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From across the battlefield, wrecked with sounds of weapons and chaos, his eyes meet Tony's.
Peter sees the resignation in those eyes, a weariness that weighs him down as cold determination flits across his gaze. His face twists, morphing into something entirely raw and powerful.
Then, his arm raises. A gauntlet of nanotech forms, the stones beginning to embed into cold metal.
And Peter remembers Dr Strange's words, sees the way he lifts a single, trembling finger; a symbol of the end.
(it was the only way.)
Slowly, Tony stands, shaky yet no less regal, as the battles around him send a shower of debris toward his looming figure. It forms a halo of cinder and dust around him, painting the portrait of a fallen angel; eyes hard and fixed forward, armour crumbling and ready for death.
With a gauntlet on his arm and fury in his eyes, Tony Stark seemed untouchable.
And yet, amidst the destruction and chaos around him, Peter feels only numbness; a liberating sense of calm that washes over him like a cool spring breeze.
He swallows, shaking, heart dropping at the realisation he makes.
I cannot let Tony die.
"Karen," so he says instead. "You... You said that Mr Stark's nanotech suit was designed so that it could transfer parts of the armour to me? In case of emergencies?"
"Of course, Peter."
And Peter breathes, the last of his hesitation escaping through his lungs with another breath in, and then another breath out.
In the end, it seemed that even the odds were in his favour.
"Transfer the gauntlet over to me, then."
"...Peter, are you sure? To snap would mean—"
"Please."
(in 14, 000, 605 realities, how many of them do we win?)
He closes his eyes, tries to be brave, tries to pretend that he isn't terrified.
Inhale, exhale.
He lets the terror escape too.
(one.)
And Karen complies.
It happens in a split second.
The gauntlet forms, stones shimmering with absolute power, dimming the rest of the world in comparison.
Peter ignores the way he hears Tony's breathing hitch, ignores the way the glimmer of the stones only bring him dread.
He breathes, and ash fills his lungs as he raises a single arm. It suffocates, its vice-grip tightening as he curls his fingers in.
And then, swiftly—
(the world still needs ironman.)
He snaps.
(and i will make a reality that you never foresaw.)
An electric current surges through him in an instant, a supernova of emotion and pain coursing from the nanotech on his arm to the rest of his body.
It burns like liquid fire, acid in his veins as he screams, vision turning stark white.
Everything stops.
The world stills and silences, watching his illuminated form, power in his words as he wishes for the battle to stop.
For a moment, he wields the power of the gods.
And in the next, dust and ash begin to scatter.
Warriors crumble, one by one, disappearing at the plea of his mortal wish. They scream, crying out with hatred as stilted words spill forth between ragged breaths, haunting.
"What have you done?!"
"You fool! You ruined everything!"
"Thanos has fallen, but you shall too."
"How dare you?! ...How could you?"
One by one, dust escapes from their fingertips, their fates not unlike what had once been of his own demise.
Eventually, the last of them fade.
And the price to pay is far too great.
His body crumples, hitting the ground.
Peter breathes — ash fills his lungs, suffocating as the nanotech dissolves, revealing a mangled arm with fire lines trailing along his veins for everyone to see.
The world only watches on, with bated breaths and expressions so, so lost as he claws his way out of unconsciouness, clinging onto that flickering flame of hope.
They'd won.
And then—
"NO!"
An anguished cry pierces through the still air.
Peter's eyes meet Tony's once more, wide and aghast as he stumbles towards his ruined body and this time Peter can't help but smile.
It's a bruised one, tiny and fragile and weak, but no less relieved.
"We won, Mr Stark." His words come out slurred, yet sincere nonetheless. His eyes shine, hazy with pain, but it was alright, because Tony was safe, safe, safe—
And Tony swallows, his eyes welling with tears. There is a grief in them he recognises, he had once seen in the mirror everyday for years, after his parents, after Ben—
Tony replies with soothing words. "Yeah. Yeah, kid. You did a good job, Pete. A great one. Just- Just stay awake, alright? You're our hero, Peter. You can't fall asleep now."
" 'm kay." He agrees, and he tries. He really, really does, but still, the edges of his vision begin to dim, and slowly, Tony's mindless rambling becomes soft and muffled.
Peter only manages to hum in response, the world around him remaining muted as the static in his ears crescendos into something vaguely painful, so much so that he barely has any idea as to what he's even agreeing to.
But Tony only gathers him into his arms, burying his chin in Peter's hair as he continues to ramble on about something he can't quite catch. The words tether him to reality, soothing the noises in his head.
It's a nice feeling.
"Are we.. finally there?" he mumbles, blinking slowly as the fog in his vision clears slightly and he sees his mentor laugh, somewhat hysterically and fond and so, so sad, all at once.
"Yeah, kid. We are." The response is choked, but Peter doesn't mind. He hums in agreement again.
He breathes.
(ash and dust flood his lungs, his body burns, feeling like ice and fire as he tries and tries to just scream-)
" 'm... tired, Tony."
His mentor's breathing hitches.
"No, no, Peter. Don't fall asleep, okay? Stay awake. You're alright."
("you're alright." and he holds onto those words, even as his body crumbles and every part of him is screaming in pain-)
And though Tony stares at him with such sad, sad eyes, his eyelids get heavier and heavier.
He hates the thought of disappointing Tony, but his body refuses; he holds no control, unable to even listen to those desperate, pleading words.
Slowly, his breathing evens out. The world remains silent, colours blending into a muted grey as the remnants of pain his body had felt from the snap gradually begins to numb.
I'm going to die.
It's the first time he realises this, and it is met with an odd sense of detachment.
He's going to die lying on this dusty battlefield, five years ahead of his time, aching and cold and—
And he thinks of familiar school hallways, of cathartic decathlon practices, of Ned and MJ and May and Tony.
The panic finally, finally sets in.
Terror slams into him, and he's struck by so many wants that he will never get to have.
Peter breathes, thoughts stuttering and spiralling into that of desperation, before he's taking heaving breaths, and clinging onto his mentor's form.
"Please—" The word escapes as a sob, and he feels the arms around him tighten. Tony runs familiar fingers through his hair, soothing even as his own hands tremble, trying desperately to take away a pain that is not his own.
I don't want to die.
There is longing in that thought, and he thinks of comforting warm hugs that had felt like sunshine, of the playful banter in the labs, of the easy afternoons playing with Legos and answering questions by a buzzer—
Tony's expression crumples even further. He pleads. "I know, kid. God, I know. Please, please just stay awake."
And even though Peter still has so much to say (i want to live-), so many truths threatening to spill out (i'm so scared of dying), he doesn't say a word.
Not a single word.
Because beyond the fear, the frightening numbness and the wave of exhaustion that suddenly crashes over him, Peter Parker is kind.
And so, he manages a final smile, clasping trembling fingers around Tony's own.
(i don't regret it.)
Peter breathes, and pretends that he isn't so, so terrified, and knows that he is so, so, so, so loved-
"I love you all... so much..."
He whispers, even as his eyes begin to slip shut once more, and as he breathes, the ash in his lungs has almost completely left him drowning.
Peter only leans into that familiar, soothing presence, and Tony—
Tony only smiles, soft and kind and sad, resignation in his eyes as that smile eventually wavers and drops all the same.
There is a beat of silence, before he finally leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. Peter closes his eyes, and relishes in the comfort.
"...Yeah, kid. I know. You... You can sleep now, bud. I'll see you on the other side."
(i love you too.)
And Peter believes him.
He welcomes the darkness with open arms.