instead of questioning it, he just nodded and got up, following her to the little room. 

It became a regular thing for the two of them. Actual training did happen but mostly... mostly they just danced. 

Peter did not celebrate Christmas the way he used to. 

Instead, he invited Pepper and only Pepper to come and watch him dance. They went out for coffee and sweets afterward. 

They fell asleep in front of the fireplace that night, miniature Christmas tree Rhodey had gotten them illuminating the rest of the room. 

It was not a kind Christmas or even a happy one. But it was warm. And that was a start. 

The February day Morgan Antonia Potts was born, Peter was there every step of the way. 

He was the one who drove Pepper to the hospital. He was the one to hold Pepper’s hand as she delivered Morgan. He was the one to wipe the sweat off her forehead. He was the one to sit by her side, slightly perched on the corner of the bed, muttering teasingly, “Not bad, Pep,” as Morgan was taken away to be cleaned. 

Pepper laughed through her tears. “Hi, Morgan,” she said adoringly when the bundle was placed in her arms. Morgan’s little face, all scrunched up and red, peaked through the purple fabric. “Hi, sweetheart.” 

Peter leaned over a little from his seat. Morgan was the most darling thing he had ever seen. He had never felt this kind of love before, something so protective and visceral and strong. He would die for Morgan, he knew it at that moment. He would lay down in his life if it meant she was happy and okay. 

Pepper leaned back, exhausted but awake. She shifted closer to Peter, looking over at him. “Do you want to hold her?” she asked. 

Peter blanched, brightened and nodded. Pepper smiled and handed Morgan off gently, slowly, instructing Peter on how to hold her properly. Peter felt like he was holding the most precious thing to ever exist. He smiled, smiled so wide it hurt and didn’t care when tears began to roll down his cheeks. “Hi, Morgan,” he said in awe, voice light and breathless. 

Pepper shifted so that she was leaning against Peter’s side. Peter lowered the baby in his arms so that Pepper wouldn’t have to strain to see her. “Morgan,” Pepper said, somehow sounding both delicate, light and strong, steady. “This is Peter.” Pepper traced her finger over Morgan’s face with reverence. “He’s your big brother.” 

Peter’s head snapped up, shock zipping up his spine. He stared at Pepper who just gazed back at him with something kind in her eyes. “He’ll protect you and love you, Morgan,” she continued, not looking away from Peter. “I think he already does.” 

The shock was sinking down Peter’s legs. What’s the next step? a part of him asked on instinct. 

He looked away from Pepper and back to Morgan. Her little face was still all scrunched up but her face was less red. She was precious. And she was his responsibility now. He had lost much within the year but had gained so much. Tony, May, Ned, and MJ would always be a part of his family but they weren’t there now. It hurt, it would always hurt, but he had to focus on what he had, on Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and Nebula and the bots and Natasha. And now Morgan. What he had was absolutely precious and he was going to do anything to protect it. 

“Yeah,” he spoke, “I do.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead, eyes closed. 

This, he told himself, is the next step. This will always be my next step. 

Chapter Text

Tony wakes up and blinks. 

God, he feels tired. And sore. Strangely sore. 

But he pays it no mind as he sits ups and rolls his shoulder back. Aches and pains were nothing new to him. 

He gets up, pulling the cover back over the bed--and Pepper. 

She is still sleeping and Tony intends to let her continue dreaming for as long as she needed. 

He walks to the kitchen and begins the coffee pot. He leans against the island counter and sighs. 

He feels good. He’s been feeling good for a while now. He’s married, he has a house, he has a family of friends who love him and who he loves back. 

He’s happy and content and… 

Tony shifts. 

And… something else. 

Was there something else? Was he forgetting something? 

No… he couldn’t be. He has Pepper, he has his family, he has his home. What more could he need? 

Tony shakes his head and breathes in, beginning to make breakfast. 

He doesn’t need anything else. He has everything he thought he never would. He loves and is loved. 

But the thought won’t go away. What could he possibly be missing? 

Tony, like the aches and pains, ignores the question. 

Tony blinks and breathes and suddenly, it’s a different day. 

It’s his birthday in fact. 

His head feels a bit fuzzy but his body aches too and that’s something he ignores so the headache is thrown in with that too. 

It’s night and everyone is asleep beside him. 

It feels nice. He feels happy. He feels content. He’s a year older than he was two hours ago and he feels pretty good. 

And something else. 

It feels familiar. Like he’s felt this feeling before. 

He doesn’t like this feeling, so much so that he reaches up to rub his chest. It’s a physical thing. Like there’s a part of him that’s been etched out. 

God, he swears he’s felt this before. 

Tony’s face screws up under his confusion. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t like not understanding. 

All he knows that it feels like something’s missing. 

What could he be missing? He had Pepper and a home and a family that he just celebrated with. 

What could he be missing?

It-It has to be nothing. He doesn’t need anything else. He has everything he needs. 

Tony bites his lips and tells himself not to worry. He’s probably just tired. What he’s missing is sleep. 

He tells himself that on repeat as he walks to his room. He tells himself that on repeat even as he closes his eyes and fails to fall asleep. 

Tony wakes up and blinks and makes up his mind. 

He is missing something. There’s something that needs to be there and isn’t. 

But he can’t remember what it is. He can’t remember and it’s driving him insane. 

He gets out of bed, careful not to disturb Pepper, and goes to the kitchen. 

He paces the length of the room more times than he can count. 

He’s missing something, he’s missing something, he’s missing something. 

And he doesn’t know what. 

It was important, he knows that. It had to be important, he wouldn’t be this manic over it if it wasn’t. 

It was important, it was so important. It was vital, Tony knew it was so important, so special. 

But that was it. He didn’t know anything else and the fact of that crawls into his chest and threatens to burst it open. 

It hurt and it was scary and Tony didn’t know what he was missing. 

Tony has to stop, has to force himself to breathe. 

He stands on shaking legs, presses his hand to his mouth as desperation crawls up his throat. 

He doesn’t understand, he just knows and that’s not enough. 

He’s missing something and it’s important and he doesn’t know what it is and--

Tony blinks and it’s a different day, maybe even a different month. 

His chest feels weird, a little tight but he doesn’t give it any mind. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. 

His head hurts too. Like he had just spent that past ten hours working nonstop and only just not got a break. 

But Tony doesn’t give it any attention. He is used to aches and pains and this is no different so he ignores it. 

There’s something else he’s ignoring but he can’t put this finger on it. But if he’s ignoring it even subconsciously then it must’ve been not very important in the first place. 

Chapter Text

A little more than half a year after Morgan was born, Peter graduated high school early. 

Pepper demanded that they celebrate. Peter only resisted when Rhodey began suggesting more extravagant ideas. “Just,” Peter said, “I just want to spend time with you guys. Is that so bad?” 

In the end, they ordered Thai food and baked until they were out of flour. Peter invited Natasha for the baking. Lord knows she needed to get out of the Compound for a little bit. Morgan stayed in her high chair for the duration they baked, laughing and babbling when Peter bopped her nose with flour. 

“So now what, malen'kiy pauk ?” Natasha asked, leaning on her elbows against the counter. Flour and oil were splattered on her hands. “What college should be preparing for your arrival?” 

“About that,” Peter started slowly. Natasha turned to face him fully from where he cleaned up the kitchen. The others were in the living room, entertaining Morgan. “I applied to a few colleges and I’ve heard back from a bunch. I just… I don’t know. I’m nervous. I’ll be pretty far regardless of where I end up going.” 

“You know we’re all just a phone call away, right?” Natasha said eyebrow arched, looking distinctly amused. 

“Of course,” he chuckled because he did know that. “It’s just--I don’t know. I’m nervous about far away, or not being able to be right there for meetings or work or if anyone needs help.” 

“Peter,” Natasha began smoothly, “you’re allowed to be a kid for a little bit. You’re only eighteen. Go, these are special years in your life.” 

“Have you been talking with Rhodey?” he teased, eyebrow raised, a smile on his lips. 

“Perhaps.” There was far too much mirth in her eyes. 

“I know I’ll be fine,” Peter told her. “It’s just nerves.” 

“Find a dance studio wherever you end up going. Put on your shoes and go out for a bit.” 

“You just want me to practice,” he said, chuckling, waving the cleaning rag at her. 

“Who, me?” she said dryly, smirking. 

“I’ll be fine, Nat, I know I will be,” he insisted. A gleeful shriek from Morgan ended their conversation.

Next step, he thought to himself, is figure out where you’re going to college. 

Peter ultimately chose a college. 

MIT. 

Roughly four hours away from home. 

He would be fine, he knew that. 

It was just a little far and it was the same college Tony went to and it was just… 

A lot. It was a big change. 

When he told Pepper and Rhodey, he knew he wasn’t the only one thinking of Tony. No words were exchanged really. Pepper just stood up, passing Morgan over to Rhodey, and stepped up to Peter, cupping his face before lowering it and kissing his forehead. She pulled him into a hug, with Rhodey joining with Morgan a second later.

Peter packed up his things, moved onto campus, and went to college. 

It was amazing. 

He missed home but it was nice to be out. He was so focused on how he could help the world, how each meeting could benefit others, that he hadn’t looked up and at the actual world in a while. 

It was nice. He got coffee from a little hole in the wall café most mornings. He found a dance studio nearby and went every weekend. He met new people and did new things. 

And it was on a Saturday night, when he was alone in his dorm room, lying in bed, that he finally watched Tony’s message. 

He hadn’t forgotten about. He just never felt ready enough to watch it. So he put it off for two years and hated himself a little for it. But he came to realize that he would never be truly ready. He would never watch the message if he waited until he was ready. 

So when he was alone, he slipped on the glasses. He kept them, along with a note from Pepper, a drawing from Morgan, one of the books Rhodey had given him, and a photo of his entire family in his bag at all times. 

He put them on, watching the blue screen bloom to life. He smiled even though his heart ached. 

He licked his lips, opened his mouth, and said, “Hey, Karen.” 

There was a small beeping sound and then, “Hello, Peter. It is very nice to hear from you again.”

He snickered quietly. “You too, Karen,” he told her. “Do me a favor and pull up Tony’s message for me, will ya?” 

“Of course,” she replied. “Would you like the audio, similar to how I am communicating to you now, or would you like the full-body scan?” 

Peter blinked. “What’s the difference?” he asked. 

“Mr. Stark--” Peter hadn’t heard that name used in a while, “--recorded the message with the intention of it being just an audio recording. However, FRIDAY automatically records a body scan of each recording. Which one would you like to see?” 

Peter took in a shaky breath. He was doing this. This was the next step for tonight. 

“Show me the full-body scan recording.” 

“Right away.” 

The images on the screens went by too fast for Peter to keep track of. It flickered and changed and then there was something Peter could see out of the corner of his eye. 

“Woo. Okay. Let’s… yeah, let’s do this.” 

Peter sat up, nearly smacking his head into the top bunk above him. He turned and came face to face with Tony Stark. 

He was sitting on a stool from the labs. He looked… normal. No suit, no injuries. He was in a t-shirt, jeans, both of which were stained with coffee and such. “FRIDAY, you rollin’?” he asked, looking up towards the ceiling. He was definitely in the labs then. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Perfect.” He clapped his hands together and then said nothing. He looked into the camera, clearly battling with himself. He then chuckled, letting his head hang before looking back up. “I’ve done this before. More times than I would like, or I’m sure at least more than Pepper would like. But, hey! I’ve done this before, it shouldn’t be this… hard.” 

Tony sighed. Peter stared. 

“Okay, lemme start over.” Tony stood from the stool and paced around it. The hologram occasionally clipped into the desk. He then sat back down and looked into the camera. “Hey, kid.” 

Peter choked back the sob that had risen in his throat. 

“Now I don’t know when you’re gonna see this,” Tony continued. “Hell, if things go well, which would be a miracle and then some, then maybe you’ll never see this. Honestly, that’s what I’m hoping for. But… if you are seeing this, then clearly things went a little sideways, huh? Which happens. In our line of business, this happens… I’m just sorry it’s happening to you.” 

Tony leaned back, fixing Peter with a small yet warm smile. “Now don’t go blaming yourself for anything that happened.” He waved his hand as though he could hear Peter’s hypothetical protests. “I don’t care what happened. I don’t. As long as you and Pepper and Rhodey and everyone else are okay, I don’t care. Because whatever happened, I know for a fact that it’s not your fault. I just know it, Pete! You can’t argue with me on that. I’m older, therefore much wiser and better at knowing things.” 

Peter snorted, blinking away tears. 

Tony sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “The purpose of this recording, is, well… I leave one behind for Pepper, for Rhodey and Happy. Once upon a time, I left some for the others too. But that’s beside the point. The point is, is that you’ve managed to worm your way into my circle, Parker.” He arched an eyebrow, looking accusingly at Peter. “Don’t know how but you have… and I don’t resent that. If anything… well, I don’t mind it. At all. I’ve been many things but a mentor wasn’t on that list until you. And I’ll admit, I like the way it looks. It’s good on me, don’t you agree?” 

Peter found himself nodding. 

“But enough about me,” Tony amended, leaning forward to rest with his elbows on his knees. “Time for more about you. You better be looking me in the eye, young man! This is serious.” 

Peter laughed, shifting in his seat. He didn’t bother wiping away the tears on his cheeks and chin. 

“You,” Tony started slowly, meaningfully, “are so much more than anyone thinks. Hell, even more than I think. Because you’re never going to stop growing, Pete. You’ll only get better. And I know that for a fact, kiddo.” He held out his and began to count off his fingers. “Germany,” index finger, “you amazed me there even if you were just a teenybopper. Homecoming,” middle finger, “you did everything I told you not to do and you saved my ass. I didn’t exactly want my tech in others’ hands; I’ve seen what that leads to before.” He winked at Peter like he was sharing an inside joke. “Every little report you send in,” ring finger, “which aren’t even necessary but are a delight to listen to. You’re out there, looking out for the little guy. The world needs more people like that, Peter; more people like you. Lab time,” pinkie finger, and an eye roll, “I shouldn’t even need to explain this one. You’re a smart kid, kid. Some of the shit you come up is brilliant. And I know, again if you’re watching this, that I’m probably not around anymore. But the labs are yours. Legally, if you want them to be, but otherwise, you have full range. Don’t hesitate to sneak in there. The bots can let you in. 

“In literally everything else,” thumb, “you are going to take the world by storm, Pete. I know this. You’re going to be so much better than any of us; than the whole of us combined. You’re gonna be great. My only regret is that I’m not going to be there to see it. But you’re gonna be okay, Peter. More than. You’re--You’re gonna blow us all away. I hope the world is ready for you.” Tony smiled then glanced away. He looked back and said, “For a while, I’ve worried about what I was going to leave behind for the world. I can take care of you guys but it’s different when it’s everyone else. I stressed and worked and wondered, as I do. But a legacy, that--that’s what I wanted to leave behind. Something to make sure the world stayed safe, kept spinning.” He paused, looked Peter in eyes and said, “You’re that legacy, Peter. I think you’ve always been, it just took me a little while to see it. But you’re it, kid. As Peter Parker and Spider-Man. It doesn’t matter if its one or the other, or both. You’re going to change the world, Peter, for the better. For the much, much better. I’m lucky that I even got to help you, let alone be a part of any of it. 

Tony heaved a heavy sigh. He looked tired but also proud. He smiled again. “You’re gonna be amazing, kid. You already are. I think, though, more importantly, is you’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna trip and stumble and cut your knees--a lot… but you’re gonna be just fine. You have all the support in the world. And I-I know you don’t have me anymore, which sucks probably, but… you’re gonna be okay, Peter. You’re gonna be okay.” 

Peter’s whole body trembled, shook with grief and sobs. 

“So go on, young buck,” Tony finished, smirking. “Go, change the world, explore, trip and stumble and then get back up. You got this, kid. You’ve more than got this. Now don’t forget about me, kid! I’ll sense it and come back and haunt your cabinets. I don’t think May would like that much.” Another wink. Tony sobered quickly though, standing from the chair and settling on his knees. He looked up at Peter, eyes shining. “You’re gonna be the best of us all, Peter Parker. I…” his eyes darted down, uncertain and suddenly nervous. He laughed at himself, nose twitching. “It’s just a recording,” he whispered to himself. “The kid might not even see this. God, I don’t know if that’s better or worse.” Tony looked back up, something daring mixing in with the nervousness in his eyes. “I… love you, kid. I do. I really do. You’re so much better than me, than anyone and I’m so glad I got to see that first hand. I’m sorry I didn’t say it more. But I mean it. I really do.” 

Tony smiled one last time, bright and genuine. “You’re gonna be okay, Peter. You’re gonna be okay. Now go on, kid. Everything’s gonna be fine. I love you.” 

Tony flickered before disappearing completely. The blue tint of the screen faded. 

Peter sat there, still, staring where Tony had been. 

Tears poured down his face with no resistance. He allowed himself to cry. He cried with grief, with shock, with relief, with happiness. 

It was never easy. It was never going to be. There would always be a hole in his heart where his family used to be. But it would get better. Not easier but better. He’d be able to look back at it all, remember his family and smile. It would always hurt but that was because he had loved them. He still did. And that was never going to be a bad thing. 

Peter sucked in a deep breath and took off the glasses to wipe his eyes. He bit his lip, trying to at least be a little quiet in his distress. “Karen,” he rasped. 

“Yes, Peter?” she said softly. She was always so aware, emotionally, for an AI. 

“Start and broadcast all images under ‘the Brady Bunch,’ yeah?” he told her, reaching to his bedside table to grab his phone. 

“Of course,” Karen responded. Soon all the images on the file popped up before being cast out into the room in the same blue light Tony had been. The photos floated around, disappearing after about fifteen seconds. The soft glow reminded Peter of a nightlight. 

He unlocked his phone and went to his photo gallery. “Sending more photos to the file, Karen,” he said, “add ‘em to the stream.” 

“Will do, Peter.” 

When he was done with that, he called Pepper. “Peter?” she mumbled once she picked up, voice heavy with sleep. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling so late?” 

Peter blinked and looked at his clock. He winced. It was a little after midnight. Not too late but Pepper had to deal with Morgan and needed every ounce of sleep she could get. 

“Sorry, I didn’t see the time,” he said quietly. “I’ll let you go. Night--” 

“Peter, hun, it’s fine,” Pepper told him, a little more awake than before. “What’s going on? Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, shaking his head, “I just… I think I’m gonna visit this weekend. Come over for a day or two.” 

“Oh. Oh, okay, yeah that’s fine. You know the door is always open. Are you sure you’re okay? You sound a little stuffy.” 

He chuckled breathlessly. Pepper could see right through anything. “I watched the message,” he told her. No use in hiding it. “The one Tony left for me.” 

It was silent for a moment. “Oh,” Pepper said, clearly surprised. She sighed. “Are you alright?” 

Peter didn’t respond immediately. He looked at the photos floating around the room. Photos of May and Tony, of Ned and MJ, of Pepper and Morgan, of Rhodey and Nebula, of him and Natasha. He thought about Tony’s message. 

“You are so much more than anyone thinks.”

“The world needs more people like that, Peter; more people like you.” 

“You’re gonna blow us all away.” 

“You’re that legacy, Peter.” 

“You’re gonna be the best of us all, Peter Parker.” 

“You’re gonna be okay, Peter. You’re gonna be okay.” 

“I… love you, kid. I do. I really do.” 

Peter wiped his cheeks, sniffed, and said, “No. But I will be.” 

Pepper was silent before she chuckled a little. “Yeah, Peter, you will be.” 

When Peter came back for the weekend, for the first time since he was sixteen, he puts on the Spider-Man suit. 

He nearly cried when he went out swinging for the first time, and actually did cry when he made it to the city and climbed the nearest tall building. 

It felt good to be out. It felt good to be Spider-Man. 

“You’re gonna be the best of us all, Peter Parker.” 

Peter smiled and tipped backward, freefalling. 

Time to prove that. 

Peter came back for the winter holidays, armed with many, many gifts. 

He entered the cabin to the excited shrieks of Morgan. He beamed at her, placing his bags down before scooping her up from Pepper’s arms. “Hello, darling,” he said warmly, holding her close to his chest. “Have you been good to Mum?” 

“Only when she wants to,” Pepper jested, smiling and standing to hug Peter. 

“Is that the kid?” Happy called from the other room. 

“Yep!” Peter yelled back. Morgan clapped at the sounds, babbling on her own too. 

Peter sat down with Morgan, setting her down on his lap. “Have you been good, little miss?” he asked her again quietly. “I’m sure you have!” 

Morgan giggled and patted his face. “Thank you,” he said then turned to Pepper. “I can’t believe she’s almost one.” 

“She’s gotten so big, huh?” Pepper said fondly, coming to sit beside them. “You too. Look at you, college man. It’s been treating you good, right?” 

Peter snorted, letting Morgan play with his hands. “It’s awesome,” he told her. “My roommates are great. Super nice. Pretty good study buddies too. Oh! And Gwen--I told you about her, right? Anyway, she’s starting her own band, which is amazing. She’s been using some of her music for routines and it kinda works.” 

“Fun,” Pepper remarked. “Are you eating enough?”  

“Yep,” Peter chuckled. “I’m fine over there. Homesick, but fine.” 

“Just making sure,” she said, brushing a stray strand of hair behind his ear. They smiled at each other.

Happy came in a moment later with Rhodey. They all exchanged hellos before being to chat idly about everything. 

Peter leaned back in his seat, holding Morgan close, and sighed. 

It felt good to be home. 

It was a week after Morgan turned one that she said her first word. 

Or well, technically her second. She had a steady stream of “ma-ma-ma-ma” going at all times. It was what she called everyone but Pepper always got three “ma”s instead of just two. 

Peter was home for her birthday, went back and then home again for February break. 

He was about an hour out from home when he got a call from Pepper. “Hello,” he greeted when he picked up, eyes on the road. 

“Hey, Pete,” Pepper’s warm voice crooned. There was excitement there too. “I have a surprise for you when you get home.” 

“Pep,” he laughed, “what? Why? I mean, thank you but what’s the occasion?” 

“There is no occasion,” Pepper explained. “And it’s not technically from me.” 

“Is it from Morguna?” 

“What gave it away?” They both chuckled. “Be ready when you get here.” 

“Good lord,” he muttered. “This better be good, Potts.” 

“Doubt me all you want, Parker. It’s a good one.” 

Peter snorted. “I’m fifty minutes out, I’ll see you soon. Love you,” he said. 

“Love you too. Bye.” 

“Bye.” He hung up. 

He got there in due time and pulled into the driveway. He parked and got out of the car, rushing to the cabin. He could get his stuff out of the car later.

“I’m home!” he called into the house, stuffing the keys into his pocket. 

Pepper came around the corner, holding Morgan on her hip, a smile on her lips. 

Instead of greeting him, however, she stopped in front of him and turned to Morgan, who seemed to still be waking up. “Hey, baby,” she murmured to Morgan, “looks who’s here.” 

Morgan clumsily rubbed her eyes, sitting up with a pout on her face. Peter smiled at the adorable expression. She looked around until her eyes landed on Peter. She brightened, smiling, showing off her few teeth. She outstretched her arms, making grabby hands. 

And then she said, “Bih-bah.” 

Peter blinked. And blinked again. “Uh,” he stammered, “thank you?” 

“Bih-bah,” she repeated, whining now. She was still reaching for him. 

Peter took her from Pepper, still trying to figure out what she was saying. “Bih-bah,” he parroted back, looking to Pepper who looked very, very amused. 

“Bih-bah!” Morgan agreed happily. 

“Bih-bah, Pepper.” They both chuckled. “What’s happening? Is this the surprise?” 

“Yes, yes it is,” Pepper said proudly. “Because… Morgan.” 

The little girl looked over at the sound of her name. “Morgan, where’s Peter?” Pepper asked, chin jutted out ever so slightly. 

“Bih-bah!” Morgan cheered, smacking his face. 

Peter grabbed her hand. “Thanks, Morguna. I still don’t get it.” 

Pepper sighed but was ever patient. “Morgan,” she repeated, purposeful, “where’s your big brother ?” 

“Bih-bah!” Morgan said insistently, clearly tired of not being understood.

It took Peter a second longer to put it together. But it clicked eventually. 

Big brother. Bih-bah. Bih-g bah-rother. 

“Oh, is that me?” he asked, voice hushed and adoring, looking down at Morgan. He held her hand out and began to sway as though he were dancing with her. “Is that me, little miss?” 

“Bih-bah.” 

That was all Peter needed to hear. Peter held Morgan close and spun around once before landing on the couch. “Oh you are amazing!” he cried, love bursting from every inch of him. “That’s right, I’m your big brother. I’m your Bih-bah.” Morgan giggled. 

“If you’re not careful, you’ll be Bih-bah for the rest of your life,” Pepper teased, standing behind the couch. 

“Good,” Peter insisted, kissing Morgan’s forehead. “I never want to be anything else.” 

It was March when he went to Europe for a college trip. 

Both he and Pepper were a bit nervous to be so far from one another. But Pepper wanted him to go. “It’ll be good to be out,” she said. “Besides, you’ve never been out of the country except for Germany. It’ll be fun.” 

Peter agreed. And so he went. He packed a suitcase and he went. Pepper insisted that he bring his Spider-Man suit. “I don’t want anything to happen,” she told him, hugging him on his way out, “but I also don’t want you to be underprepared.” 

He went to Europe and was there for one day when things changed.

It was March when he met Quentin Beck, when he met Mysterio. 

Beck was charming. That was the first thing Peter had noticed. He was charming and charismatic. He had a sharp eye and a sharper tongue. He told Peter he was from a different dimension, that there were many running parallel to his. He told Peter that what had destroyed his world could destroy Peter’s. 

Peter trusted Beck and that was his first mistake. He worked with Beck, watched him nearly die, talked with him. 

It hurt for a few different reasons, the biggest ones he’d learn later. But it hurt because there was something about Beck that reminded Peter of Tony. The charm, the compliments, the advice. They were different but Peter missed Tony. It hurt more when he was with Beck. 

But he made his first mistake and that was the only one he needed to make. 

Because it wasn’t until morning did he realize the pair of glasses Tony had given him were gone. 

And then Beck told him to meet him at an old building Nick Fury used to run. 

“Meet me here at twelve. We need to talk.” 

And then Beck showed his true colors. He used the glasses against Peter. He turned against Peter. 

“I know this isn’t real!” 

“Do you though? I don’t think you know what’s real, Peter.” 

“I mean look at yourself. You are just a scared little kid, in a sweatsuit!” 

“If you were good enough, maybe Tony would still be alive.” 

“You know I’m right.” 

Peter ended up in the Netherlands, hurt and lost. 

But he called Happy and went back because Beck was unstable, he was a threat. Spider-Man, and Peter Parker for that matter, wasn’t about to let him get away with his plan. 

Peter returned and he fought and he won. 

“You can’t trick me anymore.” 

But that didn’t mean Beck couldn’t hurt him anymore. 

Before he could get the glasses back, one final attack was ordered from Beck. 

“Fire all the drones NOW!” 

Peter would later find out their aim had been for his heart. 

With his sixth sense back in action though, he was able to avoid it. 

Most of it anyway. 

Peter managed to jump out of the way and over to Beck, snatching the glasses back. 

He deactivated the drones right after the attack hit his leg. 

Peter didn’t remember the attack. The pain had been too overwhelming. He had blacked out for most of it.

But when he came back to his senses, he couldn’t move. 

Beck was dead, slumped over and lifeless, and he couldn’t move. 

“Karen,” he whimpered out, rolling onto his forearms. “Deactivate all the drones. Send them back. Then call Happy.” 

“Right away.” 

Peter counted the seconds it took. 

Eleven seconds later, Happy’s voice rang through. 

“Where are you?” 

“Pathway. Bridge. Hurry. I can’t move.” 

“...what do you mean you can’t move?” 

Peter grunted and tried to shift himself. He bit back a shout as pain coursed up his body. He risked a look back and regretted it as soon as he did. 

His leg was nothing but a mangled mess of blood and burns. If it hadn’t been attached to his body, Peter never would’ve recognized it as his leg. 

He looked away and swallowed a scream as a new wave of pain ran through him. “My leg,” he gasped out, black dots dancing in his vision. “It’s, uh, not good.” 

“Okay, kid, okay,” Happy said, clearly stressed. It was odd, hearing the usually composed man sound that way. It wasn’t the first time Peter had seen Happy stressed but it was still odd. “Give me two minutes. I’ll be right there.” 

“Okay, Hap,” Peter said, trying his best to stay present. The pain and blood loss was making it a bit hard. 

“I need you to stay awake, kid. Come on. Just for two minutes,” Happy told him. 

“Don’t think I can.” His arms gave out, leaving him lying on his stomach. His vision was going dark.

“Come on, kid, just a little while longer.” Happy sounded panicked. 

“S’rry. Can’t.” 

“Kid? Kid! Peter!” 

Peter woke up to white walls. 

Four white walls and white covers and a white pillow and a white ceiling.

This is familiar, he thought to himself. 

He blinked three times before being able to bare the lighting. 

His whole body was sore. It hurt and throbbed. It started near his legs and resonated out. It was sharp, like someone had taken the pain from every stab wound he had ever received and spread the sensation throughout his whole body. 

It was maddening, to say the least. 

Peter closed his eyes and breathed in. If he could focus on that, and only that, then maybe he’d be fine. 

“Pete? You up, kid?” 

Peter opened his eyes again and looked to his left. 

Rhodey was sitting there, a small book in hand. When their eyes met, Rhodey tried for a smile but it looked weak. “Hey,” he said warmly. “How are you feeling?” 

“Hurts,” he mumbled, coughing a little. His throat was dry. He licked his lips. “Where are we?” 

“I’d be worried if it didn’t hurt,” Rhodey said, shifting in his seat. He didn’t seem uncomfortable, just worried. “And we’re in London still. What do you remember?” 

Peter looked away, eyes flickering to the ground. What did he remember? 

Beck.  

“You’re just a scared little kid, in a sweatsuit!” 

The train. 

The Netherlands. 

Happy, coming to get him. 

“I just really miss them.” 

Building the suit. 

Fighting Beck. 

“You can’t trick me anymore.” 

“Fire all the drones NOW!” 

Getting the glasses back. 

Pain. Blacking out. 

“Hurry. I can’t move.” 

“I need you to stay awake.” 

“S’rry. Can’t.” 

Nothingness. 

“Beck,” he said quietly. “Then the bridge an-and most of what happened there.” His eyes darted back up to Rhodey. “The drones, they-they’re gone, right? Everyone’s okay?” 

“The most damage happened to the bridge and to you,” Rhodey told him. “What else do you remember?”

“Beck’s order,” he replied immediately. “I called Happy.” 

Rhodey nodded. “He came and grabbed you. We’re at an old SHIELD base. Nick Fury helped keep it up and running, even after… y’know. We’re safe here.” 

Panic flared in Peter. His heart monitors spiked. 

“Meet me here at twelve. We need to talk.” 

“Wow, Peter. Wow. I thought we were close! In order for me to come into the picture, Stark always had to die; but not you!” 

Rhodey straightened, looking back and forth between Peter and the monitor. 

“Peter, what’s wrong?” he asked, eyes finally stopping on Peter. 

“Nothing, nothing,” he dismissed, willing his heart and nerves to calm. He closed his eyes, bringing his hand up to press against his forehead. It hurt but it kept him grounded. “Just--Last time I was in one of these things, it was an illusion and it ended in me getting hit by a train and ending up in the Netherlands.” 

Peter opened his eyes when Rhodey said nothing, coming to see his horrified expression. “What?” he asked, feeling suddenly a bit embarrassed. 

Rhodey just shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment before saying, “Jesus Christ.” 

Peter shrugged. He was still alive, wasn’t he? He could work with that. 

“When am I free?” he said teasingly, going to sit up. 

But Rhodey was quick to stop him. “About that,” he said softly, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder to keep him still. “Pete…” 

“What’s wrong?” Peter didn’t need his sixth sense to know something was. 

Rhodey sighed. It was a heavy sound. “Beck’s attack was aimed for your heart,” he explained, “but you managed to avoid most of it.” 

“Most of it,” Peter repeated. He remembered clearly now. It had hit his leg instead. 

Rhodey did nothing as Peter used his arms to sit himself up. It hurt. It hurt a lot and suddenly Peter knew why. 

The sheets outlined the lower half of his body. Where his legs were, Peter could see the distinct outline of his left leg, his left thigh, his knee, calf and shin, his foot. And where his right leg was, all Peter could see was his thigh and his knee. The sheets caved after his knee. 

There was nothing after his knee. 

Peter’s breath stuttered. 

Rhodey noticed his discovery, squeezing his shoulder. “You were losing blood,” he began softly, keeping his voice slow and steady, calm and low, “and even if you hadn’t been at that rate you were, very little of it was repairable. They had to amputate, Peter.” 

Peter forced himself to look away, forced himself to breathe, forced himself to focus. His mind was spinning, fraying at the edges. He needed to focus. There was a next step to this; there was always a next step. He just had to find it and go. 

He swallowed, looking away from his legs--his leg. “What now?” he asked. He could still work with this. He just had to take a few new things into consideration. But he could work with this. He could go on and figure it out. 

Rhodey squeezed his shoulder again. “Now, you heal up,” he said. “We’ll go from there.” 

“Did the doctors say anything about a prosthetic?” 

“Yes. They’ll go over everything with a prosthetist. K-level, sizing, the prosthetic itself, physical therapy, they’ll figure it out.” 

“And in the meantime?” 

“In the meantime, you take it easy and heal up. I’m sure that with your healing factor, you’ll be good in no time.” 

Peter breathed in and out. He could work with this. 

“One step at a time, Pete,” Rhodey said gently. “You’ll be okay.” 

Peter looked over at him and nodded. 

One step at a time. 

When Peter went back home, it was to a shaky Pepper. 

For the first ten minutes he was home, all she did was hug him. It was difficult, seeing as he was in a wheelchair but she made it work. With Morgan in his lap and Pepper at his side, he told her everything she didn’t know yet. 

“I’ll be fine,” he told her. “You’ll see, I’ll be back at it in no time.” 

“I know,” Pepper replied, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “I know.” 

She didn’t have to say anything to let Peter know she was scared. He knew. He had seen it in Tony, in May too. The fear of the what-ifs and maybes. The fear of empty promises or simply ones he couldn’t keep.

The difference now was not between Pepper and Tony or Pepper and May but between Peter. Between who he was then and who he was now. Who he used to be was so eager to please, ready for action, there at any call from anyone. Who he used to be would be jumping at the chance to go, to move and get out there and did what he did best: help others. Who he was now, knew he had to take a step back. Who he was now was more aware. He didn’t have his mentor to show him the right way to go. He didn’t have May to go home to if something went wrong. Who he was now had Pepper and Morgan, Happy and Rhodey, Nebula and even Natasha to stay with. He lived in a world that had lost so much. He didn’t want to add to that number. 

So Peter held Morgan close and leaned against Pepper as she talked about what she and Morgan had gotten up to while he was gone. 

One step at a time. 

Peter healed quickly. His body still had to heal the other wounds he’d obtained from the drones, but all things considered, he healed quickly. 

He spent most of his time at home. He’d managed to get online versions of his classwork so he wouldn’t fall behind. “It keeps me busy,” Peter had explained when Pepper found out. 

She didn’t seem impressed by his drive. “You should be resting, Peter,” she told him. 

“I am!” he insisted, gesturing to his position on the couch. “I’m fine, I’m lying down; I’m drinking water, Pepper. It’s practically a miracle.” 

“You know what I mean,” she said patiently, coming to sit down near his foot. 

Peter dared to keep it up for a second longer before he sighed. “I’m fine, Pep,” he said. 

“Are you?” She studied him for a moment. “Peter, you lost your leg. This is a big change. I just… I don’t want to miss anything or skim over something that you need help with.” 

Peter sat forward, taking Pepper’s hand. “I…” he paused, going over his words carefully. “You’re right. This is a big change. But it’s not like this is where I stop. It’s not the end of the world. I just… took a detour and got a bit lost. I’ll be right back on the path in no time.” 

Peter squeezed her hand, receiving one from her back. “It’s not easy,” he admitted quietly. “It’s not. I hate all the struggling and having to rely on your guys so much. I feel like I’m… burdening you guys--” 

“You’re not.” Pepper was quick to interject, gripping his hand tightly. “Never. You are never a burden to us.” 

He smiled at her. “It’s hard,” he continued. “It’s confusing. I’m still a bit lost after that detour. I took a wrong turn somewhere down the line. But I’ll be back on the right soon enough. You guys are like my GPS; I won’t be lost for long with you guys. And some therapy, both physical and emotional.” 

Pepper chuckled. She opened her mouth to say something when Morgan screeched from her room. They both stared at each other before falling into laughter. “We have a pterodactyl in our midst,” Peter chortled. 

Pepper laughed again, getting up and walking to Morgan’s room. Peter followed, using his crutches. 

“She tried to walk while you were gone,” she said suddenly as she lifted Morgan from her crib. 

“Really?” he said, pleasantly surprised. “God, she’ll be running circles around us before we know it.” 

Pepper smiled, swaying gently as Morgan woke up. “Biba,” she called sleepily. She couldn’t say Peter, at least not fully, and so the nickname stuck. Peter loved it. 

“Hey, Morgs,” he said, almost under his breath. He leaned forward, letting her grab at his face. “Sorry, I can’t hold you right now. My hands are a little full.” 

“Uh,” she babbled. 

“See, I knew you’d understand,” he continued, smiling. “Don’t worry though. I’ll be able to hold you soon enough without having to sit down. Then we can go out and about. We’ll go dancing. You like the sound of that?” 

Morgan exclaimed, just making sounds before repeating, “Biba.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

It took Peter a month to fully heal, thanks to his healing factor. The next step was to get a prosthetic. 

Peter was in the labs when it came to him. He was just studying in there. He wasn’t really there for any purpose other than comfort. It made him feel closer to Tony. 

They hadn’t moved the bots too, so they kept him company. 

But it was there when it came to him. He was half studying and half researching prosthetics. The most he knew about it was from Ned’s mother, who lost her leg when she was still in the army. But he wanted to cover all his surfaces and learn as much as he could. 

And then he came across some of Tony’s old designs. It was a mistake really. He accidentally nudged the right button and some of his old blueprints appeared. 

He paused and stared. He had worked with Tony before. He had seen his blueprints before. Hell, he had helped with some of the blueprints before. But this felt different, like taking the cloth off of a marble statue that had been lost to the world. 

Tentatively, he sifted through the pages upon pages of designs. He didn’t really read them, just scanned them before dismissing them with a wave of his finger. But then he stopped. 

The blueprints before him, shining in that titular blue, were the ones for Rhodey’s leg braces.

Notes and numbers scattered across the hologram. Peter could practically feel Tony’s manic energy, his need to get these done and ready for Rhodey. 

Peter read over the notes and the designs. He read and re-read until he understood what everything meant. And then he looked down at his right thigh. 

He was still getting used to it. Sometimes he would wake up and almost forget about it. But then he would move and he’d remember. It was hard, he wouldn’t try and fool himself into believing it wasn’t. But he could work with this. 

And as Peter looked back up at the blueprints, he knew he could work with them too. 

The first prototype was a crapshoot. 

He worked with his prosthetist for the designs and functions. He reached out to colleagues at MIT.

But still, the first one was bad, to say the least. 

It worked. He could walk on it. But it hurt and it didn’t fit him right, nor did it do everything he needed it to. 

(There were two good things to come out of it. One: it was a start. Two: he took his first steps in the prosthetic with Morgan. 

She and Pepper were there for that session of physical therapy. Morgan was sitting on the ground, entertaining herself while Pepper was walking with him. He was using a walker to keep himself upright. It still hurt to put too much pressure on his stump.

Pepper was the one to catch it first. They were chatting as they walked back and forth around the room when she stopped, frozen. Peter followed suit, looking from her to what she was staring at. Morgan, who had tossed her stuffie away from her, was standing up. 

Peter, slowly, began walking over to Morgan. “Hey, Morgs,” he said, gaining the baby’s attention. “You feel like walking with me?” 

She let out a little grunt, wobbling on her feet. “Here,” he continued, “how about this? You walk a little and I walk a little. We’ll meet in the middle, yeah?” 

Morgan just stared at him before shifting on her feet. Peter lifted the walker, putting his body weight onto his feet. “Come on, kid, don’t leave me hanging.” 

Morgan grunted again. And then she moved forward. 

Left foot forward. Peter copied her action. “Come on, Morguna, you’re okay. Come here.” 

Right foot forward. Peter moved as well. “Come on, hun! Come here!” 

Left, then right, then left again. Peter followed, chuckling when they both wobbled in place. His right side hurt but it was worth because Morgan was smiling now. Big and bright. 

“Come on, just a little more and then you’re there,” he encouraged. He could be happy about the fact that the prosthetic was working later. Right now he was going to marvel at his baby sister walking for the first time. 

Morgan let out a small exclamation before moving the final steps. Peter dipped to his knees to catch her before she crashed into him or the ground. 

Peter wasted no time in picking her up and holding her close to his chest. “Oh look at you!” he cheered, pulling back to look at her. She was still smiling. “You are amazing! Absolutely amazing. Pepper,” he looked back at the woman, who was smiling, eyes suspiciously wet, “you have a genius kid. Someone call the masses, we’ve had a breakthrough and her name is Morgan!” 

Pepper chuckled, coming up behind him, crouching down. “I’ve got two genius kids,” she said warmly. That was new, referring to Peter as her kid. It had startled him the first time it happened but he got used to it. He often thought about May and Ben and Tony when it happened. May wasn’t his mom, she was his May, as Ben was his Ben, and Tony was his Tony. Pepper wasn’t his mother but she was his Pepper and he thought that was just as good. “Your prosthetic worked.” 

“I can make it better,” he told her. “Next step is to make it better.” He turned back to Morgan. “But for now, I’m gonna focus on how amazing Morgan is.”) 

He did as he said he would and went back to the drawing board. He went back to his prosthetist and his colleagues and continued working. He spent his time working, with his family, in physical therapy, at college. 

This was the next step for now. 

Peter was coming home for a weekend visit with a surprise. 

Mark XI of his prosthetic was working. It was comfortable and snug. It was functional far beyond what a standard prosthetic could do. 

(At some point during the weekend, Peter wanted to talk with Pepper about marketing the prototype with SI or giving funds to the company his prosthetist worked with to manufacture them. Once he got a solid build, a solid design, he wanted them to be available to as many people as possible.) 

The most he had to do now was fiddle with the charging system. With the robotics and tech in the prosthetic to make it worked the way he wanted, it tended to need to charge every ten hours. He’d work on it though, along with a cooling system to make sure nothing overheated. 

But he arrived home and silently entered the house. He shut the door and called into the house, “Pep! I’m home!” 

“Peter! Hun, hi!” Pepper called back as she came down the stairs. “Ah, give me one second. There’s a small communication problem at SI. You’d think that being full-grown adults, communication wouldn’t be too hard to figure out.” 

“I think it comes and goes,” Peter chuckled, swaying a little on his feet. A rush of giddiness raced through him. It was working. 

“Oh-kay,” Pepper sighed, drawing out the word as she rounded the corner with a tablet in hand. “Madam Secretary is upstairs with Happy right now. I think he’s ready to gouge his eyes out, they’ve been watching cartoons all day.” 

Pepper looked up from her tablet, up at Peter and stopped. 

She stared at Peter as he began to laugh. “Is it really that much of a shock?” he teased. “I told you I’d get it eventually. Say hello--” he held out his right leg, wiggling his foot, “--to Mark XI.” 

She shook her hair, shook off her surprise, then walked over to him and hugged him. “Careful,” he said, returning the action, smiling. “I’m still a little wobbly.” 

“Oh, Peter,” she mumbled, pulling back. 

“What?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing. 

“I’m just happy,” she told him, shrugging. “You remind me of him sometimes.” 

The air shifted. Peter breathed in and smiled, melancholy. It still hurt, it still wasn’t easy. But Peter felt comforted, knowing that he was helping others, that he was continuing Tony’s legacy. With Spider-Man, with the prosthetic. 

“You’re just standing here and,” Pepper shook her head, trying to find the words. “The way you hold yourself, I see him. When you’re with Morgan, I see him. When you’re working or studying. When you’re with Rhodey and Happy. I just. He would be so proud of you, Peter. May would be absolutely beside herself because of how proud she is of you.” Pepper grinned. “All of us, Peter. We’re all so proud of you. From the moment you came back with Nebula, we’ve been proud of you.” 

Peter’s smile was a little shaky this time but just as genuine. 

As Peter pulled her back in for a hug, he felt warm and safe and there would always be a hole in him where those who were gone used to fill but it just reminded him how loved he was and how much he loved in return. 

Chapter Text

Tony blinks and then he’s in the labs. 

It’s late. He’s working on something but he feels like there’s something more important to be working on. 

He searches all his files, all his blueprints but there’s nothing that catches his interest. It’s… odd. He feels like there should be something there, a special file that would flick on the lightbulb in his head. A file that makes him go, “Oh, right!” 

But there’s nothing and so he just… sits there and wonders and feels and grows continuously annoyed. 

There is something he’s forgetting. He doesn’t just forget things, at least not the things he had marked as important. And he knows it is important because he wouldn’t be agonizing over it if it wasn’t. 

It is important and he is forgetting it. 

He doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t like not understanding things, especially when he knows they were important.

He sits there and he taps his foot and he’s both worried and annoyed and he hates it. 

He should continue on the work in front of him but suddenly he can’t concentrate. 

He’s missing something, forgetting it and he doesn’t know what, other than it’s important and--

He straightens. 

This is familiar. That’s important too. 

This is familiar, he knows this feeling, he’s been missing something for a while now, hasn’t he? 

He just doesn’t know what. He doesn’t know what, only that it’s important and that he’s known this for a while.

He just forgot about that too. 

God, his memory must be going or something. 

He’s calm this time. 

(He knows there was another time when he wasn’t but he doesn’t remember that either.) 

But he’s calm and still annoyed and is still tapping his foot but he has something to focus on now. 

Tony goes to work.

And he finds nothing. 

Nothing that flicks on the lightbulb, nothing that gives him pause, nothing nothing nothing. 

It’s gonna drive him insane, he decides. If he doesn’t figure out what he’s forgetting, he’s going to go insane. 

He taps his finger and taps his foot and he’s just tapping, tapping, tapping. 

A year goes by in a second. He’s still in the lab, just a year older than before. 

He doesn’t notice the change.

He can’t think. 

Nothing’s working and he doesn’t understand why. 

He stands and paces. 

He doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t know what’s wrong. 

He doesn’t know anything. 

He---

Tony stops. 

There’s a little spider web in the corner of the room. 

There doesn’t seem to be a spider in it but the web is still intact. 

He can’t look away. 

Why can’t he look away? 

It was small and frail but it was there and it kept his attention and he didn’t know why. 

Tony forces himself to look away. And then he drudged to the door, turning off the lights, leaving behind the spider web. 

Chapter Text

Peter was twenty years old and wished he could say he was thriving. 

It wasn’t horrible, not really. College was good, he had friends and colleagues and all of his professors were so nice. He was constantly updating his prosthetic, updating the ones on the market. He had a family to go home to, a sister and Pepper to welcome him. He had Spider-Man duties to fulfill and Peter Parker ones too. So it wasn’t horrible.

It was just stressful. 

He lost sleep and forgot to eat oftentimes. He lived off of coffee and midnight snacks. He worked and worked and worked and worked. 

And so when he went home, doing his best not to fall doze off during that last twenty minutes of the drive, he was fully ready to relax and sleep for at least a full day. 

That wasn’t what happened. 

Peter arrived home to a quiet house. It was tense kind of quiet. Peter walked into the house, honing in on the heartbeats in the house. Morgan’s was soft, gentle and young but strong. Pepper’s was firm, doing its purpose with vigor. 

“Pep, Morgs! I’m home!” he called out, shutting the door behind him. 

It took two seconds before Peter heard the loud thumping of Morgan running down the stairs and into the living room where he stood. 

“Biba!” she cried, racing up to him and jumping in his arms. 

He picked her up with ease, holding her close. “Hey, Mongoose,” he said, smiling. “How are you? What’ve you been up to?” 

“Mumma and me drew a lot,” she told him. “But Mumma is talking to Unca Rhodey.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Peter hummed. “Let’s go say hi.” 

“M’kay.” 

Peter walked up the stairs, Morgan on his hip, and moved to Pepper’s room. She had her back to the door, biting her nail bedding at she talked on the phone. “Rhodey, they’re pretty set in coming over--I understand that, Rhodey. I don’t know what they want, all I know is that they want to talk to--” Pepper turned around, eyes widening when she saw the two standing there. “Peter!” 

He waved, Morgan copying him. 

“I’ll call you back, Rhodey,” she said quietly into the phone, ending the call, then walking towards them. 

“Sorry,” she apologized, wrapping them both in a hug. “I didn’t hear you.” When she pulled back, she looked nervous. It was a tad bizarre to see it so blatantly. Pepper was usually pretty good at keeping herself composed and calm. “Morgan, baby, can you go downstairs and get two juice pops for you and Peter?” 

“Before lunch?” Peter said teasingly, hoping to lighten the air. 

“It’s a special treat,” Pepper shrugged, distracted. 

Morgan nodded seriously, wriggling until Peter put her down. “Be back!” she cried as she rushed down the stairs. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked as soon as she was out of sight. 

“Natasha, Rogers, and a… friend of theirs are coming over,” Pepper explained, pressing a hand to her forehead. “They want to talk to you about quantum physics and something relating to it.” 

Peter arched an eyebrow. “That’s it?” he asked, tilting his head, leaning against the doorframe. “What else do they want?” 

Pepper licked her lips, sighing as she thought. Then, very quietly, she looked at him and told him, “They think they might have a way to reverse what Thanos did.” 

Peter was glad he was leaning against the doorframe because, without it, he surely would have fallen over. 

“What?” he gasped out. His mind was reeling. His heart was in his throat. 

“They didn’t say much, just that they wanted to talk to you about it,” Pepper reiterated, shaking her head. “I had the same reaction.” 

Peter looked away, eyes darting to the left. 

A chance to reverse everything. To get half of everyone back. To get May and Tony and Ned and MJ back. To change it all. It seemed so impossible, such a faraway idea. 

“You don’t have to talk to them.” 

Peter glanced back up. Pepper had stepped closer. “You don’t have to,” she repeated. “It’s up to you.” 

“I know,” he sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “I just… God, sorry. It threw me for a loop.” 

Pepper nodded. “Me too.” 

“When are they gonna be here?” he asked. 

“They called about fifteen minutes ago,” she told him, “so maybe another half an hour.” 

Peter nodded, breathing in. He could work with half an hour. “Okay,” he muttered. “Okay.” 

Morgan had perfect timing because it was soon after they heard the thumping of her feet coming back up the stairs. She came huffing up the stairs with two juice pops in hand. “Got ‘em!” she cheered, barreling into Peter’s legs. 

“Thanks, Morgs,” he said, smiling as he took his juice pop from her. He then looked back up at Pepper, who had softened at the sight of her daughter. “We’re gonna head to the waterfront.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “No swimming.” 

“Okay,” Morgan hummed, already attacking her juice pop. 

It was a blissful half an hour. Peter spent it all with Morgan, even after they finished their juice pops. He was wiping the juice off of her face when she said, “Can I ask a question?” 

“Go for it, kiddo,” he encouraged, tucking her wild hair behind her ears. 

“Where is my daddy?” 

Peter hunched over himself as though he were punched in the gut. He straightened quickly though to look at Morgan. She didn’t seem to notice his reaction. 

His mouth fell open, eyes wide. He blinked twice, let out an audible breath before biting his lip. “I…” he began. “Why... do you want to know?” 

“Mikey has a daddy,” she explained, kicking her legs back and forth. “Mimi has two! A daddy and a papa!” She held up two fingers for emphasis. “So where is my daddy?” 

Peter had to look away from her. It was something he had always noticed with fondness but now it just hurt; it hurt how similar her eyes were to Tony’s. 

It took a while before he was able to respond. He opened his mouth and closed it more than three times. Finally, he managed to say, “Your dad… his name was Tony. And he was the best. He meant a lot to me and Mumma.” 

“Where is he?” Morgan asked. She sounded so young. 

“He…” God, he was so out of his depth. “He had to leave, a long time ago.” 

“Where did he go?” 

“I… I don’t know. He, uh, he didn’t tell me. He didn’t want to go. But he had to.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know, kiddo. It… I think he got a little lost while he was away.” 

“Is he gonna come home?” 

Peter breathed in, gripping at his composure. He couldn’t cry in front of Morgan, not right now. “I… I think he wants to come home,” he told her quietly. “But I think he’s still a little lost. So we’ll just have to wait for a little bit.” 

Peter thought about Natasha and Steve and whoever their friend was. 

“ They think they might have a way to reverse what Thanos did .”

He dared to think of the what-ifs. What if they did have a way to reverse it all? What if it worked? What if it didn’t? What could happen? 

What if Morgan could grow up with her father? 

“Can we help him?” 

Morgan’s voice broke his train of thought. 

“Huh?” he mumbled dumbly, coming back to himself. 

“He lost,” she said, “can we help?” 

Peter looked back at her. She was looking up at him. She was so small. Peter sometimes wished she would stay like this. She was young and small and still didn’t know how harsh the world could be. He wanted it to stay that way. 

But he knew it wouldn’t. She would grow up to be an amazing, strong, beautiful human being who would change the world three times over. And he wouldn’t miss a second of it. 

He wondered if there was a chance Tony wouldn’t have to either. 

He pulled Morgan into his side, rubbing her arm. He leaned down and kissed the crown of her head. 

“I’m sure we can, Morgs.” 

Half an hour came and went and a minute later, a black car pulled into the driveway. 

Peter sent Morgan inside, telling her to go see Mumma before waiting on the porch. Natasha, Steve, and someone else piled out of the car. 

Peter clasped his hands behind his back. It had been a few months since he stood in front of a board of officials but it was second nature to him by now. Back straight, chin raised, eyes steady, feet firmly planted, hands out of the way. Showtime. 

“Pepper said you’d be swinging by,” he said conversationally, smiling pleasantly at the three of them. 

“How’s college treating you?” Natasha asked genuinely. 

“I’ve lost a good amount of sleep but it’s a part of the job. Pepper said you wanted to talk.” 

Steve nodded. “We think we have a way to change things,” he said. 

The third member of the party bounced on the balls of his feet, nervous, before moving forward, hand outstretched. “Hi, hello,” he said, buzzing with nervous energy. “I’m Scott, Scott Lang.” 

Ah. Peter knew him. “Ant-Man,” he replied, shaking Scott’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Again.” 

“Again?” Scott repeated. “Oh yeah, sorry, I don’t actually know you. Ms. Romanoff here just said that we should come to you.” 

“I’m Peter Parker,” he told Scott, dropping his hand. “I was apart of the fight at the airport in Germany.” 

“Good lord,” Scott gawked. “You’re only in college now, how old were you then?” 

“I don’t think that’s relevant,” Natasha dismissed, stepping forward. “Peter,” her voice was grave but it held something lighter Peter hadn’t heard from Natasha in a long time, “we need to talk.” 

Peter looked over at her. She was guarded and strong as always but that lighter something was still there. It shone in her eyes. Whatever their plan was, Natasha had hope for it. 

Peter cocked his head to the side and said, “Then let’s go sit down.” 

“Now we know what this sounds like,” Scott began after explaining everything. Truly everything. 

It was ridiculous. It was so far fetched, Peter had a hard time even listening for a moment more. Though that might’ve been the sleep deprivation. The most of could think about was how grateful he was that he took that advanced quantum physics class last semester. 

His disbelief must’ve shown on his face because Steve interjected, “After everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?” 

“Yes,” Peter answered bluntly. He rubbed his forehead, the blooming of a headache beginning. “Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck scale, which then triggers the Deutsch proposition.” He raised a finger at their confused expressions. “To put it simply, you’re not coming home.” 

“I did,” Scott insisted. 

“And I’m glad that you did,” Peter continued, unperturbed, “but it’s a billion in one chance. It was a cosmic fluke; pure luck. And now, what? You want to pull off some…” He didn’t even want to say it. 

“A-A time heist.” Scott was trying to preserve his pride. Peter thought he lost it the moment he decided to call this plan a “time heist.” 

“Right,” Peter sighed. He met all of their eyes. “I’m sorry but it’s a pipedream.” 

“The stones are in the past,” Scott pressed. “We can go back and get them.” 

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everyone back,” Natasha told him. 

“Or we’ll screw it up,” Peter reiterated. Peter realized that it wasn’t hope he saw in Natasha, in all three of them, it was desperation. 

“I don’t believe we would,” Steve said confidently. 

“I respect your optimism,” Peter replied, meeting his eyes. “But without a logical, tangible way for me to even begin thinking of a safe way to execute this ‘time heist,’ I think the most likely outcome is our collective death.” 

“Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel.” The insistence in Scott’s voice made Peter wince. “That means no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events--” 

“God, now I get why Tony said no more pop culture references,” Peter mumbled, placing his head in his hands. This was getting tedious. He looked up at Scott, eyebrow quirked. “Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back to the Future?” 

“No.” The redness in Scott’s cheek told Peter otherwise. 

“That’s not how quantum physics work,” Peter said, exasperated. Their hope was admirable, and Peter half wished he could emulate that hope too, but it just wasn’t logical. 

“Peter.” He looked to Natasha. “We have to take a stand.”

Peter thought about the last time he saw Tony. Smiling, turning to ash, pressing the arc reactor into his hand. 

“It’s a one-way ticket,” Tony had told him. They took a stand, cashed in that ticket, and they lost. 

“We did stand,” Peter said grimly. “And yet here we are.”

Scott moved closer to Peter, catching his eye. “I know you got a lot on the line,” he began. “But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did. And now,” Peter could feel Scott’s aggravation. The desperation had reached its tipping point. “Now we have a chance to bring her back--bring everyone back and you’re telling me that you won’t even…” 

“No,” Peter said. He did his best to ignore the way Natasha’s expression hardened. “I won’t even. I can’t. It’s not logical, it’s not possible. And even if it was, I have too much to risk.” 

If Peter were younger, he would feel selfish. He would hate himself for putting himself before everyone else. But Peter had learned much during the past three years. He had lost and gained much too. He had Pepper and Morgan and Rhodey and Happy and Nebula. He had people in his corner who he needed to protect. And it still hurt to turn Natasha, Steve, and Scott away, but it had to be done. What they were suggesting was dangerous and impossible. He couldn’t risk what he had on a pipedream. 

Scott opened his mouth to speak again when there was the thump, thump, thump of Morgan’s feet. She rounded the corner and quickly climbed into Peter’s lap. He wasted no time in scooping her up. “Mumma told me to come and save you,” she told him, snuggling close. 

“Good job,” he said, resting his chin on her shoulder, “I’m saved.” 

He looked back at the three. “I wish you guys had come to talk about anything else,” he told them. “You’re welcome to join us for lunch if you want. Just don’t talk shop.” 

“Peter,” Steve started. “I get it. I’m happy that you’ve found a family, I really am. But this is a second chance.” 

Peter thought about what he had lost and what he had gained. He couldn’t add to the number of loses. He couldn’t leave behind his family. He had survived and he made the most of it. He couldn’t risk it all. 

“This is my second chance,” Peter said, standing up with Morgan in his arms. “I can’t risk this.” 

He had nothing else to say. He began walking into the house, saying over his shoulder, “The table has enough room for three more if you want. If not, you can show yourselves out.” 

It was an hour after dinner and Peter couldn’t sleep. 

He had rolled out of bed a few minutes ago, using his crutches to get around while his leg charged, and was now cleaning the dishes in the sink. Anything to keep his mind busy. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Scott’s plan. It didn’t make any sense, he knew that. He knew that it was a gamble, a risk that for sure would never end well for them. 

But the idea of bringing everyone back… it stuck with him. 

They could bring back everyone. May, Tony, Ned, MJ, everyone. But at the cost of what? 

He sighed as he finished cleaning the dishes, tossing the shoulder onto his shoulder. He leaned against the sink, eyes bouncing from the ground to the open living room. He felt dazed as he adjusted his grip on his crutches and began to walk across the room to the mantle. 

Pepper had decorated it throughout the years. When Peter first came to live there, she had approached him, tentatively and quietly. She asked him if he wanted to put up some of the photos from his apartment. 

He hadn’t given her an answer until a week later. He helped her put them up. It hurt and he cried but it was something he felt like he needed to do. 

He stood in front of the mantle, eyes dancing from each photo. There was one of him, Rhodey and Happy at graduation. One of him, Pepper and Morgan after Morgan was born. One of him and Morgan, playing in the water. One of him and May at a carnival. One of him and Tony for the internship. One of him and Ned and MJ at a decathlon meet. One of him and Ben, posing in front of a rollercoaster. 

The people he loved, the people he lost. 

But there was a chance. 

They could bring everyone back. 

Peter picked up one of the photos. It had multiple images in it. One of Tony and Pepper, one of him and May, one of him and Ned and MJ. 

They could bring them back. Everyone. They just needed a fucking time machine. 

Peter scoffed out a laugh. It was ridiculous… 

But then again… since when had his life not been ridiculous? 

Peter gripped the frame, tapping his foot. 

They could bring everyone back. They could fix everything. Morgan could have her father. Pepper could have her husband. Peter could have May and Ned and MJ. Rhodey and Happy could have Tony and whoever else they lost during the battle. Hell, Gwen could have her father back and people like her could have their family and friends and lovers back. 

Peter looked away from the photo and towards the stairs to the garage. It had been his makeshift labs at home. Really it just was for design and visualizing. 

Maybe… well, he just needed a design. Just--maybe he needed something to see. Whether or not the machine works. If he could even make a machine. 

With those maybes running around his head, Peter began walking to the garage. 

“FRIDAY,” he called as he slowly walked down. The room brightened, the table in the center coloring it all blue. 

“Hello, Peter,” FRIDAY replied. 

“Hey, can you do something for me real quick?” he asked, coming to stand at the head of the table. He began fidgeting with the designs on the table already. 

“Of course. What do you need?” 

Peter cracked his knuckles and got to work.

It took Peter about fifteen minutes to get down to the last few pieces. 

“Give me the eigenvalue of a Mobius strip, inverted, please. That, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp. That’ll take a second.” He tapped his left crutch against the ground, watching the holograms fly and form. 

“Just a moment,” FRIDAY hummed. 

“And don’t worry if this doesn’t work,” he added, more for himself than for FRIDAY. “I’m just kinda…” 

Peter trailed off, watching the hologram shift. It beeped, glowed, shifted and then--

“Model rendered.” 

Peter acknowledged FRIDAY’s voice but his eyes were stuck on the little red icon to the left: MODEL SUCCESSFUL.  

A small breath escaped from his mouth. Peter dropped his left crutch as he pitched forward, leg giving out. He gripped the table to steady himself, eyes glued to the hologram. 

It worked. 

He had just… created a working time machine. 

“Shit,” he gasped. 

“Shit.” 

Peter turned around sharply.

Morgan was sitting on the bottom stair, little sneakers on. 

“Hey, little miss,” he said, blinking away his shock. “What are you doing up?”

“Shit,” Morgan repeated, giggling. 

Peter shook his head, saying, “No, no, you can’t say that. You’ll be fined 3,000 dollars if you say it. Mumma will take your juice pops.” He was only half-joking. 

“Why you up?” Morgan asked. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied. 

“One leg day?” she asked. It was what she had taken to calling the day Peter didn’t wear his prosthetic. 

“Just for tonight, it needs to be charged,” he said, glancing back at the design. He looked back to her. “Sorry, I got a lot on my mind.” 

“Was it juice pops?” Morgan tilted her head, grinning. She was too smart for her own good. 

But Peter couldn’t deny her anything, not even when he had just created a working time machine. 

“Yes, yes it was,” he said, bending down to grab his fallen crutch. “Come on, my treat.” 

Morgan smiled and followed after him as he rounded the corner to the freezer they had down in the garage. 

“FRIDAY,” he called over his shoulder. “Keep those designs safe, yeah?” 

“Of course,” the AI replied. 

“Come on, Mongoose,” Peter smiled, “let’s go get some juice pops.” 

After their juice pops were eaten and enjoyed, Peter brought Morgan back to bed.

“Tell me a story,” she said as he wiped her face with his sleeve. 

“Once upon a time, you went to bed,” he teased. 

“That’s a horrible story,” she told him. 

“Rude. What kind of story do you want to hear?” He shifted in the small bean bag he was sitting in. 

“Tell about my daddy.” 

Peter breathed in as steadily as he could. He bit his lip. “Well,” he began, “he was smart and fun and he liked to build things. He liked a lot of things, really. He liked music and coffee and movies. He really liked Mumma. He loved her.” 

“Did he love you?” Morgan asked, putting her hands under her head as she laid on her side. 

Peter smiled, remembering Tony’s message. “Yeah,” he said, “he really did.” 

“Why he go?” 

“He… he didn’t have a say. He had to leave because someone… made him.” 

“That’s mean.” 

Peter snorted. “Very.” He grabbed the popsicle sticks from her bedside table, grabbed his crutches, stood and said, “Now go to bed, missy.” 

Morgan snuggled into her covers but did not close her eyes. “Is he gonna come back?” she asked. 

Peter let out a chuckle despite himself. Morgan was so smart for someone so young. “I think he wants to,” he told her, “he’s just lost still.” 

He thought about the designs downstairs. 

“I think we might be able to help out though.” 

“Okay. I wanna see him.” Morgan curled into her covers. She smiled up at him. “I love you 3,000,” she told him.

Peter’s chest warmed. Many things had lived in his veins before, panic, confusion, anxiety, gentleness, but love had cemented itself there the day Morgan was born. It had yet to move. 

“3,000, where’d you learn that?” he murmured, a smile mushing his words together. 

“You said it,” she explained delightfully. 

Peter chuckled and leaned down, kissing her forehead. “I love you too, Morgs. Now sleep.” 

He stood, turned off the lights and walked out, shutting the door gently behind him. 

He walked to the kitchen to throw the popsicle sticks in the trash when he saw the living room light on. 

“Pep,” he said, startled to see her there. “What are you doing up?”

“Heard Morgan get up, figured I’d investigate,” she replied, looking up from the book she had in her hands. 

Peter tapped his foot. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to call Steve and tell him too. They could do it. 

But at what cost? 

“Why are you up?” she asked.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said dully. Then blurted out, “I figured it out.” 

Pepper blinked. “Figured what out?” 

“Time travel.” 

Pepper stalled. She sat up, pulling her legs closer to her body. “Wow,” she muttered, “that’s… amazing. And terrifying.” 

“It works. I mean, the model works, there are things I would tweak or add and all that but…” Peter trailed off, coming to sit next to her. “It works.” 

Pepper scooted closer to Peter, pressing her shoulder to his. They both stared at the floor, minds racing. “We’re lucky,” she said. “We were able to rebuild after it all.” 

“I know.” Peter’s mind was torn. He could help billions of people. But what would he have to sacrifice? 

“A lot of people couldn’t.” 

“I know.” 

Silence hung. 

“I can’t help everyone,” Peter whispered. It was something he had struggled to come to terms with. He had the power to help others but not all of them. No one person could help everyone. 

Pepper huffed a laugh. “Kinda seems like you can now,” she noted quietly. 

And she was right; she was always right. But Peter couldn’t stop thinking about what he had to give up. Because there was no way he wouldn’t have to make a sacrifice. 

“I could stop,” he said, even though, no, he really couldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself. “I could put a pin in it and just… stop.” 

Pepper chuckled fully this time. “You and Tony always had similarities between you two,” she began, “but the biggest one was that neither of you would stop. You saw a world that needed help and when you had the power to help, you did so without hesitation. May and I once went out for coffee just to rant about it.”

Peter snickered but sobered quickly. “I don’t know what could happen,” he said. “What if I just—put the model in a box and dropped in the lake? And then go to bed?” The words felt selfish, bitter as they left his mouth. 

Pepper could read him like an open book. She turned to him, waited until he turned as well. She studied him before smiling. It was sad, so unbelievably sad. She said, “But would you be able to rest?” 

They both knew the answer. 

The next morning, Peter cooked and ate breakfast with Morgan and Pepper before heading down to the labs again. 

He stared at the models, rubbing his stump as his leg finished unfolding from the charger. 

This could work. It would work. The model was set and ready. He just had to make it and use it. And it would all take a while but it would work and that was what mattered most. 

He stared and stared and stared. He wondered and wondered and wondered. He questioned and questioned and questioned. 

So many things could go wrong. So many things could go right. It was a tightrope walk. One move in the wrong direction and he’d fall. 

And if he fell, who would he bring down with him? 

Peter looked away, focusing on putting on his leg. 

He could do this. He could go to Steve and tell him and have him rally everyone else. He could fix everything. 

But what would cost him? 

He couldn’t lose what he had. He wouldn’t make it through the next day if he did. 

But maybe he wouldn’t have to sacrifice what he had. 

The thought made him perk up, momentarily distracted from his leg. 

Maybe he wouldn’t have to sacrifice those around him. Maybe he was sacrifice enough. 

He had nearly died trying to get back home. Maybe he had to die to bring everyone else back home. 

Peter swallowed, blinked, and then stood, shifting his weight from side to side. 

That was his job, wasn’t it? To protect and help others, no matter what? He could bring back everyone. Families would be reunited, lovers and friends and everyone else too. Pepper would have Tony. The rest of the Avengers would have their families back. Scott would have whoever he lost back. The world, the universe, would reform. 

Morgan could grow up with her father. 

If he took a stand, it would be his last. If they won, then there would be no need to stand again. If they lost, then Peter knew he wouldn’t be there; he wouldn’t have stopped until he gave every inch of himself to try and bring everyone home. 

But maybe, if he took a stand at all, it would truly be his last. He would sacrifice his life for others. Isn’t that what he risked every day? Isn’t that what being a hero was? To risk yourself for others, for the bigger picture? 

Peter shook his head. He had a model, a GPS to make, and a vague plan. He just needed to put it in motion. 

The next step was to start working. 

That was the next step. 

Peter would’ve made Tony proud and Pepper disappointed with his reckless driving.

He tore through the streets and to the Compound. Next step was in motion. 

Of course, it didn’t take him too long to get to the Compound. Upon arrival, he saw Steve standing outside the building, arms crossed. 

Peter bit his lip. Steve was desperate, as were the others. If they thought they had a lead, they were going to run with it. They were probably testing their theory with what they had. If Scott really had a way to go through the quantum realm safely (the term was used loosely), then it must’ve been faulty to a degree. Peter wondered how many times he had been turned into a child.

Peter parked in front of Steve. He got out and said nothing until he got to the trunk. He leaned against it and leveled Steve with a look. “Lemme guess,” he said, “you’re messing around with what you have and he turned into a baby.” 

“Among other things, yeah,” Steve sighed, eyes hard and weary. “What are you doing here?” 

You came to me, buddy, don’t get testy, Peter thought to himself. Instead, he said, “That’s the EPR paradox. Instead of pushing Scott through time, you’re more pushing time through Scott. It’s tricky. Dangerous.” And because he was nervous and a little touchy, he added, “Somebody shoulda cautioned you against it.” 

Peter could see how much strength it took Steve to not roll his eyes. “You did,” Steve relented. 

“Did I now?” Peter knew the bickering was pointless but old habits die hard; he needed to talk or he’d burst. “Oh well, then, thank God I’m here. But don’t worry Captain O’ Captain, I fixed it.” Peter pulled the device from his pocket, holding it up. “A fully functioning Time-Space GPS. Took a night or two to make but, hey. Can’t rush perfection.”

Steve nodded, staring at the device with renewed hope. Peter sighed, shifting his footing. “We got a shot at getting these stones,” Peter said. “But my priorities are clear, Cap: bring back everyone and keep what I got. I won’t settle for less.” 

Plus, he had promised Morgan he’d make cookies with her after he got back. He didn’t break his promises, especially not to Morgan. 

“I don’t think anyone else will either,” Steve told him. 

“Then we’re on the same page, good.” Peter moved to open the trunk, adding, “Not dying might be nice too.” 

“Sounds like a deal,” Steve said. He then held out his hand. 

Peter didn’t know Steve well. After everything in Germany, saying that their first meeting wasn’t flattering on either end of the situation was an understatement. It just naturally led them to not spending time together. But Peter knew that this was a deal Steve was making to him as much as he was making it to Tony. A deal to fix what Tony tried to save, to finish the job, to help others, to do whatever it took. 

Peter shook his hand. 

He then reached into the trunk and pulled out Steve’s shield. 

The man in front of him paused, hesitated. “Peter,” he muttered, unsure. 

“I don’t know what happened between you and Tony,” Peter interrupted. “It’s none of my business quite frankly. And I can’t speak for him. But I figured it would be best to set it aside. You two can dish it out once we get him back.” 

Peter stared at Steve, held out the shield, and dared him to call out the way his voice had wobbled. 

Steve met his gaze and took the shield. He slipped it onto his arm, taking a moment to greet the familiar weight and feel. He looked up at Peter, eyes grateful. “Thank you,” he said. 

“Don’t thank me until we fix all this,” Peter told him. He needed to begin working; this wasn’t his relationship to sort out. “What’s our headcount? Who’s here?” 

“We’re working on getting the others,” Steve said. Something about his voice suggested that “getting the others” was nearly as hard as time travel. 

Peter quirked an eyebrow but nodded. “I can work with that,” he admitted. “Speaking of which, let’s get started.” 

Everyone was there now and so the work began. 

It was trial and error, bicker and banter, sudden realizations and miscalculations. But at the end of the day, it worked. 

Clint Barton, Hawkeye himself, went back in time and brought back his son’s baseball glove. 

It worked. 

All they had to figure out was the when and where. 

And when they did, all they had to do was press a button. 

Peter felt sick. There was no turning back, there was no second chances or guesses. This was it. This was the endgame. 

Peter thought about the message he left for Pepper because of course, he left one for her. One for her, for Morgan, for Rhodey and Happy and Nebula and Gwen and his professors. For the people he worked with and everyone else. One for the world too because they’d want an explanation. 

He left one for Tony, May, MJ, and Ned too. Because they would be there even if Peter wasn’t. Peter would make sure of that. 

They all stood in front of the screens. Holograms of the stones and their locations glowed before them. Scott, Steve, Bruce, and Peter would take 2012 New York. Natasha, Clint, Rhodey, and Nebula would take 2014 Vormir and Morag. Rocket and Thor would take 2013 Asgard. 

This was it. No turning back now. 

They donned their new suits and headed for the machine. 

There was no turning back. 

They stood together, silent, waiting, hoping. 

It was now or never. 

Steve was the first to speak, the first to break the silence. 

“Three years ago,” he began, “we lost. All of us. We lost friends. We lost family… we lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have the chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. No mistakes. No do-overs... Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn’t mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight for our lives. And we’re gonna win.” 

Peter and Steve locked eyes, their deal present in both of their minds. 

“Whatever it takes,” Steve finished, looking to the rest. “Good luck.” 

They messed it up. 

They had one shot and they messed it up. 

Peter kicked the closest trash can, not bothering to look at the dent he’d left. 

Scott and Steve bickered, tensions high, but Peter paid them no mind. He had to think. There had to be a way to fix this. 

There was a next step; he just had to find it. 

His eyes flickered and locked onto Steve, then to his suit…

He had an idea. 

“Steve,” he barked. The man turned to face Peter. “I think I have an idea.” 

“What are you talking about?” Scott said, snappish. 

Peter didn’t respond to him, continuing, “Correct me if I’m wrong because if I am, we’re screwed; if my history lessons taught me anything, it was that Howard Stark had the Tesseract in 1970. Military installation. If my lessons are still holding true, then Hank Pym was working on some project at that same military installation.” 

Peter paused, heart racing. This could work; this could be the next step. “We need to head to New Jersey,” he told him. 

Steve studied him. Seconds ticked by. Peter didn’t want to waste another. 

Finally, Steve approached Scott, holding out the staff. “Take it back to the compound,” he instructed before turning back to Peter. “Are you sure?”

“I better be,” Peter said, already putting in the date. 

“Then let’s go.” 

New Jersey was strange, especially in 1970. 

Meeting Howard Stark was stranger, regardless of the time. 

Peter tugged on the collar of his dress shirt, resisting the urge to mess with the glasses too. He needed to relax, just a bit. He had a mission, a next step and he needed to complete it. 

He entered the storage facility, rushing to the right section. It took him no time at all to find the Tesseract. He took it from the container and into the briefcase he had snatched.

“Arnim, are you back here?” 

Peter snapped the case closed just as Howard Stark rounded the corner. 

“I’m looking for Dr. Zola. Have you seen him?” Howard asked, not bothering to introduce himself. 

“Uh, no, sir. Sorry,” Peter managed. His nails dug into the skin of his free palm. 

“Do I know you?” Howard questioned. Peter could tell he didn’t really care about the answer. 

“No, sir. I’m… a visitor from MIT.” Good enough. 

“Huh, MIT,” Howard hummed, eyebrow arched. “Do you have a name?”

“Tony--” smooth, “--Potts.” 

He held out his hand. He shouldn’t be wasting time right now. He needed to get back to Steve and get home. 

Howard shook his hand. “I’m Howard Stark,” he said, pride beaming from the words. 

“Nice to meet you.” Peter bit his tongue. Tony hadn’t opened up much about his childhood but he hadn’t exactly tried to cover up his disdain for his father. That gave Peter enough reason to be hesitant with the man. 

“You look a little green around the gills there, Potts,” Howard noted, gesturing to his neck. 

“Long hours,” Peter dismissed. 

“Wanna get some air?” 

“That would be swell, yes.” 

The two walked out of the storage unit and to the elevators. 

At least Peter had an interesting story to tell. 

The elevator was too stuffy. Not enough air, not enough room. 

Peter tapped his foot before blurting out, “So, flowers and sauerkraut. Big date tonight?” 

Howard scoffed a chuckle. “My wife’s expecting,” he said. 

Peter did his best not to stare. Holy shit. That was right. Tony hadn’t even been born yet. 

“And, uh… too much time in the office.” 

“Congratulations,” Peter said because what else was he supposed to say? 

“Thanks. Hold this, will ya?” Howard passed off the flowers and sauerkraut to adjust his tie. 

Peter grabbed them both, stuttering a small, “Yeah, sure.” 

He cleared his throat. “How far along is she?” he asked. Anything to keep the silence from coming back. 

“I don’t know.” Jackass, Peter thought. “She’s at the point where she can’t stand the sound of my chewing. Guess I’ll be eating dinner in the pantry again.” 

He turned to face Peter fully. “Do you have any kids?” he asked conversationally. 

Peter chuckled breathlessly. “No, God, no,” he said. “I, uh, want to help people before I settle down… but my baby sister is just three, so… it’s similar in a way.” 

“A girl would be nice,” Howard admitted. “Less of a chance she’d end up like me.” 

Peter breathed in heavily. “What’d be so awful about that?” he managed to say. Tony was nothing like Howard. He just didn’t want to stop the talking; he’d go insane with nerves if it did. 

“Let’s just say that the greater good has rarely outweighed my own self-inserts,” Howard explained. 

Peter scoffed quietly. He pursed his lips as the elevator came to a stop, doors opening.

“So, uh, where are you with names?” he asked as they walked out. 

“Well, if it’s a boy, my wife likes Almanzo,” Howard told him.

Peter stifled a laugh. He wondered if Tony knew he had almost been Almanzo. “Might want to stew on that,” he replied. “You got time.” 

Howard paused. He stopped and turned to Peter. “Let me ask you a question,” he said, studying Peter. “When your sister was born… were you nervous?” 

Peter remembered late nights with Pepper, helping her with everything she needed. Peter remembered learning how to take care of Morgan, learning how to raise a child. 

“Wildly,” he said honestly. “It’s just my Mom and I, so it was hectic at times.” Peter hoped Howard hadn’t noticed the way his voice had shaken. Even for the guise, it was somewhat startling to refer to Pepper as his mother. 

“Did you feel qualified? Like you had any idea how to successfully operate that thing?” Howard continued. 

“I pieced it together along the way,” Peter told him, shrugging. “I wanted her to have stability. It was something I never really got growing up. Something always came in to shake it all up. But I can look at the bright side of things…” Peter tapped his fingers against the briefcase. “Someone once told me, though, ‘No amount of money ever bought a second of time.’” 

It was something Tony had said. It wasn’t entirely out of his usual, weirdly wise advice but the way he said it had carried a certain edge. It stayed with Peter.

“Smart guy.” Howard pursed his lips. 

“He was pretty good,” Peter said, smiling sadly. 

“Let me tell you.” Howard pointed a finger vaguely. “That kid’s not even here yet, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.” 

Peter blinked, hoping his expression wasn’t as awkward as he felt. 

He licked his lips, tilting his head. “Just love the kid,” he said. Referring to Tony as a kid left Peter fidgeting. Tony would kick his ass for it if he were there. “The rest will fall into place.” 

Howard considered him, head cocked to the side. “Maybe it will,” he said quietly before nodding. “Good to meet you, Potts.” 

“You too, sir,” Peter replied, shaking his outstretched hand. 

Howard took the flowers and food back and walked off to a car. There was a man holding the door open for him. Peter didn’t bother trying to identify him, instead rushing to a safe corner, clutching the briefcase tightly. 

They were back in the game. 

Steve and Peter met back up, counted to three, and then pressed the button to get back home. 

Peter closed his eyes and when he opened them, he was standing at the machine with the rest in the same position they had all left in. 

Peter deactivated the suit, taking a step forward with the briefcase. “Did we get them all?” he questioned, looking to them all. 

The pause of disbelief was enough. “You’re telling me this’ll work?” Rhodey said breathlessly. 

Peter’s lips were beginning to upturn when a thumping stopped it. 

He looked to his left to see Natasha, on her knees, head lung low, clutching her stomach. 

“Nat?” He rushed to her, falling before her. He grabbed her shoulder gently, trying to get her to look up. “Nat, what’s wrong?” 

She didn’t reply. 

“Nat,” Bruce said from behind them. “Where’s Clint?” 

No response. And yet, instead, Natasha began to cry. 

Her body began to tremble as she curled further into herself, arms tightening around her waist. 

That was answer enough. 

Peter was frozen. He didn’t know what to do. Natasha had boundaries and she had made them all abundantly clear. This was one of them. They didn’t acknowledge their pain when they were together. If the tears welled, they would dance. It was their way of venting together. 

But they weren’t dancing; they couldn’t dance because they had to fix the fucking world. 

But this was different. Natasha had told him, hushed and vulnerable and strong, how Clint had been the only one to give her a chance. He had saved her life and she worked to prove that he hadn’t made the wrong choice. 

(“I owe him,” she had said as they laid on the dance studio floor. The lights were off, the sun streaming through the windows. “Everything. I owe him everything. I’m not about to make him regret it.” 

“I don’t think he’ll ever regret it,” Peter said but didn’t speak more. There wasn’t much he could say. It wasn’t his story to add to.

“Can’t be too careful.”) 

And now Clint was gone. 

Peter threw the boundaries out the window. They couldn’t dance, they couldn’t waste another minute. 

But Peter told himself that he wasn’t wasting time, not when it stood still as he held Natasha as she cried.

Natasha, Steve, Bruce, and Thor stood on the pier at the back of the Compound. 

Peter walked to them, a glass of ice water in hand. He knew the cold was Natasha’s preferred form of comfort. Teas, coffees, she saved those for happier moments. 

He sat beside her, offering the water. She took it silently but never drank from it. She held the cup in one hand and gripped Peter’s wrist with the other, finger on his pulse. Peter kept his hand on her arm, gentle and warm. 

He cleared his throat, hating to break the silence, break their grief. “Did he have any family?” he asked. “Anyone still here?” 

“Us.” Natasha’s voice was clipped, quiet, choked. 

Peter regretted asking. 

“What?” Thor suddenly asked. He seemed dazed almost. 

Peter looked to Steve and Bruce, not understanding. They didn’t seem to understand either. 

“Why are you acting like he’s dead?” Thor demanded. Peter blinked and deflated. He recognized that kind of grief. Denying and ignoring the reality was easier than facing it. “We have the stones, right? As long as we have the stones, we can bring him back; isn’t that right? So stop this-this shit . We’re the Avengers, get it together.” 

“Thor,” Bruce began softly, moving forward. 

“We can’t get him back.” 

Everyone looked at Natasha. Her grip on Peter’s wrist was slowly tightening, becoming bruising. Peter made no move to remove her. 

“Wha-what?” Thor stuttered, trying for a smile. Peter recognized that too. If you pretend hard enough, if you tried hard enough, maybe it would all change. 

“It can’t be undone,” Natasha rasped out, never once looking up. “It can’t.” 

Thor stared at her before laughing dryly. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but you’re a very earthly being, okay? We’re talking about space magic. And ‘can’t’ seems very definitive, don’t you think?” 

“He still isn’t here, is he?” Natasha’s voice was brutally emotionless. 

“That’s my point--” Thor began but Natasha was quick to continue. 

“It can’t be undone,” she ground out. “That’s what I was told. If you want to go hear that for yourself, why don’t you grab your hammer and head to that fucking planet?” 

Her grip on the cup was shaking, white-knuckled. 

“It was supposed to be me,” she whispered, unmoving. “He sacrificed his life for that goddamn stone. He bet his life on it .” 

The glass in her hand shattered under the pressure of his grip. She didn’t flinch. 

“He’s not coming back,” Bruce said quietly. “We have to make it worth it. We have to.” 

Peter’s eyes went to Steve. He had yet to speak. But he straightened and looked around at them all. 

Steve breathed in and steeled himself. “We will,” he said. 

Peter believed him. 

They had all the stones. They had finished the gauntlet to wield them. Now they just needed to snap their fingers. 

Bruce held the gauntlet in his hands. Everyone suited up. Natasha stood to his left with Steve. Thor and Rocket were to his right, and Bruce right in front of them all. 

It didn’t occur to Peter until later that Nebula wasn’t there.

Peter watched Bruce as the nanotech crawled up, stopping at his neck. He shifted his weight, almost grateful for the bite of pain his prosthetic was causing him. Any other day, he would’ve taken it off by now but that wasn’t an option now. It was fine though. The pain grounded him. 

He still felt sick to his stomach. 

This was it. Everyone was going to be brought back. 

He breathed in and thought of everyone he had lost. He looked around at everyone he still had. 

“Good to go?” he asked quietly. It was hard to speak above a murmur now. The silence felt sacred, fragile. 

“Let’s do it,” Bruce said. 

“Remember,” Peter warned, voice hard and edged. “Everyone Thanos snapped away three years ago and just bringing them back to now, today. Change nothing from the past three years.” 

It was a precaution as much as it was a selfish wish. He wasn’t about to lose what he had gained. It was too important. 

Bruce nodded. “Got it.” 

It seemed that everyone breathed in at once. 

This was it. 

“FRIDAY,” Peter said, mask coming to form fully over his face, “do me a favor and activate Protocol 8.” 

“Yes, Peter,” FRIDAY crooned. 

The Compound went into lockdown seconds later. 

This was it. 

Bruce looked to them all. “Everybody comes home,” he insisted. 

And then, he slipped on the gauntlet. 

Light streamed from the gauntlet and up to his arm, traveling up his neck and face. Immediately, he fell to his knees, grunting in pain. 

“Take it off!” Thor cried. “Take it off!” 

Steve held out a hand though. “No, wait!” he said. “Bruce, are you okay?” 

Bruce didn’t respond, blinded by the pain. Burns raced up his arms. 

“Talk to me, Banner,” Peter barked, additional legs extending from his suit. 

Bruce gasped out, struggling against the power. “I’m-I’m okay,” he managed to choke out. 

It was clear that he wasn’t. His eyes squeezed shut as his grunts became screams. 

They couldn’t do anything but watch. 

Bruce writhed and strained against the power of the stones. But then, he raised his hand and pressed his fingers together and snapped. 

For a moment, all Peter could see was white. His heart hammered in his chest, beating up into his throat. 

The white quickly receded and soon, Peter saw Bruce’s eyes roll back into his head as he collapsed, gauntlet falling from his hand. 

They all rushed to him, kneeling down. Natasha kicked the gauntlet away. 

“Don’t move him,” Peter instructed, changing the settings on his web-shooters to a cool sealant, spraying it down Bruce’s arm. It would keep the burns from getting worse. 

Bruce gripped Thor’s hand. “Did it work?” he rasped out, breathing heavily. 

“Worth a shot,” Thor said. “It’s over. It’s okay.” 

Peter desperately wanted to believe him. 

Scott moved away from the rest, walking to the windows leading to the garden. Peter looked after him. “Scott?” he called. 

“Birds,” the man whispered. “I can hear birds.” 

It was true. Peter listened and heard the familiar song of a chickadee. Not just a chickadee, though, he heard so many birds singing. He hadn’t heard anything like that in three years. 

Suddenly, a phone on the table to his right began ringing. 

Natasha stood and walked to it. She picked it up and nearly dropped it. “It’s Laura,” she said, hushed. 

It was Clint’s wife. She had been dusted three years ago. 

Peter’s jaw fell open as he gasped out a breath. 

It had worked. 

They brought everyone back; the people, the animals, every living being was back. 

“Guys,” Scott said from the window. The cheer in his voice was palpable. “I think it worked!” 

Peter looked around at everyone. They had done it. 

Peter smiled, bright and full-fledged. 

And then the Compound blew up. 

Confronting Thanos was just as terrifying now as it was when Peter was sixteen. 

No amount of years would change the terror he felt see the monster who murdered his family and trillions of others. 

It didn’t matter that Thanos in his timeline was dead. He was there now, alive. 

But not for much longer if Peter had any say in it. 

Peter, Thor, and Steve all walked to the seated titan. They stopped and stood and watched and waited. 

“You could not live with your own failure,” Thanos stated, voice booming and calm. “And where did that bring you? Back to me. I thought eliminating half of life, the other half would thrive. But you’ve shown me that’s impossible. And as long as there are those that remember what was, there will always be those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist.” 

“We’re all kinds of stubborn,” Peter dared to say. He was going to be sick. 

“I’m thankful,” Thanos continued. “Because now, I know what I must do.” He stood to his full height. Peter bit back a flinch. “I will shred this universe down to its last atom.” He put on his helmet. “And then… with the stones you’ve collected for me, create a new one. Teeming with life, but knows not what it has lost but only what it has been given. A grateful universe.” 

“Born of blood,” Steve said. 

You can’t reason with a mad man, Steve, Peter thought. 

“They’ll never know it,” Thanos dismissed. “Because you won’t be alive to tell them.” 

Peter had heard enough. 

Not a second later, he threw himself at the titan, ready for the fight of his life. 

Peter was down in the dirt, struggling to get up. It had been a while since he had gone toe to toe with someone as strong as Thanos. 

He staggered to his feet, wincing as pain coursed through his body. 

“In all my years of conquest,” Thanos boomed, facing Steve. “Violence… slaughter… It was never personal. But I’ll tell you now… what I’m about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet… I’m going to enjoy it. Very, very much.” 

Peter leaned against some debris, catching his breath. 

If he took a stand, it would be his last.  

The thought hit him suddenly. It had just been speculation then. It had been desperation, a last-ditch effort. If worse came to worse, it would be his last stand. 

But now, face to face with Thanos? Peter knew it wasn’t just speculation. It wasn’t just a thought. 

If it meant he could save the world, save his family, save the ones he lost and the ones he gained, then he would die. 

Whatever it took. 

Peter had nearly died trying to get home. He had no say in it. 

Peter now knew that he would die trying to save his home. It was entirely his decision. 

Peter stood and began walking forward, watching as ships descended from the sky, as armies piled out in the thousands, as monsters flew out. 

They were hopelessly outnumbered. 

And still, Peter stood and he stumbled towards Steve, ready and willing and--

Distantly, the sound of Steve’s comms went off.

He paused. He saw Steve do the same. 

“Cap, you hear me?” 

It was faint. Peter didn’t recognize the voice but it was clear that Steve did. 

“Cap, it’s Sam. Can you hear me?” 

A crackling sound came from Peter’s left. He turned, adrenaline rushing through his system and stared. 

The sparks of a portal were forming. 

“On your left.” 

The portal opened fully and three people walked out. 

Peter recognized Okoye but the other two, Peter had only seen in pictures. King T’Challa and Princess Shuri walked beside Okoye. 

And then hundreds upon hundreds of portals opened. On the ground, in the sky, golden sparks appeared and opened. 

Suddenly people began to pile out. People from the ground, people in the sky, people with magic and spears and swords and bows. People of Earth, people of space. They came and marched out and shouted and prepared. Their own army came and stood their ground. 

Peter’s own comms crackled. 

“Pete,” Pepper’s voice rang through. “I’m here. We’re all here.” 

Peter dared to smile as he watched her come through a portal. 

“Do you see him?” she asked. 

“Not yet,” he replied, staring at the portals. He switched the comms, saying to Karen, “The moment you get a ping from him, Karen, you send him Mark XII. You have five seconds to get it to him.” 

“Of course, Peter,” she replied. He disregarded the info on his screens. Karen would do her job. 

Pepper landed beside him, faceplate lifting. “Are you alright?” she asked. 

“Fine,” he said, eyes still glued to the armies forming around him. “Let’s kick his ass.” 

Pepper’s smirk was nothing short of predatory, a bearing of her teeth. “Let’s.” 

Peter flinched and turned when the ground began to shake. He stared and a laugh escaped him as he watched Scott, now a giant, breeching from the debris of the Compound. He could barely make out Rhodey, Rocket, and Bruce in his hand. 

He turned to face Thanos’ army. He felt the cries and shouts of their own army. 

This was it. This was the endgame. 

Whatever it takes, he told himself, extending his legs from his suit again. He flicked his wrists inward, activating the new stingers he had added. “Karen,” he said again, quietly, “activate Instant Kill Mode. You know the targets.” 

Peter watched as the blue screens went red. He felt it was fitting. 

“ Avengers! ” Steve yelled from Peter’s right. 

The world stopped spinning in the silence. 

“ Assemble! ” 

That was all it took. 

The armies charged. 

It was all a blur. Peter didn’t think, he just fought. 

He worked and worked and worked and worked. 

His mind processed nothing other than who was going to attack him and who he was going to attack. 

Pain was disregarded, exhaustion was disregarded. Nothing made it through his mind. 

And then--

“Peter! I have him!” 

Pepper’s cry broke his concentration. He was hit, thrown to the ground, but it didn’t matter. He rolled to his feet, jumped, and stabbed the monster in the neck. “Is he okay?” Peter demanded as he leaped away from the body. “Does he have a suit? Is it working?” 

“He’s okay, suit’s working just fine,” Pepper assured him, grunting as she continued to fight. 

The relief Peter felt nearly knocked him over but he regained focus soon after. “Good,” he gritted out, jumping onto the back of some creature. 

The fight continued. Peter couldn’t tell the monster in front of him from that last. It didn’t matter. He had to keep going. 

A flash of red and gold drew his attention elsewhere. 

Tony. 

Peter wasted no time racing to man, who was crawling back, underneath some creature. 

Peter attached a web to the creature, pulled it back and onto his stinger. He pushed the creature away and ran over to Tony, eyes watching the area around them for any threats. 

Tony was struggling to stand up. Peter quickly helped him, placing his hands on his back and shoulder. 

God, Tony was here. It wasn’t just a dream or a hologram. He was here, Peter could touch him. He was here and alive and breathing. 

“Hey, Tony,” he said, voice shaking. 

Tony’s helmet retracted. His eyes were glossy and his face was ever so slightly gaunt but he was here and alive. 

Peter’s own mask retracted. He stared at the man in front of him, in marvel and awe. 

All his hard work, all those three years of mourning and learning and growing and helping, all of that had paid off. Because Tony was standing right in front of him and Peter knew that May and MJ and Ned were out there too. 

His family was okay. It was all going to be okay. 

“You okay?” he managed to say, a smile reaching his lips, wobbling. “Be a while, huh?” 

Tony cocked his head to the side, mouth opening to speak. No words came out until a second later. “You-You’re taller,” he spluttered. 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “A couple of inches.” 

“You’re not allowed to be taller,” Tony insisted. Peter could sense that something wasn’t sitting right with Tony. Wherever Tony had been for three years, it clearly had changed him. “It’s not allowed. Who told you you could be taller? ‘Cause I sure didn’t; Pepper better not have. That would be rude of her--” 

Peter didn’t bother responding. Instead, he reached for Tony and hugged him. 

Tony was quick to reciprocate the action. Peter closed his eyes and savored every beat of Tony’s heart. 

The moment was shattered when an explosion hit a few feet from them. Tony pushed Peter behind him and activated his shield, covering the two of them from debris. 

“It’s not over yet,” Tony said, looking around them before looking back to Peter. 

“Far from it,” Peter responded, nodding. “Let’s go.” 

Their helmets formed back over their faces in unison. “Stay safe,” Tony ordered. 

“You too.” 

It was hard to turn away and launch back into the fight but it had to be done. 

Next step, next step, next step. That was all he needed to focus on. 

“Steve!” Natasha called over the comms. “What the hell do you want me to do with this damn gauntlet?” 

“Get those stones as far away as possible!” Steve demanded. 

Bruce was quick to cut in. “No!” he cried. “We need to get them back to where they came from.” 

Peter used Scott’s arm to swing over closer to Steve. “No way to get them back,” he reminded them, dodging a hit. “Thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel.” 

“Hold on!” Scott’s voice rang through. “That wasn’t our only time machine.” 

In the distance, Peter suddenly heard a car horn go off. He nearly chuckled. Of course. They had been desperate and had used something to begin testing time travel before Peter came up with a true model. Peter had it in him to admire the resilience of the first model. 

“Anyone see an ugly, brown van up there?” Steve called to those in the sky. 

A woman on a pegasus--which, holy shit --flew overhead and yelled down, “Yes! But you’re not going to like where it’s parked.”  

“How long do you need to get the thing up and running?” Peter asked, out of breath from running. 

“Maybe ten minutes,” Scott answered. 

“Get it started,” Steve instructed. “We’ll get the stones to you.” 

Peter continued his battle, trying to catch his breath. They couldn’t last forever. They needed to get the upper hand soon or things would go downhill quick. 

Peter sprinted, doing his best to follow T’Challa, who now had the gauntlet. He was close enough that he could jump in if needed. 

The opportunity came soon. T’Challa struggled against the rocks surrounding him, raised by the past version of the alien Peter and Tony had fought trying to save Dr. Strange. 

“Over here!” he yelled, attaching a web to the ship up above. He propelled himself forward and, as T’Challa threw the gauntlet up, grabbed it and raced off. 

The prick at the base of the neck was more like a stab now. He didn’t need it though to know he was being chased after. 

He was surrounded by creatures soon. His extra legs and stingers weren’t enough. “A little help here!” he grunted into the comms, jumping into the air for some leverage. 

“Peter!” Steve answered. “Heads up!” 

Peter heard the hammer flying through the air. It was on pure instinct that made his shoot up at the right time. He was torn from the ground and up into the air. He hoped the hammer would guide him to Scott and the van. 

His ride was cut short as a beam of energy came down, cutting his web from the hammer. 

He fell, grip loosening on the gauntlet, searching wildly for something to attach to. 

“I got you, hun!” 

Pepper . 

She grabbed his arm just he snatched the gauntlet back. 

She tossed him into the air and towards the woman with the pegasus. He landed as carefully as he could, not wanting to hurt the animal. 

“Cool pegasus,” he managed to say before they abruptly dived to the side. The ship above them was rapidly reigning fire. 

The woman did her best to guide her pegasus out of the line of fire but eventually, a beam got too close for comfort. Peter was thrown off the pegasus by the resounding blast. 

He fell to the ground, extra legs largely breaking his fall. 

He stood and made to run on foot when another blast hit the ground in front of him. 

He landed on a rock, side flaring in pain. 

Peter clung to the gauntlet as he curled into himself, desperately trying to guard his body against the onslaught of firing from above. 

When he was able to peek his head out from his arms, he was met with chaos. 

People fighting. People winning. People losing. People running. People falling. 

“ NO! ” 

Peter flinched as Scott screamed. 

“What! What happened, Scott!” he yelled, panic choking him. 

“Th-The van! It’s gone! They-The beam hit it! It’s gone!” 

Peter was going to throw up. 

No. No, no, no, no. 

That-That was they’re only shot. 

They couldn’t… they… 

Peter looked around him, watched as their army fell and rose and fought and died. 

The boom from the sky was enough to make him look up. 

The beams stopped. The ship in the sky was exploding. 

Peter saw the familiar colors of Carol Danvers’ glow. 

It won’t be enough, his mind told him, even as the ship failed and fell into the water. We have no quantum tunnel. We’re losing. It won’t be enough. 

“Peter, where are you?” Pepper asked, breaking through his thoughts. “We’ll come up with something else. Where are you?” 

Peter didn’t answer. The world around him, for one small, impossible moment, did not exist. 

He stared down at the gauntlet in his hands. 

He could end it. Right there, right now. 

All of it, it would all stop. 

No more fighting. No more dying. No more anything. 

He could end it now. 

If he took a stand, it would be his last. 

He would sacrifice his life for others. 

Isn’t that what being a hero was? 

To risk yourself for others, for the bigger picture? 

Whatever it takes. 

“Peter! Where are you!” 

Tony. 

He had saved Tony. Pepper had her husband back. Morgan had her father. 

Everyone was back. 

That was the plan. That had been the next step. 

And now? What was the next step now? 

It was to finish this. It was to bring it all to an end. 

And Peter had the power to do that. It was sitting right in the palms of his hands. 

The world came back into focus. 

“I see him!” Nebula said over the comms, startling him. Peter hadn’t heard from her since Bruce used the gauntlet. “Peter, move!” 

Peter did not move. 

He stared at the gauntlet and trembled. 

Whatever it takes. 

He reached for the gauntlet, gripping it, raised it to his left hand and--

He was hit from the side, launched into dirt and debris. 

He lost the gauntlet. 

Peter stood and froze. 

Thanos was standing there, expression murderous. In his hand was the gauntlet. 

Peter wasted no time throwing himself at the titan. He stabbed Thanos’ hand, breaking the stinger off so that it stayed there. His body was torn off of Thanos, thrown again into the ground. 

Thanos ripped out the stinger and then placed the gauntlet onto his hand. 

Peter hadn’t forgotten Thanos’ threat. 

“I will tear this universe down to its last atom.” 

“ NO !” Peter screamed, rushing to the titan. 

He barely knew what he was doing, barely recognized who was yelling at him in his ear. 

All he knew was that he could stop this. He just needed the stones. 

He crawled onto Thanos, using a web to choke the monster. The intact stinger reformed into extra bulk on his left hand. He reached and grabbed and hoped and--

He was torn off again and into the ground, giant hand around his chest and throat. 

He struggled, clawing at Thanos’ hand. 

He was so close, he just needed to get away for one second, that was all he needed, one second. 

Thanos was suddenly pushed to the side. 

Peter immediately scrambled back, chest heaving.

“I told you to move,” Nebula barked. Peter blinked, realizing she had been the one to save him. 

She did not wait for him, instead rushing Thanos again, screaming all the way. Carol Danvers, Pepper, Wanda, and a few others all joined her in the fight. 

Peter moved onto his knees, grasping his left hand. 

The stones were there. 

He had the stones.  

All he needed to do was let them settle and then snap his fingers. 

He could end it all. 

Peter breathed in, shaking. 

He would end it all. Now. 

Peter let the nanotech grab the stones. Peter could already feel the heat emanating from each of them. 

Peter breathed out. 

The stones fell into place. 

To call it pain was an understatement. 

The power of the stones coursing through his body wasn’t just pain. It stretched to every inch of his body, flaring and throbbing with power. It never stopped, never dulled. It was agony. 

Peter didn’t scream though. His throat closed, his vocal cords froze. He didn’t scream because he couldn’t. 

But he could raise his head. And so he did. 

Carol was holding Thanos down. She had forced him onto his knees. The others were surrounding the two of them, ready to strike. 

It was then that Nebula looked up and away from Thanos. She looked directly at Peter. 

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. It was the most expressive she had looked since Peter met her. 

He couldn’t hear anything, but he saw her mouth his name. 

It didn’t matter. 

He needed to focus. 

What was the next step? 

The next step was to focus on ridding the world, this one and the next and the next and the next, of Thanos. 

Him and his followers. The terror they brought, the sorrow and pain and destruction and death. All of it needed to end. 

He could fix everything. 

He could fix the world they lived in. He could make it better. 

He could make everything better. 

But then his eyes shifted to Pepper. 

She was staring at Nebula, confused. Her eyes too then drifted over to Peter. 

They widened. They grew glassy. Pepper was scared. That was clear as day. 

Peter blinked and knew that it doesn’t work that way. He couldn’t fix everything without ruining something else. 

That was what Thanos had tried to do. 

He tried to make a grateful universe by stripping it of half its people. 

Peter knew first hand that nothing had been fixed, just rebuilt over three years. 

Peter wasn’t Thanos. He wouldn’t make the same mistake. 

Pepper mouthed his name. Peter could feel the panic coming off her in waves. Or maybe that was just the stones. 

Peter saw her move away from Thanos, beginning towards him, momentarily drawing Wanda’s attention from the titan. 

That was all he needed. 

Thanos reared up, sending the others off to the side. 

Thanos stood and stared at Peter. He gave no attention to Pepper. 

Good, Peter thought. 

Thanos stared at Peter. Peter met his eyes unflinchingly. 

“You will never touch another planet,” he found himself saying. He couldn’t hear himself speaking. Just the vibrations from his throat. The ground was vibrating too. “You lost. ”

The gleam in the titan’s eye showed Peter that he knew that. 

And with that, Peter raised his hand, pressed his fingers together, and--  

Chapter Text

White. 

Everything was white. 

Somewhere down the line, Peter supposed he had formed a habit of waking up to white. 

Not his fault, just circumstances. 

But this was different. 

The whiteness burrowed into his skin, into his veins, into his head. 

It lived in him. 

It burned. Burned like nothing ever had before. 

Peter thought losing his leg had been painful. That was nothing compared to the pain he felt now. 

It buried under every inch of his skin; it burned and boiled and scorched. It tore through his body like electricity. 

Peter could feel his mind disconnecting, floating away from his body. The pain was too much to handle, too much to process. 

His mind floated and it was white and it was painful but Peter knew he had done what was needed and that was all that mattered and--

His mind snapped back into his body. 

The world went from white nothing to colored everything. 

Peter gasped. He breathed. 

There was someone holding him. 

Someone familiar and warm. Peter couldn’t see them. Everything was blurred together. 

But he knew them. He knew that he knew them.

There was someone holding him but there was also a hand cradling his head, hands on his shoulder, hands on his back, his knees, his neck, his waist, his legs. 

And the pain lessened. 

White in his veins bled into the hands touching him. 

Peter blinked. He saw. 

Around him, the ground was dark, brown and black and red. 

The sky was pink and orange and red. 

The air was littered with grey dust. 

The people around him were far too many to count. 

Pepper was the one holding him. Tony was on his other side, hand threaded in his hair. Natasha was behind him, hand on his shoulder. Rhodey was behind him too, hand on his back. 

There were so many people around him, a handful of them touching him. But then people were holding onto those people. A chain connection was formed. 

It took Peter a minute to realize what happened. 

They were sharing the power. He had snapped his fingers. And they shared the burst of power. 

And it had worked. 

Peter spoke. He heard. 

“Oh.” 

That was all that escaped his mouth. But it was enough to catch Pepper’s attention. 

“Peter?” she gasped, pulling back but never letting go. She looked and saw his open eyes. She pulled him in again. “Peter! Oh God! Oh, thank God. Peter, oh Peter.” 

Peter moved his head, turning to look at Pepper best he could. “Hey,” he said lamely, voice weary and ragged. “Did it work?” 

He needed to know. The dust in the air should’ve been enough to convince him. And yet, he still asked. 

“Yes, yes, it worked,” she said hurriedly. “Your stupid, stupid plan worked, you stupid, stupid boy.” 

“I’m twenty, Pep.” 

“Exactly.” 

Peter turned his head to Tony. The man had tears in his eyes. 

“Hi,” he said. “You okay?” 

Tony looked at him, blinked, then leaned forward, pressing his lips to the crown of Peter’s head. “God, you really are stupid,” he murmured thickly into Peter’s hair. 

Peter breathed and straightened. It hurt, it hurt so fucking much, but he needed to see.

He straightened and looked behind him, Pepper and Tony keeping him upright. 

Natasha and Rhodey were there. Carol, Wanda, Nebula, Rocket, Steve, T’Challa, Bruce, they were all close enough to make out. There were so many others behind him. People he knew, recognized at least, and people he knew nothing of. 

Peter blinked. 

It was over. 

It had worked.  

They had won. 

“Is it...” he whispered in disbelief. 

Someone in the crowd had a stronger voice than his, calling out, “Is it over?” 

Peter saw the crowd shift as someone stood up. Thor stood to his full height, looking every piece a warrior he was. He surveyed the land, surveyed the people, and boomed, “We won.” 

The relief, the lightness in his voice made Peter’s chest lurch. 

“We won,” someone repeated. 

“We won,” laughed another. 

We won, we won, we won, we won. It echoed and bloomed and suddenly it went from whispers to laughs, to sobs, to cheers, to cries, a full cacophony of noise and wonder and relief and happiness. 

And then people began to rise and run to one another, embracing in hugs that sent the parties to the ground with the force of them. People rushing to the ones they lost, people rushing to their fellow fighters. People embracing the ones right next to them, regardless if they knew them or not. 

People were laughing, people were crying, people were cheering and yelling and jumping. 

People were celebrating, people were mourning, people were living. 

We won, we won, we won, we won. 

Peter watched and stared, felt tears well in his eyes, and then he laughed. 

It was quiet and it rattled in his chest, but it was a laugh nonetheless. 

Tony and Pepper turned to him, eyebrows furrowed together. 

He shrugged at their silent question, letting the tears fall from his eyes. 

“May’s gonna kill me,” he finally said. “And MJ and Ned are gonna help her.” 

“Count me in,” Tony said, shuffling closer. 

“Morgan and I will pitch in.” Pepper tightened her grip on him. 

“Morgan?” Tony asked. 

And, oh, right. 

Pepper and Peter looked at one another, a million questions passing between the two of them. In the end, though, Peter just looked back to Tony, smiled, and said, “You’re gonna love her.” 

It wasn’t until hours later that they left to heal up. 

All three of them stayed to help lead and section off the jobs. They needed to find all the injured. They needed to count the dead. They needed to figure out the exact amount of damage had been done to the Compound and the surrounding environment. They needed to do a lot of things. 

Peter would’ve stayed for as long as necessary if it hadn’t been for his leg. 

He had handed over the gauntlet and the stones to Dr. Strange when it happened. He managed to get a good look at his newly burned, already healing, left hand when his leg began seizing. 

He winced but pushed it aside. He had work to do. 

Pepper caught the expression. “What’s wrong?” she asked immediately. 

“Leg,” he said, “it’s fine.” 

“Phantom or something new?” 

“Probably both. I don’t usually have it on for this long. Nor do I go and fight for the world with it on.”

“We should leave then. They can take it from here.” 

“Pep--” 

“You’re not arguing with me on this, Pete. Let’s go. Strange!” 

“Pep--” 

“What’s going on?” 

Tony walked over from Steve. He had barely been ten feet away but he rushed over all the same, expression tight and nervous. “Nothing,” Peter dismissed at the same time Pepper said, “Peter needs to be patched up.” 

Peter looked at Pepper. “We all do,” he countered. “I’m fine, okay?” 

Pepper raised an eyebrow. “Can you stand?” she asked. 

Peter bit the inside of his cheek. He probably couldn’t, not with the spasms or the pain from everything else. 

“Then we’re leaving,” she amended, looking ever so slightly smug. She looked up and called, “Strange!” 

The doctor in question came over, eyebrow quirked in a silent question. “Can you get us a portal to Elis Hospital?” 

Strange nodded as he raised his hands, the beginning of a portal already appearing behind them. “Come on, Pete,” Pepper murmured, helping him to his feet. 

He turned his back and limped towards the portal, the gleaming light blue walls of the hospital on the other side. 

Peter was taken into a separate room to be patched up. The snap had taken a toll on his body that couldn’t be repaired with a stitch or bandaid. He needed to rest. 

And so rest he did. 

He slept for a day straight, nestled in the cool, calm hands of unconsciousness. 

Tony slept too. So did Pepper. 

They all rested and knew that when they woke up, their family would be right beside them.

Peter woke up to white walls. 

Four white walls and white covers and a white pillow and a white ceiling. 

Peter breathed in and out and forced himself to sit up. 

“Wow, hey, easy there.” 

Peter blinked and looked over. 

It was Tony. Tony, here, alive, breathing, holding his right arm, smiling with concern written all over his face. 

Tony squeezed his arm gently, pulling his seat closer to the bed. “Easy, kid,” he said as he sat down. His hand never left Peter’s arm. 

Peter stared and breathed and marveled. Tony was there and he was breathing and warm and he had a few bruises on his face, along with a butterfly bandage on his forehead, but he was okay. 

“You’re…” Peter muttered breathlessly. 

“Yep,” Tony replied, sitting down but never taking his eyes off of Peter. 

“You… you should be resting,” Peter managed to say. 

“So should you,” Tony retorted, “and so~” 

Tony used his free hand to gently push Peter back, forcing him to lie down. Peter went with it in a daze, his mind reeling. 

They stared at each other for a moment, taking in the new features. Peter no longer had much of his baby fat, his face far more angular than Tony must’ve remembered. Tony had grey hair and his crows feet were prominent even with his relaxed features. 

Peter grabbed Tony’s hand, holding it tightly. He had no words. Nothing to capture the relief, the happiness, the weight that was slowly leaving his chest, at the sight of him. 

Tony smiled. Peter found it easy to mirror the expression. “Hi,” Tony said quietly. 

“Hi,” Peter repeated, letting the tears fall. 

“Miss me?” Tony teased, blatantly pretending his voice didn’t shake. 

“Always.” 

“Good, you were supposed to; as your boss, it was written in the contract that you should mourn for at least two weeks, although four is encouraged,” Tony told him, elbows resting on the bed.

“Of course,” Peter nodded, wiping away his tears. It was hard to do it, with his arm all bandaged up and healing. 

“When did you wake up?” Peter asked. 

“A few hours ago,” Tony shrugged. “It’s nearly three in the morning. Pepper is grabbing coffee from the lunchroom.” 

“Should you be drinking coffee yet?” Peter asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Oh, it’s not for me,” Tony explained. “Pepper already told me she’s not giving me coffee for another month.” 

Peter chuckled. “Can’t feed the gremlin after midnight, huh?” he chortled, continuing to laugh at Tony’s expression. 

“I could fire you right now,” Tony said, head tilted. “I could fire you and send you out, young man.” 

“No, you couldn’t,” Peter smirked. 

“Is that a challenge?” 

“Nope, just a fact. Pepper’s my boss, not you.” 

Tony used his free hand to flick Peter in the cheek. Peter snorted, smiling so much it hurt. Peter didn’t mind in the least. 

The door opened. 

Peter looked up. His smile widened impossibly when he saw Pepper, coffee in hand. 

She froze when she saw Peter sitting up, reclined back. She blinked, breathed in, stomped over, tossed the coffee haphazardly onto the side table, and enveloped Peter in a hug. 

Peter wasted no time in returning the action, regardless of how much it hurt. He felt Tony join them, Pepper making room for him. For a while they just stayed there, surrounded by each other. 

“You’re an idiot,” Pepper said into the silence. “You’re such an idiot.” 

“Not that it isn’t applicable to both of us, but who are you talking about?” Tony asked. They all pulled back, Pepper and Tony sitting down by Peter’s leg. 

“Both of you,” Pepper said, gripping Peter’s free hand as gently as she could. “But I was specifically referring to Peter.” 

“That’s fair,” Peter agreed. 

“You’re never allowed to do that again,” Pepper told him seriously, leveling him with a stare. 

“I don’t plan on it.” 

Pepper raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. She held his gaze, eyes sharp and focused. “I mean it,” she said lowly. “We need you, Peter. We can’t lose you.” 

I can’t lose you, not after everything, was left unsaid but heard just as clearly. 

Peter squeezed her hand. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “I just got everyone back--” he reached over and grasped Tony’s hand again, who held back tightly, “--and I’d like to be here for the celebration. Plus, I promised Morgan I’d make cookies with her once I got back.” 

Peter knew Tony thought he was smooth but the tension that suddenly appeared in his shoulder was too blatant not to notice. Peter studied him, the tense line of his shoulders, the small indent created from him biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Have you seen her?” he asked quietly. 

“A photo, yeah,” Tony replied. “A couple of videos too. Pepper has too much blackmail material on you, she had to show it to me.” 

His voice was flat though. Dazed and somehow dully frantic. 

“And?” Peter said, squeezing his hand. 

Tony bounced his legs a few times before hanging his head and chuckling, almost to himself. He looked back up and over at Peter. He smiled. “I can’t wait to meet her,” he said, voice shaking. 

“She’ll love you,” Peter told him calmly, “I know she will.” 

Tony squeezed his hand twice, a silent thank you. 

Silence fell. They all just sat there, taking in what they had done. 

The question was on the tip of his tongue but fear held it in place. He knew it had worked, Tony was there, whole and breathing, why shouldn’t the rest? But the what-ifs flew around his head. Old miserable thoughts came back with a vengeance, taunting and yelling at him in his mind that May, MJ, and Ned weren’t back, they weren’t back because he didn’t deserve to have them. 

But Tony was there and Tony was fine and so why not the rest? 

Peter breathed in and said, “Wha-what about May? An-And MJ and Ned?” 

Pepper nodded, saying, “They’re fine, safe. Happy grabbed them a few hours ago but he drove them back at midnight. They’ll be back by the morning.” 

“They-They’re okay, though, right?” Peter didn’t know what he’d do with himself if they weren’t. 

“They’re okay, Peter,” Pepper assured him, holding his gaze. 

Peter forced out a breathe, nodding his head. 

God, they had won. It had worked and everyone was back and Thanos was dead and it had worked. 

Maybe it was the hospital environment, maybe it was the need to continue to work, maybe it was old habits; but his mind supplied him with the question: What next? What’s the next step?

This, he replied, this is it. The next step is my family, the ones right here and the ones I’ll see soon. This is the next step; there will never be another step other than this. 

He blinked and his vision blurred, clouded by tears. He laughed. They had won, it had worked. Peter could rest, Tony could rest, Pepper could rest; they could all rest. 

He felt Pepper’s free hand cup his cheek, wiping away the tears. When he looked up, Pepper was smiling and he knew she understood. Everything they had rebuilt, it could now be shared with the people they lost, the people they got back. 

Peter closed his eyes, leaned back, and smiled. 

Peter managed to fall asleep for another two hours before he grew antsy. 

“Peter, you can’t just get up and about right now,” Pepper said when he told her he wanted to move. “You still need to heal.” 

“I am healing!” Peter insisted, glancing at the door when Tony walked in. “Tony, back me up!” 

“Nope,” Tony said as he came to sit down on the bed, popping the “p”. 

“Traitor,” Peter grumbled. “I’m fine, I just want to get out of the bed.” 

“And onto your feet,” Pepper said, “which you shouldn’t be doing for a few weeks.” 

“I didn’t hurt my leg though.” 

“You hurt your everything else, Pete.” 

Peter might’ve been twenty but the pout on his face aged him a few years back. 

“Compromise,” Tony offered. “Use a wheelchair and you can run circles around us.” 

“Shouldn’t you be resting up too?” Peter asked, head turning to him. 

“Eh.” 

Peter grabbed the empty water bottle on the bedside table and tossed it at Tony, who squawked when it hit him. 

But Peter sighed and lolled his head back. “Fine,” he groaned. “I just want to move.” 

“Then let me grab the wheelchair,” Pepper said, waiting for him to respond. 

Peter nodded. 

A few minutes later, Peter was out in the hall, in a wheelchair, Tony and Pepper flanking him on either side. Peter did his best not to shift when Tony stared at his stump. He knew it was something Tony was still processing. 

They went to the courtyard in the center of the hospital, a small garden with an open ceiling. They sat there and chatted. It was the most normal thing Peter had done in a while. 

And then the door opened. 

All three whirled around, instinct buzzing. Peter knew it wasn’t a threat, he felt no prick at the base of his neck. But considering what he had just been through, Peter told himself that the sudden adrenaline breathing in his veins was justified. 

But then he froze. 

May, MJ, and Ned stood in the doorway. 

Peter stared. They stared. And then Peter lurched forward, thrusting himself onto his one leg. Pepper caught him before he could fall. 

And then May rushed forward, a blur of color before she collided into Peter, arms wrapping around him in a second. 

Peter knew he had never moved faster than when he brought his arms up to return the hug. 

He couldn’t say anything, he was incorrigible. He just sobbed, three years of pain rising and finally boiling over. May was here, she was alive and breathing and she was carding her fingers through his hair, whispering to him. 

And then MJ and Ned joined, arms coming to surround the two of them. 

“Hey, loser,” MJ whispered, tears evident in her voice. “Miss us?” 

“More than anything,” he gasped out, focusing with all he had on their heartbeats. “God, more than anything, MJ.” 

MJ burrowed in closer. 

Peter closed his eyes and listened to their heartbeats, felt their warmth, the proof of their life.

It would be okay, he knew. His family was there and whole and breathing. It would all be okay.

Peter was released from the hospital two days later. 

He had strict instructions from the doctor to rest as much as he could. Peter could work with that. He could help organize cleanups, upgrade hospitals, plan funerals even when he was resting. 

May, MJ, and Ned all came to the cabin with him, Tony, and Pepper. Morgan was being watched by Rhodey when they got there. Peter was practically buzzing with excitement. Not only did he want to see his baby sister, but he had a few people he needed to introduce her to. 

The ramp had barely stretched out before Peter was out and wheeling himself towards the door. “Peter! You hurt yourself, you won’t get to eat any of the cookies you make with Morgan!” Pepper called after him, mirth in her voice telling him she was only half-joking. 

“Got it!” Peter was preoccupied. He wheeled himself onto the porch and towards the back. He could hear Morgan and Rhodey talking close to the lake. 

He rounded the corner, heard a small gasp, the thump, thump, thump of someone’s feet and--

“BIBA!” 

Morgan jumped up and into the wheelchair, throwing her arms around his neck. The collision hurt but Peter ignored it and wrapped his arms around her, burrowing his face in the small crook of her shoulder and neck. 

“Hey, Morguna,” he murmured, squeezing back when she squeezed him, “sorry I was gone for so long.” 

“We makin’ cookies soon?” she asked. 

He chuckled, pulling his face away to smile at Rhodey. The man looked relieved, walking over and clasping a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he said, pulling back. Morgan smiled at him, big and bright. “But first, there are a few people I want you to meet.” 

“Okay,” she said quietly, nodding. 

Peter moved into the house, Morgan still in his lap, asking about where he was, what did he do, who she was meeting, what kind of cookies they should make. Rhodey trailed behind them, sharing looks with Peter when Morgan started asking if they could make blueberry, chocolate chip, strawberry cookies. 

Peter moved into the living room where he heard everyone softly talking. “Madam Secretary is arriving,” he called before he rounded the corner. 

The chatter quieted when the three of them came in. Pepper was the first to move, rushing forward to pick up and hold her daughter. 

“Mumma!” Morgan cheered, patting Pepper’s shoulders in excitement. “Biba and me are gon’ make cookies.” 

“You’ll have to make a lot,” Pepper told her. “We have guests. And someone very special you need to meet.” 

Peter tore his eyes from the two and over to Tony. 

He had never seen the man more torn between wonder and fear. 

“Who?” Morgan said. 

Peter cleared his throat and said quietly to MJ, Ned, and May, “Let’s give them some privacy.” 

They all nodded and stood, following Peter as he led them out to the back porch. 

They stopped near the stairs, MJ and Ned sitting down to flank his right and left, while May stayed standing close behind them. 

“We’ve missed a lot,” May said softly, looking down at Peter. 

“Three years,” Peter agreed, shrugging. It wasn’t like it was their fault. 

“Start from the beginning,” MJ told him, poking his thigh with her finger. “Tell us everything.” 

“Don’t leave out a thing,” Ned added, trying for a smile. 

Peter looked at them all, his family. He nodded, opened his mouth, and began. 

True to his word, Peter made cookies with Morgan. MJ, Ned, and Tony helped too, with May and Pepper hanging in the back, smirking at them all. 

“Morgan, babe,” Peter said, turning his wheelchair to face the little girl rummaging in the fridge, “we can’t put strawberries in the cookies.” 

“But I wanna,” Morgan pouted, holding a box of strawberries. 

“We can do that later,” he promised appeasingly. “Let’s make something edible for now.” 

The pout stayed on her face but she toddled back over without the strawberries. 

“What’s wrong with strawberry cookies?” Tony asked, looking over at the two of them. 

“You’re the taste tester,” Peter told him, wincing. 

Morgan seemed delighted at the idea though, beaming up at Tony and saying, “Yeah, Dad, you’re the taze tesser!” 

Tony froze before relaxing minutely. Peter didn’t blame him. Peter had been shocked the first time Morgan referred to him as Biba; he couldn’t imagine what it was like being called Dad. 

Tony recovered quickly though, returning Morgan’s smile. “I’m sure they’ll be great, kid,” he said but the look in his eyes suggested otherwise. 

Peter chuckled quietly to himself. He looked around for another bowl (two had already been used; Morgan wanted to make enough for a whole army and then some, it seemed) but couldn’t find one. He stood on his one leg to reach up towards the cabinet above. 

He heard an intake of breath before, “Peter.” 

He turned, steadying himself with a hand on his wheelchair. “Yeah?” he said to Pepper. 

Looking unimpressed, she stood and came over to him, reaching up and grabbing the bowl. She placed it on the counter before turning to him and saying, “Sit down.” 

“Aw, come on, Pep,” Peter groaned, but sat down nonetheless. “I’m fine, I still have one working leg.” 

“Yes, but a healing everything else,” she said. “Don’t stand up again, okay? Or I’ll sicc Morgan on you.” 

“Huh?” Morgan called from her place on the counter. Tony had lifted her up and onto it. 

“Mumma’s gonna have you attack me if I stand up again,” Peter explained, looking over to her with a grin on his face. 

“Why?” 

“Because she thinks I’m breaking the rules.” 

“That’s bad!” 

Peter snorted. “Very.” 

Pepper nudged him, making him look back up. “Go, relax. Let me get a turn with these two gremlins,” she said, smirking. 

“That’s offensive!” Tony cried with a mouth full of chocolate chips, pointing at her. “We’re at least goblins.” 

“Yeah, gomlims!” Morgan shouted, beaming as she stirred the batter. 

They all chuckled. Peter moved out of the kitchen, going to stay beside May. He didn’t say anything, just leaned over the best he could to rest his head on her shoulder. She tossed an arm around his shoulder, keeping him close and warm. 

His family was all there. It was okay. 

Peter breathed easily for the first time in years. 

“You two seem close,” May noted suddenly, going for a casual tone. Peter could still hear the strain underneath. 

“Who?” Peter asked, mind waking up from the relaxation. 

“You and Pepper,” May said quietly, rubbing circles into Peter’s shoulder with her thumb. It was relaxing for her as much as it was for Peter. 

“We are,” he answered carefully. He needed more than that to begin working at whatever is plaguing May. 

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but--I don’t know. Do you… love her? Like you know, you two are close. Like we were--are,” May explained. 

Ah. Peter understood now. He nodded and looked up at her. “I do,” he replied, “and I love you.” 

“I never said you didn’t,” May defended, looking a bit sheepish. 

“No, but it’s still true. I love her and I love you. I can love you both. You two mean a lot to me.” 

May looked him over, taking in the changes that three years had made. “I just,” she started. “You seemed to do fine without me. And that’s good! I wanted you to continue, to go on. I just… I don’t know. Three years is so long, Peter. And, I don’t know. Maybe I thought you didn’t need me anymore or—“ 

Peter cut her off there. He turned to face her fully, squirmed out of her grip, and grabbed her hands. “I don’t care how old I am,” he said firmly, “I will always need you. I will always love you. No amount of time, spent together or apart, will change that. Hear me, Parker?” 

May chuckled wetly. “Loud and clear,” she said shakily. She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him. He reciprocated the action fully. 

The funeral for Clint Barton was small, one of a million happening that day. 

Peter stood beside Natasha as Laura Barton spoke out to the rest. He wished he wasn’t using his crutches that day, wanting to reach out to Natasha, to at least grab the corner of her sleeve. She had yet to say a word, had yet to move, had yet to blink more than three times. 

The service was over; Peter couldn’t tell how long it had lasted. He hadn’t been close to Barton, knew him vaguely through Natasha and what he saw on TV about the Invasion of New York when he was a child. But the sorrow in the air was palpable, rolling off of Natasha, Laura, the Avengers, everyone in the crowd, in waves. 

Peter almost felt guilty for not knowing the man. It was clear that he meant a lot to a lot of people. 

He followed Natasha silently as she walked from the graveyard, through the church, and to the lake edge across the street. 

He offered her no words. She wouldn’t have accepted the comfort anyway. 

“What now?” she asked suddenly, voice harsh and grated. 

He didn’t turn to her, just look out at the water. He understood her question, her need to do something more. “Now,” he started slowly, bumping his shoulder against hers. “Now you watch over his family. They need you just as much as you need them. And then we go from there.” 

Natasha didn’t reply immediately. Peter saw her eyes dart from the water, down to the ground in front of her. “How?” she asked. 

It was a broad question, vague and wide. She could have meant a million different things. But Peter knew her as well as she let him. How do I take care of his family when I couldn’t take care of him? she was asking. 

Peter smiled weakly, finally looking at her, taking in the red-rimmed eyes, pale complexion, the feeling of being utterly lost that surrounded her. “Didn’t you say you Cooper and Lila were asking to be taught ballet?” he asked. 

She was silent. And then she looked up, back to the water, and then to him. “Yes, they were,” she said. 

“Know any good studios around?” he asked, wincing minutely when reminded of the destroyed Compound. They were still figuring out reconstruction plans. 

Natasha didn’t smile but something in her face loosened. It was a step forward and Peter knew she would take it. 

“A few,” she told him, tilting her head in consideration. “But none of them close.” 

“Then let’s start our own.” 

The look she gave him was as close to a laugh as he was going to get. “I’m serious,” he insisted, smiling stronger now. “Why not? It could be… The Barton Institute of Ballet.” 

Natasha’s expression dropped, guard back up. Peter didn’t take it back though. 

It was silent, the sound of the water moving in the wind filling it. 

Finally, though, Natasha breathed in. She nodded once, determination spreading throughout her as she straightened. 

“I like the sound of that.” 

It wasn’t an easy transition. God knows it wasn’t easy. 

May was staying at the cabin in the guest room. It made Peter more comfortable to know that all his family was close by, with MJ and Ned just a phone call and a swing away. 

But it wasn’t an easy transition. It reminded Peter of when he first came to live with Pepper. Nightmares were regular, training was constant, eating was sporadic. Peter and Pepper were getting used to having their families back, while May and Tony were getting used to having missed three years. 

It was late one night when the shift happened.

Peter was up and working, phantom pains keeping him awake when he heard rustling around in the kitchen. 

Part of him, rational and reasonable, assumed it was Morgan, up and wanting a midnight snack. Another part of him, paranoid and alert, went through all possible threats and how best to handle them. 

Peter grabbed his crutches and stood up, timing his breathing to keep himself calm. 

He made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. He only relaxed when he saw Tony’s silhouette near the sink. “Tony,” he called softly. 

The man in question turned his head but his body stayed still. “Hey, Pete,” he said, voice rough. His shoulders were tense, his overall body language telling Peter something was off. 

“Everything alright?” Peter asked, coming to stand behind him, far away enough to give him space but close enough to grab him in case something happened. 

“Yeah, fine, fine, just… nightmare.” 

Peter nodded. Nightmares were nothing new, not to anyone in that house. “Want to talk about it?” he asked, leaning his hip against the counter. 

“No, no, it’s fine, I just… I’m fine, kid, you don’t need to worry about me,” Tony insisted. 

Peter watched him, watched the slow, measured rise and fall of his shoulders, watched the slight tremble that shook his body. Peter moved away and turned on the lamplight near the couch before sitting down, crutches placed beside him. “Come sit down,” he said. 

“Huh?” Tony hummed, still standing with his back to Peter. 

“Come sit down. We don’t have to talk, just come sit.” 

There was a beat of silence before Tony moved. It was slow, like he was battling with himself as to whether or not he should do it. Finally, though, Tony sat down on the couch, guard up, mask on. 

Peter didn’t have an extra three years to study Tony Stark’s masks but he knew him well enough to know it when he saw it. He just smiled tiredly at Tony. “Hi,” he said quietly. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony replied, meeting his eyes. 

“Long night?” he asked. 

“Long night,” Tony agreed. 

The silence hung and then--

“I forgot you.” 

Peter blinked. “Huh?” he said, eyebrows scrunched together. 

“I forgot you,” Tony barrelled on, voice frantic. “I remember where I was when--you know. And everything there was perfect; I had Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, everyone. It was perfect and great and just good--but I forgot you. It was always in the back of my mind; there’s something missing, it was a thought I couldn’t shake and I didn’t know why or how I knew I was missing something but I was. I forgot you, you weren’t there and I couldn’t remember you and--” 

“Tony, hey.” Peter reached out, grabbing Tony’s hand. “Easy, breathe.” 

Tony gulped, breathed in, and then out. Peter timed his breathing to match Tony’s. “There you go,” he muttered. 

“Sorry,” Tony said. Peter had a feeling he wasn’t apologizing for the ranting. 

“Tony,” he started calmly, “that isn’t your fault. You didn’t have a choice in leaving. You’re here now and you remember me now. That’s all that matters.” 

Tony watched him, looking for an inkling of… something. Peter made sure his expression was nothing but open. If Tony needed to dissect it, then Peter would let him at it. 

“God,” Tony groaned, “therapists are going to be the best-paid workers in the world, mark my words. I’ll make sure they are after all this bullshit.” 

Peter snorted. He would allow the deflection to pass for now. 

“It’s a lot,” Tony admitted quietly. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to come back, let alone three years later and to a not-kid who I remembered as a kid, and a kid who didn’t exist when I left.”

Peter nodded. “I’m sure it was a lot to take it,” he sympathized. “But you’ll get used to it. Morgan’s an easy kid to work with.” 

Tony smiled weakly, the weakness of it being more of a product of his tiredness, not of his enthusiasm for Morgan. “She’s… amazing, ” he marveled. 

“She is.” No one would ever be able to convince any of them otherwise. 

They both paused for a minute, Tony picking back up, saying, “Tell me. Why are you up?” 

“Phantom pains,” Peter replied, shrugging. 

Tony blanched. “Right,” he said slowly, blinking before shaking his head. “Sorry, that’s another change I’m getting used to.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter said. “It’s fine.” 

“You’ll have to let me attack some of your designs, kid. I’m sure they need some sprucing up.” 

“You think you can do better?” 

“Is that a challenge?” 

They both laughed, the air around them light. 

“You bet your ass it is,” Tony jested. 

“Bring it on, old man.” 

Tony reached behind him, grabbed a pillow, and whacked Peter with it. 

“Stop laughing, you little brat!” 

“Come at me, grandpa!” 

The second time machine was built and ready to go. As was Steve, standing on the platform. 

“You go in, put them back, and come back,” Peter said from the controls. 

“If you want, I can come with you,” Sam Wilson offered. 

“You’re a good man, Sam,” Steve complimented as he came off the platform, “but this one’s on me.” 

“Be quick, punk,” Bucky Barnes said, smiling tiredly at Steve. 

“Oh, what? Worried about the dinosaur?” Sam chuckled. 

“I’ll be okay, Buck,” Steve assured him, then smirked. There was something reminiscent, nostalgic in his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” 

Barnes rolled his eyes, a similar look in his eyes. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you,” he said. 

The two embraced. Sam tossed a look Peter’s way, as though to say, These two, huh? 

Peter grinned. 

“How long is this gonna take?” Sam asked, walking over to the mechanics. 

“For him?” Peter said. “As long as he needs. For us? Roughly five seconds.” 

“And it’s safe?” Barnes asked, eyes glued to Steve as he walked to the platform again. 

“We did to get you guys back,” Peter explained, punching in the proper numbers for Steve’s first time shift. “He’ll be fine.” 

“Ready, Cap?” Peter called. The man nodded. “We’ll see you back here.” 

“You bet,” Steve nodded again, helmet coming over to cover his face, picking up Thor’s hammer. 

“Three, two… one.” 

Steve disappeared in a flash. Peter flicked up some switches, saying, “And returning… five, four, three, two, one.” 

There was another flash and then…

No Steve. 

Peter straightened, looking from the pad to the numbers in front of him. It was all right, Steve should--

There was laughing at his left. 

Peter looked up in time to see Barnes and Sam racing over to a figure in the grass. “I miscalculated the coordinates!” Steve called through his laughter. “I’m fine!” 

Peter chuckled, relief blooming in his chest as he watched Steve and Barnes embrace again on the ground. 

“Barnes was right!” Peter called over. “You did take all the stupid with you!” 

Sometimes Peter still mused what the next step. 

It was more of a habit than an actual question now. 

Because the answer was the same every time he asked himself. 

This is the next step , he answered as he and Pepper helped set up decorations for Tony’s birthday. 

This is the next step , he answered as he and Gwen bought an apartment to share. 

This is the next step , he answered as he and Tony worked on prosthetic designs in the labs with DUM-E and U. 

This is the next step, he answered as he and May searched for homes for her. 

This is the next step , he answered as he read to Morgan every night, over the phone or in person. 

This is the next step , he answered as he introduced Nebula to MJ and Ned. 

This is the next step , he answered as he helped teach classes with Natasha at her new studio. 

This is the next step , he answered as he lived and breathed and celebrated his life and the lives he saved. 

This is the next step , he answered and smiled. This is the next step.