Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s monthly workout trials at the Avengers Compound. Just a little something they’d started doing after Thanos, a readiness trial of sorts. No one wants to call it a PT Test - it’s not graded, after all. Peter’s surprised to find himself looking forward to the workout. Everyday criminals were one thing, but to really challenge himself against other supers was something else entirely.

The new gym that had risen from the ashes of the old Compound was a modern marvel. Over a football field long and with infinite configurations, they could test themselves against anything. They could even control the weather settings.

Tony had also gone all out with specialized weight rooms. Floor to ceiling windows let in natural light from the back lawn. From there, they could soothe their muscles in the pool sized hot and cold tubs or go for a run on the suspended, indoor track. There were briefing rooms and situation rooms - so many that Peter thought he could easily get lost, but the scent of fresh popcorn always led him back to the shared kitchen and snack station.

There was nothing like stepping into the new building, everything backlit in tasteful arc reactor blue. The halls were lined with abstract suit and weapons specs for all of the Avengers including Spider-Man, and the curved railings were plated in dusky silver tones.

Mr. Stark clapped him on the shoulder, “So whatdaya think?”

Peter didn’t even have to pretend to be dazzled, but he grinned at Tony. “Everything’s chrome in the future.”

“What is today, but yesterday’s tomorrow?” Tony quips, a smile twisting his lips. Spongebob quotes had become part of their teasing shorthand ever since Tony had asked him about the origins of Karen. It was one of the joys of knowing each other so well.

Today, early on the Tuesday of Spring Break, Peter stretches and shakes off the kinks in his calf muscles from the morning run. They’d all started at the same time and Peter quickly hit his stride. It’s not every day you get to outrun Captain America, but then came waiting for everyone else. It took forever for the rest of the group to get back. He’s not even sure Vision bothered with running at all. Finally the last straggler, Tony, jogged back up the sweeping driveway and they were ready to start analyzing the results.

Rhodey, Peter and Tony are circled up in one corner of the indoor training facility, going over the morning training statistics while the others loosely spar. Tony taps a few buttons and Friday expands the graphs.

“Not looking too bad,”Tony says, pulling up another holographic chart showing the prior months’ data as well. “Overall, I think we’re improving.”

“I particularly like your 18 minute mile,” Rhodes comments, still dressed in his War Machine suit and working on unscrewing the cap on a bottle of Propel.

Tony blows out a dismissive breath. “Hey, I got there in the end, didn’t I?” He’s already shed his armor.

“But what are you gonna do when the aliens come back, Tones?” Rhodes gives him a serious look. “Gotta pick up the pace, man.”

“Hey, I have a plan.”

“I hope it’s not a running plan,” Peter teases, rocking a bit from foot to foot. He’s in his Spider-Man suit, but without his mask today, enjoying the freedom.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have to outrun the aliens,” Tony says petulantly. “I just have to outrun you.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Peter says immediately.

Rhodey chokes on his drink as Tony’s mouth drops open. He stares at Peter.

“Excuse you,” Tony says when he can finally speak again. “Rude.”

“Oh, I’m not even being rude, Mr Stark,” Peter says earnestly, holding out a hand. “Just stating the facts.”

There’s a high pitched sound, which Rhodey quickly covers with an unconvincing cough, that actually helps to break a little of the tension.

“Um, so are we done? I’m just gonna go run a few drills.” Peter jerks a thumb over his shoulder; he feels like he should beat a hasty retreat.

Tony waves him off. “Yeah, we’re done. Get out of here.”

Pete spins and shoots off a length of web, swinging up and sticking himself to the nearest wall.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Tony watching him for a moment and the silence stretches out as Rhodes pretends to be focused on rehydrating. He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he can’t help it.

“Ok, what just happened?” Tony mutters.

Rhodey smirks. “You were just very, very politely roasted. It was brutal, man.”

“Kids are the worst.” Tony sighs, but his lips quirk up and Peter can’t stop his smirk.

Vision sees him perched near the ceiling and moves in to engage. This should be good. How do you latch a web onto someone who can phase shift? He shoots an experimental web that goes right through his opponent.

“Nice try, Mr. Parker.”

Peter shrugs and grins. “It was worth a shot.”

“Perhaps we can practice your hand to hand combat, down on the mats?” Vision wonders.

Peter mulls it over. He’d kind of like to get some swinging in, but doesn’t want to be rude. “Sur-”

A shout catches his attention.

It’s not really a training session now. That part is over. They’re all just goofing around in the gym, letting off steam. Nat and Clint are sparring, more with words than fists, but it counts. The rest of the group are paired off but left to their own devices.

“Just throw it one more time.” Sam calls again to Steve. Falcon is hovering up near the ceiling. “One more time, man!”

Steve throws it, but’s too high and a little too fast, clipping Falcon’s wing and ricocheting back. Towards Tony and Rhodes.

“Tony!” Peter screams, throwing a web that catches the edge of the disc, but it’s already too late. His web stretches, elastic against the force of the moving shield.

It's Rhodey who reacts in time, shoving Tony back, the War Machine suit giving him more force than he intends. Tony slams down on the padded floor, the back of his head slapping against the mat.

Peter sees Tony blinking, but he doesn’t get up.

Peter tosses the shield to the ground and hurries over, bending down for a better look.

“Mr. Stark?” he murmurs tentatively.

“Tony? Tones?” Rhodey calls as he hurriedly disengages his suit and kneels down beside his friend.

“N-ine?” The word slurs out of Tony’s mouth.

Peter leans in, hands bracing on his knees. He looks to Colonel Rhodes. "What’s he saying?”

“I don’t know, Kid. Give him a minute.” Rhodey takes one of Tony’s hands in his own.

“Tony, who’s the president?”

Mr Stark's eyes are wide, searching, but lost. “Orange?”

Peter winces but Rhodes doesn't react. “Hm, ok. What year is it?”

There’s nothing, no answer. Peter finds the silence terrifying.

“Nat! Get Cho on the line.” Rhodes calls over his shoulder, his hand braced on Tony’s leg, a steadying pressure.

Nat doesn’t hesitate. “On it!”

“Don’t move Tony, they’re on the way,” Rhodes soothes.

“Nine?” Tony mumbles again.

Peter finally gets it, he kneels down and pats Tony’s shoulder. “Yeah, Mr. Stark, 911.”

It takes the medical team less than ten minutes to get there. They’re well paid to be on staff at the compound, though rarely needed. They put a cervical collar on Tony and move him carefully onto a stretcher, then out the door. Peter watches worriedly.

Rhodey follows them, already on the phone with Pepper.

“Did you see him?” Sam mutters as they carefully wheel him out.

“Like a sack of potatoes.” Clint huffs out a little chuckle.

Peter had been forced to retreat when the paramedics had shown up. His head snaps up, anger surging through him.

“It’s not funny.”

Steve tries his best to placate him. “Listen, Son, Tony will be okay. They’re going to take good care of him.”

The words ring hollow.

“Please don’t ‘son’ me, Sir." Shock ripples through the group, a silent wave. Peter doesn't care. “And you don’t know that. I may not be a doctor, but I know what a serious head injury looks like.”

He’s seething. He can tell it makes the rest of the gathered Avengers feel a bit wrong-footed, the change from his usual deferential and respectful tone. He tries to reign in his temper.

“Listen, when you’ve been doing this as long as we have, sometimes you have moments of inappropriate humor," Sam tries to explain.

"Yeah," Clint chimes in. “It’s a coping mechanism.”

“Doesn’t make it right.” Peter crosses his arms over his chest.

Nat steps in before this can go any further. She takes Peter’s arm. “Let’s go up to the Medical Wing.”

She glares at Cint over her shoulder, and Peter sees him indignantly mouth, ”What?"

Peter draws himself up, turning his back to the group, spine straight. He stalks off in a sharp heel-to-toe stride. He wishes he could turn off his super hearing, but no such luck.

“Geez, he’s sensitive," Clint retorts.

“Mr. Parker is distressed.” Vision observes calmly from somewhere behind him. “Tony’s injury appears to be of a serious nature. As you know, they are quite close.”

“Yeah, we got that," Sam says without any heat.

“And, honestly, he's not wrong,” Steve sighs. Peter feels a flash of vindication as the gym doors slam shut behind him.

---

Tony blinks slowly as the haze that surrounded him slowly came back into focus. There are pen lights in his eyes and lots of questions that just keep coming.

“What’s your name?”

“ T- Ssss-tar-k.” He winces when his tongue slips over the words
.
“What year is it?”

“Tweeny tw-.” He gets that much out and the rest slips away. He frowns and licks his lips.

“Do you know where you are?” The person that had been tormenting him with the light asks.

Tony draws a blank and panic washes over him in an icy wave. Someone pats his hand.
He’s quickly prepped for a CAT scan and off he goes, awareness slipping away under the constant assault on his senses.

Finally, the swirls of lights and colors ebb and he finds himself in a recovery room of sorts.
The ceiling above him is a dull silver, and he finds that calming for some reason, familiar. As his awareness expands, he notices someone seated beside his bed. His eyes flick over to find a woman in a white lab coat, waiting patiently for him to notice her.

“Quite a concussion you’ve got there.” The Doctor says conversationally. She looks over the CAT scan results and makes a few notes in her chart.

“Spangles,” Tony growls out, then blinks uncertainly when the impression slips away. He shifts a bit, physical awareness slowly seeps back in. He’s still resting flat on his back on the bed, but it’s not too uncomfortable.

“The aphasia is concerning, but seems to be improving. I’m going to want an MRI just to be sure.”

Even if he wanted to argue, Tony couldn’t. The words aren’t there yet. They come and go, disappearing before he can fully grasp them. Frustration gnaws at him.

There’s a shuffling sound. Tony turns his head. The movement causes a dull throb and momentary blurring of his vision before it clears. A kid appears in the doorway to the bay, hovering. He’s dressed in a shockingly bright red suit and watching with worried eyes.

Tony still isn’t sure of what exactly is going on, but he knows his mouth won’t work if he tries to ask. And that scares him. His brain has always been far and away his most reliable organ, but that’s evidently no longer the case.

“Hey, Dr Cho,” The kid says in a shaky voice.

“Hi, Peter, checking in on him already? Come on in.” There’s warmth in her voice. “We’re heading down for an MRI. So a little bit of role reversal for you.” The doctor - Cho, Tony reminds himself - smiles at a private joke. She pages someone to help move Tony.

“Can I come along?” the kid asks. Tony tries to focus on the kid, on his words, but his thoughts are scattered and confused. He closes his eyes instead. He tries to get his bearings.

“Sure, you can keep him in line for me.”

Tony cracks open one eye and the kid is grinning.

“I’ll try, Doc, but no promises.”

Tony grunts because he’s right here. Just in case anyone’s forgotten.

“Hey, Mr. Stark.” The kid eases in closer, only to be nudged out of the way by an orderly. He goes back to hovering in the background.

Tony closes his eyes and waits. This will all be over soon and he can get back to his life. He wonders where Pepper is. Probably on her way, with Happy. That thought comforts him.

The trip to the MRI machine is uneventful, but he can just catch snippets of conversation between Dr. Cho and the kid, trailing behind them, somewhere just above his head.
They move him quickly onto the patient table of the machine. He can hear muted conversation somewhere to his left. He swallows hard.

“All right Tony, we’re ready.”

He’s fitted with ear buds and eased into the metal tube, his breath quickening. He’s in the dark. There’s a loud buzzing, then rapid beeps. It's swiftly followed by muted clanging and he’s alone. Suddenly he’s not in an MRI machine, he’s in space, staring up at an alien fleet as his suit fails around him. He gasps as his heart rate picks up.

He’s stammering, reaching for the name, “Jjjj-”

The Doctor's voice comes over the intercom, concerned and soothing. “Tony, I need you to stay still.”

He can’t, he can’t. Oh god, he’s going to die up here all alone.

“Hey, Mr. Stark.” The voice is quiet, a little hesitant. “Did I ever get to tell you about my last patrol? So there was this pawn shop robbery. I know you don’t like me responding to those, but I was around and anyway -” the voice becomes more sure.

“Maybe we can pull up the footage later. So I was waiting outside on a lamppost, like I do. As soon as they saw me they took off in opposite directions. It was epic.” He laughs a little, clearly caught up in the memory.
“The tall guy took himself out with the flagpole and the short one fell over a planter. I didn’t even have to do anything besides stick ‘em down and-” The voice trails off and Tony finds to his surprise that he misses it just as it returns.

“Oh cool. Is that his brain? Wow, Mr. Stark, it is in there. I guess Ms. Potts was wrong.”

Tony can’t help the escape of breath as he catches the laugh before it fully forms. The kid is funny and, as he keeps talking, Tony finds he can breathe a little easier as the constant chatter crowds out his anxiety.

Out of the MRI, he goes through the test motions of tapping his fingers and attempting to answer a few basic questions that the doctor walks him through. At least he still knows his name and birthday. They ease him out and he’s once again wheeled through the halls. His thoughts are becoming a little clearer, but he’s still not all there.

“I’m gonna go update the team.” The kid's eyes watch over Tony in a protective manner. “Unless you think maybe I should stay?” Brown eyes flick over to the doctor for permission.

“We’re just going to have a little chat and then he needs to rest, so I think you’re good.”

The kid leaves, but Tony has no doubt that, if given a reason, he would have lingered. It’s a strangely comforting thought.

“Good news." The doctor smiles. “I see some bruising, but overall I think you’ll be ok in a day or two. Now, absolutely no straining to read, so stay off that Starkpad. I’m going to copy Ms. Potts on my recommendations, so-”

“Who - who was tha' guy?” he mumbles, frustrated to find he still can’t make the words come out.

“What guy?” The doctor is still smiling, but her eyes narrow a bit.

“The, um, the kid. Red guy?”

Doctor Cho’s lips press together and she contemplates him carefully. “You don’t remember Peter? Tony can you tell me again what year this is?”

He’d tried before but the answer had slurred and they’d moved on.

This time though he blinks up at her “2012.” It comes easily this time and after so much struggling, he’s relieved. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been, because that launches a whole new battery of tests and a teleconference with a specialist.

He knows the news is not good, but he’s still not quite prepared for the diagnosis when it comes. Dr. Cho pulls up a chair at his bedside. Her demeanor was a little more formal before, but she looks at him now with a great deal of compassion.

“Tony, it seems the concussion is more serious than early testing suggested. We believe that your head injury has triggered retrograde amnesia. You’re missing several years’ worth of memories.”

He startles. ”What?”

“You have amnesia. This signals that your concussion recovery will progress more slowly than normal. You may get those memories back, or they might be gone for good.” She’s watching him carefully. “We just don’t know yet. The good news is that there’s no sign that you won’t be able to make new memories. And I know you don’t remember me from before, but I know you. Tony, you’re going to have to take this slowly. No Ironman. No Avengers. You need to rest and recover. No technology, no screens. We’ll set up an appointment schedule to stay on top of your recovery.”

He nods, words failing him for a different reason altogether this time. The doctor leaves with one last concerned look at him. He drops his head back on the pillow with a sigh. Tony’s pulled from his thoughts by a movement by the door. The kid is back, and looking unsure of himself again.

“Hi, Mr. Stark. How are you feeling?”

“I have amnesia.” The words spill off his tongue before he can stop them. The only solace is that they at least make sense.

The kid winces. “I know. I heard. I didn’t meant to but I was out here and I couldn’t help-”

“And you are?” Tony cuts him off because he still doesn’t know.

“Peter, um, Parker? I-I’m S-Spider-Man.” The kid fidgets and Tony can’t decide if it’s endearing or annoying.

“Spider-Man? There’s a Spider-Man?” The more he uses his voice, the easier it is to speak. It's also a good distraction from the headache currently clawing across nerve endings in his head.

They’re interrupted by Rhodey stepping in behind the kid. He claps the boy on the shoulder. “Hey, Pete.”

“Hey, Man - I mean, Mr. Colonel War Machine, Sir.” There is a teasing edge to his voice, but his eyes are serious and dark with concern.

Rhodey smiles. “Why don’t you go catch a shower? I’ll keep the patient company.” His tone is gentle, patting the kid on the back as he reluctantly leaves the room with one last worried look back at Tony.

Rhodey steps back in and the soft whirring finally catches Tony’s attention. “What happened to your legs?” He blurts out.

“What happened to your head?” Rhodey fires back, then shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “Listen, I wanted you to hear it from me. “

Tony’s not so much worried about the memories - Dr. Cho said he could make new ones - but what is he going to do if he can't remember science? “What, is there something else? Is-is it my brain? Am I brain damaged?”

“No more than usual,” Rhodey observes dryly, implicitly understanding his fears. It makes Tony relax, even though he glares. “What's the last thing you remember?

“Nearly getting brained by that star spangled frisbee.” It's more of an impression than an actual memory. Everything is choppy and unclear, like someone has put his most recent memories in a blender. He can’t really make sense of the pieces.

“I’m the one that pushed you, I was still in the suit.” Rhodey rubs his chin. “I’m sorry, Tony. I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“No worries, Platypus, hard head.” Tony raps on his temple.

“Not hard enough.” Rhodes pulls up a metal chair. “Really, though, what do you remember? No pressure.”

“You’ve been talking with the doctors.”

“I’m on all your forms.”

Tony nods, digesting that. Makes sense. He struggles to answer, “ Pep? We were doing okay. My suits…gone.” He swallows a wave of anxiety as he loses words. “Pep?” he says again, unable to actually finish the question. Fortunately, Rhodey doesn’t need him to.

“Yeah, Pep’s fine. Somehow you’ve convinced her to marry you.”

Tony blinks. “We’re, we got…” he shakes his head as a wave of emotion rolls over him. “She’s my-?”

“Engaged. You’re still working on all the wedding bullshit. For the record, I think you ought to just elope before she really thinks it through.”

Tony glares at him. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, there was a dust up with Steve and some of the other Avengers.”

“Dust up? What happened?” Tony tries to remember, but it’s just a big wall of nothing, no matter how he pushes against it.

Rhodes looks away and shakes his head. “Too much. We’re still living with the fallout. It’s a work in progress.”

Tony doesn’t know what to say to that, so he brings up something else that's been troubling him.
“I saw the JV squad earlier. When did we start recruiting children?”

Rhodey doesn’t laugh. “Yeah, that was all you.”

A disbelieving laugh escapes Tony. “Right. Jarvis, bring up the file on the Avengers.” There’s no response.

“It’s Friday now.”

“What?” Tony blinks. Grief rolls through him sharp and hot.

“You have a new AI, Friday.” Rhodey says it gently, as if he’s aware of the way it cuts.

“What happened to Jarvis?” Tony finds himself gripping the bed railing.

Rhodey sighs and pats his hand. “I’m sorry. Give it time, Tony.”

“Yeah,” he says dumbly. God, Jarvis was gone; what else was different? He doesn’t feel any different himself, but the world around him is warped, wrong.

“Tones,” Rhodes says again to get his attention. “I’m going to go now and let you rest. Pepper will be here as soon as she can.”

Tony can feel his nod is a little jerky, his thoughts swirling, missing pieces raising more questions.

“Oh, and - Tony.” Rhodey pauses in the doorway, regarding him seriously. “About the kid.”

“What kid?” he asks blankly. Tony‘s mind had already moved on to a thousand more pressing mysteries.

“The one that just left.” Rhodey sighs, jerking his head in the direction of the hallway. “Your kid.”

Tony’s eyes go wide of their own accord, his focus snapping sharply back into the present. “No.”

“Yes, Tony. Listen to me. I know you think it’s still 2012. I know you don’t remember now but when you do, you will not want to have fucked this up - for you.” Rhodey’s expression is as serious as he’s ever seen it.

“Me? With a kid? No one in their right mind would give me a kid.”

“They didn’t, honestly, it’s complicated.”

Tony sits, utterly dumbfounded. He clears his throat and aims for levity. “You’re telling me I have a kid? I made a kid?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t make this one. You sorta semi-permanently borrowed him. You share… custody or something? With his aunt.”

“Ok, are you fucking with me right now?” There’s a flash of irritation. Tony doesn’t do kids. Maybe a high five, an autograph, but he definitely does not borrow them on any kind of long-term basis.

“You grew up.” Rhodey shrugs and it nettles slightly. “ Wasn’t all a straight line, but you got there.”

He levels a glare at Rhodey, but the man gives it right back.

“Get some rest, Tones,” Rhodey advises just before he leaves.

Tony tries, but at first, sleep won’t come. He’s tempted to disregard the technology ban and have this new AI bring up all the pertinent data files on his missing time. But that would require calling out an unfamiliar name, and that would make it all real. He’s not ready yet to acknowledge the chasm those missing memories have created. Years, god. How do you define something by its absence? It’s hours before sleep finally claims him.

---

It’s the next day before they let him out of bed. When he gets to his feet he feels okay, other than a lingering headache. Dr. Cho assures him that’s normal. He’s also been informed that Pepper is only a few hours out, so he dresses and leaves the med wing.

He returns to his apartment with only the new AI, Friday, as an escort but he knows Rhodey is lurking around here somewhere, just in case Tony needs him. The sleek doors open on the living quarters. He pauses for a moment to take it in. It’s undoubtedly his, sleek and uncluttered, everything up to his standards, but also, at it’s core, distinctly unfamiliar.

There are pictures scattered around. Of himself and Pepper, Rhodey and Bruce. Bruce. Where the heck was Bruce anyway? He picks up a picture and immediately winces. There are unfamiliar faces here. He sets it down quickly as if it might burn him. He doesn’t look at any of the other frames, just in case. He steps back, and catches his left arm in his right; it’s numb. Surprised, he experimentally flexes it, but the tingling persists.

He wanders the apartment, eyes tracing the line. A burgundy couch paired with a couple of charcoal lounge chairs. Good to know he was still willing and able to spill 20 grand on comfort. He catches sight of himself in the large backlit mirror that stretches across one wall. He looks rough. Time to fix that probably.

Gingerly, he pulls off his clothes. He didn’t think he used to have this many aches and pains, but apparently eight years of rattling around in a metal suit will do that to you, whether you remember those years or not. The shower is a careful affair. He takes a moment to feel the tender lump on the back of his head. He probes it with his fingers, wincing when it smarts.

Towel wrapped around his waist, he lays out what he needs to shave. He looks into the mirror, up close this time. The face that looks back at him is clearly his own, but he doesn’t exactly recognize it.

The lines on his cheeks are deeper, and there are new creases that bracket his mouth. He thinks it makes him look stern and reminds him of his father. Father - him? He shoves that thought down with a shake of his head. He’s not going there, not yet.

Christ, he got old. He leans on the counter top, taking a deep, steadying breath. Finally setting his jaw, he picks up a razor and shapes his facial hair carefully. He tries not to focus on the gray hairs stubbornly peppered through his goatee.

Once he’s shaved, he dresses casually in a black T-shirt and jeans. After only a moment’s deliberation, he snatches up the Starkpad from the bedside table - he was always a terrible patient, anyway. He opts to leave his feet bare and pads back into the living space.

“Tony!” Pepper’s surprised exclamation startles him. In contrast to his own attire, she’s dressed impeccably in a navy pencil skirt suit set. Her Louis Vuitton travel bag is abandoned near the door.

“You’re, um, your hair.” Tony gestures dumbly. He’s staring because he remembers it being a warm cinnamon, but now it’s lighter, streaked with blonde.

She smiles, a little unsure. “Yeah, highlights. I was trying something new.“

Suddenly, the pretense drops. She moves into his space and wraps her arms around him. And this, Tony remembers. He has to swallow down a surge of emotion as the protective shell he’s wrapped himself in finally cracks.

“Oh my god. I was so worried.” Stepping back but keeping one hand on his elbow, she tries to meet his gaze. He avoids hers because he isn’t ready yet. He doesn’t want her to see all the missing pieces behind his eyes.

Her hand slips down, taking his, and she pulls them down on the couch. Tony drops the Stark pad he’s been clinging to on the smoky gray coffee table. It hits with a clatter, but doesn’t break the mood.

He scoots close, closes his eyes and breathes her in a bit. “I can’t… It’s just gone.” He tries to explain, to put as much explanation as he can bear into those few words. And bless Pepper, she gets him.

“Ok. Ok, we’ll get through this.” Her voice is strong and reassuring, Tony just wishes he could believe her. For now, he lets her hold his shadows at bay.
_________________________

The next morning dawns a little brighter. Tony is feeling better physically after a quick, protein-packed breakfast with Pepper. They try to have a quiet morning, but sitting still isn’t in either of their natures. He can tell she’s worried but doesn’t want to hover.

They studiously avoid talking about all that missing time, but Tony has questions. A lot of questions. It also lingers unspoken between them that he is dying to dig into the information databases. He’s trying to be a good patient, so he starts to dismantle the coffee maker instead.

She finally concedes with a wry look, tossing down the proposal she’d been proofreading.

“Ok, I have a conference call in ten minutes. Try not to strain yourself.” She gives him a stern look that slips into a laugh as he rockets to his feet.

“Ok, Hon.” He tries to calm it down and aim for casual. “See you for lunch?”

“Mmm.” She hums noncommittally. “Happy says he’d like to see you. I assume that means cheeseburgers?”

“Oh, yeah, probably.” It would be good to see Happy.

“We’ll do dinner.” She says decisively, gathering her papers.

Their eyes land on the scattered pieces of coffee maker at the same time.

Pepper sighs, “Just leave it. I’ll have Friday order another one.”

She takes him down to what is obviously his personal lab and sets him loose.

Tony’s more than ready to start making inroads into the world he’s forgotten. If he can’t look at events from his own memories, the least he can do is get as much perspective as he can from the outside.

He pauses, giving himself one more moment to grieve all his lost experiences before he ruthlessly pushes the feeling aside.

“Friday, pull up everything you can on me. Sort it by date. Let’s start around, let’s say fall of 2012.”

“On it.” She answers, it's smooth and it's almost enough.

After a couple of hours reviewing his design files, Tony’s kind of enjoying the amnesia. How often do you get to appreciate your own genius from the outside?

He pours over news and tech journals. There’s press releases and product launches for him to go over. God, he’s brilliant.

As he digs deeper into his files, past nanotech and holo modeling, he starts to note a change in direction. There are notes about something called the September Foundation and a half formed sketch of something called the WEB initiative, whatever the hell that was.

Tony skips over these, he’ll come back to it. He’s been procrastinating, but now he needs to know.

“Friday bring up specs on all my suits, will ya.”

“Any particular order?”

“Surprise me.”

Immediately an array of suits surrounds him. The Hulkbuster, his hydro armor, the classic Mark III, Mark LV, and some he hadn’t even thought of yet. It’s all here and he spins with childlike delight. It’s like being reunited with a missing piece. Excited, he digs deeper, reaching the end of the Iron Suits and, pulling up the specs for War Machine suits. The most recent design a bulky gray, a flying fortress with focus on keeping its pilot as safe as possible.

On a whim he pulls apart the holographic build. The legs have built in cybernetic prosthetics built in. It’s his own design, that much he can tell. He regards it somberly, willing himself to remember. There’s a bitter tang of failure on his tongue, but nothing concrete surfaces. He growls and swipes at the hologram, sending it spinning out of the sight only to be replaced by another suit entirely.

This suit is wrought in scarlet and cobalt, a weblike pattern streaking over the red. He’s seen this before. On that kid. The eyes are swooped up and insect like; the overall effect is other-worldly. Unsettling. That makes sense because, having seen the kid’s face, he could use the intimidation factor.

Tony silently contemplates the suit. This wasn’t a mere alteration of his own Ironman designs. This design had taken into consideration someone else's preferences and abilities. His thoughts roll over the last few days and he remembers how the kid had been there, from almost the very moment he’d woken up in the med bay. That was loyalty and something else. Affection rolls over him, unbidden. He tries to chase it back to its source, but he hits a wall.

He drops his face in his hands and scrubs them over his face. Who is he without his memories? His early euphoria ebbing away into a darker mood.

“J-” He gives his head a shake. “Friday, pull up the file on Spider-Man.”

The room explodes into color and Tony’s eyes skip over the data. One Peter Parker from Midtown Tech, possessing a genius intellect, super strength, and a whole host of other enhanced abilities, had taken up the mantle of Spider-Man. The first picture Tony focuses on is a grainy shot of the kid in what looks like hand stitched sweats, but at least the color scheme is familiar.

“Send that to my tablet, will ya.” Tony tosses himself on a low chair in a corner, away from the high counters.

“Sure Boss.” Friday chimes in. At first Tony hadn’t been sure about the “Boss” designation, but he’s quickly getting used to it.

He clicks through a few videos. The Spider-kid has incredible skills but exactly zero sense of self preservation. Tony quickly cross references some of the things he sees with the specs of the newest suit. It seems his past self reached the same conclusions:the kid is as well protected as he can be given the situation he’s found himself in.

He’s about to dig in deeper when there’s a knock at the open door to the lab. He catches sight of Happy holding a greasy paper bag and two cups balanced in a cup holder. With a quick swipe of a finger, he closes down the Spider files and stands up.

Happy is giving him a quick once over with a practiced eye.“You’re lookin’ better than I expected.”

Tony shrugs. “Just a fall.”

“Sometimes, that’s all it takes,” Happy says solemnly, then moves on.

They studiously avoid the topic of Tony’s memory loss, more or less picking up where they left off. For better or worse, avoidance is one of the defining traits of their friendship. The highs and the lows pass without commentary, and it works for them. The fact that Happy’s even still around is a testament to the strength of their relationship.

The man unpacks their lunch on a counter. Two burgers for Tony, one double for himself. Tony pulls up two burn orange stools and Happy sets the greasy wrapped food between them.

They start the meal in silence.

“So what about this Parker guy.” Tony asks casually, dipping a fry in ketchup. Where Rhodey frames things in what he thinks Tony’s best interests are, Happy is usually a straight shooter.

“He’s a good kid.” Happy answers quickly, reaching for a napkin. “He’s been askin’ about you.”

Tony mulls over what that might mean. “Yeah, well, I’ve been a little busy.” It comes out a little sharper than he means it to.

Happy eyes cut to him, surprised.

Covering up his discomfort with a bite of burger, Tony keeps his eyes down, avoiding Happy’s gaze. He swallows and reaches for his drink.

“So does he have parents?” He doesn't feel the need to specify who he’s talking about.

“He did, they passed when he was young.” Happy chews. “Kid lost his uncle, too, hasn’t been that long ago.”

That sets off a pang in Tony’s chest. He knows what it’s like to wake up in a world marred by the death of someone you loved - to be an orphan. He empathizes, but that doesn’t really explain why he’s taken on a teenager.

“But I’m not his Dad or anything?” He clarifies.

“No, you’re not.” Happy pauses. “But you’re something.”

They start to eat again in silence. Tony mulls it over. He finishes his food, wads up the wrappers, and tosses them back in the bag reflexively. The muscle memory startles him a bit, because he remembers he used to just leave his messes around for someone else to clean up. Well, not anymore, apparently.

“Tony, you need to talk to the kid. Even if it’s just...I dunno.” Happy trails off, seemingly at a loss.

“Well see,” Tony says noncommittally. He can feel himself closing off, unsure of this new pressure of responsibility.

Happy frowns, recognizing the signs. Tony tosses the bag of trash at him and the other man catches it.

“Bye.” Tony abruptly turns back to an abandoned circuit board on the bench. It’s a dismissal, and Happy recognizes it as such. Tony watches from under his lashes as Happy scowls, crumpling up the bag of trash even further.

“Tony.” Happy seems to wrestle with himself for a second, then he turns, pointing a finger in his direction. “Don’t hurt the kid.”

That sends a flash of temper down his spine. Tony stands and turns toward the door, tossing his tools on the table.

“Don’t hurt him? I’m the one with the concussion!” He calls at Happy’s retreating back. He gets no reply.

The lunch with Happy leaves Tony feeling fractious and on edge. How dare Happy take the high ground? He worries over that, steadfastly refusing to worry about the problem with the kid.

He retreats back into his lab, planning to stay there until Pepper comes to get him. He should have known a little peace and quiet would be too much to ask.

“Tony.” A hesitant voice comes from the open doorway.

He tersely acknowledges the owner. “Steve.”

So far, Tony has avoided looking up what happened with the Avengers. He doesn’t really have it in him to parse a trauma he doesn’t even remember. He knows instinctively that Steve was involved. Or maybe it’s only logic, because hadn’t they been on a collision course from the very beginning?

Steve takes his silence as an invitation to come farther into the room. “I wanted to apologize, Tony. We shouldn’t have been messing around. Not with you out of the suit. I’m sorry.” Steve’s blue eyes are somber and full of gravity - pretty standard for Captain America.

“Well, we all make mistakes.” Tony says flippantly, tossing a screwdriver up and catching it. He’s not really in the right headspace to have this discussion.

“I know things have been different since Berlin, but I just wanted you to know that we’re here to support you in any way we can.” Tony did not know that, but as soon as Steve says it, he can see the truth. “Everyone’s been having a hard time since your injury.”

Nat and Clint haven’t been by, and Steve has this look of resigned sadness lurking under the concern in his icy blue eyes. They are mere feet apart, but it feels like a gulf yawning out between them. He has no idea what happened but he can feel in his bones that it was bad. He knows that Rhodey’s leg braces factor into this somehow. And where the hell are Bruce and Thor? Not dead, he’s pretty sure, but not here either. Everything feels wrong and off-kilter.

Suddenly, he’s furious, he can’t control it. He’s angry that he’s woken up in this world that doesn't make sense. And if anyone should understand, it’s Captain fucking America.

“Don’t pretend that this is hard on you,” He seethes.

Steve's head snaps up at the venom in his tone. Then his brows are drawing together. Good. Tony is spoiling for a fight. An easy way to vent some of this frustration.

“Tony,” Steve starts, but suddenly Rhodey is at the doorway.

“Everything ok?”

Tony throws the screwdriver he’s holding back onto the table. It ricochets off, clatters to the floor, and takes a metal housing down with it.

“Peter and I were just dropping by and -”

Tony catches sight of curly brown hair outside in the hallway. That’s the last thing he needs while he’s in this state. God, why is he in this mood?

He vaguely remembers depression and uncontrolled anger being part of concussion recovery. He thinks he should probably try to de-escalate, but all of that seems so far away when he’s here in the moment.

“Oh, you and Peter were just coming by to do what, exactly?” He knows it’s unfair to do this, to unload on them, but Steve and Rhodey? They can take it. “Just in case anyone’s forgotten, I’m suffering from amnesia. I don’t remember the last however many fucking years of my life. I barely remember you.” He points at Steve. “And I definitely don’t remember him!” He gestures to the hallway.

In his anger, he’s pleased to see that Steve is backing up, but Rhodey is coming closer.

“Tony, keep your voice down, the kid has super hearing.” Rhodey’s flick worriedly to the open door

“Keep my voice down? Keep my voice down! I’m not his goddamn babysitter!” He roars, and feels a bright burst of satisfaction when Steve winces.

There’s the distant sound of a door slamming that snaps him back to himself. The fight gone out of him, Tony slumps back against the lab counter. Remorse rolls over him, tinged just a bit with self loathing. He knows he shouldn’t have lost control like that.

“I’ll go find him.” Steve beats a hasty retreat.

Rhodey frowns, eyes serious. “You need to pull it together, man. Self-pity doesn’t suit you.”

That stings. Tony just blows out a tired breath and nods in agreement. A dull ache has set up shop in his head.

Steve reappears after a few minutes. and this time he has the kid. Peter.

Silence reigns for a moment.

Then Tony steps forward. “Listen, Peter.” The name is a bit unfamiliar on his lips, and it occurs to him that, as someone who loves his nicknames, this may be a touch too formal. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“It’s ok, Mr. Stark.” Peter’s dark eyes are watchful. Tony feels like they see too much.

“Ok, good talk.” Tony aims a pat on the boy’s shoulder. The gesture falls a little flat.

The wary look doesn’t leave the kid’s eyes, and Tony’s surprised to find that alarms him. He blinks at the revelation.

That causes Rhodey to step in. “Come on, Pete. Let’s let Tony rest.”

Steve has already withdrawn, but Tony feels like he should reach out, offer some kind of olive branch to the kid.

“You can stay.” Tony says choking a bit on the words, but not because he regrets them. He feels a little exposed from his tantrum.

“I don’t want to overstep, Sir, but maybe you should take some time to rest.”

The advice stings, but it’s also a relief. The kid is giving him some space and permission to figure it out on his own terms. He appreciates it.

Tony doesn’t watch them go, but he feels them leaving anyway.

“Get it together, Stark,” he murmurs to himself. “Before you lose something you can't get back.”

—-

When he gets back to the living quarters, he’s exhausted. He showers on autopilot before throwing himself in the bed to sleep fitfully until he feels Pepper slid into bed beside him. She doesn’t say anything, merely scoots close. Her presence relaxes him and he slips into a dreamless sleep.

The next day finds Tony sullen and withdrawn. There’s a lingering headache that he’s determined to power through. Pepper, sensing his mood, leaves him to it. He feels guilty for leaving her to manage everything without him, but he is also self aware enough to wryly acknowledge that maybe that’s actually a relief for her.

He finally allows himself to look into the state of the Avengers. God, it’s bad. The Accords and the very public fallout. He pours through the files, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, Germany, and Siberia. That last file he has to close prematurely, the text gutting him. It’s too much. The need for a drink washes over him as he grapples with the magnitude of the betrayal.

The only saving grace is that he feels some degree of separation from the events. There’s no emotional context in his memory. Without that input, there’s just too much there for him to process. It feels like a story that happened to someone else, some other Tony.

Everything is upside down and backward. Gone for good is the easy camaraderie he’d once had with the other Avengers. He has no idea where Bruce and Thor are, but he hopes maybe those relationships came out unscathed.

He takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself. Focusing on what he does know seems to help. There’s Pepper, and she's even agreed to marry him. He still has Rhodey and Happy, and now the kid, Peter. That last one makes the least sense in light of what he knows about himself.

Germany. He pulls the file up again. A showdown between him and Steve - that hurts, but scattered through are the records of his successful recruitment of one Spider-Man. He pulls up that file, moving through the videos and increasingly frantic text and voicemails from Happy as the man struggled to contain a fourteen year old vigilante.

At some point, he must have stepped in. Taken a firmer hand, but that’s not in this record. A kid! He’s getting soft. He doesn’t know why his thoughts keep traitorously straying back to the kid. He’s the one thing that Tony has no memory of, no frame of reference for.

“Friday, we got anything else on the spider-kid?”

“Would you like to review the Baby Monitor files?”

Baby Monitor? What the hell, Past Tony? Friday is throwing data up as fast as he can read it. Training Wheels, Night Night, So You’ve Missed Your Curfew, and There’s No Such Thing As Lightly Stabbed protocols. He doesn’t even want to remember what led to that last one being a thing.

Without his prompting, Friday cues up a video of the kid giving directions, stopping a bank robbery, catching a stolen car by accidently separating the vehicle from its chassis with an ill-placed web.

Tony sits and he watches and he laughs, which is not what he’d expected. But Peter - Peter is sweet, hilarious, and honest to a fault. Happy was right, this is a good kid. So what is he doing hanging around an asshole like Tony?

On that note, he finally ventures out of the lab. He can navigate the Compound pretty easily, having memorized the layout in all of 2 seconds. Lunch is a couple of bags of trail mix and a sugary iced coffee that he finds at the snack station. Even with the caffeine hit, he can feel that he’s tired.

He knows he’s still not fit for socializing, he pauses to make sure the coast is clear. For a moment, he considers walking the grounds to clear his head, but abandons that idea in favor of a nap. He makes it back to the living quarters. To his surprise, Pepper is already there.

She smiles when she sees him, looking up from her laptop. Her hair is pulled up and she’s dressed semi-casually in a blouse and gray slacks.

“Hey stranger.” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, and it relaxes him a bit.

Tony’s eyes flicker to her ring finger and back to her face. He still can’t quite believe it. He leans in for a kiss because he loves her and he can; he hopes he’ll never reached a point where he takes this for granted.

Pepper watches him carefully. “Feeling ok?”

“Yeah, not too bad.” He takes careful stock of how he is physically. “Back of my head still feels like I lost a fight with a floor mat, but I’m doing ok.”

She’s watching him with her serious expression now, the one that means he needs to do something. He meets her gaze, a little wary.

“Have you spoken to Peter?” She asks.

“No.” He picksup the Stark pad to resume his research. The tab is still open on the kid’s smiling face. He tries to subtly close it out.

“Happy mentioned that you might be having a little trouble, and I wanted-”

“So, what, you’ve adopted him, too?” He interrupts her, his tone short, and boy, is that a mistake.

“Tony, you need - “

“Later.”

“No, now. I’ve invited his au-”

He snaps, “I don’t want to talk about the boy genius Spider-kid, ok?”

Pepper’s blue eyes darken, there’s a stubborn set to her chin.

Something about the way she talks about it all nettles him. He’s simultaneously part of it and excluded. Old insecurities rear their heads. He pulls his gaze away, the thoughts tumbling through his mind. He can’t find the words to communicate all his anxieties. He clenches his fist.

Pepper stands, reaching for his hand, her earlier anger gone. He lets her take it, tangling their fingers together.

“You’ll get it back,” she whispers, leaning into him.

But what if he doesn’t?

“You like him better than me.” It slips out before he can stop it.

“Who?” She looks mystified, but Tony is sure.

“You like the other me better.”

“Tony, that’s ridiculous. You’re the same person.” Pepper squeezes his fingers.

“But we’re not. He takes on scrappy super-kids and plays nice with DC. I’m not that guy. Not now, maybe not ever again.” Everyone is so sure he was going to get his memory back, but he’s not. It’s like they’re waiting for him to be fixed, to be the same old Tony again.

Pepper is staring at him now, her expression fierce. “Don’t say that.” She steps closer. “You’re recovering from a serious head injury, Tony, but you’re still you.”

“This guy you’re describing, I don’t know who that guy is. How to be him.”

Suddenly, it all seems like too much. His head throbs. Given the choice between fight or flight, he usually picks fight almost every time, but not with Pepper. Not now, when everything feels so fragile. So Tony leaves and retreats back to his sanctuary.

Tony busies himself in his lab, there’s really nothing else to do. It's just a good place to hide. He’s perched on a rolling stool, carefully checking lines of code when someone steps inside. He quashes a sigh, picks up a tablet, and doubles down on looking busy.

Ignoring people usually works.

This person doesn't retreat thought.

“May I come in?” The voice is light, and he doesn’t recognize it.

He glances at the doorway. It’s an older woman, looking not at all bad for her age, with kind, brown eyes. She has long, dark hair, and glasses perched on her nose. He can see the kid lurking behind her in the hallway. Oh goody, more trauma for everyone.

“And you are?” he keeps his tone neutral because, truth be told, he’s a little wary of this conversation. He fumbles across the desk for something to fidget with, coming up with a discarded rubber band.

“I’m May Parker and this is my nephew, Peter.” She says the introduction like this is the most normal thing in the world, to reintroduce him to people he ought to already know. The Aunt. He remembers Rhodey saying they were doing some kind of loose co-parenting, because that’s not something Tony would forget. The kid’s eyes flick to his and then away. Tony is annoyed to find he has to look away, too. There’s a weight in the kid’s stare that he’s not ready to take on.

May Parker doesn’t seem put off by any of this. “Give us a minute, Peter.”

“Ok.” He beats a hasty retreat. Tony can’t help but feel a little relieved.

“It’s good to see you,” May says gently. “You look well.”

“Thanks.” He tosses the rubber band down and folds his arms across his chest. It’s a defensive move, one that can’t quite control. “You are looking particularly well, too.” He deliberately flicks his eyes over her figure, trying to deflect.

She levels a look at him that checks him mid-progress. “I’m a nurse.” There’s no reason for her to mention that other than to tell him that she understands, better than most.

Words fail him a bit and he nods, casting his eyes about for something to tinker with. She doesn’t seem put off by his avoidance.

“Give yourself time to heal,Tony. These things really do take time, unfortunately.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone keeps saying.” A thread of bitterness coils through his words. May reaches out and gives his arm a sympathetic squeeze. It’s maternal and grounding. He’s co-parenting with this woman?

She seems to sense his internal struggle. “Do you mind if I give you a hug?”

He startles, suddenly uncertain. “Oh, um, well. I don’t know, is this…? Are we there?””

May slips over and gently wraps her arms around his shoulders. “It’s going to be ok.”

She is one of the first people to seem to see him as who he is and not who they expect him to be. He sighs, the tension leaving him. May lets him go and steps back, but her gaze is still there, sure and gentle.

“Thanks,” he says softly. It’s one word and not enough, but he hopes she knows how much he means it.

“Peter!” She calls over her shoulder. The kid appears around the corner, looking unsure. “I’m going to see Pepper and leave you boys to it.”

Tony’s head snaps up.

“Wait,” Peter says, slightly panicked. May gives him a steady look, with raised eyebrows. Before they can register any additional protests, she’s gone.

It’s quiet while they both get their bearings. After spending so long avoiding Peter, Tony feels surprisingly calm in the kid’s presence. He takes a breath.

“You’re aunt is really good at dealing with down and out superheroes, huh?”

Peter smiles a bit. “She’s had a lot of practice, honestly.”

Tony nods at that, not really trusting himself to speak. Uncertainty eats at him. He’s not sure what exactly the kid is expecting.

“How are you feeling?” Peter asks politely.

“Fine. And how are you?” Tony squints at the kid. “You-Young Buck.” He pushes off the floor and rolls back to fumble around with more tools.

Peter laughs, studiously still avoiding eye contact. “It’s okay, Mr. Stark. I know you don’t remember me.” The kid’s fingers dance over items on the work table before settling on a gauntlet prototype.

“Hey, don’t touch the merchandise.”

The kids hands jerk back at the rebuke. “Oh, sorry. It's just that I was helping you with this one.” Peter folds his arms, stuffing his hands under his armpits. “‘M sorry.”

Tony feels like he’s kicked a puppy and he doesn’t much like the feeling. He starts trying to fill the awkward space with words.

“So do I, like, help you with your homework?” he wonders.

“Um, sometimes. Mostly I do that myself, though.”

“Oh.”

Awkward silence fills up the space. It bothers Tony and so he keeps up with the questions.

“Anything else?”

“And sometimes we build stuff.” The kid is answering his questions but not really offering any extra information. It sparks a flash of frustration.

“Ok, help me out. I don’t really understand what this is?” He gestures between them.

The kid lifts his shoulders, “I don’t know, you help me with my suit, sometimes. We talk about ...stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“You know...life.”

Tony frowns, trying to imagine a world in which that worked.

Fortunately, Peter keeps talking, “I’m your mentee? Intern? Something. None of those really fit though. Brother in Arms?” The kid squints as if he’s trying the title on for size.

Tony chokes a bit. He’s been so focused on figuring out Peter Parker that he forgot that Spider-Man was a thing.

“And who am I to you?”

“You’re Mr. Stark,” the kid chirps unhelpfully.

“Ok, you’re not really helping manage expectations here.”

“I don’t have expectations? I just hang out with Tony Stark - you, now. And it’s fun.” The kid shrugs.

Tony stares at Peter’s face, willing himself to remember something. He sighs scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “I just can’t remember.” It’s a frustrating thing to admit; it feels like a failure.

‘Yeah.” The kid sounds resigned. He scuffs a shoe on the floor. Then Peter’s eyes come to rest on the glass case. ‘Proof that Tony Stark Has a Heart.’ It seems to make him pause. “2012,” he mumbles to himself and then spins on his heel toward Tony. It’s an unexpectedly elegant motion, the kid’s excitement barely contained.

“You remember the Hammer drones, right?”

“Yeah.” Tony can’t keep the sarcasm from lacing into his tone. “Kind of hard to forget.”

“Um, well.” As quickly as inspiration struck, it falters. The kid lapses into uncertainty. “You remember a kid in an Ironman helmet? About this tall? That was - that was me.”

Tony blinks, searching the memories he has left. “I did a lot of things that night, met a lot of people. Blew up a lot of things. It’s fuzzy.”

“Friday?” Peter calls excitedly, “Can you play the suit footage of the kid that nearly got shot by the drone at the Stark Expo. The one in the Ironman helmet?”

Tony grimaces at the description, his heart hamers out a few uncertain beats.

“I can try, Peter.”

The holographic picture appears. It's just as Peter described. A kid very nearly gets taken out before Ironman lands behind him and blows the drone to hell.

“Nice work, Kid,” Peter says along with the audio. He turns to Tony, excitement ramping up to new levels, if such a thing were possible. “It was so cool!”

Tony frowns because he can’t help noticing. “So, hoodie over a T-shirt, that’s your signature look then?”

Peter scowls back, holding up a hand in question. “ Really? That’s your takeaway?”

Friday interrupts them. “I’ve found some additional event footage matching the criteria.” She plays it without waiting for a cue.

It’s Tony, standing in a crowd. He’s schmoozing, like you do, but he catches sight of the ironman helmet and pats the kid on the head. The cameraman zooms in. It’s a quick, feel-good moment, but here on the other side, it seems of vast importance.

“I’ve never seen that before.” Peter says quietly, seeming as surprised as Tony.

“That’s you.” Tony marvels, He didn’t really remember before, but there’s something special about sharing the moment now.

“Yeah, that’s me. That was me. I never, um, told you before, because I thought it might upset you? So now seemed like a good time.” Peter turns to him and smiles. “So you do have a memory of me.”

Tony’s lips quirk up. “Very clever, Parker. I like it.”

Peter beams under the praise, and suddenly Tony’s world tilts, and he has a strong feeling like they've been here before. Affection and pride roll through his chest and he tries to chase that feeling back and anchor it to a memory. He’s so close - it’s like a forgotten word, right there, on the tip of his tongue. He strains to reach it, only to have a sharp pain take his breath away.

A steady hand lands on his shoulder.

“Mr. Stark? Are you ok? Please be ok.”

“Yeah.” It sounds strained to his ears. He sucks in a harsh breath. “I’m ok.” His voice is tight but the pain in his head is ebbing.

“I’m sorry.” Peter looks panicked and stricken.

Running on instinct, Tony rushes to reassure him. “It’s fine, I’m fine. Maybe just need to rest a bit.”

Peter eases Tony back on the stool, one hand resting on his back. The kid steps back. “You scared me.”

Scared me too, Tony thinks. He takes a deep breath.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m ok.”

“I can walk you back to your rooms?” The kid offers, but the set of his jaw says that he’s coming along no matter what Tony says.

Tony laughs as he stands up. “I’m a little old for a chaperone.”

“Think of it more as an assist, from Spider-Man.” Peter smiles, but his eyes are serious.

They make it out of the lab with no problems, and arrive back at Tony's living quarters. No one else is around.

“Should I stay?

“I’m fine, kid, go grab a snack or something.”

“I’ll just go find May.” Peter turns to leave.

“Thanks, Pete,” Tony says sincerely, and the kid looks back at him sharply, but not finding what he’s looking for in Tony’s eyes, turns and walks away.

Once alone, Tony doesn’t rest. He roams the rooms restlessly. He’s not sleepy, he’s antsy. Again, he tries to push at the wall of memory.

“Jar-“ No, it’s Friday now. No more JARVIS. He’s seen the news clippings about the destroyed house in Malibu. It doesn’t seem real, though. It’s like he’s walking through a dream, or someone else’s life.

“Friday.” He chokes on the name a bit. He thought he’d gotten past that. “Bring up the highlight reel.”

There’s a soft chime and he’s surrounded by pictures.

He flips through some of the recent snapshots. There’s Pepper and Rhodey, Peter and a Tony he doesn’t fully recognize. The man’s hair is longer and his smile is easy. He’s less polished but...more loved? Was that a thing? He swallows, banishing the images with a wave of his hand.

“Pull up the family album circa the 1980s,” He orders.

Instantly, dozens of thumbnails appear. He opens one. Howard stands outside the new Stark Industries building. He’s surrounded by a crowd of happy faces. Tony’s mother, Maria, stands nearby, beaming. Tony is nowhere to be seen, of course.

His eyes trace the stern lines of his father’s face. Nothing about Howard had been relaxed or warm. At least not by the time Tony came along.

His gaze is drawn to the silent, smiling man standing behind Howard. Emotion chokes him and he swallows the thick lump. He doesn’t think there's a universe where he could do Edwin Jarvis justice, but maybe.

“Pack it in, Friday.”

The pictures vanish as if they’d never been there. Tony drops down onto the burgundy sofa, mind racing. His stomach growls before he can get too deep into his own head.

He checks the mini fridge, but nothing there looks appetizing. Plus, he’s feeling like he’d love some company about now.

Mind whirling with new thoughts, he steps out into the hall.

“Hey Stark.”

He jolts, “ Jeezus, Nat.” He clutches his chest, “I’m apparently not as young as I used to be.”

Her lips quirk up. “Giving Steve a run for his money.”

They fall into step together. Tony’s not sure where they’re going but he feels the need to move.

“I know you, Stark, so I have to ask. Did you read about it?”

He goes for coy. “About what?”

She catches his elbow. “About us. The Avengers. Did you read it all?” Her expression is concerned. He recognizes that she’s worried this is about to kick off another round.

“This morning.” He sighs. He could try to lie, but she’d see right through him. His hands slip into the pockets of his athletic pants.

“And Barnes,” she presses.

Tony’s jaw tightens. “I read that, too, but I couldn’t watch the video.” He feels numbness starts to creep up his left arm.

“Don’t,” she says simply.

They silently agree to abandon that topic, and Tony can feel the stress recede.

“What about the rest of it? Ultron? What about Vision?”

That name raises its own pang. “I try, but I can’t remember any of it. Sorry to disappoint.” Tony can feel the cold smile, brittle on his lips.

“Maybe I’m hoping that you won’t.” Her confession spills out on a hopeful breath.

He blinks, knowing his questions are written all over his face.

“Wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” She shrugs, a rueful smile tugging at her lips.

“Excuse me, are you telling me that you hope I continue suffering from amnesia? ”

“Look, the fallout from the Accords? It wasn’t our best moment. A lot of mistakes were made.” She lets out a resigned breath. “To start over with a clean slate...maybe we can fix it. It won’t be the same, but it’ll be ours.”

Tony isn’t about to start making promises he can’t keep. “Listen, I’ll try. No guarantees.”

“There never is in this business.” Nat’s smile is bittersweet. “See you around, Stark.” She gently punches his arm.

“Yeah, yeah, of course you will. It’s still technically my building.”

She smiles but doesn’t respond to that. “Tell Junior I said hello.”

He sighs but he’s through fighting on that count. “I’ll tell him.”

After she leaves, Tony considers. Maybe it is time to stop worrying about the memories he’s lost and time to start working on building new ones. He weighs his options.

“Hey Friday, where’s Pep?”

“She’s currently in conference room E with May and Peter.”

“Tell them I have dinner on the way and I’ll meet them in the lounge on 2.” He pulls out his phone and sends out a couple of texts. While he’s doing that, he calls instructions up to the AI.

“Friday, order me some pizzas. Eight or so, toppings of your choice. Except no pineapple - it’s an affront to nature.” He pauses and rethinks it. “Maybe one pineapple, for Pepper.” God, the things he’ll do for that woman.

“On it, Boss.”

“Give me an ETA?”

“Thirty minutes by drone.”

“Perfect.”

He collects the pies when they arrive. He can’t see over the stack, so it’s lucky he knows where he’s going. He has a minor snag trying to open the glass doors to the lounge, but he does it.

There’s a stretch of counter for a coffee bar and he sets up shop there. He gets the pies sorted by topping, but holds on to the offending Hawaiian one.

Pepper and May arrive, chatting softly and carrying drinks, plates, and a few napkins. Tony helps them unload before dropping the Hawaiian pizza into Pepper’s arms.

“Is this for me?”

“Yes, and it has pineapple, so I didn’t want it contaminating the others.” He smiles at her and she looks back at him with a face that’s distinctly unimpressed. Tony relaxes, starting to feel more normal than he has in days.

“This looks good,” May murmurs, taking a slice.

Tony is reaching for his own plate when he realizes someone is missing.

He frowns and looks around. “Where’s the kid?”

“He beat us here.” May gestures to the silver couch in front of the window.

Tony turns and is surprised to find the kid sprawled out, headphones in, watching videos…of himself as Spider-Man. Tony can admire that kind of benign self-interest; he’s done the same thing. Wait - has Peter been here the whole time? Tony rolls his eyes.

“Hey kid!” He calls but gets no response. “Peter? Pete!” His volume is going up but the kid isn’t hearing him, so he whistles.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Pepper jump, but it has its desired effect. Peter sits bolt upright. One earbud falls out and is deftly caught before it gets too far.

“Oh, hey, guys.” He hops to his feet, throwing his phone in his jean pocket. “I thought I smelled pizza.”

“And he’s back with us,” Tony quips. “Come eat, it's hot.”

The kid’s eyes rove over the spread. “Can I have like one of each? You know just to start?” He looks hopeful.

“Start with three.” May says firmly.

“Three Supreme?” Peter wants to know.

“Of course.” Tony grabs a plate and tosses it like a frisbee. The kid catches it with his fingertips.

“Do you want a slice of Hawaiian, sweetie?” Pepper holds out the box.

“Um, no thank you.” He winces a bit but is thoroughly polite.

Pepper takes no offense. “Am I seriously the only person here who likes it?” She glances around the room. “Not even you, Peter?’’

"Uh, all I'm hearing is that Pete is a man with good taste,“ Tony observes, digging into his slice

“Who knew pineapple was so divisive.” Pepper tosses the box on the counter. “More for me then.” She takes a big bite, staring Tony in the eyes.

The door swings open, “Hey, pizza party!” Rhodey calls as he makes his entrance. “Is there a reason you wanted me to bring these?” He drops a stack of Uno cards next to a box.

Tony swallows. “That’s for later, platypus. Pizza first.”

After dinner, they gather around a small table, Peter is flanked by May and Tony. Rhodey sits to Tony’s right, and Pepper fits nicely between Rhodey and May.

“Ok, rules are you can stack your penalty cards,” Tony starts as he shuffles.

“That’s not in the rules.” Peter scoffs.

“My rules,” Tony amends, arcing the cards in a frankly impressive bridge. He deals out seven cards apiece and they all spend a moment organizing their deck.

Things progress in the usual manner until Peter gets down to four cards.

"Are you really sure you want to throw down a draw 4 on Iron Man." Tony wonders aloud after the kid tosses the card on the pile.

"I am posi I want to throw this card down on Tony Stark."

"The suit and I are one." Tony smirks,. Beside him, Rhodey scoffs.

Peter rearranges his cards, looking completely unbothered. "Okay, well, ‘The Suit and I’ can go ahead and draw 4."

“I’m glad you don’t play poker,” Tony mutters, taking his cards.

Rhodey plays his card and doesn’t even try to hide his gloating.

Pepper reverses it all and Tony is glad he gets to play some of his fistful, and that the kid has to draw one.

May cautiously draws a card. “Oh, somebody have a reverse?” She side eyes Peter.

“Oh come on!” The kid grouses, but he’s smiling.

“Sorry,” Pepper says, throwing a green eight on the pile.

“I got you, May.” Rhodey tosses down a green reverse.

Pepper plays a two. Tony notices her hand is growing smaller and narrows his eyes. She smiles sweetly back at him, but there’s a fire in her eyes.

Peter gets to draw two and Tony gets rid of a green seven. They continue around the table until they’re back to the kid.

“I dunno.” Peter pretends to think about it. “How about you draw four more?” He says to Tony.

“House rules!” Tony crows and tosses down another draw four on top of the pile. “Draw eight, Honey Bear.”

“Man, I’m gonna give you another concussion,” Rhodey mutters, pulling eight cards from the deck.

Happy wanders in and digs around in the pizza boxes. He pulls up a chair between May and Peter and watches them play while he eats.

After his next turn, Tony wraps a hand around his cards and shifts in a way to catch Peter’s attention. The kid’s eyes fly to him, then widen.

“Uno! You didn’t say Uno!” Peter exclaims, pointing.

Tony grins and flips the second card out from where he’s hidden behind the first.

“Nooo!” Peter yells. He grabs his hair and drops his head on the table. “I fell for it again!” Beside him, May laughs. It’s an open, bright thing.

Tony can’t help his own unrepentant grin.

“Old trick, kid,” Rhodey advises, doling out the four penalty cards to Peter. “Remember, he likes to play dirty.”

A swell of contentment rolls over Tony. He can’t remember where he was a year ago, but that seems less important right now than it had even a few hours ago. He could maybe get used to this.

---

Five weeks later, Tony and Pepper have moved back to the city for a while so Tony can regain his bearings. They’ve been hashing out a new normal for them. It’s not the same, he doesn’t think, but they're working on it.

It’s all going to plan until an extraterrestrial threat shows up in the Bronx. The Avengers take the call. The Avengers, minus Tony. He still hasn’t been medically cleared, so he’s stuck inside and out of the action. He tries arguing, but no one is sympathetic.

Friday has the live feed displayed on the giant TV screen in the penthouse living room. He can see Clint and Steve. Nat’s there and so is Vision. His agitation increases. He pulls up a map of the battle and instructs Friday to update it in real time.

Tony paces through the penthouse. His brain itches. That means it’s healing, he hears echoes of Edwin Jarvis.

“Tony, sit down,” Pepper orders, and he does, dropping down heavily on the edge of the white sofa.

But what if something happens? What if something goes wrong and he’s the only one left? He can’t say why, but the thought terrifies him. A scarlet and blue figure swings into the fray on the screen and Tony’s anxiety ratchets up several notches.

He stands suddenly. “I need a suit.”

“Absolutely not,” Pepper counters, rising with him.

“Sorry, Hon.” He’s already on his way down to his workshop.

“Tony, you can’t go,” she calls after him “You still have a head injury!” He can hear her heels clicking on the floor behind him.

He spins to meet her. “I have to go!” He’s shouting, panicked, unsure why he feels so adamant. She steps onto the elevator with him. They argue all the way down.

He steps off the elevator, shouting, “I have to be there!”

“Why?” She yells back.

He throws his arm up just as the first piece of suit slams into place. “I don’t know! I just, I gotta.”

Pepper knows a lost cause when she sees it. She steps back and the suit swallows him up.He gives her a last look before the face plate closes, her mouth is tight but her eyes are resigned. Guilt bites at him.

He leaves anyway.

He lands on the ground in Mott Haven, in the South Bronx. A red, screeching alien, immediately rushes up to him. He blasts it across the road with a well-timed repulser blast.

“What have we got, Fri?”

“Roclites. They possess superhuman strength.”

“But there are flying ones, too, right?” Tony looks up, scanning the sky. He lifts off the ground, intent on joining the action.

“Yes, the Rhunisians. They are equipped with the power of flight and they have tentacles.”

“Great,” he bites out. He catches sight of the Falcon guy going toe to toe with one of the beings. He moves to assist, barreling into its side and knocking it down where an arrow punches through it.

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” The voice comes over the coms, all youthful exuberance.

He turns in his hover, finally seeing Spider-Man waving on top of an apartment building below.

“Oh hey, Kid!” He calls back. “Watch out for these things, they have a radius -”

He doesn’t get the words out before a tentacle lashes out and knocks the kid off the rooftop.

“Kid!”

The scarlet and blue body goes flying through the air in a wide arc. It’s like lightning hits his brain; a memory flashes into focus. Airport. Germany. Underoos.

“Peter!” He yells over the coms, not even aware he’s screaming. Another memory snaps into focus.

“Hi, I’m Peter.”

“And then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.”

Suddenly, it all comes rushing back. It’s like Tony’s been under water this whole time and is finally breaking the surface.

“Oh,” he breathes as worlds explode back into being behind his eyes.

“Stark? You ok?” He hears Nat call out.

“Tony?” Steve shouts. “ Do you have eyes on Spider-Man?"

He twists in the sky.

Peter hits the ground, but it takes the kid only a second to roll onto his back and pivot up into a crouch. A focused tilt of his head, and he throws himself back into the fray.

Tony tracks him through the fight, Steve and Rhodey flank the kid. One high and one low. It warms Tony’s heart.

A Roclite goes after Steve and when Peter tries to intervene, he’s hurled face first into the concrete for his efforts.

“Peter?” Tony calls over the com and gets no answer.

He slams down onto the pavement beside the kid.

“Oh um, hey Mr. Stark. Glad you’re here.” Peter staggers to his feet. His suit is ripped but nothing appears broken. The kid is busy trying to twist away and get back to the fight when Spider-Man’s eyes narrow suddenly, and he’s stumbling back toward Tony. “Wait, should you be here? Does Ms. Potts know?”

Tony rolls his eyes under his own mask. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

He pulls the kid into a nearby alley. If Tony notices the kid dragging his feet, he doesn’t stop to lecture him.

The fingers of the Ironman suit find the seam of the Spider-Man mask and he gets it just above Peter’s nose, which is bleeding freely.

“Hey, look at me.” Tony pins him with a look, cutting off any argument.

“I’m fine.” Peter tries to gently twist out of Tony's grip. “You don’t have to-"

“Hold it, Underoos.” Tony says firmly and tips Peter’s head back. There’s blood caked under his nostrils. “Broke it again, I see.”

Peter pulls away, pulling the mask back down. He’s edging back toward the battle when what Tony says finally registers.

“Hey, wait. You, uh, you said Underoos. Do you-” Peter steps forward, all grace and uncertainty.

Tony flips the faceplate up so the kid can see his eyes. “Yeah, hey, Pete. Guess who?”

Peter tears the mask completely off then, his eyes finding Tony’s and searching them.

Tony waggles his eyebrows. Peter doesn’t smile. He looks down and when his face comes up, his eyes are rimmed in red. He wipes delicately at his still bleeding nose.

“Hey, Kiddo,” Tony says softly. He has only a second to prepare before the kid flings himself into Tony's armor for a hug. He squeezes until Tony hears the mechanical joints creak and finds he doesn’t actually care because he’s squeezing back. All the emotions both old and new swirl together, it’s a little overwhelming.

The kid finally lets go and steps back. “I missed you,” he says thickly.

Tony gives an elegant, armored shrug. “Yeah, I missed me, too.”

Peter laughs, grinning unabashedly, and Tony can’t help but answer.

“Tony? Peter?” Steve's voice rings out over the coms. “Where are you? Do you need back up?”

“Duty calls. Be careful out there, Kid.” Peter yanks his mask back over his head.

The kid tosses up a couple of webs and launches himself skyward. Tony watches him go, lingering behind. After all, he’s not technically supposed to be here in the first place.

There’s a sound behind him in the alley and he spins to meet it, repulsers up. Hawkeye drops out of a vent and down to the street. They stare at each other.

“Like. A. Sack. Of. Potatoes.” Clint enunciates each word, staring into Tony’s eyes.

Tony flips the mask down and succinctly raises a metal gloved finger, flipping Clint off.

Hawkeye notches another arrow and grins. “Good to have you back, Stark."

Ironman fires his thrusters and takes to the sky.