Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ross checked his reflection in the mirror as he adjusted his tie and smoothed his hair. He could not believe how good it felt to be clean, to be dressed in real clothes, not to have his nose filled with the stench of goat dung, and to not have the animals themselves sniffing around his feet while mosquitoes searched for bare skin to sink their teeth into..

He was in an empty apartment somewhere, though he had no idea where, nor did he know what had happened to the apartment's previous occupants. After the painful and stomach-twisting sensation of travel, he'd found himself in a bedroom, facing a window that gave a view of an anonymous city that could be anywhere in the world. He'd taken clothes from the closet, which seemed to be a good enough fit, and then had gone into the bathroom to scrub himself clean, which had taken a long time.

The difference between this place and where he had been was vast. He did not know how long he had spent on the accursed planet the Asset had dumped him on, but it had been long enough to incite a furious desire for revenge, the revenge Ego was going to enable him to achieve.

“What do I do?” he asked, making his way back into the bedroom and standing by the window. “When do we kill the Asset?”

“We cannot kill him yet,” she replied. “I already tried. The Infinity Stones have chosen him, betrayed me completely, so he is essentially immortal now unless they choose otherwise, which they will not. Even targeting him in a multitude of realities and times will not be enough. We have to go back to the beginning and change his path, change the circumstances, so he is not able to bear them.”

Ross sputtered. “I can’t kill him? But you know what he did to me!”

“ What he did to me was worse. He took The Infinity Stones out of my reach. My banishment lasted longer than you can ever imagine, and the ally I chose to free me failed. Thanos was given a mission, and he held The Stones in his hand, but he used them for himself, not for me. His petty desire to create balance doomed me to even longer in that place. I do not know how I was freed, as it was not Thanos, but I assume the child did something that weakened the barriers. That is not important. What matters is the opportunity I have now to change things.”

“Change what?”

“ The circumstances. The Infinity Stones found him Worthy, and I see in your mind when it happened. That is not only ridiculous, an insult, but it is also impossible. No one should be Worthy of them but me. Only I can bear them.

“Apparently not,” Ross muttered.

“What did you say?” The question was asked with a sharp spike of pain in his head, as if a nail was being driven into his skull.

“Nothing!” He panted through the pain. “I said nothing!”

“ Good. You would do better to say nothing in future, too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“ As you should be. I will not tolerate disrespect from you. Now, it is time to act. From what I have glimpsed in your mind, I can see that the child was formed by circumstance to be what The Stones wrongly perceived as Worthy. Your mission is to change that. You were in a position of power before, weren’t you?”

“I was the most powerful man in the world—The President of the United States!” Ross said proudly.

“ No, before that, before Thanos came, you felt powerful; I can see it in your memories.”

“I was, I suppose, as Secretary of State. But if you need me to be powerful, you’ve got to make me President again.”

“ No, that is not what I need. Your greatest power in the human world came from what followed Thanos, but the child was already gone then. I need you in a place in which he can be influenced and changed. Tell me, where do you think his power comes from?”

Ross didn’t know. He’d paid no attention to the Asset before he’d received that report from Wakanda. Spider-Man had barely been a blip on Ross’ radar. His targets had been The Avengers. All he knew was that Spider-Man was reported to have been in Germany when Stark and his team had battled Rogers’.

“ I need you to know. Find out.”

“How?” he asked. “I can’t exactly Google his origin story.”

“ No, but you can live it. I will take you somewhere you can change him and create a new path that will not lead him to The Stones. What makes him Worthy must be changed.”

“And what made him Worthy?”

“ Nothing, but I suppose in their eyes it was some form of purity and goodness of heart, some strength. I need you to break him.”

“How do I do that? He’s got The Infinity Stones now. I tried to break him before, but I failed!”

“ Which is why I will take you back, before The Stones, before Thanos. What was the crucial moment for you? Where did your power come from?”

Ross considered. “Before my election, my power came in 2016—May 3rd—when that usurper Ellis made me Secretary of State. Everything that followed was power.”

“ Then I will take you there. Your mission is power again, but not of the same kind. We are going to find the child, observe him, find what makes him strong.”

“And then what?”

“ Then we’re going to change the circumstances. I want him weak and insecure. I want him Unworthy. I want you to find a way to break him down completely.”

“Do I get to kidnap him again?” he asked hopefully.

“ No, not yet at least. As you have said, that failed before. You are going to find a different way to do it, a subtle way. Take his strength away. Make him weak for me. Put him in a position in which The Infinity Stones will never believe him Worthy of them. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“ Good. Then prepare yourself.”

Ross took a breath, closed his eyes, and then felt a rush of warmth spread over him. A voice reached him, and his name was spoken in a tone that indicated it wasn't the first time.

He opened his eyes and saw he was in a room that used to belong to him. President Matthew Ellis sat opposite him, the polished Resolute Desk of the Oval Office between them. “Thaddeus, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Ross said smoothly. “I am fine.”

“You seemed a little… Never mind. Do you have an answer for me? Will you accept, become my Secretary of State?”

Finally connecting where he was in time, knowing what it meant and what would follow, a broad smile spread across Ross' mouth, and he said, "Mr. President, nothing would give me more pleasure.”

He was in place, the devastation in Lagos was happening right now, and his path was clear ahead of him. He had the power he needed, though a more subtle kind now to what he’d had as President, and he would use that against the Asset. With fewer eyes on him than there had been when he had the most power, he could move in the shadows, find the right allies. He would play his part with The Avengers, put those events in place, and then find the Asset. 

He was going to break Spider-Man. 

Chapter Text

Rhodey's eyes cracked open, and he checked the clock beside the bed, groaning when he saw what the time was. He'd slept past nine, and he was supposed to have switched out with Wanda and Vision at eight to sit with Peter. They all took turns during the night, breaking the hours into shifts so they all got enough sleep, with Tony taking his shifts on alternate days from midnight until four so that he could see Morgan to bed and spend some time with Pepper before moving to the sleeper chair beside Peter's bed.

There were doctors on duty all night, so Peter was always under expert care, but they all liked to have one of his family to be with him, just as they had for the two weeks since Peter came home, gravely injured. If he woke, when he woke, they wanted a familiar face to be the first thing he saw.

Helen and her colleagues didn't expect Peter to wake yet, not judging from the activity they saw on the scans and EEG, though his state of unconsciousness was not as deep now as it had been in the beginning; he reacted to pressure pain, and he sometimes triggered the vent as he took over breathing for himself.

He was recovering; slowly but surely, Peter was coming back to them.

Rhodey sat on the edge of the bed and said, “Friday, can you apologize to Wanda and Vision for me? And tell them I’m on my way now.”

“Wanda and Vision have already been relieved,” she reported. “Captain Rogers took over for them after his morning run.”

“That’s good. Tell him I’ll be there soon.”

He went into the bathroom and hurried through his morning shower, then stood in front of the mirror to shave and brush his teeth. Done, he dressed and made his way into the kitchen, intending to grab a coffee and quick bite to eat, and found Bruce at the table with a huge bowl of scrambled eggs in front of him, which he was working his way through with a fork that looked ludicrously small in his huge hand.

“Morning,” he said cheerfully, flashing Rhodey a smile. “Late night?”

“Not really,” Rhodey said, running a hand over his face. “I just slept through my alarm.”

Bruce nodded knowingly. “You probably needed the sleep. You’ve been running yourself ragged. Everyone has.”

"You included," Rhodey pointed out.

Bruce's lips quirked into a smile. "True. But we've all got to do better. We're no good to Peter if we burn out. We've got the best team of medics in the country looking after him, all experts in their fields and all trained in treating enhanced humans. He’s in good hands."

“I know,” Rhodey said, a touch defensively. "It's just hard when he's a kid and he's so hurt to trust someone else to be there."

Bruce considered a moment then said, “You’re not wrong; we all feel it. But this is about the long game. The science says it’s going to be a while until he’s back with us properly, so we’ve got to treat it like a marathon, not a sprint.”

“That’s easier to say when you forget he’s got a little sister that has no idea what’s happened to him and that can’t understand why he’s not come home yet. And…” he added pointedly, “we’ve got a huge threat on the horizon that he’s the best person to face.”

Bruce's face fell. "I know. Tony says he's confident she… it… whatever you call Nemesis, isn't going to strike yet, so we have time."

“We hope, but we’ve no idea how and when she’ll strike. If she comes for him again now, he’s helpless. He’s protected all of us, but he couldn’t protect himself from being crushed.”

“I know,” Bruce said, a shadow of worry on his face.

Rhodey waved a hand and said, “I’m going to head over to see him.”  

He poured coffee into a travel mug, grabbed a protein bar from the cupboard, and carried both out of the room, through the corridors to the med bay. He took quick bites of the protein bar as he walked so that he was crumpling the wrapper and stuffing it in his pocket when he reached Peter’s room and entered.

It was busier there than he’d expected, Natasha sitting on the table across from Peter's bed with a Stark Pad in her hands, which she was scrolling through and apparently picking a song as a few lines would play before she shook her head and changed it. Steve was on the sleeper chair, and Bucky was sitting on the end of Peter's bed, a book open on his lap, which he stopped reading aloud from when Rhodey came in.

“Look who’s finally awake, bud,” he said, squeezing Peter’s ankle.

“Morning, Pete,” Rhodey said, crossing to the bed, patting Peter’s hand then pulling up a seat beside Steve. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good,” Steve reported. “His heart rate was stable all night, which makes it twenty-four hours. Everything else is okay, and…” He grinned. “Check this out.”

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Tony called from the door, rushing in with a green smoothie in one hand and a plated sandwich in the other. “I want to show him." He set down his drink and plate, crossed to Peter's bedside to kiss his cheek and greet him, then gestured Bucky off the bed.

“Show me what?” Rhodey asked.

“Watch,” Tony said with an enigmatic smile.

He pulled back the blankets from Peter’s feet and tugged off the fluffy white sock from his left foot. With a wink and grin at Rhodey, he ran his fingertip from Peter’s heel to toes, frowned, and then did it again with a little more force and a muttered, “Come on, kid. Don’t let me down.”

Rhodey gasped then grinned as he saw what Tony was showing him. Peter’s toes were twitching slightly in response to the pressure. “His spine is healing!” he said, wonder and relief rushing through him.

“Yep,” Tony said smugly, putting Peter’s sock back on and covering his feet. “They spotted it on checks last night. It’s getting stronger.” He patted Peter’s knee. “He’s rocking it.”

Rhodey gave a shaky and exhilarated laugh. He’d had nightmares about Peter’s spinal injury not healing.

Though Rhodey lived a full life with his injuries, fuller than he ever could have imagined thanks to Tony’s inventiveness, he’d not wanted to see Peter tethered to braces to walk. This, the first sign that he really was going to heal all the way, took a huge weight off of Rhodey’s chest.

Bucky moved back to the end of the bed as Tony perched beside Peter and placed a hand on his shoulder in a way that looked both comforting and proprietary.

“How’s Morgan and Pepper?” Rhodey asked.

A small frown line appeared between his brows. “Morgan’s getting impatient. She wants me to call Peter and tell him to come home. We’ve told her he’s out of cell service, but she doesn’t understand why I can’t just use Friday to find him. She misses him.”

“We all do,” Steve said quietly.

Though Peter was there technically, and had reached out to Tony in his dreams twice, it wasn’t the same. They couldn’t talk to him properly nor share anything that was happening around him. It was like Peter was in an impenetrable bubble, even when they were at his side, holding his hand.

Helen walked into the room, took in Tony and Bucky on the bed, and said, “You know we’ve talked about this before, both of you. If Peter was to have an emergency—”

“We’d be off and out of the way in a heartbeat,” Tony said. “Until that happens, if it does, we’re going to be close.”

She sighed and said, “I see there’s no point arguing. I have good news, though. The swelling in Peter’s brain is now resolved and is showing no signs of increasing pressure again, so we’re going to replace the skull section today. It won’t be a long surgery, only an hour, and he’ll be less vulnerable after.”

There were murmurs of relief, and Tony gave Peter’s hand a squeeze.

“Good work, bud,” Bucky said.

“And…” she went on, “we’re going to try weaning him off the ventilator. He’s triggering it frequently on his own, so we know he can. We’ll start by slowing the ventilator and seeing if he takes over. If that goes well, we’ll remove the tube and let him take over for himself on supplemental oxygen.”

Rhodey bowed his head and let out a huge breath. There was so much good news for them now; Peter was doing so well. Rhodey was proud of him for what he’d achieved already. It was these signs that showed he was fighting hard to come back to them.   

“We need a little time to prepare the OR, but someone will be in to give Peter his pre-op meds soon, so take your time with him while you can.”

She nodded and then slipped out of the room, leaving all gathered feeling lighter than they had for weeks.

"I'll go tell the others," Natasha said, getting to her feet and making for the door. She stopped on the threshold, and they moved back as the heart monitor beside the bed began to speed. Tony and Bucky jumped off of the bed, and everyone moved away to allow the medics access to Peter.

“It’s okay, Pete,” Tony said, tone soothing, though his face was frantic. “You’re fine.”                                                                                                                             

Peter's back arched from the bed and there was a sick gagging and rasping sound, then Rhodey was thrown backward by a flooding green light. He hit the wall hard and dropped down to the floor. His roving eyes told him everyone in the room had suffered the same fate.

Peter’s voice screamed in his mind, frantic and scared, “You have to!”

Confused and scared, Rhodey looked around and saw that Tony, Bucky, Natasha, and Steve were wide-eyed, and their faces were frozen in what looked like pain, and then, in unison, they collapsed sideways, crumpling to the floor with green light rippling over them.

“What happened?” Helen asked, racing through the door and going straight to Peter’s bedside to examine the machines which were still frantically beeping. More medics flooded in and rushed to Peter, some casting concerned looks at Tony, Steve, Bucky, and Natasha, who were all unconscious.

Rhodey looked between Tony’s slack form and Peter’s face, and said, “I have no idea what he did. It was green…”

“It was what?” Helen asked.

Rhodey raked a hand over his face. "I don't know…" His voice came weakly. "I don't know what he did."

Though from the light he’d seen and the Stone he knew that color applied to, he thought his friends might have just been sent away from him in time to do whatever it was Peter meant with that mental scream. “You have to!”

Have to what?

Chapter Text

Steve jolted as though given an electric shock, and he sucked in a huge and shaky breath. His heart was racing, and his body felt like it had been immersed in icy water; the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck were standing on end.

Peter, his back arched and attached machines screaming, was gone, as were Bucky, Natasha, Tony, and Rhodey. He was no longer in the med bay—now in the cockpit of the Quinjet, whipping over the clouds and ocean below instead.

He’d either been jumped out of Peter’s room to here, or he’d lost time somehow.

“What happened?” he asked weakly, then raised his voice. “What happened?”

“Steve?” Sam’s voice called from behind him. “You okay?”

Steve set the jet’s controls on autopilot and walked into the back of the plane where Natasha, Wanda, and Sam were seated. They watched him cautiously, brows furrowing when he said, “Where’s Queens?”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “Queens? Uh… a borough in New York.”

Steve stared at him in shock and then pinched his arm hard. It hurt, which dispelled the idea this was a dream or hallucination.

“I… I don’t…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes and rose from her chair, came to grip his elbow, and led him back toward the cockpit. "Just breathe," she whispered.

Steve obeyed, feeling the deep breath he tried to draw battle against the panting rhythm he’d been unaware of falling into. She pushed him into the copilot’s seat, took the pilot’s seat, checked the controls and course, then turned to him and said, voice too low to be heard by the others. "Calm down, Steve."

“But, Nat, something’s happening!” he said desperately. “I wasn’t here!”

“I know,” she said. “Neither was I. But we’re here now, and we can’t freak them out.”

Steve blinked at her, hope stirring in his chest. “Queens?”

She nodded. “Peter Parker. Spider-Man. We were with him.”

Relief that he was not alone rushed through him, and he closed his eyes. “Thank god.”

"I don't think He's the one you need to be thanking. I think this is a Peter Parker-sponsored adventure."

Steve opened his eyes, nodded, and felt himself calming. He was a little embarrassed by how he'd reacted. True, it wasn't every day you found yourself jumping from your kid brother's bedside to the cockpit of a jet, but it wasn't the strangest thing to ever happen to him.

This was nothing compared to battling Thanos.

“And it’s not your first time with time travel,” Natasha said.

“Did I say that aloud?” he asked, then the meaning of her words reached him. “Wait, what? Time travel?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Steve, catch up. Look at me. Do I look like I did five minutes ago?”

Steve stared at her, taking in what she meant. There were none of the fine lines around her mouth of stress that had been there before; her hair was not blonde; her eyes were different, less burdened.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

She smirked. “Language.”

“How did this happen?”

“I thought we already went over that. Time travel. We were slammed with green light from the kid that’s in control of the Time Stone while he was having some kind of medical crisis.”

“Where are we then?” he asked.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Guessing from who we’re with and how they look, the course the jet’s on, we’re on our way back from Lagos.”

“On our way back? No!” He cursed again. “Why now? Why not before? We could have changed it.”

“You know Peter better than me. “Why do you think he would have chosen now?”

Steve massaged his temples, a tension headache building. “Queens would want us to change it, but I don’t know that we can. He changed our past when he came back to us, but that was him—he actually has The Stones. Whether or not we can… But if we can’t, why would he send us back at all?”

The last question was framed to himself, but Natasha answered. “I don’t know.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And now’s not the time to pick it apart. Wanda is a mess right now, she needs us. We’re heading home to a PR nightmare after what just happened. We’ve got to treat it like a mission.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know what the mission is. He said we have to do something. What do we have to do?”

"I’ve got no idea. Yet. The first thing we have to do is to find out if we're the only ones here. We were all thrown away from Peter: me, you, Tony, Rhodey, and Bucky. We could all have been sent here."

Steve’s breath caught. “Bucky! He’s in Romania. He’s alone. If it happened to him, he’ll be freaking out.”

"Don't underestimate him. He's probably handling it better than you. Just because he hasn't gone backward in time before, he's jumped ahead years with Hydra for each mission. You get yourself under control, get us back to the compound, then we'll start making calls."

Steve nodded and concentrated on calming himself, getting his mind behind the mission. “Yeah. Okay. Got it.”

Natasha patted his shoulder and started back toward the belly of the jet, then she stopped as Steve’s phone rang. He picked it up, recognizing that it was an outdated model—or perhaps a currently dated model; it was confusing with time travel. He checked the caller ID and said, “It’s Tony.”

“Since he didn’t call the last time we were going through this, I think that means we’ve just found someone else that was sent back. That’s good. Talk to him, tell him what’s going on.” 

Steve nodded, connected the call, and took a breath. “Tony…”

xXx

Head swimming, legs shaking, Tony's eyes cleared, and he took in his surroundings.

He was no longer in the med bay; he was in a long corridor in front of an elevator. Instead of the sounds of the machines jumping and screeching as Peter arched from the bed, there was a fierce voice speaking words he couldn't make out. Instead of the faces of his friends and son, there was a woman whose face, among others, had haunted his nightmares until the memory of his own son dying in his arms on Titan replaced all others.

His mind grappled to make sense of what was happening, how he was seeing what he was, and his hand snapped out automatically and caught the woman’s wrist as she reached into her purse.

“Sorry,” he said breathlessly as she flinched. “I don’t… What’s happening?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s happening? What’s happening is that I am going to tell you something and show what you took from me.”

Tony looked around again. “I know this,” he muttered. “This has happened already.”

She gave him a sharp glance and then went on with what he suspected was a well-rehearsed speech. “I work for the State Department. Human Resources. I know, it's boring, but it enabled me to raise a son. I'm very proud of what he grew up to be.”

She shoved the photo at Tony, and he looked down at the smiling face that had also visited him in his nightmares.

“His name was Charlie Spencer. You murdered him—in Sokovia. Not that it matters in the least to you. You think you fight for us. You just fight for yourself!”

Tony shook his head wordlessly. He was at a loss to know what to do.

The woman was still talking, her words rushing over him, “Who's going to avenge my son, Stark? He's dead, and I blame you…”

Tony shook his head to clear his reeling mind, took a deep breath, and said what he had not been able to say before when he was too overwhelmed to speak—not that he wasn't overwhelmed now. "I’m sorry. Believe me, I never intended for anyone to get hurt. Ultron was created to protect us all from harm. I know that means nothing to you, because people did get hurt, your son was killed. Nothing I can say or do will make that right. But I am so sorry, truly."

“It won’t!” she snapped. “Nothing will ever be right for me again! Your words are meaningless!”

Tony opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, she had turned and marched away, head held high but shoulders shaking with sobs.

The elevator door opened, and Tony walked inside, his head swimming with shock and confusion. With numb fingers, he fumbled for his phone in his pocket and pulled it out. As soon as he tapped the phone to life, Friday spoke up. "Boss, are you okay? I am detecting an increased heart rate and disrupted oxygen levels."

Tony took a deep breath, feeling the air flooding his lungs, and he said, “Friday, where am I?”

“You are at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. You were here to give a speech, which you have now done."

“I’ve done this, though,” he muttered to himself.

“Yes, you have given your speech. Has the confusion over Miss Potts' attendance distressed you?”

“No, that’s not it. Okay, think… What’s the date?”

“It is May 3rd…" Friday replied

“But what…” He couldn’t believe he was asking this question. “What year is it?”

“2016, Boss. Do you need to see a doctor? Would you like me to call for assistance?”

“No, no. I just need to think.”

It was 2016, which meant Peter had sent him back in time; either that or he was having some kind of psychotic episode. The fact he’d been slammed with green light made him think time travel was more likely. But why would Peter do that? Why did Peter want him to be in 2016?

He took another breath and tried to think around his shock, going over what had happened. He’d not been alone when the light had hit. Rhodey, Steve, Bucky, and Natasha were with him.  Were they sent back, too?

“Friday, put in a call to Rhodey,” he instructed.

He brought the phone to his ear and waited as it rang. Rhodey picked up after four rings and said, voice terse, “Tone, this isn’t a good time.”

“It’s not for me either,” Tony said, running a hand through his hair. “Tell me he did it to you, too.”

“Tell you what? Look, I’ve got to be in front of the General in a minute for a War Machine report. I’ll call you back, okay?”

“Sure, okay. One more thing—if I said Peter to you, would you know who I’m talking about?”

“No. What’s going on?” His voice was concerned now.

“I’m trying to figure that out. I’ll call you later.

“Tony, talk to me. Are you okay?”

“I will be… I think. I’ll call you later.”

Before Rhodey could say another word, Tony ended the call and instructed Friday to call Steve, his next possible companion for this misadventure.

Steve picked up after only a few rings, and his voice was wary. “Tony…”

“Steve, if I said Peter to you, what would you think?”

There was a crackle on the line as Steve sighed. “I’d think Queens. Oh, thank god. Me and Nat are here, too.”

Tony closed his eyes, absorbed the relief, and said, “Rhodey’s not, though, and he was in the room with us.”

“Bucky was with us too, but we’ve no idea if he’s back. I’ve not got a number for him. I’m not sure what to do. You know when we are, right?”

“Yeah. 2016. You’re in Lagos.”

“Afraid not. We’re on our way back now. We came too late to change it.”

Tony cursed. “So that’s not what we’re here for. But we’ve got to do something. Pete said it, and he wouldn’t have done this otherwise, not without a damn good reason.” Tony grappled to work out what they needed to do next, but his mind was disobliging. “We’ve got to check on Bucky. If you’re on your way home from Lagos now, it means the eyes of the world are on you. You can’t go after Bucky without risking being followed. And… Shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Ross,” Tony spat. “It was on the morning news. He’s just been made Secretary of State. He’s going to be coming for us with The Sokovia Accords. We’ve got to be so careful. We can’t give him an excuse to lock us up, and he can’t find Bucky.”

“Damn. Okay. But we can’t leave Bucky alone. You’ll have to go to him. Ross won’t be watching you yet; he’s going to be focused on us after what happened. Get to Bucky, find out if he’s back, too. If he isn’t… I don’t know what to do. If we leave him out there, he’s at risk when Zemo sets him up. We’ve got so much to do, Tony.” His voice was taut with stress.

“I know, but we can do it,” Tony said, sounding far more confident than he felt. “I’ll go straight to Bucky now. You guys get back to the compound and lay low. We’ve got to—”

He stopped and took a breath. Thoughts of what they were facing and the state they’d left Peter in were starting to overwhelm him again.

“Baby steps, Tony,” Steve said, voice calmer now. “Get to Bucky and bring him back to the compound. We’ll hide him there. Whatever else happens, we need to be together. I know you’re freaking out about Queens, I am, too, and you know Bucky is if he’s here, too. But he’s alone.”

“Pete looked so bad, Steve,” Tony said quietly. “What’s happening to him.”

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted “But right now, we can’t do anything to help him. We’ve got to take care of each other. Peter is trusting us to do something important enough to send us seven years into our past, and when we’re together, we can work out what it is and how we do it so we can get back there and take care of him ourselves.”

"Yes," Tony said, seizing on Steve's steadiness. "We'll do it."

“We will. Call when you find Bucky. If he’s back, too, he’s going to know why you’re there. If not…”

“If not, he’s not going to stop and listen to me; he’s going to run, and that’ll put him at risk.”

There was a heavy sigh on the line, and Steve said, "Then you have to find a way to lock him down until I can talk to him and explain. Don't let him run. I know you can do this, Tony."

“Not without risking hurting him.”

Steve’s voice was pained as he replied. “Then hurt him. Go in the suit. It’s what we’ve got to do for Bucky’s own good and Queens'."

Tony nodded, though Steve couldn’t see it. He could lock Bucky down without hurting him too much if he was smart about it, and whatever happened, Bucky was tough and would heal. As little as he wanted to hurt his friend, it might be what he had to do. This was about protecting him from worse.

And it was about Peter.

Peter had hurt himself to send them here, wanting them to do something, and they would. They had to. Whatever Peter needed from them, it was obviously important, and Tony would not let his son down again.         

xXx

Bucky struggled to his feet and looked around. He recognized where he was at once: the kitchen of the apartment in Bucharest he’d hidden in before Steve found him., He could hear the street sounds outside, and the radio was playing a song he’d not heard in years.

He placed a hand on his heaving chest and tried to make sense of what was happening.

The song came to an end, and the DJ's accented voice said, "We have breaking news of the situation in Nigeria. It has been confirmed that Wanda Maximoff has caused the death of twenty-six people, eleven of whom were relief aid workers from the African nation of Wakanda, during an Avengers operation in Lagos. There is outcry from around the world and calls upon the United Nations to take action.”

Bucky sucked in a breath and checked the calendar on the wall on which he marked each day passing in an effort to ground himself in the present instead of in the past: in Bucky Barnes and not The Winter Soldier.

It was May 3rd, 2016.

Bucky’s legs gave way, and he dropped down on his lumpy couch. He brought his hands to his hair to tug on the long strands. He felt utterly lost. He was seven years in his past, and he had no idea why. There had to be something Peter wanted him to do, but what could it be?

Bucky was a wanted man, hiding in Romania from the US Government, who wanted him captured and tried for his crimes. It was bigger than just the USA. Governments and law enforcement the world over had a vested interest in bringing in The Winter Soldier, as his crimes for Hydra were not limited to US soil.

And he was alone.

“What do I do, bud?” he asked the empty room. “What do you need?”

He half expected Peter to appear, rainbow eyes sympathetic to the plight he'd left Bucky in and answers ready for him. No one appeared, though. He was alone in the small, dank apartment. The smells of the mici restaurant below him were permeating through the floor, the busy street outside could be heard through the thin window, and the radio was still interspersing songs and music with updates from Lagos. It was reported that The Avengers had left the city and envoys from the US Government were flying in to help discuss what had happened and that Damage Control had been enlisted to deal with the clean-up. It was also announced that a statement from King T’Chaka was imminent.

“Why now?” Bucky asked. “Why not a day earlier, or a week?”

If Peter had timed the moment he was sending Bucky to a little better, he could have stopped all that death and damage coming into being. He wasn't sure how, as he didn't know what to do now either, but he might have had a chance. He could have averted the disaster in Lagos and saved those lives. Had Peter sent him too late intentionally, knowing that the incident had to happen through the knowledge of The Infinity Stones, or was he just throwing Bucky in time blindly and hoping his panicked  message made sense.

“You have to!”

What did Peter want from him?

One thing he knew was that whatever it was he needed to do, it wasn't here in Bucharest. He needed to get back to the USA, and that meant an uncomfortable journey. The safest way was for him to travel across Europe to the coast and then stow away on a freight ship across the Atlantic. That was how he'd gotten out of America two years ago. It had taken weeks, though, and he couldn't wait that long. Peter, the kid brother he would die for, needed something from him, something important enough to send him through time, so he had to get to him now.

That meant he was going to have to shed some of the gentle nature Peter had nurtured in him and resort to violence. He had no choice but to hurt people this time. He only hoped Peter forgave him when he found out.

Bucky had prepared for this eventuality, the need to flee, when he settled in Bucharest two months ago. He’d tracked various people and stolen and altered their ID cards for himself. This mission was going to require the role of Cristian Luca and his job as a baggage handler at Aurel Vlaicu International Airport.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, got to his feet, and said, "Okay, bud, I'm coming."

His belongings were always ready for him to move on in a moment if his cover was ever blown. His cash and IDs were stored in a pack under the floorboards, so he punched through the boards, grabbed the bag, and slung it across his back. All that was left to do was pull on the leather gloves, that hid both his flesh and titanium hand from sight, and his jacket. He checked himself in the mirror, pulled on a baseball cap that would cast a shadow over his face, and then walked out of the door and down the steps to the street.

His apartment was only five minutes’ walk away from the airport, chosen for location and cheapness—most people didn’t want to live close to the sound of planes taking off and landing if they had a choice. He strode along the streets, taking turns without needing to think, as he had practiced this route many times in case of exposure.

When he reached the airport, he took the ID from his pocket and pasted on a weary smile to play his role at the security gate. Luckily, it was relatively busy with an upcoming shift change, and he got in line behind a man with a buzz cut who was talking to someone on the phone about meeting for drinks the next day.

Bucky tuned out his conversation and focused on his surroundings as the queue slowly moved along to the security checkpoint for airport staff to get in and out of work. His clothes were suitable as uniforms were donned inside the airport staff base, and his casual jeans and leather jacket over t-shirt didn't stand out among the other workers’ worn and casual outfits.

When it was his turn, Bucky scanned his card and nodded to the man sitting at the desk, who, luckily, wasn't focused on his job, instead perusing a newspaper in front of him. He merely glanced up and nodded as Bucky passed through the turnstile.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Bucky followed a man into the building labeled in Romanian as staff quarters.

He had to bide his time and slip away at the right moment. He was in for an uncomfortable ride in the baggage hold, but if someone was transporting animals, it wouldn't be too cold.

If not, well, it wasn’t the first time he’d frozen. 

Chapter Text

Tony unsnapped his seatbelt as they reached cruising altitude over Bucharest, looked out at the window at the city drifting below, and sighed.

He'd had high hopes when he arrived at Bucky's apartment—or was hovel the right word? Those hopes had been dashed quickly. Bucky was not there, and he’d apparently left in a hurry.

They’d not known if Bucky had been sent back with them by Peter, but Tony had planned to bring him back to the US either way. There was no way he would leave Bucky vulnerable and alone when he could be with them. And if he was sent back, too, they needed to be together to work out what Peter wanted from them.

He picked up his phone and called Steve. It was answered after only one ring, and Steve’s voice was urgent as he asked, "Did you find him?" without greeting.

"No, he'd already left. He was there until this morning, I'm sure, as I saw the calendar he'd been marking the days on. He might have seen me coming, I wouldn't be that surprised, but I've got a feeling he's been brought back like us. He was slammed with the light, too. Just because Rhodey didn’t come with us, it doesn't mean Bucky didn’t."

Steve sighed. "Then where is he? You think he's making his way to us?"

"I'm pretty sure he's coming back to the States, but what he'll do then, I don't know. We can't even be sure he'll make it into the country unseen. I'll have Friday scan public surveillance."

"If we're not the first to see him…"

Tony swallowed hard. "I know, Steve."

It was a little strange for Tony to be in this position in this time. Bucky had been nothing to him at this point before, just Steve's object for tracking while Tony went on with his life.  Now, he was facing the capture and loss of one of his best friends. They needed to find him.

Bucky would be committed to helping Peter, however that needed to be done, and would not put his safety or secrecy first. If someone like Ross got hold of him, Bucky would be locked up on The Raft for good.

"I'm on my way back now," he said. "Get some sleep; I'll do the same. We can all talk tomorrow." Another question occurred to him. "Have you told anyone else what's happening?"

"No. Me and Nat figured we should wait until we all had a chance to talk, to work out what was going on together before we spoke to anyone else. Besides, we don't know how long we'll be here for. We could be gone in a few days."

"You really believe that?" Tony asked.

There was a long pause, then Steve said, "No. Until we know why Peter sent us here and do whatever he needs us to do, we're not going anywhere."

"I agree."

Tony said his goodbyes and hung up. It was late now, so he should get some sleep so that he had energy for whatever came in the morning. He reclined his seat and closed his eyes.

It was a long time before he could actually sleep, though.

xXx

Tony woke as the plane touched down at Kennedy and a stewardess shook his shoulder. "We've landed, Mr. Stark," she said.

Tony rubbed a hand over his face and yawned. "Okay, thanks."

She slipped away, and he unsnapped his seatbelt, standing and stretching. He grimaced in anticipation of his spine popping as it did every morning, but the satisfying crackles didn't come.

He frowned for a moment and then huffed a laugh as he realized he wasn't quite the same old man he'd been when he woke up the day before. He wasn't 54 years old now—he'd skipped back seven years. The aches and pains that had become part of his life weren't there anymore. It was a strange but satisfying thought. He was by no means a young man, not even now, but the five years of raising Morgan that had aged him physically while keeping him mentally young hadn't yet passed.

He had dreamed of Morgan. He'd been with her at the lake house, sitting on the deck with his feet waving lazily in the summer-warmed water. Morgan had been complaining as her legs were too short to reach the water, just the tips of her toes touching the surface.

He missed her already, and it had only been a day since he'd woken with her curled in the bed between him and Pepper, Spider-Albert clutched to her chest. He wondered when he would see her again, when he would see Pepper again.

In this difficult time Peter had brought him to, Tony and Pepper were on what Tony called a break and Pepper called a ceasefire and retreat. She had wanted him to give up Iron Man, and he had not been able to do it. He still couldn't do it. He knew what was coming, and he needed to be in his suit to face it. If he gave it up, he would be helpless to protect the people that needed it.

He could only hope that Pepper would allow him back into her life. She had to, didn't she? Peter wouldn't have sent him back if it cost him the love of his life. Before, it had taken him being injured, exhausted, and hypothermic in hospital for her to come to him. That wouldn't happen this time, so something else must.  

That would not happen again. No matter what came next, he knew he and Steve would not face each other in a Siberian Hydra base; the shield would not be plunged into the power core of his suit. 

The door of the plane was opened, and he walked off and down the steps to where a car was waiting for him. He'd not arranged it himself, which made him think one of his flight crew had done it. He was glad of it. He wanted to get to the compound to see Steve and Natasha, to be together to work out what had to happen next.

The door was held open for him by a chauffeur called Stan, one of his regulars now Happy had been promoted to Head of Security. Tony climbed in and said, "I need to go to the compound. I've got to…"

He stopped as something flickered in his chest. It wasn't that late now, so he could make a stop if he wanted. And he wanted. He couldn't talk to Peter, not even let himself be seen, but if traffic wasn't too bad, he could see him on his way into school for a moment.

As much as he missed Morgan and Pepper, he wanted to see Peter even more, as the last time he had, Peter had been in the middle of a medical crisis which had terrified him. He had no idea what was happening to Peter in the future, if time was passing for them or if it had frozen. What he did know was that he wanted to see his son healthy, happy, and free before he could turn his mind to their greater concerns.

Stan got in behind the wheel, and Tony leaned forward and said, "Head into the city, Stan. Midtown High School. I'll give you directions once you're over the Triborough."

"Sure thing, Mr. Stark," he said, starting the engine.

Tony pressed the button to raise the divider and sat back in his seat. He allowed the thought of seeing Peter to sustain him for the drive, making a conscious decision to think of nothing else until he'd had that gift.

Once he had seen his son, he would work out what had to happen next.

xXx

Bucky hadn't needed to kill.

He reminded himself of that as he walked down the Queens' street, baseball cap pulled low over his face and head ducked down.

Getting on the plane in Romania had been less trouble than he'd expected, only needing to knock two people unconscious, but getting out in New York was harder. He'd had to stow himself in a cargo crate until he was off the plane and en route to a warehouse where he'd broken out and overpowered the driver and assistant, hopefully only leaving them with concussions.

Before Peter came into his life and found a place in his heart, Bucky would have killed to get away. But Peter's moral compass was so strong, his innocence despite his power so pure, that it had changed Bucky as a man. It made him want to be better.

If helping Peter meant ending lives, he would do it, but he would regret it and fight hard to avoid it as that was what Peter would want him to do. The kid he loved as a brother, the one that deserved the world, was who mattered most to Bucky now he was here. He would do whatever it took to serve the purpose he'd been sent back for.

He reached the corner of seventeenth and ninth and looked across the street he'd been directed to by a helpful elderly woman who had told him where to find Peter's school. It was a large building with a looming fence around it and high gates that were open now. Bucky stared for a moment, searching for a sign of Peter. It was early, though, and there were only a handful of kids there already.

He ducked into the recess between two buildings, in the shadows, and watched the gates.

As he waited, he mulled over what he was supposed to do now. He didn't think Peter was back here, too, as he would have come to Bucky straight away. If he'd come back in person, he could have flown there in a heartbeat, and he wouldn't have come back the same way he'd sent Bucky—into his own body of the time. He knew it was that body because he still had the titanium arm Hydra had given him and not the vibranium model Shuri had made for him.  Peter had said he could do this, send their consciousness back, which made sense if Peter didn't want two versions of Bucky here.           

But what did he want Bucky to do? He would do it, whatever it was and whatever it took, if he knew. He'd do anything Peter asked of him.

More students started to arrive, and Bucky's eyes roved over them, searching for a flash of brown curls, a bright smile—his kid brother. It didn't come for a long time, but he saw someone he did recognize from a photo in Peter's bedroom: it was Peter’s best friend, Ned. He was leaning against the fence, seeming to be waiting for someone, and Bucky thought it was the same someone he himself was waiting for.

His answer came when he saw a figure coming from the left, headphones in his ears and phone in his hand. He was wearing a navy hoodie, and he had a red backpack over his shoulder.

It was Peter.

Bucky took an unconscious step forward, drawn towards him, and then he caught himself and ducked back into the alley. He wanted to go to him, to speak to him, but he knew he couldn't. His keen vision showed him Peter was not the Peter he knew in the future, as his eyes were a rich brown instead of rainbow, his hair was shorter and his face younger.

This was Peter before his life had been touched by The Avengers, before Tony; this was when Spider-Man just protected Queens.

A sleek black sedan car drew up in front of his alley, disrupting his view of Peter, and he started to move, unwilling to lose the sight of Peter while he could have it. He'd gone only a few feet when the rear door of the car opened and Tony climbed out.

Bucky felt a moment’s relief which was quickly dispelled as he realized this wasn't his friend. This was Iron Man, a person that would lock him in The Raft without hesitation, the one that had come after him and Steve with his team to have him caught and locked up.  

Bucky started forward, aiming to slip past him, hurting him if he had to, but Tony called his name, threw his hands up, and said, "Peter Parker!"

Bucky froze and then exhaled in a rush. "I'm not the only one?"

Tony shook his head. "Me, you, Nat, and Steve, as far as we know. The only other person in the room with us was Rhodey, and he's not back."

Bucky ducked deeper into the alley again, his need to see Peter again momentarily banished, but Tony gestured him forwards. "Get in. I'll get you somewhere safe."

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "Your driver?"

"Won't say anything. You're safer with me than you are out here alone. Don't forget how infamous you are right now, Bucky, and you don't have a pardon." He stepped to the side and held a hand out at the open door.

Bucky took a breath and moved forward, slipping into the back seat and sliding over as Tony got in beside him. He looked through the tinted window in time to see Peter and his friend walking up the steps and entering the school.

He felt a pang as Peter disappeared, but he made himself a vow that he would see him again soon. Right now, what was more important was finding out why he was back here with Tony, Natasha, and Steve, what they were supposed to do, and how they were going to make it happen.

"Uh… Mr. Stark," a tentative voice said from the front seat.

"This is Avengers business, Stan," Tony said firmly. "You see nothing, and I'll give you a generous bonus. Take us to the compound, private entrance."

"Yes, Sir."

Tony pressed a button, and the divider rose between them and the front of the car.

Bucky sat stiffly. "Will he tell anyone?"

"No," Tony said confidently. "I pay enough for loyalty, and I'll give him that bonus. Now, how the hell did you get here so fast? I came to Romania, but you were already gone."

"As soon as I realized what had happened, that I was back in 2016, I left. I stowed away on a plane and hid in a container until I was out of the airport."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "That must have been a rough journey. You know, I could have made it a little more comfortable."

"I didn't know you were back; I thought I was the only one. I get how stupid that was now, yeah, but I was so full of what had happened to me, what Peter might need, that I didn't stop and think about the rest of you." He sucked in a breath. "What does he want from us, Tony? What do we have to do?"

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have no idea. It wasn't to change Lagos, as we arrived too late, unless he didn't control that. It could have been a mistake, I guess. What I do know is that whatever it was, it was urgent enough that he couldn't wait to find a way to communicate with us properly first. He just sent us back. And look at what it did to him to do it. He was…"

"It was bad," Bucky murmured.

Tony flinched. "Worse than bad. God, I hope he's okay."

Bucky nodded his agreement. He wasn't sure how it worked for them in the future, the ones that had been left behind. Was time moving for them there while they were back here in 2016. He hoped not, because he wasn't sure what would happen to their bodies while their consciousnesses were here. He didn't like to think of Rhodey being in that room after they were sent back, dealing with Peter in a crisis and Tony, Bucky, Steve, and Natasha unconscious or worse.

"What are we going to do, Tony?" he asked.

"First, we're going to get you somewhere safe and hidden, then we'll all talk and find a way to work out why we're here."

"How? That wasn't our Peter at the school. He can't tell us."

Tony shook his head, a small smile curling his lips. "No, that wasn't my son—not yet anyway. But he wouldn't have done this if he didn't have a way to make us see what he wants. He's a smart kid, and he's trusting us. We've got to do whatever he needs us to do so we can go back."

"How long do you think that's going to take?"

Tony shrugged. "I've got no idea. Hopefully, not long, I miss Pepper and Morgan already, but I’ll tell you one thing—" he locked eyes with Bucky, "I'm damn glad you're back here with me."

Bucky smiled, thinking of the difference in the relationship they had in their future compared to what the real versions of themselves had now, and nodded. "Me too, Tony, me too."

He didn't think there were many other people he'd want to be on this ride with him than the people he did have.

They were his family.

Chapter Text

4. Discussions and Ancient One

Steve's head snapped up as Friday announced, "Captain Rogers, Ms. Romanoff, Boss would like you to join him in his suite."

Natasha and Steve exchanged a look, and then got to their feet and started towards the door.

"Tony's here?” Sam said, behind them on the couch. "Why does he want to see you and not us?"

Natasha turned and said, with perfect poise, "I don't know, but knowing Tony, it's going to be something stupid. Be grateful he doesn't want you, too."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, I guess."

Steve waved a lazy hand and nodded, then they headed out of the common room, through the hall, past Wanda's room where she was hidden away, and then through to Tony's space.

Natasha knocked on the door and tried the handle, but it was locked.

"One moment please," Friday said, and after a moment added, "You can go in now."

"Tough security," Natasha muttered. "What's he hiding?"

"No idea," Steve replied.

They entered and closed the door behind them—Steve heard the lock click in place again—and then made their way to the living room.

The moment he caught sight of the occupants, Steve gave a relieved sigh of, "Thank God, Buck,” then crossed the room to throw his arms around him.

Bucky embraced him in return, then moved to greet Natasha, who also looked relieved to see him.

"This is it," Tony said. "I don't think anyone else was sent back. Rhodey definitely wasn't, and we were the only ones in the room. If anyone else was, I think we'd have heard from them by now."

"Agreed," Steve said. "Where did Tony find you, Buck?"

Tony chuckled. "He was at Peter's school."

Bucky smiled sheepishly. "I didn't know anyone else was sent back with me, which I see now is stupid, so I headed straight to Peter. It's not him, though, not our Peter. His eyes are brown, and he looked different, way more carefree than I've ever seen him." He smiled slightly. "He's even younger than before."

"He is," Tony said. "Bucky is right: Pete's not come back here with us. He would have come to us if he was—he'd have told us what he needed us to do. We have to figure he's still in 2023 with everyone else."

"Which means we don't know what he wants from us," Natasha said.

"We don't," Tony agreed. "So we've got to find out for ourselves."

"We've got other things to do, maybe before any of that," Natasha said. "Ross is coming with The Accords soon, and Zemo is out there, ready to frame Bucky."

Bucky grimaced. " What are you going to do about The Accords?"

Steve looked at Tony. He already knew what he was going to do, but he wanted to know how Tony felt about it. It was this issue that had torn The Avengers apart before. He didn't think that would happen again, they couldn't let it, but it would be a roadblock if they were on opposing sides of the politics.

"We don't sign." Tony’s voice was strained, as though this decision was hurting him.

"We don't?" Natasha asked, quirking a surprised eyebrow.

"No. I thought we'd be able to make changes last time once we'd signed, but that was a risk. We never had a chance to try before everything went to hell, and then it was too late. It was hard for me to even get an inch from them when I was trying to alter them after everything had happened. We need bargaining power this time around. If we sign, they'll have all the power."

"Okay," Natasha said slowly. "But they're not going to hold back on them until we do sign. We're going up against over one hundred countries on this, guys. They will ratify them, and we'll be forced to stand down. They'll stop us acting until we've signed, and even then, we can only do it on their orders if we're outside the US."

"I know," Tony sighed. "And I hate that. If we do this, my kid will be fighting alone out there, but we can't sign yet. We've got to hold onto what power we have so we can bargain for better."

"Tony's right," Steve said, relieved they were united on this. "They want us to sign so we can be the protectors the world needs. If we all refuse, show a united front, they'll be more likely to deal with us."

Natasha's lips pressed into a thin line. "This is a big risk."

Tony nodded, eyes dark with sadness. "It is, but we have time. We’ve got two years until a threat comes."

Bucky whistled. "Two years. Do you think we're going to be here that long?"

"I hope not,” Tony said fervently. “The idea of even a month without seeing my little girl or my wife and son as they should be is hell, but we've got to assume we're here for more than just avoiding The Accords fallout and stopping Bucky from being framed. Peter needs something from us."

Steve cleared his throat and raised a hand. "Actually, I've got a theory about that."

Tony frowned at him, then dropped down onto the couch, crossed an ankle over his knee, and said, "Go ahead, Cap."

Natasha sat on the arm of the chair beside Tony, Bucky took an armchair, but Steve stayed standing, arms crossed over his chest as he began to expound on the theory he'd been mulling over for hours.

"Peter sent us here with the Time Stone, that much we're sure of, and it hurt him to do it."

Tony winced. "Yeah, it did."

Steve nodded, a dark look in his eyes, and went on. "So, it was worth him doing that to himself, or at least he believes it was. And it was worth doing this to us, which we all know he wouldn't do lightly. He's not put us in an easy position, but we come here knowing one thing that can guide us—Peter helps people. Everything big he's done with The Stones is to help people, to do the right thing. Look at what he did when he went away—he brought you back, Nat; he saved Vision and Gamora, got Loki out of space; he went back to our darkest times to help us. He does good with The Stones, so that's what we've got to do now. He wouldn't have sent us back otherwise."

"Then why did he send us back to after Lagos?" Natasha asked. "We could have saved a lot more people, avoided a lot of trouble, if we'd been here a few hours earlier."

Steve bit his lip. "I don't know, but I think what he's sent us back for is bigger than Lagos, The Accords, and even The Avengers." He stopped, took a breath, and said, "I think we're here to stop Thanos."

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. "Whoa! You think so?"

Steve had been thinking about it all night, and this was the conclusion he'd drawn. "It makes sense, and it's something Peter couldn't do himself. No one would take him seriously if he came and told us what happens—not that they'll believe us either. He chose us because we're in a position to change things." He looked to Tony. "How much do you know of what we tried to do when Thanos attacked Wakanda?"

"Not much," Tony admitted.

Natasha spoke up. "Shuri was trying to get the Mind Stone out of Vision so Wanda could destroy it. She couldn't do it in time, so Wanda destroyed it while it was still in him; it killed Vision, but Thanos undid it with the Time Stone to get Mind

Tony rubbed a hand over his face. "So, we can do it again. We'll have to get in touch with T'Challa, have Shuri help us—"

"With T'Chaka," Steve corrected. "He's alive still. And he's not going to be eager to help us. His people died in Lagos—he's going to be one of the people pushing hardest for The Accords."

Tony grimaced. "I didn't think of that. We've got to find a way, though. I don't think I could get the Stone out of Vis, not without risking destroying him." He massaged his temples. "We've got time, though. Thanos won't be here for two years. We can do this." 

"We can," Steve agreed. "We can get the Mind Stone out of Vision and destroyed by Wanda; we can get Time away from Strange. Thanos couldn't get Mind back without Time. Without those Stones, he can't snap. We can save the universe five years of pain; we can save the lives of all those that died in the snap through accidents—the people in cars, planes, the trains that crashed. We can save everyone from this. I am sure this is what Peter wants from us."

He was positive. Having spent the night thinking over everything he knew about Peter and the essence of the person he was, this was the conclusion he'd come to. It was a huge thing for them to do, but they would do it. The Avengers were created to protect people, and this was the biggest group of people they'd ever tried to protect. It was the universe.

Tony blew out a huge breath. "Wow."

"And we kill Thanos," Natasha said, nodding. "Even without The Stones, he's a threat. We can stop him."

"Hold up," Bucky said. "Can we do this? You guys told me that when you were messing with time travel, you couldn't change things without creating new timelines. What if we're just doing that? Sure, it'd still be a good thing to do, but what if we go back to a time when it all happened anyway?"

Tony stared down at his hands for a moment, brow furrowed, and then he said, "What if we do? Does it matter?"

He rubbed a hand over his face and got to his feet, paced up and down for a moment, and then stopped and turned to them.

"You know, I met my father when were in 1970. He was nothing like I imagined or remembered; he wasn't the man I grew up with. He was talking about his baby being due, me, and he was happy. Trust me, he was never happy when I was around. I took a moment with him and saw something I didn't think I'd ever see: a man that loved his son."

"Tony…" Steve said quietly, then trailed off, unsure what to say in the face of his friend’s pain.

Tony shook his head and held up a hand. "I gave him a piece of advice that I got from him growing up, a reminder—No amount of money ever bought a second of time. I saw that reach him. He didn't go into my childhood remembering that; nothing changed for me the way it did when Pete came to Siberia. My father was still an asshole to me growing up, but I like to think I created a better timeline for a different version of me. I think he'd have been a better father because we met."

Steve shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. He never knew what to say when Tony talked about his father and the difficult childhood he had because of him. Howard had been Steve's friend, a good man, and Steve knew it was partially his fault that had changed. When he took down the Valkyrie, he gave Howard a mission to find him, a burning obsession, and that had a massive impact on Tony's childhood.

"So, we should do it anyway?" Natasha asked. "To save a different universe from a fate that's always going to be ours?"

Steve considered, then nodded. "I think we have to. Isn't that what The Avengers do?"

Natasha looked distant, thoughtful, but Bucky planted his hands on his knees and said, "I'm in. I think you're right, Steve: this is why Peter sent us here. If it's what he wants, I'll do whatever it takes to make it happen."

There was a deeper message in what he said, and Steve heard it. Bucky would do whatever Peter needed, do anything without question, because his dedication to Peter had no limits. He would die for him in a heartbeat if that was what Peter needed. 

Steve understood that absolute dedication as he would do the same for Peter and Bucky.

"So, we're all in?" he asked, looking from face to face. "We're making a better universe for someone else?"

Natasha nodded. “I’m in.”

"We all are," Tony agreed. "It's what Peter wants from us. We need to—"

He cut off and jumped back as a swirling portal of yellow light appeared across the room. Steve's breath caught, and then he realized what he was seeing; who was coming. This was Doctor Strange's preferred mode of transportation.

However, it wasn't Doctor Strange that appeared. Instead, it was a bald woman in flowing robes that stepped out of the portal, raked her eyes over them all, and said, "What did you do?"

"Excuse me!" Tony said. "You're the one that just showed up in my living room. Who are you, and where's Strange?"

"Stephen Strange is currently traveling to Kathmandu in hopes of finding me at Kamar-Taj. I don't have long before I'll need to leave to speak to him. But I need to know what you did before I go." 

She walked towards Tony, who took a step back and held up his hands. "Easy, lady. I don't know you."

"I am Doctor Strange before he became who he was always supposed to be. I am called The Ancient One. I am the Sorcerer Supreme."

"It's okay, Tony,” Steve said. “Bruce told me about her. She's the one he got the Time Stone from. Peter took it back to her with Strange."

"Yes," she said. "Peter Parker. I met him, and I saw…" She frowned and said as if to herself, "Why would he do this?"

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "Honestly, lady, I'm not sure what you think he's done, and since you just swirled your way in here, maybe you should answer the questions first. What do you think he's done?"

She shook her head, annoyance etched into her features. "You, Tony Stark, are not the person that belongs in this time. None of you are." Her eyes moved from face to face, and then she held up the pendant on her chest, opened it, and they saw the green Time Stone glowing. "This is reacting to you."

Steve glanced at Tony, who looked wary, and decided to venture honesty. "We're not from this time, no. Peter sent us back. We were in 2023 together, with Peter, and then he slammed us with green light and we found ourselves here in the bodies that belong in 2016."

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes, it is your consciousnesses which have been switched, your souls. The power this took is…"

"It's big," Tony said darkly. "We know. We saw what it did to him."

"Is he okay?" she asked with what seemed to be genuine concern.

"We're not sure," Steve said. "He was pretty badly hurt already when he did it. He'd been hurt by…" He stopped and considered a moment, then said, "Ego attacked him."

He expected a look of shock or awe at the mention of Ego, but she merely nodded and murmured, "Ego… Nemesis…  Of course… I didn't see…"

Tony lowered his arms to his sides and took a step forward. "You didn't see that, but you saw something, didn't you? What was it?"

She shook her head. "I saw many things, none of which matter right now."

Tony raised his voice. "No. It matters. This is about you and Strange, isn't it? He saw what you saw. After he'd done the Time Warp with Peter, seen you, he was different. He was hiding something from us, like you are now."

He took another step forward, leaning menacingly towards her, and Steve jumped between them. 

"Easy, Tony," he said, planting a hand on Tony’s chest.

Tony gave his head a sharp shake. "She knows something big, Steve, and I want to know what it is. Strange didn't tell us, and I let myself be distracted from finding out what it was. But Peter did this to us, sent us here, and we need to know everything."

"I can tell you one thing," The Ancient One said. "Or rather I can show you. Give me your hand."

Tony glared at her and didn't move. Steve offered his right hand instead, and she moved the pendant towards it. Steve felt a flicker of warmth over his skin, and he saw that green light was dancing from the center of his chest, down his sleeve to the tips of his fingers, then drifting into the Stone.

"What does that mean?" Bucky asked, moving to Steve's side and reaching his own hand towards the Stone, the same light show playing out on him. 

"It means he did not just send you here with the Time Stone," she said. "He connected you to it through himself." Her lips quirked with an amused smile. "Congratulations, you are now all bearers of an Infinity Stone."

They all took an automatic step back, Tony included, and Bucky placed his hand on his chest. "We're like Peter?"

"In a way. You do not have all of The Stones and their powers, and you do not have control of Time the way he does. You have his freedom, though."

"Freedom to do what?" Tony asked.

Her lips quirked with a smile. "You can change the world. This world. You are not constrained by the rules of time travel that bound you before. You can change your past, thereby changing the future."

Tony made a strange sound, half laugh, half sob, and he staggered back to the couch to sit down.

"Tony?" Bucky said warily.

Tony wiped at his eyes, which Steve noticed were wet. "All of it. We can change all of it. Thanos, The Blip, all that death." He raked his hands over his face, smearing his tears. "I don't have to lose Peter at all." He drew in a shaky breath. "He won't die in my arms."

Steve felt a rush of excitement ripple through him, too. He wouldn't lose Bucky or Sam; the ones that remained wouldn't spend those five dark years dealing with the aftermath.

The Ancient One looked from face to face and said, "You can do all of that and more, but you need to be aware of something. It is a dangerous power you have now. Peter Parker has entrusted you with something potent and sentient, and you need to remember that with every single choice you make."

"We will," Tony said, then, confusing Steve, he turned to him and said, smile wide, "You need to go now, Steve."

"Go where?" Steve asked, a frown marring his brow.

"Peggy!" Tony beamed. "You've got two weeks left to see her. Go now, say goodbye, and then come back so we can start to unpick this mess. Me and Nat will take care of stuff here. We'll set Bucky up with somewhere to hide. My place should work since no one but Pepper ever came here, and she's sure as hell not coming by right now." His lips turned down at the corners and then he went on, seeming to be speaking to himself, "I'll fix it."

"What do we do about the others?" Natasha asked. "Should we tell them about us and what's happening?"

"Not yet," Tony said. "We need to work out a real game plan first."

Bucky snorted. "You can have all the game plans you want; it doesn't mean they're going to believe us."

Steve shrugged, only paying half attention to what was happening—the lure of seeing Peggy blooming in his chest. "We'll work it out. I've got to go. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"We've got time," Tony said. "Ross won't show up here with The Accords until the nineteenth for the rest of you, though I'll have to deal with him sooner."

"And I should go, too," The Ancient One said, swirling her hands. "Stephen Strange is waiting." She stepped through the portal she’d created and disappeared.

Steve blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. There was so much to do, things to decide, but he just wanted to see Peggy. He could give himself one day with her, say his goodbyes, and then they could work out how to save the world. 

He wanted to say goodbye to his best girl.

Chapter Text

Tony was grateful to Peter for giving him this chance to change things, to save him from those years without him there, and save the world from that trauma. He was also proud that Peter trusted him to do it. However, he missed his wife and daughter.

He'd not put Morgan to bed the night before, and he'd not been able to wrap his arms around Pepper as he fell asleep. In this time, Pepper was living in an apartment in the city and had been since the last volatile argument about Tony's reckless ways. He missed her so much already.

It was a little easier to be away from Morgan, in a way, as she wasn't out there yet. Pepper was, though; she was in the same building right now, in a meeting with Maria Hill to discuss some facet of the funding grant for an eco-farm startup. She was just a short walk but also lightyears away.

He heard footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Bucky coming into the room. His hair was damp from the shower, and he was wearing some of the clothes Steve had given him. He was holding his prosthetic arm strangely, almost as if he was trying to distance himself from it. Tony had never noticed him doing that before.

“You okay?” he asked.

Bucky nodded and pushed back his damp hair. “Yeah, fine.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Then what's with your arm? Need me to take a look at it; you got a glitch?"

Bucky looked down, and his eyes widened with what looked like surprise to see it held away from his side. "Huh."

“What is it?”

Bucky seemed to make a concerted effort to relax it and said, “This is the arm Hydra gave me. It’s this hand that ended lives.”

Tony flinched as he realized that was the hand that had murdered his parents. He leaned back, away from it automatically, and fought the urge to suit up and blast it to pieces.

Bucky nodded, a wry smile curling his lips. "Exactly. I'd take it off and trash it, but if a threat comes, if Peter needs us, I'm going to need two working hands."

“Yeah, you do. I don’t see anything coming, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” He gave his head a small shake. “We’ll get it off you, though. Obviously, I don’t have vibranium, but I can make it out of the same alloy as my suit. Trust me, that’s strong.” He got to his feet and approached, forcing himself to touch the arm, pulling it towards him and examining the joints. “I can improve on it even. This tech is outdated. I’m not going to be as good as Shuri, but I can definitely upgrade what you’ve got. "

“Tony, are you home?” Pepper's voice called him down the hall, and he froze with his hand on Bucky's wrist.

"Go!" Tony said under his breath, then raised his voice and said, "One moment. I'm just getting dressed."

Bucky slipped away towards the door, but not fast enough. Pepper appeared in the doorway, saying, "What do you mean you're…"

She stopped, and her eyes flickered between Tony, eyes wide with his shock at being busted already, and Bucky, who looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Friday, initiateHome Invasion Protocol,” she said in a carefully measured voice.

“Initiating Home Invasion Protocol,” Friday said. “Deploying the Iron Fleet.”

“What! No! Friday, cancel the fleet!” Tony said quickly, waving a hand. “Damn, Pep. It’s not what you think. Bucky’s not here to hurt anyone.”

Her eyes twitched at the name, but she was a master at keeping her cool, and she said smoothly, “Tony, I would like to speak to you alone, please.”

“Can you excuse us, Bucky,” Tony said.

“Sure thing. It was nice to see you, Pepper.”

Pepper’s eyes followed Bucky as he slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

When he was gone, Tony took a step forward. He ached to be closer to her, to wrap her in his arms and bury his face in her honey scented hair, but he couldn’t. He had to keep his distance—remind himself that they were not together now, that she would probably slap him if he tried.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why are you harboring a highly dangerous wanted felon in your home?”

“It’s a long story, but he’s not a threat,” Tony said.

Pepper stared at him a moment, took a deep breath, and then launched into impassioned speech the kind he’d not heard since that awful day when she’d announced her pregnancy and threatened to leave him at the same time—the day she’d saved him from himself.

“Tony! What the hell are you doing? Barnes is a wanted man, and not just by the US. Almost all UN countries are looking for The Winter Soldier. Why is he here? Are you having some kind of breakdown? Is that what this is? Are you on a self-destruct mission again? I know you’re still dealing with what happened in Sokovia, and I’m not saying you should forget it, but you can’t let it destroy your life. Or is it us? Because I know you’re struggling, I am, too, and I’m sorry, I miss you, but—”

Tony held up a hand, and she stopped, breathing hard through her nose and biting her lip.

Tony took a breath of his own and weighed up his options. He could probably come up with some excuse that would work, but he didn’t want to. He and Pepper didn’t lie to each other. In fact, they relied on each other for the brutal truth when necessary. That had been something they agreed before Morgan was born.

In the early days, when Tony was focused on being the best husband and father-to-be that he could, coping with his overpowering grief, he and Pepper had many conversations on how they were going to build their new life together in the aftermath of The Snap. Pepper had insisted on honesty, and Tony had agreed, even though it had been hard. She’d wanted to know what he was thinking and feeling, and not just the good stuff—he'd agreed to share the darker places in his mind, too. 

Tony wiped a hand over his face and said, “Time travel, Pep, I’m a time traveler.”

She jerked back a few steps, eyes wide and lips parted, and then a glower darkened her face. “What the hell, Tony? How do you think this is going to help anything?”

He snorted. “That’s the whole point—I’m here to help. That’s why he sent us here.”

Pepper glared at him wordlessly.

“2023, Pep. I have been sent back here—well, to yesterday—from 2023. I wasn’t told what was happening, why he was doing it, because the person that did it couldn’t talk—not because he didn’t care."

Even though it was the truth that he didn’t know what was happening, he felt defensive of Peter, not wanting to lay blame for the path he’d set them on without instruction. It had not been Peter’s fault.

“You think you’re fifty-three? Tony, you look exactly the same as you did when I saw you three days ago.”

“Yes, but it’s my body from now with my soul, my consciousness here. It’s me from then in my body from now. We all are. It’s me, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky. We were all sent back."

“Back by who?”

“By someone I love as much as I love you,” he said, his voice heavy with feeling. “By someone that’s trusting me to do something huge for the sake of the whole world.”

Pepper stared at him a moment, seeming to be weighing something in her mind, and then she said, “Rhodey?”

“No, he didn’t come back, which is weird since he was with us when it hit. But no, he’s not back.”

"No, I mean, was it Rhodey that did it?"

Tony stared blankly for a moment, and then he caught up to what she was saying. As far as Pepper knew, the only people he loved were her, Rhodey, and Happy. His family and trusted circle of people was tiny.

“No. It was someone else.”

She nodded but looked dubious. “That’s one less insane thing for you to say, I guess. This isn’t something Rhodey could do.”

“You’ve not met him yet, the one that will do it, but you will soon.”

He said it automatically, even though he’d not yet thought of what he was going to do about Peter. With no battle about The Accords and Bucky to tear The Avengers apart, he would not need to recruit Peter. He knew himself well enough to know that he wasn’t going to be able to stay away from him, though. He was here as long as it took to stop Thanos, and he was not spending that time without his son. He was going to find a way to be with him no matter what else happened.

Pepper pressed her fingers to her temples. “This is crazy, Tony, you’re crazy, and now you’ve put me in a position in which I could end up in jail. I’ve seen Barnes, I know where he is; I should call the police right now.”

"I know, and I'm sorry, but I need you to not do that. I promise you Bucky is no threat. I get that you can't trust him, as you don't know him, but you do know me. I'd never put you in danger again."

Not like he had in the past.

“I can’t believe this, Tony. I’m sorry, because I can see you really believe it, but it’s too crazy. I think you’ve been under a lot of strain lately with Ultron and Sokovia, and then with what’s happened to us, and you need to get some rest.”

Tony huffed an automatic laugh. "You're not wrong about the strain, but it was the strain in 2023 that I was under. I am not crazy. I can…"

He grappled for a way to prove it to her. He could tell her about The Accords, but that was something he could have found out on his own; it wasn’t enough for proof.

“New York!” he said, snapping his fingers and checking his watch. “In about five hours, give or take since I wasn't paying much attention, there will be an earthquake in the city. It's a…" He rubbed his temples and wracked his memories for the number. "A 4.6, I think. It's not really an earthquake; it's trouble of The Avengers kind that is being taken care of by a lower-level crew. But it'll hit, and the tower will need structural assessment—it'll be fine, by the way."

Pepper raised an eyebrow. “An earthquake in Manhattan?”

“Not really, but that’s what it’ll feel like. Last time you were in your office. One of your godawful desk toys will break. It’s coming, though, Pepper, I swear it. Wait, see it happen, then come back and talk to me when you believe me.”

Pepper stared at him a moment, then nodded and said, "Okay. I’ll give you until the end of the day. If there’s no earthquake, I want you to promise to speak to someone, a professional, and take some time off to rest.”

“Fine, but I won’t need to. It’ll happen.”

She smoothed her skirt and said, “I’ve got to go. I only came to tell you that we got a call from DC. The new Secretary of State wants a meeting with you.”

Tony sucked in a breath, his heart racing with sudden fury as hatred washed through him. “Ross wants to speak to me…”

He should have known. Ross would be there the next day to have him sign The Accords. He'd have them couriered to Tony's lawyers first, who would look them over, warn Tony that they could be weaponized, but he'd sign them anyway because he was still traumatized by his meeting with Charlie Spencer’s mother.

“Tony?” Pepper approached him and placed a hand on his arm, which made him sure his internal turmoil was showing on his face. “Are you okay?”

“I want to kill him,” he said in a quiet but dangerous tone. 

“You want to kill who?”

“Ross, I am going to kill him for what he did.”

He dismissed Peter's need to protect life, ignored what Peter would want, and focused on what he was going to do. Ross was going to die so that he could never touch Peter, never take him to The Raft, never brainwash him and leave Peter locked away inside himself for the protection of others.

“You can’t kill him, Tony!” Pepper said, eyebrows high and hands now gripping his shoulders. “Why would you even want to?”

“Because he tortured my son,” Tony snarled.

Pepper's hands dropped to her sides, and she mouthed wordlessly. "You have a…" She shook her head, cleared her throat, and said in a neutral voice, "You need to call Ross and arrange the meeting. I’m going back into the city. I’ll make arrangements for my replacement within the next few weeks. I’m stepping down as...”

“What? Wait! Pepper, no! He’s not my son by blood; I’m not his biological father but I am his dad. Honestly, I’ve not been hiding him from you all this time, I swear.”

She looked at him a moment, eyes narrowed, and then she shook her head and strode out.

"Pepper!" he shouted after her and started to follow, but a hand gripped his shoulder too tight to be shrugged off, and he was spun around.

Bucky stared into his eyes, his own blazing with emotion, and said, “Tony, you are not killing Ross.”

“Why not? I can change time now. I can fix things.”

“Because Peter wouldn’t want you to. He got his revenge his own way. He wouldn’t want you to end a life for him. He wouldn’t want you to end a human life at all.”

Tony shook his head jerkily. “Bucky, this is my chance!”

“To let your son down?” Bucky asked. “To become a murderer? I have been down that road, I’ve murdered people, and you can never go back to the man you were once it's done. Can you go back when this is over and look into the eyes of your children and know that you've changed, that you betrayed them like that?"

Tony drew a shaky breath. He felt Bucky’s words sinking in, digging into his head and breaking down his determination.

“If I don’t kill him, I’m going to have to deal with him,” he growled. “I’ll have to talk to him.”

“You will,” Bucky agreed. “Think, Tony, you can’t change anything from inside a jail cell, and that’s where you’ll end up if you do this.”

Tony bowed his head. “This is going to be hell, Bucky.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. “It is, but it’s not going to be the same hell Peter went through on The Raft, so you can do it. You’re not alone. You’ve got me, Steve, and Natasha on your side. We’re all dealing with this together.” His eyes softened. “And you’ve got a good reason to do it.”

“Yeah? What’s that? What is supposed to make it possible for me to sit in the same room as that asshole and not stab him in the head?”

Bucky smiled softly. “The fact you’re doing it for Peter. We’ve let him down in the past, all of us, when he was catatonic; we didn’t see who he needed, so he was gone longer than he needed to be. This time it's different. We know exactly what he wants and needs. So, we deliver.”

Tony glared at him. “That’s easy to say when you can’t go near him without being locked in jail.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I guess it is, but this is what Peter needs. Really, Tony, can you refuse him now after what you’ve seen?”

Tony deflated, the air rushing out of him as he realized he couldn’t. He needed to look into the eyes of that monster and not let him see just how much he loathed him, how much he wanted him to burn, how desperately he wanted to kill him.

Because Peter wouldn’t want him to.   

Chapter Text

Steve pushed open the doors of the retirement home and went to the front desk to sign in. The receptionist was on the phone, but she quickly ended the call and fixed her excited eyes on Steve. He was used to this, some people were awed when they saw Captain America show up, but her first words dismissed that idea.

“Captain Rogers! What incredible timing you have. I can't believe it… Ms. Carter is having a good day."

Steve was a little surprised by her enthusiasm. He'd seen Peggy have good days before; they involved someone giving her a bedside manicure or a friend coming to read to her. None of them elicited this kind of reaction.

“She is?” he asked politely.

“Yes,” the woman said eagerly. “She’s lucid!”

Steve took an automatic step back, and his mouth dropped open. Peggy was lucid. That had happened once, and it was for just a flash of time, long enough for her to recognize him and realize he was back, alive. It had been like a glimpse of the sun shining behind a cloud before it was hidden again. But this sounded like it was something more substantial than just a passing glimpse of the real Peggy.

“What exactly does that mean?” he asked cautiously, not wanting to get too caught up and then be disappointed.

"She's her old self. She woke up this morning, totally lucid. She was confused at first, as she didn't recognize where she was, but she calmed down." She gave a small smile. "She's in a wonderful mood."

Steve rubbed a hand over his face. “Can I go see her?”

“Of course. You know the way to her room?”

I do,” Steve said, raising a hand in thanks and rushing through the door.

He strode quickly along the hall and then stopped outside Peggy’s room. He took a breath, braced himself, then knocked and entered at the softly spoken invitation.

He walked into the room and stopped a few feet inside. Peggy was out of bed, sitting in a chair beside the window. She was facing away from him, looking out onto the garden.

“Peggy,” he whispered.

She turned slowly to face him, her eyes wondering and lips parted. “Steve!”

Steve walked towards her on shaking legs then dropped down to kneel in front of her. He picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to the aged skin. She made a soft sighing sound, and then her free hand cupped his cheek and guided him to look at her. 

“They told me you were back, but I feel like I already knew that,” she said breathlessly, eyes wet.

“I came to see you before,” he said. “You were a little…” He trailed off, not sure if anyone had told her what her diagnosis was, how this day was a gift to her and them.

She sighed. “I wasn’t really here, was I? They didn’t want to tell me, but I insisted.”

Steve’s lips quirked with a smile. “You started throwing around the orders?”

"I did." She smiled in return, and then it faded to a scowl. "Alzheimer’s. I cannot imagine anything crueler than that.” She pressed a hand to her right temple. “I lost it all, didn’t I?”

Steve against the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, Peggy.”

She patted his cheek, then lowered her hands to her lap. "Sit down, Steve. You can't be comfortable kneeling like that. And I'd like to talk to you. I don't know how long I'll have before the demon that is that disease comes for me again, and there's so much I want to know about your life."

Steve stood then sat on the chair opposite her. It felt too far, though; he needed to be closer. He picked up the chair and carried it closer to her side, angled so he could see her face, and sat down.

“You owe me a dance,” she said with a coquettish smile.

Steve chuckled. “I do.”

“I cannot dance anymore,” she said heavily. “They didn’t even want me to get out of the bed. But if all I have is now before I lose myself again, this minute, hour, or day, I refuse to waste it in bed."

“More orders?”

She laughed again. “Indeed.” She reached out and touched his hand. He cupped hers in both of his, feeling the warm, crepey skin under his own chapped but youthful touch.

"Tell me about your life, Steve," she said. "I know they found you in the ice and that you’re part of a group of superheroes now, but I want to know everything."

He struggled to know where to start and fell upon familiarity. “I work with Howard’s son.”

“Tony,” she sighed. “I have not seen him since Howard and Maria died.” A small frown appeared between her brows. “That boy had a difficult time. Howard was not… He changed, Steve, hardened.”

“So I’ve heard, but Tony is amazing,” Steve said. “Even more brilliant than Howard. The things he’s done…” He whistled.

"He changed, too, then?" she asked. "After Howard and Maria died, he became a reckless young man. He didn't keep in contact with me. I should have pushed for more, perhaps, but I was weak; it hurt me to see him like that.”

“He’s different now. He’s…” He was about to tell her that Tony had a family, children, and then he realized he didn’t have them yet. “Can I tell you something, Peggy? You can’t tell another soul, though.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Classified information?”

“Beyond classified.”

“I can keep state secrets, Steve. Besides, I probably won’t remember this in the morning. Say what you want to say.”

“I’m not really from this time. I don’t mean the whole ice thing. I mean that until a couple days ago, I was in 2023.”

Her eyes widened and lips parted, but she didn't speak, merely nodded for him to go on.

“Something happened in the future, something we’re going to stop, and there’s this kid that gained incredible power.” He smiled fondly at the thought of Peter. “He sent us here. He’s Tony’s son, and Tony’s got a daughter, too. Really, Peggy, Tony’s not what he was after Howard died. Even in the time I've known him, he's changed massively. He's a truly good person now. A good father. He’s a hero.”

“So are you,” she said.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I am. It’s all relative, though, when you’re comparing yourself to Queens.”

“Queens?”

Steve felt warmth in his chest as he thought of the kid he loved. “He’s called Peter really, Peter Parker. He’s only sixteen, but he’s the one that saved us all. He was amazing. He saved the world— No, he saved the universe.”

Peggy stared at him a moment, her eyes assessing. “You love him.”

“I really do. And I’m not the only one. Bucky’s alive, Peggy. Hydra had him. For a long time, they misused him, turned him into an assassin, but he’s back to himself now. And, damn, he loves Queens. I’ve never seen him like that with anyone.”

Her eyes glowed with happiness. “You have him back.”

“I do. It took a long time, and it was a hard road, but now I have my best friend back. With Queens, Bucky, Tony, and the others, I've got a whole family.”

"I'm happy for you, Steve." Her lips turned down. "Losing you was hard, but seeing everything you lost was harder. You could have had the world.”

Steve stared at her. He felt a shift between them. His eyes moved around the room, and he saw a family portrait of Peggy with her husband, son, and daughter. At one point, after he heard Peter took Doctor Strange back to meet his friend, The Ancient One, Steve had considered asking Peter to do it for him, too, to take him back to Peggy.

The only thing that had stopped him was the fact he didn't want to leave Bucky and Peter behind until he was totally sure they would be okay. He saw now, though, that if he had done that, it would have been cruel.

Peggy had a good life without him. She grieved him, he was sure, and she probably thought of him sometimes and what they could have had together, but her life had moved on. She fell in love again, married, and created a family.

Though he wanted it for himself, there was no place for Steve in the past with her. All he would do by going back is take something away from her and replace it with a shade of what could have been. 

“What are you thinking?” she asked, touching his face.

“I’m thinking about you,” he said. “You had a good life.”

"I had a wonderful life. I enjoyed what I did; I created things I can be proud of, had children that gave me joy. I hate that it ended this way, but I do not regret what I had before."

His thoughts confirmed, the decision to never ask made, he said, "Tell me everything you did."

She smiled impishly. "No, Steve, I already know my story. I want to know yours. I don't know how long I have before the fog descends again and I lose what I have now. Tell me about Bucky and this wonderful boy you love. Tell me what life is like in 2023. I want to know the future."

Steve smiled and relaxed in his seat. “Okay, Peggy, make yourself comfortable, as it’s a long story.”

“And an interesting one,” she said, adjusting herself in her seat. “Tell me it all…”

xXx

Bucky knew he should not be here. If Tony knew, he’d lose his mind; if Steve found out, he’d list all the risks and make that betrayed face Bucky hated; if Natasha knew, she’d call him a reckless idiot. He couldn’t help it, though. Tony had moved him out of the compound and into the tower in the city while Ross was sniffing around, so Bucky was just too close to Queens to resist.

He had no intention of speaking to Peter, he wouldn’t even let himself be seen, but he wanted to catch a glimpse of him going about his day. It would be easier to do it during the day when Peter was going in and out of the school, but Bucky would be more likely to be noticed if he was hanging around kids.

With no other option available, Bucky found an alley near Peter’s apartment building and waited in the shadows to see him swing past.

He'd done what he could to disguise himself. He had a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, again; he was wearing gloves to hide his metal hand; his scarf was pulled high over his chin to offset the chill. This was as close to undercover as he could get, and he thought it was enough. Even if it wasn't, he could run faster than anyone chasing him.

Besides, this was what he had to do to see Peter, so he was going to damn well do it.

The sounds of the city washed over him, people going about their lives, but he was waiting for a different sound, one he’d only heard a few times before, when Peter was showing off for his sister.

He wanted the thwip sound of webs shooting and landing on buildings.

He waited patiently at first and then impatiently, eventually deciding that he was disguised enough that he didn't need to hide anymore and headed out onto the street.

He felt better walking, and his eyes roved the building above for a sign of a hero in red and blue swinging above him.

Unlike the usual New York bustle with which people marched like they were on rails, people moved around him as he walked, perhaps seeing something dangerous in the way he was moving or his covered features.

He was content, though, anticipating a glimpse of Peter, until his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he ducked into the doorway of a closed store and took it out. He checked the caller ID and saw it was Steve. He considered sending it to voicemail, but if Steve started worrying, he'd call Tony, and then Bucky's excursion would become known.

He connected the call and brought it to his ear. “Hey, Steve.”

“Hey, Buck. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, same as usual. How are you doing?”

“I’m… I’m better than good. It’s been a crazy day.”

“You saw Peggy?”

“Yeah, I spent the day with her. Buck, she was lucid. They say it happens sometimes with dementia, though it doesn’t usually last long. But I had a whole day with her. She knew me. She wanted the whole story: how I'm here, and what happened to me. It was the most amazing thing. I got to tell her all about you and Queens and some of what happened."

Bucky smiled. “That’s great, Steve. I’m really happy for you.”

“Me too. I have no idea if the lucidity will stick for tomorrow, but I want to stay as long as it does. This is a gift, Buck, and I missed out on it before.”

“Stay as long as you need. “We can work out the rest between us.”

“I’ll be there soon. I just want as much time with her while she’s really here as I can have. What have you been doing?”

“Oh, you know, just hanging out. Nothing special. In fact I—”

He cut himself off as he heard the familiar thwip sound, and a red and blue form flew above him.

"I'll call you back," he said curtly, ended the call, and stuffed the phone back in his pocket.

He looked up and saw the red and blue form had stopped. Peter was high in the air, clinging to the side of a building and looking around. Bucky was struck by the suit he was wearing, though suit was perhaps too formal a word. It looked like he was wearing pajamas, and he had what looked like welding goggles in the mask. Sure, Bucky knew Tony didn't meet him for a couple more weeks last time around, and that was when he gave him the upgraded suit, but he never imagined Peter would be out like this. That thin cotton fabric would give him no protection at all.

Peter's eyes were scanning the street, and Bucky knew he should look away, that he was being too obvious, but then Peter's gaze locked on him, and Bucky's breath caught. Without thought, he raised a hand in greeting.

Peter gave a soft laugh and raised a hand in return. Bucky felt something swell in his chest. That was Peter, the kid he loved. He had no idea who Bucky was, didn’t care about him any more than he would a random person on the street, but he’d given Bucky that smallest connection.

It made Bucky feel a wave of something like joy, which felt strange. This was the least amount of contact he'd had with Peter since the battle, and yet it meant so much. He'd become spoiled with the ease of contact between him and Peter. He'd been able to hug him, he could clap him on the back, squeeze his shoulder, tousle his hair whenever he wanted. He'd been able to show how much he loved him. He couldn't do that now, but here he was, seeing him.

There was a distant cry, and Peter's head snapped towards it. Without a beat of hesitation, he began swinging towards it, flying in arcs over Bucky's head.

Unable to resist, Bucky ran towards the sound. He came to a corner and saw a woman with her hands over her face and a bloody lip and a man sprinting away with a purse clutched in his hand. He thought about following, but then Peter dropped onto the sidewalk and started after the man at a sprint.

Bucky wanted to go to the woman, but he couldn’t draw attention to himself. He crossed the street and took out his phone, pretending to be typing a text message while really watching the street. He saw Peter sling a web at the mugger and bring him down.

Bucky moved closer to hear what he was saying, and he was stuck at once by how different Peter sounded, how young. He knew Peter was fourteen, but he’d not imagined how different that would make him.

"Mugging? Not cool. Get a job, Mister. You run fast, so maybe you could be a courier."

The man grumbled curses, and Peter webbed his mouth shut.

“Rude.”

He webbed the man’s hands to the sidewalk, then walked back to the victim to deliver her purse. Bucky stood back, listening as Peter reassured her and asked a bystander if he could call the cops to collect the mugger as he needed to go. He was assured the police would be called, and so he gave them a wave and began to swing away. Bucky followed his path and saw him come to a halt on the roof of a building a little down the block. He wanted to go to him, to talk, but he knew he had to be smarter than that.

He would be able to talk to Peter when it was time. He couldn’t rush that. He had to be patient.

It was going to be tough.

Chapter Text

7. Believing The Impossible

Tony had been waiting for the call all evening, ever since the earthquake hit, and when it came, it was short. Pepper merely told him to book a table and let her know the details. He called and booked them a table at Dominque's, then had Friday text her the details.

He showered and changed into a nice suit, needing to keep up appearances despite the situation, and drove himself across the city. The place he’d booked was an out-of-the-way bistro, which was a favorite of his and Pepper's.

The fact Pepper wanted somewhere public for this conversation wasn't lost on Tony, and he wondered at her motivation behind it. Was she expecting him to act out when they met? Sure, there was a time he would have done that, pulled a Stark move and started grandstanding, but that time had come and gone. Perhaps that was the problem, though, Pepper saw him as the man he was in 2016, with none of the personal growth the following seven years and fatherhood had given him.

He got to the restaurant and was greeted by Madison, the hostess Pepper always stopped to chat to when they were here. She seemed surprised and wary to see him, which made him sure she knew of his and Pepper's breakup through the tabloids.

Tony wondered if she was expecting him to be bringing some other woman here for a dinner date. He never would have, not even the first time he lived through this. Pepper was his one and only, no one else had ever or would ever come close, and he did not need for random hookups to appease lust.

He was taken to his usual table, and he ordered a mineral water for himself and a bottle of Pepper's favorite wine for when she arrived.

At precisely eight o'clock, Pepper appeared, led to their table by Madison who slipped away without a word. Pepper stood still for a moment, one hand clasping her purse and the other on the back of the chair, looking at him. Tony smiled at her and poured a glass of wine. He held it out, and she took it from him, still standing. She gulped it down, then pulled back the chair, sat down, and poured herself another.

“This is crazy,” she said without a word of greeting or prelude. “Insane.”

Tony smiled slightly.  “Try living it.”

She took a sip of her wine, then set the glass down and leaned forward. "You're really from…" she waved a hand, "…then?"

“2023.”

She winced. "Okay. Wow. This is so much to think about. I didn't want to believe it, not even after the earthquake, but I can think of no way you could have known about it. And—" She cut herself off and pressed her fingertips to her mouth.

“And?” he pressed.

She shook her head and redirected. “So, you’re here, what are you going to do?”

"There's a threat coming, Pep. I know you've heard me say that before, and you always thought I was getting paranoid." He huffed a laugh. "Maybe I was paranoid, but after what I’ve seen, do you blame me? The point is, I was right. There is a threat coming in 2018, a threat to the whole universe, and we've been sent back to stop it."

“You, Steve, Natasha, and The Winter Soldier?”

“Bucky,” Tony corrected without thought. “And yes.”

“Do I want to know what the threat is?”

“No.” Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t want to know, and I don’t want to tell you. You don’t need those nightmares. Suffice to say it’s big. But it’s not going to happen. We’re going to stop it.”

She took another sip of her wine. “And it was your son that sent you all here?”

Tony felt a rush of warmth fill him at the mention of Peter. “It was. I won’t tell you what's coming, but I can tell you some of it. You know the stone in Vision, the Mind Stone? It's one of six Infinity Stones. If they can be collected by a particular brand of bastard, unbelievable damage can be done. We're going to stop him, though. Because of Peter and what he did with one of those Stones, what it cost him,” he flinched as he remembered Peter seizing and the machines blaring, “we’re going to save the world.”

She stared at him over the rim of her glass as she sipped the wine. There was a strange glint in her eyes that he didn't recognize. He was lost until she said, "You really love him, this Peter, don't you?"

"I do." Tony rubbed his chest. “There are very few people in the world that I can’t live without and have a truly full life—I speak from experience here—and he’s one of them. Do you want to know about him?”

She considered a moment and then said, “Sure.”

Tony tapped a button on his watch and said, “Friday, pull up a yearbook photo of Peter Parker, Midtown High School.”

There was the briefest pause as Friday found the picture, and then Peter’s face filled the hologram. He was smiling, his hair a mess and eyes crinkled as if he’d just heard a joke. The fact he was so young struck Tony for the first time. He’d become so used to his son as the sixteen-year-old young man, and that was in the times he wasn’t demonstrating maturity befitting the bearer of The Infinity Stones, that it was jarring to see him as a kid again.

“He’s cute,” Pepper said.

Tony chuckled. "He is. He's got this weird nervous energy charm thing right now, and he talks a mile a minute. A lot of the time, he's a good comparison to the Energizer Bunny on coke."

Pepper laughed. “And how did you meet him? Is he really not your biological son?”

“No,” Tony said, and there was sadness in his voice as he thought of that one missing connection between him and Peter. “He’s… Friday, pull up the kid in a onesie stopping a car.”

“The kid doing what?” Pepper asked, and Tony held up a hand.

The video came instantly this time, as Tony had already tagged the video of Spider-Man the first time he lived through these days the moment it was uploaded. The video came up, Peter in his ridiculous suit landing in front of the bus a split second before the car would have hit it. He caught it, and the car rocked back, tail lifting.

Pepper watched the video with wide eyes and parted lips.

“What is he?” she asked. “Is it a super-soldier thing like Steve? No, it can’t be. But how? He’s so young.”

"He's fourteen. Yeah, too damn young to be doing it, I know. And it's not a super-soldier thing. The kid was bitten by a mutated spider. He calls himself Spider-Man. He can climb walls and hang from the ceiling—which he does to screw with me and to make—" He cut off and bit his tongue, angry at himself for the almost slip of mentioning Morgan's name.  He went on, voice enthused again. "He’s created this chemical compound that he can swing from like webs. He’s fast, so strong, and—”

Pepper cut him off. “But he’s just a kid.”

"I know." Tony minimized the video and picked up his water to sip. "He's still young in 2023, though I can't explain that without telling you too much, but he's amazing, Pep. Really, he's the most incredible kid I've ever known. And he's good. I don’t mean well-behaved—because he’s not—or moral, though he’s the most moral person in existence. I mean as a person. And it’s not just me saying it. He’s… Worthy.”

Pepper stared at him, seeming to be taking in the words and turning them over in her mind. Before she could say anything, Marcus, their usual waiter, came to their table. Tony and Pepper greeted him amiably, assured him they were well, and Pepper ordered salmon fillet and Tony shrimp linguine.

When he was gone, an awkward silence settled over them, and then Pepper said, “Your eyes are different, you know?”

“My eyes?”

“Yes. Even if the earthquake thing hadn’t proved it, I think I would have believed you sooner or later. I didn’t see it before, but your eyes hold the extra years you had to the man I know.”

“I guess that makes sense; I’ve not paid much attention to how I look,” Tony admitted. “But my body is definitely in better condition than the one I left behind. My knees don’t creak half as much.”

Pepper laughed softly. “You’re not that old.”

“No? Maybe not. But I lived hard, Pep.”

He'd always heard having children kept you young, and Morgan did in some ways, but he regretted waiting until later in life to have children. He was starting to feel like a old man back in 2023, and Morgan was full of energy. That was one of the great things about her and Peter being together: Peter could match Morgan for energy.

"What are you thinking?" Pepper asked, and when Tony looked enquiring, she went on, "The way you were smiling… I've never seen you look like that before."

"My life in 2023 is…” He ran a hand through his hair. “In some ways, it's the best time I've ever had, Pep. I'm so happy there. Right before I came back, there was a threat that appeared for us to deal with, and Peter was in a bad way, but still, my life there is overwhelmingly good in ways I can't even begin to explain."

Pepper sipped her wine then pushed her hair back from her face. “Are you and I together in the future?”

Tony answered without hesitation because he’d already decided this when he saw Pepper in his living room. “That’s down to you to decide. I’m not telling you what I left behind, who was or wasn’t there, because you get to choose that yourself.”

Pepper pressed her fingertips to the corners of her eyes. “Tony, you know I want to be with you, but I can’t live my life waiting for the call that you were killed doing something as Iron Man. I’m scared every day.”

"I understand that," Tony said. "I can't explain how, but I lived on the flip side of that in the future."

He remembered seeing Pepper arrive on the battlefield in the Rescue Armor, the horror he'd felt when he realized his wife was going to be fighting alongside him. That fear had soon changed to become pride and admiration as he saw how capable she was, though. He also remembered the horror he’d felt as he’d seen Peter holding the gauntlet and then putting it on.

“I can’t retire Iron Man yet, though,” he said regretfully. “There is a threat coming that needs me in the suit. I can tell you that if things stay the same this time around regarding threats, I won't have to go out as Iron Man against a real threat for a long time. Hell, when we do what we're planning to do, I'll be able to hang up the suit for years."

Pepper bowed her head and fumbled with the napkin for a long moment while Tony made a concerted effort to not stare at her. He understood the battle being waged inside her now, the knowledge that a day would come when she would live with that fear again, but he couldn’t lie to her.

“Okay,” she said eventually.

His heart beat a little faster. “Okay?”

“Yes. Okay. You and me, we’re okay. I won’t try to force you to stop doing what you need to do as long as you promise that the moment the time is right, you’ll retire Iron Man.”

Tony nodded eagerly. “I can do that, no problem. Besides, I might not have a choice but to hang up the suit for a while anyway.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Why?”

"Ross," Tony said, the venom of hatred in his voice. "He wants to see me to bring the new legislation the UN has come up with for The Avengers. We're going to be monitored. Last time, I signed it without hesitation, knowing we needed to be overseen, but I can't do that now. When I signed before, it set us on a path that tore The Avengers apart. I can't let that happen again." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "Things are going to be hard for a while for all of us, but we're going to work it out. The Avengers have to stay united to get what's coming done."

“You’re going against the United Nations?” Pepper asked, her tone carefully even.

Tony huffed a laugh at the reminder of how insane this sounded. "I am. For a while, at least. We've got to talk to the others, get them on board, but the plan is for us all to refuse until we can make amendments. Right now, they're slanted against us—life imprisonment without trial kind of slanted. We’re going to change that.”

Pepper smiled. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you’ll have me to come home to with all that stress.”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re coming home?”

“I am. This is all crazy, and I still can’t really wrap my mind around it, but I’ve been miserable without you. Yes, I’m coming home.”

Tony was out of his seat in an instant; he was lifting her and pulling her against his chest in the next. His lips slammed against hers, and he poured all his happiness, his relief, and the peace that she gave his heart into the kiss.

He had the love of his life back, which would give him the strength to face what came the next day in the form of a meeting with Thaddeus Ross without punching him.

He could do it with Pepper to go home to and Peter relying on him.

Chapter Text

Tony set his coffee mug down on the table as he heard Rhodey call his name from along the hall.

“In here,” he called back.

Rhodey strode in, and for a moment, Tony just stared at him. He'd become so accustomed to Rhodey in his braces, the slightly stiff movements, that the sight of him moving smoothly under his own steam was shocking. It made a lump form in his throat, and he stood and walked towards him without making a conscious decision to.

“What?” Rhodey asked. “Have I got something on my face?” He rubbed his chin.

“It’s good to see you,” Tony said, his voice a little choked. Before he could stop himself, he was throwing his arms around Rhodey and hugging him.

“Uh… okay,” Rhodey said. “This isn’t weird at all.” He pulled back, and Tony had to force himself to unlock his arms and release him. Rhodey stared at him for a long moment. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Tony said. “I’m just happy to see you.”

“I saw you a week ago, Tone, and you didn’t act like this. You complained because I finished the coffee in the pot while I was waiting for you to get your ass out of the lab to see me.”

Tony waved a hand. “Yeah, but that was then. This is now, and now, I’m happy.”

He knew he wasn’t playing it cool enough, but it was hard when he was seeing his best friend as he had been before. Rhodey managed his disability like a champ, didn’t let it hold him back, but Tony wasn’t going to let him be put in the position to be strong like that again. There would be no Civil War, as the press had dubbed it; Rhodey would not fall from the sky while Tony tried desperately to get to him but ultimately watched helplessly as he crashed into the ground.

“Sure you are,” Rhodey said doubtfully. “And that’s why you wanted me to come over— because you’re happy?”

Tony’s smile faded. “Afraid not. The Secretary of State is coming by soon with a proposal for me, and I want you there to help.”

“A proposal?”

Tony sighed and gestured him to a chair at the table. Rhodey sat down, and Tony fetched him a coffee then joined him.

“You know The Avengers aren’t popular right now.”

Rhodey nodded. “Yeah. Is there more trouble?”

“Yeah. A big swell of UN countries want us to be overseen. They've come up with something called The Sokovia Accords. It's a framework for us to work within, but it basically means we'd be under the control of the United Nations. A hundred and seventeen countries have signed up for it. We won't be a private organization anymore. They will set up a panel, and we'll only be able to act if and when they say so outside the US.”

Rhodey’s brow furrowed, but he nodded slowly. “Okay, yeah, I can see that. It’d be better. We’d be accountable, and there would be a chain of command for us to follow.”

Tony had known he’d react like that as he had last time. Rhodey believed in orders and a chain of command. He was a military man, so it was drummed into him. Rhodey was the wild card when it came to signing. The ones that had signed before were covered: Natasha knew why they couldn't sign, and Vision would follow Tony's lead. Rhodey would do what he thought was right, and what he thought was right was to sign. Tony was going to have to persuade him otherwise.

"We can't do it, Rhodey," he said. "Not with them as they are now. I've already looked them over, and my lawyers spent the night analyzing them. They're too dangerous. If trouble comes and we’re not given the orders, we can’t act. In the time it’d take to get the green light, people would die.”

Rhodey sighed. “Tone, I get what you’re saying, and I hate to say this, since you already know, but things have gone bad without us being overseen.”

It was kind of him, Tony thought, to include himself in that when Rhodey had no part in the creation of Ultron, and he had not been in Lagos. In fact, Rhodey had been the one doing what he was told all this time.

Tony nodded stiffly. "It's gone bad, yeah, and I do think we need to be overseen, but these Accords are weighted against us right now. If one of us disobeys an order, we can be locked up on The Raft without trial for an indefinite period."

It had happened last time, and only Steve's actions had freed the others from that fate.

Rhodey looked startled, but he quickly worked through it and said, his tone reasonable, “Okay, that’s not good. But don’t you think the ends justify the means?”

“No.”

Rhodey sighed. "This isn't how you work, Tone, I know it, but you need a chain of command to be safe. Right now, it's all on you. If you're overseen, you and other people will be safer. Believe me, it's better when someone else is calling the shots."

Tony snorted. “Believe me, it isn’t, not with the kind of people calling the shots now—like Ross.”

“What’s the problem with him? I know he doesn’t have a stellar history, and he’s part of what happened to Bruce, but—”

“He’s a monster!” Tony spat. “He’s the worst kind of monster there is. Trust me.”

“You know I do,” Rhodey said, brow furrowed. “But you’ve got to give me more to go on than that.”

The problem was, Ross wasn’t the same monster yet. He’d not taken Peter prisoner, had him tortured and brainwashed. He’d not given the orders that caused a gun to be aimed at Tony’s four-year-old daughter. But he was the person that had done it in the future, in Tony’s past, and that was unforgivable.

"I can't give you more," Tony said. "But you have to trust me when I say he's not the man to be in charge of us."

Rhodey ran a hand over his hair. “He won’t be, though, will he? If there are more than a hundred countries represented in these Accords, it’ll be down to them all.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration welling up. “I’m not saying we never sign. We will, but only when we’ve made the necessary changes. We can’t be at risk of indefinite jail-time for doing the right thing.”

“No,” Rhodey said thoughtfully. “I see what you’re saying, but…” He sighed. “Okay, I won’t sign off the bat. I’m trusting you to be doing the right thing. But once we’ve got them to a level I’m satisfied with, I’m signing.”

“Me too,” Tony said, almost sure he was being honest. “I’ll even lend you a pen.”

Rhodey snorted. “I’m sure you will. So, when is Ross coming?”

Tony raised his eyes. “Friday, how far out is he?”

"His helicopter is over Baltimore right now."

Rhodey raised an eyebrow. “Are you tracking the Secretary of State?”

“If you knew what he was capable of, you’d understand,” Tony said darkly. “Now, we’ve got time for breakfast before the asshole arrives. What do you want?”

Rhodey shook his head. “Tone, I ate breakfast after I did my morning run and calisthenics at six-thirty. We’re closer to lunch now. Really, you need to start sleeping at the right times. You spent too long holed up in the lab in the middle of the night.”

“I will,” Tony said seriously. “I’ll do better, just you see.”

He was going to change this time around. He was going to be there for Peter when he needed him, he was going to make time for Pepper and Rhodey, and he was going to be at the top of his game as Iron Man for when they faced the threat coming. Just because he wasn’t going to be able to use The Infinity Stones, it didn’t mean Thanos wasn’t going to come looking for them.

Tony was going to be ready.

xXx

Thaddeus Ross, former President of the United States—and he would be again, it was promised—drummed his fingers on the back of the tablet he was holding as the helicopter hovered over The Avengers compound. He hated this place. It had started its life as Stark Industries property, purchased and developed by Howard Stark. Then Tony Stark had inherited it and turned it into The Avengers base and home the previous year.  Now, it was Tony Stark's property, and the man always made Ross aware of it every time he visited. Or at least he would. Technically, he'd not been here yet in this time.

It was confusing to be back in this time and to think of things in the right series of progression. He still felt like the President, and had on that hellish planet, too, even though he was thoroughly defeated there. Now he was back as Secretary of State, subservient to Ellis, and he hated it.

If only they knew he was far beyond that position now, bigger even than President. He was one side of Nemesis now, his mind and body combined with the power of Ego. He had never been more powerful in his life, and no one knew.

It was a bitter pill to swallow.

However, it was necessary. He needed to keep his true identity secret as he was here with a mission. He was going to break the Asset at the very depths of his soul, make him weak and unworthy, and then they, Nemesis, would rule absolute.

The helicopter bobbed as it descended, then, with a soft thumping jostle, it landed. Ross tucked away the tablet he'd been pretending to peruse and stood. In the bag at his feet, he held a copy of the Sokovia Accords that he'd brought for Stark to sign.

He had no doubt it would be signed, as it had been before. Even though Stark’s lawyers had been couriered copies for examination the day before, even though Stark must now know they were weighted against him and his friends, he would sign because his guilt for the Ultron debacle was overwhelming.

Stark’s distress pleased Ross in all times he experienced it. Even before Stark recruited that menace Spider-Man, leading to him being on that battlefield, within reach of The Infinity Stones to use for all that followed, Ross had hated Stark’s assumed superiority—and, though he wouldn’t even acknowledge it to himself, his far more plentiful wealth, too.

The helicopter door was opened, and Ross stepped down and onto the concrete helipad. He was sure Stark knew he had arrived, but he did not come to greet him—he had not last time, either. In fact, he'd kept Ross waiting while a member of staff retrieved him from his lab where he was tinkering with his toys.

As before, one of Stark's minions was waiting for him: Maria Hill, who'd been a prominent member of SHIELD before their fall and was now just another Stark lackey. She greeted him politely and said, “Mr. Stark is waiting for you in the conference room, Sir.”

Ross liked being called sir, especially by someone that had thought themselves superior to him before, and it took him a moment to recognize the difference as he was preening so much.

When it occurred to him, he said, “Stark is in the conference room?”

“Yes, Sir. Colonel Rhodes is with him.”

Ross stopped dead a moment, eyebrows raised and confusion swimming in his mind. This was different. Not only had Stark made him wait before, but he’d also come alone to the meeting. Why Rhodes was there now, Ross didn’t know or understand.

Ego said time was a fluid thing, that it could be changed, but that would only create new timelines. However, that was only for anyone other than him. With her power behind him, the power now shared, he could change time and events and enable others to do the same. The people he planned to bring into his mission to break the Asset had not been there before, working for him, but they would be this time.

How and why Stark’s path had changed now, he didn’t know. He couldn’t ask Ego while he was with Hill, as she would surely question it if he appeared to be speaking to himself, but he was a little perturbed.

He banished the question and followed Hill. They rode down in the elevator to the second floor, and then Hill led him towards the conference room. He followed, head held high, brimming with confidence, and then he waited as she opened the door for him.

She went in first to announce him, and he pushed past her and said, “Stark, thank you for being ready for me. I expected some power-play delay.”

Ross’ eyes were set above Stark’s head as he addressed him, something he’d learned disconcerted people and set him as the dominant person in the room, as people craved eye contact and some connection. However, when Stark answered, his eyes snapped to him.

“I thought it was better to have the meeting began and ended sooner,” Stark said stiffly.

This was not the Tony Stark he was expecting.

Though Stark had clearly never liked Ross, he'd always kept the front of the confident and calm man he created to deal with the media—the sarcasm and wit that he prided himself on. There was more in his eyes now than just dislike, though. Stark’s eyes showed genuine hatred, even though his face was a carefully controlled mask.

Ross was taken off guard, and he couldn’t speak. Instead, his eyes moved between Stark and Rhodes, surveying them.

Unlike Stark, Rhodes showed no unusual emotion in their interaction, and he was the first to offer Ross a hand to shake. Stark seemed to have to force himself to shake Ross’ hand when it was offered, and his grip was lighter than his usual firm shake—almost as if he was being careful not to crush his fingers.

Ego roused in his mind, her tone furious. “How can this have happened? How did he do this? He has given it to him!”

Ross had no idea what she meant, and he couldn’t ask. He was concerned, though, and wished he could talk to her. He supposed he could excuse himself to use the bathroom, but that wasn’t the right way to begin this while looking strong. Stark had never respected him, even before he hated him as he apparently did now. If Ross gave evidence that he could not hold his water long enough for a meeting, Stark’s opinion would become even more scathing.

He gave his head a small shake, dismissed Ego's words, and said, "Now, Stark, you already know why I am here, since your lawyers were given an advance preview of the subject. Have you had a chance to peruse The Accords yourself?"

“Oh yes,” Stark said, pulling a chair back from the table and sitting, without inviting Ross to do the same, crossing his ankle over his knee. “I read it all.”

Ross doubted that, as he himself had three days to read them the first time he'd lived through this moment and had not finished. He'd been given the cliff notes from the committee, each wonderful detail which would bring them under his control, and ultimately led to The Avengers being torn apart.

“And what do you think?” Ross asked.

Tony opened his mouth, a hard look in his eyes, and then he took a breath, closed his eyes a moment, and said, “I think they’re a great idea, in essence, but I cannot sign them as they are.”

Ross’ eyes widened. “Excuse me, what did you say?”

This was not what had happened before. It had barely taken any encouragement at all to make Stark sign. Ross had made all the right noises about making alterations in the future while pushing the urgency and giving subtle reminders of what Stark had done to make the Sokovia Accords necessary. In fact, Stark had been less reluctant to sign than Ross had expected him to be, famously bull-headed as he was.

"I can't sign them as they are," Stark said. "They could be turned into a weapon against us too easily. There need to be alterations to protect our human rights if I'm to sign."

Ross pushed down his shock, took a measured breath, and said, "Of course, we'd expected as much, but you should sign now to be in a better position to make changes later. If you read them, you know they will be passed into law, even if not a single person signs. If that happens, you will all be unable to act in any capacity with the technology and enhancements you have. You, Stark, will not be allowed to ever put on an Iron Man suit again.”

Stark rubbed his chin. “Technically, I don’t think you can decide what I wear, but you can absolutely stop me from acting as Iron Man.  At least, you can arrest me for doing it. But that’s fine. I will not do anything as Iron Man until I’ve signed.” He leaned forwards. “And I will not sign until changes have been made.”

This was all wrong: Stark should be signing. This wasn’t something Ross was changing as he’d followed the script from before almost perfectly. This was impossible, and yet it was happening. Ross did not understand how or why, but he was facing an unforeseen complication in their plans now.

Ross and Ego had discussed what to do with Spider-Man at length. It had been decided that they were not using Ross' power as a politician and influence on The Accords against him. They could, as Spider-Man acted as a vigilante, which would be illegal after The Accords were ratified, but they had bigger plans. Instead of politically, they were going to target him on a personal level. Somehow, The Infinity Stones had decreed him worthy to bear them, something Ego said should be impossible for any human due to their innate weaknesses and flaws, so they had to change that.

No one knew it apart from Ross and Ego, but Spider-Man was going to be systematically targeted in ways that would break his character, destroy his morality, and make him unworthy.

It wouldn’t even be difficult with the plan Ross was preparing to put into motion.

Ross dismissed Stark with a flick of his hand and addressed Rhodes. “What do you think, Colonel Rhodes? You were not invited to this meeting by me, so I assume Stark has already talked against The Accords. I know you, though; you’re a military man, just like me. Are you going to obey orders and sign? Remember, these orders do not come from President Ellis or even the World Security Council. They are the combined orders of one-hundred and seventeen countries.” He narrowed his eyes. “Will you obey those orders, Colonel?”

Rhodes took a deep breath then glanced at Stark, whose lips pressed into a thin line. Rhodes looked down at the table for a moment and then said, "No, Sir. I cannot accept these orders as they stand."

Ross nodded, knowing Stark had gotten to him and that it was pointless to argue. How this had happened, he didn’t know, but it was not an issue with his grander plan for Spider-Man; it was just a wrinkle in his role as Secretary of State.

“We need to talk alone,” Ego said. “Your human power machinations are immaterial compared to what the child has done. Go now.”

Ross rose to his feet and said, “There’s obviously no point talking about this now. I will be in touch with you both and your team soon, but you should know that this is going to happen regardless. With or without your signatures, The Sokovia Accords will become law.”

Stark nodded, eyes fixed on Ross with ill-concealed hatred, but Rhodes cast his eyes down again, looking uncomfortable. 

It didn’t matter to Ross. Let The Avengers fight this among themselves or in the halls of power, Ross had a greater target than them. He was going to serve Ego, serve himself, and put the plan in motion for them to seize the power that the Asset stole.

“I’ll walk you out, Sir,” Rhodes said.

“No need,” Ross said dismissively. “I know my way.”

He swept from the room, along the hall to the elevator, and summoned a car. When it arrived, he got in, allowed it to move up a floor, and then pulled on the emergency button to halt its progress.

“What is happening?” he asked aloud.

“Soon,” Ego said. “Get somewhere we can talk.”

Frustrated, Ross set the elevator in motion again, exited on the roof, and approached the helicopter. The pilot clearly did not expect him back so soon, as he was leaning against the side and scrolling on his phone. He jumped into action as Ross approached, though, opened the door, and stepped aside.

Ross climbed in, settled in his seat, then when the door had closed behind him, murmured, “I’m ready,” then felt himself tipping into the private place where he could commune with Ego.

It was the Oval Office, the place which he'd once presided over with supreme satisfaction. Now there were two chairs, one in front of the highly polished desk and the other behind. It was in the place of power behind the desk that Ego sat, though to an observer, she looked like a man she said was called Kaecilius who'd been a vessel for her before Ross had been gifted with her presence.

Ross took his seat in the subservient position opposite, resenting it internally but never allowing it to show on his face, though she surely knew as she had access to his mind.

“What just happened?” he asked.

Her hands fisted on the desk, and her eyes hardened. "That man has been gifted with Time."

“You mean he’s out of time as well?”

“Yes, I mean that and the fact he actually bears the Time Stone by extension. The child gifted him with a connection to the Stone and sent him here.” She narrowed her eyes. “The child knows we’re here and has sent defenders.”

Ross shook his head, a reluctant laugh bursting from him.

“There is nothing funny about this,” Ego snarled. “Tony Stark is equally able to change things in time as you are. He can set his own path.”

“He is,” Ross agreed. “But he cannot set the Asset’s path. Trust me, Stark will not be able to defend him from us and what we’re going to do. Perhaps we cannot physically harm the Asset with Iron Man watching over him, but that was never the plan, was it?”

She nodded slowly. “True, it was not. What are you thinking?”

"I think it's immaterial that Stark is here, too. It's the Asset's spirit that I will break. All Stark can do is watch it happen."

“And you still believe that’s possible?”

“I am certain of it,” Ross said fiercely. After all I did to the Asset, his revenge was not to kill me. He’s not a murderer yet. With what we’re going to do to him, we will make him one. That is what will break him, make him Unworthy, and we have two years to do it. Trust me, the only difference in Stark being here is that he will be a witness to what’s to come.” He laughed again. “And that could not be a more perfect revenge. Let Stark fight The Accords; perhaps he will even win. What matters to you and I is that we break the Asset, and we will.”

She stared into his eyes, seeming to be seeing right through to his soul, and then nodded. "Play your role. I do not want them to know you're back, too. If you're going to fulfill your wish to be the leader in your stilted human way, you need a clean reputation. Your part in the breaking of the child cannot be known."

Ross smiled smugly. “Don’t worry; no one will know. I will play my part.”

He knew exactly what he needed to do to achieve his ends, and he was going to succeed.

The Asset would not defeat Ross again.

Chapter Text

Steve was no stranger to speeches, and the people he was talking to were his friends, but he was still unusually anxious. He reminded himself that this was basically a mission brief, nothing new, and they were all fairly sure the others were going to agree with them and refuse to sign the Accords. That only helped so much, though. Everything rode on them all being in unison with this.

With all eyes on him, he finished his speech to the room with a firm, “So, you see, we can’t sign them.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Rhodey, who looked pensive. Tony had said he’d already briefed Rhodey on the situation and had persuaded him not to sign until the changes had been made, but Steve wasn’t that confident in his analysis, looking at Rhodey now. 

“So, you want us to refuse an order from the United Nations?” Vision asked, his tone inflectionless.

Tony crossed his arms over his chest and sat back on the couch. “Pretty much, Vis, yeah.”

“This is because of me,” Wanda said quietly. “Because of what I did.”

“No,” Tony said firmly. “This is not on you, Wanda. It’s not your fault.”

Wanda looked surprised at Tony’s defense, which made sense because Tony and Wanda had been distant before—something that wasn’t eased until Tony saw Wanda’s care and affection for Peter during his catatonia.. There were reluctant grudges on both sides. Tony hadn’t forgiven her for messing with his mind, and Wanda still remembered the bomb with Stark Industries emblazoned on the side which had destroyed her life.

"This was set in motion a long time ago," Tony went on. "Maybe even before Ultron. We've been judged since the beginning for the damage we leave behind. Hell, people complained about the property damage caused while we were fighting the Chitauri in New York, even though it was caused while saving their lives. Lagos just gave them a good excuse to come after us now. It would have happened anyway. These documents took months to prepare; we just didn't know it was happening in secret."

Wanda nodded slightly, and Vision gave her a tentative smile, which she returned. 

“If we refuse to sign, we have more power to create change,” Steve said, reminded irresistibly of Peter when Fury came to them to demand a press conference. “If we sign now, we’ll be bound by them and have no sway to our arguments.”

“But if we don’t sign, we all have to stand down,” Rhodey said. “Essentially, we’ve got to retire.”

“Only for a while,” Tony said quickly. “And there won’t be a threat to face for a while now anyway. Hydra is done.”

“You got a crystal ball, Tony?” Clint asked. “I wish I’d known. You could have warned us before all this crap started.”

“I don’t have a crystal ball,” Tony said, his lips twitching with a smile, perhaps thinking of his son and what they all knew thanks to him. “But I’m confident nothing is coming.”

“How do we know they’ll let us make changes?” Rhodey asked. “This isn’t SHIELD or the World Security Council. It’s the United Nations. It’s bigger than us. We answer to them—not the other way around.”

“Because they need us,” Steve said. “The world is safer with us active.”

“And it’s not bigger than us,” Tony said. “I know you’ve heard this from me before, but threats are coming. I don’t think they’re coming yet, but they will come. I’ve seen what’s out there. If they shackle us, they’ll have no one to defend them.”

“Not unless we all risk getting put behind bars,” Clint muttered.

“Which we would do,” Natasha said. “But why should we have to? Tony’s right—threats are coming. If we’re handcuffed by The Accords, we’ll be slower on the defense. I'm not saying we refuse forever, but I, for one, am not giving up my human rights to appease the UN."

“We can do this,” Tony said emphatically. “We’ve just got to show a united front.”

Steve and Tony locked eyes, and Steve nodded his agreement. They needed to be together.

If it was the only way, Steve would sign, but it wasn’t. He knew he could face the threat and act as an outlaw when the time came, but he didn’t particularly want to live on the run again for two years. More than that, he didn’t want The Avengers to fall apart. They were more powerful when they were united as a team. As Tony had pointed out, Thanos would come no matter what, even if The Stones were destroyed, so they had to be together to face him.

Rhodey looked between Steve and Tony, his eyes narrowed, and then he said, “Okay, I want to know what’s really going on.”

Tony schooled his face into innocence, though his eyes were wary, and said, “I don’t know what you mean. We’ve told you what’s going on.”

“No.” Rhodey leaned forward in his seat, hands planted on his knees. “I know you, Tone, and I can tell something more is going on. What are you hiding from us?”

Tony opened his mouth to answer, closed it again, then looked at Steve, who shrugged. Maybe now was the right time to tell them. They would have to eventually anyway. Vision wasn't going to give up the Mind Stone unless they could give him a good reason, and they would need the full team to persuade Doctor Strange to give them the Time Stone.

“It’s time,” Natasha said, giving Steve and Tony a significant look.

Rhodey’s eyes snapped the three of them. “Time for what?”

Tony took a deep breath. “Okay, yeah, we’re not telling you everything, but—”

He cut off as Vision clapped his hands to his head and gasped.

“Vision?” Wanda said, placing a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

Vision lowered his arms, revealing his eyes, which were now yellow instead of blue. They were the exact same shade of yellow as that in Peter’s eyes; they were also very clearly strained.

“Peter?” Tony said, rushing towards him and crouching in front of him.

“Who’s Peter?” Rhodey asked, and the confused question was repeated by Sam, Clint, and Wanda.

Vision shook his head. “No. Mind. Peter cannot come yet.” He drew a deep breath, which seemed to strain him. “I cannot talk long. The connection is weak because Peter is.”

“Peter’s weak?” Tony asked. “What happened?”

"He expended too much energy, sending you here, and maintaining the connection between Time and yourselves is draining him as he was already so gravely injured."

Tony cursed and raked a hand through his hair. “Then tell him to stop!”

“He can’t,” Natasha said. “You know that.” She addressed Mind. “Why are you talking to us now? What’s wrong?”

“We need you to know you are doing it wrong. This is not why…" Mind gasped and his hands cradled his head again. "You were not sent here to do this!"

“You mean the Sokovia Accords?” Steve asked. “Are we supposed to sign?”

“No. The Accords do not matter; they’re nothing to us. You’re doing it wrong, though.” He began to shake, the heels of his hands digging into his eyes, clearly overwhelmed by the strain of maintaining the connection. “It’s not about the UN or Thanos. It’s—”

He cut off with a cry, and then his hands dropped, and he slumped forwards. Tony caught him, calling, "Mind? Pete?" but Vision's eyes were closed, and his face was lax. However Peter had achieved it, the connection was lost.

"Vision?" Wanda asked, her tone worried. "Can you hear me?"

Sam approached, reached out as if to take Vision’s pulse, then dropped his hand as the reality of the situation settled over him.

Tony stood and moved away, hands raking through his hair, and Steve placed a hand on his shoulder. "Queens will be okay, Tony," he said.

“Did you hear him?” Tony snapped. “Peter’s weak, and the strain of connecting to us is too much for him."

“He can handle it,” Natasha said. “You know he’ll live.”

“He’ll live, but he will suffer,” Tony growled. “Dammit, Pete, take us back!”

“Take you back?” Rhodey asked, his voice holding a hint of annoyance as well as confusion.

Before Tony could answer, Vision made a small sound of pain and then straightened up. All eyes snapped to him, and he looked around the room as if stunned to see them with him. His lips parted, and then he said, "Where was I? Who was that boy?"

“You saw Peter?” Tony asked, heart skipping.

“I don’t know his name,” Vision said. “I was in a room. It looked like your lab, but there was a table and other people there—one of them was Thor’s brother, Loki. The boy told me he was sorry, but he needed to speak to you. He said it wouldn't take long. He had to exchange our places."

“You saw Peter,” Tony repeated, now an affirmation, hand on his chest over his racing heart. “How did he look?”

Vision frowned. “Who is Peter?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Steve said. “How did he look, the kid?”

Vision considered a moment, then said, "Ill, he looked very ill."

Tony made a sound of pain, and Steve squeezed his shoulder. There were voices around them, questions being asked, but Steve’s focus was on getting Tony through his crisis. He understood how Tony felt as he was worried about Peter, too, and hated the idea of him suffering. But Peter could not die. He was immortal. No matter what he did, what happened to him, he would live.

Steve was more worried about what they were doing wrong.

Rhodey's voice broke over the others in the room, close to a shout. "Who is Peter, and what the hell is going on?"

Tony raked a hand over his face and said, “Okay. Yeah. Peter… Friday, pull up the yearbook picture of Peter Parker again.”

The TV behind them switched on automatically, and a picture of Peter appeared. Steve was struck by how young he looked. He’d not seen him this age without the mask. He really was just a kid, only fourteen years old. Steve felt a pang of longing to see him again, to talk to him, to just be close to him.

“That’s who I saw,” Vision said. “But he looked different—older. And his eyes were…” He shook his head.

Rhodey got to his feet, seemingly without thought, and approached the TV. "That’s impossible," he said under his breath. "He can’t be…”

Steve was bewildered, but Tony sucked in a breath and laughed inexplicably. “You’ve seen him before, haven’t you, Rhodey?”

Rhodey nodded, his eyes unfocused and bewildered. “I think I did, or I dreamed of him. It had to have been a dream—that can’t have been real.”

It clicked into place in Steve’s mind, and he realized what Tony was saying. Peter had gone to Rhodey in 2009 when Tony was being held captive in Afghanistan. Rhodey had told them about it. Peter had reassured him that Tony would be found and that he was about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime, one that Rhodey would join him on. He remembered the fondness in Rhodey’s eyes as he’d told them about Peter, the awe in his voice as he’d shared the story.

“You too, Sam?” Steve asked, turning to his friend.

Sam was sitting forward in his seat, head in his hands, which were shaking slightly. "Yeah," he said quietly. “I think so anyway.”

"Well, I've not seen him," Clint said, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, I guess me and Wanda are missing out on whatever great revelation this is.”

"No," Wanda said quietly. "I've seen him, too. He saved Pietro and me when the bomb dropped."

Tony huffed a laugh and locked eyes with Steve, an unspoken message in his eyes—this just got a lot easier.

"Peter came to see you in Afghanistan when you were looking for me, Rhodey," Tony said. "He came to Sam when his wingman was shot down."

"Riley," Sam said, face still hidden. "Was he really there?" He lowered his hands and looked at Steve. "I thought it had to be some kind of stress-induced hallucination, because I also remember him not being there, though that’s vaguer, more distant—like a dream.”

“Same for me,” Rhodey said. “I saw him, I think, but I figured it was sleep-deprivation.”

“He was there,” Steve said with satisfaction. “He was there for all of you.”

“Not me,” Clint said. “I’ve never seen that kid before in my life.”

“No, he didn’t come to you,” Tony said. “He was there for me, Steve, Bruce, Wanda, Sam, and Rhodey, though. He came to all of us at some of the worst moments of our life, when we needed him most, and he helped us.”

"That's what Queens does," Steve said, his love for the kid evident in his voice. "Peter, I mean: he helps. That's why we're here; he needs something from us to help others.”

“And how exactly do you know this kid and we don’t?” Clint asked. “And how the hell did he do this… ‘visiting’ thing for you guys?”

“Time travel,” Tony said, his eyes roving their faces. “Peter can time travel with the Time Stone, and he’s made it possible for us to do that, too. We’re actually here from seven years in the future,”

Clint snorted, and Sam looked doubtful. Steve thought Wanda believed them, though. She nodded and then said, "He looked different when he came to me. I don't just mean he was older. I mean, he was wearing a strange suit."

Tony nodded. “Show us Spider-Man, Friday.”

Peter's face Vanished from the screen and was replaced by a shaky video of Peter in a shabby, clearly homemade suit, swinging into the shot and landing neatly in the road in time to to catch a speeding car before it could collide with a bus. Steve knew how strong Peter was, he'd seen the proof of it in the BARF simulation of him lifting a building from himself, but it was still shocking evidence playing out in front of him.

And that was a fourteen-year-old boy.

“That’s Peter Parker,” Steve said when it became clear Tony wasn’t going to speak, his eyes fixed instead on the looping video of his son. “He’s also Spider-Man, a superhero based in Queens. He’s one of us—an Avenger.”

Clint made a sound of incredulity. “He’s just a kid, Steve. No matter what he can do in a onesie, none of us would make him one of us."

Tony grimaced and flicked off the TV. “He won’t be one of us for two years. And then it’s a battlefield commission before what basically amounted to the end of the world as we know it.”

“Peter is the one that saved the world,” Steve added.

Rhodey moved away from the TV and sat down again, eyes distant.

“Peter is my son,” Tony said, voice slightly strained. “Not the result of some careless one-night stand fourteen years ago. He’s the son I met, or would have met, three weeks from now when I recruited Spider-Man to fight Steve. He’s not my blood, but he is my kid.”

“You recruited a child to fight against Steve?” Rhodey asked, eyebrows high.

Tony ran a hand over his face, then sat down again and leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. “Me, Steve, and Nat are here from 2023. Before you start saying we don’t look old enough, it’s not our bodies that were sent back: it’s our minds, our souls. Peter did it—he sent us here.” Seeing Rhodey’s incredulous look, Tony went on, a small smile quirking his lips. “Peter is, in 2023, the most powerful person in the universe. He possesses The Infinity Stones, like the one Vision has. They’re part of him, and he can do all kinds of things. He’s incredible. He sent us back with the Time Stone to do something big.”

“But we don’t know what anymore,” Steve sighed, a hand coming to run through his hair.

“We don’t, not really.” A hard look came into Tony’s eyes. “At least we don’t know what he wants us to do. But we know him and what he does. He sent us here to do something for the good of others, and we’re going to do that no matter what his plan was. We’re not changing our mission for The Stones and Thanos.”

Natasha nodded curtly, eyes hard. “Agreed.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably. He thought they should do whatever it was Peter wanted from them, whenever they found out what that was. As much as he wanted to stop Thanos and save the world that pain, Peter was the one that had sent them here for his own reasons. Shouldn’t they trust him and do what he needed?

“Why were you fighting Steve?” Wanda asked, drawing Steve from his thoughts.

Tony glanced at Steve, frowning slightly in remembrance. “When we lived through these years last time, Steve refused to sign The Accords. So did you, Sam, and Clint. Me, Nat, Rhodey, and Vision did sign. We probably could have worked that out, but Bucky Barnes…”

“Is he here?” Steve interrupted.

“Yeah. I brought him back last night, once I was sure Ross wasn’t coming again." He paused a moment, then said, "Friday, ask Bucky to come in."

“Bucky Barnes is here!” Sam said loudly. “You found him?”

Steve nodded. “We did—No, we would have in a few weeks after he was framed for a terrorist attack.”

The door opened behind them, and Bucky came in, eyes darting around nervously.

Rhodey rounded on Tony, eyes blazing with anger. “Jesus, Tony! Do you know the position you’re putting me in with him in the same room?”

Tony clearly hadn’t thought about it. He looked downcast but determined. Steve knew it was a risk to expose Bucky to Rhodey, as he was bound by honor, orders, and duty to report Bucky's presence by his rank and occupation.

Steve didn't think he would report it, though. Rhodey had to know there were bigger things to worry about now that he was face to face with the truth about how they were here.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said.

Bucky smiled slightly. “So, you told them?”

"We did," Tony said. "Not that we had a good reason not to. Mind spoke to us through Vision, and Vision was with The Stones and Peter."

Bucky's wide eyes snapped to Vision, and he said, "Peter! How is he?”

“He’s struggling,” Steve answered before Vision could, wanting to soften the blow of the truth to save Bucky the fear for the kid he loved. “But he’s strong.” Bucky didn’t look appeased, but Steve spoke up, hoping to distract him. “Rhodey, Sam, and Wanda remember him from before, too, when he went to help them.”

“Okay, I need to hear the full story,” Clint said. “What the hell is going on, and what are you supposed to be doing? According to crazy-eyes over there, you’re doing it wrong.”

 “You want to tell them?” Tony asked Steve.

Steve nodded, braced himself, then said, “There is an alien Titan called Thanos, and he’s coming for us…”

xXx

As Steve finished, Sam held up a hand and said, "So, there's an alien with a scrotum for a chin that's going to snap his fingers and wipe away half the universe, then you're going on a… What did you call it? Time Heist? You’re going to get these Stones five years later and recreate the snap, which will bring everyone back just before an army descends on this place to wipe us out because the alien did his own time jump?”

“Basically, yeah,” Steve said.

Sam blew out a breath and slumped back against the cushions.

“And you died, Nat?” Clint asked.

Natasha nodded. “I died, but Peter brought me back.”

Tony listened to the other questions being asked around him, giving them only half of his attention. The rest of it was on Rhodey, who was staring down at his lap, brow furrowed. Tony wished he knew what his best friend was thinking, but Rhodey would only talk in his own time, so he didn't try to push.

Perhaps feeling Tony’s eyes on him, Rhodey looked up and smiled slightly. “You’ve got a kid, huh?”

Tony had decided before that he wasn't going to tell anyone else about Morgan because he didn't want Pepper to know until it happened naturally. He wasn't going to take away the joy of experiencing motherhood first-hand from her by giving her forewarning. Steve, Natasha, and Bucky had all agreed not to mention her either. He could tell them all about Peter, though, and he was eager to.

“Is that the hardest part of this whole thing to believe?” he asked.

Rhodey shook his head. “No, maybe not the hardest, but it’s way up there on the list. How did it even happen? I mean, you, a father.”

“Pete has this way of…” Tony laughed softly and shook his head as he thought of the kid he loved. “It’s too hard not to love him when you know him.”

Bucky chuckled and nodded his agreement, and Steve and Natasha were smiling.

“He’s a good kid,” Tony said. “I don’t mean well-behaved, hell no, but as a person, he's the best I've ever known. The fact he has The Infinity Stones is proof of it."

He wished Mind could have stayed longer, not just because he could have told them what it was he wanted them to do, also because Mind could have explained Peter and his goodness better than him.

“He’s Worthy,” he finished.

“What does that mean?” Wanda asked.

“It means he’s a good person in a way very few are,” Vision said. “He has pure intentions.”

Tony started to laugh, drawing all eyes to him.

“What’s funny?” Sam asked, sounding annoyed.

Tony calmed slightly, rubbing his chest, and said, “It’s just… that’s exactly what we’re talking about. Peter really is the best of us. Vis had him for what, two minutes, tops, and yet he sees it.”

"He was kind to me," Vision said, brow furrowed. "He knew I was confused and thought I might perhaps be scared. He apologized and told me I was safe and would be back here soon with Wanda." He glanced at Wanda and said, "I appreciated knowing that"

Wanda’s cheeks pinked slightly, and Tony turned away to hide his smile.

Of course, Peter wouldn't know, but Vision and Wanda were still just friends in this time. Their connection hadn't built to the love that it would be in the future. However, judging from the look on Vision's face, he already felt more than friendship; Wanda's light blush indicated more, too. Peter might be setting things in motion faster this time.

“So, he’s some kind of saint?” Clint asked doubtfully.

Tony snorted. "No way! He's really not. Hell, he can drive me crazy. He's a bit better where we are, matured some, but he's still a reckless idiot that—" He cut off and shook his head as he remembered how it had felt when he found out Peter had taken off alone after Kaecilius. "We're so worried about him because, before he sent us back, he was in a hospital bed with injuries I can't even begin to describe because the idiot took off on his own instead of doing what he was told and taking backup."

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. She hadn't been happy when Peter ducked out on her, and she’d felt guilty when he’d come back injured—though she’d have been helpless to protect him if she’d been there. Peter hadn’t put her under the Baby Monitor Protocol at that point, and, even as strong as he was, he’d been trashed. Natasha wouldn’t have stood a chance.

“If he’s as powerful as you say, how was he hurt?” Sam asked.

“Because there’s a bigger enemy than Thanos out there,” Tony said. “There’s someone called Ego.”

“And who’s that?” Clint asked.

"She was the source of creation,” Bucky said. “She was a single entity that broke herself apart, creating the pieces that became the seven Infinity Stones. Peter has six—Mind, Power, Space, Soul, Time, and Reality. We didn't know there was a seventh until later, but that one was called Ego, and apparently is part of Nemesis now—having combined herself with someone else. Ego was using someone called Kaecilius to attack Peter, as Nemesis, killing him in different times and dimensions, trying to find the right one. They couldn’t do it, though, because Peter is immortal.”

Rhodey whistled. “So, when you say he’ll live, you really mean it.”

“We do,” Tony said, voice heavy with remembered pain. “But he can still be hurt, and he was, badly.”

“But Vision said you’re doing it wrong,” Clint said, bringing them back to the mission in a way Tony resented, his thoughts filled with Peter. “It’s not about The Accords, so what if it’s about this Nemesis instead? Maybe that’s why you’re here—to stop them.”

Tony considered a moment. That idea hadn’t occurred to him. If it was Nemesis they were here for, how were they supposed to stop them? Nemesis was far more powerful than them.

“No,” Bucky said firmly. “It’s not that.”

“How do you know?” Clint asked.

“Because it’s Queens,” Steve said, apparently thinking along the same track as Bucky. “Queens, I mean Peter, would never send us after them after what Ego did to him. He wouldn’t put us in that kind of danger. It was us he sent—me, Tony, Natasha, and Bucky.  You were in the room with us when it happened, Rhodey, but you weren’t sent back, too.”

“I wonder why that is,” Bucky said thoughtfully. “Rhodey would have been good to have on our side.”

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m glad he didn’t. I don’t know what’s happening in the future, what’s happening with our bodies while we’re here, if time is moving at all, but at least Rhodey is there taking care of him.” Seeing Rhodey’s blank look, he went on. “Out of all of us, Peter is closest to me, you, Bucky, and Steve. We can’t be there, but you can. You’ll take care of him for us.”

"We're close, then?" Rhodey asked. "Me and this kid."

A satisfied smile spread across Tony’s face. “You really are. You’ll all understand it soon, once you meet him.”

"I think I get it now," Rhodey said. "In a way, at least. The kid I met was… different. He had this energy that I guess I liked, even though I thought he was a symptom of some kind of… episode." He huffed a laugh. "The fact he told me you were his father was one of the things that made me sure it wasn't real, but…"

“But he’s my son,” Tony said. “And you’re going to love him when you get to know him, which will happen soon. I’ve just got to fine-tune the details.”

Steve frowned, “What are you planning, Tony?”

“I think it’s best that The Avengers keep their distance from Spider-Man until The Accords are put to bed,” Tony said. “But no one can stop me hiring a promising high schooler to be my intern.”

"Smart," Bucky said approvingly.

"That's all great and all, and I'm glad you all get to see the kid, but haven't we got bigger problems right now?" Clint asked. "Maybe we're not facing this Ego or Nemesis, whoever, but this Thanos is coming, we’ve got the Sokovia Accords to work out, and didn't you say someone's going to frame Barnes for a terrorist attack? Not to mention the fact you don’t know what the kid actually sent you here for!"

Steve’s smile faded. “Yeah. I know.”

“We've got time," Tony said. “And what Peter wants isn’t the issue right now. We’ve got one mission already.”

“How long do we have?” Wanda asked.

“Thanos comes May 2018 and destroys everything,” Tony answered.

“No,” Bucky said. “Thanos comes May 2018 and dies. Whatever else we’re doing wrong, we’re doing that part right. We’ll wait until we can talk to Mind again to find out the rest.”

Tony nodded. “May 2018.”

They would find out what Peter wanted from them in time, and they’d deal with it. What Tony cared about even more was stopping Thanos so he would never have to live without his son again.

xXx

There was a knock on the door of the dingy apartment, and Ross strode across the room then paused before opening it.

The man waiting on the other side was expected, wanted, but Ross still felt a curl of dislike for him. This man had complicated his plan before.

Ross had hoped to have The Avengers under his control, following the rules of the Sokovia Accords, but his interference had split them and left Ross with only a few to rule over while the others lived on the run, outside of his control and even his direction.

“We need him,” Ego said, her tone scolding. “Do I need to remind you that this was your idea?”“

Ross gave his head a small shake and said, “He is who we need, but I don’t have to like it.”

“ Perhaps not, but you will not show it. Let him in.”

Ross sighed and opened the door, then stepped back to allow the man to enter, which he did, looking around at the mold-stained walls and battered furniture.

Ross hated being in places like this, but he had to play his new role as Nemesis close to his chest. If anyone in the White House found out what he was doing, he would lose everything. He had acquired a few anonymous places like this over New York and outside DC for his use.

“Mr. Zemo,” he greeted. “Thank you for coming.”

Zemo scowled. “I am a Colonel, General Ross..”

“Of course, forgive me,” Ross said, though he was internally raging at the correction. Zemo was nothing now, not a commissioned soldier; he was a tool.

“Control yourself!” Ego growled.

“Why did you want me here?” Zemo asked.

Ross offered him a seat at the dirty table, but Zemo refused it and stood with his arms crossed over his chest. Ross did not sit either, not willing to give Zemo the dominant position in the meeting. 

“I know what you are planning,” he said.

Zemo shook his head. “I’m planning nothing.”

“No?” Ross asked. “You do not intend to interrogate Vasily Karpov to retrieve the information about the remaining Winter Soldiers? You do not want to know the trigger words for James Barnes?"

Zemo's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened a moment before he regained control and spoke calmly. "I see your intelligence services are more proficient than I thought. However, the fact you wanted to meet me here means this is not a sanctioned mission from your government."

“It is not,” Ross agreed. “I brought you here as I want you to serve me instead of your own ends.”

Zemo snorted. “And what is to stop me killing you here and now? You must know I did not come unarmed.”

A smug smile curled Ross’ lips. “And you know I did not come unarmed either. I will make you an offer, though. Take whatever weapons you brought with you and use them on me.  When you see that I remain unharmed, you will understand what I am offering you, what power I hold and why it would be unwise for you to deny me.”

“A gunshot will be heard by humans,” Ego said.

Ross wasn’t worried about that. A gunshot in a neighborhood like this was not going to draw people. In a place like this, you locked your doors when you heard gunfire and hoped your loved ones were safe.

Zemo took the gun from the back of his pants and aimed it at Ross’s head. For a moment, it looked like he would shoot, and then he lowered the gun and said, “I am not stupid. If I kill you, I will be hunted and killed in return.”

“Perhaps,” Ross said. “I do not want you to be killed, though. I have a use for you.”

Zemo’s lip curled. “Why would I do anything for you?”

”Enough,” Ego snapped. “Stop wasting time. Do it!”

“Tell me what to do?” Ross said.

“You can start by leaving me alone,” Zemo said.

Ross smirked. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Get me closer,” Ego instructed.

Ross took a step forward, and then he felt his hands rising without his control. His fingers settled over Zemo's temples, and white light poured from them, spreading over his face. Zemo’s mouth opened with what appeared to be a silent scream, and Ross watched curiously. He could feel Ego working within his mind and body, spreading her power through his hands and into the former soldier.

When she released her hold on Ross’ body and withdrew back into his mind, she said, “Now, just tell him what you want him to do.”

Ross nodded in return to her and then said, “Zemo, can you hear me?”

Zemo nodded, and the look of scathing disappeared. He now looked at Ross with awe—as he should.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now, I know you have been looking for Vasily Karpov, but I can end your search. I will tell you where he is. You need to retrieve a book from him, a red notebook, and then I will give you your next target.”

“What is my target?”

"It is in Siberia. There is a Hydra base in which there are five fully trained Winter Soldiers in the ice, waiting to be placed under your command. I want you to kill four of them; they're unnecessary. I only need one, it doesn't matter which, under your command."

“What will my commands to them be?”

“They will come in time. Use the words you find in the red book to bring the one you choose into line, and then contact me. I will give you your next instructions when you have them."

Zemo nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

Ross smiled smugly. Though Ego had told him they were capable of it, together as Nemesis, it was awe-inspiring to see mind control in use. If Ego was to be believed, and he had no reason to doubt her, Zemo would throw himself into a fire now if Ross commanded it.

He didn’t want self-immolation, though. He wanted a Winter Soldier to command, prepare, and then put to work. Recruiting a Winter Soldier was not the full extent of his plan, though. When Romanoff had dumped all Hydra files on the internet, he’d found information on her fellow Black Widow assassins from Hydra’s studies and surveillance of them, one of which he would find and use. When he had his soldiers, he would send them to Queens

Spider-Man protected the people of his home from muggings and drug dealers, but he had never faced anything like what Ross was prepared to unleash upon them; they were going to suffer while the Asset stood helpless.

Ross would make him Unworthy if it was the last thing he ever did. It would take time, he knew, months to put his plans into action, to build what he needed, but he had that time. The boy would not be within reach of The Stones for seven years, though he would be gone for five of them. Ross had two years to break him, to make him Unworthy, and he could be patient.

One way or another, Spider-Man was going to break. 

Chapter Text

Rhodey sat down in the kitchen of Tony’s penthouse and stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows as he sipped his coffee.

He was  feeling a little on edge. It had been a week since Steve and Tony shared the implausible story of their presence and of Peter Parker, and today Rhodey was going to meet the kid himself; though, technically, he supposed it was the second time meeting him.

His memory of the kid in Afghanistan was confusing and bizarre. He remembered the strange eyes, the bright smile and energy of the kid, not to mention the fact that he had so clearly known Rhodey while Rhodey had no idea who he was. He’d dismissed it in the years between, told himself it was some kind of hallucination or dream from extreme stress and lack of sleep during one of the most trying times of his life.

If what Tony and the others said was true, though, and Rhodey no longer doubted them in his heart, that kid was about to become one of the most important people in his life.

Tony said Rhodey was basically his uncle. Rhodey already had a nephew and two nieces, but he'd never imagined Tony would give him another kid to love. If Peter Parker had found a place in Tony's heart, he had to be pretty special—special in more ways than that which The Infinity Stones gave him, ways which Tony and Steve had not been able to explain enough to satisfy Rhodey.

He finished his coffee and glanced at his watch. It was after ten, a full thirty minutes after Tony said he wanted to leave. Rhodey was confused by the delay, as Tony had obviously been excited to go to this science fair to see his kid. He'd emphasized that Rhodey couldn't be late more than once.

That was funny coming from Tony, who was never known for his timekeeping and had once kept Rhodey waiting three hours before their flight to Afghanistan. That trip had become a nightmare when Tony had chosen a different Humvee and been kidnapped. Getting the radio call that his convoy was under attack was one of the worst moments of Rhodey's life, and getting to the scene and finding that Tony was missing, not even a body, thank god, to find had been hell. The three months that had followed were still a haunting memory. And then that kid had come.

Peter Parker, whom Rhodey would love, had come to ease his pain.

Another five minutes ticked by, and Rhodey got to his feet and said, “Friday, where’s Tony?”

“He’s in his bedroom, Colonel,” she reported. “He’s changing his clothes again.”

“Since when was Tony a fashionista,” Rhodey muttered, heading to Tony’s bedroom.

He knocked once, then threw open the door and said, "We're late, Tone, and you were the one that wanted to be on time for this, so… What are you doing?"

Tony was standing in front of the mirror, wearing a white vest and black boxers, and in each hand was a pair of pants. One pair was dark-wash jeans, and the others were navy dress pants. He didn’t even seem to have noticed Rhodey’s arrival.

As Rhodey watched, he lifted the dress pants, held them up to examine, and then lowered them again with a curse.

“No matter what outfit you choose, he’s still going to see Iron Man,” Rhodey said.

Tony startled and spun around, eyes wide. He stared at Rhodey for a moment as if not recognizing him and then relaxed aand said, “That’s the problem—I don’t want him to see Iron Man.”

“Okay,” Rhodey said slowly. “Who do you want him to see?”

“Me! Tony!”

Rhodey stared at him a moment, understanding dawning slowly. Tony was about to see the kid he loved as a son, and the kid was going to have no idea. He wouldn’t see his dad; he wouldn’t love him as Steve and Natasha assured Rhodey he did in the future. He was going to see Iron Man, superhero, or perhaps, best case scenario, Tony Stark, genius billionaire. Either way, it wasn’t going to be what Tony wanted.

Rhodey struggled to know what to say. He wanted to reassure Tony, but what could he say when he didn’t know this kid or how Tony and he had bonded before.

He took a breath and worked through the problem in his mind, then asked, “Did you love Peter from the beginning?”

Tony frowned, considering. “No. It took a while. It was complicated. I think it grew from the beginning without me realizing it. At first, he was just an asset for the fight against Steve, and, yes, I know what kind of asshole that makes me, but you don't know what the situation was, what was at stake. I wanted to do right by him after, though. I'd made him a new suit for the fight, and I let him keep it. It was safer than the onesie he was running around in. I created all kinds of features and put protections in place; I figured that'd keep him safe."

“Okay, so you weren’t an asshole. You tried to protect him. When did it become about more than that?”

Tony threw the pants down on the bed and sat down. “When I nearly lost him. I messed up, and so did he. He was out of his depth against this asshole, and I thought I could tell him to stand down and take care of it myself. I got the FBI onto it, and I figured it’d be okay. Peter was a stubborn little jerk, though. He went after these arms dealers that were using alien tech, made a mistake, and almost got a ferry full of civilians killed. I was mad as all hell.” He shook his head, eyes distant. “It definitely didn’t feel like love then.”

“But that changed?”

"Yeah. I took the suit back and told him to stand down. I thought he'd go back to his old ways of just patrolling the neighborhood, stopping muggers and getting stranded cats out of trees. He didn't, though, and he shouldn't have had to. The arms dealers came after my store of alien tech, hijacked the plane it was all on. Hell, Rhodey, if they'd gotten hold of it, it would have been a disaster. The damage they could have done…" He winced

“But Peter stopped them?” Rhodey prompted.

"He did. He crashed the plane on Coney Island and caught the arms dealer, a souped-up villain with a damn flying wing-suit like a knockoff Falcon—he even called himself The Vulture. Peter could have died in the crash, and then that asshole went after him, really hurt him.” He smiled slightly. “I think that was when, after that. it became about more than responsibility. I always liked him, even though he could be annoying. He was driving Happy crazy, spamming his inbox, and leaving rambling voicemails, but he was a good kid. After the thing with the plane, I made his internship real, brought him here to work in the lab with me. I started to care about him.”

“He does sound special,” Rhodey said.

“He is.” Tony drew a deep breath. “But I didn’t know I loved him until I lost him. Steve told you me and Pete were on a different planet when Thanos snapped. He died in my arms, just drifted away into dust. He was scared, in pain, and I couldn’t save him; I couldn't even find the right words to soothe him. I only knew when he was gone, with what it did to me, that I loved him, and then it was too late to tell him."

“But he came back,” Rhodey said. “And you told him then?”

Tony rubbed a hand over his face. “I told him. It still took a little time, since I was an idiot about saying it, but I made sure he knew I loved him, that he was my son.  He is my son, Rhodey, and I do love him, but he’s not going to know that when I see him.”

"He's not," Rhodey agreed. "But this is your chance. You said you didn't see it before, that you weren't there, but you can be this time. You're not going to recruit Spider-Man for a fight. You're going to see Peter Parker. You shouldn't even tell him you know he's Spider-Man until The Accords are dealt with, as it puts you in a prime position for prosecution if Ross finds out you know. You have a chance to get to know Peter as he is now that you missed before. He's not sixteen; he's not the bearer of these crazy power stones. He’s Spider-Man, sure, but he’s also just a kid, and you get to see him grow—you can help him grow.”

Tony stared into the mirror, blinking drowsily, and then he jerked as if shocked, and a broad smile spread over his face. "I get a do-over!"

“You do.” Rhodey grinned. “And it’s probably going to be the best thing to ever happen to you.”

A smile quirked Tony's lips, and he shook his head, something in his eyes that Rhodey couldn't define. "It's going to be one of the best things," he said enigmatically. He got to his feet, looked back at the pants on the bed, and said, "I'll aim for Tony Stark instead of Iron Man, but if I screw that up, I'll have time to show him the truth." He grabbed the dress pants, put them on and fastened them, then grabbed an AC/DC shirt from the pile on the chair and put it on. He checked himself in the mirror, then pulled on a sports jacket and grabbed his keys from the dresser.

“I’m ready,” he said.

Rhodey looked him up and down, saw Tony Stark at his best, and said, “You are. Let’s go.”

Tony ran a hand through his hair then strode out of the room with a spring in his step.

Rhodey thought he’d gotten through to him, and he was pleased. Now he could look forward to meeting Peter Parker without worrying about his best friend.

xXx

Rhodey hadn't spent much time in high schools. He'd done a couple of career days for his nieces and nephew, but that was a while ago, and they'd been younger. In fact, he didn't think he'd stepped into a high school since he'd been a student in one.

The memories came rushing back at him, though, when they walked in. He remembered his school had smelled of bleach left by the overzealous janitor and was always crowded with clamoring voices, the clatter of locker doors, and laughter. The sounds were absent this time, it was unusually quiet, but the smells were the same, and the same rows of lockers were lining the walls.

Tony looked around, too, his eyes seeming to take it all in.

“Brings back memories?” Rhodey asked.

Tony snorted. “Not even a little. You’re forgetting, my high school experience lasted one semester before I tested into college. It’s just I’ve never been here before, and this is a huge part of Peter’s life. Happy used to pick him up and run him to the compound for our lab sessions, so I never saw the place apart from when I drove past on my way to his apartment a couple times.” He smiled slightly. “It’s just nice to see it for myself, this part of his world.”

Rhodey still wasn't used to this version of his best friend; he was so vastly different. Tony, as he'd known him two weeks ago, was impulsive and terse. He isolated himself and protected his heart at all costs. There were only a few people that made it past his walls to love and be loved by him. Tony now seemed to be open and free in a way Rhodey had never seen.

He wondered how much of that was Peter Parker and how much was just the natural transition of the additional seven years he'd lived.

A little down the hall was a girl standing beside an easel that bore a placard welcoming them to the science fair. She was writing something on a clipboard, but she looked up when their footsteps reached her. There was a beat in which she smiled politely and said, "Welcome to…" and then she registered who she was talking to, and her mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened.

Rhodey wasn’t under any delusions that it was him stunning her into silence. He was War Machine, people knew who he was, but he was nowhere near as iconic as Iron Man. Even before that life had dawned, Tony had been famous as the genius, billionaire, playboy, and whatever other tags the media had for him that week.

"Hi," Tony said, his smile gentler than it would have been even only two weeks ago. "We're here for the science fair."

She nodded, eyes wide, and then seemed to snap back to herself. A blush colored her cheeks. “Of course. Sorry, I was just…”

“It’s fine,” Tony said. “Colonel Rhodes is always stunning people into silence with his good looks. I’m immune after so long, but it’s hard when you’re not used to it.”

She giggled, relaxing visibly. “Well, welcome to Midtown High. The fair is in the gym. I’ll take you there.”

“Great, thanks,” Tony said.

She set down her clipboard, and they followed her along the halls. Tony asked her about her life at school, questions which he seemed genuinely interested in the answers to.

Rhodey was struck once again by the difference in his best friend. He thought this was going to take time for him to get used to. It wasn't a bad thing. In fact, it was nice to see the gentler side of Tony shared with more people than just him, Pepper, and Happy.  It was different, though—definitely a little jarring.

Voices grew louder as they advanced along the hall, peaking as they reached open double doors and being joined by beeps and sounds of machinery, which Rhodey supposed made sense at a science fair for advanced STEM students.

The girl gestured them ahead, and Tony took the lead inside, then stopped and looked around. Rhodey stepped to his side and took in the room. A couple of dozen tables were set up around the room with students displaying their creations, other people milling around them, and younger children dancing between the tables that Rhodey guessed were siblings of exhibiting students.

“He’s there,” Tony breathed, his eyes wide and fixed on the opposite corner of the room.

Rhodey followed his gaze and saw the kid from the picture Friday had shown them. Peter looked even younger in person, and even happier: he was smiling more broadly, deep in conversation with a boy that looked around the same age, gesticulating wildly and head bobbing.

“We going to go talk to him?” Rhodey asked, watching Tony’s face carefully as he worked through the emotions of shock, awe, sadness, then joy at the sight of his son.

“We are,” Tony said.

He thanked the girl that had led them there, hovering at his side still, and then started to cross the room. People began to notice them as they entered, conversations trailing off and then starting again with more excitement.

Rhodey watched Peter as he took in the change in the room, and he saw the moment he realized who was there—Iron Man himself—as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. His friend was in no better condition. His hand was over his chest, and his mouth was working fast.

Before they could go far, a man in glasses with neatly trimmed brown hair and beard intercepted them and said, “Hello, gentlemen. I’m Roger Harrington. Can I help you?”              

His voice was calm and polite, but his eyes showed the turmoil behind the professional façade. Rhodey supposed Tony Stark was pretty admirable to a teacher in a STEM school as well as to its students.         

“Tony Stark. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Harrington,” Tony said, extending a hand to the teacher who shook it. “This is James Rhodes.”

"Yes, I know," Mr. Harrington said with a small smile. "I have to admit, I didn't imagine I’d see either of you gentlemen at our little fair."

Tony smiled ingratiatingly. “Well, I wanted to get a look at the kind of talent you're hiding here. As you may know, my company has internships for promising students."

“Yes, graduate students,” Mr. Harrington said. “It’s something many of my students aim for.”

“Usually graduates,” Tony said. “But I am thinking of creating a placement for someone younger.” He paused. “Or more than one student.”

Though the teacher seemed to miss it, Rhodey saw the flash of distaste on Tony’s face with the addition. He supposed he was less interested in setting something up for a bunch of high school students when there was only one he wanted to see.

"That would be great," Mr. Harrington said. "We've got so much promising talent here that could learn so much from you and your team. Okay… who to start with…" His eyes roved the room, and he said, "I think—" but cut off as a kid approached them, his hand extended to Tony and a confident gleam in his eyes.

Tony looked at the kid, then took his hand and shook it.

“Well then, we’ll start here, “Mr. Harrington said with a strained look. “This is Eugene Thompson, one of our students.”

"Flash Thompson," the kid corrected. "And it's great to meet you, Mr. Stark."

Rhodey watched Tony’s face, wanting to see the difference in his expectations of Tony as he knew him to who he was now when faced with the confident kid. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was definitely not for anger to darken his eyes and for him to drop the kid’s hand like it was suddenly red hot.

“Nice to meet you, Flash,” Rhodey said politely.

“Would you like to see my project?” Flash asked. “I’m working on upgrading a Roomba to play music as it works, changing track with each setting.”

Tony’s lip twitched. “I think someone’s ahead of you there, Eugene. I know another kid that already worked that out.” His eyes narrowed. “She’s five.”

The kid's mouth dropped open, and he gaped like a fish for a moment. Rhodey was curious to see how he'd recover—also to know what five-year-old girl Tony knew—but Tony was already looking away and asking the teacher, "Do you have something more original for us to see?"

Mr. Harrington looked a little amused. "Actually, I do. If you could go back to your station, Flash..." His eyes scanned the room again, settling on Peter, who was carefully looking down at something on his table, not staring like his friend and so many others in the room. "Peter has something you should absolutely see."

Tony's smile grew and his eyes shone as Mr. Harrington led them to Peter's table. Rhodey could tell Tony was struggling to not stride ahead, to get there faster, but he was doing well. When this was over, Rhodey would be able to tell him he'd handled it like a pro, with minimal visible overreaction.

So far, at least.

Peter and his friend looked up as they approached, his friend’s mouth gaping and eyes wide, and Peter looked like a deer in headlights. It was actually kind of endearing to see him like that, knowing what he was going to be to Tony one day. Though Peter had no idea—he was reacting to meeting a superhero, or perhaps it was the genius side of Tony he admired—this was his first meeting with the man that was going to be a father to him one day.

Rhodey realized then he had a privileged position to see this happen. He'd get to see Tony on this journey of meeting and building a bond with his son—though the bond was fully there on Tony's side already.

When they reached the boys, Tony’s hands twitched as if he wanted to reach for Peter, but he controlled the urge and merely smiled.

"Gentlemen, this is Peter Parker and Ned Leeds," Mr. Harrington said. "They're two of our most promising students. Peter, would you like to show Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes what you've made?"

Peter’s friend, Ned, merely stared, but Peter snapped into life, eyes gleaming with excitement and hands a little shaky as he gestured to the table and said, “Yeah. Totally. Well, I was working on a powered exoskeleton for a stroke victim who has weakness in one leg.”

Tony’s eyes widened, and he moved forward, seemingly automatically, to examine the contraption.

“My Grams,” Ned rasped, then snapped his mouth shut and blushed furiously.

"Yeah," Peter said. "Uh, so… Ned's grandmother had a stroke six months ago, and she's not been able to walk since because her left leg was weak. So I took a passive exoskeleton schematic, which was much cheaper to build than companies are charging for it, which is grossly unfair. I mean, they're basically penalizing a whole group of people because they can't afford the stuff they need to lead more independent lives. That's really messed up, right?" 

He blinked up at Tony, who was staring at him with a look of adoration in his eyes that Rhodey hoped Peter missed.  There was more than adoration there, though. Rhodey could see the pride brimming over. Tony was very obviously impressed by what he was seeing. He also seemed to have lost all power of speech, so Rhodey took up the reins for him.

“You’re right, Peter: it’s very unfair.”

He moved closer to the table and examined what Peter had made. It was crudely built, obviously lacking the materials which would have made it better, but the tech behind it was solid. Rhodey could see the concealed circuit board and the hydraulics he’d crafted out of what looked like small engine parts.

“This is really great, Peter,” he said. “You did this alone?”

Peter blushed and nodded. “I had help. Coding isn’t really my thing, so Ned gave me a couple lessons.”

Ned, who had been basically nonverbal with awe, snapped to life at this point and gabbled, "No! It was Peter! I hardly had to teach him anything. He's the one that found the way to make it work, because he didn't have schematics for the powered ones so he was basically working from scratch.”

“I’m sure you were very helpful, Ned,” Tony said. “Is coding your thing?”

Ned looked like he was going to faint, and his head bobbed with a nod. “Uh… yes, sir. I know some, but Peter is good, too.”

Tony smiled at him, then turned back to Peter. "Have you done a test drive on this?"

"Yes, sir. His grandmother's been using it for a week, ever since I finished it. It's not good enough yet, I need to fine-tune it, and it'd be better if I could thin the design to make it sleeker and less bulky, but she was walking, right, Ned?"

Ned licked his lips. “Totally! I mean… Yes, sir. She really loves Peter right now.”

“See, he’s brilliant,” Mr. Harrington said.

“You are,” Tony said, eyes on Peter. “This is incredible for your level of education.” He turned to encompass Ned in his words. “With a friend like this backing you up, you’ve got a great future ahead of you.”

Ned’s color grew even more, and he looked down, seeming unsteady on his feet. Peter, on the other hand, seemed to be working through something, his eyes distant and gleaming. Rhodey wondered what that was about, but he couldn't ask Tony if he had any insight until they were alone.  

Tony patted Peter’s shoulder and said, “Really, kid, this is great.”

Peter looked up at him, and Rhodey said that there was awe there. Not the same awe of seeing someone he loved as there was in Tony looking at him, but the awe of someone he admired seeing something admirable in him, too. Tony stared at him a moment and then seemed to snap back to himself, drop his hand, and clear his throat.

“Would you like to see some of our other student’s projects?” Mr. Harrington asked.

Rhodey knew Tony would rather stay here and talk to Peter until forced to leave his side, but that wasn’t fitting their cover of being there, so he said, “Yeah, we’d love that, right, Tone?”

Tony dragged his eyes from Peter and nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Mr. Harrington led them to the next table, talking about the potential of all his students, and Rhodey stayed in step at Tony’s side. Mr. Harrington asked if they would be willing to announce the winner and hand out the prize, and Rhodey agreed for them both as Tony was distracted again, probably leaving his thoughts behind with his son.

Mr. Harrington confided in a low voice that Peter’s project was getting first prize, a fifty-dollar gift card, and Tony smiled then. Rhodey guessed he was pleased at the thought of another reason to be close to his son and to talk to him.

Rhodey didn’t know how long Tony would be able to resist before creating the internship for Peter, if he would have the patience of at least building a pretense of seeing other students first. Either way, he was willing to bet that Peter would be an official Stark Industries intern before the month was out. 

For himself, Rhodey couldn't wait. He wanted to have a chance to speak to Peter without his friend and teacher watching, to get to know the kid Tony loved and to see what else he was capable of. He would try working his schedule to give him as much time in New York as he could from here on out. Not only did The Avengers need him while they worked through the coming issues and threats, but he also wanted as much time with Peter as he could get. 

This kid was going to be his nephew one day, and Rhodey was impatient to build that relationship.

Chapter Text

Tony pulled the car to a halt outside Peter's apartment building and looked out at the street. The very first time he'd come here, he'd been stressed out of his mind about the situation with Steve, questioning his decision to bring Spider-Man into the fight but driven by desperation. It was wholly different this time. He was driven by excitement now, about to see his kid again.

Last time, he’d  already been following Spider-Man’s antics for a while, wondering about where his abilities came from and making schematics for how he could improve his suit—though anything would have been an improvement on the pajamas he was swinging around in. He’d had vague plans to reach out to him and arrange something, but he’d thought it would be in a controlled manner at the right time.

When the situation with Steve arose, he put time into tracking a name down for Spider-Man, and he'd been stunned to find he was a fourteen-year-old boy. He'd assumed he’d be in college, at least. That had almost made him falter in his plans to recruit him, but only almost. He'd told himself he would make sure the kid kept his distance, just webbing people up, out of harm's way, though that was ultimately not what had happened. Decided on his course, he’d then made this journey into Queens and arrived at the door of Spider-Man’s apartment and met May Parker.

Tony regretted that he'd had so little time to get to know May, and he wished he'd given her more time after The Snap. It had been too hard, though; her expectation for him to make it right had weighed on him. He’d kept up to date with what she was doing through Happy. Then the awful news of her death had come, one of the few times he’d seen Happy cry, and he’d realized it was too late.

May Parker had been a great woman, and she'd helped to raise an amazing kid. Now, preparing to see her again, Tony was a little nervous. This wouldn't be anywhere near as emotional as seeing Peter had been the week before, but it was still going to be tough.

He pushed open the main door, passed the elevator, which was out of order, and went up the stairs. The Parkers were on the fifth floor, and the walk gave him time to prepare himself.

He'd talked through this meeting with Pepper the night before, as they'd laid in bed together. Tony relished her presence again, even though it had only been technically a short time without her for him, given the time travel. She'd told him to go without expectations, to just be in the moment with May and Peter, and to enjoy what happened.

Tony felt he was ready to do that, prepared, as he knocked on Peter and May’s door and waited for it to be answered.

This was a different day to when he’d come here the first time around, on which he’d caught May baking on an afternoon off work, but he knew she was home today, too, as he’d checked her schedule with some quick hacking through Queens Memorial Hospital’s firewall. Peter would be home from school within the hour, so Tony should have enough time with May to say what he needed before he arrived.

There was the sound of the lock disengaging, and May pulled open the door. There were only the slightest differences physically in May now to the woman he'd seen last, fewer stress-lines on the face and no weariness in her eyes. Her reaction was almost identical to the first time he'd met her, though. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, and then she snapped to life and said, “Mr. Stark?" in a tone that indicated she wasn't quite sure he was real.

"Call me Tony." He held out a hand, which she shook, propping the door open with her foot. "I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment."

She looked just as bewildered as she had the first time, no idea what Iron Man could want from her, but she was just as gracious, inviting him in and offering him coffee and some of the Bundt cake she’d made.

Remembering the date loaf he'd endured last time, he said, "Thank you, but I had a late lunch, so I'm full. I'd love a coffee, though."

She led him into the living room, gestured him to a seat on the couch while she darted into the kitchen to fetch the coffee.

She clattered around in the kitchen, calling, "Cream or sugar?" both of which Tony refused, and then she came back with two mugs. One of them said, 'World's Best Aunt' in shaky painted pink letters, which made Tony think it was handmade by Peter, and the other was a white mug with the picture of his Iron Man mask on the side.

He wondered if it was a joke, which May was known to make, and then she caught him examining it and laughed.

 “Sorry. It’s my nephew’s mug. I didn’t think.”

“It’s fine,” Tony said. “I like it. I don’t usually see much of my own merchandise in use.”

She sipped her coffee, set the mug down, then turned herself so she was facing him with her leg tucked under her. “So, how can I help you, Tony?”

“I’m here to talk about Peter,” he said. “I don’t know if he told you that I met him…”

She laughed. “Told me? He’s not stopped raving about it all week. I don’t know if you realized, but Peter is a huge fan of yours. He has been since he was a kid, even before the Iron Man thing started. He used to have your Time Magazine cover pinned to his bedroom wall.”

Tony felt warmth kindle in his chest—he’d never known that about his son.

“And it only got more intense with Iron Man,” she went on. “Then you actually saved his life, and the obsession grew and grew.”

“I saved his life?” Tony asked, bewildered.

She nodded, a hand settling at the base of her throat. "We took him to the Stark Expo as a treat for his great report card. We were there the first night when you were there, and he enjoyed it so much we took him back. That was the night the Hammer Drones attacked."

Tony’s free hand fisted as he remembered, and he set his mug down on the table. He had no idea Peter had been there. Damn, he could have been killed. Tony could have lost him before ever having a chance to know him.

“Me and Ben, my late husband, were separated from him in the chaos.” She shook her head, smiling ruefully. “Though it wasn’t just that; Peter slipped away from us intentionally. He was eight years old, helpless, but Ben had brought him this Iron Man mask and toy gauntlet, and he thought he could use them to fight the drones.”

Icy horror slipped down Tony’s spine as he remembered, and his breath became hard to catch. He battled to control himself, calling on all his experience in dealing with panic attacks learned over the years in which his PTSD had been at its worst. He clearly wasn’t good enough, though, as May grew concerned. 

“Tony?” she said, hand settling on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, dug deep for calm, and drew a deep and shaky breath. “He was the kid that faced off with the drone,” he said.

“That’s what he said happened. He was such a good kid, so brave, and he told us he wanted to stop them, to protect people. He was facing one of them, and I’m not sure what happened, but it sounded like the drone was about to kill him, then you arrived and blasted it before it could.”

“I remember,” Tony said, tone calmer now as the horror faded and his knowledge that Peter was okay in this time settled over him. “I remember that kid. Damn.”

“That was Peter,” she said fondly. “And the thing he was most excited about was that you’d spoken to him.”

“Nice work, kid,” Tony recited, the scene playing out in his mind like a video reel.

“That’s what you said. I think that was the proudest moment of his life until you showed up at his science fair. That blew everything else out of the water.”

Tony took a breath, centered himself, and got back on topic so he could have May primed before Peter got home. "That's why I'm here. As you can probably imagine, I see innovations from the brightest minds in the country—hell, the world—at Stark Industries. My people are the best, but what I saw from Peter was outstanding for his age and level of education. I have done some work with powered exoskeletons myself, and I know how tough it is. The fact he was able to create that in a high school workshop is incredible.” He planted his hands on his knees and said, “I want to be a part of Peter’s education.”

She blinked, and her lips parted, but she didn't speak.

"Stark Industries has interns. They're usually graduate students. In fact, we've never taken anyone younger than a college senior before, but Peter has so much potential. He's a genius."

She nodded slowly. "He really is; I mean, his IQ is genius level. He was tested in middle school. They wanted him to skip grades, but Ben and I wanted him to have as normal a childhood as possible. His teachers at Midtown talked about him testing into college, but… He's so young still.”

Tony nodded. "You made the right choice. I went to MIT when I was fifteen, and I wouldn't recommend that to anyone. I was a fish out of water there in everything except the actual classes. I was just too young to be in that environment."

She looked relieved that their decision was being affirmed. "That's what we thought. He's very mature for his age, he's had to be with the things that have happened to him, but he's also innocent at the same time. He has this lightness that I don’t want him to lose.”

Tony understood what she was saying completely. He had seen that lightness for himself, even in the direst circumstances. On a far-off planet, preparing to face a foe that was far more powerful than any of them, Peter had been quipping about aliens planting eggs in his chest. And then, on his arrival on a battlefield that was unlike anything any of The Avengers had seen before, the odds stacked against them, he’d been filled with that eager energy as he’d reunited with Tony.

That lightness was part of what made him worthy, Tony believed, and he’d seen it snuffed out in Peter’s weeks of catatonia.

Tony nodded. “I only spoke to him for a few minutes, but I saw what you’re talking about. I would like to see that grow in him, as well as his experience and knowledge. There is a program Stark Industries funds called The September Foundation. We fund scholarships and give grants to students. We just approved funding to all MIT students to run their projects this year.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and he guessed she was tabulating the kind of expense of such a scheme.

“I want to give Peter an internship through that scheme. If you don’t mind me asking, how is his high school education funded?”

He already knew the answer; Peter had won a scholarship, as the school's fees were high and May could never have afforded it otherwise. However, he didn't want her to think he'd been spying on her, even though that was precisely what he'd done.

“He has a scholarship through to senior year, as long as he keeps his grades up,” she said. “Which he does. Peter works really hard in school."

Tony nodded, knowing that already. "Then we can provide him with a scholarship for college. With the potential I believe Peter has and the funds we can commit, he has a chance to study anywhere in the country or even the world. That’s what I want to offer him.”

May clapped a hand to her chest. “That’s… It’s incredible. I know he’s thought about how we’re going to fund college, and the scholarships are even more competitive for the kind of schools he’d be applying to. This would take away all that pressure, leaving him to concentrate on school and being a kid.”

Tony knew better. Peter could only concentrate on being a kid when he wasn’t concentrating on being a hero for Queens. However, that would be different this time. Without Thanos to fight on Titan, without Toomes—whom Tony would deal with himself—Peter would not face that coming of age so young.

Peter would have more options for his life that didn’t involve fighting to save the world. He would never put that gauntlet on and snap, giving him immeasurable power but also taking away too much of his innocence by placing responsibility for a universe on his shoulders and removing his mortality. 

“So, I have your permission to make the offer?” Tony asked.

She started to nod and then faltered. “What exactly would you want from him? I know you can offer him a lot, but Peter takes his responsibilities seriously. I don’t want him exhausting himself between his schoolwork and what you need him to do at this internship.”

Tony held up a hand. "I promise, I won't be putting pressure on him that he can't handle. Ideally, with your agreement, I would like him to come to The Avengers Tower twice a week, one weekday afternoon, after school, and another day at the weekend. He'd be working directly with me, so I'd have control of how much he does. I think that, between you and I, we can make sure he finds time for all his commitments while also being a regular teenager."

While also swinging around the city as Spider-Man, he amended mentally. 

May considered, working through what he had said carefully, as she was predisposed to do when it came to the wellbeing of her nephew.

“I think you’re offering him something amazing,” she said. “And I know this could do wonders for Peter’s future. Honestly, I worry I can’t do enough for him. He’s far ahead of me intellectually, and I can’t keep up with him. My husband was more scientifically inclined academically, and he could help Peter, but I am at a loss a lot of the time. I think you provide for him in ways that have nothing to do with finances.”

“I will do whatever I can,” Tony said, his voice full of sincerity.

“Then you have my total support to offer this internship. If Peter wants it, and I can almost guarantee he will, I’ll do whatever I need to make it happen.”

“Thank you, May,” he said, slipping into familiarity with her first name without thought. “Believe me, the chance to do this for Peter does just as much for me as it will him.”

She looked a little puzzled, and he realized he’d been a little too honest for his cover, but before she could say anything, he heard the door open in the hall and Peter’s voice calling, “Hey, May. You home?”

“In here,” May called.

Footsteps approached, and Peter said, "Did you see, there's this crazy car outside. Looks real…" He appeared in the doorway, and his mouth dropped open with a soft,"Oh."

“We’ve got a guest,” May said.

“I… uh… yeah, I see.”

“Mr. Parker, good to see you again,” Tony said, getting to his feet and extending a hand.

Peter snapped to life, circling the back of the couch, and coming to shake Tony’s hand. Tony felt the slight tremor of Peter’s grip, and he had to remind himself that this was not his son, not yet, so the nerves were to be expected.

“Mr. Stark came with an offer for you,” May said.

Peter’s eyes moved between them. “He did?”

Tony nodded and sat down again. Peter stood immobile for a moment—apparently Tony's presence in his home was more shocking than it had been in the school—then he dropped onto the battered armchair.

“What do you know about the September Foundation, Peter?” Tony asked.

Peter smiled eagerly. “I saw on the blogs that you’ve funded all MIT projects this year, which is, yeah, amazing. I can’t wait to see what comes out of it. I heard one group were doing a study on—” He snapped his mouth closed and blushed, then said, voice a little calmer, “I know it’s a scholarship and funding program for academics.”

“That it is,” Tony said. “And what do you know about the Stark Industries internship program?”

Peter ran a hand through his hair. “I know it’s crazy competitive, and it’s basically every STEM graduate's dream to get a place. I heard you only take the very best, and an internship basically gets you a job in any company you want after six months with you.”

“Correct again,” Tony said. “Now, here’s the question, what would you say if I offered you an internship?”

Peter blinked. “Uh… Mr. Stark, I’m fourteen.”

Tony chuckled. “I know, but I think you’ve got a lot of potential, and I’ve seen more technical capabilities in you than some of my interns.”

Peter blushed furiously and ducked his head. Tony thought he might be being a little too overzealous in his offer. Just because he knew all this to be true, the knowledge came from the experience of an additional two years knowing Peter. He had to tone it down if Peter and May weren't going to get suspicious. In fact, he was going to need to make an admission. 

“I’ll be honest, Peter, I looked into you a little more after meeting you. I uncovered your high school transcripts and saw your teachers' notes on your report cards. A mind like yours needs to be challenged and stimulated. I think I can do that for you. You interested?”

Peter’s head bobbed with an eager nod. “Yeah! Totally! I mean, yes, Mr. Stark. I am more than interested.”

Tony grinned, excitement rushing through him. "Great. I've already gone over the details with your aunt, and she's given the go-ahead for me to make this offer. I want to make you my intern, working with me personally in my lab. I want to teach you what I know and develop the potential I can see in you.”

Peter mouthed wordlessly, his hands fluttering nervously in his lap.

“I can’t pay you officially as an intern, but I can give you a scholarship through The September Foundation for college – right through to the end of whatever education you want. I mean it, kid, I'll fund you through as many Ph.D.'s as Bruce Banner has if that's what you want."

Peter gaped, and his hand came to his chest, fingers trembling. Tony stared a moment and then looked away as he realized Peter was overwhelmed and should have space to feel.

Tony had not realized, or perhaps he’d been blinded to it by love, the kind of offer he was making for Peter. His son was brilliant, and he could easily match Bruce for Ph.D.'s if he chose to. But that was unlikely to happen if he didn't have this funding. There were only so many scholarships out there.

To Peter, Tony was offering him the world.

It was a good balance, though, as having this time with Peter was going to make Tony's world, too. He missed Morgan so much, and he yearned to be able to see her, but that was always going to be there until he was back with her. In balance to that loss was this time with Peter, this do-over, and he would be able to serve both himself and Peter with it. He could give Peter the future he deserved, and he could find a place on his journey at his side if that was what Peter wanted. Even if he couldn't have all he wished for, he would have something, he knew.

“Peter?” May said tentatively.

Peter nodded jerkily, fingers clutching the front of his shirt. "That would be amazing, Mr. Stark. I’d love to be your intern. I promise to work really hard."

“I know you will,” Tony said, the fondness of remembering in his voice.

May got to her feet and moved to perch on the arm of Peter’s chair. She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.

“I’m so happy for you, honey,” she said. “You deserve this.”

Peter smiled slightly but was wordless. Tony watched him for a moment, an urge to reach for him and envelop him in his arms rushing through him, and he realized he needed to leave before he took a step too far.

“I should get going,” he said, rising to his feet.” I’ll have a car pick you up from here at nine-am Saturday, which will bring you to the Tower.”

Peter nodded and jumped to his feet to shake Tony’s hand when offered.

May patted Peter’s back and saw Tony to the door. “You probably don’t realize, but you’ve just given him the world,” she said quietly.

"He's a good kid with great potential," Tony said. "I'm not being entirely selfless with this. I want to see what he's capable of, to have a part in developing it. As for the scholarship, that's just money."

A strange smile curled May’s lips, it was almost sympathetic, and she said, “Perhaps.”

Tony thanked her once more and then headed to the stairs, hearing her clicking the door closed behind him. He went down one floor, then stopped and took a breath.

"That went well, Stark," he said aloud. "You controlled yourself."

He had, and that had been the toughest part. From here on out, he’d be building something with Peter, creating a bond. It was going to take a while, months if not years, before Peter would be his son again, but he could wait. 

For Peter, he could be patient.                 

Chapter Text

“Just there, Hap,” Tony said. “It’s the one with the white door.”

Happy pulled the car to a stop and looked sideways at him. “There you go. I’ve driven you into the middle of nowhere so you can pick up whatever’s so special. You going to answer my questions now?”

“First of all, it’s Queens, not the middle of nowhere. Second, what we’re picking up is very special. Third, nope, he’s waiting for me.”

“Who’s waiting for you?” Happy asked.

Tony waved a hand and got out of the car. He opened the door, walked past the broken elevator, and up the stairs to the Parkers’ apartment. He knocked twice, then stepped back and ran his hands through his hair, unusually nervous.

He was about to see his son again, he had a full day to spend with him in the Tower, and he could not wait.

The door opened, and May Parker appeared. It was strange still, even though he had seen her only a few days before, to see her alive. Her death had affected him—and his son deeply when he’d returned—but here she was, so full of life.

He knew Peter had offered to save her and Ben from their fated deaths, and they’d both refused. Though he’d tried to hide it, Tony knew that had been hard for Peter to accept. He went to see them often—more often than he told them, Tony thought.

“Tony,” she said, eyes bright. “Good to see you again. Come in. Peter is just getting ready.”

He walked past her into the living room and took the indicated seat as she called, “Peter, your ride is here. Hurry up.”

Peter hopped into sight, one sneaker on his foot and the other in his hand, which he was trying to put on while wobbling like a drunk flamingo. He dropped his shoe and straightened up.

“Mr. Stark!” he said, color flushing his cheeks. “I didn’t know you were coming. I thought you said you were sending a car. I’m not ready—I must have lost track of time. I’m really sorry. I’ll just be a minute.” He picked up his shoe, tried to balance on one foot, tilted to the side, then sat down on the floor and yanked it on.

“You’re not late,” Tony said. “I’m early. And I did send a car; I just happened to be in it.”

May laughed, as Peter stared in puzzlement a moment then jumped to his feet, cheeks still blazing, and said, "I'm ready?" He formed it as a question.

“I’d say you are,” Tony said, standing.

“Wait!” May said. “Where’s your bag, Peter? And you need to take your lunch.”

"It's in my room. I'll grab it." He darted away, and May picked up a paper sack from the table.

“You don’t need to send lunch,” he said. “We’ll feed him.”

“That’s very kind,” she said. “But you don’t need to do that. You’re already doing enough for him. This internship is… I can’t thank you enough. He’s so excited about it; it’s all he’s talked about since you came. Honestly, he’s been driving me a little crazy.”

Tony chuckled. If you were to ask Pepper and Rhodey, they’d say Tony had been driving them crazy talking about it, too. With the prospect of a whole day with Peter ahead of him, he couldn’t quite settle to anything. The past days had been hard to get through; only the pressing political and tactical concerns had held his attention away from what he planned to do with Peter.

Peter appeared again, rucksack slung over his shoulder and his cheeks a little less flushed now. May handed him his lunch, which he tucked away in his bag, accepted her hug and kiss, and promised to, “Be good and not get in Mr. Stark’s way.”

May patted Peter’s cheek, thanked Tony once more, and then saw them to the door.

“I’m sorry about the elevator, Mr. Stark,” Peter said as they walked down the stairs. “I thought I could fix it myself, I researched how to do it, but May won’t let me try. She said I might mess something up and send Mrs. Donahue careening to her death when she goes out to buy her scratchers and cigarettes.”

Tony snorted. “Probably better not to try then, kid.”

Though he wondered if there was something he could do, perhaps a nudge to the building's manager so May didn't have to walk up all the stairs at the end of a long shift at the hospital. She had to be tired, and if he could make things a little easier for her, he would.

They got outside, and Peter came to a dead stop, taking in the sleek black Audi which Happy was standing beside, arms crossed over his chest and incredulous eyes on Peter.

“Peter, this is Happy,” Tony introduced. “Hap, Peter Parker. He’s my new intern.”

Happy looked between them, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion, but Peter was smiling. He walked towards Happy, held out a hand, and said, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Happy.”

Happy stared at his hand, looked back at Tony, who gave him a small nod, then ignored Peter's hand and said, "Get in."

Peter nodded eagerly. “Sure, Mr. Happy.”

“You can just call him Happy, kid,” Tony said.

“No, he can’t,” Happy grumbled, opening the car door.

Peter's face fell, and he climbed into the backseat.

Tony made to follow him into the car, but Happy stepped in front of him and slammed the car door. “Boss, what’s going on?”

“I told you—he’s my new intern.”

“No, he’s a kid. How old is he, twelve?”

“Fourteen.”

Happy seemed no more appeased by that. “Fourteen then. What exactly do you want from a kid? Is this some kind of experiment? I know your usual interns, and they're not kids. You take them out of grad school—college if they're brilliant. You’ve never taken a kid out of high school.” He frowned. “Is this your way of making things work with Pepper? Because that's not fair on the kid."

Tony was torn between being offended and amused. Sure, it hurt that Happy would think he’d use a child to improve his love life, but he supposed it was a fair assumption for this point in his life. The amusement came from the fact Peter had moved Happy into protectiveness already, even though Happy had refused to show any form of friendliness to him.

He wondered if they would bond any faster this time without Happy playing sole point-man for Peter.

“I am not using the kid, Hap. He’s going to be my intern, even though he’s a little young, and you’re going to see a lot of him. Taking care of him is your responsibility as well as mine.”

Happy scowled. “My responsibility? I thought you wanted a ride today to spend some time together. I’m Head of Security now, not just your driver.”

“I did want to spend time together.” Tony placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “I’ll explain, Hap, but it’s a long story, and I can’t do it now. He’s waiting. Let’s go.”

He opened the door and climbed into the car beside Peter, who had slid to the opposite side and was twisting the hem of his hoodie in his fingers. For a moment, Tony remembered Peter's too-thin fingers stroking over the blankets Bucky placed on his lap, the sensation which became thought to him in the dark days of his catatonia.

“You okay, kid?” he asked as Happy started the engine and steered them away from the sidewalk and into the flow of traffic.

Peter nodded quickly. “Yeah, just excited.”

Tony was sure that wasn’t it; he knew Peter’s moods and expressions, and this was not excitement.

“Or you can try the truth,” he suggested.

Peter blushed and bit his lip. Tony had forgotten this facet of him. He was so used to the confident Peter he'd lived with since he went on his travels with The Stones, the Peter who rambled through his days with happiness and excitement, even when dreaming of his own death, with one notable exception—Morgan's diagnosed Peter Day.

“I… uh…” He ran a hand over his face. “I’ve got really good hearing, Mr. Stark, so I could hear what Mr. Happy was saying. I guess I had the same question. Why am I your intern? If this is something to do with Miss Potts, I’d get it. I mean, she’s amazing. She’s like a feminist icon for my friend MJ, and she’s beautiful, and you looked really happy together in all the pictures I saw in May’s magazines. If you think I can help with that, I don’t mind, really. It would make sense because I am too young to be an intern and—”

Tony placed a hand over his mouth, and Peter’s eyes bugged.

Tony lowered his hand and held up a finger as an instruction to let him speak. Peter nodded and drew in a long breath then held it.

"There's a couple reasons I want you as my intern. "One, you’re brilliant. I saw what you’re capable of when I came by your science fair, and then, yeah, I violated your privacy by looking at your school transcripts. Kid, you could have tested into college at the beginning of the year, no question.”

“May and Ben didn’t want me to skip grades. The teachers wanted me to jump from fifth grade to seventh, but they thought I should have a normal education experience.”

“Yeah, your aunt told me. They were right,” Tony said. “I went to MIT when I was about your age, and as good as it was to be challenged academically, it screwed me up in every other way—I wouldn’t have survived it without Rhodey. You deserve better than that. That's not my point, though. My point is that you’re brilliant, intelligent, and inventive, and I want to see that grow with the right opportunities and mentorship. That's something I can offer. That is my prime motivation in doing this—cherishing your gifts. The second reason is that I’m selfish, and I’m drawn to genius. I don’t find minds like yours often, and never before in someone so young. I get to help you build that, teach you, and that’s what I call a good time.”

Peter looked disbelieving, but he nodded and said, “Thank you, Mr. Stark. I’m not ungrateful, no matter why you’re doing it. Believe me, I know what you’re offering me is huge and amazing, and I’m really lucky.”

Tony leaned back in his seat and smiled. “Yeah, you are, kid.”

He wasn’t being entirely honest. He was hyperaware that he was the lucky one in this situation.

Though it was not his intention, Peter had given him an amazing chance to redo these two years with him before Thanos came, and he was going to make the most of every moment he could get with his kid.

xXx

When they got to the Tower, Tony led Peter into the private elevator and positioned him in front of the mirrored wall.

“Friday, this is Peter Parker,” he said. “I want you to get his biometrics to create security access for him. He gets a free-range pass.”

“Yes, Boss,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter Parker. Please hold your hands up in front of you and keep still.”

Peter flinched at the voice and then held up his hands and froze as a red light swept from the ceiling, over him from head to toe.

“That’s Friday,” Tony explained. “She’s the AI interface to the Tower and my suit.”

“Biometrics collected,” she announced. “And palm imprint added to security scanners for the lab and penthouse. All other access will come from my biometrics testing, though I suggest you inform Mr. Hogan that Peter will need a security pass. You know he likes people to be identifiable.” There was a pronounced smirk in her disembodied voice.

“Send Happy a message for me, Fri," he said. "Peter gets Alpha Clearance. And take us up to the lab."

“Alpha?” Peter said. “That sounds kinda… I don’t know. Are you sure that’s right?”

“I’m always sure,” Tony said. “You need this clearance. I know you’re not going to abuse it, and you probably don’t want to wander too much at first until people have gotten used to seeing you around anyway. One day I might get you exploring in R&D, though, see what you come up with for us. Don’t worry, though, I’m not getting free child labor out of you. If you invent something good, you’ll be on the patent and get the profits.”

Peter's mouth dropped open, and his eyes bugged. Enjoying his reaction, Tony grinned.

“This is too much,” Peter breathed. “Really, Mr. Stark, even if I did manage to make something, it’s with Stark Industries time and tools. It’s probably illegal for me to take credit.”

Tony squeezed his shoulder. “Kid, I know what I’m talking about. You’re not going to get in trouble for using that brain of yours here. You’re brilliant, and I am going to make the most of that.”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck and then startled as the elevator came to a stop and Friday announced, "Floor eighty-three."

"Through here," Tony said, leading Peter out and down the hall to his personal lab. Friday unlocked the door for him without waiting for his palm imprint, as usual, and he gestured Peter in.

Peter stopped just inside, and his eyes roved the room, taking it all in with a look of awe. Against one wall were the Iron Man suits, ranged by stage of invention. The bank of holograms displayed Tony’s specifications for the Mark XLVII.

Tony wanted to jump ahead to nanotech, but he’d not yet got the Wakanda connection to gather the required materials. The tables were strewn with tools and parts he’d been using. He had spent an hour preparing the space for this visit, tidying the scraps of paper, and trashing the takeout containers, spreading out the best self-invented tools, wanting Peter to get the full impact of what he could do here.

“Wow…” Peter breathed. “It’s like Willy Wonka’s Factory.”

Tony chuckled as he remembered how he’d used the same words to describe Peter’s own workshop at the Compound.

“No, it’s even better than that,” Peter went on. “So much better. It’s like… Wow.”

Tony grinned. “Yep, it’s wow, and you get to explore it all. Where do you want to start?”

Peter's smile grew, and he said, "I don't know. I can't decide. Uh… can I look at the suits?"

“You can,” Tony said. “You can take selfies with them, too, if you like. I know your friends will get a kick out of it.”

His friends, Ned and Michelle—who would one day become MJ to him. MJ would probably use the opportunity for a tirade on capitalism and conspicuous consumption, but Ned’s head would explode.

Tony had never had a chance to meet either of them last time, though he felt like he knew them from everything Peter had told him. He'd seen Ned at the science fair, of course, but he planned to spend actual time with them this time around. Not yet, it would be way too suspicious for him to invite Peter’s friends over now, but one day… Maybe Peter’s next birthday. He could throw him a party. No, that was only two months away. Maybe for his sixteenth. They could make it a real event. Peter would like that, wouldn’t he?

Peter moved over to the Mark IX War Machine armor on one of the tables, the armor that Rhodey would have worn in Berlin for the awful battle, the suit that would have been damaged, sending Rhodey spiraling to the ground. That wouldn’t happen again. They’d changed that course of events. They’d all agreed to stand against The Accords together, to change them to something workable. There would be no Berlin, no Siberia; there would be no betrayal.

Tony opened his mouth to invite Peter to see the specs of the suit's new features, but the door behind them slid open then and Pepper strode in. She had her eyes on the files in her hands and her brow furrowed. "Tony, I need you to sign…" She looked up, seeing Tony's broad smile and Peter's open-mouthed gaze on her. "Hello," she said sweetly, though her eyes were gleaming with interest.

“Pepper, this is Peter Parker, my new intern,” he said. “My personal intern. Peter, this is Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries and all-around superhero.”

Peter waved awkwardly and said, “Nice to meet you, Miss Potts.”

“You too, Peter,” she replied with a gentle smile. “Tony, can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Sure,” Tony said easily. “Kid, go nuts. I’ll be back in a minute. Friday, initiate Silent Night Protocol.”

“Done, Boss.”

Pepper jerked her head towards the door, and Tony followed her out and closed the door behind him. With the Silent Night Protocol in place, the workshop was soundproofed, so Peter wouldn’t hear anything that might be said concerning time travel.

 “How’s it going?” she asked eagerly.

“It’s going amazing,” Tony said effusively. “He’s amazing.”

She looked through the window at Peter, who was examining the left foot thruster of Rhodey's suit. "He really is cute, and he looks like he’s having fun.”

“I think he is.” Tony glanced back at Peter, smiling fondly. “I know I am.”

She narrowed her eyes, looking at Peter, who was examining the right-hand gauntlet of Rhodey’s armor.

“Is that safe?” she asked.

“It’s not hooked up to its power core. He’s perfectly safe. Really, Pep, I would never endanger him like that; he’s way too important to me. I know you can’t understand that yet, not really, but that kid in there is my son. I love him. You’ll feel the same when you have a chance to get to know him.”

He believed that. In 2023, Pepper was wholly focused on Morgan, protecting her from the pain that sometimes came with loving Peter, and she'd not been able to get to know him properly. They had time now in which Pepper had different priorities, and he was sure that, given a chance, she would love Peter, too.

Pepper smiled slightly. "Okay, sign these papers, and I'll leave you both to play."

Tony took the files, scrawled his signature at the places she’d marked with colored stickers, and handed them back.

“Thank you, Miss Potts,” he quipped.

She smiled fondly. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

She walked into the elevator, and Tony opened the door to the lab and went back inside to where Peter was bent over with his nose pressed to the elbow of Rhodey's suit.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Tony asked, then grinned. “Were you sniffing the War Machine armor?”

Peter jolted upright. “No! I, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just trying to see the connection to the joint. I wanted to see if I could tell how you maintained the integrity of strength with the freedom of movement."

“Did you work it out?” Tony asked.

“I have theories.”

Tony grinned. “Then let’s open up the schematics and see if you’re right. If you are, you get to pick where we order lunch from.”

“I’ve already got lunch, Mr. Stark,” he said. “May sent me with a sandwich.”

“She did,” Tony said. “And you can eat that if you like, but I'm getting pizza, and you’re invited to join me."

Peter smiled. “Pizza sounds awesome.”

Tony clapped him on the shoulder. “Great. Now, those schematics… Friday, pull them up…”

The hologram appeared, flooding Peter’s excited face with light, and Tony just stared at him for a moment, relishing his presence and filled with love.

He felt like he’d waited forever for this.

xXx

When Tony and Peter headed up to the penthouse for lunch, Tony was surprised to see Rhodey sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. He looked up and beamed at them when they entered, and Tony felt himself smiling in return.

He’d been looking forward to this day, being with Peter, and the last few days between seeing him at the apartment and picking him up for their first day together had been some of the longest he’d ever experienced. He expected to have the day alone with Peter, selfishly excited about it, but he didn’t feel a pang of annoyance that Rhodey was there as he wanted to share Peter with his best friend.

He knew how much Rhodey loved Peter in the future and how much Peter loved him in return. Neither of them had that connection now, and it would take time to develop, but he was pleased that he could see it start.

Peter looked startled to see Rhodey, and he stopped dead a moment then said, “Colonel Rhodes, hi!”

“Make it Rhodey, please,” he replied. “When people call me Colonel, I feel like I’ve got to throw up a salute.”

Peter chuckled. “Okay… Rhodey.”

Tony remembered the first time Peter was asked to call him Rhodey, and how quickly he’d corrected, and how he’d later said Tony had remained Mr. Stark for so long as he was scarier. Tony had hated that, even though Peter had said he wasn’t scary anymore.

He wondered if he was now. If he was, how could he fix it? He wanted Peter to be comfortable with him, but it had taken two years of knowing him—followed by five years of mourning him—for Peter to call him Tony.

“You hungry, Rhodey?” Tony asked. “Me and Pete are getting pizza.”

Rhodey nodded. “Why do you think I managed to get myself a weekend off to come into New York if not for the pizza.”

Peter laughed. “Is it really better? I’ve never had pizza from anywhere else.”

“Well, Chicago pizza is famous for a reason,” Rhodey started.

Tony cut him off with a hand raised and said, “New York pizza is the best. Chicago is a loaf of bread with tomato sauce and cheese on top.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes and walked towards them. “Ignore him, Peter. He’s a pizza snob. I’ll fly you to Chicago one day so you can try it.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“And when I say fly, I mean, I’ll fly you,” Rhodey went on. “Sure, Tony is fancy and all with his private jets, but he’s got nothing on the wings I can get you in.”

“Alright, Rhodes,” Tony said. “Quit showing off. What do you want on your pizza?”

“Usual,” Rhodey said easily.

“Friday, add Rhodey’s pepperoni to the order. I want Swiss chard, sausage, and mozzarella. Peter, what do you like?”

“I… uh… can I get bacon and pickles?”

Tony laughed. “If you’ve got no tastebuds, you absolutely can.”

He knew Peter’s love of pickles and didn’t understand it. They were slimy, tangy things that he hated. Still, if that was what Peter wanted, it’s what he’d get him.”

“I have tastebuds,” Peter said, cheeks a little flushed. “Bacon and pickles is a great topping.”

“I’m with Tone on this one,” Rhodey said. “It sounds gross. But if it’s what you like, more power to you, I guess.”

Peter smiled, the heat of embarrassment fading from his cheeks.

“Got the order down, Fri?” Tony asked.

“I have the order, Boss. Is there anything you’d like to add?”

“Yeah, a pint of cookie dough and some garlic dough balls.”

“Now you’re talking,” Rhodey said, rubbing his stomach. “You like dough balls, Peter?”

Peter grinned. “Love them. My aunt is Italian, and she’s not a great cook, but the amount of garlic she cooks with makes most things edible.”

“Sounds like Tony,” Rhodey said.

“It sounded like me,” Tony corrected. “I can cook now, Rhodey—you just haven’t had a chance to enjoy it yet.”

Rhodey’s brow pinched, and then his eyes widened, and he nodded. “Yeah, forgot about that.”

Rhodey had no idea Tony could cook as he didn't live through the years in which Tony had learned. He knew nothing about the house by the lake Tony had built for his wife and child, which was the best home he'd ever known. He knew none of that because he hadn't shared that place and those experiences, and Tony couldn't tell him in front of Peter.

And Morgan, Tony could talk to no one but Steve, Bucky, and Natasha about how much he missed her. The only thing that kept him from despairing with his longing for her was the knowledge that this was for Peter and that he would have her one day. In the meantime, he had this chance to know his son all over again.

They sat down on the couch, Peter sitting on his hands and looking anxious. Tony wished he knew the words to make him relax and feel comfortable here, but he was at a loss. This was not yet the Peter he knew well.

“What did you two spend your morning doing?” Rhodey asked.

Peter brightened, his hands coming up to gesture expansively as he spoke. “We looked at your armor. Mr. Stark showed me the schematics of how you maintain movement with power. It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it. I had my theories, but they were way off base.”

“Not way off,” Tony corrected. “You were just thinking small. That's understandable—and exciting for me as it means I have lots to teach you still."

Peter nodded, beaming. “Yeah. Totally.”

Rhodey watched Peter a moment, and Tony was sure he was trying to reconcile all he knew about what Peter would be at sixteen years old compared to what he was now at only fourteen. Tony marveled at the difference, too. It was like he was a completely different person sometimes, and then he would see a glimpse of him as he would one day be and feel a rush of happiness at what he was going to have—hopefully, soon.

Rhodey asked Peter a question about school, and Tony listened to them talk. It had been great to see his best friend bonding with his son in 2023, and he would enjoy seeing it happen all over again here in 2016.

As jealously as he guarded his time with Peter, it was easiest to share with Rhodey as he knew what they would be one day.

Chapter Text

13. Accords and Vienna

Ross was led into the conference room by Maria Hill. Swinging from his hand was his briefcase containing his copy of the Sokovia Accords. Each of The Avengers had a copy couriered to them the day before. It had been intentionally late last time, not giving them enough time to read and fully analyze them, but this time he just didn't care. They would sign or they would not; it made no difference to him. His target was not The Avengers this time—it was the Asset. He was the prize at the end of this race, and Ross was going to win.

He and Ego combined, Nemesis, were going to snatch The Infinity Stones out from under his Unworthy hands, and then they would rule. That was the only outcome Ross was willing to accept. Not only would he be more powerful than he could ever have imagined, but he would also be meting out his revenge for what the Asset had done to him.

That child had trapped him on that godforsaken planet, and Ross was going to tear everything away from him. Ego said he could kill him in the end. Once The Stones were out of his reach, there was no use for him, and he would no longer be protected. 

Ross thought perhaps he would trap him on that planet instead, at least for a while, maybe leave The Avengers with him. The idea of Tony Stark coating himself in goat dung was appealing.

Hill pushed open the door to the conference room, and Ross strode in, head held high and smile fixed in place.

The Avengers were all seated around the table. Stark was with Rogers and Romanoff. Colonel Rhodes with them. Opposite was Maximoff, the creation Vision, Wilson, and Barton. Though Barton had chosen retirement last time and had not even been at this meeting, Ross thought Stark had summoned him here to have a part of whatever he'd planned with his additional seven years' insight.  

“It’s more than him,” Ego said. “The Black Widow and Captain America are out of their time, too.”

Ross would have liked to speak to her, to find out what that meant for their plan, but he couldn't with them all watching him. Instead, he had to play his part as Secretary of State and propose The Accords.

In truth, he liked the idea of them all refusing to sign and retiring. There was no threat coming for two years that they would be needed for, and even then, their presence was incidental until the Battle of Earth. They would be there because they had been there—that was fate

“Secretary Ross.” Stark’s tone was carefully controlled, but his eyes blazed. Ross could see the hatred in them, the fury of memory.

Ross found a particular amusement both in Stark’s hatred and careful control. It must be killing him to be polite and accommodating to Ross when he knew what he had put the Asset through in the future. Stark clearly loved the child, saw himself as his father. Ross wondered what it would do to him when he saw Ross break him down and make him a travesty of the goodness and innocence, the Worthy being that had seized The Stones.

It would destroy him, wouldn’t it? Ross hoped so. He would like to see Stark defeated.

“Stark,” he said. “I am assuming you’ve primed your teammates on why I am here.”

Stark nodded. “Yes, so there’s no need for your sales pitch. We’ve all agreed on what we’re doing.”

“Perhaps you have,” Ross said. “But that isn’t going to stop me having my say. You all need to see and hear the consequences of what will happen if you refuse, as I assume you’re going to.”

He set his briefcase down on the long table, popped the locks, and took out his copy of The Accords. He dropped it down onto the table with a thud, all eyes following its landing.

Ross placed his hands on the table and leaned forwards, feeling even more pleasure in this moment than he had the last time. “For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.” He patted the thick tome of Accords. “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries. It states that The Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

He looked to Rogers, wondering if he would raise the same objections as he had last time, but he merely straightened his shoulders and stared back, his face a neutral mask. Ross wondered if he had more control over his emotions than Stark or if he did not care for the Asset. He knew what Ross had done to him, a member of his team. Perhaps Rogers saw the Asset as the menace he was, the same way Ross did.

Stark crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re not signing.”

“Do you speak for everyone, Stark?” Ross asked.

“No,” Maximoff said. “We speak for ourselves. We have all agreed not to sign until they can be altered.”

Ross smirked. So this was their game plan, to change them to their liking. That was possible, as Stark had been working with the panel to adjust them before Thanos came, and perhaps they would be able to this time.

It didn't matter to Ross. He didn't care if The Avengers were retired or imprisoned. When it mattered, they would fight. Perhaps if they retired, it would be easier to break the Asset, as they would not be able to join him against the threat Ross was preparing to unleash upon him. Perhaps they would do it anyway. If they did, Ross would leave it to the United Nations to punish them. He had greater concerns. 

He had to play his part, though, so he straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest. "The Accords are non-negotiable. You either sign or you do not. If you do not, you will retire or face prosecution.”

“Prosecution like imprisonment without trial?” Barton said. “That’s a hard no from me.” He raised his hands. “I’ve done enough for the world. If we’re being punished for that, shackled with these Accords, I’ll retire. It’s probably past time anyway.”

“We all will,” Romanoff said. “But each and every country that is pushing these Accords are going to regret it. If a threat comes, who will fight it if not us?”

Ross bit down on his tongue to keep himself from smiling. She knew as well as he did that the threat would come and that they would face it. This was merely an act.

“We will find a way,” Ross said.

Wilson shrugged. "Then you do that. Hell, I don't mind retiring. The superhero life was never for me anyway. I can go back to work with veterans; I was better at that."

“And I think I’ll build myself a farm,” Barton said. “Somewhere out of the way where I can have a family.”

Ross bit down on his tongue again. He knew Barton already had that farm—and a family, which he had managed to keep secret for too long. It had all come out after The Snap, and Ross had been annoyed that Fury had kept them from his notice for so long. Still, Barton could have his home and family for the next two years. He would lose them all soon enough, anyway.

“You are all in agreement?” Ross asked. “None of you are going to sign?”

Rhodes shifted uncomfortably but nodded and spoke his refusal with the others. Stark, Rogers, and Romanoff had managed to create a united front against the Accords. It would have annoyed him before, but now he merely found it amusing. They could refuse, make their alterations, but they were going to lose in the end.

He gave a curt nod, playing his part to perfection, and said, “Then I think I’ve said all I need to say. I will pass on your decision to the United Nations. There will be a ceremony to ratify The Accords in three days in Vienna. I advise you to refrain from your previous activities even before then, though. You wouldn’t want to invite future issues, would you?”

“Got it,” Stark said carelessly. “Retirement from here on out.”

Ross smirked. “I wonder, Stark, how long will that last for you? We all know what a volatile personality you have and how you like to show off. You do understand that you cannot use your suits from here on out, don’t you?”

Stark’s eyes narrowed. “I understand perfectly.”

Ross snapped his briefcase closed, turned and walked away from them, back through the door, then stopped and turned when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Is there something you want, Stark?” he asked, seeing who was following him.

“Yes,” Stark said. “I want to see you out of our home. You’re not welcome here anymore. This property belongs to The Avengers.”

“If you say so,” Ross said. “Though will you still call yourselves The Avengers in your retirement?”

Stark scoffed. “It’s temporary. The UN will see they need us, and the changes will be made. However, I’ll be in Vienna with you, Ross, just to show my face when you shackle us. We all will.”

Ross frowned a moment, and then he realized what Stark was saying. Of course, Stark wanted to be there. He thought Barnes was going to be framed for the bombing, and they would want to be there to stop it.

That was a wasted journey, though, as there would be no bomb. Zemo was already working for Ross. It would do no harm to have them there, though. Perhaps it would interest them to see the chain of time’s rules lock like a noose around T’Chaka’s throat. Ross didn’t know how it would happen, heart attack or stroke perhaps.; hwever it happened, T'Chaka would die in three days, and T'Challa would take his place as king—an annoyance to Ross though a necessary complication of time’s rules.

Either way, it meant nothing to Ross’ plan. It was the Asset he had fixed his targets on, and it was him that would pay.

Ross needed nothing more than the power he held as one side of Nemesis to make that happen.

xXx

Bucky was feeling a little guilty as he drove down Queens Boulevard. He'd seen the others off for their flight to Austria, and as soon as they were out of sight, he'd gone into the garage, grabbed a car, and left the compound.

He knew they’d be pissed if they knew what he was doing, but he couldn’t resist the lure Peter held for him. He just wanted to see him, check in on him.

Tony had already seen Peter three times, Steve was plotting his visit to come soon, and Nat was working on her chance, too. Even Rhodey had seen him twice, and he had no connection to Peter yet. Bucky, who loved Peter already, was at a disadvantage here, which was why he was taking matters into his own hands.

And hoping they didn’t find out what he’d done.

He reached Peter's neighborhood, stowed the car in a side street, and then set out on foot. He had dressed for the occasion again, baseball cap and gloves on, and he thought he fit into the other people milling around Queens in the late evening.

He wandered the streets, waiting for the sound of Peter’s webs, but it didn’t come. He wondered if Peter was taking a night off, maybe spending some time with his friend Ned instead. That would suck for Bucky, after driving all this way, and it wasn’t like he could knock on his door to see him. Still, he could stay out as late as he needed just in case. The others wouldn’t be home for at least a day, depending on what happened in Vienna.

When they caught Zemo, and they would, there would be legal issues for them to deal with. Bucky wondered if they'd unmask him before or after locking him up. He wasn't sure he wanted his face out there, even as he was proved innocent, because it would bring his presence to the forefront of the authorities' attention again., though it probably never fell that low down the list.

Bucky wondered how the others were going to handle being close to Ross again. He knew Tony especially was struggling to be near him, and Steve admitted seeing him again without punching him was tough. Bucky was sure it would be the same for him. He had to remind himself, just as he’d told Tony, that killing Ross wasn’t what Peter would want. Peter had made a point of leaving him alive when he punished him, dumping him on that planet. None of them had the right to interfere with that, even though they all wanted to.

It had started to drizzle, and Bucky pulled his jacket a little closer around him, flexing his fingers. Tony had taken the measurements he'd need to make him a new arm the day before, but Bucky didn't think he'd had a chance to actually start building anything yet. He knew he had to be patient, but having this hand, the one which had ended the lives of Tony's parents among dozens of others, was tough.

He heard a shout ahead of him, and after a split second's indecision, he ran towards it. He followed the sound into an alley where a woman was pinned to the wall by a man with a knife at her throat. He was grappling with something in his pocket with his free hand and saying, “Don’t fight me on this, Carol,” in a growl.

Bucky grabbed him around the back of the neck and ripped him away from the woman, who cried out in shock. The man swiped out with the knife, and Bucky kicked his hand, making him drop it. The man reached for it, but before he could touch it, a thwip sounded, and the knife was webbed to the ground.

Bucky turned quickly and saw Peter standing in the mouth of the alley. His attention was darting from the woman, who was huddled against the wall, hand over her mouth, to Bucky, standing over the downed man, to the latter, who was still rooting in his pocket.

Bucky was distracted by the sight of Peter in his homemade suit, part of his mind analyzing the amateur nature of it and how it gave him no additional protection compared to what he'd seen Tony make for him, and the rest of his mind rejoicing at the sight of Peter. He locked eyes with the black goggles of Peter's suit, and he smiled in spite of himself.

“Asshole!” the man on the ground spat.

Bucky felt something pierce his neck, and then an electric current was rocking through his body, dropping him to his knees and making his teeth grit so hard he thought they’d break. He heard Peter shouting, a thwip, and then a grunt. The current died away, and he took a shuddering breath.

“Are you okay, sir?” Peter was asking anxiously.

“I’m fine, bud,” Bucky said automatically.

“He had a taser!” Peter said. “I’ve never seen one used like that before. That was way more upsetting than it looks on TV. Man, are you sure you're okay?"

“I’m fine,” Bucky said, getting to his feet and ripping the dart out of his neck.

The man that had attacked him had been webbed to the ground, arms and legs spreadeagled, and the woman was pushing away from the wall, hand clutching the base of her throat.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” Peter asked. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head, lips trembling. “No. He wanted my keys.”

“Your keys?”

“He’s my ex-husband. We have…” She drew a shaky breath. “He wanted Suki.”

“Is that your daughter?” Peter asked sympathetically, though with a worried undertone.

“No, she’s our Samoyed." She looked at their blank faces, then went on, "She’s a dog.”

“He had a knife to your throat to get a dog?” Bucky asked incredulously.

“She’s worth about two-thousand dollars,” she said. “He’d sell her, but I love her.”

“Oh… uh, we should call the police,” Peter said. “He assaulted you both. Do you have a phone, sir?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, and I can’t stick around. There’s somewhere I’ve got to be.”

“No! Wait!” Peter said. “He tasered you. You’ve got to talk to the cops, and you should probably get checked out at the hospital.”

Bucky hated to let Peter down, but he couldn’t talk to the cops. He had to hope that the woman’s statement would be enough for the police to arrest the man.

“Sorry,” Bucky said, taking one last look at Peter in his ridiculous suit and then jogging away.

He heard Peter apologizing to the woman and comforting her, and he knew he'd left her in safe hands.

If he could have talked to the cops for Peter, he would have, he’d do anything Peter needed, but nothing good would have come of it. Two beat cops weren’t going to be able to take him in, but it would put his face back on the news if they tried, which was the last thing he needed. 

With a guilty weight in his heart, he jogged back to where he’d left the car. He still felt a little shaken from the taser, but he also felt uplifted that he’d seen Peter, spoken to him.

He wondered how long he had to wait until he would be able to see him again.

xXx

As Tony stepped off the jet in Vienna International Airport, he looked around and took a breath. He was uneasy here. Not because of the politics they were facing; they had been part of his life since Iron Man's creation, it was the fact they were here to stop a bombing, to save lives and protect Bucky from being framed that was bearing down on him. So much weighed on what they were doing, and he was feeling that pressure as a physical thing on his chest.

If they messed this up, not only would T’Chaka die, but Bucky’s face would be back in the public eye. Selfishly, Tony was worried about both T’Chaka and Bucky equally. T’Chaka was a good enough man, or so he’d heard, but Bucky’s freedom mattered to him just as much as T’Chaka’s life.

Natasha, Rhodey, and Wanda came off after him, and he headed to the car which was waiting for them. Steve, Sam, and Clint were going to remain outside during the ceremony, watching for Zemo and the bomb-laden van he would bring.

They were all without their usual weapons, no shield for Steve or wingsuit for Sam, as The Accords were already technically signed into action with the United Nations. The ceremony was just a formality. The Avengers were retired. That didn't mean they were going to stand down now and let people die, though. They were here as private citizens. It would also play a part in showing that they were on the side of good when they stopped the bomb and unmasked Zemo. That wouldn't be enough to sway The Accords in their favor, Tony was aware, but it was a start.

He climbed into the Mercedes, Natasha, Rhodey, and Wanda with him, and the others got into the other car. Sitting back against the leather upholstery, Tony tried to concentrate on their situation, but instead, his mind dwelled on Peter's first day in the lab.

He'd been impressed by the kid, but he had a feeling Peter was holding back. He was still nervous around Tony, awed by the situation. With what Tony had seen of Peter's creation at the science fair, he thought there was a lot more he was capable of that he'd not seen yet. He'd not seen it before, either.

He'd always been impressed by Peter's technical know-how, and he'd made improvements on his own suit that Tony hadn't thought of, but it had always been about the suits—Tony's and Peter's. Tony had not given Peter a chance to branch out and show what else he was capable of. 

Tony knew from experience how hard it was to create a powered exoskeleton, and he’d had the best tools and supplies at his fingertips. Peter had done it in a school workshop. The kid was brilliant.

“You thinking about Peter?” Rhodey asked. 

Tony startled, realizing the car was in motion now. “Huh?”

Rhodey grinned. "You looked lost in thought but happier than you should look, considering where this is heading. You were thinking about Peter, right?"

Tony smiled, amused by how obvious he was when it came to his son. “I was. The kid is brilliant. I thought I knew what he was capable of, I had all that time with him, but I didn’t see it clearly. We kept it to the suits, mine and his, and he was a genius with them, but seeing what he did at the science fair, I realized I was missing so much.”

"Not this time," Rhodey said. "This time, you can really stretch his mind."

"I plan to." Tony looked out of the window at the city rolling past. “I definitely plan to.”

Natasha laughed softly, and Tony’s eyes moved to her. “What?” he asked.

“You’re such a proud dad,” she said. “I thought I saw it in the future, and I guess I did, but it’s so much more now. I wonder if…”

Tony worried she was about to mention Morgan, so he cut her off quickly with a curt, “So, I’m giving the pre-arranged speech, but does anyone else want to talk?”

“Not me,” Natasha said. “I’m no good at speeches.

“Nor me,” Wanda said stiffly.

“Rhodey?” Tony asked.

Rhodey shook his head. “You’re the one in the know here, so I think you should be the one to speak. We’ll follow your lead.”

“Okay, no problem,” Tony said, though he wished things were different.

He was fine at giving speeches, though he didn’t like doing it, but he felt a lot of pressure this time. It would have been a little easier if others were stepping up, too.

They eventually cruised to a stop outside the Vienna International Center building, and Tony cleared his throat and focused his mind on the task at hand. “Let’s do this.”

He climbed out first and made his way along the path to the building, which was lined with members of the press, their cameras flashing. Questions were shouted at him, but with long-practiced ease, he walked right past like he couldn’t hear them.

He strode through the front doors, Natasha, Rhodey, and Wanda behind him, and they were met by a man in a tweed suit who looked them up and down then said, “Follow me, please,” in a stiff tone which made Tony think he was one of those opposed to The Avengers.

The vast auditorium they were led to was already crowded, many seated people with their representing countries on cards in front of them. Conversations cut off at the sight of them, and Wanda shifted uneasily.

Natasha placed a hand on her arm. “We’ve got this.”

“We have,” Wanda agreed, though she didn’t sound confident.

They were led to seats at the front of the room, and a man leading them said, “Mr. Stark, you will be speaking first.”

Tony nodded. “Thank you.”

The man's lip curled, and he strode away, clearly uncomfortable dealing with them. This was an uncomfortable experience for them all, and Tony was eager to get it done. If not for Zemo's planned attack, they wouldn't be there at all.

Tony's eyes moved right as Ross entered the room. He shot them an appraising glance and then took his seat on the other side of the aisle.

A black-suited man stepped up to the lectern at the front of the room, a representative of the United Nations panel created to control them, and he tapped the microphone and said, "Before we start with our approved speakers, we have been asked if Mr. Tony Stark can give an address. Are there any objections?"

There were murmurs but no outward dissent, so Tony was called up, and Rhodey shot him a quick smile and nod.

Tony walked to the lectern and adjusted his tie, then said, "Representatives of the United Nations, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for allowing me a chance to talk to you. I speak as a representative of The Avengers, and I think you need to hear our message."

He planted his hands on the lectern and went on.

“We are not unwilling to be overseen, none of us. In fact, we agree it’s necessary.” That wasn’t strictly true, Steve was especially against being under a UN panel’s control, but he accepted it was what had to happen to serve the rest of their plan. “What we do not want to do is give up our basic human rights.”

There were more murmurs, and Tony saw Ross smirk down at his lap.

"We will sign The Accords if changes can be made to protect our rights. As they are written now, we face life imprisonment without trial. That is not acceptable to us, and we don't think it would be to any of you if you were in our position. We are here as a gesture of goodwill. We will make ourselves available for discussion to alter The Accords, and we will all stand down in temporary retirement until this can be arranged."

Tony felt an intense gaze on him, and he saw T'Chaka in the second row, appraising him. At his side, T'Challa was nodding slowly, as if in agreement. He had as much at stake in this as The Avengers; though he was unknown to the rest of the world, The Black Panther would be subject to the Sokovia Accords, too. If things had progressed the same way as before, he would have been arrested with Steve.

Tony cleared his throat. “I think I’ve said all that needs to be said.”

He stepped down and went back to his seat, not opening himself to questions. With representatives of 117 countries here, it would have taken a while to get through them, and it would perhaps side even more people against them if he couldn’t give the answers they wanted. 

T’Chaka was introduced next, and Tony, Natasha, Rhodey, and Wanda stiffened. This was when the bomb was due. It wouldn’t happen this time, not with Steve and the others out there to stop it, but they were all still tense.

T’Chaka took up his place behind the lectern and looked around, taking in the room before speaking.

"When stolen Wakandan vibranium was used to make a terrible weapon, we in Wakanda were forced to question our legacy. Those men and women killed in Nigeria were part of a goodwill mission from a country too long in the shadows. We will not, however, let misfortune drive us back. We will fight to improve the world we wish to join." He stopped and looked at Tony for a moment, then went on. "I wish The Avengers would sign now, but Wakanda is willing to make amendments for the fairness of all interested parties. I call upon our fellow countries to do the same.”

Throughout his speech, Tony and Natasha fixed their eyes on the window. Tony was wondering what was happening out there if they had caught Zemo yet.

As T’Chaka’s speech came to a close, Natasha leaned over and whispered, “It’s not happening. They stopped him. The bomb went off before now last time. We should get out there, help them lock him down.

Tony let out a breath of relief and whispered, “They’ve got it. We’ve got to show the right—” then cut off and froze as a voice cried out from the back of the room where selected members of the public were seated.

“Umbulali! Murderer!”

There was the crack of a gun, and Tony leaped to his feet. He was not the only one— everyone was shouting and standing. Tony's eyes soon landed on T'Chaka, who was wide-eyed with shock, then to Wanda, who was holding out her hands, eyes focused on a red glow that was fixed in front of T'Chaka’s chest. Tony squinted and saw the small fleck of a bullet—the bullet which would have pierced T'Chaka’s heart without Wanda's intervention—surrounded by the glow of her power.

"Keep it up, Wanda," he urged.

T'Challa ran forward, and from his pocket came a small handheld device that he tapped, and a shield-shaped glow of blue light spread from it. He placed it in front of his father and said, "You can release it now, Miss Maximoff."

Wanda, who was breathing hard, lowered her hands. The red light disappeared, and there was a strange pinging sound as the bullet hit the shield T'Challa was holding. It dropped down on the floor, its forward propulsion extinguished completely instead of repelled. 

T'Challa lowered the shield and placed his hand on his father's shoulder. "Father, are you okay?"

T'Chaka nodded mutely, eyes wide and wondering. Tony looked back to Wanda and saw she was standing blank-faced, staring at her hands as if unsure what they had just done. He knew what she’d done—she'd just saved T'Chaka’s life.

He looked around and saw Natasha and Rhodey with a man gripped between them, dragging him to the front of the room. He was writhing and spitting curses, his face twisted with fury.

“This is the shooter,” Natasha said.

T’Challa walked towards him, his eyes narrowed, and said, “Why did you try to shoot my father?”

"I didn't want to just shoot him," he said. "I wanted to kill him." He spat at T'Challa's feet. "He's a murderer!"

T’Chaka moved towards him, his eyes wide and disbelieving. “N'Jobu,” he breathed. “No!”

“I am N'Jadaka," the man said scathingly.

T'Chaka's eyes grew even wider, and his hand pressed hard into his chest.

“Who is this, Father?” T’Challa asked.

T'Chaka shook his head, and then his eyes squeezed shut, and his hand moved to grip his left arm.

Horrified by what he was seeing, Tony rushed forward and helped T'Challa ease him to the floor, then shouted for a medic.

T’Challa was kneeling at T’Chaka’s head, talking to him in a language Tony did not understand, words which sounded both urgent and reassuring. People in red uniforms with white crosses on the back rushed forward, and Tony moved away to give them room to work.

Natasha and Rhodey were still holding the shooter. More people in black uniforms flocked forward and announced they were the police. Natasha and Rhodey handed over the man then watched as the medics fought to revive T’Chaka.

Tony stared in horror, not understanding how this could happen when they'd saved him from the bomb, not knowing who the shooter was or how he was here.

He felt eyes on them, and he looked across to where Ross was standing. His arms were crossed over his chest, and there was inexplicable smugness in his face, though Tony could see he was trying to hide it. Why he would be pleased about what was happening, Tony had no idea, but when the medics announced the time of death, Ross nodded once and walked away, T'Challa's desperate cries echoing after him.

Tony felt someone approach behind him, and he turned and saw Steve, Sam, and Clint. They looked shell-shocked as they took in the scene in front of them.

“What are you doing in here?” Tony asked. “What about Zemo?”

"He didn't come," Steve said in a low voice. "There was no sign of an attack at all."

Tony’s mouth dropped open. “That’s impossible! Zemo was supposed to be here!”

“That’s the problem,” Steve said. “He wasn’t, which means time was changed. Since we’re the only ones that are supposed to be able to do that, with the connection to the Time Stone, it means…”

Tony’s heart sank as he understood what Steve was saying. “We’re not the only ones here, are we?”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t think so. Someone intercepted Zemo’s path, and it wasn’t us. Someone else is changing things.”

Tony massaged his forehead as pain built in his temples. This was a nightmare. If they weren’t the only ones sent back, it meant there was another player on the board that they couldn’t control, someone that could, and probably was already, working against them.

“What’s going on?” Natasha asked behind him.

“Zemo didn't show,” Steve said. “His path was changed by someone else. It wasn’t one of us, and we’re supposed to be the only ones that can change things without just creating a new timeline. So, there’s someone else here with that power.”

Natasha spoke a word in Russian, which was inflected as a curse. "You know what this means?" she asked, the words bitten off.

Tony drew a shaky breath. “Yeah. It means Ego has got to be here, too—or Nemesis if she’s got another host.”

Steve nodded. "That's what I figure, which means we've got a way bigger problem than just keeping Bucky free. If they’re here, it means they’re working their own plan."

“And we have no idea what that is,” Tony said, his voice cracked with tension. “Or who they are.”

“Exactly,” Steve said.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, the sounds of the room roaring around him, and he willed himself to be calm.

This whole situation just got a thousand times more dangerous. 

Chapter Text

Bucky heard the Quinjet land, but he didn’t go out to meet it, even though he wanted to, because there were Stark Industries staff around the compound who couldn’t be allowed to see him. He had to stay in the common room and wait for the others to come to him.

Steve had called from Vienna, told him that Zemo hadn't shown, but T'Chaka had died. He’d said nothing else, just that they needed to be together to discuss the rest of what happened.

Bucky was concerned and confused. He didn't know T'Chaka, but he knew and cared about T'Challa and Shuri, and he'd been hoping they would be spared the loss of their father this time around. He knew how hard it had been for T’Challa to take up his place, and he knew what had followed with Killmonger. He had hoped they could do something about it, warn T'Challa what was coming in just a couple of months.

That hope had been complicated by the fact that Wakanda was so against The Avengers now, so much so that even Tony would have been unlikely to get an audience with T'Chaka before. Bucky didn't think that it would be any easier to get with T'Challa now his father was dead. Also, Bucky owed T'Challa and Shuri, and he wanted to see them saved from that pain.

The door opened behind him, and he got to his feet to see Tony coming in. Steve was following, and the others brought up the rear with Vision, who had evidently gone out to meet them. They all bore the same world-weary expressions and some strain that he thought was more than just what had happened in Vienna. In fact, Steve and Tony looked almost afraid.

“Okay,” he said warily, “what did I miss?”

Tony gave him a bleak look, said, "You don't want to know," then strode across the room and dropped onto a couch.

“Steve?” Bucky prompted.

“We think—” Steve started.

“We’re pretty damn sure,” Tony interjected.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, nodded, and said, “We’re pretty sure Ego is here, too.”

Bucky felt like he'd been sucker-punched in the gut, and he dropped back onto his seat with a rough exhale.

They all took their seats, the ones in the know, Steve, Tony, and Natasha, looking much darker than the ones that hadn’t done the time jump with them.

“I’m still not clear on who Ego is,” Wanda said.

“She’s the being that almost killed Peter,” Tony said. “He would have been killed if not for The Stones. She crushed him.”

“She’s the origin of The Infinity Stones,” Steve explained. “The seventh Stone, Ego, can combine with a person—human or alien, according to Peter—and they become Nemesis, who are the greater threat.”

“How do you know she’s back?” Bucky asked.

“Because time was changed,” Tony said, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “Zemo didn’t show, and that had nothing to do with us, so someone else interfered with his path. We can do that because we’ve got the Time Stone connection, but we’re the only ones apart from her.”

“Unless the kid sent someone else back,” Sam said.

Tony’s eyes opened and narrowed into a glare. “You think Peter sent someone else that would screw with our plan?”

Sam shrugged. "I'm just saying it might not be the worst-case scenario."

“No,” Bucky said sharply. “Peter wouldn’t have done that. Why would he? He sent us back here to change things. He wouldn’t throw a spanner in the works.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “No way.”

“But we’re not doing what he wanted,” Sam said. “When Vision was talking—”

“Mind,” Tony corrected.

“Okay, when Mind was talking, he said you were doing it wrong. It’s not about Thanos or The Accords. Maybe whoever he sent knows more than us.”

Tony seemed to consider what he was saying, while Bucky watched him incredulously, angry that he was doubting Peter.

“No,” Tony said eventually, lessening the heat in Bucky’s chest somewhat. “Peter wouldn’t do that.”

“But would he send you here to face Nemesis if they’re that much of a threat?” Wanda asked.

“No,” Tony said. “Not unless he knew we were safe. He’d never risk our lives like that. In the future, he put us under his protection.” His lips quirked with a smile. “He called it the Baby Monitor Protocol to get back at me for what I did to his suit. But it protects us. You, Rhodey, were holding a bomb when it blew, and you didn’t get a scratch. He put us all under it after he was attacked, but I doubt that covers us here.”

"Let's find out," Natasha said, pulling a knife from her boot and tossing it from hand to hand. "None of you guys have even had as much as a shaving nick, right?"

“Yeah, but I don’t think you should be— Okay…” Steve sighed as Natasha tugged up her sleeve and made a shallow cut across her arm, making blood well and drip.

“I’m not protected,” she said with finality, lowering her sleeve.

“Then there’s something else,” Bucky said. “Peter would not have sent us here against Nemesis if we’re vulnerable.” He rubbed his temples. “Maybe they sent someone else. Ego don’t have to be here themselves; Peter sent us, and Ego is apparently free of the same constraints as we are with Time, so they could have sent someone. Maybe they know what we're doing and want to stop it."

“You think Nemesis want Thanos to attack?” Steve asked.

“No. They wouldn’t want him—he was the one with the power, and they’d want it to be them.” Tony cursed. “We need to talk to Peter. Vis, I don’t suppose Mind’s popped in again, has he?”

Vision shook his head. “No. I have felt nothing like that. I have been attempting to connect with him, though, with Peter, to talk. I had misgivings about what you were planning, as it seemed to be against his wishes in sending you here, but there’s nothing.” He touched the Stone on his brow. “I feel very alone within my mind.”

Tony groaned. “Okay, here’s what we do know: Peter wouldn’t have sent us here if there was a risk to our lives. He would have kept us there with him where he could protect us.”

“You have a lot of faith in him,” Wanda said.

Tony glowered. “I do because I know him.”

“We’ve got good reason to have faith, Wanda,” Steve said. “Peter was targeted by Thaddeus Ross, who was president in 2023. He lured Peter out of the safe house we were staying in by threatening… someone.”

Bucky saw Tony’s relief that Steve had not referenced Morgan. He’d made it clear that his daughter was a secret to be kept only between those that knew about her in the future. He wanted Pepper to have an organic experience of motherhood, not to be waiting for it to happen.

“The person he targeted had a gun held on them from a distance for three weeks,” Steve went on. “And we didn’t know. Peter had just been dumped with some big news, so we thought he’d taken off on his own. For three weeks, Peter was on The Raft, being tortured and brainwashed, and he didn’t fight back for a second as someone he loved was at risk.”

“He was being programmed like I was,” Bucky added, needing them to understand, wanting no shadow of a doubt about Peter’s motivations and goodness. “He had The Stones, he could have gotten free in a second, but he didn’t because it put the person he loved at risk. You can’t imagine what that did to him, he was in hell, but he suffered it rather than someone else getting hurt. There’s no way he would send us here against them.”

“Then what’s happening?” Rhodey asked. “Say this Nemesis also sent someone back to change things, what’s their game plan, and how does Zemo play into it? He didn't show up to frame Bucky, so what's he doing instead?"

"I don't think I'm the target this time," Bucky said. "I don't—" He sat up straight, and his hands fisted as horror rushed through him.

“What, Buck?” Steve asked.

"They don't need me!" Bucky said, eyes wide and mind reeling. "If they're from the future, they already know about the other Winter Soldiers—they don’t need me to find out where they are or to tear you apart. That could be the endgame for them. If they set them free, there will be carnage. Zemo killed them before, but do you think it'd be hard to sway him from that goal? And that's if it even is Zemo back. Anyone could have found out about Siberia. We made big waves with what happened there."

“Zemo wanted to destroy us,” Steve said thoughtfully. “That was his whole mission—to get revenge for Sokovia. He knew what you did to Howard, Bucky, and he knew how Tony would react.”

Rhodey narrowed his eyes. “What did you do to Howard?”

"It doesn't matter," Tony said, eyes distant. "If it is Zemo, his goal is bound to fail; we're all united this time around. Besides, if Nemesis wanted us to destroy the team, they’d have just let things go on as before. Peter said it wasn't about The Accords, so that's not why he sent us. This is bigger than that."

“I think we need to know,” Steve said. “We have to find out if The Winter Soldiers are in the cryo-chambers still. If they are, we’ve got to kill them. If not, we’ll know they’re part of the plan.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll go there and find out.”

“I’ll come with you,” Bucky said, rising to his feet. “If they’re not in the ice, they might still be hanging around the base. You’ll need me.”

Steve thought a moment, then nodded. "Let’s go.”

“Do you want me to come?” Tony asked.

“No, we’ve got it,” Steve said. “Stay close to Vision in case Mind comes back. If he does, find out what’s going on, what Peter needs from us.”

"I'll do my best," Tony said heavily. "But that’s only going to happen if Pete's got enough energy to connect again."

The way he said it made it clear he doubted it, and that made a chill ripple down Bucky's spine. He wanted to know what was happening to Peter in 2023. He also wanted to know what was happening to the others if time was passing. If it was, what were the people they left behind going through? How were they suffering without them?

What was Peter going through?

xXx

Steve and Bucky trudged toward the bunker, their feet crunching in the snow and their breath misting.

“I hate that we’re back here,” Bucky said.

Steve touched his arm. “You don’t have to come in. I can take care of it.”

Bucky shook his head, hair whipping around his face in the wind. “No. If they’re free in there, you need me.”

“Yeah, but I get why it’d be hard for you to come back. You were tortured here.”

Bucky smiled grimly. “It’s not about that, though I guess it should be part of it. It’s what happened here with Tony. It didn’t matter before; he was nothing to me when we were fighting. Hell, he was trying to kill me and that made him the enemy. But he’s my friend now, my family. I hate what we did to him.”

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat. He hated what had happened here, too. He’d been blinded by concern for Bucky, by love, and it had made him attack and seriously injure one of his closest friends. He’d abandoned Tony here, hurt and weak, and not looked back. Even though Peter had reprieved that memory with a new one, Tony still remembered dragging himself out of this place in the below-freezing temperatures and staggering three miles to town for help.

Steve had a lot of regrets in his life, but that was one of the greatest.

Unable to acknowledge that to Bucky, he redirected. “He wasn’t actually trying to kill you, Buck.”

Bucky stopped dead and gaped at him incredulously. “What?”

Steve laughed in spite of himself. “If Tony had wanted us dead, we’d have been dead in seconds. That suit of his is beyond anything either of us can do. I've seen him take out a three-million-tonne leviathan in it, and that was one of the early models. He could have taken us down without breaking a sweat. He wasn't fighting to kill."

Bucky gaped at him. “But… I… He… Seriously?”

“He was angry, yeah, and he wanted to hurt us both, but he wasn’t aiming to kill. Maybe he wasn’t aware of it himself , but he was holding back when we were fighting.”

Bucky whistled and shook his head. “Damn. I had no idea. I thought for sure he was going for the kill.”

"Nope." Steve ran a hand over his face. "I didn't realize it at the time either; I was just worried about protecting you, which is why I went so hard. But now, looking back, I see now he had every right to do what he did.”

Bucky nodded stiffly. “Yeah, I killed his parents.”

"And I hid it from him. I didn't know it was you, but I knew they'd been murdered by Hydra. If I'd told him when I found out, given him a chance to come to terms with it, it probably would have gone differently. I think a big part of it was that he'd blamed Howard all that time for killing his mother: he thought he'd been drunk when he drove with her in the car. He was hit with the fact he'd hated his father for those years for what he'd done, with my betrayal, and you, right there, when he’d just seen that video.” He sighed. “I think I’d have aimed to kill if it had been my Ma.”

“Me too,” Bucky said heavily. “Damn. I hate that I did that to him, even though I know now it wasn’t my fault. Of all the crimes as The Winter Soldier, that’s the one that haunts me the most.”

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, though. You were under Hydra’s control.” His eyes drifted to the bunker in the distance. “Just like the others were.”

“They won’t be now, though,” Bucky said. “Not unless Zemo used the words on them. I’ve seen them in action, Steve, and they’re lethal. We’ve got to hope they’re on ice or dead.”

“Then let’s find out.”

They carried on through the snow, coming to the heavy door. It was locked last time, but Steve had been able to rip it from the hinges without too much difficulty. This time it wasn’t closed properly, and Steve drew a deep breath.

“We’re not the first people to come here.”

Bucky nodded his agreement. "Then let's hope it was Zemo coming in to kill them.”

Steve took the lead inside, wishing he had his shield. That was one of the rules they had to obey, though, because of The Accords—they could use none of their usual weapons: no Widow Bites for Natasha, no Exo-7 suit for Sam, no bow for Clint, no armor for Tony, and no shield for Steve. They both had guns, though, and they had to hope they would be enough.

There were no sounds but their footsteps on the metal stairs, and Steve let that give him a little hope. Both he had Bucky had keen hearing, and they would have heard voices by now if they were there. However, he knew The Winter Soldiers might not be talking—they might be lying in wait.

They crept down the stairs and then took a right to where Steve remembered the cryo-chambers being. He passed the spot where he’d left Tony lying in his trashed suit and felt another wave of regret for what had happened. 

“This way,” Bucky said.

They walked through the hall, the cryo-chambers coming into view, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief at what he saw:  bullet holes in the glass.

“He killed them,” he said. “Or someone did. Maybe Nemesis. You think Ego’s using Zemo the way Peter said she was using Kaecilius?” 

"Not all of them are dead," Bucky growled, coming to a halt in front of one chamber, which Steve saw now was empty.

“Do you know who it was?” he asked.

“Yes,” Bucky said heavily. “Josef. He’s the worst of them all, the most twisted and evil. Steve, he’s a more lethal fighter  than me.”

Steve closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. This was a nightmare. Zemo, Nemesis, whoever it was, now had a soldier that could take them out. If he could beat Bucky, who was a better fighter than any Steve had seen, it would take Tony in his suit to take him out, perhaps.

“We’ve got to scour the place,” Bucky said. “If you see movement, don’t hesitate before shooting. He might be able to take us both out, I don't know. Damn, this is so bad."

Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “We can handle this.” Though he wasn’t confident himself, he knew he had to pretend for Bucky’s sake. “Let’s go.”

Bucky raised his gun, and his eyes darted around as they moved deeper into the bunker.

Steve didn’t know what they’d do if they couldn’t find and kill Josef, what he would be set free to do, but the fact Bucky was obviously scared of what he could do scared him in return.

If Bucky was scared, what was this man capable of.

Chapter Text

When Steve and Bucky arrived back at the Compound the next day, the team gathered to hear their story, and it turned out to be just one more problem to land on their laps.

Tony was starting to believe there was no way they were all coming out of this intact, and he still didn’t know what Peter really wanted from them. All he knew was what he wanted to do with this gifted time, though he didn’t know if he would be able to anymore.

“So, this Josef is out there somewhere,” Tony said heavily. “And he’s more dangerous than anyone you’ve seen, Bucky?”

Bucky nodded. “Since I was the most dangerous person I knew before him, yeah. At least he’s the most dangerous human. We’ve seen worse in aliens, not that that’s all that comforting.”

“And we have no idea what he’s doing?” Rhodey asked. “You’ve got no 2023 insight?”

Tony shook his head. "None. This isn't what happened before. The bomb killed T'Chaka before; this time, he was shot at then had a heart attack. Last time, some of us signed The Accords; this time, none of us did. Before, Zemo got the words to control Bucky; this time, the words aren't functional since the programming was broken in Wakanda."

“Maybe Zemo knew that,” Steve said. “Or Ego. She probably knows we’re back. There’s got to be some kind of omniscience with that level of power. Maybe she knows we’re changing things this time around, so she’s switching things up with this Josef.”

“Or they just didn’t need me,” Bucky said.

“It doesn’t explain the shooting in Vienna,” Wanda said. “You said that didn’t happen before.”

“Maybe because the bomb came first,” Tony said. “The shooter could have been there waiting.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face. “Who was the shooter, do you know?”

“He called himself N'Jadaka,” Steve said.

Bucky frowned and muttered, “N'Jadaka… Why do I know that name?”

“It sounds like a Wakandan name,” Tony said.

Bucky nodded, eyes distant, then gasped. “No! It’s Killmonger! That’s what they called him anyway.” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “He’s the one that overthrew T’Challa. He nearly killed T'Challa and took over the throne. He planned to use Wakandan weapons to wage war to promote black people's rights around the world. He was T’Challa’s cousin, and T'Chaka killed his father. He hated him for what he did.”

“So, he could have been there to shoot T’Chaka last time around, but the bomb killed him before he could take the shot. With T’Chaka dead, he turned his attention to T’Challa instead.”

“But if he’s in jail, he can’t unleash any of that again.” Bucky smiled slightly. “Even though T’Chaka died, Wakanda has been saved a lot of grief without Killmonger free.”

“That’s great and all,” Tony said, dread heavy in his stomach. “But it doesn’t help us with Josef. We have no idea what he’s planning or what Ego wants from him.”

“It’s strange, though,” Rhodey said. “When you told me about Ego, I figured we were facing something huge, something like that Thanos you told us about. Josef, as dangerous as he is, is basically small fry next to that. What does Ego want if not some kind of worldwide event? Why would she want him?”

Tony rubbed a hand over his face and looked at the other blank faces in the room. He couldn’t imagine what Ego might want. He could only hope Peter would be the one to tell them soon. Since he’d arrived back in 2016 and Steve shared his thoughts, Tony thought they had to stop Thanos. That would have been a big ask, but not insurmountable. But Ego, whatever she was planning, was not going to be something that could stop without Peter.

And Tony knew, better than he knew anything in his life, that Peter would not have sent them here to die. He would have put himself here, too. He would have protected them. Did that mean Ego was not the threat they had to face? But if that was the case, and they weren’t here for The Accords or Thanos, what did Peter want from them?

Tony would have given almost anything to talk to his son, even for only a minute. He wanted to know what he was doing and what he wanted from them. If they knew that, they could act.

“We can’t talk to Peter,” he said, then looked to Vision. “Can we?”

Vision shook his head. “Not that I can tell. I’ve been trying, but I think it was a connection Peter created, not one that I can return.”

“So, we’ve got to handle this on our own,” Tony said. “We need someone that knows more than us.”

“The Ancient One?” Steve suggested. “She must know more than us. Even though we’re connected to the Time Stone, none of us can use it to look ahead, but she can.”

Tony nodded his agreement,

“How do we reach her?” Rhodey asked. “Do you have a number for her?”

“No,” Tony said. “Not direct, but I know there’s one of their places in The Village. That’s where Strange was based. Last time she said she was heading back to Kamar-Taj, but maybe we can get a message to her.” He took out his phone and said, “Friday, find me the number for the New York Sanctum of the Masters of the Mystic Arts.”

“You think they’ll be in yellow pages?” Sam asked, a touch of scorn in his voice.

“No, but Friday will find them. Won’t you, Fri?”

"I already have," she said. "The number is now on your cell phone."

“Thanks.” Tony took his cell from his pocket, pulled up the number, and dialed.

It rang six times before a voice answered with a stiff, “Hello?”

"Hello," Tony said, keeping his voice the media-friendly, ingratiating one that he used when he wanted something. “It’s Tony Stark. You may know me—”

“I know who you are, Mr. Stark. What do you want from us?”

“I need to speak to the Ancient One. It’s an emergency.”

There was a brief pause, and then the voice said, "She is not in the country at the moment."

“No, but since she can swirl her way anywhere she wants, I think you can get her here. If you can pass on a message that The Avengers need to speak to her urgently at our Compound, I think she’ll come.”

“I’ll pass on the message,” the voice replied, then the call cut off.

Tony set his phone down on the table and said, “I think she’ll get the message.”

“If she comes is another thing,” Rhodey said. “She didn’t exactly seem like the caring sharing type when she was here before.”

“I think she’ll come,” Steve said, rubbing his chin. “She’s invested in this. I know she died, or will die, and Strange took over, but Bruce said she was invested in the world even after she’d leave it. She trained Strange to take her place, after all, and he’s good.”

“He is,” Tony agreed. “As annoying as he is, I’d kill to have him here with us right now. He doesn’t show up until next year, though, not as he should be anyway.”

“Still, we’ll work it out with—”

Rhodey cut off as the circle of light swirled by the window, and then the Ancient One appeared. She looked a little strained, and Tony wondered if she was following what had been happening as closely as they had and what she was making of it.

She looked from face to face, settling on Tony, and said, “Things have changed, and it was not you.”

Tony shook his head. “It wasn’t. How much do you know?”

“I know that King T’Chaka’s foreseen death by the bomb in Vienna did not occur. What do you know?”

"We know one of the other Winter Soldiers has been freed from the ice in Siberia, but we don't know where he's gone," Bucky said.

“And we think it’s Ego behind it,” Tony said. “We think she’s here with us.”

The only reaction from The Ancient One was that she blinked and murmured, “I see.”

“You see?” Tony echoed. “Ego, the being that managed to trash Peter, even with The Infinity Stones, is here, and you’ve got nothing else to say?”

A frown pinched her brow. “What would you like me to say? I don’t know anything about Ego. I did not know she was free until you told me. I can only see as far as the day of my own death. I only know a little more as Doctor Strange helped me to look ahead when I was with him after Peter returned the Time Stone.”

“And what did he show you?” Tony asked. “There’s more than you’ve told us, more than Strange told us, I can tell. He was hiding something from us before, I know it. What was it?”

For a moment, he thought she was going to tell them, and he needed to know, but she merely gave her head a small shake and said, "I think you could all benefit from a lesson in time travel." She folded her hands under her chin and said, "Some things are in flux, and others are set in stone. King T'Chaka's death was one of the latter. As the bomb did not work, he died of…"

“Heart attack after being shot at,” Tony supplied.

She nodded. “A heart attack. That death was fixed because he played a pivotal role in the future, at least his legacy did. His son, T’Challa’s, place on the path was vital. T’Chaka died because he had to.”

“Who decides?” Bucky asked. “Is this something Time gets to decide?”

She shook her head, and her hand settled over the pendant on her chest. “Not Time, no, but Time sees when directed.”

"But Time can be wrong," Tony said. "Strange saw over fourteen million outcomes to Thanos and only one win, which was me snapping and dying. Peter created a future Time didn’t see coming."

For a moment, she looked surprised, either the information was new to her, or she had not considered it, and then her features became a mask again. "I do not know how that happened. I can only imagine that Peter Parker was something The Stones had not seen coming."

“They’re not the only ones,” Bucky said with a small smile. “Kid took us all off guard.”

Tony nodded, smiling a moment, and then he became solemn again. “Okay, maybe you can answer me this. If Ego is here with us, and she’s working her own plan, what do we do?”

She frowned. “You live.”

“Do we, though?” Sam asked. “This Ego thing sounds pretty lethal. Perhaps we’re all lining up to die right now.”

“You are not,” she said. “I know you will all be in a battle to end all battles in seven years. Well, almost all of you?”

“Who’s missing?” Tony asked warily.

The Ancient One's eyes darted to Natasha and then looked away.

“Me,” Natasha stated. “So, I’m going to die.”

“No!” Clint snapped. “You’re not.”

Natasha held up a hand. "Does this mean we fail to stop Thanos, that I die to get the Soul Stone again, or is it something else?"

“You’re not dying!” Clint growled.

“Well?” Natasha prompted, ignoring Clint.

"I do not know for sure," she said. "We do not see all paths, just outcomes. The path you are on now leads to a huge battle. You are not there, Ms. Romanoff, nor is the creation Vision, but I do not know precisely where that battle is placed in time or what form it will take. It could be the battle between yourselves and Thanos, which has already passed for some of you, or it could be something new that is coming. I don't know."

“Look,” Tony ordered. “Look deeper, now, and tell us what happens.”

“I cannot,” she said. “What I see ends January 19th next year—the day of my death. I was able to see flashes of more through Doctor Strange’s connection to the Time Stone, but I cannot tell you what is coming past that point.”

“This is bullshit,” Clint spat. “No one is dying.” He pointed at Natasha. “You’re not dying!”

Natasha shook her head, a small smile playing around her lips. “I know what will happen to me if and when I die, and I am not afraid of it. I can die and be perfectly at peace with that fate.” Her eyes narrowed. “So quit being a baby about it, Barton.”

Clint’s mouth dropped open, and Tony saw the small flash of sadness on Natasha’s face before she schooled it into a mask. Tony didn’t know where she had been on the Soul Plane; she’d never told them, and neither had Peter. Vision had been in a place that looked like the Compound, and he’d been happy to come back to Wanda. Perhaps Natasha had what she’d needed wherever she was.

“This battle,” Rhodey said. “Is Peter there?”

Tony's gaze snapped to her, and he saw the smallest twitch at the corner of her eyes before she answered. "Peter Parker is on that battlefield."

“So, it could be what already happened, or it could be something that’s still coming,” Steve said. “Queens was there with us when we faced Thanos.” He rubbed his temples. “You really can’t tell us anything else?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I have told you that you will live until at least 2023, at least most of you. Is that not enough?”

“No,” Tony snapped. “Not when I know you’re still hiding something from us.”

She cut a hand through the air. “Fine! You want to know what I know, even though it’s going to destroy your peace of mind for the next seven years?”

Tony got to his feet and advanced on her. “Yes! I want to know!”

She nodded and stared into his eyes as she answered, "Very well. Of the millions of outcomes we saw for that battle, in each one, except one which was the vaguest and most unlikely of them all, Peter Parker dies."

Tony staggered back, hand flying to his chest and horror filling him. “Pete’s going to die?”

He heard someone cry out in shock, voices exclaiming and demanding information, Bucky jumping to his feet, but it was a muffled blur around him.

“Yes,” she said solemnly. “At least that is millions of times more likely than him living. I don't know how or why. What I do know is that his death is the result of The Infinity Stones. Whether that comes in a battle you have not yet faced, or in the battle in which he already changed the possible outcomes, I do not know." She took a deep breath, sighed it out, and said, "But yes, in all likelihood, Peter Parker is going to die."

Chapter Text

The moment the dooming words passed the Ancient One’s lips, Tony ran out of the room, letting the door slam closed behind him.

Steve wanted to follow, to help, but he knew Tony wouldn’t want that. He’d need space to deal with this alone, or perhaps with Pepper’s help—not Steve’s.

Steve sat in shock, trying to process the idea of Peter dying when everything they'd been told before said that it was impossible. Steve didn't understand how it could happen, especially as The Ancient One said his death came at the hands of The Stones, which were supposed to protect him. What could happen to make them turn against him?

Bucky, who’d been staring into space with horror in his eyes, turned and walked away, out of the French doors. Steve watched him a moment, wondering whether or not to follow, and then decided he would. Even if it was not what Bucky wanted, it was what Steve needed.

This grief belonged to those of them from 2023, though Natasha was not as connected to Peter as them, and she seemed to be working through the news in her own way. Steve wanted the presence of his best friend to help him.

Steve followed Bucky out, eyes scanning the grounds for a sign of him, and he saw him slipping into the forest which edged the compound. He went after him, hearing the sounds of destruction before he saw him. Bucky was raging, shouting in fury, and there was the contradicting sound of flesh and something more solid hitting wood.

Steve reached him and stepped back a little when he saw what Bucky was doing. His fists were pounding a sturdy pine tree, blood spattering the bark as he used his flesh knuckles and creating dents with his metal fist.

“Buck,” he said sadly. “Please, don’t do that.”

Bucky spun, nostrils flaring with his sharp breaths, and eyes dark and angry. “Why not?”

“You’re hurting yourself.”

Bucky snorted. “This? This is not the thing that’s hurting me. What is making me feel like I’m—” He cut off, shook his head, and said, “This is not hurting me.”

Steve caught his fist as he swung again, using all his strength to stop Bucky from ripping his hand free. "I know," he said, voice cracking. "I know, Buck."

“Peter’s going to die,” Bucky said, voice wrecked. “After everything he’s done, everything he suffered and beat down, he’s going to die.”

“He might not,” Steve said, trying to make his hope sound like certainty. “It’s not guaranteed.”

Bucky scoffed. “Millions of futures of death, and one, the vaguest and most unlikely of them all, in which he lives. Really, Steve, do you think he’s going to live?”

“I have to,” Steve said, voice cracking. “Because if I think of the alternative, I’ll break.”

Tears slipped down Bucky’s face, and Steve felt a wave of new pain, separate to what he already felt himself. He’d not seen Bucky cry since they were kids. The fact he was doing it now, in front of Steve, made him realize just how deep this pain went.

Steve should have known it would happen, though. He’d never seen Bucky connect with anyone the way he had with Peter. It was different from how Bucky felt about him; it was more protective and pure. Bucky loved Peter for who he was, without hesitation, and he’d given Peter a part of himself that Steve had never seen shared. Perhaps Tony was Peter’s father, but Bucky loved Peter with that same overwhelming need to protect, too.

Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. “You’ve got to be strong for Queens.”

Bucky shook his head. "He's not here. He can't see me. He's in 2023, lying in that hospital bed without us, and we don't know how long that will last or when we'll be back. There's a battle, yeah, but is it the one we already faced or something that’s still coming? Peter was with us when Thanos came back, and he’ll be with us if we face a threat again.” He pressed his metal fingers to his eyes. “And that battle is going to kill him.”

“It might not. There’s a chance he’ll live. You heard what she said—we’re all there with him. We can protect him. We can create that one winning future.”

“Against Ego?” Bucky asked. “You saw what she did to him. How can any of us protect him from that if it’s her?”

“We’ll find a way.” Steve forced surety into his tone, willing the words to be true because he needed them to be. He was lost in this, scared, but he had to believe they could save Peter. If he let himself believe the alternative, like he told Bucky, he would break.

Bucky stared at him, the tears slipping down his cheeks unchecked. “Seven years.”

Steve shook his shoulders. “Exactly! We’ve got seven years to change things. We can find a way to sway things in our favor. We will talk to Mind again, just as soon as Peter is strong enough, and we can ask him what he knows. If Time was used to see what Strange and The Ancient One saw, he might know what happens. If he can tell us, we can come up with a plan.”

Bucky grimaced. “Yeah, seven years to come up with a plan, or two years left to love Peter before he dies.” He drew a deep breath through his nose. “We have two years, me and Peter have two years, and then we get him back in time for the battle which will kill him!”

“I don’t believe that,” Steve said roughly. “We’ve fought big odds together before.” An inkling of hope came to him. “And Queens created a new path once already. Tony should have snapped, he should have died, but Queens changed things. What’s to say he won’t change things again?”

Bucky wiped away the tears, and his lips quirked with a grim smile. "That logic only works one way, Steve. If Peter needs to die to save others, you and I both know he'll sacrifice himself in a heartbeat.”

“Then we don’t let him make that sacrifice. We stop him. We use all we’ve got to stop him and make him see there’s another way.”

“He let himself be tortured for Morgan,” Bucky reminded him.

“He did, but he’s even more bonded to her now that he was then. If we can make him see that he needs to live for her, no one will fight harder to survive than him.”

Bucky stared down at his bloody and bruised knuckles a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, you’re right: he’ll fight to live for Morgan.”

“He will, And he’ll fight to live for us, too. I know how you feel about him, Buck, and I know he feels the same for you. We are all going to fight harder than we ever have to save him, and we do have a chance.”

Bucky took a shaky breath. “You really think we can do this?”

Steve knew the answer Bucky needed, as it was the same one he needed himself, and he gave it with force in his voice. “I know we can."

They had to, because the alternative would break them apart more thoroughly than any so-called Civil War could.

xXx

Tony was drunk when Pepper found him, a bottle of whiskey clutched between his knees in a limp hand. He had collapsed on the bed the moment he was alone, ripped off his shirt when his collar had started to choke him, and now he was bare-chested and cold from the air conditioning. He made no attempt to change that, though, and ignored Friday's suggestions about adjusting the temperature. Instead, he drank until his eyes blurred and his head swam.

He thought he knew fear; he’d certainly felt it before. This was different, though. This was not about sacrificing himself by flying a nuke into a wormhole. It was not his death he was facing. This was the thought of losing his kid to overwhelming odds in a battle he may have already lived through once—or one that was still to come.

He took another swig from the bottle and bowed his head when he heard Pepper enter the room. She stopped in front of him, and he felt her eyes boring into him.

He forced himself to look up at her, saw the play of annoyance, shock, confusion, then sadness crossing her face. She sat down beside him and said, "I was in the city when Friday told me you needed me. I walked out of a board meeting to come."

Tony grunted. “Sorry I made you do that.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “I don’t care about them. I care about you. What’s happened? Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Tony closed his eyes and whispered, “Peter is going to die.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, and her fingers tightened, nails digging into his skin. "Is he sick?"

Tony shook his head. “No, he’s fine. He’s probably swinging around Queens right now, happy and free, alive. But in seven years, he’s going to die.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that bastard Strange and his buddy saw it. They saw millions of futures, a huge battle, and Peter dying.” He drew a shuddering breath. “There is one future, one against all the odds the world can throw at him, in which he lives.”

Her grip loosened. “So, he might live?”

“Millions, Pep—there are millions of deaths and only one life. What do you think’s going to happen?”

She sank down next to him. “I thought he couldn’t die. You told me he was immortal with The Infinity Stones.”

“I did because that’s what he said, but the bitch that delivered this news said it’s The Stones themselves that are going to kill him. Those… bastards! They were supposed to protect him. He was worthy of them, they chose him to do good, and now they’re going to kill him.”

Pepper sighed and leaned in close to him. Her lips pressed against his cheek, and that was the trigger for the tears that he had been keeping at bay.

She wiped them away with her warm fingers, cupping his face, and said, “I’m sorry, Tony. I’m so sorry.”

He swallowed hard. “It makes me think… I thought he was sending us back to stop Thanos, to save the world, now I can't help but wonder…"

“Wonder what?” she asked.

He grimaced. “I can’t help but wonder if it was a gift after all. Maybe he’s giving us these years, a do-over, to make the most of what we missed out on before.”

Pepper leaned her head against his shoulder. She wasn’t talking, but he could almost hear the cogs turning in her brain as she put her brilliant mind to use. "Or he's trying to save himself."

Tony froze. "You think so?"

Pepper shrugged. “I don’t know him. Do you think he might?”

Tony considered, remembering those weeks he’d had with him before they’d come back. Peter had been keeping a huge secret from them then, the dreams he’d been having, but what if it had been more? He’d assured them the attacks he dreamed of weren’t going to kill him, but had that been a carefully chosen assurance when he knew there was something else that would? He had the Time Stone. If Strange knew what was happening, didn’t that mean Peter had to know, too?

“I think he could know,” he said, turning the possibility over in his mind. “If he did, he definitely wouldn’t have told us.” He sighed. “He’s too damn stubborn and protective to bring us in on that kind of thing.”

“He sounds a lot like you,” she said.

“No,” Tony said quickly. “He’s way better than me, a good person, everything I’m not.”

“You’re a good man, Tony. I know it, Rhodey knows it, and your team knows. If what Steve tells me about how much Peter loves you is true, he knows it, too. None of us would love you if even half of what you believed about yourself was true.”

Tony sighed. They did love him, he knew that, but they all loved him despite who he was, not because of it. The innocent love of Peter and Morgan was different; they were young enough to see only the good in him. He loved his children and Pepper more than anything else in his life, more than he ever would love anything, and he knew their love for him was a gift.

“Do you know when he’s supposed to die?” she asked.

“The year we’ve come from, 2023,” he said. “And we don’t know if it’s the battle we already fought or if it’s something we’ve not faced yet.”

"Boss," Friday interrupted. "I thought you should know that your visitor has left, and Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers are back in the common room. I think you should join them."

Tony frowned, but Pepper got to her feet and held out a hand to him. He hesitated a moment, then stood, grabbed his shirt from the floor, and pulled it on. He took her hand and followed her out and along the halls to the common room.

He could see from Bucky’s pale face and red eyes that he had been working through his feelings, too, and the busted knuckles on his right hand told him that had been done with violence. Steve looked pale, but there was a determined gleam in his eyes.

“Pepper said something,” Tony said, dropping down onto the couch and then leaning against Pepper when she sat beside him. “Peter sent us back, yes, we don’t know why. Mind said it’s not Thanos or The Accords, but what if it’s so we can save him?”

“You think this kid knows he’s going to die?” Clint asked.

Bucky nodded, rubbing his chin. “He could. He keeps things close to the chest. He didn’t want to tell me about the dreams at first.” He frowned. “He could have sent us back to save him, I guess.”

“You’re not sure?” Sam asked. “Who wouldn’t want to save their own life?”

Steve smiled grimly. “If Queens thought dying was the right thing to do for others, he’d do it in a heartbeat. He doesn’t want to die, though, I am sure of that. Yeah, it’s totally possible he’s trying to save his life with us here.”

“But how do we do it?” Rhodey asked. “I’m invested; I like the kid I’ve met, and you say I’m going to love him one day, so I’m in. Tell me what to do?”

“That’s the problem,” Tony said. “We don’t know how.”

“There’s two options I can see,” Steve said. “The Ancient One says it’s a battle we’re all fighting in 2023. That could be Thanos’ attack, or it could be something new. We can’t do anything about the new one, we’ve no idea what it is, but we can do something about Thanos.”

Tony nodded slowly, processing the thought, and then sucked in a breath. “The Stones! They're what kills Peter, so we stop him from having them!" He jumped to his feet and paced up and down in front of the couch. "This is it! If we stop Peter from ever getting hold of The Stones, we can save him. If he doesn't have them, they can't kill him. We had a chance before, when we were facing Thanos, but we didn't get them out of there in time. Peter snapped before we could. This time we make sure he doesn't get the gauntlet, get it back into the quantum bridge, and finish it. There will be no Stones. There will be no death."

“You mean let it play out?” Rhodey asked. “The Snap you told us about, the battle in 2023 after everyone comes back?”

Tony nodded. “Exactly.”

“You think we can pull that off?” Sam asked. “I wasn’t there, or at least I’ve not been there yet, but that fight sounds big.”

“We can. If we all know what to do, to keep Peter away from The Stones, we can stop him snapping.” Tony ran a hand through his hair. “This is how we save his life, save him from Ross, and save him from the burden of The Infinity Stones.”

Bucky flexed his raw and bloody knuckles, face thoughtful. “We can do this. If we all know what's at stake, what we need to do, we can pull it off. We'll know he's coming this time; we'll be prepared, so we can work out a plan of action."

This was going to be difficult, but, for Peter, Tony would make it happen.

He was not about to lose his son again. 

Chapter Text

Wanda, who had been listening to their conversation in silence, spoke up. “I have a question. How did Thanos get the Mind Stone from Vision?”

A tense silence settled over the room, and Steve’s hands twitched into fists.

“Well?” she prompted.

“He killed him in the Battle of Wakanda in 2018,” Steve admitted.

His eyes moved to Vision, who showed no shock at the knowledge he would die, then to Wanda, whose eyes were narrowed and cheeks pale. She did not yet have the connection with Vision she would have in 2023, or even in two years from now. However, even now, they were closer to each other than to anyone else.

“So Vision has to die, too?” she asked.

Steve nodded. "Yeah, unless we get the Stone out of him and hand it over to Thanos."

“You mean give Thanos the Mind Stone, let half the universe die, just so you can have this battle in 2023 to maybe save this boy’s life?” Wanda’s eyes widened. “You can’t do that!”

“Wanda,” Vision said, voice soft.

"No!" she snapped, holding up a hand. "You can't sacrifice billions of lives, Vision and Natasha's lives, just to save one person. It's not right.”

"Damn right, it's not," Clint said.

Bucky and Tony exchanged a look laden with meaning, and Steve could almost see the words written across their faces—We shouldn’t have told them what we’re doing here.

Selfishly, Steve agreed. He wasn’t taking the fate of the world lightly, he would regret each and every life that would be lost for those five years, and Natasha and Vision’s even more, but this had to be the right thing to do.

“I’ve got to say, I’m with them,” Sam said. “I get his kid is special, and you all seem to really care about him, which is great, but it’s too much to ask to save one life.”

“You don’t understand!” Tony growled. “Peter deserves this.”

“Does he?” Clint asked. “How can anyone deserve that? It’s the universe, Tony. I’m a father, too, and I’d do anything for my kids, but you’re asking too much for one person.”

“You wouldn’t do it for Cooper?” Tony asked. “Or Lila or Nathaniel?”

Clint gritted his teeth and didn’t answer.

Steve looked at the faces around him, and he saw the rift growing. Just as they had last time, the fracture lines were showing. It would be different this time; it would be those from 2023, and perhaps Rhodey, against the others. They would break apart, and this time it would be worse. They would be fighting to save Peter while the others fought in the opposite direction. This would be so much worse. 

He looked at Tony and knew that he could see the same rift growing. Tony seemed angry about it, his eyes hardening and teeth-gritting.

“One future in which he lives,” Sam said thoughtfully.

“Exactly!” Tony snapped. “One, against all odds. One that’s got to happen unless we can pull our plan off for the battle.”

"Yeah, but it's still one future." Sam shrugged. "What if that one future is stopping the battle altogether? That was your plan, right? To save Peter in a different way. We were going to stop Thanos from getting The Stones, stopping that huge battle you told us about in 2023. That would save Peter, too."

“But that battle is coming,” Tony said. “The Ancient One just said so.”

"Yeah, but is it set in stone?"

Clint clapped his hands once and nodded. “Yes! See, you’re all going about this the wrong way. Sure, you want to save this kid’s life—”

“Peter’s!” Tony snapped.

“Okay, yeah, Peter’s,” Clint said. “But what if you could save the whole world doing it: stop Thanos getting The Stones, stop Peter needing to snap, stop this whole thing happening. No one needs to die at all.”

Wanda nodded. “I think he’s right.”

Tony opened his mouth to reply, eyes angry, but Vision spoke first.

"I am not unwilling to die for this cause. My life was happenstance anyway; I would not have existed if not for Ultron. If my death is going to protect someone else, I am happy to give my life, and I do believe Peter Parker should be protected, but I think it's too heavy a fate for a universe to save one life." He looked at Tony. "You created those parameters in me to defend life. That is what is guiding me now. I think it’s too much to ask to allow Thanos’ plan to come into fruition in order to save Peter later.”

Clint snapped his fingers. “Thanks, Vision. Wanda, you with me?”

Wanda nodded. "I am. I know Peter is good because I remember what he did for Pietro and me, but his life is one against billions."

Tony cursed under his breath and rubbed his temples. “You don’t understand!”

"I think it's you that doesn't understand," Clint said. "You're all blinded by this kid. I get it, I would be, too, if he was one of mine, but you are asking too much."

Bucky got to his feet and walked away, hands fisted and fresh drops of blood dripping from his scraped knuckles to the floor.

“Would Peter want this?” Sam asked. “If he’s as good as you say—and all evidence points to the fact he is from what he did for us, coming back to our past to change things—is he going to want all that death to save him?”

“He doesn’t get a choice!” Bucky roared, rounding on him. “We get to choose!”

Sam looked a little startled by the show of fury from Bucky, a little wary.

Steve got quickly to his feet and went to place a hand on Bucky’s heaving chest, murmuring, “Take it easy, Buck.”

“He should have a choice,” Wanda said. “It’s his life that so many will be sacrificed for.” 

Clint got to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, I'll lay it down for you: I'm not letting you do this. I've got three kids at home, and I don't want them left in a world where half their friends and family have died. I won't allow it."

Steve shifted uncomfortably, and Natasha looked down at her lap. Steve was sure they were thinking the same thing—Clint's children would not be left in that world as they would die, too.

“I’m sorry, I am, but I’m with Clint,” Sam said.

“So are we,” Wanda said, gesturing between herself and Vision.

“And since we’ve got Vision, we’ve got the Stone,” Clint said, a touch of smugness in his tone.

“I’m truly sorry,” Vision said. “I can’t agree with you, Tony. I will take the Mind Stone from your reach and—” He cut off, bowed, pressing his hands to his face.

Steve gasped as Tony leaped to his feet, Peter's name on his lips.

Vision straightened up, his eyes the yellow shade of Mind.

Tony’s hands shook as he pressed them to his chest and said, “Mind, how is he?”

"Peter is stronger now," Mind said, making Steve breathe a sigh of relief, and Bucky made a strange choked laughing sound. “He has separated himself with Time and Reality to give himself time to heal and build strength to talk to you.”

“You mean he’s disconnected himself from the machines!” Tony asked, eyes wide. “He can’t do that! He needs them!”

“No,” Mind said. “Though some of the machines have been removed by Helen Cho as he does not need them; he is breathing unassisted now and the section of skull has been replaced. Peter has just created a bubble between himself and the people with him. For him, time is passing, though no one else is aware of that. In the timeline of 2023, you have been gone for only a matter of hours."

Tony sighed out a breath and massaged his chest, right over his heart. If his body was reacting the same as Steve’s, his heart was racing.  

“Why are you here?” Clint asked. “You coming to weigh in on either side of this argument?”

Mind’s eyes became downcast. “I am.” He looked to Tony. “You can’t avert the battle. It is set in stone.”

Tony grinned. “So our plan”—he gestured between himself, Steve, and Bucky—"is the right one.”

“No.” Mind rubbed his forehead. “The Battle of Wakanda will come. The Battle of Earth will come. What you must do is make sure Peter Parker is the one that snaps.”

“Wait, what?” Bucky said, advancing a step. “What the hell is the point of us being here if we’ve got to make that happen? It’s already happened! Why are we here if not to stop it?”

“Because there is a force here working against that outcome,” Mind said. “Ego has taken a vessel, they are now Nemesis, and Peter’s timeline is being changed by them. Time cannot see the path, but the outcome of that battle is adjusting and changing in ways we cannot allow because Peter is being attacked.”

“Nemesis is attacking Peter?” Tony asked, eyes wide.

“They are attacking his path,” Mind said. “We do not know exactly what they’re trying to do, but the thing that made us choose Peter is varying. He may not be Worthy when the battle comes because of the intervention of Nemesis. “

“And that means?” Sam asked.

"If he is not Worthy when he snaps, it means the world will be saved, but Peter will die."

Tony made a sound of pain and breathed hard through his nose. “We can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.”

"Good," Mind said. "Because that is why you're here. Peter sent you to guide his path. He knows he's under attack, that the future he created may be forfeit, and that’s why he returned you with Time. He is relying on you to prevent that from happening." He took a breath, massaged his temples, and said, "The path Peter has traveled, the person he was at the moment he snapped, is what made him Worthy. We do not know what Nemesis is doing as we cannot see them. We're blind to their path, so you have to be on your guard. Let Peter’s path progress as it did before, support and guide him, and hope that he is the right person at the moment it matters.”

Steve was nodding, processing what he was hearing, but Tony was clearly struggling with something as he was fisting and relaxing his hands and his eyes were distant.

“We’ve got to let it all happen again?” Bucky asked. “He’s got to die on Titan, he’s got to have a building dropped on him, go through all that pain, again?”

Mind looked equally as distressed, but he nodded. “Each of those experiences shaped who Peter is. They have to be allowed to happen. You will be here with him, you can support him and love him as that will only make him stronger, will build him towards being the person he needs to be, but the events that came also made him Worthy, and they must happen.”

“You can’t be serious,” Tony snapped. “We’ve got to let all that crap with Toomes happen? I’ve got to see him die in my arms again? I've got to live for five years without him?"

Mind’s eyes were mournful as he replied. “Yes. I know this is a heavy burden for you, and Peter knows that, too, but you must do it. He did not make the decision to send you here lightly. You must know that he did it to save his life and others. If Peter is Unworthy, he will die, and others will never be returned to life.” His voice became soft. “I know this is going to be hard for you, Mr. Stark, but it’s what Peter needs from you.”

Tony nodded, jaw tight, and said, “Fine. Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“We all have to,” Steve said. “If it’s all those things that make him Worthy of The Stones, we’ve got to let them happen to save his life when it matters.”

Mind nodded. “If you love him, you will let him suffer for a time now to save his life later.”

“This isn’t right,” Bucky said through his teeth. “You’re The Infinity Stones! You get to choose whether or not he’s Worthy—you can decide when it matters. You can’t let him die.”

Mind's lips turned down. "You love Peter, we know, and so do we, though love is perhaps not the right word for it as we are not in any way human. We value Peter in a way that is beyond the human ability to love. If we could save him, choose him as Worthy, we would. The thought of losing him distresses us all." His lips quirked slightly. "You should be glad Power is not able to connect to you now as he is angrier than I have ever seen. He cares deeply for Peter."

“Power can go to hell,” Bucky snapped. “You all can. You’re the ones that are going to kill him if he’s not good enough for you.”

“He is good enough!” Mind said, his eyes narrowed. “It is not something we can decide, though. The circumstances were unique before. He either is Worthy or is not.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It is down to all of you to make sure he is. You have the power here. If you love Peter—”

“We do!” Bucky bellowed.    

“Then it should be easy for you to do what’s right,” Mind finished. "His life is in your hands now, not ours. Make him the person he was before, see him through this journey, and in seven years, you will return to the time and place you belong with the Peter that you love. Fail, and you will return to a world without him, Natasha, or Vision."

Clint frowned. “So, to give Nat another chance at life, we’ve got to watch half the universe die, watch her die, and let this kid suffer?”

"Yes," Mind said. "In particular circumstances, at least. Peter has suffered before and come through it; he can again. You have a chance to alter other things, though. You have already changed things, Mr. Stark. You took Peter as an intern earlier than before, changed his path, and…" He smiled fondly. "You already changed his life for the better. And you, Sergeant Barnes, have given him an interaction which, though he is blind to who you are now, has pleased him in 2023 because he knew that meeting came from love.”

Steve’s eyes snapped to Bucky. “You’ve seen Peter?”

Bucky held up a hand. “I’ll tell you later.” He addressed Mind. “But Peter’s okay. In 2023, I mean, he’s okay now?”

"He is healing," Mind said. "He is enjoying the flow of changes that this time is taking to him. You know how it worked for you when he visited, what you saw; Peter is experiencing that now. You're making him happy."

Bucky nodded, smiled, and then his face fell. “But if we mess this up, I’ll never have a future relationship with him, will I? I won’t have a chance to be with him then, to know him the same way.”

“You won’t,” Mind agreed. “So I suggest you pour all your energy into supporting him now.” He rubbed his temples. “I cannot stay. Peter is weary. I will come back when I can, but I don’t think you’ll need me again. You know what you have to do now. Love him, support him, guide him—”

“And hope for the best?” Tony asked, the words bitter.

Mind’s lips turned down again. “Yes. We believe you can do this; Peter believes you can. He chose you for to come back and kept Colonel Rhodes with him for a reason. He kept someone he loves and trusts there to protect the people left behind, and he sent the strongest fighters, the people he believes can do this, back to help him." He gave his head a small shake. "Yes, I'm coming." He lifted a hand to his and then closed his eyes and sighed.

“You back, Vis?” Tony asked.

Vision nodded, opened his eyes, and said, “Did you get the message he was trying to impart?”

"Yes," Clint said bitterly. "We've still got to watch the universe suffer, and the kid might die anyway, so you and Nat are doomed. We got the damn message."              

Vision nodded, then looked between Tony, Bucky, Steve, and Natasha. "Peter has a message for you, too."

Tony’s head snapped up. “Yeah? Is he okay? What’s he saying?”

Vision smiled. "He says, thank you."

Tony huffed an uncomfortable laugh. “Thank you. We’ve got to let it all play out, risk watching him die, and he says thank you.”

“Yes,” Vision said. “And he said something else.”

Tony rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, what’s that?”

Vision’s voice was soft as he replied, and it held all the regret Steve guessed he’d heard from Peter. “He says he’s sorry.”

Tony turned away. “Yeah. Sorry. Great.”

Steve understood Tony’s feelings as he felt the same. They couldn’t protect Peter from The Stones or the trauma he’d shown them through BARF of Toomes. They couldn’t save the universe from five years of pain. They had to guide Peter through the next two years and hope and pray that he was worthy at the end of it.

If they didn’t, if he wasn’t, they would watch him die.    

Chapter Text

Tony adjusted his tie, took a breath, and then entered the conference room. Rhodey was behind him, and the rest of The Avengers followed.

This was the first of the meetings they'd asked for to renegotiate the Sokovia Accords. They were prepared for a lot of them, as they knew it would be a slow process. Tony hoped it was done by September, or at least that he had permission to act in emergencies by then, as otherwise there was a ferry full of people in danger, which he apparently had to let play-out for the sake of his son's life.

Just another punch to the gut he would have to face in the fall, which would be followed by the pain of taking Peter’s suit and leaving him even more vulnerable against Toomes.

If not for the task that Peter and Mind had laid on them, Tony would have Toomes arrested already; he would shut his scheme down and never let him within an inch of Peter. But, no, he had to watch it happen, for the whole thing to traumatize his son, because that was apparently one of the things that made him Worthy.

They were already working against Nemesis, though, at least as much as they could. They knew Josef was involved somehow, and they suspected Zemo, so Tony had Friday running a program searching for either of them in all public and private surveillance networks. He was breaking a few laws to do it, but he didn’t care. 

He couldn’t protect Peter from what was coming for him from Toomes or Thanos, but he was going to do everything he could to make him Worthy when it mattered, and that meant taking Josef and Zemo out of the equation before Ego could put them to use against his son.

Lost in his thoughts of Peter and the future, and only giving the occupants of the room the scantest attention, Tony was surprised when his eyes fell on T’Challa sitting at the table, wearing a black suit and pensive expression.

“King T’Challa,” he said. “I didn’t expect you.”

T’Challa nodded. “Technically, I am still not crowned king as we have not held the ceremony—that is happening next week. I thought the topic at hand was important enough for me to come from preparations for a day, though.”

“It’s an honor to have you here,” Steve said.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

T’Challa smiled slightly and watched as they all came in and took their seats around the long table.

Tony took in the faces, seeing Ross sitting at the head of the table, directly opposite Steve, with the representatives from Great Britain, Australia, Germany, Kenya, and Russia across the table from their seats.  These were just a handful of the countries represented, and Tony knew they would have another ceremony with all countries before the hoped-for changes could be ratified.

Ross shuffled a sheaf of papers and said, “Well, we all know why we’re here.” His mouth set as if he tasted something bad. “I think it would be better to hear what The Avengers think they need before we begin negotiations.”

Steve cleared his throat. “What we think we need is what all human rights say we deserve: a fair jury trial for any transgressions instead of automatic imprisonment and appropriate sentences instead of life.”

“We also want the freedom to act in an emergency,” Tony said. “We can’t be tethered by rules if it comes at the cost of innocent lives.”

T’Challa rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded. The other representatives looked less impressed, though, and Ross was smiling smugly.

“What do you believe constitutes an emergency?” Bennett, the British representative, asked. "Would the situation in Lagos have required action without permission?"

Wanda shifted in her seat and cast her eyes down.

“Lagos was a mission,” Steve said stiffly. “We were there to stop a powerful threat, Brock Rumlow, also known as Crossbones, ending a multitude of lives. The emergency came when he was revealed to be wearing a suicide vest. If we’d waited for permission before acting against him, a lot more people would have died.”

“Enough people died regardless,” Ross said, casting T’Challa a pointed look.

“Which was my fault,” Wanda said. “I regret those deaths more than you can possibly imagine.”

Ross smirked. “No more than King T’Challa and his people regret the deaths of their countrymen, I imagine. I assume the deceased had families, King T’Challa?”

T’Challa shot Ross a disapproving look but said, “They did.”

Wanda cast her gaze down to the tabletop again.

“The bomb was an emergency,” Steve said. “And we all regret what happened. We accept that we could have waited for permission to be invited into Nigeria to stop Rumlow when the intelligence of his plan reached us, but we could not have waited in the actual moment the threat presented itself.”

“You could have handled it differently,” Bennett said.

“Perhaps,” Steve said. “Decisions have to be made in a split-second in circumstances like that. That’s what Wanda did. That is what we all would have done in the moment. It is what we all would do if another threat presented itself. We should not face life imprisonment for trying to save lives.”

“Tell me, Mr. Rogers, are you expecting another threat?” Vasily, the Russian representative, asked.

“Previous experience tells me to always expect a threat,” Steve said.

“You sound rather paranoid, Captain,” Ross said, a malicious gleam in his eyes. 

“I call it learning from my mistakes,” Steve said.

Ross adjusted his papers again and said, “The thing you must understand, all of you, is that your actions have consequences. If you are not facing appropriate punishment for your mistakes, there will be no reason for you to be conscientious.”

“The imprisonment clause is non-negotiable,” Vasily said.

Tony sighed and massaged his temples. A headache was building behind his eyes already, and he knew they had hours of this ahead of them, and that was just today. They were going to go back and forth on this for weeks, maybe months. 

If not for the fact he needed to be able to act for the ferry incident, he would have walked out, said it didn’t matter, and then dealt with Thanos and faced the rebuke after. There would be no dire consequences for them anyway. Steve and the others had been outlaws, but that was soon forgiven when the fight came and they’d faced it. The Avengers were needed, and the sooner these assholes accepted that, the better things would be.

“Then our signing is out of the question,” Steve said. “We will not give up our human rights to appease you when we all know our freedom to act is vital and…”

Tony let his mind wander to the time he'd spent with Peter on Saturday, how much he’d enjoyed it, and ignored Ross' eyes, which he could feel boring into him.

Ross could go to hell. They all could. Tony was going to be selfish awhile and let Steve handle the politics.

xXx

When the meeting finally came to a close, three hours later, with nothing decided and not an inch given on either side, Tony breathed a sigh of relief and watched the UN representatives file from the room with Ross at the head, his smug voice echoing back to them.

“…merely a matter of time before they drop these stupid arguments and sign…”

Only one of them remained seated, and that was T’Challa. He had refused Ross’ offer to chaperone him back to his jet, saying he wanted to speak to The Avengers about something first. Ross had not seemed curious, which struck Tony as strange, but he didn’t waste more of his time thinking about Ross than he had to. 

When the last of them were gone, Steve gave T’Challa an appraising glance and asked, “Did you want to speak to us, King T’Challa?”

“Just T’Challa is fine,” he said. “I am not your king. And yes, I do wish to speak to you, all of you, if I may.”

“Of course,” Tony said, sitting up straight. “What do you need?”

T'Challa rubbed his chin, then leaned forwards and said, "I don’t know if you realized, but I was watching you at the ceremony in Vienna."

“I noticed,” Natasha said.

Tony certainly hadn’t, but if any of them were going to, it would be Natasha.

“What did you see, T’Challa?” Tony asked.

T’Challa’s eyes became speculative. “You were expecting something. Even before the gunman showed himself, you were on your guard. I wish to ask you, was the shooting an arranged intervention by The Avengers so Miss Maximoff could save my father and therefore paint you in a good light?”

Tony sucked in a breath, eyes widening. He’d never imagined T’Challa would have drawn that conclusion, no matter what he noticed. However, from an outside and uninformed perspective, it did make sense. None of them would ever have been so reckless or underhanded to do it, but some people would.

“No,” Steve said stiffly. “You have my word that we did not. None of us anticipated the shooting, let alone arranged it.”

T’Challa nodded. “I believe you. However, you were expecting something to happen. You did not bring all of your forces into the conference; some of you remained outside and came in at the opportune moment. Why is that?”

Steve looked at Tony and raised an eyebrow. Tony held up a finger to indicate he wanted a moment and considered. He wasn’t sure what to do. They could tell T’Challa the truth, he could be an asset to them, but he was unlikely to believe them. Who would? It had taken the proof of the earthquake to convince Pepper, and the others had met Mind, and some of them Peter, before they believed. 

“Time travel,” Natasha said baldly. “Steve, Tony, and I are here from 2023.”

T’Challa frowned. “And you knew my father was going to be shot?”

He did not dispute her statement, merely asked a question, which shocked Tony as he expected incredulity or at least doubt.

“You believe us?” he asked.

T’Challa shook his head. “I do not believe you, nor do I believe you’re lying to me. I have not yet seen if you’re telling the truth. I would like to know more, though.”

Natasha shot Tony a glance, and he nodded. They had nothing to lose by telling him.

“The last time we lived through these weeks, your father was killed in an explosion,” Tony said. “An enemy called Helmut Zemo planted a bomb while disguising himself as Bucky Barnes. You might have heard of him. He was known as The—”

“Winter Soldier,” T’Challa said. “Yes. I know of him. But it was not he that planted the bomb?”

“No, Zemo was wearing a Photostatic Veil that looked like him. He wanted to frame Bucky for the attack, to bring him out of hiding. His overall plan was to use what he knew to tear apart The Avengers in revenge for what happened in Sokovia. That ultimately happened before. This time we have averted it by changing things that happened before; instead of some of us signing The Accords and others not, we all agreed to not sign them until changes could be made.”

“I see,” T’Challa said. “How, though, was my father killed by a heart attack this time, following an attempted assassination, when last time it was a bomb?”

“Because some things are locked in time," Steve said. "We were there to stop the bombing, save your father, and stop Bucky from being framed. We didn't need to stop Bucky being framed as the bomb was never set—Zemo's path was changed by someone else. But your father's death was set in stone as it made you the person you will be when greater threats come."

“And the shooting?” T’Challa asked.

"We don't know how or why that happened," Steve said. "There was no sign of a gunman there when we faced this before. Perhaps they were lying in wait, and the bomb came first, or perhaps their path was changed, too."

“We don’t think so, though,” Tony added. “Do you know who the gunman was yet?”

T'Challa narrowed his eyes. "I do, as do you, I think. Do you know his story?"

Tony nodded. "A friend that also lived through those days with us knew, and he told us."

T’Challa sighed. “N'Jadaka, Erik Stevens, Killmonger. He has many names. I got the full story of him from Zuri. It is a bitter fate to bear to know that my father did that and left a child fatherless, but the crime was great, and the honor of our people had been marred." He nodded thoughtfully. "You know the truth about Wakanda, don't you?"

“We know you’re not what you allow the outside world to believe, yes. We know your technological capabilities,” Tony said.

“I see. Well, this is interesting, but you could know the truth of Wakanda and the story of what happened from N’Jadaka himself. How can I know you’re not part of his plot?”

“You can’t,” Tony said. “But if you can wait two weeks, you will see proof. There is going to be a hurricane that will devastate Haiti. Over five hundred people will die.”

T’Challa frowned. “You live with that knowledge, the cost of all those lives, truly?”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “We live with even worse knowledge than that. Yes, we know deaths are coming in two weeks, and there will be more all over the world until 2018 when the real threat comes, but there’s nothing we can do.”

“And what is the real threat?” T’Challa asked.

“An alien called Thanos,” Tony said, the words bitter in his mouth. “He is going to come at the end of May 2018, and he will kill half the universe’s population—you included.”

If T’Challa was shocked, he did not show it. He merely nodded to himself and said, “And you all, I assume, survive and somehow are here from 2023 to stop it.”

“No,” Tony said. “Though I wish more than anything that it was that. We’ve been sent back to let it all happen, watch it happen, because nothing we can do will change it.” He glanced at Vision and said, “Any chance Mind’s going to make an appearance to explain?”

Vision shook his head. “Not that I’m aware. I have felt no intrusion.”

Tony sighed. “Do you want to hear this, T’Challa? Or do you want to wait two weeks to know we’re telling the truth before we fill you in?”

T’Challa steepled his fingers under his chin. “I think I would like to hear it now, without the assurance of certainty. It will make it a more open-minded experience.”

“Go ahead, Cap,” Tony said. “I’ve said and heard it too many times lately.”

Steve nodded, leaned forwards, and said, "Thanos is a Titan, and he's searching for the six Infinity Stones…"

xXx

T’Challa nodded as Steve finished and said, “And there is a person who will send you back with the Time Stone.”

“The most powerful person in the universe,” Tony said, pride in his voice. “My son.”

“He will send you back to ensure he suffers through those experiences again, his death and the death of half of the universe, for what end?”

“Because he has to be Worthy,” Steve said bitterly. “Whatever else happens, half the universe is going to die, some of us will die, and the battle will come on their return. We will win the battle. All that we don’t know is if it will kill Peter to do it.”

Tony bowed his head and swallowed down the horror. The fact the battle and outcome were locked was a relief, it meant they would win, but the idea of losing his son almost brought him to his knees. He couldn’t imagine living in a world without Peter in it again. It had been hard the first time, sometimes almost drowning him in the pain, but this time it would destroy him.

He looked around the room, seeing the pain in Steve, the sadness in Natasha and Rhodey—those who knew Peter—and the solemn expressions of those that did not yet know him but knew what he would become. It burned Tony to witness it. His son, his wonderful, brave, and Worthy son, could be a casualty of that battle because he wanted to save the world.

Tony sometimes dreamed of that fight, remembering how he felt to see Peter on that battlefield, the cursed gauntlet on his arm, and he remembered the horror he’d felt, crawling to him on his hands and knees, not knowing if he was alive. That would happen again, and the outcome may not be the overwhelming relief of seeing Peter’s chest move with Steve’s intervention.

Peter might be dead.

“I can see this is a difficult topic for you,” T’Challa said, eyes moving to Tony. “A torturous one for you, Mr. Stark. I am sorry for your pain.”

“Thanks,” Tony muttered.

“Do you believe us?” Steve asked.

T’Challa considered his answer carefully. “I cannot believe or disbelieve. I can tell you all believe this to be the truth, but the idea is incredible to me. However, as regent and protector of my people, I must take the threat seriously. You say I cannot change things?”

“You can’t,” Steve said. “Some things are locked, and those events are among them. We have to live through them to get to the future we’re wishing for.”

“Then there is nothing for me to do but wait,” T’Challa said.

“No,” Tony said. “You can prepare. Wakanda is going to be invaded by Thanos’ army in 2018, and your people will be fighting here with us in 2023. You can commit to making them the very best warriors they can be.”

T’Challa’s lips quirked with a smile. “Okoye would argue that they already are, but I concede your point. I will have The Dora Milaje train and prepare, though I will not tell them what they are preparing for. I can see in your eyes that this is a heavy burden to live with, and I will not force that upon them, too.”

"Something you need to be aware of," Tony said, pushing aside his selfish sadness for a moment. "Killmonger had a plan in place to depose you. I know he is jailed now, but he does technically have a claim to the throne. If he is freed and comes for you…"

"I will make sure that does not happen," T'Challa said. "Not for myself—if I am to lose my place as King, then I will—but for my people. I will ensure that he is moved from Austria to Wakanda to face punishment. Can you tell me anything else that is coming for Wakanda?"

“We can’t tell you it all,” Steve said thoughtfully. “But if you give us your word that you will not expose his location, we can introduce you to someone that heard the full history from you.”

T’Challa smiled slightly. “Am I to assume The Winter Soldier is here?”

“His name is Bucky,” Tony said, a slight edge to his tone. “And yes.”

T'Challa nodded. "Then, by all means, bring him to me. I would like to hear the full story, and perhaps I can offer something in return."

Steve glanced at Tony, seeming to be checking for agreement, and Tony nodded. He trusted T’Challa. “I’ll go get him,” he said, then slipped out of the room.

Tony watched him go and felt a small pang of hope. If they could get T’Challa on their side, and he seemed to be coming around to them, perhaps he could help them with their mission to have Bucky pardoned as well as with The Accords.

xXx

Bucky was sitting between Tony and Steve, his eyes wary as he finished filling T’Challa in on the story of what had happened—what perhaps still might happen if those events were locked—to his country.

“Well,” T’Challa said as Bucky finished. “That is quite the story.”

“And it’s all true,” Bucky said. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I know you cannot understand, but I owe Wakanda a great debt.”

“From what you have said, I agree that you do,” T’Challa said. He looked down at his folded hands a moment, brow furrowed with thought. “I can perhaps add another preemptive debt. I can offer you a place in Wakanda where you can live free while your friends pursue their mission to have you pardoned. You could be free to go outdoors among nature, to live in peace, without these walls around you.”

Tony looked at Bucky, wondering what he would say. It would be a tempting offer, as Tony knew Bucky had been happy in Wakanda, but he didn’t particularly want to lose his presence with them. He would miss him.

Bucky didn’t hesitate before shaking his head. “Thanks for the offer, I really do appreciate it, but I can’t leave New York.”

“Because you cannot be parted from the boy you love?” T’Challa asked.

“Yes,” Bucky said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not leaving Peter.”

“I get that you want to be close, Buck, but this would be better,” Steve said. “It’s not safe for you here. If someone sees you, we can’t stop them from locking you up.”

“No,” Bucky said defiantly. “I’m not leaving.”

Tony sighed. “But you know you can’t see Peter again. It’s not safe for you to be out there yet.”

Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m still not going.”

“Because you think you can see him again?” Tony guessed.

He saw it was the truth from the look of longing in Bucky’s eyes, but his answer was a steady, “I know I can’t.”

“The offer remains open if you change your mind,” T’Challa said. “And with that, I will take my leave. I will await the proof you have promised, and if it comes, I will make myself available for further discussion.” He looked between Tony and Steve and said, “If that proof does come, you have my word that I will commit myself to changing The Accords in your favor. I do not think The Avengers should be shackled while this threat is approaching. However, I do not know if my voice will be heard by the other representatives when there are many against you.”

“We know,” Tony said with a heavy feeling in his gut. “But we’re committed to fighting them.”

T’Challa nodded. “As you know, I have a stake in this, too. Just because it is unknown to outsiders now, it does not mean The Black Panther would not be under these rules, too, if its existence became public knowledge.” He got to his feet. “Thank you for sharing your story. As little as I want to believe so great a threat is coming, I will not be surprised if that proof does come.”

“It will,” Steve said heavily. “And believe me, we all wish it wouldn’t.”

T’Challa accepted Steve’s offer to see him out, and they left the room, leaving Tony with his head in his hands, feeling the weight of everything that had happened and been shared. Sometimes he could live along with the knowledge that he might lose Peter, but this was not one of those times. He had two days until he would see him again, and he was sure those days would drag out.

The time without his children always dragged.

Chapter Text

Peter was late to get to lunch as Mr. Harrington had held him back after class to talk about an assignment Peter had done. He'd been worried at first, thinking he'd messed it up, which he shouldn't have done as it was chemistry which he was good at. However, it was merely a pep talk about keeping grades solid before finals—which he was—and more praise on his science fair project—which Peter was sure would have been forgotten if not for Tony Stark’s reaction.

With relief and a rumbling stomach, he thanked Mr. Harrington then fled the room and ran along the halls to the cafeteria where he joined the last of the line to get his lunch. It was Salisbury steak day, and he grimaced as it was slopped onto his plate by Mrs. Greene, the cafeteria lady. He grabbed a roll and carton of milk then carried it over to his and Ned’s table.

Ned was waiting for him, scooping up his food with a fork and turning the pages of a Captain America comic with his free hand. He looked up as Peter sat down, prodded his fork into his food, and said, “It’s good.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Ned shrugged. “It’s been worse. It’s nothing on my mom’s cooking, of course, but nothing is. This is totally edible. Only a little slimy aftertaste.”

Peter grimaced and began to eat. It was bad, but not as bad as some of May’s cooking, so it was edible. He’d heard they were looking for a new cook for the school, but Mrs. Greene had been at the school for forty years, and the faculty felt bad about dumping her. It would be a mercy to all students, though, as her skills had deteriorated with age. 

He wouldn’t have eaten it at all if not for the fact he’d keel over from low blood sugar if he didn’t. The spider bite had given him crazy hunger pangs with his metabolism ramped up so much. He was better about it now, though. He kept bags of dried fruit and nuts in his bag to snack on between meals.

Everything after the bite was an adjustment, learning his new body and improved health. May made him go to the ophthalmologist to find out why he said he no longer needed his glasses. The eye doctor had said it was natural but rare, something to do with puberty. Peter thought he was talking crap as he’d never heard of it before, but he wasn’t complaining. Nor was he complaining about the fact his asthma had seemed to clear right up.

Those changes became so much more immense when he decided he would use the effects of the bite to help people. Spider-Man had been born, and Peter started on the adventure of a lifetime. He felt bad about keeping it from everyone he loved, but he just thought it was better kept a secret. After Ben, after his failure, he didn’t want them to know what he’d allowed to happen.

“So, you want to come over after school?” Ned asked. “I’ve got that new Avengers game we’ve not beaten yet.”

“I can’t,” Peter said, biting his lip to hide his smile. “I’ve got to see May after school. Her friend is picking me up again.”

That was the excuse he’d used to explain the sleek black Audi that picked him up from school once a week and came at weekends to drive him to Avengers Tower.

“Dude,” Ned groaned. “I hardly see you outside school anymore. You’re always with May or studying. I know you, Peter, you don’t need to study that hard unless you’ve changed your mind about testing into college. And if you have, I’ve got a few things to say since I’ll be the one left here alone with Flash!”

“I’m not testing into college,” Peter said. “I’m…” He bit his lip again.

He'd been keeping the internship to himself for a month now because he wasn't sure it was going to last. He didn't want Ned to get all excited and proud, then find out Peter messed up and lost it. It just seemed impossible that something so cool could happen to Peter and actually last. He kept expecting to get a call from Tony, or maybe it’d just be an email, telling him the arrangement was over, that he'd gotten what he needed from him and no longer needed to waste his time with Peter.

But it had been a month, and Tony showed no signs he was tired of Peter, and he’d not even messed up once. He had helped Tony with a prosthetic arm he was building for an amputee, and he came up with a new way to manipulate the joints, which Tony seemed impressed by.

Maybe now was the time.

“What are you hiding, Peter?” Ned asked, lines of hurt around his eyes.

Peter took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you can’t start screaming—”

“As if I would,” Ned scoffed.

“And you can’t tell anyone. No one would believe me apart from you, especially not Flash, and I don’t want people calling me a liar.”

“What’s this about, Peter?”

Peter dropped his voice. “After the science fair, Tony Stark came to our apartment to speak to May. He wanted to offer me an internship with him. May said yes, so he asked me. I said yes, obviously, so now I’m his personal intern.”

Ned made a small squeaking sound, and his mouth dropped open.

Peter allowed himself a grin. “Yeah.”

“Dude… You… And… Wow!” he whispered.

Relieved by his quiet reaction, Peter nodded and felt a wave of relief and happiness at finally making this real by telling his best friend. He’d wanted to from the beginning, but it would have been awful to then have to tell him he lost it.

His relief quickly faded and was replaced by mortification as Ned shouted. “You’re Tony’s Stark’s—”

Peter clapped his hand over Ned’s mouth, making the last words muffled, and his eyes bugged. “Ned, no!”

Ned shook his head behind Peter's hand, his eyes immediately horrified, but it was too late; the damage was done.

“You’re Tony Stark’s what?” Flash asked, sidling over to their table, shoving away Peter’s lunch, making the gravy slop over the tray, and dropping his bag down. “Stalker? Number one fan? Secret love child? No, that’s too big a lie even for Parker. So, tell me, Penis, what little lie have you just told your chubby friend to make him react like this?”

“Nothing,” Peter said, dropping his hand from Ned’s mouth. “We were just talking about something I saw on the news.”

Flash scoffed. "You watch the news? Everyone knows SpongeBob Square Pants is your limit." His eyes drifted to MJ, who was sitting at the end of their table. "You been filling him in on world events, Jones? What are you protesting this week? Climate change, capitalism, or is it maybe the Sokovia Accords? No, I bet shackling superheroes is your kind of thing." He pointed a finger at her. "That's pretty selfish when you live in Queens, which Spider-Man protects."

MJ lowered her paperback book, looked him up and down, then raised one finger, flipping him off.

Not able to get the argument and attention he needed from her, he turned back to Peter and Ned. “Well, Penis, Chubs, which is it? My money’s on stalker.”

“Nothing,” Peter said, color flushing his cheeks. “I’m nothing to Tony Stark.”

“Damn right,” Flash said, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “You’re nothing to anyone. Don’t forget it.”

He strode back to his friends, who were laughing and nudging his shoulder with approval.

“I’m so sorry,” Ned whispered. “I just lost control. I was overwhelmed. I’m the world’s worst friend. You want to punch me? You can. Or I can do it for you.” He actually fisted his hand and posed it in front of his nose.

Peter grabbed his hand and pushed it down, careful not to grip too tight and hurt him. “It’s fine,” he said. “I should have been more careful when I told you. It’s big news, I guess. I’d have probably reacted the same.”

“Big news? Dude, it’s huge news. This is the coolest thing to happen to either of us since… No, it’s the coolest thing to happen to us ever! I can’t believe it. What’s it like? What’s he like? What do you do?”

Peter grinned and kept his voice low. “I've been going twice a week for a month, so we've done all kinds of things. He showed me the War Machine armor he's working on, and we looked at his Mark XLVI last week. He says he's hoping to work with something called nanites, so he can create a suit that would live in housing until he needed it, then it'd spread over him like bleeding armor. It's the coolest thing I ever saw."

“Wow,” Ned breathed. “This is crazy. All that because of my Grams’ bad leg”

 “Yeah, he said he saw something in what I made, and then, well, I guess he hacked the school records. I…” He shrugged. “I wanted to tell you, but I wasn’t sure how long it would last. He’s like Tony Stark, and I’m just Peter. I kept waiting for him to change his mind. And he probably will. He knows people way smarter than me. He’s got all these graduate students for interns.”

Ned frowned. “Yeah, that’s true, but you’re a genius, too, Peter. He obviously sees something special in you.”

“Maybe,” Peter conceded.

That was the crazy part—Peter thought Ned might be right. He wasn’t sure it was possible Tony saw something in him, but he seemed to genuinely enjoy being with him. Tony was happy when he was around, always telling Peter how brilliant he was.

Peter didn’t understand it, because he was smart, yeah, but Tony Stark was the genius. He made the most amazing things, had freed himself from captivity with a suit he built in a cave from scraps.

Peter had none of those achievements. All that made him different from any other smart kid in his school was Spider-Man, but no one knew about that—not even Tony, though Peter was starting to think he should tell him. Tony didn't seem to hold anything back from him, and Peter was hiding something huge. But he was a little nervous about it. Spider-Man was small fry compared to Iron Man; he might think Spider-Man was silly.

Though, somehow, Peter didn't think so, not deep down. He thought Tony might actually be pleased to know.

Something else that held him back was that he thought Tony was pretty stressed, maybe with The Accords thing. On the second weekend he went to the Tower, Tony had seemed upset. Peter had seen it at once, and he’d offered to go home, but that seemed to make him even more upset. He’d gradually cheered up over the course of the day. In a way, Peter had felt he’d helped, being there, and that had felt good. 

He would tell him one day, he was sure, but not yet. There was already so much else happening that he was loving. He would find the right time some other day. 

xXx

Tony paced up and down the lab, anxious energy rushing through him. Peter was due, Happy left to pick him up an hour ago, and he was eager for his arrival.

He always was.

In the weeks since The Ancient One had dropped the bomb of truth—or her truth, at least—on them, Tony had been struggling. He knew he'd slipped up the first time he saw Peter and made him uncomfortable. Peter had actually offered to go home.

Tony had almost reached for him then, to hold him and ask him to never leave. He'd barely controlled himself. It was hard, though, to see Peter as he was, fourteen, alive, happy, free, and to know he might only have two years left of life to live.

Though he was determined to make the outcome the single good one among millions of bad, to save his son, he couldn’t deny he despaired sometimes. To face the loss of your own child was hellish. It was so much worse this time than it had been before, when Peter turned to ash in his hands, because he loved him so much more now, impossibly more. Peter was a part of him the same way Pepper and Morgan were.

Tony was the one that was supposed to have the blessing of being the one that died first, to not have to live without either of his children. That was the natural order of things. Now, they were fighting against overwhelming odds to make Peter the person he was before when there was someone out there working to do the opposite.

“Boss, Peter is just passing through security in the lobby,” Friday announced.

Tony released a deep breath of relief that the anticipation was over, Peter was on his way. He raked a hand over his face, checked his reflection in the glass wall, saw that he looked a little wired still, so he went to the counter to fix himself a smoothie. If Peter came in and saw him doing something so ordinary and relaxed, he would think Tony was totally cool about this whole thing.

At least he hoped he would.

He was pouring the carrot juice over the spinach and kale when the door beeped open, and Peter's cheery voice said, "Hey, Mr. Stark."

Tony took a breath, centered himself, then turned and said, “Peter, good to see you. How was the ride in?”

Peter dropped his bag onto the chair and hung up his hoodie, revealing a t-shirt with Yoda on the front beneath. “It was fine for me, but I think Happy would be pleased if I started riding in on the subway. There was a lot of horn blasting on the Boulevard, and he got angry that someone tried to overtake him on the Triborough.”

Tony chuckled. “Yeah, for someone that started out as my driver and bodyguard, he’s not got a great temper on the road. It’s why I mostly ended up driving myself.”

Well, that and the fact he had a perfectly rational fear of car accidents, which was born from his parents' deaths. At least it came from what he had believed was his parents' deaths. It had not been a car accident, it had been murder, but that was Hydra's fault, not Bucky's. He saw that now and had for a while. He'd long since forgiven Bucky for what he'd been forced to do.

"I should get the subway in the future," Peter said, making his way over to the counter and tugging anxiously on the hem of his shirt. "I really don't mind. I know Happy isn’t supposed to be a driver anymore—he’s told me a bunch of times.”

“He shouldn’t have,” Tony said, a bite to his voice. “I’ll talk to him.”

“I really don’t—” Peter cut off as Tony held up a hand.

“I don’t want you riding the subway, Peter. All kinds of creeps are on there. Don’t tell me you’ve never met a licker.”

Peter frowned. “A licker?”

"Yeah. One time I used the subway—and I mean one time, and that was only because I lost my wallet and couldn't afford a cab with the change in my pocket—a man licked the back of my neck. Most disgusting thing to ever happen to me."

Peter’s eyes widened, his jaw working as if he was chewing something, and then Tony realized he was trying not to laugh. He’d not heard Peter laugh since he came back, not the full belly laughs he was used to, and he shook his head and chuckled.

It seemed to be the permission Peter needed to let loose, and he clutched his stomach as he howled with laughter. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’m sorry…” he said haltingly. “It’s just… you’re Tony Stark… and they… they licked you!”

“I know, I was there,” Tony said, laughing with him.

Peter's laughter slowed and became occasional chuckles. He wiped at his eyes, rubbing his stomach, and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I shouldn't have laughed. But I ride the subway to school every day, and no one has ever even tried to lick me. The worst thing that happened was that someone tried to steal my wallet, but I—” He stopped dead, shook his head, and said, “But he changed his mind.”

Tony was sure there was a Spider-Man story there; somehow, Peter had used his enhancements to get his wallet back or perhaps prevented it from being taken at all. Peter wasn't going to tell him, though.

Peter hadn’t ever mentioned anything even close to admitting he was Spider-Man. Tony was waiting for it every day they were together, though. He knew that when Peter chose to tell him, it would be a sign of trust between them—he was waiting impatiently for that moment, the first sign of their bond coming.

He didn’t want to tell him he already knew. If nothing else, it might make Peter think he was only interested in him as the superhero and not as the person. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Peter was who he loved. Spider-Man was just an aspect of him.

"Lickers or no, you're not riding the subway here," Tony said. "I'll talk to Hap. We'll work it out. Now, I'm going to fix us both a smoothie, and then we can get to work."

Peter gave the contents of the blender a dubious look, just as he had the first time Tony had made him one. He liked it, though—or would. Peter liked most things, not at all a picky eater. He had his favorites, though, and spinach, kale, and carrot smoothies were one of them.

He started the blender and watched as the ingredients swirled. When they were smooth, he poured it into two glasses, dropped in straws, and handed one to Peter. “Try it,” he instructed. “You’ll be surprised.”

Still looking dubious, Peter put the straw in his mouth and sucked. Tony watched the play of emotions pass over his face: doubt, surprise, and then pleasure. He sucked down a third of the glass, while Tony sipped his own, and then gasped and said, "Man, that was so good, Mr. Stark. Who knew vegetables could taste like that?”

"It's the carrot juice that makes it so good," Tony said. "That stuff is addictive.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, I bet.” He took another sip then said, “So, what do you need me to do today?”

Tony carried his drink to the bench and pulled up a hologram. “I’d like your thoughts on this,” he said, tapping the hologram and expanding the image. “It’s an upgrade for Rhodey’s suit.”

“Mr. Stark, I know nothing about this stuff,” Peter said awkwardly. “Really. If you tried using my ideas, Colonel Rhodes might end up dropping out of the sky.”

Tony winced. He knew all too well what that would look like. The day it should have happened had come and gone, wholly avoided. "I won't do anything I don't agree with, and we'll run all the tests, but I'd like your thoughts. Really, kid," he nudged Peter’s shoulder with a fist, "tell me what's going on in that head of yours."

Peter hesitated a moment and then moved closer to the hologram and began to twist and turn it, examining the suit from every angle. He bit his lip, cleared his throat, and said, “Well, have you thought about maybe…”

Tony listened as he extolled on his idea, wondering if there was a way to make it work, while inwardly feeling a rush of pride and fondness for his son.

He really was brilliant.  

Chapter Text

20. Steve’s Visit

Steve felt more than a little guilty as he moved through the lobby of Avengers Tower, swiping the key card which Tony said was necessary to appease Happy’s devotion to security. He waved at the reception desk, where three pairs of wide, awed eyes followed him, then went straight to the private elevator and was greeted by Friday when he stepped inside.

“Where’s Tony, Friday?” he asked.

“He’s in the lab with Peter,” she reported. “But they’re planning to get lunch soon.”

“Perfect,” Steve said with a smile.

Tony would not be happy he was here, which was where Steve's guilt came from, but he'd waited long enough to see Peter for himself. Bucky had seen him, sneaking into Queens, for which Steve had lectured him on safety and security, receiving a stubborn set jaw and growled, “I needed to see Peter,” in return. Rhodey had seen him twice, and he didn’t even know who Peter really was yet. It was Steve’s turn.

He would have come sooner, but he knew Tony needed some time with Peter alone before he was forced to share. Tony had been hit hard by what the Ancient One said; they all had, but Tony was the one that seemed to buckle under the news. That was getting better now, though. They were all committed to their plan, to Mind and Peter's plan, to support him and guide him to become the person that was decreed worthy by The Stones. They were searching for Zemo and Josef, and when they found them, they would stop them. They were doing everything they could to create the future they all needed. 

The doors slid open into Tony’s penthouse, and he went to the couch, sat down, and looked around. He wanted to appear casual, like this was a visit which just happened to fall on the same day as Peter’s time here. Tony would see through it in a second, of course, and he’d be pissed, but Peter would hopefully believe it was pure chance.

Steve flipped on the TV to a news channel, but it was playing an analysis report of The Accords and the meeting between The Avengers and a select group of representatives of the United Nations on Monday.

Steve turned the TV off again, not wanting to be reminded of that, and leaned forwards to pick up a magazine. It was one of Pepper’s though, full of fashion and women’s health, so that was discarded, too. There was a copy of the New York Times under the magazine, which he thought would do, so he picked that up and turned to the second page. His eyes were not following the printed words, but he thought he presented a suitably relaxed and innocent pose for Peter.

He waited, eyes glancing at his watch occasionally, until ten minutes had passed, and he heard the hum of the elevator. He kept his eyes on the newspaper, resisting the urge to stare, until the doors opened with a ding and voices reached him.

“…because that would be so cool, Mr. Stark. I know Mrs. Leeds would really appreciate it. She’s doing great with what I made, but if we can improve it, that would be— Oh.”

Steve looked up and saw Peter standing just outside the elevator, eyes wide and mouth open. Steve guessed it was his appearance that had stunned him. He remembered, with a pang, the last time he’d caught Peter off guard—when he’d been thrown through a glass door for upsetting Tony.

That tension hadn't lasted long, Peter had soon come around, and Steve had become close to him quickly. However, he remembered it clearly, how it had felt to be so out of depth with the power of the kid he didn't know and had not yet learned to trust. Another memory followed, Peter in his bedroom at the compound, unconscious on the floor, body trashed and weak, and he had to swallow down the lump in his throat and paste on a smile.

“Hey,” he said, setting down the newspaper and rising to his feet. “You must be Peter.”

Peter’s head bobbed with a nod. “Uh, yes, Mr… I mean Captain America, sir.”

“Just Steve is fine,” he said.

Peter licked his lips and nodded again.

“Steve,” Tony said through his teeth. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

"I wanted to check in," Steve lied. "We've got that Accords meeting Monday, and I thought we could go over talking points.”

Tony's eyes narrowed, seeing the lie and angry at his presence. Steve felt another pang of guilt, but it was quickly banished by the pleasure of seeing Peter there.

“No can do,” Tony said, his words mild but tone harsh, placing a proprietary hand on Peter’s shoulder and making the kid glance at him and frown. “It’s Peter’s day in the lab. I’ll come to the compound tomorrow so we can talk. You don’t need to stay.”

Peter’s frown deepened, and he looked between Steve and Tony as if following a tennis match.

“I’d like to, though,” Steve said. “I’ve heard a lot about Peter, and I’d like to get to know him.”

Peter's mouth dropped open, and his eyes bugged again. Steve wondered if he was overdoing it or if any reaction from him about Peter would shock him this much. It was different last time. Peter had still been awed by them all, but he'd also shared a battlefield already, saved their lives, so there was less pressure on him, perhaps.

“You hungry, Peter?” Steve asked.

Peter snapped his mouth shut, nodded, and said, “Uh… yeah. We were stopping for lunch.”

Tony stared at Steve a moment, eyes narrowed, and then he seemed to accept he wasn’t getting out of this—Steve was here, and he was sticking around, so he might as well get through it. He nodded and forced a smile.

“I’ll fix you something,” Steve said. “What would you like?”

“No!” Peter said loudly and then winced. “I mean, you don’t need to make anything for me. I can do it for you.”

“Wise choice,” Tony said with a smirk. “Cap’s got lots of skills, but anything in the kitchen is out of his range of abilities. He’s a disaster. I wouldn’t even trust a sandwich from him.”

Peter gave a short laugh and said, “My aunt’s like that. She either burns everything or serves it bloody.”

Steve nodded, remembering Peter telling him that before, and remembering Bucky and Sam teaching him to cook. 

“How about you?” Steve asked. “You much of a chef?”

Peter laughed. “No, not even a little. I can manage sandwiches, though.”

Tony steered Peter into the kitchen, hand still on his shoulder, and opened the fridge. “What are you in the mood for, Peter?” he asked. “We’ve got all kinds of cold cuts for sandwiches, and I remembered what you said about pickles, so I stocked up on them.”

“You didn't need to do that for me," Peter said.

“Billionaire, kid,” Tony said. “I can afford a jar of pickles for you to make your gross sandwiches.”

Peter grinned. "They're not gross, Mr. Stark. One day I'll bring you a sandwich from Mr. Delmar, and you'll understand."

Steve smiled as he remembered Peter's raving about the fantastic sandwiches he bought at the bodega near his apartment. He'd always said he'd get some for them all one day, but he'd never gotten around to it. Maybe that was something they could do now. He liked the idea of The Avengers heading into Queens to share Peter's favorite lunch spot.

“Grab whatever you want and get fixing,” Tony said, picking up a bag of sub rolls and putting them on the counter.

Steve leaned against the counter island as Peter grabbed packages from the fridge and set them down. He still seemed a little nervous about what he was doing, helping himself to food in Tony Stark’s penthouse, but he was doing it, which was good for Tony to see.

Steve knew Tony was desperate for Peter to start relaxing around him and be comfortable as he was in the future, but he accepted that would take time. That was something they were all going to struggle with over time. He wanted the kid that called him Brooklyn and whose eyes smiled when he saw him. He would aim for being called Steve, though, and give him time for everything else.

Wanting one thing from his future, though, he asked, “Where are you from, Peter?”

Peter looked up from the package of sliced Swiss cheese he was holding and said, "Well, I moved around a lot with my parents when I was young, but my aunt and uncle took me in after my parents died, and they lived in Queens. That's home, really."

“Queens,” Steve said with a nod. “Good moniker. I’m from Brooklyn.”

“Yeah, I, uh, know,” Peter said awkwardly. “We learned about you in school, and my uncle took me to the Smithsonian to see the exhibit on you and the Howling Commandos a few years ago.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah? Did you see the before and after pictures?”

"Yeah, they were kinda crazy."

Tony shot Steve a wink, seeming to be over his annoyance, and said, “So, you saw how scrawny Steve was.”

Peter averted his eyes. “Yeah, it was a, uh, big change.”

“It was,” Steve agreed. “And you know the craziest thing about it, more than the fact I suddenly gained 150 pounds of muscle?”

Peter shook his head.

“I also gained seven inches of height. That was hard to get used to.”

“Yeah, I guess that’d be weird. I had…” Peter bit his lip. “I can see that’d be hard.”

Steve thought he was going to say something different, perhaps a mention of how he could understand sudden physical changes, as he’d gone through them himself after the bite. He aborted the sentence, though, and began to assemble the ingredients for their sandwiches on the counter.

Steve knew Tony was waiting for Peter to come clean about Spider-Man. He wasn't sure why he hadn't already, since surely getting support on his actions from Iron Man would be good. For whatever reason, Peter was still playing it close to the chest.

"What would you like in your sandwich, Mr… uh… Steve?" Peter asked.

“Whatever you’re making for yourself,” Steve replied. “I’m not fussy. Growing up in the Depression means you have to get used to eating whatever’s put in front of you.”

“Okay. Great.”

Peter took a knife from the block and sliced two subs, spread them, and began laying over a selection of meats. Steve saw salami, ham, chicken breast, and pastrami be topped by Emmental. He began to wonder just what this sandwich was going to taste like. It was definitely an interesting combination to have. Peter sliced pickles, laid them over the cheese, then closed the rolls, squashed them down flatter than seemed necessary, and plated them.

“Uh… here you go,” he said a little anxiously. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it. I can make you something else. May says my tastebuds come from the Parker side of the family, which I think means they’re weird.”

Steve chuckled and took the sandwich. “I’m sure it’s great.”

“You want a coffee, Steve?” Tony asked.

“No, I’ll take a soda, though,” Steve said. “You want one, Queens?”

Peter stared a moment, heat flushing his face, and then he smiled and said, “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, Steve.”

Pleased at the use of his name without a stammer or hesitation, Steve smiled to himself and grabbed two cokes from the fridge. He set them down on the counter island and then took a seat, pulling his sandwich towards him. Peter perched beside him and shot him a small smile.

Tony grabbed his own, far simpler sandwich and joined them, and said, “Dig in, kid. I can hear your stomach growling.”

Peter blushed again but took a bite of his sandwich and gave Steve a look that was filled with nervous anticipation.

Understanding what Peter needed, Steve picked up his sandwich and took a large bite. His eyes widened, and he huffed a laugh around his mouthful. It was good. No, it was better than good. It was amazing.

How had Peter never made this for him before?

He realized as soon as the question occurred that it was because Bucky and Sam claimed the kitchen, and Peter only went there for snacks and his cooking lessons. When he got back, when they'd worked it all out and saved Peter, Steve was going to encourage Peter to make these sandwiches for them all.

He chewed quickly and swallowed, then said, "Queens, this is amazing!"

Peter looked extraordinarily pleased and said, "They’re my favorite."

“Seriously, Tony, you’ve got to try it,” Steve said, pushing his plate towards him.

Tony grimaced and pushed it back. “No, thanks. You’re a great kid, Peter, with many good qualities, but I am not eating pickles.”

“You’re missing out,” Steve said, and Peter nodded seriously.

For a while, the only sounds were their chewing and the clink of Steve and Peter's cans of coke being set down and Tony's mug. Steve relished the rest of his sandwich, already thinking about how he was going to tell Bucky all about it when he got back to the compound.

Bucky was locked down on the compound for now because they all knew the temptation of being in the city meant he would soon be in Queens. As much as they understood his desire to see Peter, and some of them shared it, Bucky getting arrested was too big a risk with things the way they were. As much sympathy as Steve and Tony had for him, they prioritized Bucky being a free man over his need to see Peter.

When Steve had eaten the last bite of his sandwich, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and balled it up. “Well, Queens, that was the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” he said seriously. “And being friends with Tony means you eat in some real fancy places.”

Tony shot him an incredulous look, but Steve nodded. It really was that good. Perhaps his opinion was influenced by the fact it was Peter that had made it for him; perhaps it was the combination of ingredients; whatever it was, Steve was asking him to make that again soon.

“It’s the pickles,” Peter said with the solemnity of someone passing on profound knowledge. “They make everything better.”

“Must be,” Steve said. “So, what have you and Tony spent the morning doing?”

Peter visibly brightened. "We looked at War Machine's armor, and we're working on an upgrade for that, which was awesome, but Mr. Stark said I can bring the powered exoskeleton leg brace I made for my best friend's grandmother and work on that next time. I did my best with what we had at school, but with Mr. Stark’s tools and materials, I can make it so much better.”

“Sounds great,” Steve said.

“It really is,” Tony said. “What he made was brilliant, and it’s incredible that it was done in a high school workshop. Seriously, Steve, the kid’s a genius.”

“Yeah, you said,” Steve agreed.

Peter blushed again and looked down at his lap. Even in the future, when Tony was his father, Peter didn’t accept praise easily. Perhaps it was part of what made him Worthy, that humbleness. Steve appreciated that it was part of Peter's character, but he wished he would listen to what they said when they praised him because they all meant every single word of it.

“What do you like to do when you’re not inventing this stuff?” Steve asked.

Peter bit his lip, seeming embarrassed to be called upon to talk about himself. “Oh. I… uh… like school, so homework isn’t something that gets me down like some kids. And me and my best friend play a lot of computer games at his place, since I don’t have a console. We build Lego models together, too. That sounds kinda lame, I know—”

“Not at all,” Steve said. “Those things can be tricky.”

Peter looked a little surprised that Captain America knew about Lego. Steve probably wouldn’t if not for rambling explanations from Peter in 2023.

Peter nodded, though, and went on. “They can be, yeah. We like to make the really big, intricate ones. We follow the creators in the forums to find out what they’re working on. They’ve just brought out a Death Star kit that— Do you know what the Death Star is?”

“It’s a Star Wars thing,” Steve said, a hint of pride in his voice at the knowledge.

He knew because he’d watched the movies with Peter more than once. The first time, when Peter had been locked in catatonia, was a sad memory. However, it had been replaced with movie nights in which Peter whispered the lines as if following a script right in front of him and reacted to all the twists and turns in the plot as if it was the first time he was seeing them. 

Peter nodded eagerly. "It is, yeah. They're our favorite movies. Ned is saving his allowance for the kit. When he gets it, we'll make it together. It'll take a while since it's got nearly four thousand pieces."

Steve’s eyes widened. “Really? I had no idea there’d be that many.”

“Yeah. They really are intricate. Ned's bedroom is full of the ones we've built since he refuses to take them apart once they're made. His mom goes nuts because she has to dust them, but she loves him, so…" he shrugged, "she puts up with it."

Tony downed the last of his coffee and pushed his plate away. “Well, as fun as this has been, Steve, me and Peter have got to get back to work.”

Peter started and looked a little guilty, as if he'd been keeping Tony waiting with his conversation. Steve would have to remind Tony to be careful about what he said to Peter for now. This wasn't Peter that was used to his ups and downs, his occasionally curt nature with people, and Peter was going to be sensitive. He wouldn't know Tony's curt words were directed to Steve, who had crashed their day together and not him.

“Sure, Mr. Stark,” he said. “Sorry.”

Tony raised his hand slightly, as if he was going to tousle Peter’s hair as he was apt to do, and then he dropped it and said, “No worries, kid. It was good to take a break. But we’ve got lots to do before Happy comes to pick you up.”

“I could ride the subway home,” Peter ventured.

"Nope," Tony said. "Already decided that's a bad idea. Until you can drive yourself here, you're getting chauffeur service."

Peter nodded, though he looked a little troubled, and said, “It was really nice to talk to you, Steve.”

“You too,” Steve said, patting his shoulder. “We’ll have to do it again soon.”

Peter grinned. “Yeah, definitely.”

Tony got to his feet and led Peter back to the elevator. As they entered, Steve heard him say, "You know, if Cap can be Steve, you could call me Tony."

“Uh, sure, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, and Tony groaned.

As the elevator door slid closed behind them, Steve grinned. He knew, as Peter had told him once, that he’d struggled to call Tony by his first name for the longest time as he was the one that he’d admired most of all.

Since Peter was a kid, before Iron Man even, Tony had been Peter’s hero. He wondered if Tony knew that, if Peter had ever told him. He wasn’t going to inform him if he didn’t know. He thought it would mean more to Tony if it came from Peter himself.

He carried their plates and Tony's cup to the sink, rinsed them, and stowed them in the dishwasher. As tempted as he was to stick around and see Peter again before he went home, he thought he had tested Tony's patience enough for one day.

He would come back soon, though.

Chapter Text

Peter learned his lesson about telling Ned anything big in school, so it wasn't until after school when they went to Delmar's to get a sandwich then take it to the park to eat that he told him about his day at the tower.

“And he said I can work on your grandmother’s brace in his lab, so I can really improve it.”

“Awesome,” Ned said enthusiastically. “She’ll be thrilled. You know she loves what you already made—like seriously, I think she wants to adopt you as a grandson. It'd be great if you could make it less bulky, though."

“It would,” Peter agreed. He took the last bite of his sandwich, chewed quickly, swallowed, and said, “And I met someone else at the tower, too.”

“Yeah?” Ned said interestedly, taking a bite of his sandwich and talking around the mouthful. “Who?”

“Captain America.”

Ned's eyes widened, and he made a strangled gasping sound.

Peter panicked, realizing what was happening as Ned began to rasp for air around the food lodged in his throat. He jumped to his feet and slapped Ned in the back three times. Ned grunted, coughed, and the piece of masticated sandwich flew out of his mouth and onto the ground.

“Dude,” Ned rasped.

“Sorry, sorry,” Peter said, holding his hands up. “I should have waited until you were done eating. Did I hurt you? I hit you pretty hard. I was panicking, though. I couldn’t remember what they taught us about the Heimlich in school. I should ask May for a refresher since that’s kinda an important thing to know. But, really, that’s my bad. You need a doctor?”

Ned held up a shaking hand, his eyes watering and breaths coming weak, but his first words ensured Peter had no idea if it was trauma from the choking or excitement. “You met Captain America?”

“Yeah. He came by to talk to Mr. Stark, and I made him a sandwich.”

“You made Captain America a sandwich,” Ned said weakly.” Captain America ate food you made. That’s the most insane thing. How were you even brave enough? What if you’d given him food poisoning?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “I don’t know. I didn’t think. No, Mr. Stark bought all the food I used, and he wouldn’t buy stuff that’d make someone sick. I’m sure I didn’t poison him. I’d have heard if I did. I’m sure Mr. Stark would have told me.”

Ned raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

Peter punched his shoulder, far more gently this time, and said, “Ned! I did not poison Captain America. Stop freaking me out.”

Ned frowned, then nodded and smiled. “Yeah, sorry, I lost my head. This is just huge news. It’s almost as big as you getting the internship. I mean, really. Like, what is your life now?”

“I have no idea. It’s crazy to me, too. But he was really nice. He called me Queens.”

Ned gaped and whispered. "Captain America gave you a nickname. That's like next-level cool."

"It is," Peter agreed. "And he told me to call him Steve, which is, yeah, kinda mind-boggling. Mr. Stark keeps asking me to call him Tony, too, but that's like… I don't know. It'd be like calling the President Matt."

“It really would. I can’t believe you’re calling Captain America Steve, though. Seriously?”

"Yeah." Peter balled up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it into the bin. "This whole internship is crazy. But it was also a little weird. Mr. Stark didn't seem happy that Steve was there. Like he was angry at him or something."

Ned held up his hands. “No. I don’t want to hear that. The Avengers can’t be angry with each other. It was just an off day. The Avengers are tight. Always. They're like, world-saving BFFs.”

“They are,” Peter said, nodding solemnly. “Totally just an off day. Maybe I did something wrong that put Mr. Stark in a bad mood.”

Ned rolled his eyes. "Dude, you're spiraling. I'm sure you didn't do anything wrong. You'd know if you did.  Tony Stark's not going to put up with that. Hell, if he's giving you all that time, he must like you even."

“Yeah, I guess… I mean, I think so. Maybe.”

“Do you think you’ll go there more when school breaks up?” Ned asked. “We’ve only got two more weeks.”

"I don't know. Mr. Stark probably won't even know when school ends. It's not like he's got kids to pay attention for. Besides, I've got lots of things to do over the summer. You know we'll still be having decathlon training sessions in the library to keep us sharp. We'll have a new captain in the fall who's going to want us at the top of our game."

Ned crumpled his sandwich wrapped and tossed it at the bin. It missed, and he had to get up to pick it up and put it in. “You think Liz will make captain?”

Peter felt a warmth in his stomach, the same warmth he always felt when he thought of Liz. He knew she was lightyears away from him in dating prospects: she was older, had loads of friends, and a lot of guys liked her. She was really popular. Peter couldn’t help staring when she was around, though.

“I think so. She’s really smart.”

“And beautiful?” Ned said, a gleam in his eye.

“Totally.”

Ned grinned. “Dude, you should just ask her out.”

Peter shook his head jerkily. “No. No way. Never. She’s way out of my league. I’ll just admire her from a distance.”

“You could do that, or you could be a man,” Ned said.

“I’ll be a boy a bit longer if being a man means embarrassing myself in front of Liz Toomes,” Peter said seriously.

Ned laughed. “Yeah, I get that. I probably would, too. What else are we doing this summer? You know all work and no play makes us dull boys. At least that’s what my grandma says. Obviously, my chores will be increased since I won’t be in school, but we’ll have time. And your birthday is in August. What are you doing?”

Peter shrugged. “No idea. Maybe a movie night.”

“Dude, you’re going to be fifteen! You need to step up your celebration game.”

“Maybe,” Peter said.

In truth, his birthday was a tough subject. He and May didn’t have much spare money to spend on birthdays, especially now they didn’t have Ben’s wages coming in, too. It would also be his first birthday without Ben, and Peter didn’t think they should make a big deal of it. A movie night would be fine. Ned could stay over, and they could get pizza.

Peter’s summer was stretching ahead of him, and he was looking forward to spending more time as Spider-Man. It would be good to be out there more, helping people. It made him feel like he was doing something right when he was in his suit and swinging around Queens, like he was living up to Ben’s legacy. Ben said with great power came great responsibility, and Peter had failed at that at first. He’d gotten his powers and done nothing with them. He should have. If he’d been prepared, strong enough, he could have saved Ben’s life instead of watching helplessly as he died.

There was one worry with being Spider-Man—the Accords they were always talking about on the news. Peter didn’t think they’d affect him, he wasn’t a superhero like the Avengers, but Flash had mentioned them in reference to Spider-Man once. Peter should ask Mr. Stark, but how could he do that without revealing why he was asking?

He wanted to tell Mr. Stark who he was, but it seemed too big and too small at the same time. Big, because Mr. Stark might tell him the Accords would impact him and he should stop; small, because what was Spider-Man compared to Iron Man and Captain America?

“What’s with the face?” Ned asked. “We’re talking important stuff here, summer, your birthday, Liz, and you look miserable.”

"Just thinking," Peter said evasively, and then changed the subject. "I'll need to pick up your grandma's brace on Wednesday morning since Happy will be picking me up after school. I'll get it back to her as soon as I can, though. Maybe after my Saturday session.”

“No worries,” Ned said. “I’ll tell her she’s getting an upgraded model. She’ll be happy to wait.” He patted his stomach and said, “Shall we go back to mine and play that Avengers game? We’ve still not beaten it, which is because I’m a good friend and haven’t played without you.”

“Yeah. I’ve got an hour before I need to be home.” He got to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Ned jumped up, and they headed out of the path and towards Ned's apartment. Peter was content with the afternoon ahead. He would have some fun with Ned, see May for a while, then get out and do a patrol as Spider-Man.

xXx

Tony was unexpectedly nervous on Wednesday. He'd arranged for Peter to stay for dinner to spend time with him and Pepper. He was sure Pepper was going to love him when she got to know him, and Peter had always liked Pepper in the future, but so much more weighed on it this time because he wanted it so much.

Without Pepper’s focus on Morgan—who he missed with a longing that was a physical pain in his chest—she would have a chance to get to know Peter for himself.

They’d spent a few hours in the lab with Peter working on the exoskeleton brace he’d made for his friend’s grandmother. He seemed to know what he wanted to do and how to do it, so Tony occupied himself with some work of his own on Bucky’s new arm and watching Peter out of the corner of his eye.

He liked seeing Peter independent like this. He was still occasionally awkward and nervous talking to Tony—though it was getting better with each day spent together—but when he was involved in his work, he was like a different person, he became confident and excited. Tony loved it.

When the time came around to make dinner, he called Peter away from his project and led him up to the penthouse. He'd told Pepper to be there for six, and it was a little before, but he wanted to make a start on dinner. He was also looking forward to showing Pepper what he was capable of in the kitchen.

He'd always been a disaster before. It was only when they had their own house by the lake and time to relax together that he'd learned. Pepper was in her third trimester then, and she'd been happy to take time to relax while he cooked for her.

He'd started out studying cookbooks and watching cooking shows on TV, learning as much as he could, before he'd ventured into the grocery store, stocked up on what he needed, and endeavored to make a fancy salmon mousse and chicken alfredo. The first attempt could only be called a disaster, but he'd learned from it, tried again the next day, and improved until he was great.

It wasn’t arrogance; he had the opinions of people that ate his meals backing him up. His mind had always been his most valued asset by the people in his life, only Pepper and Rhodey, and Happy, seeing anything else to value in him. He'd thought Obie valued him as a person, too, at the time, but he'd learned better.

“Okay, Pete,” he said when they got to the kitchen, slipping into the truncated nickname without conscious thought. “We’re making stir fry, so I need you to put your skills to slicing and dicing.”

“Uh… Mr. Stark, I don’t have any skills,” Peter said.

“I’ve seen you working with the most intricate tools in the lab, so I know you’ve got the dexterity. If you don’t have the skills already, now is the time to learn them. Think how good you’ll feel if you can make your aunt a delicious meal when she gets home from work one day?”

“Yeah, that’d be pretty great. My uncle was the cook in our family, but he was kinda territorial about the kitchen. It was weird as he was the most easy-going person the rest of the time. Maybe he saw that I was beyond help so just kept me out of the way.”

Tony smiled fondly. Peter had rarely spoken about his uncle before. The only time he ventured the topic was in 2023, after he'd been able to visit May and Ben in the Soul Plane. Tony wondered at the difference now, when they only had the newest developing bond. It didn’t occur to him that he was the one that was different this time. He was more open with Peter than he had been the first time around. It was far too soon to tell Peter he loved him, that he cared for him like a son, too soon by years, but he did long for that day.

He opened the fridge and began to pull out packages of vegetables and meat, placing them in Peter's hands. As the packages piled up, Peter’s eyes grew wider until, with one last bag of fresh shrimp, Tony said, “That’ll do. Put them on the counter, and I'll tell you where to start."

Peter did as he was told, then washed his hands and waited for further instructions.

“I need you to dice the chicken,” he said. “We want bitesize pieces.” He took a knife from the block, set a chopping board on the counter, and said, “Get to work.”

Peter looked a little unsure, but he picked up the knife and began to slice the chicken breast, his movements careful but a little slow.

Tony began to chop the vegetables, the knife moving swiftly and precisely. He’d not cooked for a while, so it was a nice change for him to be doing something simple and familiar.

They worked in silence for a moment, then Tony flipped on the radio, which was playing a classic rock station. Led Zeppelin filled the air, and Tony began to sing along, earning a grin from Peter.

“Oh, damn,” Peter said suddenly.

Tony's eyes darted to him, and he saw there were spots of blood on the chopping board, chicken, and knife, and Peter was grasping his right hand in his left.

“Let me see,” he said.

Peter winced and held out his hand. He'd cut through the heel of his thumb, and blood was flowing. Tony grabbed a cloth and dabbed the blood away, seeing a deep gash.

“This is going to need stitches,” he said.

Peter shook his head. "No! Really, it's fine. I can't go to a hospital because I— I mean, I hate hospitals, scared of them. Don't make me go. I'll just cover it with a bandage. It’ll heal fast.”

Tony knew it would; with Spider-Man healing, it would probably only take a day, but it needed stitches to close the wound until his enhanced healing could take over.

“You don’t have to go to a hospital,” Tony said gently, knowing it was not fear of hospitals but fear of exposure that worried him. “We’ve got a med bay here staffed by some of the best medics in the city. We set it up when the Avengers started living here, and I never stood them down, since accidents happen. They’ll still be on duty. Come on. Let’s get this fixed up.”

Looking distinctly uncomfortable, Peter allowed himself to be led to the elevator and down to the fifth floor where the med bay was.

When they entered, Tony called, “Head’s up, people. We’ve got a bleeding intern.”

One of the medics in their green scrubs appeared, and Tony gently removed the cloth from Peter’s wound. She tutted and said, “At least three stitches.”

“Really?” Peter said. “Can’t we just use butterfly bandages?”

Tony was momentarily confused, and then understanding caught up with him. If Peter had stitches, he would feel each and every one of them going in as no lidocaine they had was going to numb him for more than a minute with his metabolism burning through the drugs. 

Tony needed to rectify that, to get the drugs made, but without Bruce, that was going to be a problem. He couldn’t tell his staff that Peter was Spider-Man, as he would never want that. Perhaps T’Challa’s people could help when he got back in touch after the proof of their story had been seen—which would be soon.

“I think it’s worth a try,” he said, wanting to spare Peter the pain of stitches. “The kid says he heals fast.”

"Scared of needles?" The medic, Sofia, her ID said, asked.

Peter nodded jerkily. “Yeah, totally terrified.”

She considered, then said, "We can try them for now, but if they pull apart, you're going to need stitches?"

Peter exhaled a sigh of relief and said, “Thanks.”

Sofia led them into a bay and fetched what she needed to tend Peter’s wound. Peter sat on the chair and placed his hand on the table.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Stark,” he said. “I wasn’t paying attention. And now the chicken is all bloody and ruined.”

“It’s fine,” Tony said. “We’ll get takeout for dinner instead and try the cooking thing again some other time.”

Peter still looked guilty, but he nodded and said, “Okay. Thanks.”

Tony looked up as the door slid open behind them, expecting Sofia’s return, but it was Pepper. She looked a little harried, and her eyes moved from Peter’s bloody hand to Tony’s face and said, “Friday told me Peter was hurt. What happened?”

“Peter got his hand between the knife and the chicken,” he said.

“Oh no. Are you okay, Peter?”

“I’m fine, Miss. Potts,” he said. “It looks worse than it feels.”

Pepper moved closer to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Well, that’s not saying much as it looks pretty bad.”

Peter looked embarrassed. “Really, it’s okay.”

Tony watched Pepper interact with him, the softness of concern on her face, and he wished he had her poise. She seemed to feel no conflict touching Peter, her hand on his shoulder, yet Tony was wary of each touch. He didn't want to show how much he cared too soon as Peter wouldn't understand it, would possibly be freaked out. Pepper had no such hesitancy.

He wondered if it was his own paranoia holding him back. After all, Peter had turned him reaching for the door into a hug after their first meeting, so maybe he could relax a little. With a hand that wanted to shake, he squeezed Peter's free hand and said, "We'll get you fixed up in no time, Pete."

Peter seemed a little surprised by the sign of affection, but he didn't pull away, which gave Tony confidence. He would be careful and slow, balance what he felt with what Peter would accept, but he’d allow himself a little more contact in the future. It was his actions that were going to show Peter how he felt more than his words, and this was his son, even though he didn't know it.

Sofia bustled in and asked Tony and Pepper to give her space to work. Peter averted his eyes from his hand as she began to clean the wound, though he winced with each touch. This was not yet the Peter that was accustomed to pain, that bore the horrific burns to his hand and arm with an understated, ‘It kinda hurts.’ This was Peter before his true suffering came.

Pepper and Tony stood back, and Pepper leaned her head against Tony’s shoulder. She seemed to sense that he needed the contact, and she was delivering for him as she always did.

"So, Pete," Tony said as Sofia pinched the edges of the wound together and laid over the bandage strips, "What are you in the mood for? We've got any foods available in New York City to choose from. Italian, Thai, something a little fancier like French?”

“Uh… I’ll eat anything,” Peter said. “Whatever you and Miss. Potts want.”

“What do you think, Pep?” Tony asked.

Pepper considered Peter then said, “I think Thai sounds good. You like that, Peter?”

Peter beamed. “It’s one of my favorites.”

"Perfect," Tony said. "You think about what you want, and we'll have Friday order it for us."

Peter nodded, seeming less occupied with what was happening to his hand now, and said, “Well, I love larb…”

“Hear that, Fri?” Tony asked. “Start making a list.”

“Yes, Boss,” she said obligingly. “Whatever you say.”

xXx

Peter’s hand was wrapped in a white dressing, which Tony knew he would have to keep on long past the point he healed to keep up appearances, and their food had arrived. They were sitting around the table in the penthouse, glasses of wine in front of Tony and Pepper, and a can of coke for Peter.

“So, Peter, do you have plans for your future yet?” Pepper asked.

"Yeah, probably way too many. I mean, I'm only fourteen, but at Midtown, you're encouraged to think ahead. I'd like to do something in bioengineering."

Tony felt a small pang. If the future went in their favor, Peter lived and had possessed Stones, a career wasn’t something Peter thought he could have. Tony hated that. Peter was brilliant and could have an amazing career, but he saw himself as the universe’s protector and couldn’t see himself as that and having a future outside it. Tony couldn’t even persuade him to go back to school in 2023.

“I’d like to help people,” he went on with a shy smile. “I love what I could do for Ned’s grandma—did I tell you about that?”

“Tony told me,” Pepper said. “He was very impressed by it. So, you’d like to continue with that?”

"That maybe, or something more biology-based for medical treatments. I’ve got too many ideas to decide between.”

“Do you have a dream college?” Pepper asked.

Peter’s cheeks flushed. “Dream is the word. I don’t think I can get into where I’d ideally like to study, as places are crazy competitive.”

"You'd be a frontrunner anywhere with a mind like yours," Tony said, a touch of pride in his voice, which he did not deserve to take; he was not Peter's father yet. "And you know tuition is covered."

Peter ducked his head. “Yeah, you said.”

Something was troubling him, Tony could tell, but he didn’t know what it was. He wasn’t sure how he could find out.

“I’d like to study at Columbia if I can get in,” Peter said.

“MIT would be better,” Tony said automatically.

Peter nodded. “Yeah, MIT is amazing, but—” He bit his lip. “I’d like to stay in New York.”

Tony realized what he was saying, and he felt a small pang. Peter would want to stay in New York so he could keep acting as Spider-Man. Tony didn't like that his future was even more limited than he knew.

"New York is a great city," Tony said. "But you shouldn't let geography decide for you. The City will still be there when you finish college."

“It will be,” Pepper agreed. “From what Tony says, you’ve got an amazing future ahead of you, Peter, and you should seize every opportunity that comes along.”

“Yeah. Absolutely,” Peter said eagerly. “I will.”

Tony could see the lie in his eyes, though.

He wondered how Peter was doing in 2023, his memories changing with each event they altered. Was he happy with what he was seeing? Did he like having this chance to get to know Pepper? He must.

Tony wondered if Peter missed Morgan as much as he did. Peter hadn’t seen her either, not for even longer than Tony. He'd been gone two weeks chasing Kaecilius and had been in the hospital two weeks longer. Was what he was experiencing with these changes enough to satisfy him, or did he long for his sister?

Tony wished he could ask, and he wondered if Mind would tell him the truth if he did. Mind was the only connection they had to Peter in 2023, and he was an unknown quantity. He cared about Peter in a way that he seemed to believe was different to love, beyond it perhaps, so were the Stones taking care of him? Were they talking to him, or was he alone, just watching?

Whatever was happening, Tony hoped Peter was happy. He was most of the time. He missed his daughter, he missed his life in 2023, but he didn’t resent being here.

For Peter, he would do anything. 

xXx

That night, when Tony lay in bed with Pepper held close, her cheek resting on his chest, he asked what she thought of Peter with much anticipation of the answer.

“He’s a great kid,” she said. “I like having a chance to get to know him. I cared about him before because of what he meant to you, but now I care about him for himself, and that feels even better.”

Tony was pleased, as Pepper had not that chance in the future. She'd seen his grief at Peter's loss, carried him through it with love and the promise of Morgan, but she'd never loved Peter for Peter. 

Now she had this chance, and he was sure it was only a matter of time before she loved him, too.

With a peaceful mind, he flipped off the light and fell to sleep with her warm weight held against him.

Chapter Text

Bucky knew he should not be here, he'd been warned, and he wasn't stupid, but he'd not seen Peter for over a month, and the desire to at least check in on him was

Steve and Tony didn't understand it because they could see Peter, though they tried to sympathize. They didn’t get it, though; they didn’t have to go without him the way Bucky did.  The fact was Bucky needed to see Peter, which was why he'd waited until dark, when he was free to leave the compound to walk in the forest, before he had run to the nearest town and stolen a car.

It wasn't that hard to get away as Friday was used to his walks, so she didn't alert anyone, and Steve, Tony, and Natasha were in the city to spend a night at the tower to meet with the lawyers in the morning.

Bucky left the stolen car in a shady part of Queens then set out on foot. He hoped Peter would be patrolling that night; otherwise, the whole trip would be a waste of time. He started out near Peter's apartment and gradually walked further from the neighborhood, his ears attuned for the sound of Peter's webs slinging.

He had to walk for an hour, head ducked under his baseball cap and gloved hands tucked in his pockets, before anything happened, and then it was a motorcycle pulling onto the sidewalk, across his path, and a person climbing off.

Immediately on alert, Bucky braced himself but kept his tone polite as he said, "Excuse me," and started to walk around the motorcycle.

There was a laugh from behind the black motorcycle helmet, and the person slid off while reaching into their jacket for something.

Sensing danger, Bucky dropped his shoulder and charged the person, but before he could make contact, there was a muffled pop, and he felt a blow to his upper right arm like a punch. It immediately burned, and he felt warm blood slicking his skin.

He was momentarily stunned, and then his tactical mind took over, and he swung out with his left fist to slam into the person's gut. They dodged back and then raised the gun with its elongated muzzle, the silencer locked in place, and aimed it at Bucky’s head.

"Go into the alley, Soldier," a male voice said.

Bucky knew the voice, but he couldn't remember who it belonged to in that instant. His mind was reeling from the threat he was facing. His arm burned with pain, though that he could ignore.

Deciding his best course of action was to obey, to get them somewhere alone to out of the way, so the people on the street weren't at risk, he ducked deep into the alley, with the gun aimed at his head. His heart was racing, and Peter's face was prominent in his mind. Bucky was not scared of death, he had long ago accepted his mortality, and he knew he was destined to be alive in 2023, but he was terrified of leaving Peter behind now while he recovered from whatever this man was about to do to him.

The man crowded Bucky until he was pressed against the wall then said, “Tell me, Soldier, are you out of time, too? They thought you must be if you’re here, looking for the boy.”

Bucky shook his head, dismissing the question, and then something clicked into place in his mind, and he realized who it was he was facing.

“Zemo!” he snarled.

“Yes. They said you know me. I don’t know you. Not yet. I am going to know you very well, though. You are going to work for us. We were going to use another, but there is a perfect symmetry to using you.  They say you love the boy.”

Peter!

The name shot through Bucky’s mind like a firework, tensing every muscle and locking his breath in his lungs. It lasted a moment, a beat of time, and then he threw all caution to the wind and charged forwards. Zemo was already in motion though, he skipped back and pulled something from his jacket's inner pocket.

Having seen one before, Bucky knew what was coming when the black snub-nosed taser gun appeared, and he swung to the side to miss the dart that was fired at him, dropping his hand from his wound and swinging out a fist. He was aiming for the throat of his attacker, but Zemo ducked his head, and his knuckles struck the chin of the motorcycle helmet.

His failed attack gave Zemo time to engage another dart, and as it pierced his chest, above his heart, he cursed inwardly at his oversight.

He was Sargent James Barnes, a Howling Commando, he was a trained assassin, and yet he was making stupid mistakes. Perhaps it was because he didn’t want to kill; perhaps it was because Peter’s voice was too loud in his mind, his belief in protecting life; whatever the reason, as the electric current shot through him, he knew it was his own fault.

He dropped to his knees in the dirty ground, his nose close to the wheel of a dumpster, and his heart raced as the current surged through him. He was defeated and knew he would be destroyed if he did not overcome this and fight back, but a new horror was waiting for him.

The black sheen of the motorcycle helmet visor came close to his head as the current swept through him, and Zemo's voice, accented and cold, whispered. "Желание. Ржавый. Семнадцать. Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный. Возвращение на родину. Один."

Even though his horror and his determination to fight back was strong, Bucky felt each word digging into his mind, wiping away his free will.  As the shocks finally stopped, he battled within his own mind to strike.

With a searing pain in his wounded upper arm, with his muscles still contracting from the shock, he snatched the gun from Zemo’s hand and turned it. Without a moment’s hesitation, he shot him blindly in the gut. Zemo staggered back, hand coming to the wound, and with his rasping, pained breath, he spat, “Грузовой вагон.”

The final word of compulsion wiped away all else, all will Bucky had of his own, and he straightened up, not feeling the pain of his wound or aftershocks of the taser. He was under Zemo’s control completely.

He watched as Zemo straightened up, a hand clutched to his wounded stomach, his breaths coming fast and pained. “Will you comply?”

“I will comply,” Bucky said dully.

Zemo nodded, then groaned. "You will return to The Avengers. You will watch and listen. You will tell us what they are doing and planning. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

Zemo took a small flip-phone from his pocket and slapped it into Bucky’s hand, “We will call you for reports. Do not tell anyone what happened. Your wounds came from a mugging. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Bucky said.

Zemo nodded and then staggered away. With what looked like a great deal of effort and pain, he swung his leg over the motorcycle, gunned the engine, and sped away.

Bucky watched him go, his heart beating placidly in his chest, and his grip relaxed as he tucked the phone away in his pocket. He could feel the burn of the wound in his upper arm, but the pain wasn't troubling him. To The Winter Soldier, pain was nothing, and that was who he had become again. 

He flexed his arm, feeling the blood soaking his jacket, and started walking. He reached the lip of the alley and then stopped and looked up as he heard a strange thwip sound. His eyes moved up, and he saw a figure in red and blue clinging to the side of the building on the right. The face was covered by a mask with strange goggles for eyes.

"Hey!" a cheerful voice said, and the figure dropped from the wall and landed in front of him. "You're my taser buddy, right? Are you— Oh, wow! You're bleeding."

Bucky's eyes followed the figure as they approached and pulled the torn fabric of Bucky's sleeve back to reveal the wound on his upper arm.

"Wow. That's really bad. You need to go to the hospital. Can you walk, or shall I call an ambulance?"

"No ambulance," Bucky said, tone inflectionless. "I don't need help."

"You probably don't realize it, but you really do. You've lost a lot of blood. It's probably the adrenaline blocking you from feeling how bad it is, but… Really, Mister, it's not good. I've got to staunch the bleeding with something."

Bucky stared at the figure with a voice so young and yet so familiar. It danced around Bucky's mind, teasing the corners with a feeling of fondness, which was out of place with the bland neutrality of the Winter Soldier. The man—or was he a boy—tugged the glove from Bucky's hand, revealing the metal fingers. He didn't seem to notice at first what he was seeing, bundling the wool and pressing it to the wound on his upper arm, and then his eyes darted back to the glint of metal, and he gulped.

"Oh. I see. Wow. You're the… uh… damn…"

Bucky stiffened. He should kill him now, he knew. He wanted to. This kid was a threat to him and his mission. 

"Bucky," he said without thought.  "My name is Bucky."

"Yeah? Great. I'm Spider-Man."

Spider-Man…

The name whispered in Bucky's mind, creating a strange sense of displacement. The two sides of himself rubbed against each other—Bucky Barnes versus the Winter Soldier. The boy—and he was just a boy, he knew that now—was creating the paradox. For a moment, the Winter Soldier triumphed, wanting to kill the boy, but Bucky Barnes was stronger, his true self, and he was the one that felt the surge of horror at what he could have done.

He took a step back, away from Peter, his heart racing as his wound burned with pain. "Thank you for your help," he said, replacing Peter's hand with his own, pressing the wadded glove to the wound. "I can take it from here."

Peter shifted from foot to foot anxiously, and then he said, "I'm really sorry—at least I think I am—but I can't let you go."

He snapped out a foot, catching Bucky in the gut, and sending him flying back into the wall. With a spurt of web from each wrist, he stuck Bucky's hands to the bricks. 

Bucky grunted with pain and said, "Look, bud, I know why you think you should do this, but I'm not what you think I am. I'm not going to hurt anyone."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I want to believe that, since you were helping when taser guy showed up, and I read stuff about you after Black Widow dumped all the Hydra files online, but how do I know you're not dangerous now? I can't just let you go."

"Please, kid. You've got to let me go."

"I can't," Peter said, sounding genuinely regretful. "I have to… I've got to think. I can't call the cops since they're useless against someone like, well, you. Mr. Stark? Yeah. It's got to be him. I'll—"

He cut off, and his head snapped left. Bucky heard what had drawn his attention, too— racing footsteps and voices talking. He knew the voices, and he felt a wave of relief as he realized who was coming.

Peter backed away, and his head whipped between Bucky and the mouth of the alley as Steve, Natasha, and Tony appeared. Steve rushed forward, then stopped, taking in Bucky webbed to the wall and Peter standing with his fingers poised over the triggers to his web-shooters.

Steve held up his hands and said, "Okay, kid, we can take it from here.

Peter tilted his head to the side, his eyeline falling on Tony, who looked pained. Bucky sensed Peter was struggling not to talk, perhaps torn between keeping his identity secret and telling them what happened.

Tony gave Peter a small smile and said, "We've got it. He's safe."

"He's bleeding," Natasha said, eyes raking over Bucky's wet sleeve.

Steve cursed and rushed to Bucky, pressing down hard on the wound, making Bucky hiss between his teeth.

"We've got him, kid," Tony said. "You should go." When Peter failed to move, Tony held up his hands and said, "You can trust us."

Peter shifted from foot to foot and then nodded. He scaled the wall in swift movements and then disappeared onto the roof. Bucky heard his footsteps across the roof, then the thwip of a web being shot out.

When the sounds of Peter's retreat faded, he said, "He's gone."

Natasha nodded and pulled a knife from her boot and cut away the webs. Bucky favored his injured arm and winced as the pain burned and his head swam. He'd lost a lot of blood. More pressing than that thought was what had happened, though, and he fixed his eyes on Steve, seeing the horror when he said, "Zemo was here…" He licked his lips. "He used the words. I'm still programmed."

Steve jerked visibly as if shocked the way Bucky had been. "You were programmed again?"

Bucky nodded. "Peter broke the hold, but it was close. I could have…" He closed his eyes. "I could have killed him."

There was a rough curse, footsteps, and then Tony's fist slammed into Bucky's jaw. Bucky's head rocked to the side, more shocked than harmed, and then he met Tony's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, voice wrecked.

 "You could have killed my son," Tony snarled.

"I know.”

Tony answered through gritted teeth. "You shouldn't have come here."

Bucky bowed his head. "I know."

"Get him back to the tower, take the car, and fix him up," Tony growled. "Do it yourselves. I'm not having more of my staff hiding who he is from the authorities, not after this."

"What are you going to do?" Natasha asked, tone neutral.

"I'm walking home," Tony said. "Then I'm going to call my kid and make sure he's okay, since he's now hiding what he knows from the authorities, too." He pointed an accusing finger at Bucky and said, "Thanks to you, my kid's keeping an even bigger secret than before. You have screwed him over, Barnes, because you were being a selfish asshole."

Bucky winced. As harsh as the words were, it was the return to the use of his last name that hurt more. More painful than that, though, was the horror of what he had almost done.

Because of his selfish need to see Peter, his stupidity, he could have hurt him.

Chapter Text

“Okay, Bucky, I’m going in,” Natasha said, dipping the forceps towards the wound.

Bucky gritted his teeth and looked away. Steve placed his hand on Bucky's back, both comfort and support. He knew himself how much a bullet hurt when it was being pulled out, as Natasha had done it for him more than once during their days as outlaws, when they were without access to med-teams and hospitals and got hurt on their missions.

Bucky didn't lean against him, though, not even when the forceps were digging into his flesh. Steve knew he was in pain, he could see it in his eyes, but he wasn’t allowing it to show. Steve wasn’t sure if that was because he was determined to be strong, to take the pain, or if it was because his internal torment was more overwhelming.

Steve knew Bucky was torn up by what had happened—what had almost happened. Steve was horrified by the thought of it, too. Peter would have survived, no matter what the Winter Soldier had done to him when he was dominant over Bucky, but he could have suffered. None of them wanted to hurt Peter, they loved him and wanted to protect him from any pain that might come, but they had the least chance of being the ones to injure Peter compared to Bucky.

Steve knew his friend was in hell.

When Friday had alerted them to the fact Bucky had been caught on a Queens traffic camera, Steve had been shocked. He understood Bucky wanted to see Peter, but he was risking being locked up on The Raft if someone else saw him. He’d shared Tony’s anger as they drove to Queens to pick him up, and he’d prepared a lecture to impress upon Bucky just how stupid he was being. He couldn’t have imagined what they would find when they got there, though.

There was a scrape of metal, a quick breath from Bucky, and then Natasha was plucking out the bullet and raising it to her eyes. “Custom nine mil,” she said. “No rifling.”

Bucky shook his head. “He had a silencer on it. The intent wasn’t to kill—he just wanted to incapacitate me. He used a taser second.”

“How do you think he found you?” Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged. “Same way you did, maybe. He knew who I was, even with the disguise.”

“Disguise?” Natasha scoffed. “Bucky, a baseball cap and pair of gloves is not a disguise in New York City. What were you thinking?”

“Nat,” Steve said, voice soft; he thought Bucky was already torn up about what happened without her adding to it.

“No, it’s a fair question,” Bucky said, tugging his t-shirt sleeve down over the dressing she’d just applied and sliding off the cot. He walked back and forth a moment, brow deeply furrowed, and then stopped and said, “I had to see Peter. I can’t explain it to you, Nat, since you don’t feel the same way about him that we do, but it’s more than a want—it’s a need, this drive to make sure he’s okay.”

“I get that, but it was still stupid.”

Bucky nodded. “It was. Even without what happened, going there was a mistake.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I won’t be making the same mistake again. I can’t. I could have…” He winced. “It was so close.”

“You didn’t hurt him, though,” Steve reminded him. “He’s fine.”

“No,” a rough voice said from the doorway. “He’s confused and now keeping a huge secret since he knows The Winter Soldier is back in the US.”

Steve turned to see Tony standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes blazing with anger.

“Have you spoken to him?” Natasha asked.

Tony softened the smallest amount. "Yeah. I told him I had business in Queens, and it made me want to check in with him. I've arranged an extra lab session for tomorrow afternoon. He sounded a little wired, which makes sense, but he didn't offer up anything about Spider-Man. I told him that we’ve got a situation we’re dealing with, a friend that we’re protecting who’s in a tough spot.” He narrowed his eyes. “He has no idea how close he came to dying tonight if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Tony, I…” Bucky started, then stopped and bowed his head.

“Are you going to say you’re sorry? Because I don’t want to hear it. You almost killed my son, Barnes.

“Bucky wouldn’t have killed him,” Steve said, knowing it without a doubt. “He’d never hurt him.”

“No?” Tony asked. “So I imagined him telling us he almost did?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “He wouldn’t hurt Queens. You know how much he loves him.”

“Yeah? Last I checked, he loved you, too, but I seem to remember a romp through DC in which he tried to kill you a few times.”

“And then he saved me,” Steve said. “And that was when he was under Hydra’s control. He broke out of it a lot faster with Queens than he did with me. Bucky cannot hurt him, and you know it.”

Tony glared at Steve, eyes dark with anger, and then he turned to Bucky and said, “You know you can’t see him again, right?”

Bucky nodded and muttered, “Yeah, I know.”

“We’ve got to get the programming out,” Natasha said. “We all messed up on that. We assumed it was gone because it was gone in 2023, but it’s obviously not in him the way we thought. It’s something to do with brain chemistry, not something connected to his soul or consciousness.”

“BARF,” Steve said. “You’ve got it here, right?”

“I have,” Tony said. “But I’m not confident that will be enough.”

“It was for Peter,” Natasha said, frowning. “Bruce told me.”

“Yeah, but we had The Stones backing us up then. They could tell us the programming was gone. We don’t have that with Bucky.” Tony crossed his arms over his chest again, jaw set. “I think you’d be better going back to Wakanda to have it wiped.”

Bucky visibly flinched, but he didn't speak.

Steve felt heat rise in his cheeks as his anger peaked. “No, Tony! You know what going to Wakanda means—Thuri. You can’t send Bucky to him and expect him not to kill him after what he did to Peter.”

“He’ll have to control himself,” Tony said implacably.

“Thuri is the man that programmed Peter,” Natasha said. “The one Bucky killed when you rescued him from The Raft?”

“Yes,” Steve said. “He tortured Peter for weeks.”

Natasha fixed shrewd eyes on Tony. “Is this about you wanting revenge for what could have happened, or do you really think BARF won’t be enough?”

Tony glared back at her. “It’s about being safe.”

“No,” Steve said. “This is about revenge. Bucky is not going to Thuri for this. We will use BARF.”

Tony shrugged. “Fine, but you’re not going near my kid again.”

“I know,” Bucky said. “But we’ve got other problems than just the programming now, and we’ve got a bigger asset. Zemo wanted me to spy on you all, to pass back what you were saying and planning.” He pulled a phone out of his pocket and said, “He gave me this.”

“Zemo,” Tony said, some of his fury seeming to be leaving him as the tactical advantage of what occurred dawned on him. “He must have got the words from Karpov. Hell, he could have programmed Josef, too. He's got to be with Ego.”

“I think he is,” Bucky said. “He was referring to a ‘they,’ which I think is Nemesis. He said they thought I was back, too, because they saw me in Queens. I shot him, but it’s probably not fatal. He took off, and I’m guessing he went to get help.”

“This is good,” Natasha said. “We’ve got an advantage here. We know they want access to what we’re doing and that they’re willing to use Bucky for it. We can use that against them. Keep Bucky on their side, make them think he’s programmed still, and he can feed back what we want them to think.”

“You think we can trick Nemesis?” Tony asked.

“I think we’ve got a chance,” Natasha said. “Right now, we’ve got the loose plan of supporting Peter and making him the right person to snap. We don’t know how to do that, and we don’t know what Nemesis is going to be sending after him to push him in the other direction. We don't know what they plan to use Josef for or even where he is. We've not tracked him at all. And Zemo was in Queens without us picking him up on any surveillance."

“He was wearing a motorcycle helmet,” Bucky said.

Natasha nodded. “That explains that then. But this is good. If we can get inside information on their plan, we’ll have an advantage. We start by getting the programming out, and then we'll feed them information—nothing important, nothing that will help them against Peter. We can get Bucky into a position of trust so they tell us what they're doing."

Tony considered. “Okay. Yes, we can do that. But we are getting the programming out first, and we’re locking you down properly this time. I mean it, Barnes—no more midnight strolls around the compound. If you’re staying in the US, you’re staying inside the compound.”

Bucky nodded grimly. “Agreed.”

"Do you have BARF here, or is it upstate?" Natasha asked.

“It’s here,” Tony said. “I want those words powered down now. I’ll call off the lawyers for a couple days. We’ve got T’Challa and the other representatives coming Thursday, and I’m here tomorrow to see Peter.” He ran a hand through his hair. “BARF first, then we’ll start working out a game plan.” He looked at Bucky, his face unreadable, and then he said, “I don’t want to send you to Thuri, Bucky, but if I’m not sure you’re safe, that’s where you’re going. Understand?”

Steve was pleased that Tony had softened his tone and that he was no longer calling him 'Barnes,' but Bucky looked as wretched as ever.

“I understand. If I’m not sure I’m safe, I’ll take myself there without hesitation.” He fixed his eyes on Tony. “I know you’re angry, but you can’t be as angry as I am at myself. I know what could have happened. I’m not forgiving myself for putting him at risk, not ever. You know how much I love Peter.”

“I do,” Tony said with a curt nod. “Let’s go. I want this done.”

Bucky followed him to the door, Natasha going after them. Steve cleared the remnants of Natasha’s field surgery away, so as not to leave the med-team with questions when they came in, and then went after them.

He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Bucky going through BARF, but he knew it was the best way to do it. The only other option was to send Bucky to Wakanda, and Steve would fight tooth and nail to avoid that.

He didn’t want Bucky to be forced to face Thuri again.

xXx

Tony handed Bucky the glasses and said, “You know how it works; the program will tap into what you need to see, and you’ve got to beat the illusion.”

Bucky nodded stiffly. “I’ve got it. I can do this.”

“You can,” Steve said. “We all know it. Just let it happen. Remember how it worked for Queens. You’ve got to pull it together the way he did.”

He stepped back, and Bucky reached to his shoulder, tugging and removing his new prosthetic arm. Tony took it from him without comment and carried it over to the table.

“You don’t need to do that, Buck,” Steve said, not liking the vulnerable way Bucky looked without the arm.

“I do,” Bucky said. “If I’m triggered, I’m going to be a lot easier to take down without that additional weapon.”

“True,” Tony said. “And we can’t lock you down for it. You need to be able to interact with the simulation.” He stepped back and said, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Bucky moved to the rear wall of the lab, in front of the clear expanse of concrete wall, and raised his hand as if to put the glasses on. Before he could, though, there was movement behind them, and Vision drifted through the wall. Though it wasn’t Vision—his eyes were the yellow they now knew meant Mind was in control.

“Good timing,” Tony said. “You can hold him down better than any of us.”

Mind nodded. “I wanted to offer my help, and Peter had a message for Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky’s head snapped around. “He did? Is he okay?”

“He is healing,” Mind said. “And he is concerned for you. He wanted me to see you, to tell you he will be here for you when you need him. We didn’t expect you would be doing this already, though I suppose we should have.”

Bucky smiled, seeming far more relaxed now than he had been since they found him in that alley with Peter. “Tell him I’m sorry for what happened. I’d never have wanted to scare him, and I never would have hurt him willingly.”

“He knows,” Mind said. “He is more scared for you now. He knew you would come to BARF as a solution, and he remembers the difficulty of it. But he knows you can do it, as he could.”

Bucky shook his head, eyes fond. “He’s overestimating how strong I am compared to him.”

“No, he is not,” Mind said simply. “You can tell him whatever you need soon.”

Bucky looked puzzled, but Tony was clearly impatient as he said, “Come on, Bucky, get going.”

Bucky looked at Mind a moment, seeming to be on the verge of speech, and then he shook his head and put on the glasses.

As he had with Peter, Steve watched the scene form, but it was not the one he was expecting. He imagined Bucky would be in the alley again, facing Zemo as he shot and triggered him, or perhaps in a Hydra base with his handler. However, he was in what looked like a Hydra bunker, strapped down, and he was alone. He also had both arms in the simulation, though one was the Hydra model he’d worn before Tony had replaced it and taken Hydra’s to be melted into scrap.

The door opened, and Steve expected a Hydra agent, but instead, it was a familiar person that came in. It was the Peter they knew in 2023, the rainbow eyes, the hair that needed to be trimmed. His eyes were sad as he approached Bucky, though.

“Hey, Bucky,” he said with a small smile, his voice soft.

"You shouldn't be here, kid," Bucky said. "It's not safe."

Peter shrugged. “It’s safe for me, really, and I wanted to see you.”

He placed his hand in Bucky’s metal one and gave it a small squeeze. Bucky tried to pull away, but the restraints that held him to the chair were too strong.

“I didn’t know when to come,” the kid said sadly. “I thought about it a lot, because I knew you wouldn’t remember it when they used the words on you, but I figured now was the right time. They’re going to come for you soon, Bucky, and they’re going to send you after Captain America.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Steve! He’s alive?”

“This is when Peter came to him,” Tony said with a tone of dawning realization. “When he went back to help him.”

“It is,” Steve said, a small smile curling his lips as he witnessed what had been a defining moment for his best friend, knowing the difference it had made for him after.

Peter’s eyes blazed with anger. "They didn't even tell you that much. Figures. But, yeah, Steve is alive, and he's not a wrinkly old man. He was frozen in the ice, kinda like you were here. He's back now, and he's got a new team." He leaned closer. "Bucky, you won't remember all of this for a while, I know, but I need to tell you anyway. This will be your last mission for Hydra. It's all going to change from here."

"Who the hell are—" Bucky stopped, his eyes clearing and a broad smile curling his lips as Steve realized he recognized the memory and situation of BARF, just as Peter had. "Peter?"

Peter beamed. “Hey, Bucky.”

Bucky bit his lip. “I miss you, bud. Is it you?”

"I miss you, too, And it really is me—I'm here. I worked out a way to use Mind and Time to come while your mind is open with the simulation.” He looked around as if searching for others but seemed to see none of them, even though Tony stepped forward and breathed his name. “Can you tell them all I’m sorry? I really am. I wouldn’t have sent you if I had a choice.”

“We know,” Bucky said. “We all understand why you had to. We don’t mind it. We want to be here for you.”

Peter smiled. “I figured you would.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn, this is so hard. I want to stay, but I can’t. You need to see it through, face it.”

Bucky’s face fell. “Now?”

Peter smiled sympathetically. “Now.”

“Can you come back?”

“I don’t know. It’s too hard for me to reach you in your dreams the way I can when you’re close. I’ll try, though. Besides, it’s not like I’m not with you here. You’ve got me.”

“I won’t have you, though,” Bucky said, obvious regret in his voice.

“You will. Once the programming is gone, you can see me. I can keep a secret, and it’s not like I don’t know you’re here now.”

“I think Tony might have a few objections to that,” Bucky said.

Peter’s lips curved with a smile. “I’m sure he will, but he knows me better than to think I’d tell anyone.”

“That’s not the problem for him.”

“No, maybe not, but you’ll be safe once the words are gone.” He grinned. “If he argues, tell him I’m pulling teen-angst rank.”

Bucky laughed. “He’s watching this, you know?”

Peter’s lips turned down. “I know. This is so hard. God, I miss you all so much. But if he’s watching, he’s listening, too, so he knows I want to see you. He won’t take that away from me.” He chuckled. “It’s a bit different for me where I’m at now, here, fourteen, since I won’t know what it means to you or me, but tell him he needs to share.”

Tony laughed, running a hand over his face. “Damn, kid, way to twist my arm.”

Steve grinned. “You know he’s right—once the words are dealt with, there’s no reason to keep him away from Bucky.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Tony said. “No one else is meeting him until The Accords are dealt with, though.”

Peter squeezed Bucky’s hand and said, “Are you ready?”

Bucky nodded. “I think so.”

“I know so,” Peter said. “Remember, you have the power here. You have beaten them before, and you will again.” He stepped back, giving Bucky space, which he seemed to resent, and then said, “Go on, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded, closed his eyes, then opened them, and said, "Come on then, you son of a bitch.”

The door opened, and a man walked in. He was wearing black fatigues, and his dark brows were contracted over his eyes. He approached Bucky, who shot Peter a look and received a nod and smile in return.

Bucky took a breath as the man took a red notebook from his pocket and said, “You are required, Soldier.”

“You’re okay, Bucky,” Peter murmured. “I’m here.”

Steve saw the softening in Bucky’s eyes in response, and then they hardened as the man began to recite the trigger words. “Желание. Ржавый. Семнадцать. Рассвет.”

Steve saw Bucky’s eyes drifting, becoming unfocused, and Peter moved closer and said, “Bucky, fight it!”

The man went on, “Печь. Девять. Добросердечный,” and Bucky’s lips parted.

“It’s not working,” Tony said. “I knew it! He can’t do it.”

“Give him time,” Steve said, his voice taking on a hint of pleading. “Give him a chance.”

 “Возвращение на родину. Один—”

“No…” Bucky said, his voice weak, and then becoming stronger as he repeated, “No!”

Peter beamed at Bucky.

“He’s doing it,” Steve said. “Watch.”

Bucky’s eyes became hard, his jaw tight, and he said, “I will not comply! Желание. No! Ржавый. No!”

Steve's gaze moved between Bucky as he repeated each trigger word followed by negation, to Peter, whose eyes were blazing with pride.

Bucky was panting as he finished, “Один. No! Грузовой вагон. No! You do not control me!"

With a growl and heaving chest, he wrenched his arms up, out of the restraints, and jumped to his feet. He advanced on the handler, his eyes dark with fury, speeding when the man backed away. He grabbed the man around the throat and lifted him a clear foot in the air, the man’s face reddening and his mouth gaping as he tried to draw breath.

Bucky looked over his shoulder and said, “Bud?” in a way that sounded as if he was asking for permission.

“Do it,” Peter said, his eyes troubled. “You have to.”

Bucky fixed his eyes on the man gripped in his metal hand again and said, “I am Bucky Barnes. I am not the Winter Soldier. I am my own man. No one commands me.” He snapped his wrist to the right, breaking the man’s neck and then throwing his body away onto the floor. He stared at him a moment and then turned to Peter, a wary look in his eyes.

Peter walked towards him, and Bucky seemed to hesitate on the verge of moving back. Peter shook his head, though, and wrapped his arms around Bucky. Bucky sagged with relief and rested his cheek against Peter’s hair, wrapping his arms tight around him.

“Is that enough?” Natasha asked. “Is it done?”

“It’s what Peter did,” Tony said. “So, I'd say yes." He turned to Mind, who was watching Peter and Bucky with a strangely fond look in his eyes. “Is it done?”

He nodded. “He is free of the programming, yes. Peter would know if he was not.”

“And he definitely knows he is,” Steve said, his voice fond as he watched Bucky and Peter embrace.

Peter and Bucky parted, and Bucky pushed Peter’s hair back from his face. “Can you stay?”

Peter shook his head. “I wish I could, but I need to rest. This is hard to do. Mind will come back, though, and he’ll help.”

“You can’t come back?” Bucky asked, eyes sad and lips turned down at the corners.

“I don’t think so. This was a unique situation here, with BARF. But, like I said, you have me here still. It’s not me-me, but that’s who I’m becoming.” He gave Bucky one last hug, closed his eyes, and said, "Tell them all I said thank you," and then stepped back and disappeared.

Bucky stared at the place he had been a moment and then took off the glasses and sighed.

The dark room he had been in disappeared, his metal arm vanished, and he walked towards them and handed Tony the glasses, which he tucked into his pocket.

“Did you see him, too?” Bucky asked eagerly.

“We did,” Tony said, fondness mingled with regret in his eyes. “We saw it all.”

“Did it work?” Bucky asked. “Is it gone? Am I free?”

Mind smiled and said, “It is gone, and I must go, too. Peter is tired and needs rest.”

“Thank him for us,” Steve said. “Tell him it was good to see him.”

“I will, but I am sure he will already know.” Mind looked between Tony and Bucky, an enigmatic smile on his face, and then his eyes cleared to the blue of Vision, and he rubbed his temples.

“That is quite disconcerting, you know,” he said conversationally.

“Yeah, I bet,” Tony said sympathetically. “But it’s good for us when it happens.”

Steve smiled, seeing the distant but happy look in Bucky’s eyes. He guessed Bucky’s thoughts were with Peter still and the time he’d spent with him. Steve wished he’d had the chance to be with him, too, but he was glad for his friend to have that comfort and support during what must have been a nightmare situation.

But it was done, Bucky’s mind belonged to himself and himself alone, and now they had an advantage in the fight.

If they could maintain Bucky’s cover, they could feed information to the enemy and gather intelligence in return.

Steve thought things were working in their favor for a change, and he was glad of it. He’d just seen the kid he loved and that they were fighting to protect as he was when he knew him best, and that gave him a new drive to make this work.

Peter needed to be protected, the world needed to be, and they were going to do it.

Chapter Text

Tony was filled with nervous anticipation as he waited for Peter to arrive that afternoon. He paced around the penthouse, picking things up and putting them down again. When it was close enough to time for Peter to arrive, he went to the kitchen and fixed a smoothie for them both.

Friday alerted him that Happy had just pulled up outside the building, and he resisted the urge to go down to meet him in the lobby. Instead, he poured the smoothies into glasses, added straws, and carried them to the lab to wait. He pulled up a hologram of his suit and fiddled with that until the door opened behind him, and Peter came in with his usual greeting of, "Hey, Mr. Stark."

He didn’t sound as eager and cheerful as he usually did, though, and Tony turned with a wary smile in place. “Hey, kid. Are you okay?”

"Yeah, great," Peter said, slipping off his hoodie and hanging it on the hook. He didn't hang his backpack up, though; instead, he carried it over to the table and set it down. "I… uh… I need to tell you something, though you might already know. You probably do. I mean, you're Tony Stark, and you've got all this tech. And why would you be interested in me otherwise, or why would you be interested even if you did know, or—"

Tony held up a hand. “Breathe, Pete. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Peter unzipped his backpack and took out a swath of red fabric with welding goggles sewn into the face—his Spider-Man mask. He placed it on the table and bit his lip.

“Ahh,” Tony said.

He was pleased that Peter now felt ready to tell him the truth, and he supposed it made sense he would do it now, after what had happened the night before.

“Did you know?”

Tony sighed, torn with indecision. He didn’t want to lie to Peter, but from his rambling, Peter apparently thought Tony would only be interested in him as Spider-Man, not Peter Parker. That was how it had started before, that was what drew him to Peter, but now Spider-Man was the least part of him that mattered. It was Peter that Tony loved—Peter was his son.

“I knew,” he admitted.

Peter’s face fell. “Figures.”

“No!” Tony said roughly, then softened his voice. “You’ve got to understand, Peter, it was you, your talent, that caught my interest, not the guy in the suit.”

“Spider-Man,” Peter said quietly. “I call myself Spider-Man.”

Tony smiled despite himself. "Spider-Boy would have been more apt, but you'll grow into it."

Peter laughed. “Sure. Okay.”

“I mean it, though,” Tony said. “Peter Parker is the one I care about, Spider-Man is just a facet of that—not the interesting part at all.”

Peter’s cheeks colored. “Thanks.”

“You’re telling me because of what happened last night?” Tony guessed

“Yeah. Is Sergeant Barnes okay? It looked bad.”

“He’s fine,” Tony said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We fixed him up with no problems. He’s really sorry for scaring you, though, believe me, he’s sorry.” He smiled wryly. “That was the last thing he wanted to do.”

“Oh. I… uh… I’m fine. I was kinda worried about him. Well, yeah, I mean seeing the person talked about on the news, The Winter Soldier, in my city is kinda scary, but he didn’t fight back when I webbed him up, and he seemed more worried than dangerous.”

“He can be dangerous,” Tony said, an admission. “He was once incredibly dangerous, but he’s not now. All his crimes, all the things they talk about on the news, were done under the control of Hydra. He was brainwashed by them. Bucky, that’s his real name, is the furthest thing from a threat to you or anyone on our side.”

It was strange to say it, especially after how angry he had been the night before, but he knew it was the truth. He had seen it when Bucky was breaking the programming, with how he looked at Peter when he’d come to him.

As happy as Tony was that Bucky had support through the process, he wished he’d had a chance to speak to Peter himself—the version of Peter that was his son and knew it, not the one with this new and developing bond.

“I had heard that,” Peter said. “So, yeah, that’s good. Can you tell him I’m sorry about the whole webbing him to a wall thing? I just thought I should, you know, since I didn’t know he was safe at the time.”

 “You did the right thing. Last night he was…” He ran a hand through his hair. “He was technically dangerous last night, but that’s been dealt with. He’s safe now.”

Peter looked doubtful. “It’s that easy?”

Tony shook his head. “It’s the furthest thing from easy, but he got through it. He had some help.”

Peter looked puzzled, but he didn’t speak.

"I'm glad you're telling me at last," Tony said. "I found out after I saw you at your science fair, when I looked into you a little. I'd already been interested in 'Spider-Man' since he came across my radar, but I had no plans to reach out since you seemed to be doing okay alone. When I found out it was you, I wanted to help, but I also wanted you to tell me in your own time, when you trusted me."

“I do trust you!” Peter said quickly. “Really, like totally. I didn’t think you’d be interested, honestly, since I’m just, you know, me, which is nothing compared to The Avengers. I wanted to know about Sergeant Barnes, though, so I had to tell you, even though it seemed silly.”

Tony placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's not silly. It's big. Sure, you're not an Avenger.” Not yet, he amended mentally. "But what you do is just as important. I know what you do for Queens. You make a difference, just like we try to do.” He huffed a laugh. “Comparatively, you’re better. You’ve got a clean record, whereas we’ve done a lot of damage in our time.”

Peter shook his head, curls bouncing around his ears. “No! You’re like the heroes. You save lives. I don’t do anything like that.” His eyes became sad. “I’ve cost a life.”

Tony frowned, and then his mind connected what he was saying—he realized Peter was talking about what happened to his uncle. Peter rarely spoke about him, but he’d seen enough in the BARF simulation and from what he’d read about Ben Parker’s death to know Peter held guilt for it. However, he could not say that without Peter finding out he knew more than he’d said, the things he knew from the future. All he could do was offer his support.

“I know you’re a good kid, Peter, and I don’t believe you’re at fault for anything that might have happened.”

Peter bit his lip and cast his eyes down.

Deciding a change of subject was needed, Tony said, “Anyway, now we’re on the same page, we can get to work on fixing you up with a suit that’s worthy of a superhero.”

"Not a superhero," Peter said, eyes wide. "Really, according to The Daily Bugle, I'm more of a menace."

Tony’s eyes darkened as he remembered the asshole Jameson from the press conference, and he mulled over ideas for buying out The Daily Bugle and shutting it down, deciding to talk to Pepper about it at dinner.

“I’m Iron Man,” he said firmly. “If I say you’re a superhero, you’re a superhero. Now, let’s have a look at what we’ve got to work with. I have a few ideas.” He swiped through the files and pulled up a schematic for Peter’s suit that he’d been tinkering with, taking some of the ideas from Peter’s first suit and the one he’d made him in 2023.

Peter’s eyes widened as he looked at the rotating suit and list of features, and his mouth dropped open. Pleased with his reaction, Tony said, “So, I think you should stick with the red and blue color scheme, so you’re still recognizable, but we need to slim it down and get some better protections in place…”

Peter nodded, seemingly without words, and Tony grinned as he nudged Peter’s smoothie towards him and took a sip of his own.

Seeing Peter like this was one of the best things about being with him again, that raw enthusiasm without the responsibilities of 2023, and he was going to enjoy himself while they created the very best suit Peter could hope for.

xXx

Tony and Peter were eating lunch together in the penthouse, having spent a morning fine-tuning the plan for his suit, and Tony was enjoying the easy peace that seemed to have formed. Now Peter had told him about Spider-Man, it felt like a barrier between them had been lifted, that the trust Peter had shown in him had created more of a connection.

He was pleased by it, as he was eager to have the fullest bond between him and his son again, even though he knew he was months away from that happening. Still, these steps, instances of trust, meant the world to him.

He pushed over the plate of brownies he’d brought in from his and Pepper’s favorite bakery—which would from today be Peter’s favorite, too—and said, “Help yourself, kid.”

Peter took one from the plate, bit into it, and his eyes widened with the surprise Tony remembered. He chewed slowly, seeming to be relishing it, then swallowed and said, “Wow, Mr. Stark. These are amazing!”

“They are,” Tony agreed. “They come from Kikki’s Bakery, in the Village. Me and Pep have their stuff all the time.”

“Yeah, I get why,” Peter said, taking another bite.

Tony helped himself to a brownie and lifted it to his mouth, then stopped and lowered it when Peter cleared his throat and said, “Uh, Mr. Stark, I wanted to ask you something.”

Tony set the brownie down on his plate and said, “Go ahead.”

“It’s about the Sokovia Accords,” Peter said hesitantly. “I know Spider-Man is nothing compared to The Avengers, so it probably doesn’t matter, but I wondered if I’d have to sign, too. I know you and the other Avengers haven’t, so you’ve had to stand down or retire or whatever, but I’m still doing my thing in Queens.” He fixed his wide brown eyes on Tony and said, “Am I going to get in trouble?”

Tony wiped his mouth with his napkin and said, “No, kid. Although one of the things we’re planning to put in place with our changes is that no minors will be required to sign, Spider-Man has gone under the radar. Not that what you do isn’t great, but the UN are focused on us and not paying attention to what goes on in Queens.”

Peter exhaled a long sigh. “That’s good. I didn’t think I would, since it’s just me, you know. It’d be like the UN paying attention to the pilot fish when a shark swims by.”

Tony smirked. “Nice analogy, kid.”

Peter grinned. "You know what I mean. It's just this kid at school, who's kinda an ass, was talking about Spider-Man, and he mentioned The Accords. I don't want to stop what I'm doing, but I also don't want to wind up on that Raft place they talked about on the news.”

Tony winced as the memory of what had happened before, the pain and torture Peter had suffered on The Raft, swamped him. He quickly pushed it down and pasted on a smile, though, not wanting Peter to see his unease.

“You won’t,” he said. “Trust me, Spider-Man is going to be good as he is. Well, he’s going to be great once he’s in that suit we’re making. I’ve got a few surprises up my sleeve for you.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Tony grinned and tousled his hair before Peter could duck away. “You do know the concept of surprise, right, kid?”

Peter laughed. “Yeah. Can’t blame me for trying, though. I mean, I’m getting a suit made by Tony Stark, which is awesome. Even if it’s just a suit, no bonus tech, it’s going to be incredible.”

“It’s going to be a lot more than just a suit,” Tony assured him. “Now, eat your brownie so we can get back to work. Sooner you’ve got some decent protections in place, the happier I’ll be. I’ve had nightmares about you running around in that onesie.”

Peter shook his head. "It's not a onesie. It's a sweatsuit. And I was kinda limited on budget and materials. I had to make do with what I could find in the thrift shops and dumpsters."

“You did good, kid,” Tony said with a smile. "The web-shooters alone are amazing."

Peter blushed and ducked his head, taking an extra-large bite of his brownie and chewing quickly.

Peter was always reticent in the face of praise, but that wasn’t going to stop Tony from giving it. 

He was proud of his son, and he was going to show him however and whenever he could.

Chapter Text

Tony leaned against the wall, waiting while Peter changed in the locker room. He was putting on his new suit for the first time, and Tony couldn’t wait to see what he thought of it.

He’d set it up so Karen would come online for the first time only when Peter triggered her and when he was alone, so that was one surprise he was looking forward to seeing happen through the footage. He could have done it now, so he could see it in person, but he thought Peter’s reaction would be more organic if he was alone. She was set up to introduce herself when Peter started talking to himself, which Tony knew would happen soon. If Peter had no one to talk to, he was perfectly happy to talk to himself. It was one of many endearing qualities about him.

Of course, in the future, Peter was never alone: The Infinity Stones were always there. That had troubled Tony at first, the thought of voices crowding in his head. He still worried sometimes about what Peter was subjected to with Power, but Peter seemed genuinely fond of him when he spoke about him. Tony didn’t understand it, as he thought Power was an asshole from their interactions, but perhaps he was different with Peter.

After all, Mind said The Stones cared about Peter in their way, a way they seemed to think was different to love, and Mind’s inflection indicated that it was more powerful than love.

Tony knew that was bullshit, though. Nothing those Stones could feel for Peter was stronger than what he felt for him as a father. Morgan and Peter were his children; with Pepper, they were the best part of his world. He would die for them in a heartbeat. Nothing The Stones felt could compare to that.

The door opened, and Peter came in, stepping carefully in the suit. He had the mask on, so Tony could not see his face, but the eyes were blinking rapidly with what Tony hoped was happiness.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Mr. Stark—it’s amazing! Like, I can’t believe how well it fits. I’m going to be way faster swinging in this. I can’t wait to try!”

His face lifted, and he seemed to survey the walls. They were high, thirty feet, but Peter needed more room than they had here to really let loose.

“You’ll have to test it out when you get out on patrol,” Tony said. “But the fit’s okay? You’re comfortable?”

Peter danced from foot to foot, his eyes blinking quickly. “The fit is great. Seriously, so comfortable. Really, Mr. Stark, this is the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Better than the internship?” Tony asked, a smile quirking his lips.

Peter tilted his head to the side. “No. It’s… uh…” He snapped his fingers. “It’s the best thing to ever happen to Spider-Man.”

“Great. Now, I was thinking we could test out your range of motion by sparring.”

Peter actually took a step backward, hands held up. "I can't spar with you, Mr. Stark! I could really hurt you. I mean, yeah, I'm good at controlling my strength now—I've stopped breaking things. But still, I don't want to hurt you."

“I have to agree, Boss,” Friday said. “You would be vulnerable against Peter’s strength.”

“Betrayed by my own people,” Tony said, throwing up his hands.

“I have an alternative, though,” Friday went on. “Captain Rogers just entered the penthouse. I would suggest him as a sparring partner for Peter.”

“Great. Thanks, Friday,” Tony said bitterly.

Peter seemed no happier than Tony. “Steve!” he said, and Tony felt the pang that Peter was already using his given name and not his title like he was for him. “He’ll crush me!”

His glower vanishing, Tony laughed. "He really won't, kid. I've seen what you can do, remember."

Peter shook his head jerkily. “Yeah, okay, I could stop that car, but I heard Mr. Rogers won a tug of war with a helicopter. I’ve never done that!” He yanked off his mask, revealing his wide and worried eyes. “I can’t fight him!”

Softening at Peter’s obvious distress, Tony held up his hands. “If it’ll help you, I’ll tell him to go easy on you. He can do that. The Avengers used to train together all the time, so Steve can control his strength, just like you. Friday, tell him where we are and get him down here.”

Peter still looked slightly panicked, but Tony had total faith in his safety. He’d seen him face Steve before, and Peter had definitely been the victor. Peter needed this, even; he had to see what he was capable of against someone he admired as much as Steve as well as someone so strong.

And if Tony wanted to see Steve on his ass again… well, that was just coincidence.

Besides, in the future, the others seemed to think Peter's strength came from The Stones, while Tony knew that wasn't true. From their experiments when Bruce was analyzing The Stones, and from Tony's calculations of the warehouse that had fallen on Peter, Tony knew Peter could lift at least eight tons. Steve couldn't do that.

The door opened behind them, and Steve came in. Tony hadn’t been happy that he was apparently going to crash another of his days with Peter, but now he was pleased to see him. Peter needed the confidence boost of taking him down, and Steve needed to see what Peter was capable of.

And Tony needed the laughs.

“Hey, Queens,” Steve said cheerfully. “Nice suit.”

“Mr. Stark made it for me,” Peter said eagerly. “It’s incredible.”

“Looks it,” Steve said. “Let’s get a proper look. Give me a twirl.”

Peter looked surprised, but he obeyed, turning on the spot.  He beamed at Steve, awaiting his reaction, but Steve said, “I missed it. Do it again?”

Tony bit down on his tongue to stop himself laughing as a bewildered Peter turned again, looked expectantly at Steve, then frowned as Steve said, “Nope, missed it again. Once more.”

Peter obeyed, and this time Tony couldn’t hold down the laugh. Peter looked between them, seeing Tony’s laughter and Steve’s wide smile, and he scowled. “That’s not funny!”

“I’m sorry, but it really is,” Tony said. “You should be pleased, though. It’s not often Steve decides to mess with people, so he really must like you.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he pulled on his mask again to cover it.

Steve quirked an eyebrow at Tony, who nodded—it was okay, and so was Peter; he was just embarrassed to have been caught out. Tony was pleased Steve had done it, though, shown Peter how comfortable he was around him. 

“Okay, Cap, Pete’s got a shiny new suit, so he needs someone to test it out with,” he said. “He needs to spar. You up to it?”

Steve grinned and nodded. “Definitely.”

Peter’s masked eyes widened again, and he shifted from foot to foot.

“We’ve got rules, though,” Tony went on, deciding to give Peter a break. “You’re not aiming to injure each other. I want just a test of strength and to see what Peter’s existing skills are.”

That was something he would improve on when it was the right time. In 2023, Peter was able to protect himself with The Infinity Stones—at least against everyone but Ego—but right now, he only had his own strength and abilities.

It was too soon to bring in other people, as he didn’t want Peter more involved in The Avengers than he already was until The Accords were finalized. He hadn’t even wanted Steve to be involved, but Steve had pushed his way in. However, when it was time, Tony would recruit Natasha to teach Peter how to fight. She was the most skilled fighter among them in many different disciplines.

He meant what he said to Peter: Spider-Man wasn’t going to fall under The Accords, which he said with faith as he’d never been mentioned before. Even if Ross did turn his beady eyes on Peter, Tony would protect him from it. As curious as he knew the others were, as much as Natasha wanted to have a chance to get to know Peter better than she had in 2023, Tony was going to protect him from scrutiny until it was the right time.

Steve squared his shoulders and said, “I’ll go get ready,” then strolled into the locker room.

Peter watched him go, then turned to Tony and said, “Really, Mr. Stark, this is such a bad idea. He’s going to destroy me.”

Tony placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Kid, you can handle this. Steve isn’t going to hurt you. You’re just going to be testing out each other’s abilities. Think of it as science.”

“Or think of it as me getting my ass kicked!”

Tony squeezed his shoulder and said, "Try having a little faith in yourself."

Peter huffed a laugh and then spun around as Steve came back into the room, checking the wraps on his hands. Peter looked between Steve and Tony, and Tony said, "Okay, kids, stick to the center ring. The aim is to get the other out of the ring. Remember, you're not going for the hurt. This is a test of skill and strength."

“And a chance for me to get a black eye,” Peter mumbled.

Tony moved out of their range, and Steve clapped Peter on the back and said, “You’ll do just fine, Queens. Tony’s told me a lot about you and what you’re capable of.”

“Yeah, but he’s never seen me go up against a super-soldier before,” Peter said.

Steve grinned and took his place.

Peter moved to face him, shook out his arms, then squared his stance, and stood waiting. Steve didn't move either—they just stared at each other.

“Come on!” Tony shouted. “Go for it, Pete!”

Peter gave a little shiver and then jumped as Steve swiped a kick at him. Tony saw the opening, knowing Natasha would grab Steve’s foot and knock him down by jerking it up, but Peter didn’t take it. Instead, he jumped back, his feet landing on the edges of the ring Tony had instructed them to stay within.

“You can do it, kid!” Tony said, clapping his hands. “Let loose.”

Steve swung again, a fist, and this time Peter moved forward to meet it. He caught Steve’s wrist and twisted it.

Steve grunted with surprise and wrenched himself free. His face was smooth, but Tony thought he was shocked Peter had met his blow so soon.

Peter swung this time, aiming a fist at Steve’s jaw, and Steve caught it and yanked him against his chest. Peter was pinned momentarily, and then he brought up a fist, which crashed into Steve’s nose. Tony heard a crunch followed by a grunt of pain, and then Peter was toppling forwards as Steve released him.

Steve’s hand came to his nose, which was bleeding and crooked, and Peter stood frozen, facing away from them. Tony thought he was scared to look and see what the damage was.

“You good, Steve?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Steve said, voice muffled. “Just got to…” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his palms, grimaced, and then ran his hands down, setting the nose back in place with another crunch.

"Oh god," Peter whispered. "Oh god, oh god, oh, god!"

“It’s fine, Pete,” Tony said, walking forward and putting an arm around his shoulders. “Look, he’s already fixed it.”

Peter turned slowly, reluctantly, and glanced up at Steve. Though his nose was now straight, it was still bleeding profusely, which Steve was staunching with one of the wraps he’d pulled off his hands. He also had two magnificent black eyes blossoming.

“Steve, I am so, so sorry,” Peter said weakly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. And Mr. Stark told us not to. I was just trying to dislodge your grip. I aimed too high and… Your nose!”

“It’s okay,” Steve said thickly. “Sure, I wasn’t expecting this, since I’ve fought Bucky before and I figured he was stronger than you, but it’s all fine. The bleeding is slowing already, and it’s straight.”

"Yeah, yeah," Tony said. "Your good looks aren't spoiled." He smirked. "But you might want Nat's help with concealer since your eyes are darkening pretty damn quick."

Peter gave a small moan.

“Really, it’s fine,” Steve said. “I’ve had plenty worse sparring with Thor.”

That was not technically true, as none of them were stupid enough to spar with Thor, but Tony could tell Peter was relieved to hear it.

Maybe this had been a mistake. Tony had not expected Steve to actually get hurt. He’d thought Peter would take him down like he had last time, embarrassing him but causing no real harm. Still, it was kind of funny to see Steve’s slowing nosebleed and blackening eyes.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Peter said quietly.

“You did,” Tony said. “But I insisted. You can blame me for Cap’s nose. I don’t mind taking credit. I can’t wait to tell the others how I did it. We’ll keep your name out of it, Peter. I want all the glory.”

Peter tugged off his mask, and he was smiling slightly. “They won’t be angry?”

“Not even a little,” Steve said, lowering his hand from his nose, which had stopped bleeding. "They'll find it hilarious. Clint's going to have a field day, and Natasha's going to be furious I've not learned how to dodge better from her. Really, it's fine. It doesn't even hurt anymore, and I heal fast.”

"Me too," Peter said, lifting his hand. "I cut myself in the kitchen with Mr. Stark, and the wound was healed the next day, but I had to keep the bandage on for days. See, it's not even scarred now."

Steve nodded and swallowed hard. Tony was sure he was thinking of the same things as him—the scars they’d seen marring Peter’s skin in 2023, the scars that came with mental torment as Peter dreamed of his own death.

Those scars had faded, too, at least they had physically; Tony had a mental scar from the dream he’d shared, and he imagined Peter bore some, too. 

Shaking off his momentary distress, Tony said, “I think we should get upstairs, feed Peter, get Steve an ice pack, and maybe a coffee for me. I got tired just watching you two.”

Peter seemed appeased, rubbing his stomach and saying, “Yeah. I could eat.”

“You always can,” Tony said with a smile.

One of the good things about Peter coming clean about Spider-Man was that Tony could now make sure he got enough to eat. May did her best, even though she didn’t know the reason behind Peter’s voracious appetite. But Peter confessed it was sometimes hard to get as much food as he needed, resorting to bags of dried fruit and nuts at school.

Tony knew he liked the protein bars he used to keep stocked for him in the lab, and he’d special ordered some to come. They were kind of a high-end brand, designed for professional athletes, which Peter didn’t know. If he found out what Tony spent on feeding him, he’d be mortified and would refuse to eat them again, so Tony kept it to himself.

He placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder and guided him out of the gym and to the elevator. Steve followed, touching his nose tentatively, and Tony noticed him checking his reflection in the mirrored wall.

Tony smirked. He was going to make sure he was there when Steve got back to the compound. He wanted to see the others’ reactions when they found out how it had happened.

As much as he liked Steve, Tony was amused to see him with black eyes given to him by his kid. That’d teach him to underestimate Peter’s strength.

xXx

Rhodey was running late. He’d planned to arrive at the tower in time for Peter’s own arrival, but he’d been held up by a call from General Meade who wanted to talk about The Accords. It felt like he got even more work done when he was actually off the base than he did when he was there.

He let himself into the penthouse to grab a coffee before searching out Tony and Peter. Tony said Peter was trying on his suit for the first time, and Rhodey wanted to see how it went.

He set the coffee maker to his required settings, blessing Tony’s inventiveness that could make him the perfect strength and blend on any given day, and leaned against the counter while it brewed.

The elevator hummed, and then the doors opened, and Tony came in, leading Peter, in a fancy new suit, and Steve trailing behind them.

“Rhodey!” Tony said, obviously pleased to see him. “Didn’t expect you today. You’ve got to see what I did to Steve.”

Rhodey looked past Tony and Peter to Steve, and he saw the spectacular black eyes blossoming on Steve’s face.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked.

Peter made a small sound of pain.

“He pissed me off,” Tony said. “Had to punch him to shut him up.”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow. “And you know, I really doubt it.”

“It was me,” Peter confessed miserably. “We were sparring.”

Despite the look of misery on Peter’s face, Rhodey couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, Peter, I think you’ve just beaten an Avengers’ record. I don’t think any of us have given Steve even one black eye before, let alone two at once.”

“You should have seen what he did to Steve’s nose before he set it,” Tony said, eyes alight with glee.

Peter moaned and covered his face with his hands.

Tony placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, face falling, and he said, “You know he’s okay now, kid. His pretty looks will be fine once the bruises fade.”

“I really am okay, Queens,” Steve said. “And it’s my fault for not dodging. You should be pleased. If you can get out of my hold, you can get out of anyone’s.”

Peter nodded, but he didn’t look that happy.

Steve went to the fridge and grabbed two sodas, handing one to Peter and popping the top of his own. The coffee maker beeped, and Rhodey poured himself and Tony a mug. They carried their drinks to the couch and settled down.

“So, Peter, how have you been?” Rhodey asked.

“Oh, good,” Peter said, brightening. “We’re on summer break, so I’ve been able to patrol a lot more, and I have more time with Ned—he’s my best friend.”

“And more time here,” Tony added with a grin.

“Yeah, absolutely. That’s been great, too.”

“It has been for me,” Tony agreed. “Really, Rhodey, you’re going to love the new suit once you see what Pete’s cooked up for you.”

Rhodey smiled. “You’ve been upgrading things for me, Peter?”

“No, not really. I just had an idea. It was Mr. Stark that made it work. I was just throwing out thoughts.”

“He’s being modest. It was all him,” Tony said, obvious paternal pride in his voice.

Rhodey nodded. "I can't wait to see what you've come up with. Talking of… That suit, it looks great!”

Peter beamed. “Doesn’t it! Mr. Stark is a genius, which is, yeah, obvious, the genius, but it’s incredible.”

Tony smirked. “You hear that, Rhodey, I’m the genius.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Go easy on the praise, kid. Tony’s head is already too big. He wasn’t always this smart. You ever hear about Tony’s first forays into self-propelling suits?”

Peter shook his head.

Rhodey grinned wickedly. “Friday, I know you’ve inherited those files from Jarvis. Pull them up.”

“No!” Tony said quickly. “Friday, don’t you dare!”

It was too late. With an apologetic, "Sorry, Boss, command already executed," Friday pulled up the video on the TV, and Peter's eyes moved to it.

Tony was standing in the center of his lab, smiling smugly. “Jarvis, drop my needle.”

The music started playing, and Tony flung out his hand towards the table where the dismantled Iron Man suit was spread. Nothing happened.

He frowned, waved his hand again, then said, “Crap.”

On the video, he bit his arm, and Peter snorted and shot Tony an incredulous look. For his part, Tony was trying to ignore the video playing on the TV, but the wide smiles on Peter's, Steve's, and Rhodey's own faces made up for his lack of enthusiasm.

Tony patted his arm and then pointed his hand again. This time, the armpiece of his suit shot towards him and attached to his hand. It spread up his arm and shoulder. With a grin, Tony pointed his other arm, and the second piece attached and spread.

He laughed and said, “Alright, I think we got this. Send ‘em all.”

“This is when it gets good, Peter,” Rhodey said.

A leg piece flew over and attached neatly, but the second flew past and crashed into the glass cage holding one of the previous model suits. Another flew towards Tony, and he barely managed to deflect it before it hit him.

Now, Peter was shaking with laughter, and Tony was watching him fondly, apparently over his embarrassment and now enjoying the pleasure his son—that was still so strange to Rhodey—was feeling.

On the video, Tony’s slightly strained voice said, “Probably a little fast. Slow it down. Slow it down just a...”—before he could finish, another piece of suit shot towards him, and he had to duck it, leaving it to skim over his head—"...little bit.”

“Here comes the best bit,” Rhodey said.

A piece attached to Tony's back, making him arch forwards, and then the second slammed into his crotch, making his legs buckle and eyes widen.

Peter was positively roaring with laughter now, and Tony’s instruction of, “Cool it, will you, Jarvis?” was lost among the sound.

The Tony on the screen was assaulted by pieces until there was only the faceplate remaining. He scowled at it and said, “Come on. I ain’t scared of you.”

“This is the best bit,” Tony said, grinning now. “Watch a master at work, Pete.”

Peter fixed his eyes on the screen and cheered obligingly as Tony flipped and grabbed the piece, placing it neatly over his face and standing up, the suit fully assembled.

“I’m the best,” he said smugly, and then a stray piece shot towards him, knocking him on his ass and making the suit fall away until only his headpiece remained.

With smugness that Vision had not inherited, Jarvis said, “As always, sir, a great pleasure watching you work.”

The TV turned off, and Peter wiped at his eyes, which were streaming with mirth-filled tears.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," he said. "I shouldn't have laughed, but that was—" he chuckled, “pretty funny.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is hilarious, Queens,” Steve said. “I can’t believe I’ve not seen that before.”

“You’ve not seen it because I never thought my best friend would betray me like that,” Tony grumbled, but he was clearly enjoying Peter’s happiness.

“Aww, poor Tone,” Rhodey said with mock sympathy. “You a little embarrassed.”

“Nope,” Tony said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re forgetting that, even though I ended up on my ass, that video demonstrated my genius since it was a suit I invented that did it.”

“That’s true,” Peter said with obvious sincerity. “That was incredible, Mr. Stark.”

Tony beamed at him. “Thanks, Pete. It’s nice to have someone of equal genius admire my invention.”

Peter blushed and muttered, “No, not equal,” but Tony cut him off.

“I say what I mean, and I mean what I say. You’re a genius, kid. Now, let’s leave the academically challenged people in the room while you change out of that suit then we can get to work in the lab.”

Peter nodded, downed his soda, and got to his feet.

“Academically challenged?” Rhodey asked with a quirked brow. “I seem to remember being right next to you at graduation from MIT, Tony.”

Tony grinned and winked. “Oh, I remember. And I know what I owe you for getting me to that day.”

Rhodey saw the sincerity in his eyes, and he smiled. He and Tony went back further than anyone left alive in their mismatched family, and he knew Tony was only teasing.

What they had was solid, and the fact Tony was sharing his kid with him now showed just how much.

Chapter Text

Tony took the lead into the common room of the compound, hands held above his head with victory and voice loud as he said, “Come see what my kid did to Captain America!”

The eyes of those in the room—Sam, Bucky, Wanda, and Clint—turned to see, and Steve plodded in, his eyes now spectacularly bruised.

“Peter did that to you?” Bucky asked incredulously.

Steve nodded. “Broke my nose.”

“What did you do to piss him off?” Sam asked, a little warily.

“Nothing!” Tony said defensively. “God, Sam! They were sparring. It was a mistake.” He smirked. “An awesome mistake.”

Bucky was watching Sam, his eyes narrowed, and he said, “Nothing anyone could do to Peter is going to end with him giving them a black eye, Sam.”

Sam looked a little uncomfortable. “Well, how would I know?”

“Bucky’s right,” Steve said. “The worst Queens would ever do is dump you on a planet with horrible living conditions in revenge. He wouldn’t use violence.”

“So, he’s some kind of saint?” Wanda asked, then went on when Tony glowered at her. “I’m not doubting you. I’m just surprised. Is he really that tame?”

“Not tame,” Tony said, walking around the couch and sitting on the arm beside Bucky. “He just doesn’t like hurting people.”

“He has killed,” Bucky admitted, sounding troubled. “But they were aliens.”

“He’s right.,” Tony said. “On the battlefield in 2023, Peter used a setting of his suit—Instant Kill—to deal with the aliens. Apart from that, I’ve never seen him aim to hurt anyone. He’s not a saint, far from it, but he is good.”

Clint frowned. “It’s kinda hard to imagine someone that… pure.”

“Not pure,” Steve corrected. “Just good. He’s young, which helps, but it’s more than that—he’s Worthy.”

There was movement in the corner as Vision drifted through the wall. Tony lifted a hand in greeting and said, "Hey, Vis. You… Mind?" He recognized the different eyes at the last moment, and his heart skipped with thoughts of news from Peter.

Mind nodded. “Hello again.”

“How’s Peter?” Bucky asked at once.

“Healing,” Mind said. “His spinal injury appears to be completely healed now. I did not come for that, though. Peter wanted me to speak to Steve.”

Steve huffed a laugh and shook his head. “If he sent you to give me an apology, I don’t need it. It was an accident.”

Mind shook his head. “That is part of why he wanted me to speak to you, but he also wanted to pass on a request that you do it again.”

“He wants to break Steve’s nose again?” Rhodey asked incredulously.

“No,” Mind said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “He wants you to train him. If things progress as we all hope, if Peter is Worthy and has The Stones, he needs to be prepared for combat. We, The Stones, will be teaching him what we know when we take him away, but it would be better if Peter was trained physically, too.”

Steve was nodding, and he opened his mouth to answer, but Tony spoke over him, a question stirring in his mind. “Peter told me something about that. He said he had to go away with you, but he seemed upset about it. Why?”

Mind frowned. “I’m not sure he’d want me to tell you.”

Tony frowned. “Which means you have to tell me. Peter is my son—I have a right to know.”

Mind appeared to consider a moment, and then he said, “For Peter, it will be a long time. Space told him it would be a lifetime and an hour.”

“How does that work?” Rhodey asked.

"Peter will be outside time and reality. He will be with us as long as he needs to be, learning how to harness us for war, forever if necessary. However, for the people he leaves behind, it will be an hour."

Tony sucked in a breath. “Damn. That’s… Does it have to take that long? How the hell is he going to handle that. He’ll lose his mind being away that long.”

“He won’t,” Mind said serenely. “Peter is strong.”

Tony felt a heavy weight in his gut as he processed the horror of what Peter was going to suffer through. It was hard enough for Tony to be away from him and Morgan now, at least the Peter he was supposed to be. How would Peter handle being gone for that long? How could he do that and not lose his mind, no matter how strong he was?

“That’s a whole lot of pressure on a kid,” Rhodey said, brow furrowed and the light that had been there when they were with Peter gone from his eyes.

“Peter is not a kid,” Mind said. “He’s much more than that.”

Rhodey stared at him a moment. “You know, I thought these Stones would be a great thing for Peter, knowing what he was able to do with them—saving Nat and Vision. But it seems to me it’s a huge amount of trouble for him to deal with.”

Mind smiled slightly. “Peter agreed at first. He wanted us to leave him, and then he wanted to die to avoid the fate Thor had foreseen with him. It took him time and suffering, but he accepted and embraced us. You cannot understand as you do not know him as who he is, but Peter is happy to have us now as it enables him to help and protect the people he cares about along with the rest of the universe.”

Rhodey looked away, brow furrowed still.

Steve seemed to be struggling for something to say, to lift the mood of the room, perhaps, looking around. "Where's Nat?" he asked.

Sam shook his head as if dispelling something. "She's waiting outside for T'Challa. He called and said he was close. He needs to talk to us.”

His own dour thoughts of what his son faced leaving him, Tony smiled. "That's good. He's had his proof now, so hopefully, he's here to help."

“He’s got to be,” Clint said. “He’s seen you were telling the truth. Speaking as someone that didn’t get a visit from the kid in my darkest moment and yet accepts it with crazy eyes talking over there, the hurricane has got to be enough.”

“He is coming now,” Mind said, eyes moving to the window.

Tony looked out and saw the jet descending and landing, the door opening, and Natasha greeting T'Challa with an extended hand. He shook it, said something that made Natasha nod, and then they disappeared from view.

“You sticking around for this, Mind?" Tony asked. "Or does Pete need a break?"

“No, he has enough energy for this, and if he does not, he will take me back.”

Tony nodded, then walked forward to greet T'Challa as he entered the room with Natasha and looked around at them all.

“T’Challa,” Tony said, extending a hand which T’Challa shook. “Thanks for coming.”

“It was no trial to come,” T’Challa said. “I needed to speak to you all. I saw your proof.”

“Do you want to sit?” Natasha asked.

T’Challa nodded and moved around the couch to sit on an armchair. They all took their own seats, and then there was an expectant silence in which T’Challa rubbed his chin.

“I now see you are telling the truth,” he said. “Though it is an incredible truth, and I am daunted by what is coming for us. I have spoken to Okoye, told her what you said and what I know, and she agrees that the Dora Milaje will step up training to deal with a different kind of combat.”

"That's good," Steve said. "We're going to be doing that same thing for ourselves. Some of us have faced the Chitauri before, but not all, and it is a different kind of combat from what we usually do. Also, the Chitauri aren't the only aliens coming. There were these others that we don't even have a name for, which were animalistic and fierce fighters."

“Outriders,” Mind said, drawing their attention to him. “They are mindless savages.”

“We noticed,” Bucky said.

T’Challa stared at Mind, seeming to be puzzling something out, and Tony decided to explain for him.

“T’Challa, this is Mind,” he said, gesturing. “The actual sentience of the Mind Stone, speaking through Vision.”

T’Challa blinked and then nodded. “Yes, I thought there was something different. So, you are their path of connection between the boy with power and The Avengers.”

“I am the connection between Peter and 2016,” he corrected. “Through Vision, who bears my gem now, I can communicate for Peter and myself. Also, I represent the other Infinity Stones.”

“Yeah?” Tony said with a raised eyebrow. “Any message from Power?” 

Mind smiled. “None you need to hear apart from the fact you should carry on with what you’re doing and prepare yourself for what must happen.”

Tony glowered. “We plan to.”

Mind looked back to T’Challa. “Peter is glad you are now part of the mission.”

T’Challa smiled slightly. “As worrying as it is to know this threat is coming, it is better for me to know, as therefore I can prepare my people." He looked away to Bucky and said, "I would like to make my offer to you again. You can come to Wakanda and live as a free man."

Bucky didn’t hesitate before answering. “I can’t.”

“Because of Peter?” T’Challa asked.

“That’s part of it,” Bucky replied. “But another part is that I'm needed here. There was an… incident recently. The programming we thought was gone was triggered again. We dealt with it," he rushed on, "I'm not under their control now, and the power of the trigger words has been disarmed, but through it, we have a connection to the enemy. When they triggered me, they told me my job was to report on The Avengers. I need to be here to do that.”

“You have a way to contact the enemy?” T’Challa asked, eyebrows high. “Well, that’s quite an advantage you have. Of course, you should be here. I can, perhaps, help. My sister is technologically minded, like you, Mr. Stark, and she can perhaps assist you in tracing where the communication is coming from."

Bucky smiled slightly. “You’re underselling Shuri. She’s a technological genius.”

T’Challa looked surprised. “You know my sister?”

Bucky’s smile grew to a grin. “Yes, she is, or will be, my friend. When I was living with you in Wakanda, she visited me often.”

“I see. Well, yes, she is a genius, and I am certain the people contacting you will be using technology to make the calls untraceable. I know that is something you can perhaps defeat yourself, Mr. Stark, but if you need our help, Shuri will be available.”

“Thank you,” Tony said. “We’ll probably need her. I’m aware of just how capable she is. I’m already working on a better tracing program, though.”

T’Challa nodded. “Very well. I am aware there is little I can do, as the pressure is on you to support Peter until the time comes, but I am available for whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” Steve said. “We’ll take you up on that, I’m sure.”

T’Challa smiled and said, “There is something else I wanted to ask. You seem sure this boy is good, and he is facing a large threat in 2023 in the form of this Nemesis, so what happens if you are not successful in your mission to make him worthy of The Stones? How will we defeat this enemy without his power?”

Tony froze. He’d not thought to ask that question. He now saw that it was something they all should have asked. Without Peter and The Stones, they would be helpless. His eyes snapped to Mind, who was staring out of the window.

“Well?” he asked. “What happens if we don’t have Pete and you?”

Mind seemed to need to drag his eyes to meet Tony’s, and when he spoke, the words seemed to fall heavily from him.

"If Peter does not possess the other Stones and I, Nemesis will not come as she will not be freed."

“What?” Rhodey said roughly. “How the hell does that work?”

Mind closed his eyes and spoke quietly enough that they had to focus to hear him. "Peter does not know this, and we will never allow him to know; you must accept that we would fight back if one of you tried to tell him, as we do not want him to bear the burden of this knowledge. However, it was through his actions that the chance for Ego to escape the Ultraverse came.”

“Wait, what?” Sam said. “Something he did released this huge threat?”

Mind nodded, eyes cast down. “We did not know it would happen. There has never been a person like Peter before, and we’ve never connected to anyone. But some of his actions, changing the natural order, created the opening for her to be free. They weakened the barriers between worlds.”

Tony gaped at him. How could this have happened? How could they have not known?

Peter could never be told this. It would destroy him to know he put the world at risk.

“It was me, wasn’t it?” Natasha asked. “What Peter did for me—and Vision and Gamora? When he brought us back, he somehow freed Ego?”

Mind nodded. "It was not something we foresaw, or we would never have allowed him to do it. In truth, we encouraged him to do it. We had no idea it would end like this."

“So, the world would be better off if I was dead,” Natasha stated.

“No!” Clint growled. “It wouldn’t.”

Natasha shot him a withering look. “You heard the same thing I heard, Clint. You know it would.”

“It’s too late,” Mind said. “You are alive now. Peter cannot change it, even if he knew, if he was to change his own path, Ego would be free. She is too powerful to be trapped again by that.”

“So, what must happen to her?” T’Challa asked. “If everything goes as we all wish, if the boy meets the challenge and is worthy, how will he defeat her?”

“He will have to trap her again,” Mind said. “He will have to find the strength and control to trap her back in the Ultraverse. It will be…" He massaged his temples. "I need to go back; Peter is weary, but he wishes to speak to you first."

“Peter does?” Tony asked hopefully. “Because I can go grab the glasses, and he can come." He'd love that. He wanted a chance to speak to his son himself.

“No,” he said, and this time it was not the mild tones of Mind speaking—it was someone rougher and with a scathing undertone. “Me.”

“Power?” Bucky said, voice a growl.

“Yep. Good to see you again, Sarge,” Power said. “I don’t have long, which I know will upset you all as you love chatting to me.” His lips quirked into a snide smile. “I just wanted to warn you. If any of you let Peter know how Ego was set free, I will make you pay.”

“Why would we ever tell him?” Steve asked. “We care about him, too. None of us would willingly hurt him like that.”

He nodded. “Good. Because I am eternal, imaginative, and patient. You hurt the kid like that, I swear you’ll regret it.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the threat in the air like a visible thing, and then fell back with a groan. He massaged his temples, eyes still closed, then opened them, and Vision, it was clearly him, said, "Peter sends his regards to you all and apologizes for whatever Power said.”

“He doesn’t know?” Tony asked, breath catching.

Vision shook his head. “No. Power would not tell him. Peter tried to stop him coming at all, but you know what a forceful personality he is.”

“Yeah,” Steve said darkly. “We know.”

“How is Peter?” Bucky asked.

Vision smiled. "He seems well but tired. You know, I do enjoy speaking with him, despite disconcerting as it is to find myself pushed and pulled out of my body."

Tony smiled as he thought of his son, “Yeah, you would. He’s a special kid.”

An uncomfortable silence spread over the room as they all processed what Mind had told them, as some of them thought of what it would do to Peter if he knew, and then Friday interrupted it.

“Boss,” she said. “You wanted me to tell you when Peter activated Karen. He has.”

The strained atmosphere broke, and Tony grinned. "Great. T'Challa, you can't meet Peter yet, but would you like to get a feel for the kid?"

“I would like that very much,” T’Challa said. “How will I?”

“Set him up on the TV, Friday,” Tony said. “I want audio and mask cam.”

The TV switched on, and they saw Peter's reflection in a mirror displayed as his eager voice said, "Seriously? I’ve got my own AI! This is so cool!"

xXx

When Peter got home from the Tower, he found a note from May telling him she’d been called in to cover a double-shift and would not be home until morning.

Disappointed and sad that she had to take a double shift which would exhaust her, Peter fixed himself a dinner of ramen and hot dogs and then went into his bedroom to prepare for patrol—for the first time, in his new suit.

He stripped down and then pulled on the suit, tapping the chest to make it wrap tight around his body, and he pulled on the mask and then checked himself in the mirror. It was even more incredible than he remembered. He looked like a real superhero now, which was crazy— he knew he wasn't, but it was what he looked like.

“Mr. Stark is a genius,” he said to his reflection.

“I think so, too,” a voice replied.

Peter started so much his feet left the floor. “Whoa, what? Who said that?”

“I did,” the voice replied. “My name is Karen.”

"Okay," Peter said slowly. "And you are…."

“I am your personal AI. I have been created to assist you on your patrols and to form a line of emotional support if required.”

Peter started again, and he stared at his masked face with its wide eyes. "Seriously? I’ve got my own AI! This is so cool!"

“I think so, too,” Karen replied. “Now, as you are in the suit, should I assume we’re going on patrol?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Peter said. “Wow. I can’t believe he did this for me. Wait! Will he get in trouble for this? I thought the Sokovia Accords said they couldn't create new AIs like Ultron.”

“I am not like Ultron,” Karen said, sounding slightly offended. “I am not capable of independent thought in the same way. My programming for the protection of life is much more stringent and multifaceted than Ultron’s. I am not a threat.”

“No, yeah, I mean, of course. Mr. Stark wouldn’t do that again. And I’m happy to have you. Really. It’s nice to meet you, Karen.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Peter,” she said. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yep, totally.” Peter slid open his window and emerged onto the wall, unseen thanks to the broken light behind his apartment. He scaled the roof, then shot out a web and began to swing.

Swinging now was even better than he could have imagined. It was even faster without the resistance of his old, baggy suit. He felt like he was really flying now. He let himself just enjoy it for a while, and then he focused himself and listened for sounds of trouble which he could assist with. He could hear nothing other than the usual bustle of Queens, though.

“Peter, there is a drug deal being made in the alley beside the Harper’s Homeware store,” she said. “It seems to be a focus of potential violence, as the buyer does not have money but does have a gun.

“How do you know that?” Peter asked.

“I have a partial view from the security camera on the rear entrance,” she said. “Should we intervene?”

“Definitely,” Peter said, swinging into action and dropping down in the mouth of the alley.

He saw the two people, a woman, pale, shaky, and holding a gun she was bringing up to aim at him: a smartly dressed man, a gold watch on his wrist, and a gun tucked in the back of his pants.

He could see this becoming a disaster quickly, so he webbed away the woman’s gun, then as the man drew his, he webbed that towards himself, too, and said, “Hey, drugs are for losers. Haven’t you ever seen Captain America’s PSA’s?”

The two people gaped at him, and Peter grinned under the mask.

“Karen, I don’t suppose Mr. Stark set you up to call the police, did he?” he asked. “That guy’s pockets look pretty bulging, and I think they’d enjoy a good drugs bust.”

“The call has already been made, Peter,” she reported. “Good job.”

Peter beamed. When he saw Mr. Stark next, he was going to thank him for this. He thought the suit was amazing on its own, but he could see how much more good he could do with Karen.

Mr. Stark really was the best.

Chapter Text

Bucky was sitting on the kitchen floor, back against the fridge, throwing a ball against the opposite counter and catching it again. It was a pointless, stupid activity, but it was something to do.

He was bored. He was sick of being trapped in the compound. He couldn't even go out alone at night anymore unless someone went with him. He would be annoyed at the fact they didn't trust him if he didn't know he'd given them good reason not to.

Still, he was going crazy.

He wouldn’t go to Queens again. He’d been found there once by Zemo and wouldn’t risk it again. He didn’t want Zemo anywhere near Peter, though he didn’t think he had much control of that as Peter was apparently his target.

He missed Peter. He wanted to talk to him again. What he wanted more than anything was the version of Peter in 2023 that he loved most of all, but he would be happy with the 2016 version of him. More than once, he'd thought about going down to Tony's lab, finding the BARF glasses, and sitting and waiting until Peter came to talk to him again. The problem with that was that he thought Peter might be too weak to come still, and Bucky didn't want Peter hurting himself for him. 

“This is not a good look,” a voice said from the door.

Bucky been so lost in his dour thoughts that he’d not heard anyone coming in, and he turned to see Sam standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

“What?” Bucky asked.

Sam came deeper into the room, watching Bucky as he threw the ball again and caught it. “Are you going to go nuts and come after us all with an ax?”

Bucky scowled. “Is that a joke?”

Sam frowned and then huffed a laugh. “Huh. Well, I guess it is kinda if you know the context. It’s a scene from a horror movie. Jack Nicholson in The Shining. He goes nuts and goes after his wife and son with an ax. Before that, there’s a scene of him towing the ball in the hotel they’re in. That’s kinda who you look like. I guess you’ve not seen the movie?”

Bucky dropped the ball down onto his lap. “No, I’ve not seen it. Most of the movies I saw since the last defrost were Peter’s choices, and he’s more into Sci-Fi and fantasy than horror.”

“You’ll have to watch it. It’ll give you something to do instead of glowering around here and sulking.”

“I’m not sulking!” Bucky said irritably.

“No?”

Bucky sighed. This wasn't Sam, his friend—this was the Sam that had spent two years searching for him with Steve, fully aware that he could be the Winter Soldier still. Their bond had come later, and Sam wasn’t there yet.

Also, Sam had no idea what Bucky was missing as he didn’t know Peter.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said.

“Nope,” Sam said, boosting onto the counter and sitting with his heels tapping the cupboard door. “I wouldn’t. Hell, I don’t understand what any of you time travel people are going through. It's too crazy to put myself in your position, even though that's what I'm trained to do as a counselor. I know you miss this kid, and I know it's hardest for you since you can't see him at all. You obviously had a really strong bond where you're from."

“I do. We did,” Bucky said, a small smile of remembrance quirking his lips. “And now I can’t see him.”

“No, but you’ve got time. Way it’s looking, you’re all here for a while, and I’m sure Tony won’t keep you away from him for good. The kid already knows you’re here, doesn’t he? And he’s not going to say anything. Just give Tony time.”

“You think?” Bucky asked hopefully.

Sam smiled. “Damn, you’re really torn up about this thing. Yes, you’re going to see him. I think the kid will probably be the decider on that anyway. The kid I met back when he came to help me… Well, he’s not going to be holding back because Tony Stark says so.”

"That's not him, though. The version of Peter you met was the one that had The Stones, had embraced them, and had been through a lot that changed him, helped him grow. The Peter that's here right now is brand new, young."

“Maybe, but that’ll change,” Sam said, sliding off the counter. “Now, get off your ass and help me cook. Tony and Pepper are here for dinner, along with everyone else, so you and me might as well get started early.”

Bucky tucked the ball in his pocket and took Sam’s extended hand to haul him up. He went to the fridge and opened it, saying, “What were you thinking of making?”

"Tacos," Sam said. "They're easy enough, and everyone can fix them with what they want."

Bucky reached for the package of hamburger, then froze as the phone in his back pocket began to ring. He knew at once that it was not his own phone as Tony had been screwing with his ringtones, adding all kinds of stupid tracks like Robot Rock. This was a generic tone. He grabbed the flip phone Zemo had given him and took a breath.

“That’s the…” Sam trailed off.

Bucky nodded and said, “Stay quiet. Friday, record and track.” He opened the phone, brought it to his ear, and answered, “Barnes.”

“Soldier,” Zemo’s accented voice said. “Will you comply?”

Bucky took a breath and intoned, “Ready to comply.”

“Begin report.”

“I have little to report. The Avengers are in a holding pattern until more information comes about why they are here.”

“How will that information come?” Zemo asked.

“They don’t know. They are hoping Spider-Man will contact them somehow. He has not yet.”

Zemo made a sound like an aborted laugh. “Then they have no idea.”

"None. They know Spider-Man sent them for an important reason, but there was no time for him to communicate with them before they were sent. They assume there is some threat to the world they need to deal with. One theory is that they are here to stop Thanos. In the meantime, they are focusing on getting to know Spider-Man."

Zemo did laugh this time and said, as if to himself, "They will be helpless. The Commander will be so pleased.”

“Who is The Commander?” Bucky asked, unable to help himself, though the question was perhaps not one The Winter Soldier would ask.

“You may know in time. They do not want you to know yet. You cannot imagine who they are, though. Neither can The Avengers.”

“What are my orders?” Bucky asked, hoping he could get some tactical information while keeping Zemo on the line long enough for Friday to track him.

“Maintain surveillance. Report when required. You are not needed for more yet.”

Bucky felt his heart skip. If he was not needed for more yet, perhaps he would be one day, and then he would be able to gather useful information.

“Do they suspect you?” Zemo asked.

“No,” Bucky said firmly. “I am well trained and can pass as Bucky Barnes for them.”

“And who are you really?” Zemo asked, a smile in his voice.

“I am The Winter Soldier,” Bucky said, his tone inflectionless.

“Good.”

Before Bucky could say another word, the call had clicked off, and dead air had replaced Zemo’s voice.

Bucky lowered the phone to his side and said, “Friday, did you track it?”

“I did,” she replied. “Though I do not believe that is their true location. It routed through multiple locations to 890 Fifth Avenue.”

Bucky frowned. “That’s…”

“That’s the tower,” Sam supplied. “And we can be sure he’s not there.”

“Can we?” Bucky asked. “Friday, is he close to the tower?”

“No, Sergeant,” she replied. “The call source was the boss’ cell phone. It was a false trace.”

“That’s impressive tech,” Sam said. “Like Stark tech.”

Bucky massaged his chest with his metal hand and said, “It’s Stark tech or another genius. Tony’s not the only one.”

“No, who else can do stuff like him?”

“People with access to his patents and equipment. Basically, anyone that works for his R&D department.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You think Nemesis has a mole inside Stark Industries?”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know, but we need to tell Tony in case. They all need to know Zemo called. Friday, tell them all what happened. We’ll all talk when they get here.”

“Information has been passed on,” Friday reported. “Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff are on their way now. Miss Maximoff and Vision are within the grounds, but I have sent an alert to them. Boss says to tell you he and Miss Potts are leaving Manhattan now.”

“Good,” Bucky said. “Because we’re going to need them.

xXx

Zemo looked down at the man sitting at the desk with his four computer monitors displayed in front of him, each with pixelated images of traffic cameras and CCTV in front of him.

“Well, Beck? Where is the Asset?”

“He entered his apartment one hour ago,” Beck replied. “If he maintains pattern, he will leave for patrol within thirty minutes.”

“And how is the surveillance within The Avengers property access developing?”

Beck grimaced. “Nothing yet. Stark’s AI has a firewall I can’t breach.”

“You can’t breach it?” Zemo asked. “Then what use are you to me?” He took the gun from his pocket and clicked off the safety.

“I can’t breach it yet, “Beck corrected quickly. “I will, though. I have as much invested in this as you. I told you, Tony Stark—”

“Stole from you,” Zemo said, his tone biting. “You have told me many times. I do not care. The Commander wants access to video and audio of them. If you cannot do that for us, we have no use for you.”

“I will do it,” Beck promised.

“Good. Do not make me regret recruiting you. The Commander does not have a use for inferior intellect on our team.”

Beck glowered at the screen for a moment and then turned to Zemo with a deferential look. “I know. I will not fail you or The Commander. I will find access.”

“Good,” Zemo said. “I need to make my report to The Commander.”

Beck fixed his attention on the screens in front of him.

Zemo stared at him a moment. When he'd found Beck in a dive bar in Brooklyn, complaining loudly and drunkenly of the betrayal of Tony Stark, Zemo had thought he would make a good recruit for their cause with his technical know-how, but he had so far failed to deliver.

The Commander had said there was something they could do to create more obedience and motivation in him the way they had Zemo himself, though he did not know what that was as he was a devoted acolyte of Nemesis of his own free will. They said the decision was his to make, so Zemo would monitor Beck and make the decision if needed.

If Beck failed him, he would report to the Commander, and they would come.

Zemo wanted them to come. To bask in the presence of Nemesis was a joy beyond words.

He would wait and hope, not act without cause, as he knew his Commander did not share their true self with unworthy beings. Still, Zemo longed to see them again, craved it, almost like they were an addiction he could not resist.

Not that he had any desire to resist. To serve Nemesis was to live.

xXx

Happy stared up at Tony, his hands slack in his lap and his eyes wide. “Time travel?”

Tony nodded. “Time travel.”

“And the kid you’ve got me ferrying back and forth is your kid?”

“Not by blood, and not technically yet, at least not for him, but in every way that matters, he’s my son, yes.”

Happy ran a hand over his face. “You know, Boss, I’ve seen some crazy stuff working for you, but this tops it all.”

“You believe me?” Tony asked with a quirked eyebrow. “You don’t need proof? Everyone else needed proof. I can probably find some.”

Happy shook his head, a wry smile on his face. “You wouldn’t lie to me. Tony Stark around the millennium would—”No, Happy, I’ve never seen that woman before in my life. Bring the car around, and we’ll get out of here.””

“That’s a little unfair.”

Happy grunted a laugh. “You think? What about Tony in 2010? ‘No, Happy, I’m not in love with Pepper. Stop pushing me on this. We just work together’”

“Alright, you made your point, but that was all a long time ago. I am telling the truth now.”

“I know. But… Hell, Boss, that doesn't make this any less crazy. The kid who talks a mile a minute, talks to himself when I won't talk to him, will be some kind of all-powerful being with these crazy rocks that make him some kind of invincible savior of the universe. And there's going to be some huge battle that will kill half the universe before you do more time travel to bring them back. Crazy!"

“I notice you’re not arguing about the fact you’re going to love him one day.”

Happy’s brows furrowed. “No, not arguing, because I trust you, but I can’t see how the hell that’ll happen.”

“It will,” Tony assured him. “Anyway, that’s not what matters. Now you’re in the know, you can get to work. We might have a mole inside Stark Industries. I know you’re Asset Management now, and that’s great, but I need you to put your Head of Security pants on and investigate.”

Happy crossed his arms over his chest. “Is Pepper in on this? Because she made it crystal clear I can’t ‘bully’ the staff.” He made a face.

“Pepper is with me on this. She knows what’s at stake. Obviously, you can’t bully them, but you’ve got to be thorough.”

Happy brightened. “Do I get to run polygraph tests?”

Tony considered. “I’ll check with the lawyers first, but I don’t think that’s a bad idea. If there is someone, we’ve got to root them out. Ego, Nemesis, whichever we’re dealing with, is a huge threat. I’m not having someone under my own roof working with them.”

Happy got to his feet and rubbed his hands together. "I'll find them, no problem." He smiled slightly. "You really care about this kid, don’t you?”

“I love him,” Tony said solemnly. “He’s my son.”

Happy stared at him a moment, and then he said, "It's a good look on you, Boss."

“What is?”

"Fatherhood. Yeah, I can't quite see how it happened, but I believe it did. I'll give the kid a break, quit complaining. I want to actually get to know him if he's as important as you say."

Tony grinned. “You want to be Uncle Happy?”

“Hell no!” Happy said loudly. “I’m just saying I’ll start paying attention when he talks instead of tuning him out. I’m not going to be Uncle anything.”

Tony chuckled, knowing that wasn’t true. Perhaps he’d never be Uncle Happy to Peter, but one day he was going to meet Tony’s newborn daughter and introduce himself as that.

It was a long way away, Morgan was a long time away, but it would happen. He was going to have his family, he was going to see Peter declared Worthy, and then he was going back to the life he loved with the people he loved.

It was only a matter of time. 

xXx

Happy Hogan’s name was a joke.

During his boxing days, he’d been known as Hammer Hogan, and that'd been fine. He didn't like the name Harold and had punched more than one person for calling him Harry. Still, when Tony Stark had scooped him out of his downward spiral after his boxing days were over, given him a job as a bodyguard and something far more precious to him later — his friendship — Tony had quickly dubbed him Happy, and it had stuck.

Despite his manner and the contradiction of the name, Happy was actually quite content in his life. Tony had taken him on the ride of his life from that first meeting, both of them drunk, with travels across the world and Happy at his side as a bodyguard, to the months of terror-filled worry when Tony was kidnapped, the overwhelming relief when he came home, to Iron Man.

Sure, telling people you were Iron Man's bodyguard got a few laughs, but Happy adapted. When Pepper took over as CEO, Happy became her bodyguard, a far more satisfying and completely non-pointless endeavor. She'd made him Head of Security, then Tony made him Asset Manager, and Happy had a real career instead of just a job.

He liked his life.

Then Tony had asked him to drive him to Queens one day, which Happy thought was just an excuse to spend some time together which was lacking with Tony's new superhero friends, but then they'd picked up that kid, and it suddenly became Happy's responsibility to drive the kid back and forth twice a week.

At first, Happy had been pissed. He was not a driver anymore, and there were a dozen other people employed specifically for that job. But Tony asked, so Happy did. He still didn't understand it, though. What could Tony want from a fourteen-year-old boy?

Sure, the kid was smart; Happy figured that out fast from a few overheard conversations between him and Tony in which he understood only half of the words as common English and figured the rest was technobabble. He had worried Tony was using the kid to make things work with Pepper, as they were only just then getting back on the same page. But Tony’s response, the look in his eyes, made him see that couldn’t be it. But still, Happy had wondered.

He'd also wondered how Tony could have changed so much seemingly overnight. He was the same man Happy ever knew at times, smart, snarky, generous, but the guarded side was gone. Tony was suddenly open and… mature. Was it possible for a grown man to suddenly be declared mature? But that was the only word Happy could think of that matched the change. He couldn’t work it out, and he’d tried hard to sift through the changes and clues to get an answer.

Not that there was anything bad about the changes in Tony. On the contrary, they were great. They enabled him to show a side of himself to the world that very few people had ever seen before. Tony had always been judged—most of all by himself—but now he was open with his heart.

Which was apparently because he was a father now that was traveling from seven years in the future.

It was the last thing Happy had expected to be behind it, but he was far happier about it than he expected.

Peter Parker was… Well, he was a pain in the ass.

He talked, God, he talked, like words had been rationed all day, and he needed to use them all in the ride from his school to the tower. And he fidgeted, his hands tapping out a beat or fiddling with his shirt in a way that made Happy want to smack his hands and tell him to just sit the hell still. Sure, he was brilliant; Tony raved about the things they did in the lab together, about how smart the kid was and how good. Happy saw now that was a father talking about his only son.

He'd said it, and he'd meant it—fatherhood was a good look on Tony.

And time travel. Sure, Happy had seen some crazy stuff happen with Tony, but the idea that he was from seven years in the future and had been sent back by the rambling kid who was apparently the most powerful person in the universe in 2023 was a lot to wrap your head around.

Happy wondered if Peter talked as much in 2023 as he did now.

But now, he wanted to know Peter. Usually, when he picked him up, he made sure the kid’s seat belt was fastened and then tuned his voice out for the majority of the ride, but that was going to change. If this kid was Tony’s son, that made him Happy’s family, too, and family was important.

It wasn’t going to be easy—because the kid really could be a pain in the ass—but Happy was going to dedicate some time to the kid, knowing him and building something with him.

But he was absolutely not going to let the kid call him Uncle Happy.

He had limits.

Chapter Text

Steve could see that Tony was struggling to control his grin as they sat around the conference table, copies of The Accords in front of them all with many strikethroughs and additions in red ink.

Ross was speaking, his voice mild and calm, but Steve knew this had to be killing him. Ross had fought for these Accords, though he’d hidden his passion for them with a blank mask and feigned disinterest, and The Avengers were finally coming out on the other side with the changes they wanted made. It had taken months, they were now basking in the heat of late July, but it finally looked good for them.

If this meeting went the way they all hoped, it would be the last before they gathered to see them formally ratified. Tony had his pens ready for them to sign, the FDR ones he’d once tried to persuade Steve to use to sign The Accords with the first time they lived through this year.

Steve was happy to sign this time.

“One more thing,” T’Challa said. “The rule about underage heroes. Wakanda is in full support of the addition that makes it law for them to be able to maintain anonymity until they come of age.”

Ross’ lip twitched. “Are there any underage superheroes that should sign?”

“None,” Tony said. “I can guarantee that we know of no minors that think they’re superheroes.”

That was pure truth. Peter was hyperaware of the perceived difference between him and them. They all saw him as the hero he was, but according to what Tony told them and what Steve had seen, Peter thought himself very much inferior to them.

“Very well,” Ross said. “Are we all in agreement?” He looked from face to face of the twelve representatives of The Accords nations which had been chosen to negotiate with them.

“Why do minors need protection?” Vasily, the Russian, asked.

“It’s just a safety measure,” Tony said smoothly. “You’ve seen the publicity and scrutiny we live with. None of us want that for a child.”

‘Besides,” Bennett said, “what child is capable of these actions?”

“None,” Ross said firmly.

Tony’s eyes narrowed a moment, but he quickly corrected.

It was hard for those of them on this particular journey back through 2016 to have Peter’s potential in this dismissed because of his age, as they all knew what he was capable of and what he would do, but they had to live with the discomfort and move past it. It was to protect Peter that they were doing this.

They were lucky T'Challa had seen his proof and come to their side, as he was pivotal in improving their situation. Many of the nations respected him and his opinion, and the others were persuaded eventually that this was the right thing. Some countries had taken more persuasion than others, Great Britain and Germany among them, but they'd come around.

“I have no objection,” Larsson, the Swedish representative, said.

The other assembled representatives murmured their agreement.

“In that case, we can have them reprinted with the alterations and additions and ready for signing next week,” Ross said, getting to his feet and putting his copy back into his briefcase. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your time.”

He strode out of the room, head held high, and his peers followed him, leaving Steve and the other Avengers with T’Challa sitting at the table wearing matching expressions of incredulous delight.

“So, it’s over?” Clint asked. “Just like that? We’re free?”

“We’re free to act within the US, but outside the country, we need permission."

“Which we won’t need,” T’Challa said. “The threat you say is posed will come to New York and Wakanda. You have open permission to come to and act in Wakanda for any reason, and New York is within your territory.” He rubbed his chin. “I think we’ve won.”

“We have,” Tony said with a laugh. “Is it wrong that I wanted Ross to fight a little harder? I really wanted to pound it to him when we got the changes made.”

Steve shook his head, amused. “We should be grateful he didn’t; it would have slowed us down. Really, T’Challa, it was you that swung this for us. We can’t thank you enough.”

“It was worth the trouble of registering and opening myself to analysis and registration as the Black Panther for this result,” T’Challa said.

“I think that’s part of what swung it for us,” Natasha said. “You are one of them, T’Challa, part of their power core. If they can see you as a superhero, it makes it a bit easier for them to accept us as having rights, too.”

"You may be right,” T’Challa conceded. “I am glad it's over, though. I do not like leaving Wakanda so often, though it was my father's wish that we came out of the shadows and joined the world. I will fulfill his wishes. I plan to start that joining on a more personal level. I want to make right what happened to N'Jadaka by helping other children in his home."

“That’s great,” Steve said enthusiastically. “It doesn’t have to be huge. Small things make a difference, too.”

“What’s happening with Killmonger?” Tony asked. “I mean N'Jadaka.

"His trial begins in two weeks. He will be tried for attempted regicide, as he is Wakandan by blood, so my father was his king. Though his guilt is obvious, he is pleading not guilty, so it will be a process for us to face to bring justice.”

“Yeah, that’s gotta be tough,” Tony said. “Well, thanks for giving us your time while you have all that going on.”

T’Challa smiled and rose to his feet. “I need to return home now, but I will see you in Vienna for the ceremony.”

He said his goodbyes and strode out.

“He’s going back to Vienna?” Sam said when T’Challa’s footsteps had faded. “I’m not sure I could do that  after what happened there, not it if was me.”

“He’s strong,” Steve said, his voice knowledgeable with familiarity. “And there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for Wakanda or his father’s legacy. He felt, before, that he had a lot to make up for after what his father did.”

Tony nodded dourly. “Yeah, I get that.”

Steve knew Tony could relate as his life was littered with things he felt he needed to make amends for. Some of them were deserved, Tony had made mistakes, but not all of them. Tony tended to take responsibility for things outside his control.

"I don't know about you," Clint said, "but I want a drink, a strong one. This has all taken too damn long, and I want to celebrate."

“Absolutely,” Sam said eagerly. “I’ll pour.”

They all rose to their feet and headed back to the common room where Tony and Sam headed straight to the drink’s cabinet, and everyone else fetched themselves glasses. Tony sent a message through Friday for Bucky to join them, and he arrived a moment later, apparently having been waiting close by.

Tony opened a bottle of tequila and said, “You guys remember the party after the press conference?”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah. That was a good night.”

“Press conference?” Clint asked. “That’s a 2023 thing, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “We had to go up in front of the press to support Ellis’ reputation and boost public morale. We got all the people that fought with us up on a stage and got medals.”

“And after,” Bucky said with a wide smile, “Peter and Thor got into a drinking contest.”

Sam looked up from the glass Tony was pouring tequila into for him. “A kid was drinking with Thor? How the hell did he survive that?”

Tony smiled fondly. “He was fine, but Thor was wasted.”

“Yep,” Bucky said, taking his shot from the tray. “And he lifted Mjölnir!”

Sam and Clint’s heads snapped up, their eyes wide and incredulous, but Wanda and Vision didn’t look surprised. Perhaps they’d heard—and for Vision seen—enough about Peter now that there were no more surprises for them.

“Seriously?” Clint asked.

Tony smiled smugly. “Yep, he had no problems.”

“Steve can lift it, too,” Bucky said, nudging his friend with a fist.

“Damn,” Sam said. “Didn’t see that coming.”

When everyone had a drink in their hand, Tony set down the bottle, raised his glass, and said, "To winning!"

“To winning,” they chorused and knocked back their shots.

Clint held his glass to his chest and said, “You know, I wouldn’t have minded retiring, not really, but I’m damn glad I didn’t need to.”

“You said that last time,” Natasha said. “And then you showed up for battle and ended up under house arrest. Really, Clint, you were a dumbass.”

Steve fixed his eyes on his empty glass, thinking of that fight. In some ways, he knew he was right to do what he did in what the press called The Avengers Civil War, but in others, he'd been wrong. He should have stopped to talk, to explain. He'd been consumed with protecting Bucky, and that made him reckless and harmful. He’d hurt people he cared about doing it.

One of the things he regretted most about that fight was Rhodey's injury, which had now been averted. He was not paralyzed anymore, fine on his own two feet, which was one of the best things to come out of this return to 2016.

He wondered how it would be for Rhodey in 2023. If he knew already that Peter had helped them save him from that, or if it was still to come. Mind said time wasn't moving forwards for them now, so he might not know.

Whenever it happened, Steve knew Rhodey was going to be elated by the change.

Tony poured them more drinks, his eyes distant and the smile on his face fond, and Steve guessed he was thinking of Peter and what this meant for him. They had successfully protected him from The Accords now, and that was big. Though Ross hadn’t targeted him in 2016 before, there was always a chance he would, and Peter would soon be making noise with the events of The Vulture.

He was protected, though, safe from prosecution, and they just had to see him through another two months before they could all throw themselves into being there for him fully, one trial left to face.

It was going to be hard for them all to watch him go through the events of September again, the warehouse collapse and plane crash, but after that, there was nothing they couldn’t do for him—they had Mind’s promise.

One more period of pain and distance, and then they would be able to support him and love him without barriers.

Steve couldn’t wait.

xXx

Happy was taking his time to get to know Peter. After years of staying locked down when outside his small circle of family, so unused to being open, it was hard, but it was happening.

At first, he just rode with the divider down and tried to listen to the kid when he was rambling, which had obviously surprised Peter. That wasn’t enough, though, as Happy didn’t ask his own questions, so when he picked him up the Saturday after The Avengers had gone to Vienna to sign the finalized Accords, he got there early and went up to Peter’s apartment to collect him.

The door was opened by a woman with long dark hair, dark brown eyes, and a soft smile.

Happy was used to beautiful women, he’d steered Tony away from them for years, but they’d had no appeal to him—too groomed and fake. Pepper was what he called a real woman—beautiful, kind, and natural in her looks. She was the best thing to ever happen to Tony.

But this woman… This woman was stunning in a way that seemed naturally effortless and wholesome.

She pushed her glasses up her nose and said, “Mr. Hogan, right?”

“Happy,” he corrected, holding out a hand. “Happy is fine.”

She took his hand, and he noted how soft and smooth her skin was, how warm her touch. “Nice to meet you at last, Happy. Peter talks about you a lot.”

What he had to say, Happy had no idea. Unless he told her how Happy had refused to speak to him for weeks, which Happy didn’t want this woman to know.

“I’m May Parker,” she said. “Come on in. Peter’s just getting ready.”

"I'm early. He‘s got time."

She led him into a homely living room, with family photos, blankets draped over the back on the couch—even in July—and a strange smell in the air.

"Excuse the smell," she said, possibly noting his wrinkled nose. "I tried to make these fancy omelets for Peter, but they were a disaster."

“I can’t smell anything,” Happy lied.

She smiled sweetly at him, her eyes crinkling, and called, “Peter, your ride is here.”

Peter came into the room, his eyes worried. “Happy, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. I guess I lost track of time.”

“I’m early,” Happy said. “I figured I’d come up and get you instead of sitting in the car with the AC running down the battery. It’s a scorcher out there.”

“It is,” May said. “I've been to the building's manager about our AC again, but he's not shown up yet."

"I told you I could fix it," Peter said. "I'm good at that stuff, May."

She ran her fingers through his hair, and he leaned into the touch, a sweet moment Happy felt he should look away from but didn’t. “I think you might have to,” she said. “When it hits noon, I’m going to roast.”

“I thought you were going out for lunch with your friends,” Peter said.

“I invited them over here.”

Peter grimaced. “You should go out and treat yourself,” he said. “You’ll enjoy it more if you don’t have to cook.”

She considered and nodded. “You know what, sweetie, I think you’re right. I will.”

Peter looked relieved, which puzzled Happy. However, before he could find out why, Peter grabbed his backpack from the couch and said, “I’m ready.”

May kissed him goodbye, and Peter led Happy out of the apartment.

They walked to the elevator and entered, and Peter said, "I can't believe this was fixed at last. It took like a year of complaining to get it done. It's great because some of our neighbors are elderly, and May is so tired when she comes home from work ."

Happy nodded obligingly, but he was smiling. He knew Tony had a hand in the repair as he’d overheard him making a call to the building’s manager offering a sizable tip for the job being done. He’d not understood why he’d bother initially, but now that he understood the relationship between Tony and Peter, he got it.

They headed out to the car, and when Peter walked to the back door, Happy said, “Sit in the front today, kid. I’m tired of looking at you in the mirror.

Peter looked surprised but pleased, and he climbed into the front.

Happy settled in the front seat, started the engine, then turned on the stereo, and Crossroads Blues started to play.

Peter frowned and said, “Who is this?”

“Robert Johnson,” Happy said. “And he was a god, so you don’t get to complain.”

“Not complaining. I’ve just never heard it before. It’s good.”

Happy nodded, pleased, and steered them into traffic. “I know Tony is all about classic rock, but I’ll educate you on the real greats.”

Peter settled in his seat, looking content.

Happy took a breath and said, "Okay, kid, tell me what you've been doing lately," in an attempt to set him on one of his rambling talks, which he would actually pay attention to now in an effort to work out what made this kid tick.

"Well, the brace I made for my best friend's grandma is much better now Mr. Stark let me work on it with his tools, and she's talking about dancing now, and me and Ned went to…."

Happy listened to him ramble, nodding when Peter stopped for breath, and tried to keep up with the babble.

He wanted to know Tony's son, find out how they'd grown to have that relationship, and maybe start building his own.

xXx

“Okay, kid,” Happy said, walking him through the lobby and watching as Peter swiped his security card, “I’ll leave you here. Friday will tell you where Tony is. Have him call me when you’re ready to go home.”

“Thanks, Happy,” Peter said cheerfully.

Happy waved and went to the elevators, which led to the office parts of the tower. Peter went to the private elevator, the only one that went all the way to Tony's personal floors, and Friday greeted him with, “Good morning, Peter. Boss is waiting for you in the penthouse with Miss Potts.”

Peter grinned. “Okay. Great.”

The elevator slid smoothly up, and the doors dinged open into the penthouse. Peter called a greeting, and Tony called back, "In here, kid,” from the kitchen.

Peter went in and saw Pepper was sitting at the counter, a magazine in front of her, dressed in yoga pants and a vest. Tony was wearing his Kiss the Cook apron and stirring a skillet of eggs on the stove.

“Breakfast,” he said, spreading his arms expansively. "We've got eggs, sausage, pancakes, and bacon. Fill a plate, and I'll bring the eggs as soon as they're done."

Peter grabbed a plate and served himself to reasonable-sized portions. As hungry as he usually was, he'd already attempted to eat May's gooey omelets for breakfast—with liberal amounts of ketchup—so he wasn't starving.

Pepper greeted him and asked how his week had been, as he hadn't seen her since the weekend before. He filled her in on the time he'd spent with Ned, the decathlon practice they’d had in the library—omitting the fact Flash had greeted every one of Peter’s correct answers with a sarcastic, “Good job, Penis.”  He told her about patrolling the evening before and how he and Karen had interrupted an armed robbery in a jewelry store, and how the cops had been less scathing than usual for his help.

“The suit working out okay?” Tony asked, turning and tipping eggs onto their plates.

“Yeah, it’s amazing,” Peter said, as he did each time Tony asked this question, which was frequently. “Thank you again.”

Tony waved a hand, filled his plate, and took a seat on Peter’s other side. “No problem, kid. I’m just glad you’ve got some real protection in place now.”

They ate in comfortable silence, and then Tony said, "I got a package yesterday, Pete, from Wakanda."

Peter’s head snapped to him, his forkful of eggs forgotten midway to his mouth. “The vibranium?”

Tony nodded. “Yep. We can finally get working with vibranium and nanites.”

“Wow,” Peter said. “That’s awesome.”

“And T’Challa sent enough for me to upgrade Bucky’s arm. He was working out okay with the alloy one I made him, but vibranium is better than what I’ve got.”

“Can I help?” Peter asked.

He was eager to do some work on the arm as it was way more complex than the brace he’d made for Ned’s grandmother, with a level of nerve connection and sensation which Peter had never imagined was possible.

“I’m counting on it,” Tony said. “I need your mind in on this.”

Peter knew he was overstating it, as there really wasn’t anything he could do that Tony couldn’t, but he was excited.

“What about you, Pep?” Tony asked. “Busy day?”

Pepper stretched languidly. "Not at all. I've got no meetings until Tuesday, so I don't need to prep until Monday. I've set up an out-of-office autoreply for my email. I am going to work out for a while, and then I'm having a day of leisure reading."

“Good for you,” Tony said. “We can go out for dinner if you like.”

“I’d love to,” Pepper replied. “Peter, you want to join us.”

“Thanks, but I need to patrol,” Peter said.

That was the truth, but he also wanted to give Tony and Pepper their space. He knew Tony was missing out on time with Pepper to spend with him, and though he never showed that he minded—it seemed opposite even—Peter was conscious of it. Besides, the more time he spent on patrol, the more people he could help.

He'd felt like he was making a difference before, but now, he could do so much more with the new suit. Karen alerted him to things he would have missed without her. He’d not spent an evening with only a cat rescued from a tree to show for his time.

When they'd eaten, and Peter had helped Tony load the dishwasher, they went down to the lab, and Tony instructed Friday to put on his playlist. Peter was getting better at recognizing the artists and tracks now and was even starting to like them, and he smiled as AC/DC's Back in Black began to play.

Tony gestured Peter into a seat, pulled up his own stool, and said, “Okay, kid, here’s what we’ve got, and here’s what we need to make.” He swiped a hand, and a rotating hologram of a metal arm appeared.

Peter took it in. He didn't know what he could do to help as it looked great already, but he thought he was going to learn a lot, and he was excited to start.

Tony opened a plastic crate, pulled out a sheet of metal, and said, “This, Pete, is vibranium, and we’re going to test out what we can do with it.

Excited and mind racing with possibilities, Peter reached out a finger and touched the cool, silky metal and said, "Awesome.”

xXx

Tony was enjoying his morning with Peter, but he knew he had to lay the groundwork for what was to come in September, and he was worried about how Peter was going to take it.

He looked up from the elbow joint he was testing in Bucky’s new arm and said, “Did I tell you about the base change?” conversationally, knowing full well that he had not.

“Uh… no?”

“Must have forgotten,” Tony lied smoothly. “We’re moving most of the assets from the tower to the compound. The Avengers haven’t lived here for a long time, so it makes sense to have all our stuff in one place. We’re setting up the framework now—Happy’s in charge—and we'll transfer it all in September.”

Peter’s eyes were a little wider than usual, but his voice was steady when he said, “So you’ll be based at the compound?”

“In a way,” Tony said. “Most of my time will be spent there for Avengers’ business. Pepper is staying in the city, though, so I'll be living here unless she's out of the country."

“Oh,” Peter said, biting his lip. “So, we won’t do lab days anymore?”

“Actually, I was thinking we could do them at the compound sometimes. Happy can still drive you over, but it will be a longer journey—a couple hours each way—so you might want to stay overnight, have a couple days, then go home Sunday.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open, eyes wide, and he said, “You mean actually go to the compound, where all The Avengers live?”

Tony smiled at his response. "Exactly. It won't be until late September—" when the events with Toomes and his crew were over, and Tony was free to be with Peter without holding any of himself back as he would never have to betray him again by taking his suit and breaking his heart. “But then, yeah. What do you think?”

Peter licked his lips. “Mr. Stark, that sounds amazing. Really. I mean…” He took a breath, “I won’t get in their way, I promise, I’ll be careful, but I’d love to go there. I’ve seen the compound on the news, and it looks incredible.”

"That's agreed then," Tony said. "I can keep enough of my stuff here for our Wednesday sessions, but we'll do the real work on weekends."

Peter nodded eagerly. “That would be awesome.”

Tony turned back to his work, a thrill of happiness brimming in his chest. There was more to the feeling than Peter staying over, getting extra time with him. When the events of September had passed, when, as Mind said, it was the right time for them all to have a chance to bond with Peter, he could introduce him to all The Avengers and let them build those relationships.

Tony would have done it already, he’d agreed to do it when The Accords were signed, but Mind dropped into the celebration and advised them that they needed to keep a partial distance between them all until Peter had been tested by events of Homecoming night and what came before. He said it would be harder for Peter to stand alone and face it if he had all of The Avengers to rely on for help, especially as he did not have the drive to prove himself this time around the way he did before.

Steve and Rhodey were most disappointed by this, and Steve had not been happy to give his agreement that he would distance himself from Peter until the right time, but they all accepted that Mind was right. If Peter had all The Avengers on his side, he would not face it alone, which was apparently so vital.

Peter had passed on his apology through Mind, but, as he said, it was only two more months of the eighteen that they could have together after.

And after… Tony would never need to hide from Peter again.

Chapter Text

September 8th

Tony sat in the common room of the compound, staring at the hologram that spread from his phone, showing the mask view of Peter’s suit as he swung around Queens.

He was not alone; Steve, Natasha, and Bucky were with him, all waiting for what they knew would come, and Rhodey was due soon to join them. Tony was grateful Rhodey arranged to take time off, as he needed his best friend with him while he did what he knew he had to do.

On the table was a list of what he knew was coming, gathered from his memories of these days and what Mind had passed on from Peter about what would happen. They’d been discussing it when Peter started his patrol, and their focus had moved to watching him.

Tony had been unaware of some of what happened before, as Peter had been acting without guidance and purposefully without his knowledge at one point. He didn’t know if Peter would remove the tracker from his suit again. He doubted it somehow, as it didn’t seem like something Peter would do anymore, but whatever happened, he had to stand back and let it play out.

Tony was twelve days away from what would be one of the greatest challenges of these events, taking the suit, and he dreaded it.

After that would come worse, knowing Peter was clinging to a crashing plane, but that would at least be where it ended. When that was over, when Peter had faced it, Tony would be able to support him again, never holding any part of himself back.

Tony picked up his bottle of beer and took a swig. He would have preferred whiskey, but he wasn't about to go down that slippery slope again.

Though this was nowhere near the same kind of trauma as what he’d suffered after coming home from Titan without Peter, the urge to drown it with alcohol was the same. In those dark days, before Pepper had saved him from himself with news of her pregnancy and her ultimatum, he had been steadily drinking himself to death to block out the pain of what had happened to Peter.

This was not as bad, he reminded himself constantly. Peter would come back, and he would be worthy. However, the fear remained.

“Whoa, what was that?” Peter's voice said behind the mask, broadcast to the room.

“There is a disturbance at Queens Community Bank,” Karen replied. “Shall we investigate?”

“Yep,” Peter said cheerfully. “Let’s go.”

Tony watched Peter swing down the street and then land smoothly on the ground opposite the bank. Through his eyes, Tony saw the men breaking into the ATM and heard Peter’s gasp of shock.

Steve leaned forwards, his eyes on the hologram, and he said, “Nat, you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “Damn, we’re idiots.”

“What?” Tony asked. “What’s going on?”

Steve didn’t answer, eyes fixed on the scene playing out on the hologram, where Peter was facing the men in their cheap Avengers masks and quipping at them.

“We were tracking weapons like these,” Natasha explained. “When we were together, after it all happened in Germany, we heard about these high-tech alien weapons being used.” She shook her head. “I didn’t connect what you were telling us before when you said what Peter did, but these weapons were all over the US and Europe. We were trying to track them back to the source to shut it down.”

“But Peter did it for us,” Steve said, a small smile curving his lips.

“Of course he did,” Bucky said, voice filled with pride. “That’s what he does.”

“Yes, but this operation was huge,” Natasha said. “We found what we think was all of the weapons and took them to Wakanda to be decommissioned, but the supply just dried up. We thought there had to have been an accident in the manufacture or something that took out the dealers."

“No,” Tony said, sad eyes on the hologram as Peter’s view snapped up and down as the weapon fixed on him and smashed him between the floor and ceiling. "It was Peter."

“Yeah,” Steve said, a line between his brows as Peter was thrown around.  “Whoa!”

The ray from the weapon had missed Peter by inches and shot through the window, hitting the bodega across the street, destroying the front, and starting a fire inside.

“Mr. Delmar! No!”

Peter sounded so nervous, none of the confidence Tony remembered from these years before. The change in Peter was so profound. Before, though Tony had not seen these events like he was now, Peter had been bolder and more assured in his skills. He sounded winded and scared now, and Tony suspected it was more than just the fear for his friend, Mr. Delmar.

Peter would be different, he’d not experienced the defining moment of fighting with The Avengers, but Tony had not seen just how great that gulf between who he had been and who he was until now.

They watched Peter's view as he searched the bodega, found the man he cared for, and supported him as he escaped, with a soft, “Come on, Murph, I’ve got you,” as he scooped up a fat cat and carried him out.

“Peter, I detect three fractured ribs on your right side,” Karen supported. "But Mr. Delmar is uninjured.

“Shut it down, Fri,” Tony said, and the hologram shrunk and disappeared.

He sat back, raked a hand over his face, and squeezed his eyes closed. Peter had broken ribs, he was in pain now, and Tony couldn’t help.

There was movement, and the door and Rhodey came in. He looked from Steve, who looked dour, to Tony, who was sure his worry was showing on his face, and said, “How bad?”

“Three broken ribs,” Tony spat.

Rhodey flinched. "Damn. But he's through it. It's done?"

"It's done," Tony agreed. "Well, that part is done. The rest has just started."

“But he’ll be okay,” Rhodey said, his words reassuring but his tone requiring reassurance.

"He will," Steve answered when Tony failed to. "It's, what, three weeks of this, and then it's over?"

Tony nodded.

“Then we’ll be free to help him,” Steve went on. “None of us will have to keep our distance at all. We can support him all he needs.”

“From what though?” Tony asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Bucky said, his voice filled with worry. “I’ve not heard from Zemo, and Happy didn’t find a mole in Stark Industries, did he?”

“Not yet. He’s still looking, though. The staff is huge, and Pepper won’t let him use a polygraph.” Tony smiled grimly. “Way Happy is about Peter now he’s in the know, I wouldn’t put it past him to do it anyway if he doesn’t find something soon.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, Happy’s definitely invested.

Tony felt a small smile curling his lips. The change in Happy now that he knew the truth was vast. He was gradually bonding with Peter more thoroughly than he ever had before. Tony wondered how Peter felt watching it happen from his place in 2023. He would be pleased, Tony knew, as he was always fond of Happy, but it had to be strange for him.

“Boss, you have an incoming call from Peter,” Friday reported. “Do I connect?”

“Is he still in the suit?” Tony’s heart pounded. “Is he okay?”

“He is in the suit, and Karen reports he is distressed.”

Tony knew he shouldn’t do it, this was not part of their plan, but he couldn’t leave Peter suffering alone if there was something he could do to help, even just by talking to him. How much harm could it do to speak to him anyway? He wasn’t interfering with what Peter was doing.

He picked the phone up from the table and said, “Connect it,” and then, when he heard Peter’s ragged breathing on the line, he said, “Hey, Pete. You okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I mean no. The craziest thing happened, Mr. Stark. I found these guys robbing the Queens' Bank, and they had these weapons that weren't like anything I'd ever seen before. They blew a hole in Mr. Delmar's place. I… uh… I mean, I'm fine, really, but I think I need help with this, Mr. Stark, because they were way out of my league."

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, his need to help Peter battling what he knew was the right thing to do, and then his mouth opened, and he said, without conscious thought, "I'll help you, kid. Don't worry."

Steve sucked in a breath, and Natasha narrowed her eyes and growled, “Get off the phone.”

Ignoring them both, Tony said, again without thinking, “We’ll work it out, Pete.”

Vision drifted through the wall, his face dark in a way Tony had never seen before, and he didn't recognize at first that it was Mind and not Vision entering. Though it was unknown to see Vision ever displaying this kind of anger, to see it in Mind, the consummate calm presence, was even more outlandish.

“Get off the phone!” Mind snapped.

“Look, Pete, I’ve got to go,” Tony said. “But I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay,” Peter said, voice small. “I mean, of course. I’ll talk to you whenever you’ve got time. I’ve got this.”

The call ended, and Tony took a deep breath, mind rallying for an explanation or defense for what he had done.

Before he could speak, Mind fixed him in a glare and said, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Easy,” Bucky said. “Tony was trying to help.”

“Help!” Mind said, voice rising. “This is not helping!”

“I’m not interfering,” Tony said, holding up his hands. “I just said what he needed to hear to calm down. He’s hurt and scared.”

“He should be!” Mind roared, shocking them all as they had never seen or imagined him behaving like this. “He is facing the greatest challenge on his path that we’re aware of, and he is not the person you knew before because of you!”

Tony rose to his feet, anger coming to his defense. “Why is that? I was supporting him the way you told me to. You said we had to help him.”

“Yes! To support him and make him the person he needs to be. Peter is now preparing to hand over all responsibility for what just happened and what must follow to you! He is not prepared!”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “You can’t have it both ways, none of you Stones. You either want us to help him or not.”

“Tony,” Rhodey said quietly. “You know that’s not what he meant.”

Mind cut a hand through the air. "He does know, Colonel Rhodes. He is being selfish. It hurts him to imagine Peter scared and alone in this, but it must happen. All of you,” his eyes roved the room, taking them all in, “have a mission. You are here to save Peter’s life! You knew that, yet not one of you stopped him saying those things.”

“No,” Bucky said, cheeks flushing with anger. “Because we care about Peter and want to help him.”

Mind cut his hand through the air again, his yellow eyes blazing. Tony had never seen this level of anger in The Stones, not even in Power. “You will kill him if you don’t stop! Peter knows this, he is watching this happen, seeing his path change, and he is scared of what will come.”

“Peter would understand,” Tony said.

Mind’s eyes widened. “Understand? Where do you think my anger comes from? This is him.”

“Queens is angry?” Steve asked skeptically.

“Yes! He is furious. He was relying on you to help him. Yes, you need to support him and guide him, but not through this! When Nemesis act, when they come for him, that is when he will need your support. We do not know how that threat will come or when, but it's not started yet. This is when you must allow Peter to stand on his own two feet and be tested. If you do not, you will kill him as surely as if you pulled the trigger on him yourself."

Tony bowed his head, shame and horror rushing through him. He knew he was wrong, that what he’d done was stupid. He never wanted to risk Peter’s life, but he couldn’t stand by and let his son be scared and alone.

However, that was evidently exactly what he had to do.

“I’m sorry," he said quietly. "Tell Pete, I'm sorry. I'll do better."

“Better is not enough,” Mind said cuttingly. “You have to close the connection until it’s time. You cannot call Peter again. You were supposed to be in India for a wedding. If you cannot be selfless enough to go and be there, you can at least tell Peter that's where you are. Send him a message, make it clear you're not able to help and end it."

Tony flinched. “But last time I told him I’d take care of it. And he did it anyway.”

“Yes, because Peter was confident and determined to prove himself to you as an Avenger. That is not who he is now. He needs to feel he has no option but to do it alone. That is what you must do for him now.”

Tony sagged, defeated. “I’ll do it.”

“We all will,” Steve said. “We’re sorry.”

Mind glared at them all and said, his tone dark, "If you really do love Peter and want him to be Worthy, you will stand aside and let him do this alone. If you cannot be selfless enough to do that, Peter will take you home now, and you can live in that world without him.”

Tony’s head snapped up. “He’ll take us back?”

“He will,” Mind said. “Because there will be no point in you being here otherwise.”

Tony wasn’t sure he believed Mind, not understanding how much could be reliant on Peter facing Toomes and his gang, but he acknowledged the threat and would obey.

He would distance himself from his son, let the situation play out, and he would cling to the fact he would be able to do whatever it was Peter needed, be whatever he needed, when this was over.

Mind’s eyes roved over them all, said, "Good," and then his eyes closed, and a small groan slipped from him.

Tony knew at once that it was Vision returning, and he said, “How’s Pete, Vis?”

Vision blinked slowly, seeming to be working through something, and he said, “He is worried.”

“Not angry?” Bucky asked, a satisfied curl to his lips.

“No, he is angry,” Vision said. “But not as much as some of them. Power is enraged. Peter could not control him.”

Tony squeezed his eyes closed as shame welled in him. He dropped back onto the couch and hid his face in his hands.

“You need to contact Peter again, Tony,” Natasha said.

Tony nodded, face still hidden. “I know.”

“Then do it,” she said, voice firm. “We’ve got to fix what we did.”

It was kind of her to group herself in this, because he alone was the one that had screwed up. He had made this mess and had to fix it for the sake of his son’s life, even though to save him, he had to hurt him now. 

He picked up his phone, took a breath, and wrote a text which would cut communication with Peter and make him think he had to handle this alone.

As he pressed send, his eyes prickled, and pain pierced his chest.

In that moment, he hated himself.

xXx

Peter looked at the message on his phone, his eyes wide and mind reeling. Tony was going away and would be out of touch for at least three weeks.

He understood Tony was busy; he was the Tony Stark—Iron Man—and had a huge multinational business that he owned. Of course, Pepper took care of most of that, but there were still things he had to do for the company. It was probably something like that taking him away, but…

But he said he’d help.

Peter had never seen anything like the weapons the bank robbers had used on him, and they’d trashed Mr. Delmar’s. They were dangerous, and Spider-Man was not equipped to handle something like that. Maybe it was too small for The Avengers, but Tony would know who to put in charge of it.

He would never have chosen Peter.

However, that seemed to be exactly what he had done. He told Peter he was going away, and he trusted him to take care of the weapons problem. That felt wrong, and not just because Peter knew he wasn't the right person to do it. Tony always seemed protective of him as Spider-Man. He'd created the suit with all kinds of protections in place, and he always told Peter to be careful.

It was like he’d forgotten all of that.

Unless this was a test of some kind, maybe he wanted Peter to prove himself somehow. If that was it, Peter would prefer he skipped it, as this was way out of his league.

“Karen, why do you think Mr. Stark changed his mind?” he asked. “I mean, he told me he’d take care of it, but now he’s going overseas and leaving  me to do it alone.”

“I don’t know, Peter,” she replied.

“Do you think it’s some kind of test?”

"Possibly. I believe you're capable of passing it if it is. You're strong, Peter, in ways Mr. Stark sees that you do not. Perhaps this is the time to trust yourself and act alone."

“I’d rather he helped,” Peter muttered.

“You know the origin of Iron Man, Peter?”

"Yeah, of course. He made the first suit in a cave while pretending to be building a weapon to escape his captors."

“Yes, he was faced with powerful adversity and created something to save himself. That was his test. Perhaps he feels it is time for you to be tested.”

Peter swallowed hard. “What if I don’t want to be tested.”

“I don’t think you get to choose,” she said, voice kind. “If you truly feel you are not capable of meeting this threat, I can contact Friday for you and request that she enlist a different team to do it, but I believe you can handle it.”

Peter sighed. “Yeah. Okay. I mean, if Mr. Stark is testing me, I don’t want to fail, right? I don’t want to disappoint him, and the internship is… I can do it.”

“You can,” she agreed. “And now I suggest you go home and put some ice on your ribs. They are healing, but a cold compress will help with the pain.”

Peter took a tentative breath, feeling the pull of his injury, and then made his way home.

He had no idea that someone was going to be waiting for him, that his secret would be out to Ned when he arrived, and he couldn’t know what Ned’s support and encouragement would lead to.

Despite not knowing, it was another part of Peter being tested, though not in the way he thought.

Chapter Text

September 9th

Steve stood on the bank of The Hudson, in the spot Tony had directed him to, watching the sky.

Tony had wanted to come himself, but they’d all argued against it. They knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his distance from Peter if he was there. It was going to be hard enough for Steve to do it. He was only there in case of an emergency.

They had followed events through Friday, seeing Peter move along the path that Mind insisted he needed to travel alone. When his plan to visit a school friend's party had been aborted, Steve had left the tower and come to the river where he would be able to see what was happening.

Tony was back at the tower still, working his way through a six-pack of beer with Pepper at his side, and he had the suit he would send to Peter—if it was required—primed and ready.

Steve had left them all in a state of high anticipation. Mind had been with them, Vision absent again, and he’d passed on Peter’s encouraging words with a dose of his own frustration, though his fury seemed to be spent now.

From what Mind said, Peter was more confident things would pass as they should now. He said he had divined a different message from Tony's actions than before—that he thought he was being tested. Tony didn't like that idea but accepted it was the thing that would best lead to the outcome they needed to save Peter's life.

Steve heard a strange thrumming sound approaching, and his keen eyes searched the sky for a sign of the source. It came a moment later, the strangest sight. It was a person in a wingsuit, not at all as sleek as Sam’s, which Steve had not been able to imagine when Tony told them about it. Peter was hanging from the claws underneath. Steve felt a thrill of horror at the sight, imagining Peter’s fear as he hung there, and then he heard a faint beeping and a parachute deployed from the back of Peter’s suit.

The wind resistance made the man in the wingsuit—Tony said he called himself The Vulture—drop Peter, too fast, the parachute tangling around him. Peter dropped into the river with a splash.

Steve wanted to go out to him, but he heard the sound of the thrusters of Tony's deployed suit already coming, and he knew that it would be faster to get to Peter than him swimming. He watched as the suit dived into the water, and then it appeared again, Peter cradled in its arms, limp and terrifying.

The suit carried Peter to Steve and set him down more roughly than Steve expected. Peter’s head fell to the side, limp with unconsciousness, and Tony’s rough voice said, through the suit, “He’s not breathing, Steve!”

Steve sucked in a horrified breath and dropped to his knees beside Peter. His heart was hammering in his chest, and his hands shook. With Tony's pleas and commands as a soundtrack that sounded distant from him, he tore off Peter’s mask and pressed his fingers to his throat.

He could feel a rapid heartbeat beneath, but he knew that would not last unless he could empty Peter’s lungs of water. He hauled Peter up, supporting him like a newborn baby, and thumped him on the back.

“Come on, Queens,” he urged. “Cough it up.”

“It’s not enough, Steve!” Tony said, mechanical voice raised. “Save him!”

“I am!” Steve said curtly, laying Peter down again, tilting back his head, and blowing two breaths into his lungs, feeling his icy lips under his own warm ones,

Peter's chest rose, and then he gave a cough, and water spilled from his lips. Steve turned him on his side and patted his back as Peter coughed up the water, choking and rasping.

“I’ve got him; he’s okay,” he chanted, speaking both to himself and Tony.

“He’s okay,” Tony said. “Yes, he’s okay.”

Steve knew he was speaking to himself, trying to calm down, and Steve watched as Peter retched then collapsed back. His eyes were closed, and his chest was heaving, but Steve knew he would rouse soon.

Which meant he had to leave.

Mind had made it clear that any interference from them had to come without Peter knowing; he could not even speak to Tony through the suit as he had last time.

Hating himself, his legs heavy with reluctance, Steve patted Peter’s cheek, whispered a reassurance, and then stood and slipped away into the shadows to watch.

He heard Tony give a small moan, and then the suit flew away. For a full minute, a minute that made Steve fear damage from being deprived of oxygen, Peter lay on the ground and just breathed, and then, thankfully, his eyes opened, and he sat up.

“What happened, Karen,” he said weakly and then seemed to realize his mask was missing. He looked puzzled, pulled it on and asked again, "What happened?"

Steve heard the reply within the suit and Peter’s ragged breathing as he massaged his chest. "Your parachute tangled and you fell into The Hudson. Luckily, one of Mr. Stark's suits was deployed to rescue you.”

“Mr. Stark saved me?” Peter said weakly. “Where is he now?”

“In India,” she reported.

“He didn’t say anything?”

“He sent no message that I am aware of. And I would be aware.”

Peter coughed again and rubbed a shaking hand over his chest. “The test. Right. God, I’m cold.”

“Mr. Stark programmed your suit with a heater. Would you like me to engage it?”

“Yeah, please,” Peter said.

Steam floated from Peter’s suit, and he gave a small moan of appreciation.

Steve knew he had seen enough, risked enough, so, with Peter’s conversation with Karen as a backdrop, he slipped away on silent feet, reached the place he’d stowed his motorbike, and climbed on.

With a heavy heart and dreading what he knew would be Tony’s extreme distress when he returned, he kicked the engine to life and drove away.

xXx

“You drowned!” Ned squawked.

“Not really,” Peter said, sitting on the edge of his bed and holding the phone away from his ear a moment to towel at his hair. “I was breathing and everything. I think I just swallowed some water because I was coughing and my chest was sore. Anyway, that’s not the point. This guy was… He could fly, Ned!”

“Dude, that’s crazy. You could have died!”

“No, I couldn’t. One of Mr. Stark's suits deployed automatically. If I'd nearly died, he would have done something, talked to me, or sent a message. I mean, he can track what happens in the suit with Friday and Karen, so he wasn't worried."

“Peter, this is big,” Ned said. “Like real superhero stuff.”

“I know,” Peter said, rubbing his face with the towel. “But I can do it. I didn’t think I could, but Mr. Stark is trusting me, and Karen says he’s got faith in me.”

“Wow. Tony Stark is relying on you to stop a supervillain.”

“He is,” Peter said with a small smile. “He’d know if I couldn’t do it, right? I mean, he’s the expert.”

“I know, yeah, but wow.”

Peter laughed. “Yeah, wow. I’m going to work it out, though. I’ve got Karen, who’s a genius, I’ve got this suit, and I’ve got one of the weapons.”

Ned’s heavy breath crackled the line. “This is huge. I thought Spider-Man was big, and it is, but this is so big. I can help, right? I’m your Guy in the Chair, after all.”

"You are, and you can," Peter said, knowing Ned's enthusiasm was building now, as was his own.  

“Totally worth missing a party for,” Ned went on. “Which is, yeah, good, since it ended up being a nightmare. My hat didn’t work, and Flash was being an asshole.”

“Yeah, you told me,” Peter said, smile fading as he remembered Ned reporting the chant the crowd had eagerly taken up under Flash’s instruction. “I think my party days are over until college.” He crossed to the desk and poked at the weapon he’d collected after investigating the scene. “I’m going to bring this weapon thing to school tomorrow so we can examine it.”

"Examining a supervillain’s weapon,” Ned whispered. "Yeah. Real superhero stuff. We should get some sleep so we're on top of our game tomorrow—for the mission, you know.”

Peter chuckled. “We should. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

The call cut and Peter threw the towel into the corner. He should sleep, as he was exhausted—almost, or kinda, drowning had tired him out. He was eager for the morning, too. He had a lead on the villain now with what he'd found, and he was going to work it out.

He felt more ready now. He was going to pass this test, prove to Tony that he could do what needed to be done, and fix it. This was Spider-Man’s first villain that wasn’t a mugger, robber, or drug dealer, and he was starting to enjoy it.

He wanted to make Tony proud.

xXx

Tony ripped himself from the nightmare with a cry and clawing his hand at his throat, fingernails gouging the skin.

“Tony?” Pepper said drowsily beside him. “What’s wrong?”

Tony couldn’t answer, his breaths were gasping and painful, and he merely shook his head.

The bed shifted beneath him, and Pepper caught his clawing hand. “No, honey,” she said gently. “Don’t do that. You’re hurting yourself.”

“Peter,” he gasped.

“He’s okay,” she whispered. “He’s fine. Steve saved him.”

Tony’s head whipped from side to side. “I almost lost him,” he rasped.

Pepper took his hand and placed it on her chest. “Breathe with me,” she said, making her breaths slow and exaggerated. “Come on. In and out. Nice and easy.”

Tony tried to obey, his breaths slowing with a supreme effort, but his mind was still reeling.

He had dreamed of Peter again, seeing Steve fighting to clear his lungs of water, but in the dream, it hadn’t worked.

He'd watched, helpless, through the suit, as Steve did CPR, begging Peter to come back in a rough voice between each breath forced into his unmoving lungs. He’d seen the moment Steve realized it was hopeless, and at the same time, Tony’s lungs had filled, too. He’d felt himself drowning in horror, in pain, and only supreme effort and fear had enabled himself to rip free of it.

“That’s it,” Pepper said softly. “That’s good.”

His breaths were coming easier now, though they still burned his lungs as if it had been him that drowned.

He bowed his head and whispered, “I could have lost him.”

“You couldn’t,” she said. “He’s in 2023, remember; you told me.” 

“I saw him die,” he said. “Steve couldn’t save him.”

"It was a dream." Her hand cupped his cheek, and her thumb rubbed soothing circles. "Just a dream. He's fine now."

Tony nodded, the reality of her words sinking in and soothing him, and he felt some of the pain leeching away.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said.

“You’re already doing it. You know it’s what needs to happen; you told me. Peter knows it, the Peter that loves you in 2023, and he’s trusting you to see it through. This is the only way to save his life.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say Peter was asking too much, but he bit down on the words until he tasted blood. 

Peter was asking a lot, but it was to save his life, and Tony would do whatever it took to do that. He hated it, though. The days that stretched between him and the day the plane came down tortured him. He wanted to be there for him now, to support him, but he couldn’t.

It was only overwhelming love for his son and Mind’s warnings that kept him on track. Peter would not ask him for more than he could give, and he’d asked for this, which meant he knew Tony could do it.                      

Even though he hated it.

“Do you think you can sleep some more?” Pepper asked.

“No, definitely not,” Tony said without hesitation.

Sleep meant dreams and dreams meant pain.         

“Then we’ll get up now,” she said. “We can watch a movie, or just sit together, and you can tell me more about the Peter you know best.”

Tony nodded. He liked the idea of that. He wanted to share all of Peter with her, the past, present and future, and he thought it would be soothing to lose himself in memories of his son for a while instead of dwelling on how he could have lost him before Peter ever had a chance to love him in return.

Chapter Text

31. Explosion

September 10th

Peter tapped the glowing core of the weapon with the hammer, Ned watching curiously at his elbow, and it wiggled in its clamp.

“You’re going to need to do it harder than that,” Ned said.

Peter sighed. “I know.”

He was unsure about what he was doing, but at the same time, he knew he needed to. This was the only way to find out what this weapon was and where it came from, which he needed to know to find and stop the people building them.

He and Ned had already deduced that it was alien technology being combined with earth's, and Peter saw the potential for even more damage than he'd seen already. And what he had seen was big enough with what happened to Mr. Delmar's.

He gave it another tap, it wiggled again, and he knew he was going to have to suck it up and get on with it. He hit it hard, and the glowing core flew out and hit the ground with a clatter.

Peter and Ned’s heads snapped round to see if they’d been noticed, but everyone seemed caught up in what they were doing: Flash was fiddling with something beside the cloud chamber, Liz and Abe were working on a chemistry experiment which was smoking, and Betty was thumbing through a textbook with a vague look in her eyes. The rest of the people in the room were similarly occupied.

“Keep your fingers clear of the blades,” Mr. Hapgood said in a bored tone, not looking up from his book.

Peter picked up the purple glowing core and examined it. It felt cool against his skin, though he thought he could detect a pulse from it, a tremor against his hand. He carried it back to Ned, and they bowed over it.

“This… Dude, this is it!” Ned whispered enthusiastically. “You’ve got an actual alien weapon in your hands.”

“I do,” Peter agreed. “But what am I going to do with it?”

“What do you want to do?” Ned asked.

“Show Mr. Stark,” Peter said honestly. “I could. I mean, he’s away for three weeks, so I could wait and show it to him when he gets back. But the weapons dealers could do a lot of damage before them. I could patrol more, track them, or…”

Ned jostled his shoulder. “This is not Spider-Man talking.”

“Shhh!” Peter hissed.

Ned glanced around and then spoke, voice quieter now. “Okay, yeah, but I’m right. This is Peter Parker talking, and he’s not the one being tested. You told me that’s what you and Karen worked out, and since Mr. Stark made Karen, she knows what she’s talking about. You have to pass this test, which means it’s got to be Spider-Man in control.”

Peter stared at him. “You do know we’re the same person, right?”

Ned shook his head, hair whipping. “No, dude, Spider-Man is the way cooler version of you.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks, Ned.”

“You know what I mean, and you know I’m right. Spider-Man needs to handle this. Iron Man is relying on him.”

Peter smiled slightly. “Yeah, okay. But what do I do? I guess I could ask Karen what she knows.” He looked around again. “That’s going to have to wait since I left the suit at home.”

“Can I come by while you do it?” Ned asked.

“Totally. This is absolutely the kind of thing I need my Guy in the Chair for.”

Ned beamed. "I just want to say, thank you for taking me on this journey with you. I know you're freaking out under the calm exterior—"

Peter snorted. “Calm? You think this looks calm? Ned, dude, I’m terrified. This is a huge deal. Mr. Stark has never tested me like this before—he’s never tested me at all. The closest we’ve come to this, which is a million miles away, is asking me for theories on what we’re doing before showing me if I’m right or wrong. This is… He might decide I’m not good enough and take the suit back.”

“You think?” Ned asked, eyebrows high.

"I don't know," Peter groaned. "I have no idea what he's thinking because he's, you know, superhero genius, and I'm Peter. For all I know, this is what The Avengers do all the time."

Ned’s mouth dropped open. “You think this is an Avengers test? Like you need to pass it to become one? Dude, you could be an Avenger!”

“No! Totally not. No way. Yeah, I don't know what he's doing, unless this is some kind of confidence-building thing, which, yeah, I don't want. Whatever he's doing, I've got to pass it since I can't lose the suit. It's amazing, Ned; I can do so much more with it, Karen helps me so much, and I wouldn’t be able to help as many people without her!"

Ned held up a hand. "Dude, you're spiraling. You're not going to lose the suit as you're not going to fail this test. You're going to pass it, kick some supervillain ass, and then Mr. Stark will make you an Avenger."

Peter cut a hand across his throat to shut Ned up and looked around the room to see if anyone was listening. No one appeared to be, all lost in their own experiments. Peter didn't want anyone hearing them talking about this stuff. Though he was sure no one was going to figure out he was Spider-Man from this conversation—no one would ever believe it was him—if Flash heard them talking about The Avengers, he'd use it as an excuse to give Peter a hard time, and he was already stressed enough.

“I’m not going to be an Avenger,” he whispered. “But I am going to pass this test.”

His voice was not as confident as his words, as he really felt out of his depth. If only Mr. Stark was closer, if he’d talk. He was thousands of miles away in India now, doing big important Tony Stark things, leaving Peter alone to deal with these weapons.

Peter really wished he’d not decided to test him now, that he’d given him a few years to develop his skills first.

"What are you doing, Mr. Thompson?" Mr. Hapgood asked, his tone bored but he was finally looking up from his book.

“Just an experiment,” Flash said.

He took a yellow box from the table in front of him, one with a bold black radiation trefoil on the lid. He opened the clasp and pulled out a large rock.

“Uh, Flash, maybe that’s not a good idea,” Peter said, stowing the glowing core in his pocket and moving towards him. Flash wasn't as smart as he liked to think, but he wasn't usually stupid. However, handling a uranium-rich material wasn't a smart thing to do.

“Shut it, Penis,” Flash said. “I know what I’m doing.”

Mr. Hapgood moved forward and said, “Mr. Thompson, what are you doing?” again, though his tone was more forceful now.

They had used these uranium rocks for experiments before, but they'd used all the protective gear, and Flash wasn't.

Peter moved towards him, planning to intervene and stop him before he hurt himself, but when he was a foot away from Flash, his pocket started to burn.

He took the power core out, which was now pulsing with bright light, and his breath caught with panic. The tremor he’d felt before was now a distinct throb, and his spider-sense was screaming at him.

“Everyone out!” he shouted, running towards the cloud chamber with confused questions surrounding him.

He knew he must look like a lunatic, shouting at them and running around with no perceivable threat apart from what looked like a glow ball in his hands, but he was terrified and repeated the order at a shout.

He yanked open the cloud chamber, threw the core in, but he was a moment too late. It exploded with a huge pulse of energy, and he flew through the air, hitting other warm bodies, and crashed into the opposite wall.

There was screaming, and the fire alarm was blaring; beneath that, Peter could hear a crackle of flames. He scrambled to his feet and called to Ned, his eyes darting around, taking in the damage. The cloud chamber had torn open and was sparking. There was debris that had been ceiling tiles and plasterboard walls on the ground, furniture was upended and smashed, and the room was starting to fill with smoke from a fire started on a pile of textbooks.

Pushing aside his horror at what had happened, what he had done, Peter looked around, assessing the injuries he could see and searching for the worst through the smoke, which was making it hard to see.

There had been many people in the room with him, some now bleeding and others crying. Mr. Hapgood seemed to be the worst injured; he was unconscious, and there was a gash on his head that was bleeding profusely. 

“Everyone out,” Peter called, moving to Mr. Hapgood and hoisting him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Come on!”

Some people got to their feet, nursing injuries and some limping, and hurried towards the door in a chaotic mosh of crying people, but there were more than remained sitting in shock. The smoke was starting to fill the room, burning Peter’s eyes and scratching his throat. Peter kicked Flash, who was staring into space, and said, “Move, Flash!”

Flash glared up at him and then got to his feet, shook his head experimentally, and then barreled towards the door.

Peter knew they all needed to go out, but he could only carry one person at a time, and he was really worried about Mr. Hapgood, so he carried him out, urging people to follow. The smoke was growing thicker, and the heat from the fire increased as it spread, which seemed to snap people out of their shocked inertia. They began to rush towards the door, and Peter stayed at their rear. As important as he knew it was to get Mr. Hapgood out, he didn’t want anyone to be left behind. As they exited in a rush into the hall, he stayed behind the crowd, making sure no one lagged.

His eyes found Ned at the door, who was bleeding from a cut over his eye and looked pale and shocked, and he said, "You okay?"

"No. I mean, yeah. I'm just… Dude, what happened?"

Peter shook his head. He knew exactly what had happened, he'd blown up a classroom with that power core, but he couldn’t say that in front of other people. He felt sick with horror already. He could have killed someone. What the hell was he thinking, bringing it into  school?

If this was a test, and he’d believed it was, he had just failed epically and put a whole room full of people at risk.

The air grew fresher the closer to the door they got, and more people began to appear, teachers who were working the weekend, too, and the janitor holding a mop.

“What happened?” Mr. Morita asked.

“Someone tried to blow us up!” Flash said, shoving his way to the front of the queue and rushing at the door.

“Okay, calm down,” Mr. Morita said. “The fire crew and ambulances are on their way. Peter, who do you have there?” he asked, his eyes finding Peter and his burden.

“Mr. Hapgood,” Peter said. “He’s unconscious and he’s got a cut on his head.”

Mr. Morita and the janitor rushed forward and took Mr. Hapgood from Peter, carrying him between them towards the door.

Relieved of his burden, Peter's eyes examined the others in the corridor. No one looked like they had serious injuries, but they were all clearly shaken, and many were crying.

Peter scanned their faces, doing a headcount, and then he realized there was someone missing—someone he would usually have noticed at once.

He grabbed Ned’s arm and said, “Liz! She’s not here.”

Ned gaped. “Peter…”

“I’ve got to get her out!”

“No! The room’s on fire. I know you’re… you know… but this is serious, Peter. Let the fire crew get her."

“It might be too late,” Peter said roughly. “Get outside. Take care of the others. I’ll go back for her.”

He shook off Ned’s restraining hand and ran back toward the classroom, into the smoke which wanted to blind him and then stopping dead at the edge of the flames which baked him with their heat. 

"Liz!" he shouted. "Liz, where are you!"

He could hear no response over the fire alarm blaring, and he started to search the room by hand, lifting furniture, bent low to avoid the smoke.

“Liz,” he said, his voice rasping now from the smoke and starting to cough. “Are you here?”

He skirted the flames, which were highest in the middle of the room, lifted aside a lab table, and saw a shape lying motionless beneath. The flames licked at the table already, and the smoke made it hard to see.

"Liz!" he cried and then choked.

He shoved the table away and scooped his arms under her. She moaned as he pulled her against his chest, horror filling him, and she roused.

“Daddy…” she wheezed.

“It’s Peter. Peter Parker. You’re okay. I’m getting you out,” he said.

“Peter? What happened?”

“There was an accident,” he said, coughing again. “Can you hold your breath? There’s too much smoke.”

In response, she coughed and said, “My inhaler.”

Sick but knowing what he needed to do, Peter said, “I’ll come back for it. I’ve got to get you out.”

Holding her close and back bent as low as he could while holding her tight, he hurried out of the room, skirting the licking flames, into the slightly fresher air of the hall. When it was safe to do so, he straightened up and started running. The open door ahead of them seemed to have a siren call, and he ran to it, still coughing and listening to Liz wheezing.

“We’re almost there,” he rasped. “I’ve got you.”

They burst into the open air, and Peter rushed Liz to where the grouping of teachers and students were. Betty burst into tears at the sight of Liz in Peter's arms, and he tried to reassure her she was okay, but his voice seemed to have deserted him in favor of coughing.

Mr. Morita took Liz from his arms and laid her on a bench, her chest still rasping and sirens approaching, and Mrs. Warren placed her arm around Peter’s back and said, “Take it easy, Peter, nice deep breaths.”

Peter obeyed, drawing them in and feeling them burn his irritated lungs, and then he slipped out from under her arm and ran back toward the building.

As dangerous as he knew it was to go back into that fire, Liz was wheezing terribly, and there were no ambulances there yet. People could die from asthma, and he was not about to let someone else die because of him.

Someone caught his hand and shouted his name, but he ripped himself free and ran inside, no breath to tell them Liz needed her inhaler.

The smoke was even thicker in the hall now, and he tried to cover his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, but that made it even harder to breathe through his panic, and he gave up.

He reached the classroom and bent double as he dodged the flames and rushed inside. The smoke was thick, and he felt like he was choking to death, but he pushed himself forward.

For the first time, his close scrutiny of Liz, which MJ called stalking, paid off, as he knew her backpack was black with silver key fobs hanging from it. He edged the room, where the fire had not yet reached, and hoped Liz’s bag had not been found by the flames already.

He found a pile of them near the coat hooks, and he rifled through them, discarding the ones which did not match, eventually finding Liz’s and clutching it to his chest as he ran back towards the door. The flames were blocking him, though, and he felt a thrill of horror as he realized he was trapped.

He cried out for help, and then a voice roused in his mind, a voice which sounded like Ben’s. “You can do this, Peter. You can get out. Liz needs you out there.”

Nodding and rasping for air, Peter hooked the bag over his arm, took two steps back, and then leaped up, fingers clinging to the ceiling. He edged his way over the flames, the soles of his feet baking in the heat. When he reached the door, he gripped the jamb and swung his way out. 

Though the air in the hall was clearer, he was choking with each breath now, and when he reached the door, which seemed to take an age, he was stumbling.

Ned met him, his hands catching Peter’s shoulders, and he said, “Dude, what were you thinking?”

“Liz… inhaler,” Peter rasped, shoving the bag into his chest.

Ned gaped wordlessly, then grabbed the bag and ran it to where Liz was now sitting on a bench, clutching her chest.

Peter allowed himself to stop now, knowing everyone was safe, and he dropped to his knees and tried to breathe.

He could hear sirens, louder and closer now, and he was filled with relief. Someone tried to help him to his feet, but he couldn't stand. He heard Ned's voice chattering nervously in his ear, and Mr. Morita was saying his name, but it was a blur in his ears; the thing he could hear clearest was the rasping of his lungs.

Then a voice cut through the chaos, one he would know anywhere, and he dragged his face up and saw May running towards him, still in her scrubs—she must have come straight here from the hospital.

Her hands cupped his face, and she said, "Baby, are you okay?" in a voice which shook.

Peter gasped and coughed, tears filling his eyes, and he whispered, "I messed up, May."

She knelt in front of him, her hand cradling the back of his head and her free hand tugging open his collar to give him space to breathe, and he started to cry.

He was filled with relief that they’d all made it out, but he was horrified by what he had done.

He could have killed someone.

Chapter Text

September 10th

Tony was in his lab in the compound, turning a screwdriver over between his fingers like a baton, eyes staring blankly at the hologram in front of him.

He was struggling.

He missed Peter, was worried about what he was going through, and couldn't do anything about it. The only connection he had was through Friday, who monitored Karen, so he knew Peter was still working with the theory that this was some kind of test. As much as he hated the fact Peter thought he’d put him through something like that, he was glad Peter seemed set on path again to do what he needed to do and experience to be worthy when it mattered.

That was his priority, what they all needed to happen—Peter had to be worthy to live.

“Turn on the music, Friday,” he said dully.

A moment later, Led Zeppelin spilled from the speakers set in the walls, and Tony took a breath. He needed to do something. He couldn’t spend the next two weeks just waiting. The most testing time of all—taking the suit—was coming, and if he didn’t find a way to distract himself, he wasn’t going to be able to handle it.

He swiped through the options on his hologram and pulled up the plans for the Iron Spider suit. Mind had not yet told him, which possibly meant Peter hadn’t decided, whether or not he should offer him a place among the Avengers.

He was sure that, if he did offer, Peter would refuse.

Before, Peter had been consumed with becoming an Avenger, he'd fought for it, but that was not the Peter he lived with now. Peter had not been tested by the fight in Germany; he'd not decided he was ready. The Peter of this time was nowhere near as confident as that version of himself.

And that was because of Tony.

There was a hammering on the glass door behind him, and he turned on his stool to see Steve waving a hand at him.

Frowning, Tony said, “Open it up, Fri.”

The door swung open, and Steve rushed in, his chest heaving and eyes wild.

Panic clawed its way up Tony's throat, and he asked, praying for the answer that would make it possible for him to breathe again, "Is it Peter?"

Steve nodded, and Tony's heart plummeted, and his breath caught as Steve went on, "There's been an incident at his school. It's on the news."

“Friday, show me!” he ordered.

The schematics of Peter's suit was replaced by a news channel, which showed a chaotic scene outside Midtown High School. Ambulances and EMTs were tending to children and adults; two fire crews were aiming hoses that pumped water onto a flaming corner of the building; a crowd of people watched with cell phones recording footage which Tony knew would be uploaded to YouTube before the end of the day.

“Peter?” Tony asked, voice weak. “Was he there?”

“Yes, Boss,” Friday reported. “I traced his cell phone to the site earlier today.”

“Is he still there? Is he okay?”

“No, both his cell phone and May Parker’s are at Mount Sinai hospital.”

Tony groaned and massaged his temples with shaking hands. "I've got to go," he said. "I need to… Oh, god, Pete."

“You can’t go,” Steve said, voice strained.

Tony's incredulous eyes snapped to him. "What do you mean I can't go? I have to go! My kid is in the hospital!"

“We can’t risk the plan, Tony,” Steve said, hands clenching and relaxing at his sides. Tony could tell he was suffering with this, too, but he didn’t care. Only his pain and fear mattered to him.

“Screw the plan!”

“No!” Steve shouted, eyes burning with anger now. “Peter is alive. Peter will stay alive. If we interfere, if we break his path, he might not stay that way!”

Tony groaned and massaged his temples with shaking fingers. Though he saw the sense of Steve's words, he didn't want to hear it. His son was in the hospital, which meant he was hurt. Tony needed to be with him now. That was the need that was pressing in on his chest and making it hard to breathe.

“Listen to me, Tony,” Steve said fiercely. “This is about more than you. We all need Queens to live. You're hurting now, I know, me too, but if you change things, if he's not worthy, we'll all be hurting a lot more in 2023." His eyes narrowed. "Would you take Morgan's brother away from her?"

“Fuck you!” Tony spat. “You don’t get to say that to me! You don’t get to talk about my daughter!”

“I do! I get to because this is bigger than you! It’s me and Bucky, Rhodey and Nat. It’s everyone in 2023, including your daughter, and most importantly, it’s about your son. Peter sent you here because he trusts you—he needs you to save his life. You will not screw that up. I won’t let you!”

Though Tony heard the sense of the words and knew Steve was right, his need to be with Peter was overwhelming. His son needed him now.

“How are you going to stop me?” he snarled.

Steve squared his stance. “Don’t test me, Tony. I will hurt you to stop you.”

Tony shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “No, you won’t.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, then took a step forward and grabbed Tony's shoulders. "You are staying here until Mind tells us what to do."

“No!” Tony spat. “I am going to see my son.”

Steve gave his head a curt shake, said, “You’re making me do this,” and then swung out a fist and slammed it into the side of Tony’s head.

Tony dropped boneless towards the concrete floor, Steve catching him before he could hit his head again, and he heard Steve's voice from a distance.

“You made me, Tony. I had no choice.”

Darkness filled Tony's vision, and he slackened in Steve's arms as he lost consciousness.

xXx

Bucky couldn’t sit, he couldn’t stand still, all he could do was pace up and down behind the couch, listening to the news anchor reporting on the scene.

They had no idea what was happening to Peter, how hurt he was; they only knew he had been taken to hospital and that his aunt was with him.

Pepper had sprinted into the room thirty minutes earlier, eyes wide and desperate voice demanding information. Steve had told her Tony was in the med bay, unconscious, and that they were waiting for news on Peter, and she’d run out before asking anything else.

“And it appears the fire is out,” the news anchor announced. "On scene witness reports state that there was some kind of explosion. Whether it was an accident or terror-related, we do not yet know. Statements from the fire department chief and police chief are expected shortly."

“Was this Nemesis?” Rhodey asked, his voice heavy with worry.   

“We don’t know,” Steve said, his voice as strained as it had been since he carried an unconscious Tony out of the lab with the brief explanation of, “He made me do it.”

“Could be,” Natasha said thoughtfully. “I don’t think so, though. They must know they can’t kill Peter since they already tried and failed.”

“They could have wanted to injure him enough that he’s weak,” Sam pointed out. “I’ve seen the damage a bomb can do to a human body.”

“No!” Bucky said curtly. “It’s not like that!”

He turned away and closed his eyes. He had also seen what a bomb could do to people, he’d set bombs to do it, and he couldn’t imagine Peter with those kinds of injuries—limbs lost, horrific scarring, trauma which would last a lifetime for the lucky ones that lived.

“We don’t know anything for sure yet,” Steve said, his voice carefully controlled. “We have to wait for news.” He glanced right. “Vision?”

Vision shook his head. “There’s no sign of Mind yet. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Rhodey said. “He’ll come when he’s ready.”

"Until then, we have to wait," Bucky spat.

The elevator doors opened behind them, and Tony and Pepper came in. Tony looked pale, and there was a bruise blossoming on his left temple from Steve's fist. He didn't show any of the determination to go or anger at his interference that Steve had told them about.

Steve held up his hands and said, “Tony…”

Tony shook his head and winced, touching a finger to the bruise. “I know why you did it. When my head stops pounding, I’ll work on saying thanks. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“You wanted to be with Queens,” Steve said. “You’re not the only one.”

Bucky grimaced, the ache of worry in his chest growing. “We get it.”

Pepper saw Tony to the couch and sat down beside him. “Peter’s alive,” she said. “Obviously. But it sounds like he’s going to be okay-okay, not just alive. Friday accessed the medical reports."

Bucky breathed out a heady breath of relief and clutched his throat, which finally seemed to open to allow him to breathe freely. "Thank god."

Tony cleared his throat and said, avoiding meeting anyone’s eye, “The biggest problem he’s got is smoke inhalation, which is something I guess Spider-Man healing can't help. He's being kept in overnight, at least, while they give him oxygen. He’s lucky, though. The witness reports given to the police say he went back into the burning building twice after getting people out.”

“Sounds like Queens,” Steve said with a fond smile.

“It does,” Tony said, finally meeting Steve’s eye. “He risked his life.”

“Do we know what happened?” Pepper asked. “How the fire started?”

“Not yet,” Natasha said.

There was a small groan, a deeply drawn breath, and then Vision said, "I know."

Bucky looked at him and saw, just as he expected, that it was Mind in control again.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Peter caused the explosion.”

Gasps rippled around the room, and Tony buried his face in his hands and said, “The damn weapon.”

“Yes,” Mind said. “The Chitauri power core was exposed to radiation in the classroom and exploded. It’s pure chance that it happened. A student was experimenting with a uranium-enriched material; Peter was concerned, so he intervened. If he had not intervened, the uranium would have been placed in the cloud chamber, and the core would have been nowhere near it."

“So it was pure chance,” Bucky said. “Not Peter’s fault.”

“That is a topic which is dividing opinion,” Mind said, a small smile at the corners of his lips. “We believe that, no, it was not a matter of fault but chance as Peter’s protective nature changed his path. However…”

“Peter is blaming himself,” Tony said, voice torn between a sigh and a moan. “Of course he is.”

“Indeed,” Mind said. “That is not the issue I am here to discuss, though. There is something you need to do.” He fixed Tony in his gaze and waited until he had dragged his eyes up to meet his before going on. “It is time.”

Tony frowned. “Time for what?”

“Time for you to take the suit.”

“No!” Tony said, whipping his head from side to side. “It’s not yet. The ferry—”

“Will not happen,” Mind said. “That part, at least, is clear on Peter’s path. He is—both now and in the future—horrified by what happened. He will not be so careless again.”

Tony buried his head in his hands and fell into Pepper’s side, his face turning into her neck.

“What does this mean for the future?” Steve asked, his eyes tight with tension. “Will he be worthy?”

Mind’s face was grave as he replied. “That is the most unlikely outcome now. Being worthy is about so much more than morality or strength of body. It’s about who Peter is as a person. He didn’t feel himself worthy when he gained us, that was clear from the moment he discovered we were there, but there was the smallest part of him that would have known he was if he allowed himself to believe and trust in us. It was that part of him that accepted and embraced us eventually. He does not have even an inkling of that now. If there is not a vast shift, Peter will not be worthy.”

Bucky turned away, a scream building in his chest, which he swallowed with effort and breathed through the pain. Peter would not be worthy, which meant he would die. It would be for the sake of the universe, which Peter would do willingly in a heartbeat, but he would be gone.

“What do we do?” Tony croaked. “How do I fix it? I’ve got to…” He ran a shaky hand over his face. “How do I save him?” His voice became pleading. “Tell me, please, how do I save my son?”

Mind looked grave. “By following the plan Peter has laid out before you. Do what needs to be done.”

“There’s got to be more,” Bucky said, voice rough with emotion. “You’re the damn Infinity Stones. You have to be able to tell us more than that.” His voice rose to a shout. “How do we save his life?”

Mind's eyes were uncharacteristically sympathetic. "We do not know. None of us—not even Peter. All we can do is follow the plan we put in place. We hope things will be clearer when this is over, when Peter has faced the test coming for him. What we can all do—you now and us with him in the future—is support him as best you can. We don't know what Nemesis is going to do, their path is concealed from Time, but it will come, and you will all need to be there." He looked from Tony, whose eyes were wet and devoid of life, to Steve, who was swallowing convulsively and wiping at his face, to Rhodey, who was grim, Bucky, who felt like he was being burned at the stake, and said, "Love him."

Bucky nodded, unable to speak for fear of screaming instead, and Rhodey said, “We will.”

Mind looked at Bucky, eyes grave, and then turned back to Tony. “You have to take the next step alone. You need to go to Peter and take the suit. I suggest you do it tomorrow when he’s home from the hospital, but do not delay longer than that. It must be done soon.”

Tony flinched and whispered, “I’ve really got no choice?”

"None of you want him to live. Peter feels sure that these trials are what needs to happen, and we agree. He is still on track to face The Vulture when he hijacks your plane, as that will be a situation in which he is forced to act for your sake. But the ferry is something he did before because of hubris and determination to prove himself. That will not happen again.”

Tony bowed over, head in his hands. "I'm not sure I can do this," he moaned. “Not knowing what I know now.”

“You have no choice while you love him,” Mind said. 

“And you’ll never stop loving him,” Pepper said, running her hands through Tony’s hair. “You know you have to do this, honey.”

Tony nodded, face still hidden, and said, “Okay. Tomorrow. Please, tell Peter I’m sorry.”

Mind smiled slightly. “No matter how sorry you are for what must happen, I can promise Peter is ever more so; he hates that he has to ask you to do this. However, this is the last time you will be tried in this way. Soon, the threat from The Vulture will be gone, Peter will have faced these trials, and you need never hold back from him again.”

Tony raised his face. “You sure about that?”

Mind nodded. "We are all confident, Peter included, that the only way to face the threat that we believe is coming is to support him closely and protect him from whatever Nemesis throws at him. Trust Peter, Mr. Stark, the hardest part for you is almost over."

“And for Peter?” Bucky asked. “How hard is what comes after going to be for him?”

Mind cast his eyes down. “That we do not know but can only guess. We all believe it is going to be great, though—greater than what he faced from Ross and Thuri.”

Bucky turned away and gritted his teeth to hide his rising panic. He couldn’t imagine what could be worse for Peter than what Ross did to him, but he had a sick fear he was going to find out soon.

And if they did not turn this around, find a way, Peter would not live through the Snap. He would save the universe, save the life of everyone that loved him, but it would come at the cost of his life.

Chapter Text

September 11th

Peter's eyes blinked open slowly, and he rolled over with a groan. He'd been sleeping on and off all day, ever since he got home from the hospital after breakfast, and he was tired of it. He was frustrated by how weak he felt.

He struggled to sit up and was overcome with a coughing fit that wracked his chest. Eyes closed, he fumbled on the bedside table for a Kleenex, found one, and brought it to his mouth to spit out the foul stuff he was choking up. It had been the same since the fire—choking up black scum that seemed to fill his lungs.

He balled up the tissue and threw it into the trash, then struggled to his feet and made his way into the bathroom. He used the toilet, then washed his hands and rinsed his mouth with Listerine. His reflection met him when he raised his face, and he saw how awful he looked. His face was pale, his eyes still red and irritated by the smoke and shadowed from his broken night.

As much as he’d hated spending the night in the hospital, with cheerful nurses that praised his heroic actions with each visit to him, he hated being home, too. He didn’t know exactly what it was he did want, but he knew it wasn’t here.

The story of what he'd done after the explosion had spread fast through the people that had been there—going in to save Liz and then to retrieve her inhaler—and Liz's mother had come to his bedside to tearfully thank him. She and the nurses that heard the story all saw him as some kind of hero. Only Ned knew the truth, and his brief visit to Peter's bedside, three stitches closing the cut over his eye, had been as uncomfortable as any of them as Ned still saw him as some kind of superhero, even though he knew Peter had caused the explosion.

It was a little better to be at home, at least, away from that attention and praise he did not deserve.

He made his way slowly into the kitchen and fixed himself a glass of water, then plodded back into the living room and curled on the couch, pulling a blanket over himself.

May had gone to the store to stock up on all the things she thought he’d like and would be good for his sore throat—juice pops, Jell-O, and ice cream. She had been just as enthused and proud of his heroic actions as anyone, more even, but she’d dropped the praise when he told her it was all his fault. He didn’t explain why it was his fault, too ashamed to be honest with her, but she knew he was uncomfortable and so didn’t make it worse.

She’d walked out on her shift when she got the news about the fire, and she’d been given the weekend off to take care of him. She said he didn’t have to go back to school Monday if he didn’t want to, and he didn’t particularly want to see them all and hear them talking about how he’d been a hero, but he knew he couldn’t hide at home forever.

He had to face it and hope it passed quickly and was replaced with some other great event in the life of a high school—like someone coming out of the bathroom with toilet paper stuck to their shoe. 

He hid his face under the blanket and then flung it back and froze, eyes wide, when he heard a firm knock on the front door. May had her key, and no one else was likely to visit. He was worried someone had decided to track him down and torture him at home with their enthusiastic praise.

Still, he was Ben and May Parker's nephew, he'd been raised to face things, so he threw back the blanket and made his way down the hall, calling, "Hang on," when the knock came again.

He unlocked the door and ease it open, and then stopped, breath frozen in his lungs and eyes wide as he saw Tony on the other side, his tinted glasses hiding his eyes and his jaw set. His brow was strangely colored on one side, almost as if he was wearing concealer.

“Hello, Peter,” he said stiffly.

"I thought you were in India," Peter said, covering his mouth with his sleeve as the words made him cough again.

“I came home when I heard what happened. We need to talk.”

Chilled with fear, sure that he had finally met someone that wasn't going to praise him, he stepped back and gestured Tony inside. He didn't understand how Tony could know what he'd done, but he was sure Tony knew more than anyone else.

Tony marched down the hall into the living room and stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

Cowardly, Peter took his time closing the door and making his way back to join him.

“Do you want to sit down?” he asked tentatively.

Tony nodded curtly. “As long as you do. You look like you’re about to fall down.”

Peter sank down onto the couch and curled his legs up in front of him. He also wanted to bundle the blanket around him, but he resisted the urge.

“How do you feel?” Tony asked.

Peter licked his lips and said, “I’m fine,” though it was quickly dispelled by another wheezing cough.

Tony flinched slightly, his hands clenching and flexing on his lap. "What happened, Peter?"

Peter couldn’t meet his eye as he answered. “It was my fault. I had one of the weapons that were being sold, and I took it to school. It had this power core that it was purple and glowed. I don't know exactly how it happened, it just got hot, and then— I tried to put it in the cloud chamber because I thought it was going to blow, but I was too late. It exploded."

Tony nodded again, cleared his throat, and said, “It was a Chitauri weapon core, by the sounds of it. I’m guessing it was exposed to radiation.”

“Yeah,” Peter said quietly. “That makes sense. Flash was doing something with a uranium source.”

Tony took a deep breath, swallowed noisily, and said, “You know it can’t go on, right?”

Peter frowned at him. “Uh… no, I don’t know what you mean.”

Tony turned his face away as he answered. “Spider-Man. The suit. I can’t have you running around New York with my property if you’re doing stupid things like that. It makes it my responsibility, you’re my responsibility, and I can’t have it on my conscience.”

Peter felt prickling behind his eyes as he was swamped with horror. He was going to lose the suit. He understood it, it was what should happen, but he saw his whole life crumbling in front of him with Tony’s words.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

Tony seemed to glance at him for a moment, though Peter couldn’t see his eyes, and he said, “I told you that you had a clean record. You don’t have that anymore. It’s pure chance that no one was killed. That core must have been depleted by their interference when they put it in a weapon. If it had been at full power, it wouldn’t be one classroom destroyed—it would have been the block.”

Peter flinched and bowed his head.

"You could have killed people, Peter. You could have died yourself. Do you know what that would have—" He stopped, gritted his teeth, and breathed through his nose.

“I’m really sorry,” Peter said quietly. “I know that doesn’t really mean anything because I did what I did, but I never meant to hurt anyone.”

Tony’s face was pained, almost tortured, and Peter guessed he was thinking of just how many people Peter could have killed with his stupidity. Peter was thinking of that, too.

The explosion and what followed were blurred in his mind now, but some things stood out: Liz’s wheezing breaths, Mr. Hapgood’s limp weight as he’d lifted him, the bloody cut over Ned’s eye. They were all people he’d hurt, lives he’d risked.

Tony had been testing him, and Peter could not have failed more spectacularly if he’d tried.

“I’ll go get the suit,” Peter said quietly.

He got to his feet and went into his bedroom, heart racing and breaths coming in choking rasps as he battled to not cry. He took the silver case which his suit was stored in from the closet, gripped the handle tight and whispered, stupidly, “Bye, Karen,” then carried it back into the living room.

Tony was on his feet, and he held out a hand for the case. Peter handed it over, a heavy feeling in his gut, as if he was handing over something so much more substantial than just a suit; it was almost as if he was handing over his whole life. 

“Thank you,” Tony said curtly. “About the internship… I need to think and—”

Peter cut him off, not able to bear hearing the words from his hero. “I know I can’t be an intern anymore. You can’t have someone like me representing Stark Industries. I get it. I’m just… Thank you for the opportunity. I’m really sorry for putting your reputation at risk.”

Tony took a deep breath and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, and then he gave his head a curt shake and said, “Thank you for understanding,” in a voice that shook with what Peter assumed was suppressed rage.

Peter thought he’d gotten off lucky with Tony not raging at him. Perhaps he already knew Peter was in hell without him adding to it. He knew exactly what he had done and how much worse it could have been. Ben’s death was on his conscience because he had not acted to save him, but these lives would have been lost because he had acted. 

Peter saw his own pale face reflected in Tony's glasses for a moment as he looked at him, and then he said, "Take care of yourself, Pete," and marched out of the room.

Peter trailed after him, holding the door as Tony slipped through it, and said, “Mr. Stark…”

Tony stiffened, and half turned towards him. "Yes."

"I'm really sorry for letting you down. You trusted me to do better, and I messed up. I just…"

“Just what?” Tony asked, the words seeming to catch in his throat as if he did not want to release them.

“I wanted to make you proud,” Peter whispered.

Tony walked away without a word, his footsteps brisk on the tile floor, but as Peter closed the door and sagged against it, he heard Tony say, “Dammit, Pete.”

Tears filled Peter’s eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He’d thought he couldn’t feel worse about what he’d done, but he did now. He’d lost the suit, he’d lost the internship and his time with Tony, he’d lost Karen. He didn’t know for sure, as he still had his old suit, but he wasn't sure he could ever use it again.

He might have lost Spider-Man, too.

xXx

When May got home, twenty minutes later, Peter had retreated to the couch and was buried under the blanket, tears still streaming down his face.

“Hey, sweetie,” she called from the door. “I’m home. How are you feeling?”

Peter didn’t answer, and he heard her footsteps approaching, and then a soft gasp and thump as, he assumed, she set down the grocery bags.

“Peter! Baby, are you feeling ill? Are you in pain?” Light burgeoned behind Peter’s closed eyes as she pulled back the blanket. “Talk to me.”

“I messed up, May,” he moaned, fixing wet eyes on her worried face. “I really messed up.”

“Oh, honey.” She stroked his hair back from his face. “You were a hero.”

Peter closed his eyes again, fresh tears creeping down. May lifted him and sat down beside him, pulling him against her. He hid his face in her neck and sobbed.

“Talk to me, Peter. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

With a supreme effort, Peter sat up and wiped at his face, smearing the tears. He knew the moment had come for him to tell her the truth; it was the only way he could make her understand what he had done.

“I’m Spider-Man,” he said in a whisper.

“You’re what?” she asked, leaning closer to hear him.

Peter cleared his throat, a stab of pain following. “I’m Spider-Man. The vigilante The Daily Bugle is always talking about.”

May’s mouth dropped open. “What? You’re… No! You can’t be. I saw what he can do. One of the kids in pediatrics is a fan. He showed me videos of him. He… he stopped a speeding car! He can climb walls! That can’t be you!”

Peter sucked in a shaky breath and pushed back the blanket. He got to his feet, his throat tight with tears, and jumped onto the ceiling and turned, hanging by his feet.

May jumped up and held out her hands as if she thought she needed to catch him, and then she seemed to accept what she was seeing. Her hands flew to her face, eyes wide above her fingers.

“Peter!” she shrieked. “How?”

Peter dropped to the floor again and curled on the couch. He took a breath, coughed, then told her everything: from the field trip and spider bite to Ben—his heart ached as he told her that part of the story, and he stopped and awaited her judgment, but she merely nodded for him to go on, sitting down beside him and clasping her hands in her lap.

He told her about how he'd started out as Spider-Man, how he'd told Tony about it, and they'd made the suit. With shame and fresh tears spilling, he told her about the weapon he'd found, how he'd taken it to school to examine it, and finally, in stilted sentences, he'd told her about the explosion.

When he finished, he forced himself to look at her. She seemed pained, her eyes were tight, and she finally said, “I wish I’d known.”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Peter said quietly. “Not after Ben.”

She gave her head a brisk shake and said, “Okay, we’ll start there. What happened to Ben was not your fault. It was Dennis Carradine that shot him.”

“I could have—”

She held up a hand. “You weren’t Spider-Man when it happened. You didn’t have the skills and tools you have now. It was not your fault.”

Peter stared at her, seeing her sincerity, and it made a wave of shame well in his stomach. He knew better, he knew he shared the blame, but he accepted she would not see it as she loved him.

"And what happened at the school…" She bit her lip. "Yes, you have some of the blame for that, but it was an accident. You didn't know what it was, and you didn't know what would happen. And after it happened, you went back into a burning building twice to save people. That's heroic, Peter, no matter what caused the circumstances."

“No, it was my fault.”

She cupped his cheek in her hands and said, “You’re too much like Ben for me to argue, so I won’t, but I know better.” She lowered her hands and clasped them in her lap. “And now we need to talk about Tony Stark.”

Peter flinched. “He took the suit back, and I’ve lost the internship because of what I did.”

She sighed. “Well, yes, that’s a problem. I know how much it meant to you to have that internship, and I know from what Tony said that you were good at it. We don’t need the money, though. You can get a scholarship for college, or we’ll find another way. We will make it work, honey. Just because you don’t have Tony Stark or his money anymore, it doesn’t mean your future is going to be any less amazing.”

Peter gave her a watery smile. "You know, I didn't even think about the money part. I'm just… I'm so ashamed, May. I let him down."

She smiled slightly. “Yes, you did, but he let you down, too. He should have told me about you being Spider-Man the moment he found out, and he should have been there supporting you when you told him what you’d seen. You did tell him, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t his fault. It’s not an Avengers thing, and he’s really busy. He had to go away. He only came back because he heard what I did."

My eyes softened. "I know no fifteen-year-old wants to hear this, but you are only fifteen, Peter. You shouldn't have been in a position to make those choices—none of them. Yes, you did mess up, and people were hurt, but it was while you were trying to do the right thing. I'm not happy with what happened or that you hid this Spider-Man thing from me, but now I know, we’re going to work it out together.”

“I don’t think I should do it anymore, May," he said. “Be Spider-Man, I mean. I hurt people.”

"And before that, you saved them," she said. "I know that part doesn't seem big to you right now, but it does to me. You don't need to decide now. Honestly, I'd sleep better at night if I knew you weren't out there facing muggers and robbers with alien weapons, but I know you." She stroked a lone tear from his cheek. "You don't need Tony Stark or his fancy suit. You and me, we only need each other."

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. For the first time since the explosion, he felt maybe things would be okay after all.

Maybe he hadn’t lost it all—but he had lost enough.

xXx

When Tony got back to the penthouse, there was no one there, not even Pepper.

He was relieved. He’d thought they all might have come to hear how it had gone with Peter, and he didn’t want to relive the nightmare of the past hour for them. He’d done what needed to be done, he had the suit back, and Peter’s heart was broken. No one could ask anything more of him now because he had nothing left to give.

Talking to Peter had been awful. His son was pale and red-eyed from the smoke; his eyes were shadowed with how rundown his body was; he’d coughed and wheezed for his words.

All Tony had wanted to do was to take him in his arms, tell him he understood, that he was sorry for what he’d let happen. He would have said he would have been there, stopped Peter from taking that weapon if he could. But he’d not been allowed. Mind’s words, Peter’s through him, had forced him into that hellish position.

He loved his son, would never stop loving him no matter what he said or did, but for a moment, while looking into the eyes of his younger self, he'd wanted to curse Peter for putting him through this.

It was a weak, selfish moment, and he’d quickly banished it, but he hated that it had come at all. None of this was Peter’s fault. He had sent them there to save his own life, and he’d forced Tony to do that, take the suit, because he believed it was the only way for him to survive when it mattered.

He threw the case containing Peter's suit onto the floor then went to the fridge for a beer. He twisted off the cap, gulped it down, and wished it was whiskey. But he would not do that. He wasn’t going to drink himself to oblivion when there were two children waiting for him in 2023, one of which he’d also have in just two weeks in some form. And Mind had promised that was the end of him keeping a distance. After this, he would never have to hurt Peter again.

He grabbed another beer and carried it to the couch, but before he could drop down onto it, Vision drifted through the wall.

“Not now, Vis,” he said tiredly. “I can’t take more.”

“I’m Mind.”

Tony looked up. “Then I definitely can’t take more. Please, whatever you think I need to do, however I’ve got to hurt my kid next, save it for another day. I’ve given enough already.”

He smiled slightly. “We know that. Peter knows that. He’s waiting for you now.”

Tony's fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle, and his eyes widened. "What?"

“If you were to use BARF now, Peter would come.”

Tony didn't speak. He ran from the room, carelessly dropping the beer bottle onto the counter, so it toppled and rolled onto the floor to smash, but he didn't stop. He skipped the elevator and sprinted down the stairs to the lab floor, charged down the hall, and threw open the glass door as Friday unlocked it for him.

With shaking hands, he fumbled in the drawer for the case containing the glasses, tore it open, and slipped them on, his breath trapped in his lungs.

The scene formed, Peter’s bedroom in the compound, and he stared around. There was a soft breath behind him, a small gasp, and he spun around to see Peter. His rainbow eyes were wet with tears and his mouth a steep downward turn.

Tony didn't stop to talk, greet, or apologize; he merely crossed the room with sweeping strides and pulled his son into his arms.

"Oh, god, Pete…" he said, his throat closing around the words, and tears filled his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said into his neck. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to have to do it, I really didn’t, but there was no choice.”

“I know, I know,” Tony said, cradling the back of his head and feeling Peter’s quick breaths on his neck. “I understand.”

Peter held him tighter, his breaths coming fast and shaky, and Tony soothed him wordlessly, humming and shushing him as Peter cried.

It took a long time, it could have been hours for all Tony knew, but Peter calmed slightly and loosened his grip. Tony held him at arm’s length and then pulled him closer to press a kiss to his temple.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” Peter said, voice choked. “I’m sorry for what I made you do.”

“And I’m sorry for doing it to you. This past hour was… It was hell, Pete, but it’s what it took to save you.”

At least they hoped it would work. Peter living was the least likely outcome now, which tore Tony apart.

Peter mopped his face with his sleeve. “It is the best chance, we’re sure. And I have to be alive. Nemesis will come in 2023, and without me having The Stones, there’s no one that can fight them.”

Tony's eyes grew wet again as he listened, knowing that without Peter alive, Ego would never be free to threaten them. He wondered if that would have made a difference if Peter knew Nemesis would not come. Would he still have sent them back to save him, to suffer at times, and for Tony to be away from Morgan, if it was just about saving his own life?

He didn’t think so, and that made the tears spill down his cheeks afresh.

Peter's face fell, and he wiped at Tony's face. "It was good in a way,” he said in a rallying tone. “I won’t interfere with the weapons deal now, so those lives won’t be risked on the ferry. And things have already changed for me. I’m telling May about being Spider-Man.” He smiled slightly. “I’m not alone now. I’ve got her support.”

“Thank god,” Tony breathed.

“And without the weapon, there won’t be the accident in Washington. Though that probably would have been better, since no one was actually hurt when that happened. This time I—”

“This time doesn’t matter,” Tony said forcefully. “What happened was an accident. I know that. And this is it—I am going to be there soon. I can be, right? Mind said I don’t have to hold you at a distance anymore.”

Peter nodded eagerly, the force of his smile offset by the drying tears on his cheeks. “Yes. It’s almost over. I can see all of you soon.” His smile grew. “Bucky, too.”

Tony huffed a laugh. "Yeah, I figured that was coming. I'll give you the full Avengers introduction soon; let them meet Spider-Man."

“Great,” Peter said, his hands flexing at his sides. “Because I’ve not seen them in so long, apart from Bucky and Steve, and I only saw Rhodey a few times. I miss them all. Here, where I am, I’m just watching.”

“Is it hard?” Tony asked. “Is it too hard?”

Peter shook his head jerkily. “Not too hard. It’s not easy, no, and I miss everyone, but if I wasn’t locked away like this, time would move for them too. You, the ones I sent back, are basically just shells now. I mean, you're breathing and everything, but you're deeper under than even a coma. I can’t put Pepper through that, and Morgan; she’d want to know where you are.”

Tony sighed. “I know, kid. I’m just sorry it has to be this way. I don’t like to think of you all alone.”

“I’ve got The Stones.”

Tony scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure Power is a real delight.”

Peter chuckled. “He’s not so bad—he’s just got a temper. I don’t see it much anymore. I’m okay, though. I talk to them and sometimes Vision, I watch things change, and I remember.”

Tony cupped his face in his hands, just relishing the contact with his son as he truly was for the first time in so long.

Peter placed his hands over Tony's, his warm fingers an embrace, and said, "We've got time. I'm not too tired now, so we can talk."

Tony smiled widely. “Perfect. Let’s get comfy.” He dropped down on Peter’s bed and patted the spot beside him. Peter grinned and sat, then lay, with his cheek pillowed on Tony’s chest, his arm wrapped around him.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“What life was life after The Snap,” Peter said. “Tell me about Pepper and Morgan, about your wedding; I want to know it all.”

Tony ran his hands through Peter’s hair as he started to tell his tale, purposefully avoiding the parts he was ashamed of, like his downward spiral after Peter’s death.

“Okay, I’ve got a good story for you. Me and Happy went shopping for baby clothes before Morgan was born, and there was this kid with a t-shirt that said, 'I'm The Big Brother,' and I wanted one for you…”

Chapter Text

34. The Crash

September 28th

Tony’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he took it out and answered, not glancing at the screen to see who was calling as he already knew.

“Hey, Hap.”

“Okay, Boss, I just got the call from Peter’s friend Ned. I hung up on him like you told me.”

Tony grimaced, but his tone was grateful as he said, “Thank you, Happy.”

“I still think this stinks, though. I’m finishing up the plane right now, it’s almost loaded, and then we’re about to send it off to be hijacked.”

“I know,” Tony sighed. “But I told you, this is what has to happen.”

“Yeah, I know, but it stinks.”

Tony huffed a laugh. “Believe me, Hap, what I’m about to stand by and watch happen stinks even more. But it’s what has to happen. Peter told us, Mind told us, it’s the last step.”

Happy grumbled inarticulately and said, “I guess I’ll see you later then.”

“I’m sorry about making you do this. It’s hard on all of us. But it’s almost over.”

“It damn well better be, since I’m not sure I can stand by and see him go through something like this again, whatever the reason. This goes against everything I want and believe in.”

“Me too,” Tony said, voice strained. “I’ve got to go, Hap. I’ll see you soon.”

He ended the call before Happy could say anything else and stuffed it back in his pocket.

“He’s upset?” Steve asked, standing at Tony’s side.

Tony gave a grim laugh. “Your super-soldier hearing means you heard it all, too, so you already know. Happy is not remotely happy right now. He’s bonded with Peter already, much faster this time, and I’ve put him in a hell of a position.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m an asshole.”

“No!” Steve gripped his shoulder, a little too hard. “You’re not. If you messed this up, interfered with the plan, that would make you an asshole. You’re doing this because it’s the right thing for Queens. And you told me he’s just as sorry for making you do this as you are for doing it.”

Tony nodded, a small smile playing around his lips as he thought of the hours he’d spent with his son through BARF before Peter needed to go to rest. They had been the very best thing to happen to him since he came back to 2016. For just a while, he'd been with his son as he was supposed to be—he could tell him he loved him.

“He was,” he said.

They waited in silence a little longer before hearing the squeal of tires, and a car skidded to a halt just in front of their hiding place on the roof of a low building. They were out of sight, hidden in the shadows, looking at the warehouse Tony had tracked Toomes' operations to—the warehouse he knew was soon going to fall on his son.

Peter jumped out of the car in his old suit, the homemade one which offered him no protection. He looked so vulnerable in it that a lump formed in Tony’s throat. Peter disappeared inside the warehouse, and Tony took a breath and waited.

Steve seemed concentrated, and Tony guessed he was listening to what was being said within the factory. He was glad that he couldn’t hear it because he thought it would break him to hear and not be able to help.

“He’s holding his own,” Steve murmured. “He’s brave.”

“He always is,” Tony said, his voice filled with pride in his son.

Even the times in which Peter had seemed weak, the weeks of catatonia, it had been Peter’s strength and drive to protect them that had made it happen. He’d been strong enough and brave enough to lock himself away from them because he believed he was a threat to them.

Steve’s hand snapped out and tightened around Tony’s wrist. “It’s time. Remember, he’s going to be fine. It’s almost over.”

Tony drew a breath, locked it in his lungs, and braced himself for what he was going to see.

A vast shape flew into the air as a creaking and groaning sound came from the warehouse. Tony’s lungs emptied in a rush, and he resisted the urge to close his eyes and hide from this horror.

“He’s okay. He’s going to be fine. He’s okay,” Steve chanted.

Tony nodded and then jolted with shock as the building started to fall, the roof collapsing, the walls buckling, and a cloud of dust pouring into the air.

“Oh, god,” he moaned.

“He’s okay,” Steve said again.

His grip on Tony tightened as if he thought Tony was going to rush away, to go to Peter. Tony was tempted, but he knew he couldn't. Not only was it against the plan, the mission, but Steve would also knock him out again if he tried.

The destroyed building settled, and Tony tried not to imagine Peter trapped beneath. He had seen it, though, through Peter's experience with BARF, and he remembered his scared voice as he'd cried for help. He couldn't hear it now, he was too far away, but he was sure Steve could, a certainty strengthened when Steve's face became a picture of pain, and he dropped his grip on Tony to tighten his hands into fists over his heart.

“It’s almost over,” Steve said, seeming to be speaking to himself this time.

Tony nodded, gritted his teeth, and waited.

It seemed to take too long, and he started to worry something had gone wrong, that Peter had been changed too much to save himself. Then Steve huffed out a breath and said, “That’s it, Queens, you’ve got it.”

Tony saw the rubble move, huge sheets of concrete shifting, and then Peter appeared. He was bloody and covered with dust, but he was doing it. He pulled himself free from the rubble, his movements unsteady, and then shook himself off.

Tony stared at him, yearning to help, but Steve cut into his thoughts. “It’s time to go, Tony. We’ve got to get to the beach.”

Tony nodded and made his way across the room to the fire escape. His heart raced as he walked, an agitating sensation in his chest, and in his mind, he seemed to hear Peter’s voice.

“It’s almost over. It’s nearly time. Just one more fight.”

Tony nodded in response, feeling strengthened and calmer.

He could do this. For Peter, he would do whatever it took.

xXx

Steve held his breath as the roar of the low-flying plane approached. He could feel Tony’s tension from his place beside him, and Steve tried and failed not to imagine Peter clinging to the side of that plane.

The wing clipped a rollercoaster and plummeted towards the beach. With a rumbling roar, an explosion of flame and smoke, it crashed. Steve locked his feet in place and forced himself to just watch as Peter appeared.

The man in the wingsuit—Toomes Tony said he was really called—approached Peter as he tugged off his mask, his body wracking with coughs from the smoke. The claws of the suit lifted Peter into the air and dropped him again. Steve flinched and then fisted his hands as it happened again. Peter was lifted and dropped. It looked like Toomes was trying to break his spine.

He wouldn’t, they were sure, as Mind would have known. Time would have warned him; he’d seen this part of Peter’s path clearly. Still, it was horrific to watch Peter being tossed around like a rag doll.

Tony was poised on the balls of his feet, ready to rush forward when it was time, and Steve touched his arm, a both comfort and reassurance for himself.

The wings of the suit were sparking, and Steve thought they were about to blow. Toomes landed, leaving Peter limp on the sand, and prised  open one of the boxes.

“Look at my kid,” Tony said, his voice a mixture of pain and pride. “He’s going to save him.”

They saw Peter struggle to his feet and gesture wildly. Toomes shoved him away; Peter landed on the sand again, inches from a piece of burning wreckage. The sparks from the wings were increasing.

Peter tried to stop him, shooting a web at the crate Toomes was opening, and a tug of war ensued. Peter was thrown back again, and he said something Steve couldn’t hear over the crackle of flames.

Then, with no more warning than one last, slightly larger spark, the wingsuit exploded. Peter struggled forward, his movements uncoordinated, and Steve lost sight of what he was doing for a moment, hidden by smoke.

When he appeared again, he was carrying the limp form of Toomes. He dropped him onto the sand and collapsed beside him.

“Now?” Tony asked hopefully. “Can we go now?”

Steve wanted to say yes, he wanted to go to Peter, but he thought they had to wait a moment longer. Tony said Happy had found Toomes webbed to a crate, and they needed to let that happen.

With his heart racing and breaths coming quick as he fought to stand still, watching Peter as he staggered forwards and began to shoot webs at Toomes, both restraining him and making it impossible for anyone to steal whatever was in the large crate.

“Now,” he said, as Peter began to stumble away, veering from side to side with a hand held to his head.

Tony sprinted forward before Steve had even started moving, but Steve quickly fell into step at his side. Peter didn’t seem to notice them coming, lost in a daze, but when Tony called his name, he looked up, and his lips parted with shock.

“It’s okay, Queens,” Steve called.

Before they were more than six feet from him, Peter's legs gave way, and he dropped to his knees, reeling from side to side like he was on a rolling ship.

“Call the tower,” Tony ordered Steve. “I want a med-team here.”

“No,” Peter said, raising a shaking hand. "I'm fine."

“You’re really not, kid,” Tony said.

Peter fell forwards, and Tony caught him. He turned him and held him against his chest, one hand in Peter's hair, fingers tangling in his dusty and sandy strands, and the other pulling up the front of Peter's sweatshirt and exposing his chest and stomach. There were deep gouges, which Steve guessed were left by the claws that had lifted him into the air, and black bruises forming.

“Call the tower, Steve!” Tony said roughly.

“We’d be better getting him to them than waiting for them to get to us,” he replied. “We’ll drive him.”

“I want to go home,” Peter said weakly.

“Soon,” Steve promised. “We’ve got to get you fixed up first. Tony, can you carry him?”

Tony nodded, eased his arms under Peter, and got to his feet.

Tony carried Peter and Steve took the lead back to the car. When they reached the place they’d left it, he opened the door and helped Tony guide Peter onto the backseat. Tony slid in beside him and moved Peter, so he was leaning against his side.

Steve rushed to the driver's door, got in, and started the engine.

“You’re okay, Pete,” Tony said softly in the back. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I want to go home,” Peter said again in a small voice.

“Soon,” Tony soothed. “We’ll get you checked out first. Pete? Peter!”

“What’s wrong?” Steve barked, glancing into the rearview mirror, and seeing Tony holding Peter upright and patting his cheek.

“He passed out,” Tony said roughly, “Drive faster, Steve.”

Steve slammed his foot down onto the gas and steered them through the traffic, heading to the tower.

xXx

Peter awoke as Tony and Steve eased him out of the back of the car, and Tony carried him into the elevator. He heard Friday's voice greeting them and announcing the med-team was waiting and that Happy had reached Coney Island with the cleanup crew.

Peter flinched, which seemed to draw Tony’s attention to the fact he was conscious again. His voice was soft as he said, “I’ve got you, Pete. We’re getting you to help now.”

Peter gave no response. He was confused, scared, and in pain. He didn’t understand how Tony could be so gentle with him when he had to be furious at what Peter had done. Not only had he gone out as Spider-Man again, against Tony’s wishes, he’d also crashed his plane.

It had all happened so fast, Peter had been trying to help, again, but he could have killed someone on the beach. He might still have. He'd not checked, and he was too cowardly to ask now.

They rode up, and then Tony carried him through a sliding glass door into a room with bright white lights, which made Peter's eyes burn. He squeezed them shut, and Tony made a soft, soothing sound.

A voice he’d heard before, the woman that had fixed his hand when he’d cut it open making dinner with Tony, said, “Okay, what have we got here?

“It’s Peter Parker—Spider-Man, which absolutely comes under your NDA,” Tony said, voice rough. “Our regular drugs aren’t going to work. Use Steve’s.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “That compound is very strong.”

“He needs painkillers!” Tony snapped. “Look at him!”

“Easy, Tony,” Steve said.

Peter felt the cot he was on moving, and he opened his eyes again to see the ceiling whipping past above him. They passed through a door, and the bed came to a stop. There were at least four people around the bed, one of whom was Tony at his side, and their voices spoke over each other.

“Mr. Stark, you need to give us space,” a man said.

Tony cursed under his breath and then placed his hand on Peter’s chest, and he leaned close. “I won’t be far away,” he said, his tone a promise. “They’re going to help you now.”

Peter nodded, still confused by this gentle version of his former mentor after what he’d done to his property. He wondered if he was more hurt than he realized. Maybe he was dying, so Tony was going to write-off what he’d done.

He felt a chill of fear at the thought, but before he could ask if that was what was happening, Tony moved back and was replaced with the woman he recognized as being called Sophia.

“We’re going to need to cut the suit off,” she said.

“No,” Peter moaned. “I need it.”

“We’ve got no choice, Peter,” she said gently.

Peter turned his face away and closed his eyes. A tear crept down the side of his face.

“Get an IV line in,” someone said, and Peter felt someone pick up his hand and then a pinch as the needle went in. He stayed still with his eyes closed, resisting them when they asked him to open them. He wanted to be unconscious again. At least then, he was out of pain and away from the horror and fear of what he'd done.

He felt his suit being cut away and heard voices discussing the wounds he could feel but not see. He'd felt each of them as they were being made by Mr. Toomes’ claws sinking into his flesh.

“Okay, Peter, we’re going to give you something for the pain now.”

Peter nodded, eyes still closed. There was a strange pressure in the back of his hand, and then a warmth replaced it, spreading up his arm. Whatever they'd given him was powerful, and he felt it cushioning him from the world, but it didn’t knock him out. He felt like he was in a daze, half-asleep but feeling what was happening to him, hearing the voices speaking urgently. He tried to ignore it, pretending he was home in his bed on a lazy Sunday morning, but he wasn’t successful.

He wished the drugs were stronger. 

xXx

Peter was still being treated, Tony exiled to waiting outside, when May Parker walked into the med bay. She looked harried, her hair falling out of its barrette and eyes roving around.

They fell on Tony, and a storm of anger filled her face. Before Tony could do more than say, "He's going to be okay. They're taking—" she had marched towards him and slammed a fist into his jaw.

She hit a lot harder than he’d expected, and he reeled back, his hand coming to cradle the spot.

“You bastard!” she shouted. “You— I can’t— Where’s Peter?”

Tony pointed to the door, and she strode through it. He heard her say, "Peter, honey, I'm here," before it slid closed again behind her.

He noted that no one made May leave, though perhaps they could see that they had no chance in persuading her to leave her nephew.

Tony leaned back against the wall and groaned. He was alone for a moment, as Pepper was dealing with the officials regarding what had happened on Coney Island, and Steve had gone to get them coffee.

He was glad to be alone, to feel freely for a while. He was overwrought and exhausted. What scared him was that he didn’t know if Peter had been this hurt before, when he’d been alone with his injuries, or if this time it was somehow worse. He hated the thought that Peter could have struggled home like this, bleeding and in pain, without anyone to help.

He massaged his temples where a headache was building to join the pain in his jaw, dropping his hands when Steve reappeared, holding two mugs of coffee.

“What happened?” he asked.

“May arrived,” Tony said. “She punched me.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Did you expect that? I never got the feeling she was violent from what you and Peter told me about her.”

“No, but she didn’t know the whole story last time.”

“You want some ice for it?”

Tony shook his head. “I can handle it. This doesn’t hurt nearly as much as a punch from you.”

Steve winced.

“Have you heard from anyone back at the compound?” Tony asked.

“Bucky called. I filled him in on what’s going on. He’s just about losing his mind, but he promised to stay locked down there.”

“Good,” Tony said. “The last thing we need is him arriving and being seen by everyone.”

“He knows that. I promised I’d call again as soon as we know anything new.”

The door opened behind them, and Sophia came out. She looked solemn, but her first words were reassuring. "He's okay. Sleeping now. We’ll move him to a room soon.”

“How badly hurt is he?” Steve asked.

"He's got broken ribs and deep gouge marks from whatever was used on him, which we've closed with strips instead of stitches since he's already healing. Otherwise, I think it's just shock and trauma wearing him down." She frowned. "He didn't want us to cut off his suit."

Tony flinched. “Probably thinks it’s the only one he’s got now. It’s not.”

Sophia frowned at the vehemence in his voice. "Okay."

The door opened again, and Peter's bed was wheeled out by a man in scrubs, May walking close behind. Peter was sleeping, his chest rising in shallow breaths, which Tony guessed was his body's automatic defense from the pain of his broken ribs. He was pale, his lip was split, and there was a cut over his eye, but he looked a lot better now the blood and grime from the warehouse had been washed away.

The bed was wheeled past him, turning right towards the patient rooms, but May stopped, said, “I’ll be with you soon, honey,” then turned to Tony, her eyes blazing. 

“You can punch me again if you like,” he said.

“I probably should, since I obviously didn’t do it hard enough last time as you’re still here.”

“I’m—”

Tony's apology was cut off as she raised her hand. "One question first: was anyone else hurt?"

“Only the person Peter stopped from stealing the cargo. No civilians were hurt at all.”

May breathed a sigh of relief, her eyes closing a moment, then they opened and fixed him in her glare. “You took his suit away.”

“I did.”

“You left him unprotected.”

“I did.”

“You broke his heart.”

Tony swallowed hard. “I know.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. "At least you're not denying it." She sighed. "I know why you felt you had to do it; I probably would have done the same in your position, but…" She shook her head. "You should have told me my underage nephew was running around as some kind of superhero, putting himself in danger."

“I thought it was up to Peter to tell you,” he replied.

That was true both times he’d lived through these days, though he’d given it less thought last time. Peter had told her sooner this the time than before; he’d chosen to be honest rather than being caught unawares in the suit.

“It wasn’t,” she said stiffly. “Look, I want to get back to my kid, but I need to know now, before I decide to take him out of this place and never allow him to come back, what are you going to do next?”

Tony frowned. “Do you mean immediately or…”

“I mean for Peter. Are you going to support him the way you did before, help him do his Spider-Man thing, or is you being here just guilt because he almost died saving your stuff?”

“No!” Tony said quickly. “I’m here because I’m worried about him and want to help. I will help him in the future, I promise. I will never cut him off again. From now on, I'm going to be there for him one hundred percent."

She frowned. “You seem pretty certain.”

Tony opened his mouth to answer and then snapped it closed again. He wanted to tell her the truth, he thought it was the only way to make her understand, but he wasn’t sure he should. To tell her was to risk her knowing she was doomed to die in five years.

“We are all certain, Mrs. Parker,” Steve said.  “We care about Peter.”

“Then where were you two weeks ago when he—” she jabbed a thumb at Tony, “was breaking his heart.”

Steve grimaced. “We all messed up, but it was out of concern for Peter—of love.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't speak.

“With what happened at the school, we realized Peter was in danger,” Steve went on. “We thought the only way to keep him safe was to remove Spider-Man from the equation. We had no idea what would happen tonight.”

He didn’t even flinch at the lie; it was perfectly delivered. Tony could tell May was believing him, and he was relieved. He couldn’t bear for her to take Peter out of his life.

Tony cleared his throat. “We were wrong. We will be at his side from here on out whenever he needs or wants us. I will help him develop as Spider-Man, and Steve and others will teach him to protect himself from the threats he faces. We—The Avengers—want to help Peter.”

May narrowed her eyes. “Do you want to make him one of you?”

Tony considered his answer carefully. He hadn't decided that yet, but he thought now was the time. "I'd like to make the offer," he said. "If I have your support, of course. I think Peter can be an asset to us, and he'll have more protection if he's working with us as a team."

May’s mouth pressed into a thin line, her eyes contemplative. “I think…” she said haltingly, “you should ask, but not now; he needs time. When he's ready, though, I think he needs to be given the choice, to see you value him as a hero like you.”

Tony stared into her eyes, wishing he could tell her that he knew exactly what she meant, what she felt, as he felt the exact same way. Peter was his son now, in 2016, and in the future, though only then did he know it. Now, he was still just Tony’s intern, and even that had been taken away.

But he would fix it. From now on, he was going to be there for Peter every step of the way—never holding himself at a distance for the sake of the future.

The man that had taken Peter into his room came back and said, “He’s waking up.”

Tony fixed a pleading look on May and said, “Can I talk to him?”

She stared for a moment then said, “No. Not yet. I want to see him first. He needs comfort right now, not stress. When I think he’s ready, you can talk to him.”

Without another word, she spun on her heel and marched away to Peter’s room, leaving Tony staring after her and wishing he could follow.

Soon, though. When she thought Peter was ready, he would be able to go to his son and make things right.

Chapter Text

September 29th

Peter was sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard, with his legs stretched out in front of him. His ribs were still aching, but the wounds on his stomach and chest were healing fast, only raw lines now.

He was lost in his thoughts and started when May knocked on the door and peered in. “You’ve got a visitor,” she said.

Peter’s heart skipped in his chest. “Who is it?” He was worried Tony had tracked him down to talk, to discuss what Peter had done, the latest disaster.

Peter had avoided Tony at the tower. As soon as he’d woken in the early hours, with May sitting at his side, holding his hand, he’d asked her if they could go home. She’d said Tony wanted to talk to him and had asked to be called as soon as he woke up, but his horrified reaction had not needed further words for her to check with the doctor if he could leave. As soon as they’d been given the go-ahead, she’d bundled him in a blanket and led him down in the elevator, outside, where she’d hailed a cab for them.

He knew he was being a coward, that he should have stayed and faced Tony, but he didn’t want to—he didn’t feel ready. May had assured him no one had been hurt apart from Mr. Toomes and that all the plane’s cargo had been retrieved, so he thought he could wait before facing Tony again. 

When they did talk, when Tony had been reassured Peter wasn’t seriously hurt, Tony would vent his anger, and Peter didn’t want to face it.

He didn’t want to face him ever again.

He’d messed up, he knew. He’d crashed Tony’s plane and could have killed people, but he’d been trying to help—again. He thought he actually had helped this time. He’d stopped all those weapons being made with stolen tech.

But he was sure Tony wasn’t going to see it that way.

Pulling himself from his troubled thoughts with May coming to squeeze his hand, he looked up and awaited her answer.

“It’s Ned.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, I want to see him.”

She bent over and kissed his cheek, her hand lingering in his, and then she’d slipped out of the room. A moment later, Ned rushed through the door, spread his arms wide, and said, “Dude!”

Peter smiled in spite of himself. “Hey, Ned.”

“What the hell happened? Did you know I got a call from that Happy guy last night? He told me that you were going to be okay and that he was sorry for hanging up on me. He sounded pretty torn up about it.”

Peter blinked, surprised. “He was?”

Ned nodded eagerly, crossing the room and dropping down onto the end of the bed. Peter was jostled, and he winced as his ribs stabbed with pain.

Ned missed it, though, rushing on, “What even happened? I saw on the news that a Stark Industries plane was hijacked, which, yeah, I knew, but I didn’t know it crashed on Coney Island!”

“Are they saying anything about me? I mean Spider-Man. Do they know I did it?”

“No, Pepper Potts gave a statement and just said it was saved by an Avengers’ associate. Wait— Did you say you did it? You crashed a plane? Dude!”

Peter ducked his head. "Yeah, I did. It was my fault. The Vulture got on the plane, and he had rerouted it. All I could do was bring it down. It crashed on Coney Island, and no one was hurt apart from us, but yeah… it could have been really bad.”

Ned gaped. “You were hurt?”

Peter pulled up his t-shirt and showed him the almost-healed wounds and deep purple bruising.

“Whoa,” Ned said. “They’re real superhero injuries from a supervillain. So cool.”

Peter quirked an eyebrow. “They don’t feel cool.”

“No, I guess not. But, dude, that was like real superhero stuff.”

Peter shook his head jerkily. “No! Superheroes don’t risk people’s lives.”

Ned snorted. “Peter, you need to start paying attention. Yeah, it’s not their fault, but The Avengers get people hurt all the time. Like Wanda Maximoff in Lagos and Ultron. People are always being hurt!”

“It’s different,” Peter said quietly.

“How?”

Peter shook his head again. “It just is.”

Ned groaned. “Peter, you’re thinking about this all wrong. You saved loads of lives last night. Think about all the weapons they could have made with that stuff. You’re a superhero!”

“I’m not,” Peter said quietly. “I don’t even have a suit anymore. They destroyed my old one last night in the med bay, and Mr. Stark isn’t going to give the one he made back.”

Ned waved a hand. “Then we’ll make you a new one. I’ll help. We can make it all kinds of awesome. Sure, we can’t make a genius AI for you, but we can do some cool stuff.”

Peter smiled slightly. “Yeah, we could, but I don’t know if I should be Spider-Man anymore. I’m dangerous.”

Ned gripped Peter’s shoulders and shook him. This time, Peter couldn’t hide the groan, and Ned held up his hands and said, “Whoa! I’m sorry. Dude, I didn’t mean— Are you okay? Do you need some Tylenol?”

“Tylenol doesn’t work on me,” Peter said. “My metabolism wipes it out too fast. But I’m okay; just a little sore.”

“What exactly happened?”

"Liz's dad, The Vulture, had that wingsuit, and it had claws. He picked me up and dropped me a few times. It hurt, but I'm basically fine."

Ned’s eyes were wide as he said, “You know what that was? That was your first supervillain! This is so cool. You’ve got your origin story done, and now you’ve beaten an archenemy. You’re like Captain America facing Red Skull.”

Peter smiled in the face of Ned’s enthusiasm, though he didn’t agree with what he was saying. Peter thought what he’d done was the opposite of what Captain America would do. Still, he knew there was no point arguing with Ned when he was like this.

“Have you heard anything about Liz?” he asked.

"Not from her. It's all over Facebook, though—what her father did. He's being questioned by the police, but he's totally going to jail. You did that, Peter!"

"To Liz," Peter said quietly. "God, she's going to be so upset. She loved him so much, Ned; I saw it when I was at her place. She's going to be wrecked."

“Yeah, but that’s not on you; it’s on him. He’s the one that chose the supervillain life.”

Peter looked out of the window for a moment, mind fixed on Liz and what she was going to go through, and then his attention jumped back to the room as his phone rang. He picked it up from the bedside table and then dropped it again when he saw the caller-ID.

“What’s wrong? Who is it?” Ned asked.

“Mr. Stark. I can’t answer.”

“You have to!” Ned said.  “It’s Tony Stark!”

“Yeah, I know,” Peter said, stuffing the phone under his pillow to muffle the ringing. “I know I’ve got to face him eventually, and I will, but not yet. I can’t deal with him raging at me.”

Ned frowned. “Dude, he’s not going to be angry. You saved his plane.”

“I crashed his plane,” Peter corrected. “And I did it as Spider-Man, which he wanted me to give up. He’s going to be mad, and I don’t want to deal with it yet. He’ll have to wait.”

Ned gaped. “You’re ghosting Tony Stark!”

Peter groaned and hid his face in his hands. “Yeah, I know, but I can’t handle it right now.”

Ned frowned at him. “Okay, I know what you need.”

“Yeah,” Peter said dully. “What’s that?”

“Star Wars and popcorn. I’ll see if May’s got popcorn, and you can get the DVDs.”

“I don’t really feel like a movie right now,” Peter said.

“But you need a movie,” Ned said firmly. “I know what’s good for you, Peter, and it’s not sitting here and dwelling on what happened and what Tony Stark is going to say to you.” He got to his feet and nodded. “You need a distraction, and as your Guy in the Chair, I’m going to give it to you.”

He ambled out of the room, and Peter heard him talking to May.

With a groan, Peter swung his legs off the bed, stood, and made for the door. He left his phone behind so he could pretend not to hear it if it rang again. He would face Tony when he had to, but not yet.

He was going to be a coward a little longer. 

xXx

Steve was patient, knowing Peter needed time, but after the third week of Tony’s calls being ignored, his texts going unanswered, and his obvious torment came around, Steve knew he had to step in.

He didn’t know why Peter was ghosting him, but Tony was determined not to push him, instead, tying himself in knots while he waited for contact. He’d spoken to May after he’d found she’d taken Peter out of the med-bay, and she’d said he wasn’t ready to talk yet. She’d not said Tony couldn’t call, though, so he’d been limiting himself to twice daily calls and texts each morning and afternoon, before and after school on weekdays and noon and dinner on weekends.

It was hurting Tony, though, more than he was even letting them see, Steve knew, so he had to do something. He rode his motorcycle to Queens and parked himself outside Peter’s apartment to wait for him to get home from school. He’d knocked first, to see if May was home, but there had been no answer. He’d sat down on the floor and scrolled on his phone until he heard footsteps coming up the stairs towards him.

Peter rounded the corner and stopped dead, his mouth dropping open.

“Hey, Queens,” Steve said, getting to his feet. “Good to see you.”

Peter nodded. “Uh… yeah… you too.”

“Can we go for a walk?”

Peter grimaced. “Walking around Queens with Captain America isn’t really a great idea. I mean, no one would guess I was Spider-Man, but if someone saw me and it got back to school— Flash would think I hired a lookalike for attention, and he already gives me a hard time.”

Steve knew about Flash, Peter’s school bully. Peter had told him some, but Tony had told him more. Tony had met him at Peter’s school science fair, and he said it was a near-miss between talking to him and shoving him aside to get away from the little asshole.

He’d made the right choice as far as his reputation went, but Steve understood the desire as he’d have felt the same.

“Then can we talk here?” he asked.

Peter nodded, skirted around him, and unlocked the door. He gestured Steve in first, and he entered a small but fairly neat apartment. It was homey, with framed pictures of Peter at various ages with his aunt and a man he recognized from the BARF simulation as Peter's Uncle Ben.

He followed Peter into the kitchen and saw report cards—with excellent grades—pinned to the refrigerator. It was a family home, and it reminded Steve of his own, where his mom would pin-up his sketches.

“Uh… do you want a coffee or a soda?” Peter asked.

“A soda would be great.”

Peter took two Cokes from the refrigerator and handed one to Steve, then said, "Shall we sit down?"

“That’d be nice,” Steve said, sensing Peter’s unease and trying to make him more comfortable.

Peter pulled out a seat at the table and sat down, his hands clasped around his can without opening it. Steve popped the top of his own and took a swig.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

Peter shrugged. “Fine. I don’t even have scars anymore.”

"That's great, but it's not what I meant. We're worried about you, Queens. We've not heard anything from you since you took off out of the med-bay in the middle of the night. You’re not answering Tony’s calls.”

Peter flinched. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I just…”

“You just what?”

Peter ducked his head. “I’m not ready to talk to him yet.”

Steve sighed. “I get that, but he’d really like to talk to you. He feels bad about what happened.”

“So do I!” Peter said, head snapping up. “Really. I didn’t know what else to do. I had to stop The Vulture. I know I crashed the plane, and that was so wrong, but I…”

“No,” Steve said softly. “Tony isn’t angry. He’s worried about you. When he saw you on the beach, hurt like that, he was terrified. The only reason he wasn’t at your bedside when you woke up is because your aunt warned him away.”

Peter frowned. “But I was Spider-Man again, and he didn’t want me to be.”

“He was wrong,” Steve said, framing the words carefully. Tony did want Peter to be Spider-Man, he was proud of what his son achieved in the suit, but he had been forced into a position to stop him for his own good. “Tony cares about you a lot. He’s really been torn up these past few weeks without being able to talk to you. He feels horrible about what happened.”

Peter looked bewildered. “I don’t understand. I messed up.”

Steve smiled. “That means you’re one of us. We all mess up. Believe me, I’ve made mistakes.”

Though it had not happened this time, Steve had once hidden the truth of Howard’s death from Tony; he fought him in Siberia and crushed his suit with his shield.

“I could have killed someone,” Peter said quietly.

“You could, but you didn’t. After what happened at the school, Tony was forced into a position in which he had to take the suit back. He was a wreck after, believe me, and  he’s not been right since, especially with you hiding from him.” He frowned. “Why are you hiding from him?”

Peter swallowed hard and fixed his eyes on the tabletop. “Because I’m a coward. I don’t want him to be angry with me again. Before— I know I deserved it, I gave him no choice, but it was so awful.” His voice became harsh. “I really am a coward.”

“No, you’re not!” Steve said forcefully. “You’re braver than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Peter looked up, eyebrows high. “I’m really not.”

Steve bit down on his tongue. Peter was braver than anyone he’d ever known, but that was the Peter of 2023. This version of him was brave, and he had that future ahead of him, the strength to put on the gauntlet and snap, but that was not who he was yet.

“I think you’re brave,” he said sincerely. “And I think you’re brave enough to talk to Tony. He’s not angry at you, I promise; he’s just worried. And I think you need to talk to him, too, for your own sake. It’s hurting you both to be apart like this.” He fixed Peter with a look that he tried to impart true meaning into. “He really cares about you, Queens.”

Peter shook his head, dismissing the words, and said, “How’s Sergeant Barnes?”

Steve was troubled by the obvious avoidance, but he thought he could come back to the topic. “He’s okay. He’s stuck in hiding right now, which is hard on him, but Bucky’s strong.”

Peter frowned. “Why is he in hiding? I mean, obviously, he’s got everyone looking for him, but why don’t you do something about it? What he did wasn’t his fault, right?”

“True, but we have no proof.”

Peter’s eyes bugged. “But you do! Don’t you know? You have to know! It’s all in those files Black Widow posted online. You have to dig for it, but I did after the whole thing with him that time. They talk about his programming and his missions. It’s all there, Steve!”

Steve jumped to his feet, heart pounding in his chest, and lifted Peter out of his chair. “Are you sure?” he asked, gripping his shoulders. “Absolutely sure?”

“Yes. I saw it. I can show you.”

Steve raked a hand through his hair. “Yes! Please! Please, show me.”

Smiling for the first time since Steve arrived, Peter ran out of the room and came back a moment later with a battered laptop that looked like it'd been put together from scraps. He set it on the table and opened it. A home screen met their eyes, and Peter’s fingers flew over the keys.

Steve stared in awe as Peter pulled up file after file, shots of Bucky in various states, some under the programming, others with a fire in his eyes, which meant he was himself.

Steve’s breaths came fast as he absorbed it all, hope blossoming in his chest.

Peter might just have given Bucky a chance of freedom.  

Chapter Text

Bucky was in the common room with Tony and Pepper. The others had drifted off to do their own thing, and Steve was in the city. Bucky didn't know what he was doing there, he’d been secretive about it, but he was looking forward to him getting back so that he had someone to talk to.

Tony and Pepper were locked in their own bubble, Tony staring into space and Pepper trying to comfort him. Bucky felt awkward being there, but at the same time, he felt he should be.

Tony was really struggling. He'd not seen Peter for three weeks, and Peter wasn't answering his calls or texts. He was desperate to just go to him, but he was wary of Peter's aunt, who had been in contact. She knew he was trying to reach Peter, and she said he wasn't ready. She agreed calls were okay, but she’d told him not to come in person and railroad Peter into contact.

Bucky was frustrated, too, as he knew Peter had to be suffering without Tony after what happened. Worse, Mind hadn’t made an appearance since the plane crash, so they had no insight into Peter then or now.

All in all, it was a tough few weeks for all of them, Tony most of all.

Bucky got to his feet and made for the kitchen to get himself a fresh coffee when he heard distant fast footsteps. He stiffened and then relaxed as Steve ran into the room, his eyes wild and roving. They settled on Bucky, and he gasped, "Queens! Proof!"

Tony’s head snapped up. “What about Peter?”

Steve held up a hand, drawing deep breaths. “I saw Queens. I went to his place to talk to him.”

Tony was on his feet and crossing the room in an instant, Pepper hurrying behind him and placing her hand in his. “How is he?” she asked.

Steve shook his head and said, "He's… Well, he's not okay, but that's not the point."

“Not the point!” Tony growled.

“We’ll get to that in a minute, Tony,” Steve said. “Bucky, Peter found proof you’re innocent!”

Bucky took an automatic step back, hand coming to his chest. He was without words, and it seemed Tony was, too, but Pepper said, “What proof?”

Steve’s eyes darted between her and Bucky as he answered. “When Natasha did the data dump of all the SHIELD files, to show the Hydra’s infiltration, there were details of Bucky’s time as The Winter Soldier. Peter just showed me. Buck, I think it’s enough to clear your name.”

Bucky's mouth dropped open, and then he huffed a laugh. Of course, if any of them were going to find a way for him to be free, it would be Peter. Even though they had no bond yet, he was coming through for Bucky again.

“Damn, bud,” he muttered.

“How did we not know about this?” Pepper asked.

“I never looked,” Tony said quietly, his eyes distant. “I had Jarvis find and wipe any mentions of me, but I didn’t look deeper.”

“Well, it’s there,” Steve said eagerly. “We can find it all, every detail, and work out a way to take it to the authorities without telling them where you are. I think you should go to Wakanda. I’m sure T’Challa would give you sanctuary.”

For a moment, Bucky felt a swell of hope, the thought that he could be free now instead of waiting years for his pardon, but that hope quickly burst like a soap bubble.

“I can’t,” he said, voice dull. “I’ve got to keep my cover for Zemo.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Buck, this is about your freedom!”

“And the connection with Zemo is about protecting Peter,” Bucky said. “I’m not giving that up so I can clear my name.” He crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw. “No.”

Steve ran a rough hand through his hair. “Okay. Yeah. We do need Zemo… We can make it work, though. There has to be a way. Let me think…”

“How’s Peter?” Tony asked.

Steve frowned at him, an angry retort obviously about to come, and then he took in Tony’s eyes, pleading with him, and said, “He’s okay. Completely healed, but not himself. He’s still really upset about what happened. He thinks you’re angry with him. I told him you’re not, that you’re just worried; I tried to make him understand, but…” He shrugged. “I don’t think he took it in. He changed the subject. That’s how I found out about the proof.” He looked to Bucky. “He was asking how you’re doing.”

Bucky felt a wave of fondness at the thought that Peter, who didn’t know or love him yet, was concerned for him. It was like a warm touch through the years that parted him from the Peter he knew best.  

“I’ve got to see him,” Tony said. “If he thinks I’m angry, he’s probably screwing himself up. The hell with May—I’m going there.”

Pepper squeezed his hand. "You can't go against her wishes if you want her to let you see him in the future, Tony. Talk to her, tell her what Steve said. I'm sure she'll agree that you should see him."

Tony nodded slowly, a line between his eyebrows.

Steve turned back to Bucky. "You've got to do this, Buck. We can make it work with Zemo. Just because we're clearing your name, it doesn't mean you can't still be his contact. He'd believe we wanted your name cleared. This might even help—it shows we still have no idea you're working with him."

Bucky considered. He did want his name cleared, but he wanted to help Peter even more.

“We can ask T’Challa,” Steve went on, seeming reassured by the fact Bucky wasn’t arguing. “With his support behind you…”

Bucky held up a hand. “It’s too big a risk, Steve. The connection with Zemo has to come first.”

“But you can do both!” Steve said, a hint of anger in his voice now.

“You can,” Pepper agreed.

There was movement behind them, and Vision drifted through the wall. Bucky barely glanced at him, Steve’s voice already calling his attention back to the room as he said, “Look, Buck, we’re doing this one way or another,” but Tony cut across him.

“Mind? Finally! Where the hell have you been?”

Bucky turned and saw the change in the eyes, which meant Mind was the one in control. He felt a pang of sympathy for Vision, who was so often having his awareness canceled out and being sent to see Peter and the Stones. The pang was quickly replaced with eagerness for news of Peter, though.

“I didn’t come because Peter did not send me,” he said. “He has been… struggling.”

“Because of what happened?” Tony asked, worry lines cutting around his eyes.

Mind nodded. “Peter does not just see what happens; he also feels it. He was suffering with the remembered guilt and how he is feeling now. As Peter is depressed here now, in 2016, he is too depressed in 2023.”

“Peter’s depressed!” Tony said, voice cracking.

“Yes,” Mind said. “But he has felt some reprieve from his conversation with Mr. Rogers and gathered enough focus to send me to see you.” He looked to Bucky. “He wants this for you. He wants you to clear your name.”

Steve smiled smugly. “Knew he would.”

“But this risks my contact with Zemo,” Bucky said. “Peter can’t want that.”

“He disagrees,” Mind said. “Peter believes it will reinforce the idea that you are still undercover and serving his plan. It is natural the Avengers want you to be a free man, and Zemo knows of the evidence as he used some of it against you in Siberia.”

“The video of my parents,” Tony said quietly.

"Exactly. Peter says it's your choice; he can't force you in either direction. But what he wants is for you to use the information he just imparted to you to clear your name."

“And if I’m found guilty and locked up?” Bucky asked. “What then?”

Mind’s eyes were grave as he answered. “Captain Rogers breached the Raft to rescue his friends once before. He can do it again.”

Bucky grunted a laugh. “Not while remaining a free man. Look, I get Peter wants this, and I see why you all would, but we have to keep the connection with Zemo. Tell Peter I’m sorry but, this time, I can’t do what he wants me to do.”

Tony cleared his throat. “We’re doing it.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “I just said—"

“I heard you, but we’re doing it, whether you want it or not. Peter is the one calling the shots on this whole plan, and he wants this. We can keep your connection with Zemo and make this happen. We'll send people to Wakanda with you to maintain the cover that you're in the know."

“Yeah, I’ll come,” Steve said.

“No,” Bucky said roughly. “Peter needs you more than I do. We’re not doing this!”

“Yes, we are,” Tony said implacably. “It’s what Peter wants, and he’s the one that is in control of this path we’re on. We’re doing all this for him.”

Bucky glared at him. “That’s not fair. You know he won’t be thinking of the overall plan now. He wants what’s right for me.” He looked to Mind. “Thank him for me. Tell him that I understand that he wants this for me, but it’s too big a risk.”

Mind sighed. “Would you like to hear him tell you himself? I can pass the message back for him to come to you through the altered mindset of BARF.”

Bucky was tempted, he wanted to speak to Peter more than almost anything, but he wanted the plan to work more. If he spoke to Peter, he wouldn’t be able to deny him what he wanted. This time, he was going to do what he knew was right, even if that meant he had to deny himself time with Peter.

“Bucky…” Tony growled.

“No.” He held up his hands and shook his head. “We’re not doing it. And if you try doing it without me, I will leave. You know you can’t lock me in here if I don’t want to be here. I will leave.”

Steve smirked. “Which will screw up your connection with Zemo even more than you going to Wakanda.”

Bucky cursed.

“Why not stay here and do it anyway?” Mind asked. “Yes, being in Wakanda would give you greater protection, but the authorities don't need to know you're not there. If T'Challa was prepared to say you're under his protection, then no one needs to know you're not there."

Bucky shook his head, frustration welling in him. “This is a bad idea.”

“Maybe,” Steve said, tone cheerful. “But we’re doing it. Besides, we’re getting nothing from Zemo yet. He’s called ten times; he's asked you a lot of questions and told you nothing of what he's doing or who he's serving. That plan might be a dead-end anyway. And…" he said expansively, "if your name is cleared, you'll be free to act when this threat, whatever it is, comes for Peter."

Bucky closed his eyes and took a breath. He was sure this was the wrong thing to do, but he didn’t feel he had any more cards to play to stop it.

It was true they had nothing from Zemo—not even a location as his calls were all traced around the world to Tony’s call. Happy had found no one that appeared to be a part of Nemesis’ plan, and Tony assured them he would find them if they were there, and Friday found no suspicious activity on any employee account.

“Fine,” Bucky snapped, throwing up his hands. “Tell Peter I’m doing it.”

Steve beamed, and Mind nodded. Tony seemed distracted again, eyes distant, and Pepper was watching him carefully.

“Peter will be pleased,” Mind said.

“Yeah, I bet,” Bucky grumbled. “But tell him I’m not pleased, and I’m only doing this because of him.”

Mind’s lips twitched in a smile. “I don’t need to tell him that. He already knows.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I bet he does.” He pushed his hair back from his face. “Okay, we’ll do it. I want to be able to help him when the time comes, but if this goes to hell and screws things up with Zemo, I’m going to…”

“To what?” Steve asked curiously.

Bucky spoke in a growl. "If this screws things up, I'm going to kill Zemo. If he's not an asset to us protecting Peter, he's a threat, and I won’t let that stand.”

Mind surveyed him for a moment, something knowing in his eyes. Perhaps he thought Bucky wouldn’t do it. If that was what he thought, he was wrong.

As committed as Bucky was to doing the right thing, to what Peter would want him to do, which was protecting life, Zemo posed a threat to Peter, and Bucky would not let that stand. If protecting Peter meant ending Zemo’s life, he would do it and face Peter after with a clear conscience.

As much as Peter’s opinion mattered to him, as much as he wanted Peter to be proud of him and what he’d done in these years he had, his life mattered more.

For Peter, in spite of Peter, Bucky would kill again.

Chapter Text

Peter listened to Ned's rambling as they left their lockers and headed towards the exit, glad that another day of school was done. “And Mom is complaining about the dust, which, yeah, kinda expected it, but I think I’ve got her to come round to the idea of the Millennium Falcon fund.”

Peter chuckled. “If you’d started doing the dusting yourself, she wouldn’t complain.”

"Yeah, but you know I have allergies. A hint of dust and I start choking. I'm pretty sure my throat would swell shut."

Peter elbowed him. “That doesn’t work on your mom, and it’s not going to work on me.”

Ned grinned. “Yeah. Okay. But it was worth a try. What shall we do this evening? Have you changed your mind about us making you a new suit yet? Because I’ve got ideas and maybe some sketches already.”

Peter sighed. “No, I don’t think so.”

Though he felt guilty about the people he was abandoning by not patrolling, he now had a paranoia of helping that he couldn't seem to shift. If he did something wrong, someone could be hurt or killed. Besides, Tony wanted him to step down, so he was doing the right thing obeying.

Ned pushed open the door, and they exited out into the chill of New York in Mid-October. The days were getting colder all the time, and Peter was going to have to start bundling up even more for warmth. Of all the changes of the spider bite, like his asthma clearing up and not needing glasses anymore, the fact he felt the cold so much more was a problem. Still, he had enough thermal t-shirts, so he could layer up when he went out.

He blinked in the sun and didn’t immediately notice that Ned had stopped walking. When he realized he was alone, he looked back over his shoulder and saw Ned staring forward.

“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?” 

Ned smiled slightly. “I think your ride is here.”

Peter turned back and saw a sleek black Audi parked just outside the gate. He knew the car because he’d ridden it many times before. As he looked, the driver's window rolled down, and Happy leaned across the seats to gesture him forward.

“Damn,” he muttered.

“You’ve got to go, Peter,” Ned said, coming to his side and shoving him in the small of the back. “Happy is scary, and he came all this way. He’ll be pissed otherwise, and I don’t want to see a pissed Happy, which is actually an oxymoron, so, huh, yeah, you’ve got to go.”

Peter knew he was right. He liked Happy and had missed him these past weeks, but he was sure he wasn't getting into the car without ending up at Avengers Tower, which meant finally facing Tony.

He swallowed hard and said, “Yeah, I’ll… uh… call you later.”

“You better,” Ned replied.

With heavy steps, Peter walked to the car and opened the passenger side door. “Hey, Happy,” he said dully.

“Not the front this time, kid,” Happy said. “In the back.”

Frowning, wondering if Happy was angry with him, too, because he’d ridden in the front for a while now, he closed the door and opened the back. He stopped dead when he saw who was sitting in there already and licked his suddenly dry lips.

Tony was against the other window, his glasses on and his face unreadable.

“In you get, kid,” he said.

Forcing down a shiver of nerves, Peter slid in, preparing to face the music at last.

Though Steve had said Tony was worried, not angry, Peter wasn’t sure he believed him. He hadn’t believed him enough to answer the phone when Tony called or to read any of his text messages, which he’d been deleting as soon as they came in to avoid temptation.

“To Queens, Hap,” Tony said.

Relieved the ride would at least be short, Peter snapped on his seatbelt as Happy pulled away from the curb. He took a breath and forced himself to look at Tony.

He couldn’t see his eyes behind his tinted glasses, but his mouth was downturned with what Peter read as disappointment. At least it wasn’t anger. He had to be pissed that Peter had been ghosting him for so long, but he wasn’t showing it.

Tony blew out a heavy breath and took off his glasses. Peter was shocked to see his eyes were sad, and they seemed to be taking him in with intensity.

"I'm sorry," Peter said quietly. "I know I should have waited until you could have spoken to me before leaving the med-bay, and I should definitely have answered the phone. I’m sorry. I just… I was being a coward.”

“You’re a lot of things, Pete, but you’re not a coward. If I was in your position, after what I did, I wouldn’t have waited either—and I’d have been too angry to answer the phone.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open. “Angry? No, I wasn’t angry. I was…” He bit his lip. “I was scared. I know I should have sucked it up and faced you, but I just…”

“Peter, I’m not angry,” Tony said gently. “I wasn’t angry at any point of what happened, not even when I took the suit; at least I wasn’t angry at you. I was angry at the position I was in. I didn’t want to take your suit, believe me, but I really didn’t have a choice.”

“I know,” Peter said quietly. “I messed up. It was totally the right thing to take it.”

Tony stared out of the window a moment, jaw clenched, and then he turned back to Peter and said, “If I could have, I would have been there for you instead of taking the suit and cutting you off. I really didn’t have a choice. It was beyond my control.”

Peter thought that was strange because who could have been in control if not Tony? Maybe he meant the situation was out of his control, which it had been. The only thing to do was shut Peter down.

Wanting to defend himself, needing to, Peter said, “I’ve not patrolled since the Coney Island thing. I know you didn’t want me to. Obviously, I don’t have a suit anymore, but I’ve not made another one.”

“I know,” Tony said. “I’ve been checking. Peter, I don’t want you to give up Spider-Man—that’s the last thing I want. You do good as Spider-Man; you help a lot of people. It’s who you are—who you’re meant to be.”

Peter frowned. “But I hurt people.”

Tony nodded, his lips turning down again. "I know you did. But I also know that everyone injured recovered fully and that a donation means the damaged parts of the school can be rebuilt better than before."

“Was that you?” Peter asked. “The donation, I mean. I heard it was anonymous.”

Tony smiled slightly. “It was an investment in the future of Stark Industries. My intern needs a space to learn which will help him reach his full potential.”

“But…” Peter shook his head. “I’m not your intern anymore.”

Tony cleared his throat. “You’re not, but that’s not my choice either. I needed to think, to get my head around what happened, but I never wanted you to give it up completely. You’re too good to give it up, Peter. It’s not about the money. If you don’t want to work with me anymore, I’ll understand, I’ll have earned it, but the funding is already in place for your education. You’ll never lose that.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open again, and he had to make a conscious effort to snap it closed.

Tony wasn’t reacting how he’d expected at all. Peter had written off the scholarship the same time he’d written off the internship, accepted it as fair punishment. But to think he still had it—that Tony even wanted him as an intern again—seemed too good to be true.

“You actually want me still?” he asked.

Tony smiled at last, and it softened the sadness in his eyes. “Of course I do. Look, we both made mistakes. You messed up at the school, and people were hurt, but you also saved thousands of lives when you shut down Toomes’ weapons operation. I messed up when I cut you off, but…” He grimaced. “I had to do it.”

Peter shook his head. He knew Tony had done the right thing, for whatever reason he’d done it. This whole conversation was confusing him. Tony seemed genuinely upset, as Steve said he was, but it made no sense.

“Do you want the internship still?” Tony asked tentatively, his eyes concerned.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, absolutely, more than anything. It's not about the scholarship—it’s really not. I was learning so much from you, and I could help Ned’s grandmother, and I felt like I was helping you a little sometimes, too.”

“You were,” Tony said. “More than you know.” He rubbed his chin. “If you want it back, and I want you back, I think it’s decided. Happy will pick you up Saturday morning.”

Peter felt the weight of the past weeks lifting from him, even his breaths seemed easier, and he grinned.  “Yeah, okay. Thank you, Mr. Stark. I won’t mess up again, I promise. I’ll be really careful, and I won’t—”

Tony held up a hand. “Do you want the suit back?”

Peter bit his lip. The truth was he did, he wanted to be helping people again, but he was so scared he’d mess up and hurt someone. He wasn’t sure he was safe to be out there now.

“What are you thinking?” Tony asked.

Peter ran a hand through his unruly hair and said, “Well, it just… I’m kinda scared now. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Tony frowned. “Okay, yeah, I get that. I know you won’t hurt anyone, but we can work on your confidence. Give me time to think about that; I know there's a solution since working things out is what I do. In the meantime, maybe I can patrol with you."

Peter’s mouth dropped open. “Like, as Iron Man? Come on patrols with me in the suit?”

“If you want it, yeah, we can do it together. That way, you've got backup which I know will please your aunt, and you've got me there in case things get out of hand."

Peter stared at him, mouth still hanging open. The idea of patrolling with Iron Man himself was incredible, beyond anything he could have imagined. That was like he really was a superhero.

"I… I think that'd be good," he said. "But are you sure you want to do that? I mean, you've got so many things you have to do, and I don't want to take all your time. What about Miss Potts?"

Tony smiled. "Pepper will understand. She'll probably be glad to have me out from under her feet." His smile faded. "If you're really worried about her, though, we can use Karen to help. I can track your patrols, stay in contact with you, while also spending time with Pepper."

Peter licked his lips. “Yeah, I think that would be good. Better.”

As much as he loved the idea of patrolling with Iron Man, he didn't want to take all Tony's time. He was so busy and already gave Peter enough attention with his internship. And if Tony was watching what he was doing, keeping an eye on him, it would be safer. Maybe he could get his confidence back as Spider-Man, stop needing to be babysat all the time. That would be good, better for Tony and him.

“That’s decided then,” Tony said, glancing out of the window.

Peter hadn’t even realized the car had stopped; he saw now they were parked outside his building.

He felt awkward now. He wanted to thank Tony for what he was giving him, not only the internship and scholarship but the support to be Spider-Man again. He didn’t know the words to express his gratitude, though, and stammered. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. Really. This is… I mean…”

“It’s as much for me as it is for you, Pete,” Tony said sincerely. “You probably don’t understand that now, but I know you will one day.”

The way he said it, cryptically and seeming to hold some deeper meaning, made something in Peter’s chest constrict. He had a feeling he was missing something important.

“Okay, I… uh… should go,” he said. “You’ve probably got loads to do.”

“I have,” Tony said. “Thanks to you, we’ve got a mission going on right now. I’ll tell you about it soon.”

Peter opened the door, but before he could get out, Happy lowered the divider and turned in his seat to look back. “Good to have you back, kid,” he said. “I’ll see you Saturday. I’ll come early so we can stop for breakfast on the way, okay?”

The way he said it, his tone, made Peter feel like he couldn’t refuse. Not that he wanted to. He’d missed Happy, too.

“That’d be great,” he said. “Thanks, Happy.”

“Check the trunk on your way,” Tony said.

Frowning, Peter waved a hand and climbed out, closing the door behind him. He went to the trunk, which had popped open and was rising smoothly, and saw the silver case in which Tony had given him his suit. Peter grinned and took it out, the weight feeling good in his hand, like it belonged.

He closed the trunk and walked to the door, turning back, and waving to Tony and Happy, who had rolled their windows down, then let himself in the door and took the stairs two at a time, a spring in his step.

He felt better than he had for weeks, like things were back to the good time they’d been before he found that weapon, and he was plotting to go out to patrol that evening after dinner if Tony was free to help.

He was going to have to call Ned first, as he was probably losing his mind with curiosity about what had happened.

He let himself in the front door and carried the case into the living room. May appeared at the kitchen door, her face smudged with flour and her apron spattered with what looked like cake batter.

She looked from him, his smile wide, to the case in his hand and said, "About time too. I'm making lemon loaf cake, and then I was thinking I'd make chili for dinner. Sound good?"

As much as he loved May, Peter didn’t want what had become a perfect day to be ruined with her mouth scorching chili—she measured nothing, including chili powder. “You know what, I’ll make dinner tonight while you relax.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to cook?”

“I am,” Peter said. “I can do a couple things. Mr. Stark taught me.”

She looked surprised but pleased. “Then that’d be great. I think I’ll soak in a bubble bath while you cook.”

Peter nodded eagerly. “Yeah, you deserve to relax.”

She smiled. “Then you’re going out, right?” she said, giving the case in his hand a pointed look.

"Yeah, me and Mr. Stark have worked something out. I'll be able to patrol, and he'll keep an eye on things."

“That sounds perfect, honey.” She kissed his cheek and strolled out of the room and into the bathroom.

Peter smiled widely as he heard the tap turn on, and he set the case down on the floor. He was looking forward to making dinner for May and was eager to get out there again after, talking to Karen and doing his bit to keep Queens safe.

He was looking forward to being Spider-Man again.

Chapter Text

Tony was in the lab, his attention half on the schematics he was working through and the other half on the view from Peter’s mask as he swung around Queens.

It was his fourth week patrolling with Peter, and he thought Peter would soon be able to do it alone. His nerves on the first night, which had been extreme, had settled over time, and tonight he’d not felt he needed to check before any move at all.

In fact, he seemed more confident that Tony had seen him since he was visiting while exploring with the Stones in 2023. There was a certain brightness to him; the way he spoke was different, with less hesitation and protracted pauses. It was only when he was patrolling that he was like that; he was still nervy and cautious when he was in the lab with Tony. But Tony was enjoying seeing the change in his as Spider-Man and eagerly awaiting the time that spread into Peter Parker, too.

On the screen, the image spun as Peter flipped mid-swing, and Tony’s stomach rolled.

“You know, you’re going to make me sick if you keep doing that, kid,” he said.

“Oh. Sorry, Mr. Stark. I forgot you were watching.”

“No problem. But if you could keep the horizon in the right place, that’d be great. I had a real nice dinner, but I don’t want to see it again.”

Peter laughed. “Yeah, totally. But, you know, there’s no horizon in Queens until you reach the rooftops. Which we can. Yeah, let’s do that.”

Brown bricks sped past Tony’s view as Peter climbed the side of a building, and then he reached heights that made Tony’s hands clench—what if he fell?—and relax as Peter reached the rooftop and took in the view.

It was dark out, and Peter was looking over at Manhattan and the bay. The lights of the buildings twinkled, and he could see the roof of his own tower in the distance. It was a strange feeling, knowing he could go onto the roof to wave back to Peter and probably be seen.

Peter’s senses were out of this world, keener even than Steve or Bucky’s. He once told Tony they were dialed up to eleven, and Tony wondered how hard it had been for him in the early days before he grew accustomed to the additional stimulation. It had to be hard for him.

He wished he could have been there. If only Nemesis had struck sooner, then Peter could have sent them to a time in which they could have done more. If Tony was in Peter’s life before the spider-bite, he could have mentored him through the process and supported him. As it was, Peter went through it all alone, without anyone knowing what had happened or what he could do.

Tony also wished he could have supported Peter through the loss of his uncle. He was sure it was not a death they could have averted as it was that loss that had girded Peter into becoming Spider-Man, but he could have been there for him. Tony knew Peter and May had relied on each other to survive that loss, but they’d both been grieving and probably didn’t want to lean on the other that much.

 “Anything coming across the scanner, Karen?” Peter asked.

“No,” she replied. “And I feel I need to remind you that your curfew begins in fifteen minutes.”

The view bobbed as Peter nodded. “Yeah, I better get home.”

The curfew was new, instigated by May after Peter had resumed his Spider-Man activities. Tony had gone to the apartment to speak to both her and Peter about what would happen next. He'd committed to being there for Peter in the future, something he had already promised himself he would be, with Peter's agreement through Mind. Nothing was going to stop him from being there for his son ever again. The hardest part was over between them. From here on out, Tony could do and be whatever Peter needed.

Peter jumped from the building, making Tony’s stomach flip, and shot out a web at the opposite wall. He glided across the street, building a smooth rhythm that eventually led him to the fire escape behind his apartment, which would lead him through his bedroom window.

“Okay, Mr. Stark, I’m home,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will. I’m guessing Happy is taking you out for breakfast again, so I’ll eat before you arrive and fix our lunch later.”

 “Yeah, he said something about pancakes. I’ll make sure I’m still hungry for lunch, though.”

Tony shook his head, smiling fondly. "Kid, I could feed you a five-course brunch, and you'd still have room for lunch."

Peter laughed. “Yeah, true. Okay, goodnight.”

“Night, Pete,” Tony said.

The view cut off, and Tony turned back to the schematics he was working with. He was working on the BARF simulation, trying to create a link between two pairs so more than one person could share the illusion. It was Bucky that gave him the idea, saying he missed his runs with Peter and Steve in the mornings. Obviously, Peter couldn’t run with them outside, no matter what tech Tony created, but if he could nail down the math, he could find a way for Steve and Bucky to spend time with Peter together.

And then he could also share the experience.

He tapped the screen, then turned as the door beeped and opened, and Pepper came in. She was obviously just home from work, as her hair was pinned back, and she was wearing a neat pantsuit instead of the comfortable jeans and t-shirts she favored when she was home.

“Hi, honey,” Tony said in imitation of a fifties housewife. “How was your day.”

She laughed and came to his side, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head on his shoulder. “It was long. The Japanese offices have an issue which I might need to fly out to deal with.”

“Can I help?” he asked.

She frowned. “You mean come to Japan with me?”

“Why not?” he asked. “We could make a real vacation out of it.”

“Well, why not is that you’d be away from Peter and the epicenter of everything that's going on here. You're going public with Bucky in two weeks, you're still patrolling with Peter, and Mind could show up at any moment."

Tony felt a sinking in his gut as he realized what she was saying. In 2023, his time and energy had not always been fairly divided. At times, Peter had needed him more, and he’d poured everything he could into him. When he’d taken time away from that, he’d devoted as much as he could to Morgan, not wanting her brother’s needs to leave her neglected. He’d been with Pepper, too, but not nearly enough.

And he was doing it again now.

Tony turned and kissed her. She laughed against his lips and deepened the kiss. Tony dropped the glasses he was examining carelessly onto the counter and turned his body towards her, his hands coming to her hair and the small of her back.

After a long and blissful moment, she pulled back and said, “That was unexpected.”

“I just had a revelation,” Tony said.

“You did?”

“Yeah, I’ve been kinda an asshole lately. I’ve been so consumed with Peter and Bucky, Zemo and Nemesis, that I’ve not been giving you the time and love you deserve.”

She smiled. “Tony, you’ve given me all the love and time you could. I understand that. Things have been intense for us all, and I’ve not begrudged you doing those things at all. But, yes, I would love it if you could come with me.”

“Then it’s decided,” he said. “I’ll do the lab day with Peter tomorrow, and we’ll fly out when he goes home. And we can skip next week’s sessions, so you and I have two weeks free.”

Pepper kissed him again. “Let’s make it one week and see how it goes. You need to be here for when they go forward with Bucky’s case because he’s going to need your support. And Peter has only just started coming here for his internship again, so you shouldn’t miss two weeks. We’ll fly home next Friday so you’re here Saturday.”

“Are you sure?” Tony asked. “Because Peter will more than understand, and Steve and Nat will be here for Bucky, as well as the others that aren’t doing the time warp with us. They’ll be fine.”

She cupped his cheeks in her hands. “One week, Tony, then I won’t feel guilty about taking you away again in the new year.”

“Perfect,” he said.

He was committed to doing this, making the trips a regular thing for them.  This was the time of their relationship being about only the two of them. In only a couple years—though they seemed like a lifetime away to Tony—Morgan would be born, and their time together would be shared with their daughter.

He would make this trip about just the two of them, let everything else take care of itself, just take the time to love her.

It was what she deserved, and it was what he wanted.

Now, without Morgan, Pepper and Peter were the most important people in his life, and he was going to make sure Pepper knew it.

xXx

Peter waved to Juliet at the desk as he passed through the lobby, swiped his card, and then went to the only elevator which didn't have a queue outside it. It was the only elevator that went up to the penthouse and private labs, so he really didn't have a choice about using it. But he always felt that eyes were following him—people wondering what was so special about a kid that meant he got to use Tony Stark's personal elevator.

Friday greeted him, as always, and Peter said, “Hey, Friday. Where’s Mr. Stark.”

“In his lab,” she replied. “I told him you’ve arrived, and he’s eager to see you.”

Peter felt a little jump in his chest. Since the day Tony ambushed him outside his school, and they'd had that talk, he seemed so much more affectionate and invested. Peter had always felt he was heard when he talked to Tony, but now it seemed more intense, like he was really taking in what he said and enjoying it. It was like there had been a barrier between them before that Peter had been unaware of and was only now noticing because it was gone.

The elevator pinged open, and Peter strode along the hall, scanned his palm, and the glass door clicked open. He was expecting Tony to be alone, but Steve was in there, and they both greeted him with wide smiles.

“Hey, Queens,” Steve said. “How are you doing?”

"Great," Peter said. "I got an A on a Spanish quiz which I thought I'd messed up, which is totally down to Mr. Stark programming Karen with Spanish verbs so she can quiz me."

Tony chuckled. “Yeah, I heard you’d been putting the time in with her.”

Peter nodded eagerly. “I have. How was Japan? Did you see amazing things? I hear they’ve got incredible architecture.”

Tony cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, it was great. We didn’t do much touristy stuff, as Pepper was needed in the office, but we had evenings to ourselves. Had some great sushi.”

Steve grimaced. “Raw fish, no thanks.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You’re such an old man, Cap. There’s nothing wrong with sushi, and I’ve told you before it’s not all raw fish.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know, Mr. Stark. I’ve never had it either, and I don’t feel like I’m missing out.”

Tony threw up his hands. “That’s decided! Sushi for lunch.”

Steve frowned. “What? No! I want one of Queens’ sandwiches.”

Tony waggled a finger at him. “No. Your centenarian ass is trying something new. You, too, Pete. I'm ordering, and I promise you're going to love it."

Peter wasn’t convinced, and Steve didn’t look pleased either, but he didn’t say anything as he’d learned it would do no good. Tony was a force of nature when he got something in his head. 

“Anyway,” Tony said expansively, “we’ve got something special to do today, Pete. You know about the BARF system, right?”

Peter nodded eagerly. “Yeah. I saw a live feed of you demonstrating it at MIT. It’s amazing. Are we working on that?”

"We're testing it," Tony said. "I've created a link—I think—between two sets of the system so more than one person can share the simulation. I thought you and Steve would like to give it a go while I analyze the data. I've not tried it yet, so I've got no idea if it'll work."

“Yeah! Definitely!” Peter said with a swoop in his stomach. He’d been excited by what he’d seen Tony do with the glasses and what he said they were capable of, and the chance to try it himself was exciting.

"Now, Steve will be in control, so he'll pick what you see," Tony said. "Go easy, Steve. I don't want you dumping Peter in the middle of the battle of New York."

Peter took the glasses and examined them. They looked normal enough, not that different to the pairs Tony usually wore, but he knew these were capable of much more. He slipped them on and waited as Steve took his own pair, and then, when gestured to, he followed Steve to a bare wall. Peter watched Tony pull up a hologram and then said, “Okay, Steve, when you’re ready.”

“Okay, Queens, brace yourself,” Steve said. “It’s a bit weird at first.”

Peter stiffened, and then his stomach swooped as the room around him disappeared, and he found himself standing beside a campfire with Steve, which was surrounded by men in army fatigues sitting on logs.

Steve was wearing his old Captain America suit, his shield resting against a tree, and Peter was wearing fatigues, too.

Peter recognized Bucky, though his hair was shorter and both his arms were flesh, and then his mouth dropped open, and he said, "Principal Morita?"

The man in question looked up and frowned. “Uh, Cap, who’s the kid?”

“This is Queens; he’s a friend of mine,” Steve said. “Just go with it.”

The man shrugged. “Okay. You want a drink, kid?” he held out a hipflask.

“I’m not old enough to drink.”

"Neither are half of the kids that were drafted here," a man with a bushy mustache said. "And we always offer them a drink.”

Peter shook his head jerkily. “Uh, no thanks.”

His eyes roved around, taking in the forest around them, which was shadowy outside the range of the firelight, the bedrolls on their packs which were piled together, and then fell on Mr. Morita again, though it couldn’t be Mr. Morita.

“Take a seat, Queens,” Steve said.

Peter obeyed, perching on the same log as Bucky, and glanced sideways at him. He looked quite different to the Bucky Peter had seen before. He wasn’t much younger, which meant his fall and capture weren’t far away, but there were starker differences than the hair. This Bucky had a look of inner calm, which seemed out of place in what Peter realized must be a warzone.

Steve sat on Peter’s other side and said, “Queens, this is Bucky Barnes”—Bucky smiled and nodded a greeting—“Jim Morita”—the man that looked so like Peter’s principal lifted a hand—"James Montgomery Falsworth, Gabe Jones, Jacques Dernier, Happy Sam Sawyer.”

The four men nodded and greeted Peter with each introduction, and Peter just stared at them, taking in what he was seeing. These were the Howling Commandos, the elite unit that helped Steve defeat Red Skull. They were historical icons, heroes, and Peter was sitting around a fire with them. It was so realistic. He could hear the crackle of the flames, feel the heat on his face and the scratch of his rough uniform.

This was one of the coolest things to ever happen to him. Ned would never believe it.

“So, Queens,” Bucky said. “How long have you been here?”

“Uh… not long,” Peter said.

“He’s a new recruit,” Steve said, winking at Peter.

“I should think so,” Jim Morita said, and Peter noticed even his voice was the same as, who he guessed was, his descendant who was principal at Peter’s school. “How old are you, kid?”

“He’s eighteen,” Steve said. “Had his birthday a few months ago. I just thought he’d like to meet you all.”

“Yeah. Absolutely,” Peter said, nodding eagerly. “I mean, you’re famous. I’ve read all about you in hist—” He cut off and corrected himself. “The newspapers.”

Bucky smirked. “Told you we were famous, Monty.”

A man with a neat mustache, which seemed out of place in their situation and the scruff on Bucky’s chin, said, “Yes, you said, and I didn’t believe it,” with a British accent.

Peter grinned and hugged his arms around himself. Yep, coolest thing ever.

“You cold, kid?” Bucky asked. “You’re kinda skinny. You probably haven’t got enough flesh over your bones.”

“I’m fine,” Peter said. “Totally snug.”

The man Steve had said was called Happy Sawyer raised an eyebrow and said, “Snug?”

Peter blushed and mumbled. “It’s something my aunt says.”

“Give him a break, Sawyer,” Steve said. “Queens is okay.”

Peter grinned.

“You eaten, kid?” Bucky asked, his voice unusually solicitous. “We’ve got rations, of course, but Jacques caught a few rabbits earlier, and we’ve got some left.”

“No, I’m fine,” Peter said. “I ate… uh… rations earlier.”

Steve nudged him with his elbow and said, “You sure, Queens; you’re a growing boy?”

Before Peter could answer, the scene around them rippled and disappeared. Through the lens of the glasses, Peter saw the lab reappear, and Tony's voice said, "Sorry to cut in on what looked like a good time, but me and Pete have got more stuff to do than hang out with your war buddies, Cap.”

Peter took off the glasses, an apology on his tongue, but he saw Tony was grinning, and he smiled in return.

“Mr. Stark, that was so cool. It was like I was really there.”

“That’s the point,” Tony said. “And I didn’t see any glitches at all. Did you notice anything?”

Peter shook his head and said, “No, it was perfect.”

"I didn't notice anything," Steve said. "It seemed in sync, and it was fully immersive."

Tony looked pleased, and he and Steve shared a look that seemed laden with meaning. Peter had a feeling he was missing something, a feeling which was enhanced when Tony said, “As soon as we have contact again, we’ll let him know.”

Steve beamed. “Great.”

Peter looked between the two of them, trying to decipher the secret, but he had uncovered nothing before Tony said, “Right, Pete, now you’ve experienced BARF, you can help me create another system so we can make it a three-way connection.”

“Three of them?” Steve asked, eyebrow raised. 

Tony nodded. “You think I’m letting you and Bucky have all the fun? No chance. And I know Rhodey will want a go, too.”

Steve shrugged. “As long as I get first shot with it, I don’t mind how crowded it gets.”

Peter was still puzzled, but he dismissed the question when Tony led him to the bench and pushed him towards a stool.

“Okay, Pete,” he said. “It’s a simple enough framework, but programming the glasses is the challenge. I know you’re not as into programming as other tech, but you need to learn.”

Nodding his agreement, the more he learned, the better, Peter turned his attention to the hologram Tony had pulled up and examined the specs.

He was excited to learn more and looking forward to lunch with Steve, whatever sushi ended up tasting like.

It promised to be a great day. 

Chapter Text

Steve and Tony were dressed in their best suits, shoes polished, and hair groomed, but they both knew looking at their best would not make a difference to their cause.

They had come to the United Nations Headquarters to meet Ellis, who had allowed them a meeting while he was in the city for a G8 summit. They were waiting outside his office, Tony adjusting his glasses and Steve’s leg bouncing.

Though they knew they had a good case and, according to everyone outside their inner circle, Bucky was in Wakanda, protected—which T’Challa had agreed to maintain when asked—there was no knowing how this would go.

A woman in kitten heels opened the door and peered out, “Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers, The President is now ready for you.”

They rose, and Tony took the lead through the door. Steve almost walked into him as Tony came to a dead stop. He peered around him and saw what had caught Tony off-guard, and he automatically moved to Tony’s side.

President Ellis was behind the desk, papers neatly piled, and Thaddeus Ross sat opposite, with chairs either side of him, which Ellis gestured them to take with a mild greeting of, "Gentlemen, come in."

Steve heard Tony's deep breath, and he brushed against his arm as he walked forward and took a seat on Ross' right. After a moment, Tony took his seat on Ross' other side and placed the file he held on the desk.

“This is why we want to see you. Mr. President,” he said, voice stilted.

Ellis took the folder and opened it, Ross’ shrewd eyes watching him.

Ellis turned the pages slowly, eyes widening, and he said, “The Winter Soldier?”

Ross made a small sound, like a laugh, but when Steve looked, his face was a smooth mask.

“We’ve got proof that Bucky Barnes was not guilty of the crimes of the Winter Soldier,” Tony said. “Some of it is there, and the rest is being compiled by our lawyers.”

“You think The Winter Soldier is innocent?” Ross asked with a smirk. “How can a man that ended that many lives be innocent?”

"Because he was not in control of himself when he committed those crimes," Steve said. "We have proof that Hydra had programmed him with trigger words, and he was completely under their control when he acted."

Ross' smirk grew more pronounced.

“Where is he now?” Ellis asked.

“In Wakanda,” Steve said. “King T’Challa has given him sanctuary within their borders while we pursue his freedom.”

Ellis turned another page and read for a moment while Tony and Steve watched, and Ross stroked the sharp crease in his black pants with his palm.

"I can see you have compelling proof," Ellis said eventually. "But you cannot think I am going to give him a presidential pardon. Crimes of this magnitude would divide the nation. Also, the crimes were not just committed within the United States. There is evidence of at least five other countries in these files, and that’s just what we know of.”

“No, we don’t expect a pardon,” Tony said. “We want him to have a fair trial. With your support, we hoped a single trial could be arranged to represent all countries involved with a jury based on citizens of each interested party.”

Ross snorted. "You can't honestly believe we will be able to persuade other sovereign countries to allow us to pass judgment on crimes committed within their borders."

They had expected this, and Steve had the response ready to give, but Tony spoke first, cutting across him.

“We’re not asking you for anything, Ross.”

Ellis' eyebrows rose, and he said, "Mr. Stark, Secretary Ross is here as a government representative—”

“Yes,” Tony said, tone curt. “I’m sorry, Mr. Secretary. I was rude.”

Ross looked into Tony's eyes as he answered, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "I am sure you felt you had good reason, Stark. You can probably imagine my actions with the Accords as crimes against you and the people you hold dear.”

Tony's eyes narrowed and his lips turned down, and Ross flinched as if suddenly pained, making Tony's eyes widen.

Steve was puzzled, as there was something familiar about Ross' tick, and then he realized what it was, and his own mouth dropped open.

He had seen that before, that flinch and distant look in the eyes, in Peter when one of the Stones was talking to him and he wasn’t expecting it—or when Power was having one of his tantrums.

Was it possible that Ross was hearing something now?

Tony’s eyes met Steve, and he nodded, sure they were both wondering the same thing—had they found Nemesis?

“Personally, I don’t see a major barrier between what you want and what’s possible,” Ellis said, apparently oblivious to the silent communication happening in the room or Ross’ distraction. “All nations that we’re aware of its citizens being victims of his crimes are represented here at the summit, so I can talk to them. However, you need to understand that each country may wish to try Sergeant Barnes individually, and I cannot stop them. Also, his trial, if it can be arranged, needs to happen within one of the prosecuting countries. It does not matter what protection Wakanda is offering him now; the trial cannot take place within its borders."

“We expected that,” Tony said, voice vague. “And Bucky understands.”

“We’d be grateful for whatever help you can give us,” Steve added.

Ellis steepled his fingers under his chin. “I must admit, being able to try The Winter Soldier does appeal to me. The debacle with Hydra and SHIELD damaged our reputation on the global stage, and we can be shown to be taking decisive action against Hydra, more so than what you did as a group as Avengers.”

Steve was stung by the reference to what they had done like that, as what they had done was in large part take them down. He wasn’t about to argue that point, though, when Ellis seemed to be on their side.

“We would be grateful for your help,” Tony said again.

Ellis nodded. “Very well then, gentlemen. Ross and I are due in a conference soon. I will contact you when I have more information for you.”

Tony and Steve stood and made for the door, but they stopped and turned back when Ross called their names.

“Yes?” Tony said, his voice strained.

"I just want to commend you on this endeavor," he said. "Protecting the innocent is a cornerstone of American life."

He flinched again, and Tony opened his mouth, but Steve grabbed his arm and towed him out. He didn't release him until they were outside, and Steve led him back to where Happy was waiting for them in the car.

“Did you see?” Tony asked, voice harsh. “You saw it, right?”

“I did,” Steve said. “But if that’s Nemesis, they’re being pretty obvious about it.”

“Yeah, but maybe that’s Ross’ side of them. You saw his reaction—it was just like Pete when the Stones got rowdy. That could have been Ego giving him hell for it. I’m sure I’m right on this, Steve. Think back—he didn’t create as much of an issue about the Accords as we expected, which could be because he’s got a bigger aim. If that is Nemesis, they’re not going to care about The Accords when they’ve got Zemo and Bucky and whatever else they’re planning.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, I think you could be right. How we find out for sure, though, I don’t know.”

“We ask Mind,” Tony said. “He’s obviously not sensed Ego when he’d been around Ross, but he’d always been Vision in control. Even if he’s watching through Vision, which he’s got to be, he might not have full access to his abilities.”

He raked a hand through his hair and stopped with his hand on the car door, Happy peering out of his window at them.

"This is good, Steve,” he said. “If that is Nemesis, we know where the threat is coming from, and we can monitor it." He yanked open the door and slid in. When Steve was in beside him, he said, "We've got to talk to Mind. I want Pete’s perspective on this. We need to get him on BARF so we can talk face to face.”

“Agreed,” Steve said, cheered out of his worry slightly by the idea of talking to Peter properly.

“You gonna shut that door, Cap?” Happy asked, turning in his seat. “Only it’s safer to drive with them closed.”

Tony snorted, and Steve apologized as he closed the door. His mind was reeling with the idea that they might have found Nemesis—and who would be a more perfect choice than Ross, with his grudge. If they knew the direction the threat was coming from, they had a chance to stop it. Tony could track Ross without an issue.

Just because they were no match for Nemesis, they could create a line of defense between them and Peter.

xXx

Ross knew Ego was going to be unhappy. Though she had been quiet within his mind since Stark and Rogers had left, Ross was expecting the summoning. Therefore, it came as no surprise when he found himself pulled into his own head when he was finally alone in his hotel room that evening.

As always, he found himself in the Oval Office, opposite Ego, who sat in the place of power and scowled at him.

“What were you thinking?” she snarled.

Ross knew he should apologize, but he was annoyed. It had been almost a year of life here now, and they had not acted against the Asset at all. He was still living his free and happy life. Ross had waited long enough. He was sick of living through these days again of only partial power.

"I was promised revenge, and we have done nothing! They are having all the success. They had the Accords; they now have Ellis on their side to clear The Winter Soldier’s name; we have done nothing!”

She narrowed her eyes at him, a steely glint in them, and he wondered if he had said too much.

“We are moving in the direction we need,” she said, tone carefully measured. “We have a Black Widow. We have a Winter Soldier. We have a feed of information coming from inside the Avengers stronghold.”

“We don’t have surveillance,” Ross said. “Zemo’s recruit has failed us.”

“Beck has failed to achieve surveillance, yes, but he has other talents.”

Ross scoffed. “The illusions? What use are they?”

“They are going to help us break the child. With them and our fighters, and the candidate Zemo is going to find, we will soon be equipped to act. You will be patient, Ross, or I will send you back to Gryn Fylds and find myself a new vessel.”

Ross gaped. She couldn’t do that to him; she’d promised they would be together. They were Nemesis now, and he could not bear to lose that power. It belonged to them. 

"Are you going to behave with a little more caution in the future?" she asked.

Ross nodded quickly. “Yes, of course. I apologize.”

“Good, because I will not suffer your insubordination again. In fact, I think you need a reminder.”

Before Ross could say more than, “No, I don’t need—,” white light had surged from her eyes, flooding towards him, and surrounding his body as he rose to his feet and backed away.

The light poured into him, burning and crushing, ripping and tearing, and he screamed.

“This is your fault,” her voice whispered. “You know that.”

Ross couldn’t speak or nod to agree. He was consumed with pain. He needed no more reminder than this.

Pain was its own warning.

xXx

Two days after their meeting with Ross, at the end of a Wednesday lab session with Peter, Steve called with the message that Mind had made an appearance.

Tony was eager to go to the compound and talk to him, but he wasn’t about to rush Peter out, so he spent the last fifteen minutes before Happy arrived to drive him home fine-tuning the third BARF system and saw him down to the lobby on his own way out, the BARF glasses tucked in his pocket.

He saw Peter off and then gave Pepper a quick call to tell her where he was going and then headed to the garage to get a car.

He took his Acura, which would eat the miles when he got out of the city, and cranked up the music for the drive.

He was excited to get there, and the hope that he would not only get to talk to Peter but also get answers about Ross boosted him. He was almost convinced now that Ross was Nemesis. The signs were there, and it would make sense for Ego to choose him. Not only was he a demented monster, like her, but he also had a grudge against Peter for what he’d done to him.

And the time of their arrival in 2016 made sense now, too. Mind said it was Nemesis that chose the moment Peter sent them to, and the day of the Lagos disaster and Tony’s BARF demonstration at MIT was the same day Ross was appointed as Secretary of State. That also played into Ego’s plans as that was Ross’ most powerful position before he became President, and that appointment came too late to target Peter as that happened after he died.

It all added up, and Tony just needed Peter’s confirmation now.

He arrived at the compound, parked in the garage, and rushed through the halls to the common room where Bucky, Steve, Natasha, and Vision were gathered. He didn't know where the others were, but he dismissed the question at once when he recognized the yellow of Vision's eyes, which meant it was Mind in control.

“Did they tell you?” he asked, fixing his eyes on Vision.

“We did,” Steve said, and Vision nodded.

"I don't know if you're correct, though," Vision said. "I have not seen Ross in this time. I am often paying attention to what is happening here, as much as Peter can support, but I have not been in control and therefore able to see clearly. We need to either facilitate a meeting between him and me, which I am wary of as Ego will see me as clearly as I see her. The other option is for Peter to investigate. He can now if he uses Space to travel as he did when he witnessed the discussion between you all upon discovering he possessed me and the other Stones. He need not leave the bed at all. In fact, I think Peter would prefer that as he will see something other than what he sees now."

“What does he see now?” Natasha asked curiously. “Is he still unconscious?”

"Yes, in a way. If he was to use his energy in that way, he could regain consciousness, but as he has cut himself off from the rest of reality, he would merely see his surroundings frozen in stasis. That is no better than being unconscious. Most of the time, he watches his memories change with each new experience as he rests, which he usually enjoys. He also spends time with us.”

Natasha nodded. “That sounds tough.”

“It’s hard on him,” Vision agreed. “But he now has the chance to experience time with you through BARF. I assume that’s your plan now? He is waiting for the sense of you there.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got the new set here, and the other two are in the lab.” He looked around. “Who’s coming with me?”

Bucky raised his hand at once and said, voice brooking no argument, “I am.”

“Nat?” Steve asked, his face carefully controlled.

She laughed. “It’s okay, Steve. I’ll talk to him next time. You boys go ahead.”

Steve thanked her and leaped to his feet. Tony led them back through to the lab, snatched the glasses from the drawer, threw them to Steve and Bucky, then put on his own pair.

As soon as the scene formed around them, he found himself on the edge of the lake outside the Tool Shed, geese splashing into the lake and the sun sinking towards the mountains opposite.

He guessed from their location that it was Bucky who had taken control of the simulation, as this was his place with Peter.

They all looked around, searching for a sign of Peter, but it was his voice that reached them first, a moment before he appeared by the Tool Shed entrance.

“All of you?” he asked, his voice pitched high with excitement.

Before Tony could answer, to tell him he’d finished the last pair he and Peter had been working on alone, the air was rushing out of him with a laugh as Peter threw himself at Steve, almost knocking him over.

“God, I missed you,” he said, voice muffled by Steve’s chest. “I know I’ve seen you, but it’s not me-me, not like this.”

He released Steve and then threw himself at Tony, clung to him a moment, and chuckled as Tony pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then released him and collided with Bucky.

With them all greeted, he bounced from foot to foot and said, “Man, this is so cool. I didn’t realize the third set was done. I didn’t know who to expect to come.” He hugged his arms around himself. “I’m so happy it’s all of you.”

Tony put an arm around him and hugged him close. “It’s good to see you, too, Pete. I know we’ve got you sometimes, and I love it, but it’s not you at the same time.”

Peter nodded, too-long hair flopping into his eyes. “Yeah, I get that. It’s got to be weird. But for me, where you are, I mean, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.” He fixed his eyes on Tony. “Thank you for helping me patrol. It helped me so much. Before, I’d built up this phobia about it, but I’m more confident now than ever.”

“I noticed,” Tony said, resting his cheek on Peter’s hair. “It was great for me, too.”

Peter sighed happily and then stepped away from Tony with what looked like regret and said, "Okay. Nemesis. I’ve discussed it with The Stones, and we don’t know if it’s Ross, since I wanted to talk to you first, but it does add up. Ego is powerful, can do some of the things we can, so fetching him from Gryn Fylds would be no problem.”

“Can you go see if he’s still there? Steve asked. “Is it safe for you?”

Peter nodded eagerly. “Yeah, absolutely. I’ll go now.”

Tony watched, waiting for the moment he'd disappear, but instead, his eyes became distant, and his chin dropped to his chest. He stayed perfectly immobile for a moment, a disconcerting sight, and then his head snapped up, and he took a deep breath.

“Okay. Whoa. That was crazy.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, Ross is gone. Unless some other space traveler has grabbed him, which I doubt since Quill said it’s not a popular destination, it was Ego. He’s now with her. They’re Nemesis.”

“This is good,” Steve said. “We know who it is.” 

“Yes,” Tony growled. “It’s that asshole. I knew you should have—” He cut himself off, but Peter knew what he was going to say.

He frowned and said, “Maybe I should have killed him, but then we wouldn’t have known who Nemesis was. You’ve got an advantage now. I know you can’t exactly set a tail on him, and you sure as hell can’t kill Nemesis, but you can monitor what he’s doing. Right?”

Tony nodded. “I can try. The fact he’s got someone of his side that can source calls back to the Tower means they’ve got a good head for technology. Still, I’m better.”

Peter grinned. “Of course you are. Really, this is the best advantage we’ve got, better even than Bucky’s connection with Zemo.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, voice rough. “The advantage we’re risking since we’re going public about me. Which is down to you.”

Peter beamed, completely unabashed.  “I know, but it’s the right thing. I don’t want you to be in hiding all this time when you’ve got a chance to be free; it’s not fair on you.”

Bucky sighed. “I know that, but if we lose the connection to Zemo because of it, we’re blind.”

Peter shook his head. “Not now we’ve got Ross we’re not. And even if we didn’t have that I'd still want you to be free."

Bucky shook his head. “Bud, I get that, but this is about so much more than my freedom.”

Peter crossed his arms over his chest, expression mulish. “It’s not for me, and I don’t think it’s a problem. When they clear your name, you can do more for Zemo, so you might learn more.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Yeah, you believe that?”

Peter crossed to him and hugged him. His face tucked into Bucky’s chest, he said, “I believe it’s the right thing to do.”

Bucky's eyes softened, and he hugged Peter in return, resting his cheek on his hair and smiling.

Steve watched them, smiling fondly, and when they parted, said, “How long have you got to be with us, Queens?”

Peter shrugged. “As long as you’ve got with me. I’m not tired yet, so I can stay. I know you’ve all got lives and stuff going on now, and I’m already taking loads of your time.”

Bucky grinned. “They have lives, yeah, but I’ve got a free schedule until the trial starts, so I can spend all the time with you I like.”

Peter beamed, shifting from foot to foot with anxious energy, and said, “Awesome.”

Tony smiled, seeing his son’s pleasure. He would like to be here all the time, too, but Peter was right: he did have a lot going on. He needed to spend time with Pepper; he needed to create a system to track Ross. If he could not be with Peter all the time, and he couldn’t, at least Bucky could be.

As long as Peter had one person he loved with him, Tony would be happy.

Chapter Text

Things with Tony got better and better for Peter, and he was beginning to feel comfortable around him in a way he could never have imagined before. He no longer saw Tony Stark, superhero, and genius; he saw Tony, his friend. However, he still hadn’t been able to make himself call him anything but Mr. Stark, despite his frequent requests.

They were working on Tony’s new, nanite suit, which was apparently the fiftieth suit he’d made overall, and Peter was loving it. The way it worked was fascinating, though he didn’t yet understand all of the science. Tony was teaching him, though, and he knew one day it would click into place for him as everything before had done.

They were chatting as they worked, Tony filling him in on their mission to clear Sergeant Barnes' name. 

“And the trial has been announced to start January thirteenth,” Tony said as he tweaked the left foot thruster with a screwdriver.

“That’s great,” Peter said. “I’m really glad he’s doing it.”

Tony smiled, and it looked like there was a secret there as he replied, “Oh, yeah. I know you are.” He dropped the screwdriver down on the bench and straightened up. “We’ve got thirty minutes until Happy arrives to take you home. Let’s head upstairs and get a drink before you go.”

Peter wanted to protest, much preferring to learn than drink soda smoothie, but Tony spoke before he could.

“I promise not to work on it without you, kid. I’ll save it for next week.”

Peter frowned, his heart sinking with disappointment, which he made a conscious effort to conceal. “You’re busy Saturday?”

“Actually, I’m hoping you’ll be busy with me. We—the Avengers—are having a Christmas party Saturday night at the compound, and I thought you might like to come along.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open, and he gabbled, “Me, with the… the Avengers? At the… the compound?”

Tony grinned. “Exactly. We were supposed to go to the compound months ago but still haven’t done it. Also, I’ve kept you to myself long enough—according to them, at least. I thought it’d be good for you, give you a chance to mingle with other superheroes.”

Peter started to reply, “Mr. Stark, I’m really not—” but Tony spoke over him.

“You’re what I say you are, kid. And I say Spider-Man is a superhero, ergo Peter Parker is a superhero.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked expectant, as if waiting for Peter’s argument.

He would have liked to give one, as he knew better, but he knew Tony well enough now to know there was no point arguing.

“I’d really like to come,” he said instead.

Tony clapped his hands. “Great, I’ll let them know you’re coming. It's nothing fancy, so you don't need to get dressed up. It'll be pretty low-key. We'll all be there—Rhodey, too, as he's got the holiday off duty to spend with Pep and me. I'll drive you to the compound myself in the afternoon, give you the tour, and we'll be ready for the party after dinner. Which, I should warn you, is a free for all with Cap and Bucky there since they eat almost as much as you."

Peter chuckled. “That sounds awesome. I’d like to see Sergeant Barnes, Rhodey, and Steve again, and it’d be awesome to meet the others. Are you sure they really want to meet me, though?”

Tony chuckled. “I’m positive. I’ve been taking hell for not bringing you there sooner.”

Peter wasn’t sure he believed him since they were The Avengers and he was just Peter. Still, it would be amazing to meet them all. Ned would lose his mind when he told him. 

“Awesome,” he said.

"Shut it down, Fri," Tony said, and the music stopped and holograms shrunk into their bases. He placed his hand on Peter's shoulder and guided him out of the room and to the elevator.

xXx

On Saturday afternoon, Tony picked Peter up from his apartment, stopped to talk to May for a moment, assuring her he'd take care of her nephew. Peter seemed nervy, a little unsure when he talked, which he hadn’t for a while, but Tony figured that made sense with what he was about to do.

He’d gotten the go-ahead from May for Peter to stay overnight at the compound, and Tony was excited to show him his room. Before, when he’d offered Peter a place as an Avenger, he’d had a room prepared for him, but Peter had never stayed in it.

Tony had spent more time on it this time, choosing the most comfortable bed and adjusting the lights and shutters which Friday could control to help Peter make it exactly what he wanted it to be with his enhanced senses: just like he had his room in 2023. He’d not decorated it yet, wanting that to be something he and Peter did together, the same way he wanted his room at the Tower to be designed by him. The only additional item Tony had put in there was a soft blanket as he knew Peter liked to wrap himself in them, and he remembered how they’d comforted him in the future.

Peter had no idea he had a room in either place yet, but Tony was looking forward to telling him about the compound, at least. With Peter staying overnight for the first time, if that was a success, it would be the first of many stays. It would be great if he could have Peter at the Tower or compound for a whole weekend the way he’d planned to.

He led Peter out to the car, enjoying his open-mouthed amazement when he saw Tony’s Acura and prepared himself for an enjoyable ride. Peter loved speed, that was clear from how he worked as Spider-Man, so Tony was about to show him what his best car could achieve.

xXx

Rhodey was sitting in the common room, enjoying an early beer and the happy atmosphere of the room. Like all of them who did not yet know Peter well—Rhodey had only met him a few times—he was eager to see him. They'd all heard so much about him and heard his messages passed on through Mind, but his future was sometimes hard to imagine. It would be interesting to meet him, talk to him, and see if they could sense the strength he would hold in the future in him as he was now.

“Boss has arrived with Peter,” Friday reported. “He asked me to remind you—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint said, speaking over her. “No spooking the Child-Savior, act normal, don’t stare. We know.”

“He’s not Jesus,” Natasha said, a deep frown on her brow. “He won’t even be a child by the times he reaches that battlefield—not where it matters.”

Clint shrugged. “Right now, he’s a child. And he is gonna be a Savior if it all works out.”

“Which it will,” Rhodey said, knowing any other outcome would be the end of his best friend.

“We’ll all behave,” Natasha said, a warning in her tone and her eyes fixed on Clint. 

Rhodey had a feeling Natasha was eager for Peter’s arrival, too.

From what Tony said, she didn't have a strong bond with him where they'd come from, but she cared. Knowing how tough it was to get Natasha to admit she cared about you, it showed, once more, how special this kid was. Rhodey knew she'd not had much time with him since they'd come back, less even than him as he'd been able to speak to Peter at least. He supposed she was looking forward to having a chance at last.

Vision, who was sitting beside Wanda, kept glancing towards the door. Rhodey was puzzled, and then he realized Vision had more interaction with Peter than anyone but Tony, Steve, and Bucky. He saw him as he was in 2023 each time Mind paid a visit and stuffed him with Peter and the Stones, however that worked, but this would be his first time to meet his younger version.

“You excited, Vision?” he asked.

Vision nodded. “I am curious to see the differences in the version of Peter I see and the person he is now. I know there will be physical differences, he’s younger, and his eyes will not be the same, but I wonder if I will have the same sense of him as a person."

“What’s that about?” Clint asked, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. “You hear Tony and Steve talk about him, he’s some kind of saint, and Barnes is maybe even more heady with praise, but he can’t be that good. I remember what I was like at that age, and there was nothing saintly about me.”

Vision considered before answering. “I would not say he is a saint; I don’t believe any human could truly be that good, despite what religious leaders say. However, there is a goodness to Peter, a kindness in the boy that I see when I am not here, that I think would shine through the flaws that are there.”

“Not a saint,” Natasha said thoughtfully. “But good. And in more ways than the fact he’s going to save the world.”

Steve and Bucky came in through the door behind, both dressed in workout clothes, and Steve said, “Friday said Queens is here.”

“He is, but we’ve not seen him yet,” Natasha said. “Tony was going to give him a tour, remember, so he’s probably doing that.”

Rhodey downed the rest of his beer and got to his feet, “Then I’m gonna go find them.”

“Tony might—” Steve started.

“Tony might throw a tantrum about me gate-crashing,” Rhodey said, nodding. “But he needs to learn to share.” He smirked. “It’ll be character building.”

Also, he wanted to see Peter again already.

He set his empty bottle down on the table and said, “Friday, where are they?”

“They’re outside still,” she said. “By the Quinjet.”

Rhodey strode out of the room, through the business parts of the compound, where people moved back and forth, each occupied with their own work, and to the main doors.

He heard Peter’s eager voice before he saw him. “How fast is it, Mr. Stark?”

“Well, officially, a Quinjet is capable of Mach 2.1, but I’ve tweaked this one a little. On a good day, we can reach 2.5.”

“Wow,” Peter breathed.

Rhodey rounded the corner and saw Peter staring up at the jet’s wing with a look of awe. His hands were trembling at his sides as if he wanted to reach out and touch it.

“You can touch, Peter,” he said, drawing both Peter’s and Tony’s attention. “You can’t hurt it.”

“Colonel Rhodes!” Peter said with obvious pleasure. “Hi!”

"It's Rhodey," he corrected. "And don't let Tony brag about his Mach 2.5. You want real speed, you need an SR-71. That baby goes to 3.3."

Peter’s eyes widened. “Wow. How does that feel?”

“There are no words,” Rhodey said.

Tony snorted. “What he means is that it feels like you’re stuffed inside a washer on a spin cycle, and your internal organs are in a mosh pit.”

Rhodey chuckled. “He’s not wrong, I guess, but that’s the best feeling in the world.”

Peter looked dubious.

“You need something, Rhodey?” Tony asked, a brow quirked.

“Yeah, I need some time with Peter. Now you’ve finally decided to share, I’m going to make the most of it.”

Peter smiled slightly, and Tony rolled his eyes. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Rhodey moved to Peter’s side and said, “So, kid, how have you been?”

"Great," Peter said. "I mean, yeah, there was the whole thing with Liz's dad, which wasn't fun, but now…" He grinned. "It's all good."

Tony looked pleased and planted a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Come on, kid. I want to show you the gym. We’ve got stuff in there that’s equipped to test Steve and Bucky, so you might want to have a go at it—show Rhodey what you can do.”

Peter nodded eagerly, and Rhodey fell into step with them as Tony guided them through the door, along the halls during which Peter’s presence was noted with curious looks, and into the private areas of the Avengers space and the gym. Rhodey noted that Tony skirted the common room, taking the long way around.

When they entered the gym, Peter's wide eyes took in the mats in the center of the room where they sparred, the ropes suspended from the ceiling, which they used to build strength and stamina, the treadmills, bikes, cross trainers, and the whole wall devoted to weights.

Peter moved seemingly automatically to the weights and touched a finger to the largest, which Rhodey had seen even Steve struggle with.

Though Rhodey knew on an intellectual level that Peter was strong, he’d lifted a building off of himself, he was still shocked when Peter, at Tony’s encouragement of, “Go ahead, kid,” lifted the eight-hundred-pound weight in one hand with what seemed no more effort than Rhodey lifting a fifteen.

His mouth dropped open, and Tony chuckled, nudging him with an elbow. "Told ya."

“You did,” Rhodey said. “But seeing is something else.”

Peter looked back at them, blushed, and set the weight down. He pointed at the ropes and said, "We have these in school, and I hate them. Before the spider bite, I couldn't get more than six feet up before I started wheezing, but now…" He shrugged. "There are faster ways."

“There are?” Rhodey asked.

Peter nodded, and Tony said, “Go on then, Pete. Show the Colonel what you can do.”

Peter considered a moment, then bent his legs, leaped up, and clung to the wall halfway up, which was at least fifteen feet. He stayed there for a moment, then kicked off and leaped to the rope which he held onto for a moment, then dropped like a stone, landing neatly on the balls of his feet, his fingers touching the floor in a pose reminiscent of Tony in his suit.

Rhodey wondered if Peter realized just how alike they were.

Tony beamed, obviously proud of his son’s show of skills. “Come on, kid,” he said. “I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping, dump your bag, and then we’ll go do introductions.”

Peter looked a little nervous now, but he allowed Tony to steer him out, Rhodey following.

Rhodey decided to head back to the common room, so he was there for the introductions part of the day. He was looking forward to seeing everyone's reactions to Peter and his reactions to them.

xXx

Peter was nervous as Tony guided him through the halls. He’d thought a lot about this, dreamed of it—actually meeting his heroes. When Tony said it was going to become a reality, fear had taken over. He thought he was way out of his depth, and he couldn’t imagine why any of them would want to meet him. Though, as he told himself, he’d once thought that about Tony Stark, too, and he now thought of Tony as someone he could count as being close to.

Tony opened a door and steered Peter into a large room with a hand on his shoulder. It was as fancy as Tony's apartment, sleek lines, floor to ceiling windows, cream leather couches, and thick carpet, but it was the people on the couches that made Peter catch his breath.

Peter Parker was in the same room as the Avengers, and from the smiles on most of the faces, they were pleased to see him.

There were two that weren't smiling, the man Peter recognized as Hawkeye, who seemed to be appraising Peter, and Vision, who was staring at Peter with intensity as if he was searching for an identifying mark.

“Peter, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Peter,” Tony said.

Steve, who was on the couch beside Bucky, waved and said, "Hey, Queens. Come on in. I'll do the actual introductions since Tony is too lazy."

Peter walked forward and met Steve, who stood to greet him and placed a hand on his back.

“Okay, Queens, you’ve met Natasha, sort of, and this is Wanda, Vision, Sam, and Clint.”

Sam, Wanda, and Vision raised hands in greeting, and Wanda said, “It’s nice to meet you,” but Clint still appraised him.

“Uh… hello, Mr. Hawkeye,” Peter said, wanting to break his focus.

Clint stopped staring and laughed. “Mr. Hawkeye! Yes! I love it. Thanks, kid. You’re all now on notice—I will now only answer to Mr. Hawkeye.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and muttered, “I knew it,” which puzzled Peter as there seemed to be some hidden meaning behind it. She raised her voice and said, “If any of you encourage him on this, I will personally make you pay.”

Sam laughed. “Sorry, Clint, but I don’t want a pissed Black Widow on my ass.” He turned to Peter. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Peter. Please, call me Sam, since Mr. Falcon makes me sound like a zookeeper.

“Sure, Sam,” Peter said, smiling now and feeling more at ease.

They were heroes, Peter's heroes, but they were also people that joked and teased each other. In some ways, they weren't that different from the people Peter went to school with, and that was something he could get his head around.

 “You want a soda, Queens?” Steve said.

“Soda?” Clint scoffed. “It’s a party. Get the kid a beer.”

“No,” Tony said. “One, he’s fifteen, and his aunt would murder me if I gave him a beer. And two, with his metabolism, I can guarantee you’d be on your ass long before him, Barton.”

“No lie,” Bucky said, a smile edging his lips and a distant look in his eyes as if he was remembering something. 

“Yeah, I’d prefer soda,” Peter said. “I’ve not had a beer before, but I’ve never been that interested in it either.”

Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance, fondness in both their eyes, and Peter had the feeling he was missing some inside joke.

“Come sit,” Bucky said, patting the seat beside him, and Peter obeyed, taking the can of coke that Steve brought him. “It’s good to see you again,” Bucky said. “I didn’t get the chance to apologize before.”

Peter shook his head quickly. “No, no, it’s totally fine. I’m sorry for the whole webbing you to a wall thing, really, but…”

“But you thought I was a threat,” Bucky said. “And I was. You did the right thing, bud.”

"Oh, well, that's good then. And Mr. Stark said you’ve got a court date.”

Bucky nodded and reached as if he was going to tousle Peter’s hair, then dropped his hand again. “I have, which is down to you.”

“All I did was a few searches,” Peter said. “I was more curious after I met you, looked deeper, but I had no idea it would lead to this.”

“No,” Bucky said seriously. “It’s down to you, and I’m grateful.”

Peter smiled, though bemused. “Cool.”

Rhodey asked him about the things he and Tony were doing in the lab together, and Peter started to explain the nanites they were using, Tony adding occasional interjections.  Peter was relaxing into the topic when he felt someone’s gaze on him.

He looked around and saw Vision watching him closely. It was strange to be watched like that, but it was stranger still when he noticed Vison's eyes were a different color to what he'd seen five minutes ago. Vision was also smiling, as if he was seeing something that pleased him.

Of all the Avengers, Vision was the one Peter thought would have the least interest in him, but he seemed almost fond as he stared.

Tony caught his look and said pointedly, “Something you need, Vis?”

Vision's lips lifted in a wider smile, and he shook his head. Peter looked away and then glanced back as he heard a small sound of pain. Vision was touching a hand to his forehead now as if it pained him—which Peter thought had to be impossible. Then he shook his head and said, “Again,” in a whisper.

Peter noticed his eyes were no longer yellow, which was strange but there was so much about Vision that Peter didn’t understand, so he relegated the question of how it happened to be asked later and went back to his conversation with Rhodey. However, but his attention was less focused now. He was starting to think he was missing something about the people he was with—as if they all knew something he didn’t. They were the Avengers, so there were probably a million things they knew that he didn’t, but he had a feeling it was something that concerned him.

Clueless about what it could be, he shrugged it off and went back to his conversation and the good atmosphere surrounding him.

xXx

Steve clapped his hands and said, “Go on, Queens, you know you want to.”

Peter bit his lip and looked up at the white ceiling. "I don't know. It looks kinda pristine, and I don't want to leave footprints."

"If you do," Natasha said, looking just as eager, "Clint can clean them off since this was his dare."

The party was well in swing now; there were many empty bottles of beer on the tables and shot glasses, which were being filled with tequila by Sam. It was the absence of Thor that meant they could use actual glassware, and it amused Steve to see the similarities and differences between the party now and the one they'd had after the press conference in 2023.

One of the biggest differences was that Peter had constantly refused all offers of alcohol and quickly smelled the vodka in the spiked glass of coke Clint had tried to get him to drink.

“It’s Mr. Hawkeye to you,” Clint said. “And I will clean the ceiling if it needs it. It’s a fair trade to see a kid dancing on the ceiling. I don’t believe he can really do it.”

Tony had been bragging about Peter’s abilities, full of paternal pride, and Clint had refused to believe it. He’d dared Peter to dance on the ceiling to prove it. Steve was eager to see Peter do it. Not only would it be cool to witness, but it would also wipe the smirk off Clint's face. 

Peter looked at him a moment, eyebrows knitted together, then said, “Okay. Sure.”

He jumped, landing halfway up the wall, then climbed onto the vaulted ceiling, turned himself upside down, and hung there, his feet inexplicably stuck to the paint while his hair hung down.

“Whoa!” Clint said.

Tony looked smug. “Told ya.”.

Clint shook his head and smirked. “No, the dare was that he dances on the ceiling. Looks to me like he’s just hanging out.”

Peter sighed and said, “Okay, but I’m not dancing to this. What is it? It sounds like something they play in Frankie’s, which is a dive bar in Queens that I’m always walking drunks home from before they pass out in a dumpster.”

“Okay, gross,” Clint said. “Also, not cool. This is my favorite song. It’s a classic. There’s nothing as good as Duran Duran on any playlist you’ve got, I guarantee it.”

“What would you like to listen to, bud?” Bucky asked.

Peter considered and then said, “Friday, can you play on Juju On That Beat.”

That clearly meant something to Clint, who groaned and said, “Damn, I thought I’d escaped that damn song when Lila grew out of it.”

The most atrocious song began playing.

Steve knew his taste was a little antiquated, but this was dire. It was also loud. The beat seemed to resonate in his chest, niggling into his brain. A moment later, though, his discomfort was replaced by laughter as Peter began to throw his hands around in an intricate dance like something out of one of those rap videos Steve had been subjected to by Wanda, who had said they were 'viral,' whatever that meant.

He watched as Peter threw himself around, upside down, feet gripping the ceiling, and laughter rocked him. This was Peter as he knew him best, throwing himself into a party and enjoying himself. He was relaxed and happy.

Steve hadn’t expected him to settle around them yet, it seemed far too soon for them to hope for that, but his beaming smile as he danced was proof that he was comfortable now.

Tony took out his phone and snapped pictures, and Pepper watched with a line between her brows like she thought someone should be standing underneath Peter to catch him when he fell. Bucky was watching Peter with a fond smile, perhaps seeing the same reflection of the future that Steve was.

When the song ended, Tony led a round of applause, and Peter dropped down, flipped, and landed neatly on his feet, his cheeks flushed with blood and eyes shining. Pepper took a step forward as if to help him, and then she dropped her hands, smiled, and shook her head.

“Told ya,” Tony said again.

“You did,” Clint agreed. “Okay, kid, god-awful song aside, that was pretty awesome. You have Mr. Hawkeye’s admiration and respect.”

Natasha lobbed an empty beer bottle at his head, which his hand snapped out and caught an inch away from his eye. Peter gaped.

"Don't mind them, Peter," Sam said. "They're not opposed to violence against each other. I think they see it as a bonding activity. I've tried to teach them there are better, healthier ways, but they're not a receptive audience."

Peter laughed.

“When I said I’d hurt anyone that called you Mr. Hawkeye, I meant you, too, Barton,” Natasha said, though she was smiling slightly.

Clint considered a moment, then shrugged and said, “Okay, I’ll retire the name until the next party. Kid, you better call me Clint since Nat doesn’t make idle threats.”

Peter grinned. “Sure. Okay, Clint.”

“Now Peter’s showed us what he’s capable of, how about a show of forties best moves from the centenarians in the room,” Tony said, smirking at Bucky and Steve. “You can be the dame, Bucky.”

Bucky flipped Tony the bird, making Peter laugh again, and Steve said, “Or we could watch you dance, Tony.”

“No,” Pepper said quickly. “Don’t encourage him. No one thinks they’re a better dancer than Tony.”

Tony beamed, kissed her cheek, took her hand, held it in his, and placed his free hand on her waist. Pepper laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly, and Tony began to twirl her around the room as Friday began to play a soft waltz.

Peter watched them, eyes shining with happiness still, and Steve took his phone from his pocket and snapped a picture of him, Tony and Pepper dancing in the foreground.

He thought Tony might like to see the moment captured on paper.

xXx

It was around midnight, and the party was starting to wind down. Tony and Pepper were by the window, looking out at the snow falling onto the grounds. Tony had his arm around her back, and Pepper was leaning her head on his shoulder.

“You know, if the snow continues overnight, you’ll have to fly Peter home tomorrow,” she said.

“Yeah, he’d love that,” Tony said. “Or he could stay until it melts.”

She laughed. "I think that'd be stretching May's tolerance a little too much. Just because he doesn't have school until the new year, it doesn't mean she doesn't want to spend time with her nephew."

Tony sighed. “I know. One day, though.”

“One day,” she agreed.

Tony was perfectly content in the moment. The worries they all faced, Nemesis, Josef, Zemo, Bucky's trial, Peter's future, weren't weighing on him at all now. He was just enjoying the time with the people he loved, happy to be sharing Peter at last, even though he'd not wanted to for a long time.

He saw now that he had been selfish, that Peter needed this. He'd been ready to meet them, settled in his role as Spider-Man again, and he was growing in the confidence that had been missing as Peter Parker, too. It had taken a long time, and Tony had eagerly awaited it, but he was becoming more and more like that Peter Tony loved in 2023.

Perhaps it was a false hope, but he thought one day soon he would finally graduate from being Mr. Stark and become Tony.

Tony’s mind mused on the evening they’d shared, Peter, encouraged by Steve’s urging and Clint’s skepticism, had shown his abilities by doing a sort of viral dance while hanging upside down from the ceiling. That had blown all of those that did not know him from 2023 away, and it had brought a rush of happiness for those that did know him to see him happy and comfortable around them.

Peter also sat with Pepper at dinner, and their conversation about his life in Queens and Pepper’s work had been involved and enthusiastic. Tony had watched them with a thrill of happiness in his heart.

He could see already a closer bond forming between Peter and Pepper than they’d ever had before. As he’d expected and hoped, Pepper was able to give more of her affection to Peter when she was not focused on defending Morgan from the struggles that came hand in hand with loving him.

Pepper turned back and looked at the group around the couches and said, "You should get him to bed."

Tony checked his watch. "It's not that late yet. He's fifteen, not five."

She laughed. “He looks pretty young right now. Look, Tony.”

He followed her gaze and huffed a laugh. Peter was fast asleep, his head resting on Bucky’s shoulder, his lips parted with his soft breaths.

“Do you think it’s possible there’s some kind of echo, Pep?” he asked. “I mean between him in 2023 and now? He’s so comfortable with Steve and Bucky, just like he is in 2023. It’s like a part of him knows and loves them already.”

Pepper shrugged. “It’s possible, I guess. Maybe he just senses how they feel about him.” He kissed his cheek and whispered, “How you feel about him. Maybe neither of you have said it yet, maybe Peter doesn’t even know it, but I can see when he looks at you—he loves you, honey.”

Tony felt warmth burgeon in his chest at the reinforcement of what he already thought he’d sensed from Peter. There was no question for him—he loved Peter as much as he loved anyone or anything in his life—but he’d not expected it to form so soon on Peter’s side. But sometimes, when Peter looked at him, he saw the affection in his eyes of the future.

Perhaps he and Pepper were seeing what they wanted to see, what they knew would come in the future, or perhaps things were falling into place already.

Tony kissed Pepper on the cheek and crossed the room. Bucky smiled at him as he approached and said, "He passed out, mid-conversation."

Tony chuckled. “I guess we wore him out. You want to carry him? You can do it smoother than me, and I really don’t want to wake him.”

Bucky nodded, looking pleased, and supported Peter as he slipped out from beside him and lifted him into his arms. Peter looked very young when sleeping, just as he did in the future, and Tony could imagine this was Peter when he really was a child, in the years he’d not had a chance to know him.

He led Bucky out and along the hall to where Peter would sleep—and one day make his own. He pulled back the covers, and Bucky settled Peter down. He stopped, bent over him for a moment, and then pushed back Peter's hair with his metal hand and said, "Night, bud." He stopped, staring a moment, and then took the blanket Tony had bought and placed it beside Peter with a small smile of reminiscence.

Bucky moved back, and Tony pulled the covers up to Peter's chin, remembering the last time he'd seen him in a bed which did not belong in a hospital.

It had been before Peter left to hunt Kaecilius, and Morgan had been sleeping in his arms. He felt a pang as he thought of his daughter, a longing to see her again, and perhaps that was what made him bend down and kiss Peter’s temple and whisper, “Love you, Pete.”

Peter had no idea he was there at all, he was fast asleep, so Tony could pretend for a moment that this was the Peter that knew he was loved, that knew Tony saw him as his son.

That was not true yet, but it would be one day, and Tony would enjoy what he had while he waited.

Chapter Text

The first day of the trial had arrived at last, and Bucky sat stiffly at the defense’s table in the courtroom. He knew Steve, Tony, and Natasha were seated behind him, and when he looked over his shoulder, Steve gave him a smile, Natasha a nod, and Tony a thumbs up.

“Face forward,” his attorney snapped. “You can’t look like you’re here on a trip with your buddies.”

Bucky nodded and muttered an apology.

On Bucky’s other side, T’Challa sat, dressed in a navy suit, and looking perfectly at ease. T’Challa’s presence was to maintain the charade that Bucky was under Wakanda's protection, though that would not matter if he was found guilty. If that happened, Bucky was going to be in the middle of a tug of war between the five countries in which his crimes were known.

There were more countries involved, but they'd not been traced back to him, for which he was grateful now he was about to be tried for them.

“Please rise for Justice Windsor,” a voice instructed.

They all rose, T’Challa brushing his elbow against Bucky’s and murmuring, “Remember who you are, Bucky—an innocent man.”

Bucky nodded slightly and then raised his head and fixed his features into a neutral mask as the judge marched in. He was American, which had taken a lot of negotiation. Each country wanted its own judge to handle the trial, and Ellis had to work hard and make many promises to bring them around.

Ellis didn’t care about Bucky at all, they knew, but he wanted Bucky to be seen to be tried and potentially prosecuted by America. The jury had been assembled of citizens of each country, though.

The judge took his seat, and then the jury filed in. Bucky didn't look at them, having been warned by his attorney to not attempt to charm them. Bucky thought that was a moot point as there was nothing about him that was charming.

His attorney, Campbell, was a forceful personality with strong opinions, Bucky didn’t like him, but Tony swore he was the best in the US.

Campbell had tried to persuade Bucky to forgo his prosthetic arm in order to look less threatening, but Bucky had refused. He wasn’t going to pretend to be a man with limitations now because he'd had none of the limitations when he'd murdered, and the jury would see right through the act when the evidence was shown. He was going to face this as Bucky Barnes, not playacting as something other than himself.

That was the point of this trial, after all—he was here to show them he was not The Winter Soldier. 

The judge invited the prosecution to speak, and a woman in a black pantsuit stood and walked towards the jurors.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “My name is Elle Benfleet, and my job here is not to try to incite emotion in you, as we all know you already feel strongly about this case. It was your countrymen that were murdered, your sovereign soil which was invaded by a terrorist—”

“Objection,” Campbell said, jumping to his feet. “Sergeant Barnes is not a terrorist.”

Benfleet turned and fixed Bucky in her icy stare as she answered. “The definition of a terrorist is “a person who uses unlawful violence and intimidation, especially against civilians, in the pursuit of political aims.” That applies to the defendant. He used unlawful violence. He intimidated all those that had heard of The Winter Soldier, including civilians. He was serving Hydra’s political aims. Tell me, Mr. Campbell, which part exactly do you object to?"

Campbell’s eyes were amused, though his mouth was a severe line as he answered, “I object to you defining Sergeant Barnes as The Winter Soldier when you are fully aware that we are here to prove that is not one and the same. Sergeant Barnes is as much a victim in this as anyone."

“He wasn’t a victim when he murdered my grandfather!” a rough voice with a Swedish accent bellowed from the gallery. “He wasn’t a victim when he made my mother watch him beat her father to death!”

“Order in the court,” Justice Windsor called. “Bailiff, please remove the gentlemen.”

There was a scuffle, and Bucky heard the bailiff trying to persuade the man to leave quietly, but his voice rang out as it moved away.

“Do you remember Hans Werner?” he shouted. “Do you remember his little girl? Do you remember my mother? She was six years old!”

Bucky flinched in spite of himself. Of course he remembered. He remembered each and every one of them. He remembered meeting the little girl’s eye on his way out of the house as she stood frozen, her eyes darting away and fixing on her dead father.

“It was not you,” T’Challa said quietly. “You are not that man.”

The man’s shouts drifted away, and the judge held up his hand. “The jury will be reminded that the outburst in the gallery is not court-given evidence. Mr. Campbell, your objection is sustained. This case is The United States versus Sergeant James Barnes, Ms.  Benfleet. Remembering that salient fact, you may proceed.”

She neatened her jacket and addressed the jury again. “The defense will try to tell you James Barnes is not The Winter Soldier now. They will cite mind control as the villain. However, they will also show that they are unable to prove that mind control exists or is even possible. They’re trying to make you believe in a Hollywood trope in order to persuade you that he is innocent. He is not innocent. As I said, It is not my job to incite emotion. It’s not my job to try to convince you he’s dangerous. The evidence you will hear will do that for me. It’s my job to be the line of truth between you and the defense, to be the representative of the victims in the history of James Barnes. We have evidence of twenty-four assassinations carried out by James Barnes, and you can be sure there are more that we do not know of.”

“Objection,” Campbell shouted. “Conjecture.”

“Sustained. The prosecution will remember the rules of the court. We deal only in evidence here.” He looked between the two attorneys. “Despite the number of news cameras in the room, this is not actually a movie set. Remember the sanctity of the court. No more grandstanding.

Benfleet nodded. “My apologies, Judge. My opening statement is complete.” She gave Bucky’s attorney a smile and nod. “I cede the floor to you.”

Campbell got to his feet and approached the jury. “I imagine you are feeling strong emotions now, even though Ms. Benfleet said that was not her job. Be assured, that is precisely what she wanted to do. She says Sergeant Barnes is the Winter Soldier. That is only true in the most basic root. He was The Winter Soldier for a long time, but that was never his choice. He was tortured, his mind was violated, and he was forced to become Hydra’s weapon. Ms. Benfleet says we cannot prove that, but we can. We have Hydra files that describe in detail what they did to him. We have video evidence of the trigger words being used. However, I do not want to start with The Winter Soldier. I want to tell you about James Buchanan Barnes, a good man that signed up to serve his country when war came to his door, a man that became one of the famous Howling Commandos, a man that went from soldier to victim thanks to Hydra…”

Bucky took a breath and looked down at the table, careful not to show his emotion on his face. He knew this was going to be a long and stressful process, and the end result could be that he was jailed for life in a foreign country. He was already struggling, and he had weeks ahead of him of this.

But it was what Peter wanted, both versions of him.

One of them, Peter of now, had sent him a good luck text that morning with too many emojis. The other had hugged Bucky and told him it would be fine before Bucky had finally dragged himself out of the BARF simulation, leaving Peter behind in 2023, waiting for him to come back.

xXx

Tony knew this was coming; he'd known from the moment the possibility of having Bucky go to trial came up, but he still wasn't ready for it when the fourth week of the trial came around. 

The prosecution, a shrew called Elle Benfleet, who Tony's own lawyers told him was the best next to them, rose to her feet and said, "You have heard the story of many of James Barnes’ victims, but you probably didn’t know much about them. However, these particular victims, one of which is perhaps his most famous, are known far and wide both inside the US and outside our borders." She shot Bucky a look that seemed designed to scorch him. "James Barnes was the murderer of Howard and Maria Stark.”

There was a ripple from the gallery; apparently, the leaked news from the prosecution had not reached everyone. Tony clenched his jaw.

“Howard Stark was an American hero. No, let me correct that—he was a global hero. His mind and technology were put to use to defeat the Nazis. He worked on the Manhattan Project.” She pointed at Steve in the gallery. “He was part of the experiment that brought us Captain America. Without Howard Stark’s work, the world would be a poorer place. Thanks to James Barnes, Howard Stark was taken before his time. James Barnes murdered him and his wife, leaving their son, who is even more of an asset to world security and as brilliant a mind, an orphan!”

She made it sound like Tony was a helpless infant when they’d died. He’d been twenty-one. Too young to lose them, their loss—his mother’s death—had broken him for a time, but he was a man.

He felt the eyes of the room on him, and he straightened his back and fixed his eyes on the back of Bucky's head, making sure there was only admiration and affection in his face. He would not let Benfleet use him as a poster child for Bucky's victims when Bucky was his family now.

“James Barnes was cunning,” she went on. “He made their murders look like a car accident to cover his crimes. It was not an accident, though, as I am about to demonstrate to you.”

Tony glanced at Natasha, lips parted with shock, and she shook her head. This video, if that was what was about to be shown, was supposed to have been wiped from all records. Tony had Friday do it himself.

His fears were realized, though, when a TV was wheeled in by a bailiff, and Benfleet inserted a disc, and the video which had torn Tony’s world apart started to play.

He looked away, not wanting to ever see it again, but he heard the motorcycle’s engine, the gunshot which blew out a tire, the crash. He tried to control his face, to not play into Benfleet’s hands, but it was a monumental struggle.

“Members of the jury, please pay attention,” Benfleet said. “See the experience and homicidal rage at play. Look at his eyes as he chokes the life out of Maria Stark.”

Tony flinched, and he had to fight to stay in his seat. He didn't want to be here for this. It was sickening.

The video continued, and Benfleet said, voice harsh, “Do they look like they are the actions of someone not in control of their own mind? Do you see any struggle in his eyes? Do you see the slightest hesitation?”

The sounds of the video ended, and Tony took a breath and looked up again, his face a mask once more.

“Mr. Campbell, do you have anything to add?” the judge asked.

“Yes, Judge,” Bucky’s attorney said, rising to his feet and taking Benfleet’s place by the television. “I would like you to watch the video again, if you will. Please pay attention to Sergeant Barnes' eyes. You have seen the killings, the horror that Ms. Benfleet wanted you to see, but I would like you to look deeper and see the third victim on the scene."

To Tony’s horror, he started the video again. Tony fixed his eyes on  the jury this time, wanting to see their reactions.

“Look at Sergeant Barnes’ eyes,” Campbell said. “Do you see the homicidal rage Ms. Benfleet mentions? Do you see hatred? Do you see any emotion at all? I don’t. These are murders, there’s no question, but they are not driven by any kind of passion, any personal desire. Those are the eyes of a man following orders without hesitation, because Sergeant Barnes' programming ensures there is never a question or hesitation between him and the object of his orders.”

Tony noted a few of the jury nodded, one of them, a matronly looking woman, was looking between Bucky on the video and in the room with a look of sympathy. He felt a wave of something like hope. If they could see Bucky was not in control, that he was a victim, they could not possibly find him guilty.

“You okay?” Steve whispered.

Tony nodded and replied, “Campbell’s good. I think this might go our way.”

“Of course it will,” Steve said, no doubt in his tone. “Queens wants this.”

Tony nodded again, but he was wary. Peter did want this, and he was the one whose plan they were following, but he had no control here. He had told them Time could not see the outcome of the trial.

In this, Peter was as blind as them all.

Chapter Text

The prosecution had rested their case, and it was finally time for the defense to have their say.

They'd been waiting for this for a month: a month of days in court, hearing the prosecution do their best to turn the jury against Bucky. Now, it was their turn to talk, and Steve was eager for it to start.  

Campbell rose to his feet, adjusted his tie, and said, "Members of the jury, you have heard each of Sergeant Barnes’ crimes listed in detail. You have heard all the horrors committed. I am now going to show you the crimes against Sergeant Barnes himself. I will show you proof that he was programmed to commit those murders. You will see video evidence of exactly how that programming worked and what it did to Sergeant Barnes.” He slapped his fist into his palm. “You will see he is an innocent man!"

He went to the TV that had been brought in and inserted a disc. The video began to play, and though Steve knew what would be on it, Natasha had found it herself, he had not wanted to see it.

The picture on the screen came into focus on Bucky strapped to a chair, metal bands around his wrists, chest, waist, and ankles. He was pale and panting, possibly recovering from the revival from the cryo-chamber. His eyes, though, showed that this was Bucky Barnes and not The Winter Soldier. They blazed with life, anger, hatred.

“Soldier, you are required for duty,” a voice said from off the screen.

Bucky's jaw jutted, and he said between his teeth, "I will do nothing for you."

“You will,” the voice replied

A man came into view. He was wearing green fatigues with the Hydra symbol on the chest, and in his hands was a red book. The Bucky on the screen, strapped down, flinched, and the Bucky in front of Steve at the defense table lowered his head.

The man turned a page of the book, and his voice recited, “"Желание. Ржавый. Семнадцать. Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный…”

Tony was stiff beside Steve, his hands fisted on his lap, and Steve understood his unease. They knew Bucky's programming was gone, Mind and Peter told them, but this was the first time it was being tested by the recitation of the trigger words.

T’Challa leaned close to Bucky and murmured, “You are strong,” too quiet for anyone but Bucky or Steve to hear, and Bucky nodded and raised his face.

Steve turned his attention back to the video, seeing Bucky’s blank face as he said, voice toneless, ”Я готов отвечать.”

“Я готов отвечать,” Campbell repeated. “For those of you that, like me, do not speak Russian, I have had those words translated. What Sergeant Barnes said was, ‘ready to comply.’ I know you can hear the difference in his voice, the loss of animation and emotion on his face. I know you can see the empty eyes. That is The Winter Soldier, ready for duty—ready to comply. There is nothing of Sergeant Barnes’ morality or control left in that man. What you see on that screen, ladies and gentlemen, what you see sitting in this courtroom, is a victim.”

“He’s good,” Natasha whispered.

Steve nodded, surveying the jury. He could see sympathy in some eyes, confusion in others. What he could not see, which he had seen when Benfleet was reciting Bucky’s crimes, was anger.

“You’ve got this, Buck,” he said quietly, knowing Bucky would hear, and he saw his head bob in a nod in return.

“I do,” he replied, too low to be heard, and Steve forced himself not to smile.

They had this.

xXx

Peter was sitting on the couch in his apartment, his eyes fixed on the screen as the prosecution gave their closing statement. His eyes were narrowed with dislike, but he felt a grudging respect for how calm and assured she was when she had to know what she was saying was wrong.

He’d been watching the courtroom coverage since the trial started, watching it on his phone behind a textbook in class, staying up late at night to watch the things he’d missed when his attention had been forced to turn to study.

No one knew he was doing it, not even May. She had picked up a stint of night shifts for a friend that was on maternity leave, so Peter was able to watch it on the couch when she was out.

He was pretty sure Tony wouldn’t approve of what he was doing, and May definitely wouldn’t, but Peter felt somewhat responsible for the trial happening and the risk it posed.

When he’d told Steve about the evidence, he’d thought it was obvious Bucky’s name would be cleared. However, now he’d seen the spin the prosecution put on it, the witness testimonies of people that had seen The Winter Soldier’s crimes, it seemed far more likely he’d be found guilty. The prosecution was just that compelling when she talked.

If Bucky ended up in jail, it would be in part down to Peter.

“I do not need to tell you again that James Barnes is a guilty man,” the woman Peter so disliked said. "You have seen and heard everything you need to know that. What I want to do is ask you to think of his victims when you pass the verdict and not be fooled by the story of programming given by the defense. You are each here to represent your country, your murdered countrymen, and you should each have their legacy in mind as you deliberate."

She took her seat again, and Peter muttered, "Bitch," under his breath, even though he was the only person in the apartment to hear.

Bucky's attorney, a man Peter was also impressed by, rose and began his statement.

“Ms. Benfleet is not wrong that there is guilt, but you know in your hearts that it is not Sergeant Barnes that is guilty. It is Hydra to blame. They took a good man, a patriot, an American hero, and made him their weapon. He is their victim as much as any of the deceased, but his suffering did not end with death.” He pointed back at Bucky, his eyes remaining fixed on the jury. “This man suffers still with what happened. He was not guilty of those crimes, but he remembers them and blames himself against all evidence of his innocence because he is a good man! When you find him not guilty, as justice decrees you must, you will not take away the sentence which has been set on his shoulders by Hydra. That sentence will last for life.” He clasped his hands as if in prayer. “I implore you not to add another life sentence when it would be the greatest miscarriage of justice the world has ever seen. Sergeant Barnes is an innocent man!”

The camera fixed on Bucky’s face, and Peter saw that, though his face was a mask, his eyes were sad.

He didn’t know Bucky well, had only seen him a few times since Christmas, but he really liked him. He seemed open with Peter in a way that he didn’t really understand. When Peter talked, Bucky really listened, and not in the I’m-analysing-you-and-searching-for-clues way Vision did when his eyes did that strange thing with their color changing. 

Peter liked them all, all the Avengers, but Rhodey, Steve, and Bucky seemed the most open to him, like they really cared.

Bucky was facing this whole thing, and Peter couldn't do a thing to help—perhaps he'd even hurt by giving Steve the evidence needed to make the trial happen.

The judge gave his instructions to the jury, and they filed out. Peter raked a hand over his face, his tired eyes itching. He flipped off the TV and threw back the blanket he had covered himself with. He glanced at the clock and saw he had a few hours until he needed to be awake to get ready for school, so he clambered to his feet and plodded into his bedroom to drop down onto the bed and yanked the covers over himself.

He would get some sleep and tomorrow watch the news again to await the verdict.

He flipped off the light with a fumbling hand and closed his eyes. 

“No,” he muttered to himself. “I’m not watching it on the news.”

A plan forming in his mind, he rolled over and grinned.

He wasn’t watching the verdict come in on the news. He was going to be there.

xXx

Tony climbed out of the car at the court steps, moved aside so Steve could follow, and then they started together towards the courthouse.

Barriers were lining the walkway with the public and media out in force. People called questions, and others asked for pictures or autographs. Tony thought it was distasteful that their presence here was being used for a chance to get a selfie or autographs when they were here to see an innocent man's fate being decided.

He was halfway to the door when he heard a familiar voice among the clamor, shouting, “Mr. Stark! Hey Mr. Stark!”

His head snapped around, and he saw a scuffle as someone forced their way through the photographers. Peter's flushed face appeared, his eyes wide, and Tony stared. He'd not expected to see him here. It was Friday, so Peter should be in school already.

He crossed over to him and said, “Kid, what are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t go to school!” Peter said breathily. “I needed to be here!”

“Pete, your aunt would want—” Tony started, but Steve cut him off.

“The hell with that. Queens has got as much right to be here as anyone.” To Tony’s astonishment, Steve grabbed Peter under the arms and hauled him over the barrier. Arm around his shoulders, Steve marched him towards the door and said, “He’s with us,” to the guard outside the door who looked like he wanted to argue. 

Chuckling and shaking his head, Tony followed them in and fell into step on Peter's other side.

Peter's eyes darted around as they passed along the halls, through the door to the public gallery of the courtroom. Steve sat him down in the front row, took a seat on his right, and nodded to Tony to take the other side.

Peter's eyes were still roving around, and then they widened when they fell on Bucky and T'Challa in their place at the defense table.

“Buck, look who’s here,” Steve said.

Bucky turned, brow furrowed, and his eyes widened when they fell on Peter, who gave him a smile and small wave. He smiled in return, his eyes softening with what Tony thought was relief, and then he turned back to the front.

The judge was announced, and they all rose to their feet, then sat down and waited as the court bailiff handed him a piece of paper. He read it and then said, “The jury are ready to return. Mr. Bailiff, please bring them in.”

Peter’s eyes followed the men and women as they filed in and took their seats, his breaths coming quick. “Is this good?” he whispered. “It’s not been very long. Is it good that they’ve decided already?”

“We don’t know yet, Queens,” Steve said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “But one way or another, Bucky is going to be fine.”

That was already decided. Their discussions had gone on long into the night, options suggested and declined, until it was agreed by all—excluding Bucky, who didn't want any of them breaking the law for him. They would rescue Bucky before he could be delivered to the Raft and hidden in Wakanda. Natasha was absent from court that day, busy preparing the team that would extract him.

The judge cleared his throat and said, “Will the jury foreperson please stand?”

A woman stood, hands clasped in front of her stomach.

“Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?” the judge asked, and Peter’s knee began bouncing.

Tony placed his hand on Peter’s leg and said, “Breathe, kid.”

Peter nodded, took a deep breath, and planted both hands on his knees to hold them down.

“Yes,” the woman said.

Tony's heart began to pound in his chest, and he fixed his eyes on Peter's face instead for a moment, hoping to calm himself with the presence of his son.

Peter's bottom lip was clamped between his teeth, and his legs were tremoring under his restraining hands. He looked up again as the clerk took the folded piece of paper from the woman and carried it to the judge who opened it, face unreadable, then set it down and said, “Would the jury foreperson please stand.”.

A woman in a neat blouse and skirt stood up and clasped her hands together in front of her stomach.”

“In the case of United States Vs James Barnes, does the jury find the defendant guilty or not guilty?”

The whole room seemed to be holding its breath, and Tony’s heart slammed against his ribs. There was a moment of absolute silence, and then the court broke out in cheers and shouts of protest as the spokeswoman said, “The jury finds the defendant not guilty.”

Tony closed his eyes, relief rushing through him, and leaned his cheek on Peter’s head. Peter was cheering, hands clapping so fast it was a blur, and Steve was matching him for enthusiasm as he whooped.

The judge dismissed the jury, making no attempt to quiet the room, and said, “Sergeant Barnes, you have been found not guilty. You’re free to go.”

Bucky nodded, ignored his attorney's extended hand to shake, and ran back, vaulted the barrier between him and them, and yanked Peter up into his arms so his feet dangled in the air.

Peter was laughing and cheering still, his voice constricted by Bucky’s tight grip, but his arms came around Bucky to return the hug.

Steve clapped Bucky on the back, said, “You’re free, Buck!” and Tony squeezed Bucky’s shoulder, but all Bucky’s attention was on Peter.

He released him, Peter landing neatly on his feet again, tousled his hair, and said, "This is all you, bud! You did this!"

“No,” Peter said, shaking his head jerkily. “I just—”

Bucky pressed a finger to his lips, then cupped his cheeks in his hands and said, "This, all of it, is down to you, and I swear I'll never forget it."

Peter looked bewildered—understandably, as he’d had only a small part in this that he knew of, but Bucky was not speaking to this version of Peter, not only him anyway. This was Bucky’s gratitude to Peter of 2023 and the kid in front of him now combined.

This was his joy, gratitude, and relief being given to the kid he loved.

xXx

The news anchor’s voice filled the room and made Zemo’s heart race.

“And this, viewers, is the moment the trial was won. If you see Sergeant Barnes as the words are used, you can see the moment the control is ripped away from him. Incidentally, the words, which we have translated as, ‘longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak, furnace, nine, benign, homecoming, one, freight car,’ had been deciphered as having meaning within Sergeant Barnes’ life. That is the evidence  in which the jury saw the truth of the defense’s case. Those words, which tortured Sergeant Barnes for decades, gave him his freedom. If you are just joining us now, this is the story that the verdict of not guilty has been passed in the case of USA versus James Barnes.”

Zemo clicked off the television and scowled down at his fisted hands, which were trembling slightly.

He had failed The Commander.

They had trusted him to use Barnes to feed them information, under his control, and he had not known the programming had failed.

Zemo did not know who it had happened, how the power of the controlling words had been removed, but it was certain. Barnes, as he was, should have reacted to the recitation, been compelled to reply, as the second Winter Soldier, the one under Zemo's control, was, but he had not.

Zemo had been fooled.

His phone trilled on the table, and he knew who it would be. With a shaking hand, he picked it up and answered, “Commander.”

"You failed us," The Commander said in a growl.

Zemo bowed his head. “I did. I apologize. I do not understand how the words’ power could have been removed.”

“We knew it was possible but did not expect it to happen. It is a complication, but Barnes wasn’t feeding us anything useful. We can assume they knew more than they told us, though.”

“Do I kill Barnes?” he asked.

“No, you cannot. His future is locked. However, we want him punished.”

“I can do that,” Zemo said eagerly. “We have Josef and Vostokoff.”

"Physical harm will not be a punishment for him. You are forgetting his history. He is a soldier that's used to pain. I think it is time to test your recruit’s technology.”

“The illusions?” Zemo said doubtfully. “How can they hurt him?”

"Did you not see him at the verdict announcement?" The Commander asked. "He went straight to the Asset when he won. There is a connection there. We were stupid to overlook it.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“We are going to come to Beck. He needs to see what we have seen.”

“What has he seen?” Zemo asked tentatively.

“The end of the world as it should have been—as it will be again.”

Zemo smiled, feeling no unease at the words. The Commander was wise and Zemo’s savior. If they said the end was coming, he knew it would be a beautiful end which he would celebrate.

“We want him to suffer,” The Commander went on. “To break. And we know exactly what to show him to do that. Perhaps he cannot die, but we can destroy his mind.” They chuckled. “Let him see how this will end. That is the most fitting punishment for what he did. And we will deny the Asset a supporting presence. They will all be lost without him; they will lose focus.”

“Yes, Commander,” Zemo said. “I will await your arrival.”

“Prepare Beck. We want his equipment ready to use as soon as we need it. You have a place where we can set the scene?”

"Yes, we have a base in New Jersey."

“Excellent.”

The call cut off without another word, and Zemo closed his eyes. The Commander was disappointed in him, which made his chest ache, but he thought he had a way to make amends.

Breaking Barnes appealed to him, and it was a way to serve Nemesis.

Nothing gave him more pleasure than to serve. 

Chapter Text

The moment Bucky walked into the living room of Tony's penthouse at the Tower, the room erupted with cheers and applause. A moment later, he was surrounded by Sam, Rhodey, Clint, and Wanda, who slapped him on the back, tousled his hair, hugged him, and Natasha kissed his cheek.

Bucky let the joy fill him, adding to the wonder he already felt, and enjoyed the closeness he felt with them all in that moment. 

When they had parted, Bucky caught sight of Vision standing by the couch, his eyes the shade of yellow which meant it was Mind. He nodded once and said, “Congratulations, Sergeant Barnes. Peter is waiting to see you whenever you are ready.”

With a nod of thanks, Bucky turned, intending to head back to the lab to fetch the BARF glasses, but a hand clamped down on his shoulder and Clint said, “That can wait, Barnes. We’ve got food coming, and Pepper’s bringing up some of Stark’s good champagne.” 

Bucky shook his head. “I’ll be back soon.”

Clint grumbled. “Damn, this kid has you all hooked.”

“And you don’t care about him at all?” Natasha asked. “You’re not the one quizzing me about him?”

Clint shrugged. “He’s a good kid, interesting, yeah, I like him, but I would not walk out on a party to go see him when we’ve got some of Stark’s ten-thousand-dollar-a-bottle champagne coming.”

Bucky shrugged. “You wouldn’t get it—you don’t really know him yet. I’ve got to go see him, though.”

Clint threw up his arms and said, “Fine. Go. Say hey to World-Savior version of Spider-Man for me.”

Bucky laughed and headed back into the elevator. He rode down to the eighty-third floor and hurried along the hall, grinning when the door beeped open before he reached it, and Friday said, “Feel free to go in, Sergeant Barnes. Mr. Stark was expecting this happenstance. What you require is on the bench.”

Bucky rushed in, expecting to need to search the mess on Tony's desk for the glasses, but he'd clearly tidied up. He'd also set a surprise, which Bucky was sure had amused him. There was a red bow around the glasses and a note which said, “Say hey to my kid as a free man.”

Chuckling softly, Bucky pulled off the ribbon, threw it onto the bench, and put on the glasses. The scene formed around him, the lake outside the Tool Shed where he’d spent some of his favorite times with Peter, and the person he longed for was perched on one of the rocks.

At Bucky’s appearance, Peter jumped off the rock and ran forward. Bucky didn’t even have a chance to get his arms around Peter before he was being lifted off his feet, just as he’d done to Peter in the courthouse.

He laughed, and his hands came around to embrace Peter as he was set down. “You did this, bud.”

Peter pulled back, his head whipping from side to side wildly. “No! Yeah, I found some of the evidence, but you were the one that sat in that courtroom and heard all the awful things people said about you and didn’t quit. You could have walked out on the first day and not returned. You could have gone back to hiding at the compound, and no one could have stopped you. But you didn’t! You went back, day after day, and faced it. This is your win, Bucky. Not a pardon, not a reward for fighting—the world knows you’re innocent now!”

Bucky stared at him, taking in the words, and considering them, seeing that they were true. More than once, he'd thought about refusing to go back, not putting himself in the position of hearing his crimes read out, the witnesses he'd left behind—which were few and far between and had mostly been the very young. He had kept going, though, facing the evidence and guilt, because he told himself he was doing it for Peter.

But perhaps it was for himself, too. 

And Peter was right: he was a free man now. He was innocent, judged by a fair jury. The pardon had been Ellis' in return for the things they'd done—and in large part in repayment for his return to office.

Bucky was innocent now for real.

He hugged Peter again, cradling the back of his head in his metal hand, and he said, "Maybe it wasn't all you, but you were a huge part of what gave me the strength to sit there every day." He pulled back and held Peter's face in his hands. "I love you, bud."

Peter blinked. “You’ve never said that before.”

“Did you ever doubt it?” Bucky asked, eyes troubled.

“No, not at all, it’s just you’ve never said it.”

Bucky sighed. "There's some things I find it hard to say, like they've got too much weight and risk. Not to me," he rushed on when Peter opened his mouth. "To the people I give the words to, like it can hurt them. I’ve not felt like a good man in a long time, bud, The Winter Soldier was always on my heels. I don’t feel that now, though, so it feels okay to say it—safe.” He stared into Peter’s eyes. “I love you, Peter.”

Peter beamed. “I love you, too. Really, Bucky, you’re one of the most important people in my world, and I trust you completely. That’s why I sent you to 2016, even though I knew it was going to be hard for you, because I trusted you. I knew Tony and Steve would do what was right for me, and I knew Natasha would work the mission for the world, but I trusted you to do both for me.” 

Bucky had sometimes wondered why Peter had sent him because he'd been in the most difficult position of them all in 2016. Mind had said Peter sent the people he thought he needed to 2016 and kept Rhodey in 2023 to take care of the people left behind. Now Bucky understood what it was that Peter had needed from him and no one else, when he could have taken Rhodey’s place in 2023, giving the people in 2016 an advantage with a person that was free to act.

Peter led him to the rocks, and they sat down, looking out at the lake.

“I can’t believe Tony sent me back to school,” Peter grumbled. “I’m so pissed  in 2017.”

Bucky chuckled. “I know, it’s not fair. But I think he’s more than a little scared of your aunt. Did you know she punched him?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “No! Wow, May.”

“She was angry,” Bucky said. “She had good reason. It was after the plane crash.”

Peter waved a hand. “Yeah, but that’s all over now. Things are good. We don’t have to hide from each other ever again.”

“I don’t have to hide from anyone now,” Bucky said. “Even in 2023, it’s not like we ventured out into society much. That’s all different now.” He grinned. “I can meet your aunt!”

Peter nodded eagerly. "Yes! You can! Oh, you'll love May. She’s awesome."

“You miss her a lot,” Bucky guessed.   

“I do, but I get to see her all the time now. It’s not just my time with you all that I see change. I get all those new memories with May. It’s a gift. It was great to see her in The Soul Plane, especially as Ben is there, too, but she’s alive now. We go to the movies. She takes me to get my hair cut and to buy clothes. We get to go out to dinner together. Thanks to Tony’s lessons, I can even cook a couple simple meals for her. It’s great.”

“Well, now I don’t have to hide in the compound all the time, me and you can pick up your cooking lessons again,” Bucky said.

“That’d be awesome,” Peter said.

Bucky grinned. “That’s decided then. Though we’re going to have to deal with Tony pouting about sharing.”

“He’s getting better about that, isn’t he?” Peter asked, head tilted to the side.

"He complains less," Bucky said with a laugh.

Peter smiled. "He'll be fine. For me, as I am there with you, I'm having the best time getting to know you all."

“And they’re loving it, too,” Bucky assured him. “It’s interesting for us—me, Tony, Steve, and Nat—who know you and what you’ll do, to see them getting to know you and wrap their heads around what’s coming.”

“And fifteen-year-old me is totally oblivious. I just think most of them are tolerating my presence for Tony. Not that I mind. Really, for me, seeing you all, is mind-blowing.” He looked out at the lake as a flock of geese splashed into the water. “How long do you have here?” he asked.

“As long as you do. I can stay until you get too tired.”

“No,” Peter said. “As much as I’d love that, you’ve probably got a party waiting for you there.”

"I do," Bucky said. "And Tony's planning to send Happy to come pick you up after school for what your aunt is going to think is an internship weekend stay.”

“He is?” Peter asked eagerly. “Awesome. That’ll be great. You better get back.”

“Not yet,” Bucky said reluctantly. “You won’t be here for a few hours yet.”

“No, but everyone else is already there. I’ll be fine. I’ll hang out with The Stones for a while.”

“With Power?”

Peter laughed. “I like him. Besides, I’m teaching them about life in the twenty-first century for a teenager—we’re on memes and Vines now.” Seeing Bucky’s doubtful look, he laughed and said, “What? It’s not like we can spend all our time discussing ultimate power and the threats we face. Sometimes we’ve got to chill.”

“And The Infinity Stones find that interesting?”

Peter nodded. “Soul and Power love it. Space and Reality are interested.” He laughed. “Time and Mind talk amongst themselves.”

Bucky laughed, wrapping an arm around Peter, and said, “That’s one crazy life you’ve got, bud.”

“And it’s a brand-new life you’ve got waiting for you now,” Peter said. “You’re free!”

"I am," Bucky agreed. "And in a few minutes, I'll go enjoy my party, but I want to just sit with you a little longer."

Peter rested his head against Bucky’s shoulder and said, “Okay, that’s fair.”

Bucky leaned his cheek on Peter’s hair and smiled. He would go back and enjoy what promised to be a great party, but he’d enjoy just a little time with Peter first.

Then he'd go back to the promise of the other Peter, who he was just now getting to know.

xXx

Peter was still a little grumpy about Tony sending him back to school, though his afternoon had been pretty exciting, finally being able to tell Ned about Bucky and how he knew him.

Ned’s mouth had gaped open the whole time Peter had been talking, with occasional interruptions of, “Dude!” and “That’s so cool!” coming from him.

At the end of the last class, Peter had gone outside to find Happy waiting for him, the front passenger side door propped open, answering Peter’s inquiries of what he was doing there with, “Tony says you’re invited to a party in the penthouse. Your aunt knows. Your overnight bag is in the trunk.”

Stomach fluttering with excitement, Peter had snapped on his seatbelt and then extolled on what he had seen in the court to a seemingly disinterested Happy.

“Yeah, great, kid,” he said, finally coming to a stop outside the Tower. "Now go play with the other superheroes."

Peter thanked him and climbed out, then grabbed his bag from the trunk before Happy drove away. It was still chilly, though Spring would be there soon, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets as he crossed the sidewalk and stepped through the revolving doors into the lobby.

He swiped his security card, waved to Juliet at the desk, then entered the elevator as the doors opened to meet him and Friday said, “Welcome back, Peter. Boss has asked me to take you straight up to the penthouse. He’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Friday,” Peter said.

He rode up, and the doors opened to Tony leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He stepped forward as Peter stepped out and guided him left with an arm around his shoulders.

Peter hadn’t gone this way before, as the kitchen and living room were to the right. He didn’t ask what was happening, though, knowing Tony would tell him in his own time.

Tony opened a door at the end of the hall and gestured Peter in. Peter entered what he guessed was the guest bedroom he'd be using. It had a bed as big as the one Peter had used in the compound, a bedside table, and a dresser, but it was otherwise bare apart from a blanket.

“This,” Tony said expansively, spreading his arms, “is your room—if you want it.”

“My— my room?” Peter asked, eyes wide.

“Yep. Now Bucky’s case is done, I’ll have a lot more time to spend here, and I was thinking we could make these overnight stays more of a regular thing. Sometimes we’ll be at the compound, since I’m not having that group of miscreants moving back into their rooms here long-term. Hell, me and Pepper need our space.”

Peter frowned. “If you need your space, what am I doing here?”

Tony waved a hand. “You’re not a problem, kid. Pep loves having you around. It’s them”—he thumbed towards the door—“that are the unwanted houseguests.” He gave Peter an expectant look. “But I thought maybe we could have a weekend here now and then, you, me, and Pepper, so we can put more time into the lab together without a curfew. Not that I’m letting you stay up all night. Don’t need you picking up my bad habits. But, yeah, we could have more time this way.”

Peter nodded eagerly. “Yeah! That’d be awesome, Mr. Stark. I don’t think May will mind, because she worries about me when she has to work the long shifts when I’m not in school.”

“That’s decided then,” Tony said, clapping his hands. “Which means you’ve got to decorate. This looks like a hotel room since no one I ever cared about stayed in here before. I want you to make it yours, though. I’ve set up an Amazon account for you on Friday—go nuts.”

“I can’t do that!” Peter said. “Really, it looks like I’ve already got everything I need in here.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Kid, you’ve got a bed, a bathroom, and a closet. You need to make this place comfortable.”

"I… uh… I've got a blanket, too," Peter said, pointing to the bed on which a navy blanket was folded, which looked so soft Peter wanted to go touch it now. It was a little strange, though, as there was nothing else in here apart from, just like in the room at the compound he'd used, that blanket. It seemed like something Tony had put there himself.

“Yeah, you’ve got a blanket,” Tony agreed, “but you need more—posters and toys and stuff.”

Peter quirked an eyebrow. “Toys? Mr. Stark, I’m fifteen.”

“Gaming consoles then,” Tony said. “Hell, kid, I don’t know what you need. Get whatever you want.” When Peter opened his mouth to protest, he said, “If you don’t, I’ll do it myself, and I'll be way more extravagant than you can possibly be. How do you feel about diamond encrusted alarm clocks?”

Peter laughed. “Okay, yeah, I mean no—you don’t need to do it for me. I’ll do some shopping later.”

He felt a little awkward about spending Tony’s money, but the idea that he could have his own space here, with things he’d chosen, was a good one. His bedroom at home had everything he could need, but a lot of it had been scavenged from thrift stores or gifts. There wasn't much in there that he'd chosen for himself from overwhelming options like Tony was offering him now.

“Great,” Tony said. “Now, let’s go join the party before they all pass out. I’m warning you, though, kid, that won’t take long since they’ve all been depleting my stock of ’37 Krug champagne for hours now.”

He led Peter out of the room, along the hall, and past the elevator into the living room, which was a chaos of people, champagne bottles, glasses, rowdy voices, and takeout boxes that looked like they came from far fancier places than where he and May ordered.

At their appearance, Clint, who had been downing the last drops of champagne from his glass, raised his hands and shouted, “Spider-Man has arrived!”

All eyes turned to him, and Peter met their welcoming smiles and greetings with his own.

“You hungry, Queens?” Steve asked, getting to his feet, and crossing the room to them.

"Think who you're talking to, Cap," Tony said. "Pete's always hungry. What do you feel like, kid? We've got leftover Italian in the fridge, which we can heat for you, or I can order something in. Bucky and Steve are probably ready for their next meal, too."

“I’ll eat anything,” Peter said.

Tony snorted. "That I already know. What I was asking was, what did you want?”

Steve fixed his eyes on Peter and said, “Thai? Pizza? Chinese? Oh, what about sushi?”

Tony laughed. “What's that, Mr. No, I Don't Eat Raw Fish? Have you maybe changed your mind?”

Peter grinned. “I think that was obvious after his fifteenth salmon roll, Mr. Stark.”

Tony tousled his hair. “True. But, come on, what are you in the mood for?”

Peter considered. “Do you have the stuff for grilled cheese? I can make that.”

Tony looked scandalized. "Are you seriously asking me if I have bread and cheese? What kind of ingrate pantry do you think I keep, kid? I’ve got about ten different kinds of cheese, including that gouda you like for your sandwiches. It’s all in the fridge. Go nuts.”

Peter went to the fridge and stared at the cheeses on offer as Steve called, “Buck, you want grilled cheese? Queens is making it.”

“Definitely,” Bucky said, climbing off the couch where he’d been talking to Natasha and coming to them.

“You need the provolone and Monterey Jack,” Steve said.

“What?” Bucky said. “Don’t mess with a classic, Steve. We just need American cheddar.”

Peter grinned. “How about a combination of the three?”

Bucky looked doubtful, though his eyes were shining with happiness, and Steve said, “Sounds like a fair compromise. Bucky, get the bread. I'll slice the cheese. You can get the pan hot, Queens."

Feeling warm and content, comfortable, Peter grabbed a skillet and put the burner on, turning when he felt eyes on him and saw Natasha and Tony watching, a fondness in both their eyes which he felt was hiding something more.

Not for the first time when with these people, Peter felt like he was missing something big. However, he felt no threat or discomfort in his lack of knowledge and even had a sense that he would understand one day.

Until then, he was going to just enjoy the place he was finding among them.

xXx

Tony laughed as he watched Clint and Peter try to explain Mario Kart to Vision, who seemed genuinely bewildered. He understood the mechanics, of course—he was partially Jarvis, who was among the most incredible tech Tony had ever created—but he seemed confused by the point of the game.

“It’s fun, Vis,” Clint said, slurring slightly, which was understandable as a large proportion of the dent in Tony’s champagne stocks was down to him. “It’s a race.”

Vision nodded. “I see that, and you enjoy it?”

Peter nodded eagerly. “It’s great. Really.”

Tony thought Vision was enjoying the experience of talking to Peter when he’d had so little opportunity before. Mind made frequent appearances when Peter was around, perhaps judging the difference in the person he’d declared Worthy in future to the kid he was now with none of that weight on his shoulders.

Tony could relate to that desire, but he knew Vision had been missing out with his frequent appearances. Vision was also having a chance to know Peter now compared to the rainbow-eyed version who he spoke to most of all.

“We’ll buy a console so you can try it out,” Clint said. “I’m the reigning champion at home.”

"When did that happen?" Natasha asked, eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Last time I visited, Cooper was the champion on the leader board, and you and Yoshi were under Laura."

Clint waved an unsteady hand. “Things change, Nat.”

"And you lie," Natasha said before turning back to Wanda, whom she had been talking to. 

“I’m adding the console to the cart right now, Pete,” Tony called to him.

Peter grinned. “You know, you’re losing because you’re playing Yoshi, Clint. If you want to win, you need Princess Peach.”

Clint scoffed. “Peach! She’s just a pretty face.”

Peter shrugged. “When I play as Princess Peach, I win.”

Clint leaned forward and held out a hand. “That sounds like a challenge, kid. You and me. Mario Kart tournament?”

Peter took his hand and grinned as he shook it. “I will enjoy kicking your green dinosaur ass, Mr. Hawkeye.”

Clint’s jaw worked, and Tony guessed he was struggling not to encourage the Mr. Hawkeye moniker again, even though he clearly loved it, as Natasha’s threat was real. 

Natasha smirked at him, eyes shining with mirth.

Bucky caught Peter’s attention again, asking whether he wanted anything else to eat, and Tony smiled. Bucky was happier today than he thought he had ever seen him, especially since Peter had arrived. Tony hadn’t realized before how much weight his former identity had on him, but now he was a free man, found innocent by a jury, he seemed genuinely free. Even in 2023, he didn't have that—he'd only had a pardon.

Pepper wrapped her arms around Tony from behind and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Did you show Peter his room?" she asked.

“Yeah,” Tony said, smiling widely. “And I think he’s actually going to use the Amazon account to decorate.”

“Good,” she said. “And I had an idea?”

Tony turned and wrapped his arms around her, pressing their foreheads together. “Yeah?”

“I think you need to make things right with May. If you get your way, Peter will be spending a lot of time here, and she should be a part of that. We can invite her over for dinner.”

Tony nodded. He did want things to be better with May. When he’d last seen her, discussing Spider-Man and his role in keeping Peter safe and reinforcing her rules, things had still been frosty between them.

He wanted to be closer to May this time so he could be in a better position to support her when Peter was gone. Though they didn’t know it, Peter only had one more year with his aunt, and when he came back, she would be gone.

Last time, he’d not been there for May the way he should have been after The Snap, but he would be this time. Losing Peter was going to devastate him, and he dreaded that day on a far-off planet when he would lose his son, but he would not let it break him this time. He was going to pull through with the strength Peter had shown in his suffering; he would have Morgan and Pepper and the promise of Peter’s return.

And he was going to be there for May. They shared a son now, and together, they would share his loss. But that was still over a year away, and Tony was going to make the most of what he had until then.

He was going to enjoy his son and the rest of his family.

Chapter Text

Tony was nervous as he sliced the vegetables, eyes darting to the clock on the wall as Peter and May’s arrival crept closer.

Pepper wrapped her arms around his back and rested her chin on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine, honey,” she said.

“You think?” he asked, slicing down and missing the carrot completely.

“Since when did you get so nervous about making dinner?”

“Since May Parker was invited.”

She tugged the knife out of his hand and turned him. Putting her arms around him, hands clasped behind his neck. She touched her lips to his and pulled back as he tried to deepen the kiss.

“Tony, what May cares about most of all is Peter. She doesn’t know how your relationship with him works, how you feel. When she sees you with him in your own home, how much you love him, she’ll understand. Believe me, no one doubts how much you love Peter when they see you with him, and she won’t either. You just have to be yourself.”

Tony sighed. “This is so important, Pep. I don’t want to mess it up.”

She looked into his eyes and said, “I don’t think you looked this scared when you were facing Aldrich Killian.”

“No, I was way more scared then, but I handled it better as I could fight back. I don’t think aiming a thruster at May is going to help me.”

She laughed and wrapped her arms tight around him. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, trust me.”

Tony hugged her closer for a moment, drawing in the scent of her perfume, and then pulled back and said, “I’ve got to finish the carrots.”

“You do,” she said. “I’m as eager for this meal as you are. I’ve seen what you can do, but never something you took inspiration for in a five-star restaurant.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Am I aiming too high? Should it be something simpler?”

“No. You were confident in what you were making, so I know you’ve made it before. Besides, May and Peter will just enjoy a well-cooked meal. You’ve heard how bad May’s cooking is, and Peter is still only learning the basics from you.”

“He is,” Tony agreed. “Yes, I can do this.”

He felt her confidence reach him, and he nodded briskly. He could handle this. He loved Peter so much that even May had to see it, even though she might not want to. This was his chance to show her who he was, how much Peter meant to him, that he would never hurt him like that again.

Pepper was right—he’d faced worse before.

He finished the carrots, put them in the steamer, and then opened the oven to check on the duck breast. It was sizzling and smelled great. All there was left to do was steam the vegetables and heat the orange sauce, which he had prepared earlier and was leaving to thicken now.

“I’ve got to change,” he said.

Pepper frowned. “You’re not dressing up too much, are you? Because I don’t think Peter and May will.”

“No, but I need a clean shirt. This one smells of engine oil.”

He dashed into the bedroom, pulled off his t-shirt, and went into the closet. He had rails of clothes for all occasions, and he always paid attention to what he was wearing as that had been drilled into him by his father when he was young—”People are always looking at us Starks, Tony, so you’ve got to look your best.”

He was going to look his best—his best Tony Stark comfortable in his own home. He took a Black Sabbath tour t-shirt from the rack and pulled it on then topped it with a white button-down. He got back into the kitchen in time to hear Pepper’s voice greeting May and Peter.

He rushed into the hall and saw Peter and May coming in. May was wearing a blue dress that floated around her knees and made her look quite different from the jeans and scrubs he'd seen her wear before. Peter was wearing his customary jeans and hoodie, and he looked as nervous as Tony felt.

"Hello, May," Tony said, moving forward and holding out a hand, which she shook.

“Hello, Tony,” she said, her voice soft and friendly, though her eyes were unreadable.

Tony tousled Peter’s hair and said, “Hey, kid.”

Peter smiled at him, “Hey, Mr. Stark. Something smells good.”

“Duck a l’Orange and steamed spring veg,” he said.

“Sounds lovely,” May said. 

Peter nodded eagerly.

“Would you like a tour, May?” Pepper asked.

“I’d love that,” May said.

Pepper looped her arm through May's, and they wandered into the living room.

Peter watched them go and breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Relax, kid,” Tony said. “Pepper can charm anyone.”

“Totally,” Peter said. “It’s May I’m worried about. Steve said she hit you. I don’t want her to be rude or anything. I don’t think she will, but, you know, May can be volatile sometimes—it’s the Italian in her.”

“I’ve got a share of Italian blood, too, so I can handle it. Think of this evening as a second chance for me to charm her.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you should try to charm May.”

“No? Then I’ll just be myself. This is as important to me as it is to you, kid. I’m going to do my best to make it work.”

Peter sighed. “Yeah, I know, I’m being paranoid. It’s not you I’m worried about, not really. I just want her to behave.”

Pepper and May’s voices drifted back towards them, and Tony placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “We’re going to make this work.”

Pepper and May came in, and May was now smiling.

“You have a beautiful home,” she said. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of the view. It’s really quite something.”

“You don’t get sick of it,” Tony assured her. “We know how lucky we are here.”

He was well aware of the luck in his life. He’d never scratched for money at all. He’d grown up in a luxurious home, never gone without any material thing. May and Peter had enough money to get by, but that was all. If they’d accept it, Tony would shower them with money until May never needed to work a day in her life, but they never would. Peter’s hesitation over the Amazon account to decorate his room was proof of that. Everything that had been ordered had come at Tony’s encouragement and pushing.

It was working, though. Peter’s room was starting to show signs of his personality.

“Would you like a glass of wine, May?” Pepper asked.

“I’d love one,” May said. “We came on the subway for a reason.”

“We’ll get you a car home,” Tony said. “We’ve got drivers on standby.”

“There’s really no need,” May said. “Peter and I are fine on the subway.”

Tony nodded, deciding not to push the topic. “Pete, get your aunt a glass of wine,” he said. “Then you can help me in the kitchen while she and Pepper relax.”

Peter nodded eagerly and went to the wine fridge and surveyed the many bottles on offer.

“You want the Beaujolais Nouveau,” Tony said.

Peter examined the labels and then took out the correct bottle. Tony handed him the corkscrew, which he examined for a moment, then muttered, "May's wine usually has a twist-off cap."

Tony smiled. “Then I am about to teach you a valuable life skill.”

With Peter’s eager eyes on him, Tony demonstrated how to uncork the wine, glancing back when he felt eyes on him and saw both May and Pepper watching with fond smiles on their faces.

He felt like it was going okay.

xXx

The food was a success, and Tony had relaxed after a couple glasses of wine.

Pepper and May chatted comfortably, like they were old friends, and Peter seemed much happier.

May had been perfectly friendly to Tony, had complimented the food, which had turned out well, and been delighted by the cheesecake Tony had ordered from Kikki’s for dessert.

When the food was finished, Pepper and Peter loaded the dishwasher, and Tony was left alone with May at the floor to ceiling window, looking out over the city.

Tony fumbled for a topic to talk about and ventured, "Peter is much more confident with his patrols lately, after the incident."

“I hear that’s thanks to you. He said you spent a month staying connected to his suit while he patrolled.”

“I did. He was anxious about it after what happened.”

She smiled. “That must have taken a lot of time out of your day. Too much?”

Tony shook his head. “No, there is no too much when it comes to Peter.”

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

“I do,” Tony said, allowing his sincerity to fill his voice. “I feel like I’ve known Peter a lot longer than it’s actually been, and I can see what a great kid he is.” He met her eyes. “Peter is very important to me.”

She stared at him a moment, then said, "Yes, I see that. And Peter loves you. He talks about you all the time. And it's not just the things you're teaching him. As excited as he was that you introduced him to The Avengers, it's you that I hear about most of all."

Tony beamed. He knew how attached Peter was to the others already—and how attached to him they were in return—and to know it was him that Peter talked about most of all meant a lot to him.

"It's hard for me," May went on. "Ben and I took Peter in when he was four years old, and it was just us for the longest time. We were a solid unit—didn't need anything but each other. And then Ben died, and it was just me and Peter left, and I think I clung to him even harder because of what we lost." She frowned, staring out at the city. "I didn't want to share him with anyone, but I do share him now, and that’s been hard for me to accept. But…” she met his eyes, “I can’t think of anyone better to share him with now that I've seen you together properly. He’s so comfortable here, like it’s his own home, which means you’ve made him feel that way. That’s special, Tony.”

“I love him,” he said, venturing the admission at last.

"I know," she said. "I can see it when you're with him." She laughed and shook her head. "I never thought I'd have a superhero for a nephew, let alone that I'd be co-parenting him with Iron Man, but it seems that's what happened."

Tony felt warmth rush through him at the word—co-parenting, what he dreamed of—and he said, "I won't let him or you down—never again. I'm going to be there for Peter, no matter what he needs."

“I know,” she said again. “This is hard for me to admit, because I love Peter so much and it’s hard to talk about Ben still, but I think Ben would be happy, too. He admired you even before Iron Man. When you shut down your weapons development, Ben was so… he was proud. And then there was that press conference, your admission that Iron Man was you, not some bodyguard, and he thought you were amazing. He and Peter shared their love of Iron Man between them.”

“I wish I could have known Ben,” Tony said. “He sounds like a great man. I didn’t have a chance, but I can tell you this—I won’t try to take your place or Ben’s in Peter’s life, but I will always do and be the best for him. Seriously, if there’s anything I can do for him—or you—you just have to ask.”

She stared into his eyes, making him feel like she was looking right into his soul, and then said, “Thank you, Tony.”

Peter and Pepper came out of the kitchen, both smiling, and Peter said, “May, do you want to see my room? Mr. Stark let me buy some stuff for it.”

“Let? It took much persuasion and a few threats to get you to pick stuff out,” Tony said with a grin.

“I can imagine,” May said. “Yes, I’d love to see your room, sweetie.”

Peter took her hand and, chattering enthusiastically, led her out of the room.

Pepper came to Tony's side and said, "You okay?"

"I am," Tony said, peaceful and happy now. "I think it's going to be okay. I mean, she knows how much I care about Pete." He shook his head, smiling fondly. "She said something about co-parenting with me."

Pepper beamed. “Well, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing, so it’s good that she accepts it now. It went well, Tony. Relax. Things are going to work out.”

Tony pulled her into his arms and hugged her. With her confident words in his mind, mulling them over, he allowed himself to just feel happiness. There were things to think about, worries of what was coming, but he wasn’t going to allow them space in his head now.

He was happy in the life and time he had now. 

Chapter Text

45. Illusion Attack

Bucky and Steve were playing Crazy Eights, one of the games they used to play before either of them had gone to war. They were evenly matched, and the game was turning into a good time.

Bucky was content. This was the first full week of his life as a officially classified innocent man. He’d gone jogging with Steve in Central Park, which they'd followed with breakfast at Sal's in Brooklyn, which was one of the few remaining pieces of their life pre-war together.

It was run now by the granddaughter of the man that had run it when Bucky and Steve had frequented it before, and she’d been a bit giddy when Captain America and Sergeant Barnes had walked through her door. She had congratulated Bucky on his freedom and said her grandfather used to talk about him and Steve, how he’d known them before they were famous with the Howling Commandos. 

Luckily for Bucky, he had died in the nineties so had never seen Bucky outed as The Winter Soldier and his reputation trashed. Instead, she had told him fond stories and memories her grandfather had shared about Bucky’s huge breakfasts and Steve’s liking for pancakes with extra butter.

They’d settled at a table—the old booths they remembered having been replaced over the years they’d been gone—and enjoyed a breakfast which was as good it had been in the old days.

Steve had paid, leaving a generous tip, which made Bucky think of money. He wasn’t sure what he could do to earn it, but he wasn’t going to rely on Tony for cash. He was his own man and needed to stand on his own two feet now. One thing he was not going to do was sell his story to the newspapers as he had been invited to do from four different outlets already, according to Pepper.

They drove back to the Tower and headed down to the gym to work out a while before coming up to begin their game.

Though everyone else had moved back to the compound, Bucky was pleased to be out of it for a while. He’d missed his chance to see Peter the night before when he and May came for dinner with Tony and Pepper, but he understood that it was important for Tony to face May alone. Tony had been a nervous wreck when they’d left him pulling ingredients for dinner out of the refrigerator, and Bucky hadn’t seen him since to ask how it had gone.

He had heard from Peter, though. He’d texted him that morning before school, just a cheerful good morning with—as always—too many emojis. Bucky had replied in kind, a warm feeling in his chest at the contact.

They heard the elevator door open, and a moment later, Tony strode into the room.

“Poker?” he asked. “Great. Deal me in.”

“It’s Crazy Eights,” Steve said. “Do you still want to play?”

Tony made a face. “Um, no, because I’ve no idea what the game is. Let me guess, it’s some kind of centenarian game that only the defrosted know.”

Steve scowled, but Bucky laughed.

“Yeah, it’s a game that showed up back in the day,” he said. “But the rules are simple enough.”

“I’ll pass,” Tony said, waving a hand.

Steve laid his cards down and asked, “How did dinner with May and Peter go?”

Tony’s face transformed with a smile. “It was great. Yeah, I know May still has her reservations about me, but she said something about co-parenting with me, which I think is good.”

“It’s great, Tony!” Steve said, smiling widely. “She’s accepting your place in his life.”

Tony nodded. “It seems like it. She said co-parenting a superhero, so it might just be a mentor thing. Either way. I’m calling it a win.”

“How was Peter?” Bucky asked.

"Nervous as hell when they arrived. I think he was worried about what May would say. But he relaxed over time, showed her around his room, and showed her the stuff we’d bought for it. I think that was part of what swung it for me with May. She sees he’s happy here, that he has another home whenever he needs it.”

“That’s exactly what he has here, a home,” Steve said seriously.

Tony smiled again, his eyes distant, perhaps thinking of his son. “He does. Whenever he wants it.” His eyes focused again, and his smile grew. “You should have seen Peter and Pepper last night. She loves him. She never had that chance before, because she was always protecting Morgan, but now…” He spread his arms. “She’s free to love him.”

Steve nodded. Though Pepper was an amazing woman, and she did love Peter in 2023, that was not wholly because of who he was but also because of his place with the rest of her family. Loving Peter came with pain sometimes, pain Tony and Morgan felt, and Pepper wanted to defend her daughter from that, which meant she was more reserved with Peter.

Now, though, she could get to know him and love him for who he was without needing to defend anyone else that she loved.

“Who wants coffee?” Tony asked, turning towards the kitchen, then turning back with eyes wide as a phone rang. “That’s the Zemo phone, right?”

Bucky nodded, taking a breath. He’d not heard from Zemo since the trial started, when he'd called for an update, and Bucky had sold the trial as reinforcement of his connection with The Avengers. Zemo had been pleased, and Bucky had relaxed a little from his fear that the trial was going to destroy it all.

“Friday, track it,” Tony said, though there was no hope in his tone that they would find the real source.

Bucky answered with a careful greeting, and Zemo’s voice came loud and calm. “Soldier, comply.”

“Ready to comply,” Bucky said.

“Congratulations on your newly acquired freedom.”

Bucky caught Steve's eye and nodded. Steve could hear both sides of this call, and he seemed pleased by what he was hearing. "Thank you. I am now better able to serve."

“That is what The Commander thought,” Zemo said. “They are pleased. They feel you are finally ready to meet them.”

Steve's eyes bugged, and he mouthed, “You’ve got it, Bucky.”

“I would like that,” Bucky said. “What do I need to do?”

“I am going to text you an address. Now you have your freedom, you can tell The Avengers you want to explore it. Be prepared to stay two days at least.”

Bucky’s heart skipped. If he was staying two days, he was getting more than just a meeting. Were they about to give him actual valuable information on their plan? This could be it—their way to save Peter.  

“I can stay as long as The Commander requires,” Bucky said, his tone neutral despite his racing heart.

“Come tonight. Nine o’clock. They will be ready for you.”

“I will come. I will comply.”

“Very good, Soldier.”

Bucky lowered the phone as the call cut, and his wide eyes snapped between Steve and Tony. "I'm going to meet them," he said. "Zemo used the plural pronouns for the 'commander.' That's got to be Nemesis."

He ran a shaking hand through his hair as his phone beeped with a text. He checked it and saw it was an address in New Jersey.

He handed the phone to Tony, who read it out and said, "What's here, Friday?"

“It’s a warehouse in the former port district of Ashton, New Jersey,” she replied. “I can see no surveillance of the area as all cameras within a three-mile radius have been disabled.”

“Broken?” Tony asked.

“No, their feed has been replaced with stock footage of a cornfield. I think you can assume that whoever has the technical know-how to source a phone call to your cell also has the technology to divert surveillance feeds to themselves only.”

“Can you break it?”

“I am not sure,” she said. “They have shown to be difficult opponents before. I still cannot find the real source of the calls. I will try, though.”

“Good girl,” Tony said with a nod. “Okay, Bucky, if they’re tracking within three miles, we can’t get too close to back you up, so—”

Bucky held up a hand. “I don’t need backup.”

Steve’s eyebrows contracted. “If you’re going against Nemesis, you do.”

“I’m not at risk,” Bucky said. “I will be alive in 2023. Yeah, I’ve got a year left now before The Snap, but I will be okay. Besides, Nemesis isn't going to attack me when they can use me.”

“I’d still feel better if we were close,” Steve said.

“Three miles,” Tony said. “We won’t be openly suited up, but I’ll have the nanite suit on standby, since that’s due a test drive. I think Bucky is right, though. He’s safe.”

“Even if I’m not,” Bucky said with a shrug. “None of us can fight Nemesis.”

Steve scowled and shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of you going in alone.”

“This is what we’ve been waiting for, Steve. I’m meeting Nemesis. We’ll have final proof it’s Ross, and I might hear what they’re planning. We’ve been here almost a year, and we still don’t know what they’re going to do to Peter. This is my chance to find out!”

Steve sighed. “Yeah, I know. Damn. I don’t like it, though, sending you in alone.”

“Me either,” Tony said. “Not really. But this is what we need.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Sure, I’m helpless against Nemesis, but I’m a match for whatever else they throw at me. And I will be alive in 2023!”

“Yeah, true, but I’ve got a bad feeling,” Steve said, brow furrowed.

Bucky understood his worry, as he'd feel the same if it was Steve going alone, but for himself, he was excited. He might get real information soon, things that could help them, protect Peter.

If they knew enough, they could protect him from whatever Nemesis was going to do.

He might be able to save Peter from it all.

xXx

Bucky was ready. He rode Steve’s motorcycle to the location alone, leaving the Tower an hour after Steve, Tony, and Natasha, who had positioned themselves just outside a three-mile vicinity of the warehouse.

He knew he didn't need them there. He was more than a match for anyone apart from Nemesis, and whatever they did, he'd be alive when it mattered, which meant he would live through this.

He was sure Zemo didn’t suspect him, which had been his worst fear of the trial. If they had suspected him, he would have been taken down long ago. They wouldn’t have allowed him to leave the courthouse after the verdict. With Nemesis’ power, equal to Peter’s in some ways, he would have been taken out and punished for what he did.

He was safe, and he was finally going to find out what they were planning.

When he arrived in the old port district, he parked the bike two blocks from where he was supposed to go and set out on foot. He didn’t want any sign to an outsider that he was there.

The place he was looking for was among a group of very rundown buildings with graffitied walls and padlocked doors. The door he needed wasn't padlocked, though, and he formed his face into the Winter Soldier mask before he knocked, and entered.

The room he entered was vast, with a high ceiling and bolts still in the floor which would have held down machinery before.

He scanned the room, seeing strange shapes against the walls, what he thought were cameras, and he wondered what their use was; perhaps Nemesis’ tech genius was recording the whole thing, though why they would need so many cameras, Bucky had no idea.

He moved to the center of the room and said, “Ready to comply.”

“Wrong,” a voice replied.

It was Zemo, but it seemed to come from all sides. Bucky's eyes roved and found small speakers set into the ceiling.

“You are not ready to comply,” Zemo went on. “You are not under our control. You are a truly free man—or you were. Now!”

Knowing he was screwed, that his cover was blown, and that he was going to learn nothing, Bucky tapped his finger to the panic button on the watch Tony had equipped him with and ran for the door, but the door disappeared.

Green light rippled over the room, and Bucky was transported into a nightmare he’d had many times before. 

He was surrounded by chaos on all sides. Chitauri, Outriders, The Black Order, fought Avengers, Allies, and T’Challa’s people. Leviathans flew overhead.

Bucky went unnoticed by them all for a moment, and then he felt something collide with his back and teeth snapped at his right ear. He rolled forward, knocking the attacker off, and jumped to his feet. He grabbed a spear from the ground, which had been dropped by one of the Dora Milaje who lay dead with her hand extended, and he stabbed the Outrider in the head. It screamed and dropped, writhing and then stilling—dead.

Bucky’s mind was reeling, trying to make sense of what had happened, though he had a fear he knew.

The green light had hit before he arrived here, and green light from Peter meant the Time Stone. Peter would never have dropped him back in the battle, never, but Nemesis would. Perhaps this was their punishment for him deceiving them.

As he stabbed at a Chitauri which was racing towards him, a horrifying thought occurred to him.

What if they had all been dragged back to 2023?

Was Peter defenseless in 2017?

Was he Worthy?

“Peter!” he bellowed. “Peter, where are you?”

Stabbing indiscriminately at the monsters around him, he raced forward, shouting for Peter. He could not let him snap. He might not be ready. Bucky was going to refuse what The Stones said was fate and protect the kid he loved.

“Peter!” he screamed, something tearing in his throat. “Peter!”

And then he saw him. Peter was in a trench, the gauntlet clutched to his chest, and then someone came—Carol Danvers appeared in front of him.

“No, Peter!” Bucky bellowed. “Don’t!”

He was too far away, and Peter showed no signs that he could hear him over the chaos of the battle. He sprinted toward him, shoving past allies and enemies alike, screaming for Peter to stop.

He was finally heard, Peter turned to him, and Bucky held out his hands. “Give it to me!”

Peter frowned, pale and bloody face filled with confusion.

“Please!” Bucky said. “I’m the only one that can!”

Peter hesitated, pulling the gauntlet closer to his chest, and then, with tears in his eyes, he held it out.

Bucky snatched it from him, the sounds and movements of battle now a blur around him. He looked Peter in the eye, said, “Thank you, Bud,” and then slid the gauntlet onto his metal arm.

He took a breath, fixed his eyes on the kid he loved, and snapped.

Nothing happened.

"No!" he whispered, and then screamed, "No!"

Peter’s wet eyes fixed on Bucky, and he said, "I'm sorry," as he reached for the gauntlet. 

Bucky pulled it back against his chest, but Peter was stronger. He pulled it off Bucky’s arm and slid it onto his own.

“No, Peter!” he shouted, heart racing and pain flooding him. “You’ll die! We didn’t do enough!”

Without another word but a steely look of determination on his face, Peter raised his hand and snapped.

Bucky was frozen, watching in horror as the light spread up Peter’s arm, across his chest, the suit fracturing and burning. He came back to life as Peter’s legs buckled, catching him and holding him against his chest.

“Worthy,” he whispered. “You’re Worthy, Peter. You have to be Worthy. Mind! Power! All of you! He’s Worthy! You hear me?”

Peter’s head lolled back over Bucky’s arm, a whimper of pain leaving him, and then he stilled, his eyes, brown and unseeing, open. 

Bucky shook him, pleading with him to talk, to move, to live, as the enemies around them drifted into dust.

“No,” he whispered. “You can’t be. Please.”

But it was no good. He was gone.

Bucky pulled Peter’s body against his chest, buried his face in Peter’s tangled hair, and howled his pain to the air.

Chapter Text

Steve yanked open the door to the warehouse and threw himself inside, Tony on his heels. The moment Tony entered, the air blew out of him in a rush, and a scream built on the inhale.

He had been here before, he had nightmares about this place, and the howls of pain he heard felt like they were being ripped from his own chest, though his mouth was frozen silent in horror.

Surrounding him was the aftermath of battle, the bodies of the fallen and the dust of the enemies still drifting on the air. At the center of the ruin was Bucky, and cradled in his arms was Peter.

Tony sprinted forwards, ignoring all else, and dropped down to his knees. Peter’s eyes were open, and that gave Tony a momentary hope, despite Bucky’s devastation rending the air. Then he took them in, the brown irises which stared into nothing, and he did scream.

“No! No, no, no, please! No! Give me my son!”

He yanked at Peter, but Bucky’s grip around him was too strong. He struck out, slamming his fists into Bucky’s jaw, cheek, tore at his hair, but he was immovable.  

Someone dragged him back, and he struggled. Steve spoke in his ear. “It’s not real, Tony! It can’t be!” His voice broke. “He’s not dead. It’s too soon.”

Tony’s eyes widened, and he stared around. It looked real, felt real, but it was too soon. Peter wouldn’t have taken them back already. They had not done enough. Which meant someone was doing this to him.

“In here,” Natasha shouted.

Tony turned his face away from the illusion of Peter’s body, denying the possibility of it, and followed Natasha’s voice through a door into a room with a bank of computers displaying the scene in the room behind.

Someone had been here recently, there were dirty coffee mugs on the desk and take-out wrappers, but they were gone now.

Natasha’s fingers were flying over a keyboard, and she snapped, “Help me, Tony! I can’t find a way to shut it down.”

“Get back,” Tony snapped, raising his right thruster.

She obeyed, and he shot a blast into the boxy hard drive. The screens went black, and he heard Steve’s voice from the room behind.

“It’s over, Buck. It wasn’t real. Peter is fine. Look at me!”

Tony rushed back into the room and saw Bucky was still on the floor, his arms held as if he was cradling something, but the body he’d held was gone.

So was the life in Bucky’s eyes.

“Buck, look at me!” Steve said urgently, touching his face, where the bruises Tony had caused were blossoming. “Peter is okay. He’s alive. It wasn’t real.”

Tony strode forwards and hauled Bucky to his feet. Bucky’s hands fell limp to his sides, and his eyes stared as blankly as the illusion of Peter’s had.

“We’ve got a lot of tech in here,” Natasha said.

Tony glanced around and saw precisely positioned drones around the walls—the ones that had created the illusion that had horrified Tony and apparently broken Bucky.

“Gather it up,” Tony said. “Call in the recovery team. I want it all.”

“Got it,” she said curtly.

Tony turned his attention back to Bucky, who Steve was trying to rouse with rough movements. Tony was chilled to see him like this, as he had seen it before.

In Peter.

What Bucky had seen had caused him so much pain he’d closed himself down rather than face it. Tony could relate; he’d felt the same desire as he’d seen the illusion of Peter’s body. He knew it wasn’t real, though. It was a twisted trick Nemesis had played on Bucky.

Because they’d screwed up.

Tony didn’t know how they’d worked out Bucky was not their man anymore. Perhaps they knew he never had been. He suspected it was something from the trial, though.

Bucky had known, he'd not wanted to do it, but they'd railroaded him into it—Peter had wanted it. And now, Bucky was in some kind of inner hell, if he was not lucky enough to have closed himself down as thoroughly as Peter had.

"Go easy, Steve," he said as Steve shook Bucky roughly. "Let's get him out of here."

Steve dropped his hands from Bucky’s shoulders and brought them to tangle in his hair.

"What did they do to him?" he asked. "No, I mean, I know what they did. They tortured him, but how?"

“It’s illusion tech,” Tony said. “And I think I know who did it now.”

“Who?” Steve asked.

"A man called Beck. He used to work for me. He had a part in creating the BARF system. He wanted to weaponize it. When I refused, he went nuts. I sacked him, had him escorted out of the building, but…." He raked a hand over his face. "He did this with something I created, Steve."

He felt horrible for what had happened to Bucky, and he was furious with himself for not thinking of Beck sooner. He was a tech genius who could have easily been the one that sourced Zemo’s calls to Tony.

And he could have done worse still. He had been one of the brightest minds at Stark Industries. Tony needed to have Friday scour the system within the Tower and compound. Beck could have laid traps. As good as Friday was, he might even be capable of getting past her.

God, Nemesis could know about Bucky because Beck had hacked the tower system and listened to their conversations. It was possible, though he hated to think of it. If he had, Nemesis would know everything they knew, what they were planning, and she could have seen their conversations with Mind.  

Tony slapped the arc reactor on his chest and the nanites shrunk back into their housing. Hands his own again, he held Bucky’s elbow and guided him towards the door.

Just like Peter once had, Bucky moved under his direction but with no sign of awareness. He hated the sight of him, stiff and blank, and averted his eyes to the door. Steve took the lead, opened it for them, and then hurried to the car to open the door.

Tony guided Bucky into the back seat, lifted his feet to put them inside, and then snapped on his seatbelt while Bucky’s limp hands fell into his lap.

“I’ll drive,” he said. “You stay with him. I’ll send a car for Nat. She can take care of clean up.”

Steve nodded and rushed around to the other side of the car to get in beside Bucky. Tony got in behind the wheel and started the drive back to the Tower, Steve’s voice as he alternately ordered and begged Bucky to come back became the soundtrack from the back seat.

xXx

Steve’s panic did not ease over time. In fact, it grew as Bucky was showing no signs of coming back to them, despite Steve’s demands and pleading.

They got him back to the Tower and settled him in the living room, where a horrified Pepper found them when she came to say goodnight.

Tony explained what had happened in brief sentences, not sharing the actual horror of Peter’s dead body in Bucky’s arms, but instilling in her the seriousness of what had happened, as if that could be in question when you looked at Bucky’s blank face.

She suggested they get the med-team to check him out, but Tony dismissed it, saying they had seen this before and knew what to do.

It was what they needed to do that was worrying Steve now, because, if Bucky was like Peter, they needed the right person to reach him and make him come back.

And if the right person was not Steve, there was only one person left that it could be.

Steve saw the same knowledge on Tony’s face, but, like Steve, he was loath to admit it. Neither of them wanted Peter to see Bucky like this. He would be scared, worried, and he was still so young. This was not the Peter they knew best who could have handled it.

Tony squatted in front of Bucky and ground his knuckles into Bucky’s sternum.

“I already tried that,” Steve said. “He’s not coming out of it because of pain.”

“Then how do you get him back?” Pepper asked. “You said you’d seen this before, so how do you fix it?”

She sounded as distressed as she looked. Even for Tony and Steve, who had seen this before, it was a chilling sight.

Tony stood up and ran a hand through his hair. “This happened to Peter in 2023. Something… horrific happened to him, and the only way we could get him back was by letting—” He stopped, grimacing.

“By letting… what?” Pepper asked. “Talk to me, Tony.”

“There was someone Peter cared about in 2023,” Tony said. “Someone he loved. When he heard their voice, he started coming back. We were able to bring him all the way back with Wanda, as he was fighting it.”

“We don’t need her this time,” Steve said, voice low. “Peter will be enough.”

Tony raised his face to the ceiling and squeezed his eyes closed. “He will. Damn.”

“You mean bring Peter here?” Pepper asked. “Tony, he can’t see Bucky like this. He’ll be scared. It’s not fair.”

"I know," Tony said, meeting her eye. "But it's Peter we need. We can't connect to Bucky with BARF as he can't engage in the simulation while he's shut down. So it's the Peter we've got here or nothing at all."

Pepper bit her lip, eyes moving between Bucky’s blank face and Tony’s obvious pain.

“I hate this, too, Pepper,” Steve said. “But Peter, the one we’ve got now and the version in 2023, would want to do this for Bucky.”

She nodded stiffly but didn’t speak.

“Tell me to do it, Pep,” Tony said, voice choked. “Tell me it’s okay. Because this is tearing me apart. I don’t want to hurt my son by making him a part of this, but I can’t see we’ve got any other choice.  I’ve seen how this goes, I saw my kid go through it, and I know Peter would do anything to save Bucky from what he went through.”

Pepper stared at him a moment and then sighed. "It's okay, Tony. You're right—Peter would want to help him, any version from any time. So you should do it."

Tony kissed her quickly, leaned close to Bucky, and said, "I'm getting him, Bucky. He'll be here soon. We know who you need," and then rushed out of the room. They heard the elevator doors open and then slide closed as he left.

Steve bowed his head and just processed the thought of what they were about to do to Peter for a moment, then looked up and put his hand on Bucky’s slack cheek. “Queens is coming, Buck. He’s going to get you back. Just hang on.”

Pepper walked away without a word, leaving Steve alone with his broken friend and waiting for the arrival of the person that would save him.

xXx

The knocking on the door woke Peter, and he checked the clock and saw it was near midnight. He’d not been sleeping long, indulging in a patrol without curfew as May was on the night shift. He climbed out of bed and passed through the apartment to the door as the knock came again, more urgent now.

He checked the spy hole and saw a harried-looking Tony on the other side.

Worry swimming in his chest, he yanked open the door. “Mr. Stark! What’s going on? Has something happened?”

Tony placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders and said, “I need you. I hate that I need you for this, I’d protect you from it if I could, but I’ve got no choice.”

Peter’s throat tightened. “Is someone hurt? Is it May? Oh, god…”

“No!” Tony said roughly. “No, May is fine. I’m sorry. It’s not her. And they're not hurt. Not in the way you're thinking. It's Bucky. Something's happened to him, and I think you're the only person that can fix it."

Calming slightly now he knew May was okay, Peter took a breath and said, “I’ll get dressed.”

Tony sagged with a sigh of relief and followed Peter inside. He dropped onto the couch, head in his hands, and Peter raced into the bedroom and yanked jeans and a hoodie over the boxers and t-shirt he'd been sleeping in. He stuffed his feet into his sneakers, not bothering with socks, and rushed back into the living room.

“I’m ready,” he said.

Tony looked at him a moment, lips parted and eyes sad, and then he stood and said, “Let’s go.”

He led Peter down to the car, the fancy one Peter had ridden in before, and Peter climbed in and snapped on his seatbelt. Tony climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine, which roared.

They pulled away from the sidewalk, and Peter let Tony get them out of the maze of Queens before saying, "What's happened to Bucky?"

“He saw something… something awful,” Tony said. “I can’t… I can’t talk about it. It was bad, though, worse than bad—Pete, it was horrific.”

Peter swallowed hard. “But he’s not hurt?”

“Well, he’s got a few bruises, but they’re down to me trying to wake him up. He’s catatonic, Pete, completely shut down.”

Peter licked his dry lips as his heart picked up its pace. “What can I do for him?” he asked.

Tony gave his head a slight shake, as if in answer to something, then said, "We just need you to talk to him. We think if he hears your voice, he'll snap out of it. We've seen it happen before with the right person."

“I’m the right person?” Peter asked, bewildered.

“You are,” Tony said, no doubt in his tone. “You won’t understand yet, but you will one day. This is going to be tough, Pete, I know, and I wouldn’t ask if we had any other choice, but it’s got to be you.”

“What if it’s not me?” Peter asked. “What if I do it wrong.”

Tony smiled fondly. “Kid, it’s you, and you couldn’t do it wrong if you tried. Believe me, you’re the only one that can fix this.”

Confused and nervous, Peter settled in his seat and watched the streets fly past as Tony drove.

xXx

When Tony got them to the Tower, he led Peter up in the elevator to where Bucky and Steve were.

He could feel the tension in Peter's shoulder from where he was guiding him, and once again, he mentally flagellated himself for bringing him into this.

He could see no other solution, though. If it wasn't them that could connect with Bucky, it had to be Peter. And it made sense. It was Peter's death that Beck—that sick asshole—had put Bucky through, just like it had been Morgan's life at risk that Peter had seen.

They had no choice if they wanted to save Bucky from himself.

Steve was talking to Bucky quietly as they entered the living room, and when he saw Peter, his lips parted with a breath of relief which became a grimace. “Queens, I’m so sorry you’ve got to do this. If there was any other way to help him, we’d do it and keep you out of this.”

Peter nodded, licking his lips as he looked at Bucky, sitting almost perfectly motionless and blank-faced on the couch.

“Uh… what do I need to do?” he asked.

“Just talk to him,” Steve said. “Let him hear your voice.”

Peter came deeper into the room, sat down on the couch, and said, "Uh… Hey, Bucky. It's me, Peter. Tony said you saw something bad. That's happened to me, too, and it was scary. I know it was scary for you, too, but you can't stay like this. Mr. Stark and Steve are really worried about you." He took Bucky's hand. "So, can you maybe come back?"

“That’s it, Pete,” Tony said, sitting beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Keep going like that. It doesn’t matter what you say—it's just your voice he needs to hear. He needs to know you're here."

"So… uh… Oh! I did an old-school patrol tonight. There was this cat that got stuck hanging from the fire escape when its owner left a window open. I had to climb up and get it down, which it was not happy about at all. It's a good thing Mr. Stark made my suit so much tougher because it was scratching me like crazy."

“You’re doing great, Queens,” Steve said. “Keep going.”

Peter nodded, face strained, and said, "And at school today, we got to use the new classroom—the one I blew up—for the first time. Mr. Stark's donation must have been huge because you wouldn't believe the stuff we've got in there now."

Tony nodded, staring at Bucky’s face, waiting for the moment he’d come back to them. Peter was doing great, handling it, but he’d not yet found the right words to reach Bucky.

They had to hope he could.

Then Peter asked a question that made Tony gasp for him, wanting to stop him, but before he could, Bucky answered.

“What did you see that was so bad, Bucky?”

Bucky’s answer came in a monotone, face devoid of expression, and it made the color drain out of Peter with a slow breath.

“I saw you die.”

xXx

Bucky was sitting on a rock beside the lake outside the Tool Shed. It was dark, the stars shining above him like pinpricks of heaven creeping through. Or perhaps it was the Soul Plane he saw, the place Peter went to visit the people he loved.

Was he there now? Was he with his aunt and uncle like the stories of his time with them he’d told Bucky about, the happy memories which had given him a contented and peaceful look on his face?

Did he know Bucky had tried to save him?

He had been stupid to think it would work, that he would be able to snap when the arm was not him. There was no connection to his soul in that metal that had been needed. Peter's soul, Peter as a person, had been Worthy, but Bucky had no chance to even try.

He had failed him.

They had not done enough, because they hadn’t had enough time. Nemesis had sent them back, it had to be them all, before they could save Peter from whatever it was that they did to him.

None of them had asked, all too scared of the answer, if Peter’s path had changed, if the outcome was going to be his survival, but Bucky had thought it would be. Peter had changed so much since the events of Homecoming night. He shone brighter, with confidence and happiness, and that had to make him Worthy.

But he hadn’t been.

He had died in Bucky’s arms, and Bucky was never going to rid himself of the sight of Peter’s blank, brown eyes as they stared into nothing.

Bucky had held him as the life left him, and that pain was never going to leave him.

Bucky knew he was not really here, by the lake. He was here because he was dead. Perhaps the pain had killed him; maybe he had killed himself but did not remember. His place in the Soul Plane would be this, but he would have Peter if he could. Perhaps Peter could not come because his place was with his aunt and uncle. He didn't have The Infinity Stones anymore, so he could not visit.

He heard something, a distant voice that sounded like Peter's, but when he jumped to his feet and looked around, he was still alone. He was imagining things. Was it possible to lose your mind when you were already dead? Was he going to suffer that forever, the phantom voice of the kid he loved taunting him?

“Peter,” he moaned. “Please…”

He didn’t know what he was pleading for—whether he wanted Peter to come or for his voice to go. The voice made his pain even more potent, but it also reminded him of who Peter had been. Though could he ever really have forgotten? Even if he was in this place for millennia, could he forget the person that had changed his life so completely and purely for the good?

He sat down again, facing away from the lake now, and stared at the building in which his life with Peter had started—where his love for him had begun.

Peter’s voice came louder, clearer, and Bucky flinched. “What did you see that was so bad, Bucky?”

“I saw you die,” he replied.

Out of the darkness came a shape, a human form that was blurred around the edges. "But I’m not dead. It was a dream or something, or someone tricked you. I don't know. But I’m alive, Bucky. You’ve just got to look at me.”

The figure came closer, and its shape began to clear. Bucky stared, drinking him in as Peter’s face came into focus.

He looked worried, which matched his voice as he said, “Can you see me?”

Bucky nodded. “I can.”

“That’s great,” he said, with a huge exhale. “So, you can see I’m alive?” He looked over his shoulder and spoke to someone that wasn’t there. “Is this right, Mr. Stark? Am I doing it okay?”

Bucky could hear no reply, but Peter apparently did as he nodded.

"Okay, great." He came forward to Bucky and took his right hand and placed it on his chest. "Look, you can feel that, right? It's my heart beating. Because I'm alive—totally alive. Whatever you saw wasn't real." His brow furrowed. "Do you feel it?"

Bucky concentrated, wanting to feel it, and then he did. Peter’s racing heart pounded against his palm. He pressed closer, the throbbing seeming to reach into him and make his own heart pound in unison with it.

“See,” Peter said, “alive.”

“Is it real?” Bucky asked. “Am I alive, too?”

“Yeah, totally. You’re just kinda… I think you’re ill. But you’re okay. We’re in Mr. Stark’s living room, me and you, Mr. Stark and Steve, and you need to come back because they’re really worried about you. And so am I. Can you hear them? They’re talking to you.”

Bucky concentrated, and he thought he could hear a muffled whisper in his ear. “Come on, Buck. Queens is alive. He’s right here with you. What you saw wasn’t real. It was an illusion. He’s alive, but you’re scaring him. You’ve got to snap out of it.”

Bucky looked at Peter. “What do I have to do?”

Peter tilted his head to the side, seeming to be listening to something Bucky couldn't hear, and then he gave his head a brisk shake and said, "I think you just have to pull yourself out of it. Mr. Stark says you've seen it before, and Wanda did it. But she's not here, so you have to do it yourself. Can you?"

Bucky licked his lips. He was scared. Here, in this place, he had Peter. This could be a dream or illusion in which he saw Peter alive.

Peter took Bucky’s hands and pulled. “Come on, Bucky, come with me.”

Bucky allowed Peter to pull him upright. He took a step forward, led by Peter, and then his surroundings shimmered and dimmed. He felt he was tipping forward, and then he staggered. He was in Tony's living room. Steve was at his elbow, gripping it tightly, and Tony was standing behind Peter, hand on his shoulder.

Bucky looked around, taking in the room and people with him, and then he locked eyes with Tony, who he knew would never lie to him about this, and asked, “Is it real?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, it was all an illusion. Peter’s fine. Right, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m totally fine, Bucky. Really.”

Bucky stared at him, taking in the younger lines of his face, the worried brown eyes and pinched brow, and he allowed himself to breathe again. It hadn’t been real. Someone had tricked him. Which meant this Peter was real—he was alive, here with Bucky.

He collapsed forward onto Peter and threw his arms around him, sobs racking his body and Peter's hands patting his back and cradling his head.

“It’s okay, Bucky,” he said. “I’m here, and you’re fine. It wasn’t real.”

“It wasn’t real,” Bucky sobbed. “Thank god… it wasn’t real.” 

Chapter Text

Tony could see Peter was struggling a little as Bucky clung to him, chest heaving with sobs and raw cries slipping from him. Peter’s brow was furrowed, but he continued to pat Bucky’s back and stroke his hair with gentle movements.

Tony shot Steve a look, who nodded and said, “C’mon, Buck, give Queens some space.”

It seemed to take a lot of effort for Bucky to straighten up, releasing Peter, and his eyes still fixed on his face and seemed to drink him in.

“Sorry, bud,” he muttered, wiping his hand over his cheeks, smearing the tears.

“It’s okay,” Peter said, his voice bright but eyes worried. “Totally fine. Are you okay now?”

Bucky started to nod and then faltered. “I will be,” he said.

“Sit down, Buck,” Steve said. “I’ll get you a drink.”

Bucky obeyed, clasping his hands between his legs, darting glances at Peter, and then looking away quickly, almost as though he couldn't resist but knew he should.

Steve came back with a glass of whiskey for Bucky, which he took and knocked back, and a glass of milk for Peter, who frowned.

“I’m not giving you soda at this time of night,” Steve explained. “You’ve got to be able to go back to sleep.”

“Sure, okay,” Peter said, taking a sip. “Thanks.”

"Come sit down," Tony said. "Finish your milk, and then we'll get you home. Or do you want to stay here tonight?"

“I should go home. May’s working the night shift, but she’ll be home before I leave for school, and she’ll worry if I’m not there.”

“Okay,” Tony said. “I’ll drive you.”

Peter took another sip of his milk and then lowered it and said, “Can I ask something?”

Tony, who had been expecting this, took a breath and said, “Of course.”

Peter looked at Bucky, his bottom lip caught between his teeth for a long moment as he formulated his question. “You saw me die, right?”

Bucky flinched and nodded.

“But how?”

"We've got an enemy out there right now," Tony said. "We knew about him; he was the one that hurt Bucky that night you saw him in Queens. He’s working for someone, someone big, and I’m pretty sure he’s recruited one of my old employees for his tech skills.”

“And they showed Bucky me dying?”

“This guy worked with me on BARF,” Tony explained. “He wanted to weaponize it, but I wouldn’t. He went a little crazy, so I let him go. It seems he has weaponized it now for himself. He showed Bucky an illusion. We saw part of it, too. In the illusion, you were dead.”

Peter’s eyes were wide, but he didn’t speak. Instead, fixing his gaze on the floor and taking a large swig of his milk. 

“You’re safe, bud,” Bucky said, voice hoarse. “We won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Peter nodded, not looking at him.

Tony sighed. He needed to give Peter more information to protect him. He took out his phone and pulled up Beck’s employee file with a picture. “This is Quentin Beck,” he said. “He’s the one that, I think, created the illusion Bucky saw.” He pulled up another picture. “And this is a man called Helmut Zemo.” He placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, waiting until he looked up, before saying, “If you see this man, you run away.”

Peter flinched. “Is he stronger than me?”

“No, he’s just a human, but he’s got a powerful ally. He’s very dangerous. I mean it, you see him, you run in the other direction.”

Peter stared a moment and then nodded. “Okay, Mr. Stark.”

“Otherwise, just do what you’re already doing,” Steve said. “Keep patrolling, protecting Queens, and we’ll take care of Beck and Zemo. You don’t need to be a part of it.”

Peter nodded again, no trace of resistance in him.

Tony realized, once again, how different Peter was now to the person he’d been before. The first time they’d lived through these days, Peter would have been chomping at the bit to get involved. He would have wanted to be a part of the fight. This Peter was accepting Steve’s words, staying out of it.

Tony wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Was it more or less likely to make him Worthy when it mattered?

"Finish your milk, and I'll take you home," Tony said. "Spider-Babies need their sleep.”

Peter chuckled and set the glass down. “I’ve had enough.” He got to his feet and placed his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, face hesitant a moment, then said, “I’ll come see you soon, Bucky, okay?”

Bucky nodded, eyes still a little haunted by what he had seen.

“Thanks, Queens,” Steve said, squeezing his shoulder.

Tony led Peter to the elevator with a hand on his back, seeing Peter’s adrenaline seeping out of him now that they were alone. He looked tired and very young again. Now, with only a year between the Peter he knew best and the person he was now, he looked more familiar, the residual youth on his face fading, but it was the brown eyes—always the eyes—that showed him it was not yet his Peter.

They got down to the garage, and Tony opened the door to one of the Audis, which had more comfortable seats for Peter to relax in.

When Peter was settled, Tony turned up the heat to make the car warm and more likely to help Peter sleep through the ride home.

It worked, Peter yawned, and Tony smiled to himself.

He was halfway along Park Avenue when Peter spoke up, his voice drowsy. “Mr. Stark, can I ask something?”

“Sure, kid, anything.”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just… Bucky saw me die, and I get that was probably horrible, but he was so upset. It didn’t really make sense to me.”

Tony fixed his eyes on the road. “He cares about you, Pete. More than you know. I can’t explain it to you, not yet, but Bucky and Steve would do anything for you, give anything you ever needed or wanted, without hesitation. And so would I. You’re very important to us.”

Peter frowned. "But I've not known them that long. It seemed so bad for Bucky.”

Tony grimaced, but his voice was even as he replied. "It's not always how long you've known a person that makes a relationship. It's the impact they have on your life. Because of you, Bucky went to trial and was found innocent. You gave him a huge gift—the same for Steve, who is closer to Bucky than anyone. And me…" He glanced to the side and saw that Peter was listening with a thoughtful look in his eyes. "You gave me something I've never had before, Pete—you've changed my life. Maybe you can't understand that yet, but one day, I promise, you will."

Peter nodded. “Okay. I mean, yeah, I don’t really understand, but I believe you when you say I will one day.”

Tony smiled. “Settle down and get some sleep, kid. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

Peter yawned. “Yeah, school.  That’ll be good, I guess.”

Tony fixed his attention on the road as Peter rested his head against the window and stared drowsily out of the window at Manhattan drifting past.

Tony mulled over what had happened. The illusion he’d seen, horrifying as it was, had made him see he needed to do more for Peter.

They had another face to search for now, Beck, who was showy and might be their way to Zemo, but it was more. Peter needed to learn to fight. Whether Tony liked it or not, his son was going to be on that battlefield, and perhaps in a battle before that, depending on what Nemesis threw at them. He was great as Spider-Man, confident and experienced now, but he needed to do more.

It was time to put his plan into effect—Peter needed to learn to really fight.

xXx

Bucky went to the counter and poured himself another glass of whiskey. He sipped it this time, leaning against the wall, eyes distant.

“How are you doing?” Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged. “Exhausted… but scared to sleep in case I see it happen again.”

Steve winced. He'd seen enough of the illusion to threaten nightmares, Peter's body cradled in Bucky's arms, but he'd also had the reassurance it wasn't real. He'd known it couldn't be real the moment they'd seen it as there were too many flaws in the scene. Everyone there had been standing around Bucky and Peter, no one acting to comfort and no one grieving. Beck clearly didn't know them well enough to create a believable illusion of Peter's death, as none of them would be standing idle in the face of that loss.

Also, there was the fact there was no sensation of time travel. When Peter had sent them to 2016, there had been the rush of green light, the disconcerting sensation of being shifted and coming to in a new place. Between entering the warehouse and seeing what he saw, Steve felt only shock but no displacement.

Thank God it was not real.

“He died in my arms, Steve,” Bucky said, voice agonized and eyes distant. “I saw him on the battlefield, and I got there in time to stop him—I was right there. I took the gauntlet off him, I was going to do it, I tried, but…” He clenched his metal fist and snarled. “I don’t have an arm!”

Steve closed his eyes a moment, absorbing what he was hearing. He’d not imagined that Bucky would have tried, though he supposed he should have. He’d known for a long time that there was nothing Bucky wouldn’t do for Peter. 

"I couldn't save him," Bucky went on. "I tried so damn hard, but I couldn't stop him." He fixed Steve in his gaze, his eyes fiery with pain. "He died in my arms, Steve, and all I could do was watch.”

Steve's chest burned with pressure which felt like it was crushing him. He breathed through it, the pain of the possibility, then crossed to Bucky and grabbed his shoulders, holding them a little too tight. “Buck, we’re not going to watch him die! He’s going to be Worthy!”

Bucky’s eyes grew wet. “We don’t know that.”

“I know it!” Steve said fiercely. “I know because I know him. What you saw was an illusion—it was a trick. They weren’t going to show you us winning because they wanted to torture you—to break you. They failed. You’re here. Queens got you back.”

Bucky sagged forward until Steve was taking his weight, holding him up.

Steve rushed on, voice impassioned. “The kid that just came out of his bed in the middle of the night to help you is Worthy! The kid that didn’t understand what you were going through but saved you anyway is Worthy! The kid that’s going to be on that battlefield with us will be Worthy because we’re going to make sure of it.” He gave him a rough shake. “Understand?”

Bucky nodded, getting his feet under him. “I want to see him.”

Steve nodded eagerly. “Yeah, come on. We’ve got the BARF glasses downstairs in Tony’s lab. We’ll see him. He can help you.”

At least Steve hoped he could. None of them had asked if Peter was Worthy yet, too scared of the potential answer.

Bucky set down his glass and strode to the elevator. Steve followed him, feeling Bucky’s eagerness in his restless movements as they rode down then passed along the halls to the lab. Bucky scanned his palm, and the door opened. He crossed straight to the drawer and took out two glasses’ cases. He handed one to Steve, but before Steve could get the case open, Bucky was already sliding his own pair onto his face.

When Steve joined the illusion, by the lake outside the Tool Shed again, Bucky was once more in Peter’s arms, clutching him like he was all that tethered him to life. He wasn’t crying this time, but he was clinging to him, and Steve could see Peter’s face, a mask of pain, over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Hey, Queens,” Steve said quietly.

Peter smiled slightly and mouthed, “Hey, Brooklyn.”

Bucky clung to Peter for a long time, and when he released him, it seemed that he had to force himself to do it.

Peter leaned against Bucky’s shoulder, too-long hair falling around his face, and said, “I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“I’m sorry for how I reacted,” Bucky said quietly. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into it.”

Peter scoffed. “After what I did to you all after Ross and Thuri, I think I owed you a rescue.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t you. You’re only fifteen, bud. You shouldn’t have had to see me like that.”

"No," Peter said firmly. "I was glad I could help—then and now. Sure, I'm confused in 2017 and a little freaked out by what I heard, but I can handle it. Tony is helping me understand.”

Bucky nodded, though he still looked worried.

“Are we doing the right things, Queens?” Steve asked. “I mean…” He bit his lip. “Are you Worthy?”

Peter sighed. “It’s coming towards Worthy now, slowly. I wasn't after what happened at the school, but after talking to Tony, it started to swing in the other direction. Being with you all, building confidence, is helping me."

“What else can we do?” Bucky asked, voice urgent.

"I don't know yet," Peter said. "We don't know why Nemesis hasn't come for me yet. They've had a year. But it's got to be soon if they plan to give themselves enough time to do it. Unless whatever they planned is so big it's a one-strike plan." He sighed. "We just don't know. But I am changing in the right direction."

“You seem like you to me now,” Bucky said. “You came to help me in the middle of the night.”

Peter shook his head. “I think Mind explained it to you. It’s more than just who I am as a person—it’s about how I feel about myself. It’s a state of being. Me where you are, 2017, is…” he grimaced, “I’m good enough, if that’s the right word, but I’m not strong enough. I don’t feel Worthy. That is getting better, though. I’m finding more to value in myself by seeing how you value me. It’s working in the right direction.”

Steve nodded. That was not all the reassurance he wanted, but it was at least something. If it was what they did for Peter that made him Worthy, they would all do whatever it took. It actually felt a little easier now, knowing there was more they could do than protect him from what Nemesis threw at him. Steve felt like they had some control in it.

“You okay, Bucky?” Peter asked, drawing Steve’s attention back to where he was.

Bucky shook his head. “I’m scared, bud.”

Peter nodded, eyes sad. “Me too. Let’s just hang out here a while and see if it gets any better.” He took Bucky’s hand and led him to the rocks, looking out at the lake. They sat down, and Peter leaned against Bucky's side. Bucky wrapped an arm around him and rested his cheek on Peter's crown.

Steve watched them a moment, two of the people he loved most of all in the world, and he realized they didn’t need him here now. This was about the two of them.

He slipped the glasses off and tucked them back in the case, leaving Bucky and Peter  immersed in each other.

He had a feeling that was what Bucky needed to heal. 

Chapter Text

Peter was eager for his weekend at the compound, looking forward to seeing everyone again, but he was a little anxious about what Tony said would be the first phase of his training. He'd said Natasha was going to be involved, which was more than a little scary.

Though Peter knew, logically, he was stronger than Natasha, she was Black Widow, a total badass, and he was pretty sure he was going to have his ass kicked.     

It would at least be a story to tell Ned, who never got sick of hearing about Peter’s time with The Avengers.

Tony met Peter outside, took him to his bedroom to drop off his bag, then instructed him to put on his suit.

A little daunted that he was apparently starting already, when he’d hoped for a night to prepare himself, Peter changed in the bathroom then followed Tony to the gym where Natasha was waiting, dressed in yoga pants and a tank top. The other Avengers were sitting on benches, apparently there to observe.

Sam and Clint were sharing a bowl of popcorn, which made Peter feel like he was here to put on a good show for them.

He was pretty sure he was going to oblige.

“Okay, Nat,” Tony said, clapping his hands and ending the conversations from the spectators. “He needs to learn defense, as much as you can teach him. Pete, you can’t let loose with your strength, not yet, but pay attention to what she’s telling you. Nat is the best trained in hand-to-hand of all of us.”

“Excuse me?”  Clint said dramatically, pausing with a handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth.

Natasha turned and glared at him. “You seriously going to argue this, Barton?”

He considered then mumbled. “I’m good, too.”

“Yeah, you are, Legolas,” Tony said, voice more than a little patronizing. “And if you want a go against Peter after Natasha, you can go ahead.”

Clint eyed Peter and grinned. "Sounds good."

“Mask on, Pete,” Tony instructed.

Peter obeyed, and Karen greeted him with a cheerful, “Good morning, Peter. What are we doing today?”

“Getting my ass kicked, I think. Standby, Karen.”

She fell silent, and Peter followed Tony's directions to the middle of the mat. Natasha stood opposite him, her eyes assessing him. He was glad he was wearing his mask because he was starting to freak out, and it had to be clear on his face.

“C’mon, Nat!” Clint called. “Take Spidey down!”

Peter flinched. He was pretty sure she didn’t need encouragement. The look in her eyes was dangerous.

Natasha struck with the speed of a snake. One moment she was standing opposite Peter, her face serene, and the next, she'd hooked her left leg around his right and knocked him onto his ass. He fell hard, his teeth snapping together and his face flushing, embarrassed by the speed at which she'd taken him down.

“Leg trip takedown,” Clint said approvingly. “Nice.”

Natasha hauled Peter to his feet again and said, “Your turn. Try it on me.”

Peter’s eyes widened, and there were chuckles from the spectators. Still, he thought he could do it; he’d paid attention to what she’d done, and he did have speed on his side. He stood still a moment, then snapped forwards, his hands on her elbows as his leg hooked around hers.

But before he could do more than that, Natasha was bending over, her shoulder slamming into his stomach. He flew over her head, rolling off of her at the last moment, flipping, and landing on his feet.

“Nice regroup,” she said approvingly. “Do you know why I was able to take you down?”

"Uh… because you're Black Widow and can probably kill me with your pinky, and I'm just Peter."

“No,” she said, mouth a hard line. “I took you down because you were holding back.”

“I have to!” Peter said defensively. “I really am too strong.”

“Yes, but if you used your strength, I’d have been on my back before I could have done a thing to stop you. Yes, you’re strong, but you need to use that without worrying about breaking me.”

“But I could break you,” Peter argued.

Natasha turned around and said, “It’s too soon for me, Tony. He needs Bucky.”

Bucky’s face fell. “I’m not fighting Peter.”

“Yes, you are,” she said. “You know as many combat moves as me, and you’re a lot stronger. Peter’s going to have a harder time hurting you than me.”

“You can do it, Buck,” Steve encouraged.

Bucky still didn’t look happy, but he rose to his feet and walked toward Peter, Natasha moving back and taking his place with Steve.

He flexed his fists and said, “Okay, bud, you’re not going to hurt me, so don’t hold back.”

Peter would have believed that if he had not broken Steve’s nose, so he only ventured a gentle punch towards Bucky’s face, which he leaned back to avoid.

“Harder, Spidey!” Clint shouted. “He can take it.”

Bucky looked uncomfortable, and Peter was starting to wish Tony had never suggested this. He knew he was here to learn, though, that Tony thought it was important, so he was going to do his best.

He struck out a fist, catching Bucky’s jaw, and Bucky grunted.

“Did I hurt you?” Peter asked, hands flying up at once.

Bucky shook his head and said, “No, you’re good.”

“You’ve got to attack, Bucky,” Natasha said. “You can’t just be his punchbag.”

Bucky fisted his hands, and Peter stood, waiting for him to strike. It never came, though. Bucky stared at him for a moment, then shook his head and turned away. "I can't do it," he said roughly. "I can't hurt him."

“Bucky,” Steve said, voice consoling.

“No!” Bucky snapped, marching out of the room, and letting the door slam shut behind him.

Peter watched him go, feeling a welling of sadness in his chest. He cared a lot about Bucky, but it seemed so much more intense for him. Peter didn’t really understand it, though Tony said he would one day. To him, it felt like Bucky knew him somehow in a way that Peter didn’t see happen, like he was forgetting something important.

“I’ll go after him,” Steve said, getting to his feet.

“No!” Natasha said firmly. “You’re going up against Peter. Both of you, use your strength.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Bruises fade fast for you super-people.”

Peter didn't find that reassuring. He didn't want to hurt Steve any more than he wanted to be hurt himself. He looked to Tony, though, and saw a look of expectation on his face.

Once again, Peter thought he was missing something big. He wondered if this training was about the threat they said The Avengers were facing, that Zemo and Beck and whoever their boss was. He didn’t think it was that, though, because they said he wasn’t going to be a part of it—that he should run in the other direction if he saw Zemo.

Perhaps that wasn't something they could control, though. If those people came for him—why they would, he didn't know—he should be able to defend himself and stop them without killing them.

With new determination, he squared his stance as Steve approached and stood in front of him, fixing the wrappings around his hands. He was going to be careful this time, hopefully not break Steve’s nose, but he was going to pay attention and learn.

Because if he was going to be a part of facing that threat, he was going to do it without ending a life.

After Ben, he never wanted to be the cause of anyone else’s death.

xXx

After two hours of training, with words of encouragement and support coming for Peter from all directions, excepting Clint, who jeered Steve, Peter was doing better. Tony was proud.

Though Natasha could teach him the most about actual fighting techniques, Steve was a better match for him while he was building confidence, and no blood had been spilled yet.

Tony called a halt after the third time Peter managed to pin Steve down, wanting to end the exercise on a high for his son.

Peter and Steve headed for the showers, and everyone else went into the common room to get lunch. Bucky had joined Peter’s cooking lessons with Tony on weekends, but Tony wanted a simple lunch so they could move into the next session of training.

He took out the fixings for sandwiches and spread them on the counters, then told everyone to get what they wanted themselves.

Bucky was nowhere to be seen, and Tony guessed he had headed out for a while to clear his head. It had been a bad idea to try to get him to go against Peter. After the illusion, he was hyper-defensive of Peter and his safety.

Though Bucky wasn’t remotely technically-minded, he’d taken to watching Friday’s surveillance search for Beck, Josef, and Zemo. They had tried tricking Zemo to get information and failed, so they were going to use force next time. T'Challa was in agreement, seeing the threat he posed as one to the world as well as to Peter, so if and when they found him, they were transporting him to Wakanda to be questioned.

Josef and Beck would get the same treatment, but Tony had no expectations Beck would have much useful information for them. For Tony, catching Beck and shipping him to a cell in Wakanda was about revenge. He’d tortured Bucky, and Tony was going to make him pay for it.

Ross was untouchable for them—even though Tony would have loved to blast a hole through his chest—because he was Nemesis. They were too powerful for even The Avengers as a group to deal with. Even just as Ross, he was untouchable as Secretary of State. The protection he had as a politician was fierce. Despite the fact Tony would like nothing more than to make him pay for what he did to Peter, what he would do, he couldn’t do a thing.

It was Peter that would have to face Nemesis if they succeeded in their mission to get him through the snap alive.

Sometimes, Tony lay awake at night wondering what that battle was going to look like, if they would have a part in it or if they would be left to stand and watch while Peter fought for the universe. Tony wanted to fight with him, whatever form that took, because to stand by and let Peter fight alone would be torture.

People were starting to assemble their lunches when Steve and Peter came back, hair wet from the shower, and Steve held up a hand and called, “Stop what you’re doing!”

They all looked around, Clint with a slice of cheddar hanging out of his mouth and Sam holding a bottle of mustard in his hands.

“Queens, you good to educate them with your super-sandwiches?” Steve asked.

Peter looked from face to face, seeing their confusion, and grinned. “Sure, okay.”

“Clear the way,” Steve said. “Magic is about to happen.”

With bewildered looks, they all set down what they were holding and moved to the other side of the counter as Peter and Steve walked forward and began assembling what they needed for Peter's sandwiches. Tony didn't think he would get away with not eating one this time, even though the idea of pickles was already turning his stomach.

“Anyone not like pickles?” Peter asked.

Tony started to raise his hand, thinking he had a reprieve, but Steve spoke up, voice carrying, “No, Queens, you’re going to make them exactly how you’ve made them for me. Trust me, anyone that didn’t like pickles before is going to love them after this.”

No one looked that confident, but they didn’t complain as Peter and Steve created an assembly line of ingredients, and Steve sliced the subs and handed them to Peter.

“Is this going to be as good as Steve says?” Rhodey murmured.

Tony didn’t think so, but he wasn’t about to put Peter down when he was enjoying himself, so he said, “Absolutely,” his voice surprisingly confident.

Peter worked quickly, plating each sandwich when it was ready, and Steve handed them out. No one started to eat, seemingly not wanting to be the first to try what appeared to be an unusual combination of foodstuffs, until they all had one, Tony included.

When they all had a sandwich, Peter looked at them expectantly. Tony figured he should take the lead, and he picked up his sandwich and took a bite, masterfully hiding a grimace. The unseen grimace turned to shock and then pleasure as he tasted it. Tony hated pickles, and he could see no logic to the combination of meats and cheese, but the sandwich was good.

He chewed quickly and said, “Pete, that’s amazing.”

Peter beamed, and Steve clapped him on the back, "Good job, Queens. I told you, Tony! You've just gotta have a little faith in your son.”

Peter visibly started, eyes wide, and then quickly picked up his own sandwich and took a large bite, chewing determinedly and not looking at anyone.

Tony shot a glare at Steve, who mouthed an apology. Tony understood how it had happened—they were all relaxed, their guard down—but it was way too soon for Peter to hear himself referenced as Tony's son when the deepest part of the connection was only one-sided.

“It really is good,” Natasha said, taking another bite of her own, helping to ease the uncomfortable moment.

"Thanks," Peter said, looking pleased, though still a little bemused, and others added their own praise, though Clint's was just, "Not bad, Spidey."

Tony tried not to stare at his son, but his eyes drifted to him every few seconds, wondering what was going on in his head.

Peter’s face was unreadable, though, which was strange as he was usually so expressive. Tony wished he knew what Peter was thinking, that their bond was in a place in which he could just ask. They weren’t there yet, though, not for Peter, so Tony was left to puzzle out what Peter felt for himself.

He couldn’t wait until he could finally just ask.

xXx

Franklin Tyne had two passions in life.

The first, which was fully supported by his parents who thought it would lead to a great career, was computers. He wanted to be a programmer for someone like Stark Industries, working in their tech development division.

He dreamed of meeting Tony Stark and being taught how to create his own AI. That was his ultimate dream after he’d read about how Tony Stark created The Vision from his AI after the Ultron creation went nuts.

Franklin would be way more careful with his AI, and he wouldn't give it any kind of body.

His other passion, which was not supported by his parents, who were avid readers of The Daily Bugle, was Spider-Man.

It had started over a year ago, when he’d managed to capture Spider-Man stopping a speeding car on his cell phone. It had given him his most popular video on YouTube—the hits still climbed even now.

From that moment, seeing those incredible actions, he’d been following Spider-Man’s life. It was hard, since Spider-Man didn’t publicize what he did—he didn’t even have a Twitter account. Franklin hung around Queens at night, though, and sometimes saw him swinging around. He had more shaky footage of him, but nothing as cool as the first one.

He had a fan site dedicated to Spider-Man, which had some regular subscribers. One of them, The_Flash_Man, didn’t seem legit, because he always had stories of Spider-Man’s rescues, usually of him, but no proof of them. He sometimes got reports from people he legitimately had rescued, people that had searched out more information about their hero and found his site. There was one person that posted to the site that was a real asset. He called himself Guy_In_The_Chair, and he told stories that added up to what people were seeing on the streets of Queens.

There were no real names on Spidey-Watch, it was a place to be open about your passion without identifying yourself, and Franklin loved it. He felt he had a sense of fellowship with fellow Spider-Man fans.

Along with his dream of meeting Tony Stark, there was another which felt it might be possible. He wanted to meet Spider-Man, face to face, and talk to him. He often thought about what to say, the questions he’d ask, but he knew he was more likely to go non-verbal with shock. The most obvious question, which he would never ask, was who Spider-Man really was. He didn’t want to spoil the mystery. No one in the world knew who Spider-Man really was, and Franklin wanted to keep it that way.

What if he turned out to just be some kid he went to school with? That would be the ultimate disappointment.

No, Franklin liked to guess at who could be under the mask and never know.

He was walking home from school and whistling to himself. He was going to get home, do his homework, then head out into Queens to see if he could spot Spider-Man again. 

He was content, happy, and didn’t immediately notice the footsteps following him. When he did, he looked back, noting how it was strange he’d noticed them when the street was not quiet. It was their pace which caught his attention, though, as they were perfectly in time with his, like they were doing it on purpose.

Feeling a little uneasy, he sped up, and the person following did, too. He looked over his shoulder and saw a woman wearing a black baseball cap and a leather jacket. She raised her head and smiled at him, and his mouth dropped open.

It was Black Widow!

He didn't follow The Avengers as much as Spider-Man, as they were a little mainstream and he liked to buck the trends, but he'd always had a bit of a crush on Black Widow.

He came to a dead stop, and she approached him, taking off her baseball cap and shaking out her red hair. "Hi. You're Franklin, right?"

“Uh… yeah. How do you know that?”

She smirked. “How do you think? I’ve been paying attention to you. And I’m not the only one. Spider-Man sent me.”

Franklin’s eyes widened. “Spider-Man! What? How? I mean… Why?”

She tugged on his elbow and led him into an alley between a café and tattoo parlor. He moved without conscious instruction, her hand gripping him tightly.

“Spider-Man has been looking into you,” she said. “You run that site for him, right?”

“Yeah, but how did he know? And how do you know Spider-Man?”

She laughed. “Spidey keeps it close to the chest, but he’s one of us—an Avenger. Tony helped him track you down through the site, and Spidey really wants to meet you. He’s got a mission he needs your mind on.”

“He needs me?” Franklin squeaked.

“He does. He’s facing a threat that he needs your help with. We think he’s being targeted by an enemy, one that might be using your site to track him. Look, if you’re not interested, Tony can take over the website and do it himself. We just thought you might have some insight we can use.”

"No. I mean, yes. I have insight. Totally."

“Good,” she said.

She led him through the alley to the street at the other end.

“Ms. Widow,” he said tentatively. “Will I find out who Spider-Man really is?”

“If you want to.”

“I don’t,” he said. “I know it probably seems dumb, but I don’t want to know.”

She smirked. “In that case, you won’t know. I understand that. If Spider-Man is a mystery, it’s a little easier to imagine there’s a little hero inside of all of us.”

“Exactly,” Franklin said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“I think you might be the hero we need,” she said. “Just this way.”

She directed him towards a reinforced door with black rivets.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Franklin asked, feeling uneasy now.

“Positive,” she said.

She knocked on the door, and it creaked open. Franklin tried to step back, unsure what was happening was right, but Black Widow's grip was strong and her voice reassuring, so he allowed himself to be led inside.

After all, this was Black Widow, and he was about to meet Spider-Man.

The room they entered was dimly lit, but there was light coming from a bank of computers on the opposite side. A man was sitting at them, his fingers flying over the keys and a pen clamped between his teeth.

“Is this the one?” a man with a Russian accent asked, stepping out of the corner.

“Franklin Tyne,” Black Widow said. “He’s the one.”

“Good,” the man said. “I will call The commander.”

"Where's Spider-Man?" Franklin asked, voice small, as he was now sure there was something really wrong, and he couldn't see Spider-Man anywhere.

Black Widow laughed and held his cheeks in her hands, an uncomfortably intimate touch. “Soon, Franklin, you will be Spider-Man.”

“What do you—” Franklin started, and then he cried out in shock as he felt a prick in the side of his neck and irresistible lethargy swept through him.

His knees buckled, and he dropped, strong arms catching him and lowering him to the ground.  

He was out before another thought could complete.

xXx

Franklin was scared.

 He had given up the belief that he was going to meet Spider-Man or that Tony Stark was involved, but he did believe Black Widow was part of it. That was because he had seen her with his own eyes, though. Neither Spider-Man nor Iron man would tie him to a chair.

Why The Black Widow had gone rogue, he had no idea, but his one enduring hope was that Spider-Man would save him.

He didn’t think he'd been there that long, not more than an hour, but when the door creaked open and Black Widow came in with the tall and muscular man who had spoken before, his heart started to race. He didn’t think there was long left for Spider-Man to save him.

“Tell me, Franklin, what is your dream?” Black Widow asked.

“To go home,” Franklin said in a small voice. “To see my mom again.”

She narrowed her eyes. “No, that is a desire, an understandable one, but what do you dream of?”

Franklin had one other dream, which he never shared with anyone because it was stupid. His private dream was to be Spider-Man himself. He wanted to be the hero of Queens that people loved and relied on to keep them safe. Sometimes, he imagined how it would feel to swing from buildings like he was flying, to stop crimes and protect people.

But that was a stupid dream.

“Just to go home,” he said. “Please, let me go home. I won’t tell anyone I was here or what happened.”

“What happened?” the man asked. “Stupid child. Nothing has even begun to happen yet.”

Black Widow held up a hand to him. “Franklin, I think I know what your dream is,” she said. “I was trained to read people in The Red Room, to search for weaknesses and exploit them. Luckily for you, your dream is going to come true. However, if you fail us, you will be the first casualty of The Commander’s mission.”

She walked to a table set up by the window where there was a silver case, which she opened and took out a syringe and needle.

Franklin's breaths came fast, panting. He hated needles, ad since he was a kid, when he'd been held down to get a shot. As bad as this was to be trapped here, wrists tied together with wire ties and his feet tied to the chair, this was what was making true terror pulse through him.

She shot out a drop and then carried it towards him.

“Please, don’t do this,” Franklin begged. “You don’t need to drug me.”

Black Widow smiled sweetly. “We’re not drugging you, Franklin—we’re fulfilling a dream. You’re going to be Spider-Man.”

Her words made no sense, and Franklin began to whip his head from side to side. “No, don’t do it!”

Black Widow looked over her shoulder. “This going to work?”

The man nodded. “The Commander ordered it. They are all-knowing. It came from the Patriot Project. It will work.”

Black Widow nodded and yanked out Franklin's bound hands. With her painfully tight grip on his upper arm, the vein at the crook of his elbow bulged, and she inserted the needle and pushed down on the plunger. His head swam, and he willed shock to drop him into unconsciousness.

It did not, though. As the fire spread from his elbow up his arm, he began to scream as his body was overtaken by flames.

xXx

Ross tapped on the steel door, and it was opened with an awed, "Commander," from Vostokoff.

She was still wearing her photostatic veil, making her look like Natasha Romanoff, and the sight of her made a curl of dislike ripple in his chest. Though Romanoff had no part in what happened with the Asset, she was already dead when Ross seized him, she was one of The Avengers, which made her the enemy.

Also, her existence did not belong where she had come from—it was merely a show of power from the Asset. 

He entered the room and looked around. The child they needed was in a chair, his chin resting on his chest and his eyes closed.

“How did he react?” Ross asked.

"He screamed for a while and then passed out. We are limited on time. If he does not return home, it will be noticed.

Ross sighed. The fact he was limited by a child’s curfew, even with all the power he had at his hands, was frustrating. He was Nemesis now, one side of the greatest power the universe had ever seen, and yet…

“Soon,” Ego whispered. “When we have succeeded, when the child is dead and Stones our own, we will have no limitations ever again.”

“I know,” Ross murmured. “It’s almost time.”

The past months had been a trial. He was eager to act against the Asset at once, but Ego made him wait. She said they had time, which was true. However, now, it was finally time to act.

“How is Beck’s experimenting going?” he asked.

“He has replaced all that was lost in the Barnes attack,” Josef replied. “Stark and his team seized what we left behind.”

“Has Barnes been seen since?” Vostokoff asked.

Ross shook his head. “Not that I am aware of. I think we can believe he is still as broken as he was when they led him out of this place. That is one less person to stand behind the Asset.”

“Act now,” Ego instructed. “Take me to him.”

Ross moved forwards, towards the child, and he felt Ego take over. His hands rose and gripped the child’s head. Her voice whispered through him, instructing the child in his new mission, removing the memories that needed to be wiped and adding new ones. Frustratingly for Ross, he did not know where the Asset had got his powers from, so they created their own situation of an illicit experiment at Stark Industries.

As Ego whispered to him, the child's eyes opened and fixed on Ross. His lips parted with awe, and he said, "I serve you," in a breathy voice.

Ego withdrew, leaving Ross in charge, and he said, “Who are you?”

“Franklin,” he said. “And you are Nemesis.”

“I am,” Ross said. “Who are you really?”

 “I am Spider-Man.”

“Very good. And what does Spider-Man do?”

He licked his lips and smiled widely. “Spider-Man kills bad people.”

Ross’ own smile grew in return. “Yes, he does, but only those deserving. Remember, Spider-Man is a hero.” The word caught in his throat like a barb.

“I’m a hero,” the child repeated, his eyes shining.

Ross nodded and turned away to address Vostokoff. “Give him the suit. Train him in its use. Warn Beck, if this fails, he will be punished.”

She bowed her head. “Yes, Commander.”

Ross swept out of the room, feeling exulted that the plan was finally coming into effect.

Chapter Text

49. Theory and Home Invasion

Ned was sitting on his bed, legs kicked up, and Peter was sitting by his feet. The video game they'd been playing was paused on the TV, and they were sharing the bowl of cinnamon popcorn, which Ned's mom had brought them.

They were supposed to be together to go over decathlon facts, and they had for a while, but they’d both decided they were straining their brains too much after a day with two pop quizzes sprung on them, so they’d played Mario Kart instead.

“You seriously played this with Hawkeye?” Ned asked, popping a kernel into his mouth.

“Yep,” Peter said. “And I kicked his ass with a blue shell. Bucky had a turn after, but he… Well, he sucks. That’s understandable, though, since video games have never been a part of his life before. We tried to get Vision to play, too, but he wouldn’t.”

"Bucky Barnes, Hawkeye, Vision… Do you know how crazy your life is, Peter?"

Peter snorted. "Hell yeah. I'm more than aware this is all nuts, and it makes no sense. But they're really nice—not at all superior, which they should be since they're, you know, The Avengers.”

Ned threw a piece of popcorn at him. "You need to try those confidence-building tapes my mom used after she lost her job. They're the Avengers, yeah, but you're Spider-Man!"

Peter scoffed, but he actually felt a warmth in his chest. He was starting to feel the gulf between him and the Avengers wasn’t that great after all.

 It was mostly because of them that he felt it. They acted like he was one of them, with no barrier between them at all, like they knew something he didn’t. There was the way Bucky had reacted when Natasha had wanted them to spar. It was like he really couldn’t bring himself to do it, to risk hurting Peter. And how he’d been so completely blindsided by what he saw in that illusion—Peter’s death—that it had made him shut down. Peter really cared about him, but it seemed so much more intense on Bucky’s side.

“Ned, can I ask you something?” Peter asked, his hands twisting nervously on his lap.

Ned looked at him, then sat up straight and moved aside the popcorn bowl to the bedside table, serious and attentive. "Yeah, you know that. You can ask me anything."

“It’s just that…”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure how to broach this, or if there was even anything to broach as he could be imagining it all. It’s not like he had never imagined anything weird before—May always said he had the Parker imagination, and Uncle Ben used to tell him the best bedtime stories when he couldn’t sleep, so maybe there was something in that.

“It’s what?” Ned prompted.

Peter took a deep breath, braced himself, then said, "Okay, so sometimes it feels like I'm missing something huge when I'm with Mr. Stark and the others. Like they know me better than I know them." He chanced a glance at Ned, who looked contemplative, and went on. "It's like they care so much more than makes sense. Not all of them, it's mainly Tony, Bucky, and Steve, but there's also something with the others, like they know something about me that I don't know myself."

“Like what?” Ned asked.

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. That's the problem. No, that's not the problem; they know something, and that's fine, but it's the way they are with me." He planted his hands on his knees. "Okay, there was this thing with Bucky. Some bad guys got him, and I guess there was this illusion or something. In it, I died—I mean, he saw me die."

Ned’s mouth dropped open. “You died!”

“Illusion, Ned,” Peter said. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sorry. I lost my head for a second. Go on.”

“Well, what they showed him broke him, like, totally. Mr. Stark had to come and get me to take me to the tower in the middle of the night to help him. He was totally shut down—catatonic or something. I had to talk to him, and I guess that made him come back. But, Ned, I've never seen anything like that before. Not even May, after Ben died, was like that, and you remember how bad that was."

Ned nodded, his eyes sad. “I do. For both of you.”

“That’s what I mean. Ben died, and I—” He shook his head. “And it was the worst thing to ever happen to me, but it didn’t do that to me, and I loved Ben so much. And Bucky, he doesn’t really know me, not really and not for long, but he was wrecked by it. It’s like he really loves me, Ned, like really, and it doesn’t make sense.”

Ned frowned. “I don’t know. Some people are just easy to get attached to. You’re totally one of them.”

“No, it’s more than that. It’s like he knows me. And it's the same with Mr. Stark and Steve. I mean, Mr. Stark and Rhodey just showed up at our science fair— like why would they do that? I've never heard of Mr. Stark going to any schools before—he only does his MIT seminars. But he showed up, and out of everything, he found my invention and gave me an internship, and now he gives me all that time and—" He bowed his head. "This is the part that's really crazy, but I can't work it out alone." He looked into Ned's eyes. "Steve slipped up the other day. He called me Tony's son."

Ned ran a hand through his hair, eyes distant. “Okay, so you think they already knew you when they showed up? Like they were there just to see you?”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Peter sighed.

“No, not crazy, I’m just trying to wrap my mind around it. So, they know you really well, like you’re really special to them in a way that you don’t think adds up?”

“Yes.”

Ned ran a hand through his hair again, eyes now filled with the fevered look he got when he was solving some math problem or working on his computer upgrades. “Time travel.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Time travel. Or alternate dimensions. Yeah, that one is a little more likely. They’re from a dimension in which you’re Tony Stark’s son. Or…” He examined Peter. “Are you sure he’s not your father?”

Peter snorted. "Ned, you've seen photos of my dad, and you knew Uncle Ben. Do you really think there's a chance my genes don't come from their side of the family?”

“Yeah, true, so not a biological connection. Maybe he adopted you in that universe. Yeah, he could totally have done that, I mean, if there was no May and Ben.”

Peter shuddered. “I don’t want to think about that, Ned.”

"No. Totally. My bad. Not adoption, then. Maybe he's like your surrogate father wherever he's from. Or whenever—because I think time travel is still a possibility. Maybe in that timeline, he's had longer with you and now sees you as a son. And that'd add up with Bucky and Steve, too. They could all be your family in the future."

Peter stared at him. “That seems very unlikely, Ned.”

“Really? Like you don’t see that happening already? All that stuff you’re telling me has a real strong found family vibe.”

Peter considered. Yeah, it felt like Ned could be right, but at the same time, him being family with the Avengers seemed like something a kid would dream up.

“Peter, think, just because something’s not proven, yet, it doesn't mean it's not possible. There's Doctor Everett's many-worlds interpretation, in which both time travel and alternate universes exist. Or there's Professor Hawking's posited theory that a time traveler would end in their own history. So, yeah, totally possible." He nodded. "They're totally time travelers. I wonder what the future's like."

Peter stared at him a moment, his mind processing what Ned had said and mulling it over. Though a part of him, the scientist side, said it couldn’t be real, it didn’t mean there was no room for the possibility. And if anyone was going to come up with a feasible way to time travel, it was Tony Stark.

He rubbed his hands over his face. He didn’t want to say he believed it, because it was way too out there, but Ned had shared his theory with him openly, so he had to give him the same respect.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said quietly.

“Dude, I’m totally right. Tony Stark is your father in the future. That’s so awesome. And you’re totally an Avenger. I knew this would happen, ever since you told me about the suit he made you. He’s been priming you to be an Avenger all this time. I wonder when he’ll ask.”

Peter punched his leg. “Dude, you’re spiraling away on this. Time travel, maybe, but Mr. Stark is not going to make me an Avenger. I’m fifteen.”

“Right now you are, but who knows how old you are in the future when he’s your dad.”

Peter felt a strange warmth blossom in his chest, the idea that he might have that one day with Tony, whom he already did love. He immediately felt guilty about it, like he was betraying his father and Uncle Ben by letting someone else into that place in his life. Would they understand? He believed Ben would, but he had only vague memories of his father, so he wasn’t sure about him.

He shook his head and picked up the game controller. “Let’s play again,” he said.

Ned stared at him a moment, as if wondering whether to push the topic, but he evidently decided not to and picked up his own controller and un-paused the game.

“You’re going down, dude,” he said, voice filled with false cheer.

“You wish,” Peter said, his own tone matching that false note.

He had a lot to think about, things to decide—like if he’d ask Tony if Ned's theory was right. But he wasn't going to think about that yet. He was going to just enjoy his time with Ned. 

xXx

Spider-Man crawled up the wall and eased open the window he’d been directed to. He climbed through and landed lightly on the balls of his feet.

He looked around the room he’d found himself in. It was untidy, a mess of books, papers, pens, and a laptop that looked like it had been built from scraps on the desk. On the end of the unmade bed was a pile of fresh laundry to be put away, and there was a lone sneaker in the middle of the floor.

There were signs of the room occupant’s interests, too. Science textbooks that looked like they belonged in a college library with Post-its marking the pages with scrawled notes, some constructed Lego sets on the shelves, there were photographs pinned to a corkboard. One was a picture of a small boy with two people that looked like his parents—there was a similarity of features. Another was a photo of an older child standing with a man that also had a familial similarity. They were at a fair somewhere, standing in front of a booth displaying stuffed toys and rubber ducks with hooks. Spider-Man saw the stuffed bear in the boy’s arms on the end of the bed, more battered now that it was in the picture. It clearly meant something to the boy whose room he was in.

He picked up the teddy, and its limp head flopped on its stuffed shoulders. He dropped it down again. He took the pictures from the corkboard one by one and examined them. On the back of the small boy with the couple—his family—was a note declaring it Peter (age four) with Mary and Richard. On the back of the fair picture was Peter (age 9) with Ben at New Jersey Fall Fair.

Spider-Man poked the Lego toys on the shelf, noting a Star Wars theme to them. They were dusty, and the room had a neglected look, as if the boy that lived here, Peter, wasn't spending much time in his room now.

What was he doing instead?

He shook his head and returned to his task. He knew what he was here for, and it wasn’t to get an insight into the boy’s life. Spider-Man was here for a mission. He lifted the draped sheets and checked under the bed, but there was nothing there. He dropped the sheet and checked under the desk, but, again, his searched-for thing wasn't there. He opened the closet, and his eyes widened.

“Got ya,” he muttered.

He pulled out the silver case and set it on the bed, then popped the clasps and gasped. Though they had told him what he would find, he’d not believed it was possible. How could someone have copied his suit so perfectly? It was exact down to the last detail. What kind of obsessive mind would do this just to pretend to be someone they were not?

The kind of person Nemesis said must be tracked, apparently.

He had asked if he should not stop them himself, Spider-Man was capable, but they said he was not necessary yet. They said they had their own plan for him.

Spider-Man served Nemesis, so he would do as they asked. Just as he would do what Nemesis’ lieutenants—Black Widow and Josef—asked. 

He took the small device he’d been given and planted it in the suit, right behind the spider emblem on the chest, and then neatly folded it and placed it back in the case. He examined it carefully, ensured it was exactly as he’d found it, and then closed the case and stuffed it back in the closet.

He gave the room one last sweeping look and said, “I am Spider-Man. You are nothing.”

There was no reply, the apartment was empty, but he didn’t need a one. He had done his job.

He climbed out of the window, his suit gripping the wall, slid it shut, then shot out a web and swung away from the buildings, building up speed and making his way into the heart of Queens.

He had time until he was needed home to play the role of Franklin, so he would do his job until he had to stop.

He was going to save people, because that was what Spider-Man did, and if he found the right person, the ones that deserved it, he would kill.

xXx

Tony and Pepper were sharing a drink after dinner with Rhodey in the penthouse. Pepper had been out of town for a few days for work, and Rhodey had come back from the compound with Tony after Peter’s stay to catch up with them. When they were with Peter, there was less freedom for them to talk as there was so much they had to keep secret.

Tony sometimes struggled with hiding so much from his son, but he knew it was the way things had to be. Peter couldn't know any of the truth as it was too much pressure to put on him. They could tell him they were from the future, but then Peter would want to know what the future looked like, and that would mean too many lies. They couldn't tell him the truth as that was too much for him to bear.

“So, you had a good weekend?” Pepper asked.

Though her eyes were on Rhodey, it was Tony that answered first. “It was great. Peter got better with the sparring thing once we set him up with Steve, and they actually started on technical moves in the afternoon. And—” He stopped, seeing they were both smirking at him. “What?”

"Nothing, Tone," Rhodey said. "We were just enjoying hearing your kid's report card. You want to write it down and pin it to the fridge, maybe?"

Tony threw a balled-up napkin at him. “Shut up.”

Pepper laughed. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s just… It is a little funny. You’re such a proud dad.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Tony said, brows drawn together.

“It’s not,” Pepper soothed. “It’s sweet.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey agreed. “It’s a real good look on you—fatherhood.”

Tony smiled. “You said that before, in 2023, when you first saw me with Peter. I told you that—” He stopped himself, catching the almost slip of mentioning Morgan, and said, “Yeah, you’ve said it before.”

“It really is sweet, honey,” Pepper said. “But how about you let Rhodey answer this time.”

Tony rolled his eyes but turned expectantly to Rhodey and said, “Well? Did you have a good weekend?”

Rhodey grinned. "I really did. Peter's a great kid. Even without everything we know he'll do in the future, you can see he's something special. I like spending time with him. He's fun."

Tony nodded and sipped his wine, his eyes shining with happiness. He loved that Rhodey was invested in Peter now. They all were. Peter's weekends at the compound were anticipated by them all, including Mind, who more often than not popped in at least once per visit to observe him.

“He’s special,” Pepper agreed, making another firework of happiness explode in Tony’s chest. “It’s more than what he’ll be—because that’s too hard to imagine. It’s who he is now that I care about.”

"Speaking of," Tony said as his phone lit up on the table and Peter's picture was displayed. It was a shot of him with a screwdriver in his hand and his hair messy as he examined a schematic. He was looking at the design for his web-shooters, which he wanted to perfect, and he'd been totally absorbed in the project, not noticing Tony snapping the picture. "He's calling."

Pepper poured herself and Rhodey more wine as Tony got to his feet and connected the call. “Hey, Pete. You miss me already?”

“No, I mean, yeah, of course, Mr. Stark, I just…”

“You just what?”

“This is going to sound crazy, but do you ever get the feeling someone’s behind you in the back seat?”

“Uh… nope. Have you been driving? You know you’re too young, right? Not to mention you’re a disaster behind the wheel.”

"Yeah, I mean no, I’ve not been driving, and it's not that exactly. Okay, this is probably silly, but I needed to talk to someone, and May has a double shift, and Ned would declare it a crisis and call the cops, and there's really no need."

Feeling worried now, Tony asked, “What’s happened?”

“I think someone’s been in my room. Like, things have been moved, but only a little. The whole place has a feel of something not quite right. Stuff is just a little wrong.”

“Is there anything missing?”

“No, and I checked the whole apartment. Nothing’s been taken at all. Nothing looks wrong outside my bedroom.”

“Okay…” Tony said slowly. “And it wasn’t May? I know you can be a little untidy, kid, so maybe she tried to stem the chaos of your bedroom a little.”

“No, I don’t—” Peter stopped and then laughed. “Yeah. Okay, now I feel stupid. It had to be her. She brought some clothes in, too. Usually, she just steps around the minefield and leaves it at that. I’m really sorry for calling.”

Tony chuckled. “Glad that’s all it is. And never feel bad about calling. You can call anytime. Get bored in class, duck out to the restroom and give me a call. I’ll probably enjoy the break from the tedium.”

Peter laughed. “Sure, because owning a multinational company and being a superhero is all so boring, Mr. Stark.”

“It is,” Tony said. “Pepper does all the hard work these days.”

“Sure. Thanks, though, Mr. Stark. I’ll do some cleaning in here so May doesn’t feel like she has to do it for me.”

“I’m sure that’ll make her very happy,” Tony said. “See you Wednesday.”

“Yep, I’ll be there. G’night, Mr. Stark.”

"Night, Pete," Tony said and ended the call. He tucked his phone back in his pocket and turned back to Pepper and Rhodey, who were watching him with fond looks in their eyes. "What?"

Rhodey rested his chin on his hand and said, “You know how they say expectant mothers glow?”

Tony frowned. “Yeah.”

"You're glowing, man," Rhodey said and then burst into laughter.

Pepper laughed, too, behind her hand, and came to Tony and put her arms around his neck. “Don’t listen to him, honey. We all love seeing you happy, and Peter makes you happy. Is he okay?”

“Yeah. Kid just got spooked when his aunt tidied his room and thought someone had broken in. He’s a little jumpy. He’s all good, though. He’s even going to clean it himself.”

Pepper kissed his cheek. "That's good. May will be pleased. Now, do you want another drink, or shall we put a movie on?"

“I vote movie,” Rhodey said. “I’ve got to be on the early flight back to DC, and that’d be better without a hangover.”

“Good plan,” Pepper said. “You choose the movie, Rhodey, and I’ll get us some coffee. You, honey, can pop the corn.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Tony said. “Anything you say.”

"So much more obedient than he used to be," Rhodey quipped, and Tony flipped him the bird. "Must be fatherhood."

“Must be,” Pepper agreed. “Another reason to love Peter.”

Tony hid his smile behind his hand and headed into the kitchen. It wasn’t quite there yet, Pepper and Rhodey didn’t really love Peter yet, but they would.

It was only a matter of time before they were the family they were supposed to be. 

Chapter Text

Bucky got off the subway at Eighty-Sixth Street and made his way up onto the street, hands tucked in his pockets, perfectly relaxed, and lips tugged up in a smile.

It was his first time coming into Queens as an innocent man, and the freedom of it felt amazing. He’d told the others where he was going, acknowledged their requests to pass on their greetings to Peter, and set out without needing even the flimsiest of disguises.

He was going to visit Peter without risking anything at all.

He reached the street and wandered along the sidewalks, comfortable around people for the first time in a long time. Perhaps since before the war.

It was a nice feeling.

He listened for the sounds of Peter’s webs, anticipating the surprise he was going to give him. He thought about going to his apartment to see him after he got out of school, but he’d not yet been introduced to May Parker, and he thought it should happen in more controlled circumstances instead of just arriving.

He passed the place Peter raved about, Delmar’s Deli & Grill, and he decided to stop inside to get a look at the place for himself. A bell tinkled above the door as he opened it, and he was greeted by a man with greying hair and beard and a distracted smile as he rang up a sale. When the woman at the counter had her food and made her way to the door, the man serving, surely Mr. Delmar, looked at Bucky and his mouth dropped open.

"Dios Mio," he said, placing a hand on his heart. "Sergeant Barnes!"

Bucky was wary, as not everyone accepted the verdict, but the man’s bright smile that followed eased his mind.

“Ahh, if only Peter was here,” he said, shaking his head. “That boy raves about you. He would report on your trial to me every day.” He leaned over the counter and held out a hand to Bucky. “Hemky Delmar. I am very pleased to meet you, Sergeant Barnes. I too followed your case, and I celebrated your verdict."

Bucky beamed and shook his hand. “Good to meet you, Mr. Delmar. And thank you.”

“Yes, yes, I knew that they could not find you guilty if there was justice, but this country…” He waved a hand. “Justice is sometimes blind.” He smiled again. “But what brings you to Queens?”

“I heard about your sandwiches from a friend,” Bucky said. “I thought I should try one.”

Mr. Delmar gestured a hand at the menu on the wall and said, “Of course. On the house. What would you like?”

“I can pay.” Bucky reached for his wallet.

“No! This is my way to celebrate your freedom.”

Bucky thanked him and said, “My friend says the Number Five is the best.”

Mr. Delmar narrowed his eyes a moment and then said, “Extra pickles and extra flat?”

Bucky nodded. “That’s how he says it’s best.”

Mr. Delmar smirked. “Yes, I thought so. Peter is a good kid.” He dropped his voice. “And you also know who else he is?”

Bucky schooled his face into innocence. “Who he is?”

Mr. Delmar smiled knowingly. “Yes, you know, I can tell. You do not need to betray him, though. I only know because Spider-Man saved me and Murphy when those crazy weapons blew a hole through my wall. That voice… Well, I would know Peter Parker no matter how he hid his face. He does not know, though. He likes to think he has a secret, and who am I to destroy that for him?” He shook his head, smiling fondly. “But you should meet Murphy, too. He is Peter’s friend.” He gestured to the fat cat sitting on the end of the counter.

Bucky made his way over and stroked the fluffy cat as Mr. Delmar began to prepare his sandwich. The cat purred and leaned into his hand, and Bucky smiled. He’d never had a pet growing up, as they didn’t need another mouth to feed, but he’d always wanted one. He’d imagined a dog, someone he could teach tricks, but this cat had its own endearing charm.

He wondered if maybe they could get a cat or dog for the compound when they were all home and in the right time. Peter would surely love it, and Morgan would probably enjoy it, too. Bucky knew from her rambling that she had a pet alpaca at her lake house—which was a perfectly nuts Tony Stark animal to have—but something smaller she could cuddle would be great. 

Maybe he was getting away from himself. They were a while away from being back there where they all knew each other best, and it was not the right time to get a pet now with Nemesis’ threat hanging over Peter.

Mr. Delmar came to him with a wrapped sandwich and a bag of candy, which he'd grabbed from a hook by the register.

“Peter always has gummy worms, too,” he informed Bucky. “He says they each bring out the flavor of the other.”

How that worked, Bucky wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to argue with either this kind man or Peter. He took them both, offered to pay once more, was waved away, and then said his goodbyes and headed out onto the street.

He took his snack to a bench and sat down to eat. Peter was nowhere within hearing distance, so he had time to enjoy this before moving on.

He unwrapped the sandwich, smiling at the way it had been squashed to something resembling a thick pancake, and took a bite. He’d not expected to be better than the sandwiches Peter made for them, as that seemed impossible, but it was. He could see at once why Peter was so invested in them. It was delicious.

If there was a way to do it without blowing Peter’s cover as Spider-Man, he’d get everyone here to have one and to meet Mr. Delmar. He thought they’d all—Delmar included—get a kick out of it.

He wondered what Peter would think if he knew Mr. Delmar knew his secret as Spider-Man. Bucky liked the fact he’d respected Peter’s secret, though, as it was so important to him.

He finished his sandwich and candy, then dumped the wrappers in a trash can and headed along the street again. He'd been walking about ten minutes before he heard the familiar thwip sound coming from further down the block. Content, he ambled towards it and then broke into a run as he heard a grunt of pain and a gasp.

He reached the mouth of an alley in time to see a red and blue clad foot disappearing over the roof, but he couldn't give it his attention as there was something far worse there.

A man was webbed to the wall, a brown purse at his feet, and a gun webbed beside him. Though that was not an unexpected result of one of Peter’s patrols, the blood soaking through the man’s shirt was shocking. The wound was right over the man’s heart. Bucky knew, even before he checked, that there was going to be no pulse at the throat, as the eyes were empty and glazed.

“Shit!” Bucky cursed. “Peter… What…”

He shook his head. He had to do something. Panic and questions could come later. He had to hide the evidence of what had happened. Taking a knife from his boot, which was something he always wore and had since his Hydra days, he cut away the webs. He caught the man as he fell forwards and hefted him over his shoulder. He carried him deeper into the alley and dropped him into a dumpster.

He felt mildly guilty about what he was doing—thief the man apparently was, but that didn’t make him deserving of this—but protecting Peter mattered more.

He went back and cut away the gun and tore away the rest of the webbing, leaving no evidence behind apart from the purse, which would hopefully make its way back to its owner. He dropped the gun in the dumpster, covered it and the body with some trash, and then hurried out of the alley.

He noticed dampness on his shoulder and felt a rush of horror as he realized he’d transferred blood from the body to his jacket. He tore it off and bundled it under his arm. It was warm enough for his shirt sleeves to not stand out—no more than his metal hand creeping from the cuff, at least. That was the least of his problems, though. 

His mind was reeling, and his vision was blurring at the edges. He couldn't believe what he had just seen, and he couldn't fathom the idea of Peter being involved in it. It seemed impossible.

Peter was not a killer. If there was anything Bucky was sure of in his life, it was that Peter was good. He wouldn’t end a life for no reason. Sure, the man had been a mugger, but Peter dealt with them daily, and he never hurt them at all. He went out of his way to avoid violence. Nothing could have made him web someone to the wall and stab them. It was impossible.

Unless something had happened that forced him to act against his will.

Bucky had seen it before, when Peter had held a gun on Steve, a blank look in his eyes and the command of Thuri over him. Was it possible that had happened again? How could it, though? It took weeks to program him last time, and Peter had not been missing. There was just not enough time for him to have been captured and programmed without them noticing?

“But,” a voice whispered to him, “remember the power he holds in the future… He can use mind control…”

“He never would,” Bucky answered aloud.

“No, of course, but would Nemesis? Wouldn’t it be easier for them if they could just force Peter to act in ways which made him Unworthy?”

“No,” Bucky said, though his voice was not as firm now. “He can’t be. We’d have noticed.”

“Would you?”

Bucky shook his head roughly and dismissed the voice. He didn’t want to hear what it said. He had reason to doubt it, after all. If all Nemesis needed to do was control Peter and make him murder, they would have done it a year ago, wouldn’t they?

He ducked into a closed shop doorway a little down the street and called Steve. He needed the voice of his best friend to clear his mind.

It was answered after only three rings, and Steve sounded out of breath. "Hey, Buck, I was just working out. Did you find Queens?"

“No,” Bucky said. “Not exactly. Look, something happened, and I need to talk to you.” He stopped a moment and then went on, “Just us—you, me, Nat, and Tony. Get them all to the tower. I’ll meet you.”

He wanted this discussion to be only the people that knew Peter best. If everyone else was involved… Well, the questions they’d asked in the past proved that they would doubt Peter was innocent of this, and Bucky thought their doubt would goad the others into anger. The last thing they needed was a rift developing between them.

“I’m on my way back now,” he added.

“Okay, I’ll call the others. Are you okay?”

“No,” Bucky answered honestly. “I’m really not. But we’re going to work this out. We will”

They had to. This was Peter.

“I’ll see you when you get there,” Steve said, voice businesslike.

“I won’t be long.”

Bucky ended the call and stuffed his phone into his pocket. He hurried to the corner and headed down the steps to the subway station. He tried to urge his brain into silence, at least until he could get to the others, but he couldn’t manage it.

Instead, he focused on thinking of the Peter he knew best, the kid that was Worthy, and assured himself that it wasn’t possible for anyone or anything to make him a murderer.

He was mildly successful.

xXx

Tony was confused about why he’d been summoned to his own penthouse to meet Steve, Bucky, and Natasha, but he didn't ask questions as Steve was using that voice which set Tony’s nerves on edge—the one that meant business. 

He entered his penthouse and headed into the living room where Natasha was seated on the couch, filing her nails with a look of supreme unconcern, and Steve was pacing back and forth.

“What’s going on?” Tony asked.

Steve came to a stop and fixed his gaze on Tony. “I’m not sure, but something happened to Bucky in Queens. He sounded…” He frowned. “I think he was scared. He was trying to hide it, because that’s Buck, but I know him.”

Tony’s heart jumped. “Is Peter okay?”

“He didn’t say anything was wrong with him, and he would have if there was.”

Tony nodded, not wholly reassured, and said, “Friday, any info on Peter?”

“His suit is offline,” she reported. “So he is not patrolling. I would guess that he is at home.”

Tony considered a moment, and then took out his phone and hit Peter’s contact. It was answered after a long time, and Peter sounded breathless. “Hey, Mr. Stark. Is everything okay?”

"Yeah. I just wanted to check-in. Are you okay?"

“Yeah. I just got back from patrol. I was in the shower, and the suit needs a deep clean. I was caught off-guard by a tag team of muggers and ended up skidding through the puddles beside a dumpster. I don’t want to believe I splashed in pee, but I’m pretty sure that’s what happened.”

“Okay, one, gross, and two, how did someone catch you off-guard when you’ve got that whole Peter Tingle going on.”

“Okay, one, we’re not calling it that, and two, I was busy webbing up a knife and was distracted. Now, I didn’t finish my third wash-down with May’s body scrub, which has real peach pits in it to exfoliate. She’s going to be mad when she knows I’ve used it, so I need to finish up and get some more before she gets home. If there’s nothing else you need…”

“Nope, I’m good. You get back in the shower. And remember, when you wash the suit…”

“Cool setting,” Peter said. “Yep, got it. No problem. Bye.”

“See ya, Pete,” Tony said.

He tucked his phone back in his pocket and said, “Apart from disgusting, Peter’s okay, so it’s not him that’s got Bucky worked up.”

Steve nodded curtly, and his eyes snapped to the door as it opened, and Bucky came in.

Tony knew at once that Steve’s assessment of scared was right. He’d not seen Bucky like this since Peter arrived back at the compound after his confrontation with Ego, desperately injured and weak.

He pressed a hand to his chest over his racing heart and asked, “What happened?”

It was only the fact he knew Peter was okay, that he’d spoken to him, that kept his knees from buckling.

“Is it Nemesis?” Natasha asked, her voice cool but eyes troubled. “Did you see them?”

Bucky shook his head and stopped just inside the room, as if he didn’t want to be too close to them, and said, “I found a body.”

“Who was it?” Natasha asked, still cool voiced but with troubled eyes.

Bucky shrugged. “Just a random mugger. He had a gun, but that had been…” He closed his eyes as if he didn’t want to see their reactions and said, “He’d been webbed to a wall in an alley, his gun, too, and he’d been stabbed in the heart.”

Tony’s knees did try to buckle now, and he reached out and supported himself on the back of the couch. He took two deep breaths to ward off the rising panic and closed his eyes.

“Do you think Peter killed them?” Natasha asked, no longer cool but strained instead.

“No!” Steve said roughly. “Queens would never do that!”

“He wouldn’t,” Tony rasped, eyes flying open, then cleared his throat and said, his voice almost a shout, “He wouldn’t!”

Natasha stared at him a moment and then nodded.

“Maybe someone found the mugger Queens webbed up and killed him when he was gone,” Steve suggested.

Bucky's face morphed into pain, and he shook his head. "I saw him going over the roof when I arrived. He was the only person there.”

“It wasn’t him!” Tony snapped. “Peter would never…”

“He wouldn’t,” Steve agreed.

“Not willingly,” Bucky said, voice hoarse.

Natasha frowned. “Then who could have made him do it?”

“Maybe he’s been programmed,” Bucky said, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t convinced. “Or Nemesis could have compelled him.”

“You don’t believe that,” Natasha stated.

Bucky sagged. “I don’t. He’s not disappeared for any length of time at all, and they’d have needed time with him to lay the groundwork of programming. And I don’t see why Nemesis would have waited this long to act if all he had to do was compel him or whatever to kill.” He dug his fingers into his temples. “But I don’t know how else it could have happened.”

“Friday, has Karen seen anything like this?” Tony asked. “Pete said he got dumped in a puddle of pee. Has she got that report?”

There was a pause, and Friday said, “Karen has no report of Peter patrolling at all today. She has not been online…”

“What does that mean?” Natasha asked.

Tony massaged his temples. He didn’t want to say it, but Peter had once removed his tracker and had his friend Ned break through the programming to disable the Training Wheels Protocol. Was it possible he’d done more this time? Even Peter could have done it. Tony had been training him with coding, working on Friday, so he might have the capability.”

“Tony?” Natasha prompted.

He shook his head. "It's possible he patrolled and Karen was disabled, but Peter wouldn't have done that again, not who he is now."

“We can’t know that for sure,” she said.

Tony wanted to snap at her, but the words caught in his throat. He knew Natasha cared about Peter, too, but she was the greatest tactician in them and the one with the ability to shut down the emotional connections and look at a problem from all angles.

“We need to ask Queens himself,” Steve said. “BARF. We go wait for him. He’ll come. We ask him what happened.” He nodded briskly. “He’ll be able to tell us.”

Tony didn’t stop to take a breath before crossing the room and summoning the elevator. Steve, Bucky, and Natasha followed him in, and they rode down to the lab floor then exited.

Tony strode ahead, let himself into the lab as Friday unlocked the door automatically, and went straight to the drawer where he kept the glasses. He took his own pair, threw one to Bucky, then looked between Steve and Natasha. “Who’s coming?”

It was clear that Steve wanted it to be him, but he gestured to Natasha and said, “It should be you, Nat. With us, with Queens, we can’t… You can be level-headed with him.”

Natasha nodded and caught the glasses Tony threw to her. Tony put his own pair on, but Bucky was there first, and he chose the scene. They were by the lake outside the Tool Shed again. Natasha appeared a moment later, and Tony realized this was her first experience with BARF as she looked around with high brows and curious eyes.

“He’ll know we’re here, right?” she asked.

“He’ll know,” Bucky said. “I’ve spent a lot of time with him here. He’ll come.”

As if in answer, there was a whoop from behind them, and then Peter collided with Tony’s chest as he ran forward and threw his arms around him. Tony held him close, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Peter said when he had released Tony and greeted Bucky and Natasha. “I was just talking with The Stones, and… pop… I realized you were here!” His eyes roved over them, and his eager smile slowly faded as his eyes became worried. "What's wrong? Is someone hurt?"

“No,” Tony said. “We’re all okay.”

“Not exactly okay,” Natasha said. “Someone has been killed.”

Peter's eyebrows flew up, and his mouth dropped open. "Who?"

Bucky opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again and shook his head.

“You have to tell him, Bucky,” Natasha said. “You’re the one that saw it.”

Tony wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders and kissed him again. “It’s okay, Pete,” he said softly. “We’re going to work it out.”

“Work what out?” Peter asked, his voice filled with fear. “Who was it?”

“Bucky,” Natasha prompted.

Bucky took a breath and said, “I came to Queens to see you, but… I heard your webs, then something that sounded like someone was hurt. When I got there, there was a man—I think it was a mugger—webbed to the wall. He’d been stabbed in the heart, bud. And I caught sight of you climbing onto the roof.”

Peter shuddered under Tony, his legs wavering, and Tony supported him and guided him to the rocks. He sat Peter down then sat next to him, his arm around Peter’s back and his free hand holding Peter’s cheek.

Peter sagged into his shoulder, hiding his face, and he said in a muffled whisper. “I’ve not seen yet. I only see things change when I rest alone, and I’ve been with The Stones. I… uh…” He lifted his face and looked at Tony. “Did I do that?”

“No,” Tony said fiercely. “I will never believe it was you. I know you, Peter, you’re my son, and I know you’re not capable of killing a human.”

“Peter, have you noticed anything strange recently,” Natasha asked, even her usually cool demeanor showing signs of stress. “You’ve been programmed before, so is it possible that happened again? Or is it possible Nemesis could have gotten to you.”

Peter shook his head jerkily. “No! I mean…” He stopped and ran a rough hand over his face. “I can’t think of anything, but it could have happened today. Like I said, I’ve not seen anything yet. But I can’t…” He looked between Bucky and Tony. “I can’t be a murderer, can I? Thuri couldn’t make me do it, and he had weeks to program me.”

“We don’t know,” Natasha replied before either of them could. “It’s possible Nemesis did it with mind control. That’s something you can do, and it seems she has at least some of the same powers as you.”

Peter moaned. “I’ve got to see. I have to know. I’ll go, I’ll watch, and I’ll come back. It’ll take a while. Give me a few hours. I need to see it.” He jumped to his feet and said, “Now.”

“Bud, wait!” Bucky said.

Peter looked to him, lip caught between his teeth, and then he relaxed as Bucky put his arms around him, metal fingers cradling his head and other hand rubbing his back.

“I know you didn’t do this,” he said. “I know it.”

Peter pulled back and looked at him. “I don’t know that,” he said quietly, tears filling his eyes. “So how can you?” He frowned and stared into Bucky’s eyes. “You don’t know it. I can tell.”

Bucky started to answer, voice impassioned, but Peter disappeared before he could say more than, “I know you, bud, I know you better than I know my—”

Tony stared at the place Peter had been and then sighed out a breath that caught on a sob.

Natasha placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "He'll come back soon, and we'll know for sure. Now, let's go back and see what we can find out for ourselves."

Chapter Text

As they all gathered around Tony’s living room, each in their own tangled thoughts, Steve didn’t see that Bucky was twisting his hands. He only noticed when he heard a crack, and his head snapped up to see Bucky popping his thumb back in place.

“Buck!” he said. “What are you doing?”

“And what the hell was that noise?” Tony added.

“Popped my thumb out of joint,” Bucky answered with a dismissive shake of his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Hurting yourself is not going to help Peter,” Natasha pointed out.

Bucky glowered. “No, I know that. Nothing I can do is going to help him. Hell, even he knows that.”

“Bucky…” Tony said sadly.

"No!" Bucky snapped. "He knew I was lying. I don't want to think he could have done it, it's the last thing I want to believe, but I can't help it. I saw him in that alley, I found that body, and I tossed it in a dumpster to hide the proof, and I can't be sure it wasn't him. And he knows it!"

“It’s understandable you have your doubts,” Natasha said, her voice kind. “With what you saw, you have to.”

"Yes, but it's Peter! I shouldn't even think it. He's my little brother. It's Peter! I love that kid. I should know him well enough to know it's not possible. I thought I did."

“But you know what it’s like to be forced to act against your will,” Steve said. “With your history, it’d be crazy for you to not have doubts.”

“Yeah, but now Peter has gone back knowing I think he’s a murderer.”

“He’s not,” Tony said, voice rough. “I’ll never believe that.”

Bucky began to wring his hands again, and Steve crossed the room to stop him. He pinned Bucky’s hand at his side and said, “Queens wouldn’t want that, and you know it.”

Bucky shrugged. “There’s a lot of things Peter would want and not want, and I can’t give them to him either.”

Natasha sighed. “Okay, we’ve got a couple more hours until we can talk to him, so let’s work on it ourselves. Bucky saw him on the roof, right?”

Bucky nodded.

“Yeah. He’d climbed the wall.”

“And who else can do that apart from Peter?”

Tony flinched and closed his eyes. “No one that I’ve ever heard of.”

“Is there any footage of it?” Natasha asked.

Tony opened his eyes again, and he looked fearful. "Where did it happen, Bucky?"

“Eighty-Sixth street,” Bucky said, looking just as fearful.

“Friday, see if you can find Peter on the surveillance there,” Tony instructed.

“But Peter was not in his suit tonight,” she said. “Karen was not online.”

“Just do it!” Tony snapped.

Steve had never heard him snap at his AI before, and he was shocked by the anger in Tony’s face. Though he supposed he shouldn’t be; this was Tony’s kid they were talking about.

It was Peter, who they all loved, and it was their mission. If Peter had killed, would he still be worthy? This could be the end of their plan to save him. Was it possible Peter could come back and tell them it was over, that they had failed him, and take them back to 2023 to live without him?

Steve shuddered, and his breath caught. He didn't even want to think about it.

“I have the footage,” Friday announced.

Tony took a deep breath. “Okay, pull it up.”

The TV switched on automatically, and a Queens street was revealed. Steve watched, biting down on the inside of his cheek, as a man appeared on screen, a gun in his hand which he aimed at a matronly woman. She immediately handed over her purse and backed away to a wall where she stood with her hands covering her face. The man set off sprinting, and Steve tracked his path, willing Peter not to appear.

His will failed, though. Peter swung into sight and set off running after him. The angle changed as Friday switched cameras, and they saw Peter chase the man into an alley. The view was slightly occluded by a wall, but they could see Peter clearly. He was waving his hands, head bobbing with what Steve guessed was his high-speed chatter. He shot out webs, which Steve assumed was him pinning the man to the wall, and then there was a glint of metal, and his hand plunged out of view and came back with blood on the knife.

Peter climbed the wall at the same moment Bucky ran into view, his foot disappearing over the lip of the roof as Bucky looked up.

“Turn it off,” Tony croaked, then shouted when Friday was not fast enough. “Off, Friday, now!”

The TV flicked off, and a stunned silence filled the room. Steve felt Bucky's hand tugging against his grip, and he held him tighter. Bucky was suffering, they all were, but Steve wasn't going to let him offset that pain with physically injuring himself.

“Delete it all,” Tony said, voice dead with shock. “All the footage on those streets. I don’t want any proof of Peter patrolling at all.”

“Yes, Boss,” Friday replied.

“That was Peter,” Natasha stated.

“It can’t have been,” Tony moaned. “It can’t!”

“This isn’t the end,” she went on. “If he has killed, we might still have a chance. We can all agree Peter would never do it willingly, and it’s got to be about more than just the fact he doesn’t kill. The Stones would have to see that. You said yourself he killed on the battlefield.”

“Instant Kill,” Tony said. “It was a setting in his suit. It might be different, though—they were aliens.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Work with me here, Tony! I’m trying to find a good side to this!”

Tony nodded, though he looked miserable. “I know. Sorry.”

“If he did it, it wasn’t him in control,” Bucky said. “And that’s got to make a difference. We need to talk to Mind. He’d know.”

"How do we get him, though?" Tony asked. "He only comes when Peter sends him, or he decides to pop by for a visit—which usually only happens when Peter is around."

“Then we ask Peter to send him,” Natasha said. 

Tony buried his face in his hands. “He’ll know why we’re asking.”

"Tony, if he did kill that man, he's seeing it happen right now," Natasha said. "Of course he'll know why we're asking." She took a deep breath. “Look, we’ve got two options here—we be honest with Peter, tell him why we want to talk to Mind, or we ask him if he’s Worthy himself.”

“If he’s not, he’ll take us back,” Bucky said, voice devoid of emotion. “There’s no need for us to be here if we’ve failed.”

"No!" she snapped. "We've still got time. We can make it work. It doesn't have to be the worst-case scenario here. If he killed, we can still change things. We can make him Worthy when it matters.”

Tony stared at the blank TV, bereft, and Bucky ripped his hand out of Steve’s hold and began to wring them again.

“Buck, stop!” Steve said, reaching for him again.

Bucky turned furious eyes on him. "It's this, or I start punching holes in Tony's walls. Which do you think is better?"

“None of it,” Natasha said harshly. “Peter chose you because he trusted you to do this for him. So how is it me, that doesn’t have that same level of bond, that still believes we can save him? You’ve got to be even more invested in saving him than anyone!”

“We are,” Tony whispered, then raised his voice. “We are! But we don’t know how to do it!”

“We wait until he can tell us what happened,” Natasha stated, “and then we ask how we can fix this. If anyone knows, it’s Peter, so we trust him to guide us.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not giving up on him yet, and neither should any of you.”

Tony stared at her, anger blazing in his eyes, and then he sagged, shaking hands coming to his face, and he said, voice muffled, “I’m scared, Nat.”

“Me, too,” she admitted, the first time Steve had ever heard her say it. “But I think we’ve still got a chance, so I’m going to hold onto that.”

Steve nodded. “Yes. We will.”                   

They had no choice if they didn’t want to lose themselves.

xXx

When the time finally came around, Steve, Natasha, and Tony put on the glasses again.

Bucky had said Steve should have a chance to see Peter, but Tony believed he just didn’t want to face him again after how their last meeting had gone.

Though Bucky had tried to hide it, of course, Peter had known Bucky had his doubts because he knew Bucky. Tony didn’t want to admit it to himself, he never would while his whole body and mind was screaming that it was impossible, but even he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t Peter that had killed now. He’d seen him on that video, swinging into view and climbing the wall—the obscured view of the murder—and Peter was the only known person with those abilities.

However, perhaps he was better at hiding that doubt, as Peter had not seemed to know. At least he hadn’t then. Now Tony had seen more proof, the inkling was larger, and he might see that.

Tony hoped he wouldn’t.

He took control of the simulation, taking them to the obstacle course outside the compound where Peter liked to spend time with Morgan. He thought that Peter would be happier there with the associated memories. Tony wasn't, though it did give him a strong sense of his daughter, which was a blessing, because of what he might hear soon.

He still missed Morgan, even though he’d been here so long and should be accustomed to her absence, but the thought of going back to her now at the cost of his son’s life was abhorrent. If it was what he had to do to save Peter, he would stay for every single day between now and the battle which would decide it all.

Peter didn't appear at once, and they had time to take in where they were, the differences in the compound they had now and where they lived in the future, which had been rebuilt. Tony only managed to distract himself from that for a minute or so before he started pacing.

They’d been waiting an indeterminable amount of time, long enough for Tony to start to think he might not come at all, before Peter’s excited voice spoke and he ran towards them.

Tony spun to greet him, expecting a hug, but Peter did not launch himself into any of their arms. Instead, he stood bouncing from foot to foot and beaming.

“It wasn’t me!” he said, voice high with excitement. “I saw it all. I did patrol tonight, yeah, but the only muggers I saw were a tag team that sent me flying into a puddle of pee.” He grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not a murderer!”

“That’s great, Queens,” Steve said. “Yeah, we knew it, but now you know it, too.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, but I’ve no idea how Bucky could have seen that.” His eyes widened. “It couldn’t have been another illusion, could it?”

“Could be,” Natasha said, though Tony could tell she didn’t believe it. However, he knew her better than Peter did, and he didn’t notice the false note to her voice.

Peter’s brows pulled together. “We’ve got to work it out if it was. We can’t leave them with that tech. They could do it to anyone, and that’d be awful. What if it was May they trapped? I don’t want her to go through something like that.”

“We took the tech last time,” Natasha said. “But they probably have more. We’ll look into it.”

“Thanks, Nat,” Peter said.

Tony crossed to Peter and pulled him against his chest. “I love you, Pete,” he whispered.

Peter hugged him back and said, “I know. I love you, too.” He pulled back and looked into his eyes. “What’s wrong? We know I’m not a murderer now. We’re still on the right path.”

“We do,” Tony said, pleased by the heartiness in his voice. “But I’m worried about that tech being out there. We’ll put some proper time into it.”

“Thanks,” Peter said. “I appreciate what you’re doing.” He released Tony and looked at Steve and Natasha. “What you’re all doing—Bucky, too—I really do appreciate it. I know it’s hard.”

“It’s hard on you, too,” Steve reminded him.

“It is,” Peter said. “I miss everyone. I mean, yeah, I get to see you sometimes, but no one else but The Stones apart from when I see things changing.” He bit his lip and looked back at Tony. “I miss Mo,” he said in a small voice.

“Me too, kid,” Tony said. “So much. But she’s going to be there when we get back, and it’s not like she knows we’re missing.”

Peter shook his head jerkily. "No, she's got no idea. None of them know it's been more than a couple hours because, for them, it hasn't. They're not missing anything. I am.”

“No, that’s all on us,” Tony said. “I’ll make more time to come see you here. I’ve just been so caught up in everything happening that I let you down.”

“No!” Peter said quickly. “I know how much time you’re giving me—I see it all, remember.”

“Yeah, but I’ll give you more,” Tony said, his voice making the words a promise.

Peter beamed and hugged him again. “I’d like that.”

“Can we speak to Mind?” Natasha asked, voice carefully casual. “We could do with checking in with him and the other Stones on what’s happening, too, and hearing his thoughts.”

"Sure," Peter said. " I'll tell him to keep an eye on what's going on, so he knows when you're there."

“Thank you, Peter,” Natasha said, smiling at him. “I should head back and talk to Bucky.”

“Bucky…” Peter sighed. “Tell him I’m sorry for what I said. It’s understandable he had doubts after everything he’s seen and gone through. I totally get it. I’m not angry or anything.”

“He’s probably watching,” Tony said. “But we’ll make sure he knows anyway.”

"Thanks," Peter said, then rubbed his neck. "I hate to duck out on you when you're here, but I need to rest awhile. It's been a long day—though days don't really count now in the same way. But I do need to go. I'll come back as soon as you do, though."

Tony nodded and put his arms around him, pressing a kiss to his hair. “I’ll see you real soon, Pete.”

“I’ll be here,” Peter said cheerfully, then he pulled back from Tony, waved to Natasha and Steve, and disappeared.

Tony took off his own glasses, dropped them down, and sank into a chair. He put his head in his hands and didn’t look up or join Steve’s reassurances to Bucky that Peter held no grudge. He only forced himself to drop his hands when Natasha spoke.

“He’s either telling the truth, that he really didn’t do it and someone managed to frame him, or he’s scared we’ll give up and ask to go back now since we’ve failed. I don’t think we should risk that happening.”

“He’s got to be telling the truth,” Tony said.

Natasha eyed him shrewdly. “Then someone framed him successfully. It wasn’t an illusion, was it, Bucky?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, massaging his temples. “I guess it could have been. Yeah, that could explain it.”

“We’ll prove it,” Steve said, voice filled with certainty. “I’ll go back and find the alley—if there’s no body, it was an illusion.”

“Unless they covered their tracks and dumped one,” Natasha said.

“Could have,” Steve conceded. “But there’d be other signs. A knife to the chest causes blood spatter.”

Bucky's hands dropped to his lap, and his eyes widened. "No!"

“What?” Tony asked. “Talk!”

“There was blood on my jacket,” Bucky said. “I dumped it in my room before I came up, I was going to burn it, but if we can see that it's clean, we’ll know it was an illusion.”

“Then go get it,” Tony urged.

Bucky jumped to his feet and rushed out of the room. Tony’s inkling of doubt was being pushed down now by this possibility of proof, and he relished the feeling. If his jacket was clean, they’d know—for sure—that Peter was innocent.

“Queens wouldn’t lie to us,” Steve said. “He believes he didn’t do it.”

Natasha sighed. “Like he wouldn’t take off on us without me there to help with Kaecilius? I get why he did it; he was worried. After seeing what Ego did to him, I understood why I wasn’t there because I couldn’t have protected him from it, but he essentially lied.”

“To protect you,” Steve said. “He didn’t want to risk you getting hurt. And you would have been killed if you’d been there.”

“I know,” Natasha said. "I'm just saying, there's precedent. And he would want us to save his life. He believes he's got to be there to face Nemesis because he doesn't know she won't be freed without him saving me, so he's invested in more than his own life."

“She’s right,” Tony said, his voice breaking. “He would lie, but he wouldn’t murder anyone. It’s got to be an illusion.”

Bucky came back into the room, and Tony knew at once it was bad news. If it had been good, he would have run in, beaming from ear to ear. However, his face was set with pain, and he carried a bundle of cloth in his hands. He shook it out and showed it to them, the dark bloodstain obvious.

“Blood,” Tony said, inflecting the word as a curse.

Bucky nodded. “Someone died.”

“But it can’t have been Queens,” Steve said. “It can’t!”

Natasha sighed. "None of us want to think this, me included, but we've got to be objective. Peter could be lying, or he could have been framed. If it's possible for a kid to get powers from a mutated spider, it's possible someone else could, too. Or it could be tech. Tony, do you think you could manufacture something that would enable someone to do the things Peter can?"

Tony considered. “Yeah, I think so. The webs would be tough, as that’s Peter’s own invention, but I guess someone else could manufacture it—especially if they found his formula, like someone at school, since he still makes it there in chem class. The wall-crawling… with the right equipment, yeah, they could do it."

“So there’s a chance he was framed,” Natasha said, crossing her arms over her chest and nodded. “We’ll work with that theory for now.”

“And we talk to Mind,” Steve said. “He’ll be able to back up what Queens said.” 

Bucky grimaced but didn’t speak. Tony knew he was working through his own history and trauma, seeing the possibility in Peter. After all, if he was controlled by Nemesis, they also could have altered the memory so he didn’t know.

Mind would be able to tell them, though.

“We’ll go to the compound now,” he said. “I don’t want to wait before talking to him. I’ll just call Pepper and let her know I’m going.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll call ahead and let them know we’re coming.”

“And I’ll get rid of this,” Bucky said, lifting the bloody jacket.

“Take it with us,” Natasha said. “We’ll have ourselves a little bonfire in the forest.”

Bucky nodded, jaw tight.

Tony hated they needed to do this, find proof his son wasn't a murderer and that they still had a chance to save him, burning bloody jackets to hide proof, Bucky hiding a body in a dumpster. However, they'd all known going into this that it would not be easy, and this was yet another test.

Hopefully, one they would be able to pass through intact, as the opposite was losing Peter, and Tony wasn’t going to let himself think about that. 

xXx

Vision was waiting for them outside the compound, and as soon as they climbed out of the car and got a good look at him, they realized it was Mind.

“I thought you would want to have this conversation alone,” he said. “Shall we walk?”

“Good idea,” Tony said.

He was glad they didn’t have to have this conversation in front of the others, though he felt a pang of guilt that they were hiding something from them when they were all invested in protecting Peter’s path. However, they didn’t know him as well and might believe it was true.

Even though the smallest part of Tony thought it could be true, he would not be able to control himself if others vocally judged Peter as guilty of murder.  

They reached the forest, headed into the trees, then stopped, and Mind said, "Peter told you he did not murder that man."

“He did,” Natasha said. “Are you going to tell us something different?”

“No,” he replied, making Tony breathe a sigh of relief and Bucky make a low rasping sound, which became a laugh. And then he went on and punched the breath out of Tony's lungs with his words. “However, we cannot be sure. Peter has the ability to control someone else’s actions and thoughts, and Nemesis has the same ability. It’s possible she compelled Peter.”

“And you wouldn’t know?” Steve asked, his voice harsh.

“We would not. We are not connected to Peter in your time the way we are in 2023. We have not merged with him, so we do not see what he sees, know what he knows. Peter has no memory of any kind of interaction which could have been used to control him, but we cannot be certain it didn't happen."

“Wait, Nemesis is Ross, right?” Steve said.

Mind nodded. “He is.”

"Then Peter would have noticed seeing him," Steve said, the light of triumph in his voice. "He would recognize Ross."

“If Ross wasn’t concealing his appearance,” Natasha said. “He’s got Zemo working for him, so he has access to a Photostatic Veil. He could look like anyone.”

“How hard would it be to control someone?” Bucky asked. “Is it something Peter would notice happening?”

Mind shook his head. “It takes mere touch. Nemesis could be theatrical with it, which matches her nature, but really, the touch of a hand is enough.”

Bucky groaned and hid his eyes behind his hands. 

“So, it’s still possible he’s been controlled,” Tony said, the words bitter on his tongue. “How do we find out?”

Mind shrugged. “I do not know. That is something I can’t help you with.”

Tony’s hands fisted, nails cutting into his palms. “Then what do we do? What about Peter’s path now? If he has killed, is he still Worthy if it wasn’t his choice?”

Mind looked happier as he answered. "Whether he has murdered or not, the path he is on still leads to an outcome of him being Worthy with more likelihood than not. If he is a murderer, it is not weighting the chances against him.”

“Because he can’t control it,” Bucky stated. “Good.”

Tony was relieved Peter was still apparently on the right path, but now he had a new worry. If, God forbid, it had been Peter that killed that man, he would find out eventually. He knew his son, knew him better than anyone, perhaps, and he was certain the knowledge that he’d ended a human life would destroy Peter.

“I can’t tell you more than you already know,” Vision said. “We are vigilant in monitoring Peter’s path, and I will tell you if it changes. The responsibility is on your shoulders, though. You must be vigilant of Peter. If you see changes in behavior that makes you think he could be controlled, you must act.”

“Act how?” Bucky asked. “What the hell do we do?”

“The compulsion Nemesis creates is stronger than what Peter went through after his experiences with Ross and Thuri, but it’s rooted in the same place. If Peter is controlled, he will need to be exposed and managed carefully until he is able to clear his mind.”

Tony rubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t want to put Peter through that again, and not just because it would be hard on him. The fact was, if Peter needed to have the programming wiped, it would mean he knew what he’d done. He’d have to be aware of why they were doing it.

Peter would know he was a murderer.

“And there’s really no other way to know apart from just watching him?” Natasha asked.

“Nothing we know. However, you have ways and means we do not—you have technology that you can perhaps use to monitor him.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, we can do that. Even if he has disabled his suit, I can have Friday track him. If it looks like he’s doing anything… bad… we’ll get there and stop him.”

“We’ll have to be close,” Natasha said. “We’ll have to come up with a shift schedule for his patrol times.”

“We will,” Steve said. “All of us.”

“We’re not telling the others,” Tony said, the words bitten off and harsh.

“No, we’re not,” Bucky agreed.

Steve looked doubtful, but Natasha nodded and said, “We need them all on our side without complicating it with what’s happened—we need them on Peter’s side. Right now, they all care about him and think he’s great. We can handle this amongst ourselves.”

“Thank you, Nat,” Tony said, relieved by her support.

She nodded. Tony was pleased that she was taking control of the situation, working out what they had to do, because he was lost. It took everything in him to keep his cool and not rush to Queens and drag Peter back for BARF now. It was only that it would hurt him if he did that stopped him.

Whatever happened, Peter could not find out that he had ended a life.

Chapter Text

52. Dinner and Another Death

“Steve! Bucky!”

The eager and familiar voice came from behind them, and they both turned to see Peter bounding up to them. He was grinning from ear to ear, and his eyes were shining with happiness.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“We’re looking for you,” Steve said smoothly, no trace of a lie in him, which Bucky was pleased by since their real reason for being here was slightly more upsetting. “We thought we’d see if you wanted to come for dinner with us.”

Peter’s smile faded. “I can’t. May’s pot roast… Well, it shriveled down to something that looked like a walnut, so we’re getting Chinese takeout. I was just heading back now. Hey! You want to have dinner with us? You can meet May—she’d love that! I’ve told her all about you, obviously, and she’s… Well, she’s great, but also kinda nosey—or maybe curious is the right word. If you think you can subject yourself to the questions, you could totally come for dinner.”

He blinked up at them, eager and excited, and Bucky felt no desire to refuse. There was no need for them to be on the streets if Peter was at home, so Bucky was pleased when Steve glanced at him and said, “That’d be great, Queens! You in, Buck?”

“Definitely,” Bucky said, smiling at Peter.

Looking delighted, Peter led them down the street, saying, "I hope no one I know sees me with you. Not that you're not awesome—obviously, you are—but Peter Parker hanging around with Captain America and Sergeant Barnes would raise a lot of questions. And if it got back to Flash…” He grimaced.

“We could walk ten paces behind you,” Bucky suggested with a sly smile. “Would that help?”

Peter looked like he was actually considering it, which made Bucky laugh, and then he caught onto the joke and nudged Bucky’s elbow with a fist. “Funny, man,” he said. “Though that would probably help. Never mind. Let’s go. Our place is only around the block.”

They walked together, Steve sending Bucky a fond smile, around the corner and then to a building with a white door which Peter pushed open and gestured them inside.

They rode up in the elevator to the fifth floor, which Peter hurried down then unlocked a green door and entered, calling, "May, we've got company."

The strong smell of charred meat reached them as they entered a neat hallway with coats hanging by the door and a series of family photos on the wall. Bucky looked at them, seeing Peter age from a baby with whom he guessed must be his parents to a teenager with a pretty woman with dark hair and a man that looked a lot like Peter. That was the man they'd seen when Peter had used BARF, the uncle he'd saved in the simulation but lost in life: his Uncle Ben.

The woman from the photos appeared at the end of the hall, and she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose to get a better look at them, her mouth dropping open. “Oh.”

“May, this is Steve and Bucky,” Peter said happily. “Steve, Bucky, this is my Aunt May.”

Steve strode forwards and held out a hand to her, which she shook and smiled, saying, “It’s great to see you again, Steve. I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk last time. “

“You’ve met?” Peter asked.

“Yes, after the thing with the plane, Steve was in the hospital with Tony. He was there when I… Well, he was there.”

"You mean he was there when you punched Mr. Stark," Peter said, rubbing his temples. "I still can't believe you did that."

“He deserved it,” May said.

“He did,” Steve agreed, though he and Bucky knew Tony had no choice in what had happened. It had been necessary to save Peter’s life in the future.

Bucky walked forward, a little more tentatively, and she grasped his metal hand, though he had not offered it. She showed no sign of discomfort from the cool touch, and said, “And I’ve heard a lot about you, Bucky. Peter filled me in on everything that happened. I was pleased to see your trial came to the right verdict.”

Even though Bucky had heard this before, from his friends, the diner manager, and from Mr. Delmar, it was still unexpected for him for other people to take pleasure in his freedom. He'd been the bad guy for so long that it seemed strange to now be seen as good. Even in 2023, he'd only been pardoned, and he'd rarely ventured out of the compound to see other people’s reactions. He liked it, though; it made him feel like the Bucky Barnes who had enlisted for war as a good man, fighting for his country, instead of the weapon Hydra turned him into.

“Come on in,” May said. “I’ve not ordered the food yet, so you’ll need to tell me what you want. You are staying for dinner, right? I’m not cooking, so you don’t need to worry. I’m sure Peter’s told you about my lack of skills in the kitchen.”

“He mentioned it, yeah,” Bucky said with a small smile. “But I’m pretty sure you’re better than Steve here. He’s a disaster.”

Peter grinned. “Then they’re about equal.”

May gave the back of his head a soft tap, which he exaggeratedly reacted to, groaning with pain and touching the spot as if expecting blood.

May laughed. “Sure, Spider-Man, I hurt you.”

“Maybe a little,” Peter said. “You hurt my feelings at least.”

May's face softened, and she kissed his cheek, leaving a print of her lipstick. She rubbed at it, smearing it, then said, “You should go wash that off, honey. Me and your friends will go fix the order for dinner. You want your usual?”

“Yes, please,” Peter said, darting away down the hall.

May led them into a living room with even more photos of Peter and his family and a small TV with a stack of DVDs beside it. Bucky spotted Peter's favorites—Star Wars—with a mixture of others he didn't recognize with suitably cheerful titles, which he thought were May's.

She gestured them to sit down and picked up a piece of paper on which she’d already written a few notes.

“What would you like?” she asked. “We’re ordering from Mei Kwong, and they make the best chop suey in the state, but you can have anything you like. Peter mentioned that you’ve got appetites almost as big as him, so don’t be ashamed to order a lot.”

“We’ll cover the bill,” Steve said, and when she protested, he said, “I insist. You weren’t expecting us to gate-crash your dinner.”

“I wasn’t,” she agreed. “But I’m happy you have. I know how much Peter likes you both, so it's great to finally have a chance to get to know you." She held out the pad and pen and said, "Write down what you'd like, and I'll send Peter out to get it."

Steve looked at Bucky and said, “The usual?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “I’ve got it.”

“I’ve got it,” Steve corrected.

“I’ve got it,” May said firmly.

“Mrs. Parker, that’s very kind, but we like to be the ones to provide the meal when we arrive unannounced at someone else’s home.”

May stared at him a moment, seeming to be testing his resolve, but Steve was making his ‘Captain’ face which meant there was no arguing with him—Bucky knew that for a fact.

“That’s very kind of you,” she said. “Thank you.”

Bucky hadn’t yet found a way to earn money, and he was still committed to not selling his story to any of the newspapers or tabloids which were sniffing around. Tony said he’d cover anything Bucky needed, which Bucky didn’t want, but nor did he want to spend time away from Peter unless he had to. With what was happening, what was coming, they all needed to be free to act.

He had a little money, though. He’d brought some from Romania with him—not honestly earned—and he wasn’t paying room or board at the compound, so he could get by.

Steve jotted down their order and held it out to Peter as he bounced back into the room. “You ready for food?” he asked, rubbing his stomach. “I’m starving.”

“That’s what you get with an irradiated spider bite apparently,” May said. “But I love you, super-metabolism and all.”

“Steve and Bucky have super-metabolism, too,” Peter said. “I’m not the only one.”

“Then hopefully they’ve ordered enough food to sate all your appetites,” she said. “Now, will you go call the order through for us?”

Peter nodded eagerly. “Yeah, no problem.” A frown creased his brow after a moment. “But that doesn’t mean you get to tell embarrassing stories about me or to quiz them on their life stories.”

“Like I would,” she said.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I know you, May.”

She smiled. “You do, honey. I’ll behave on the questions, but no power you hold as my nephew is going to stop me sharing stories about you.”

Peter groaned and went into the kitchen. Bucky heard him putting the call through and placing the order.

May leaned forwards, and Bucky thought she was about to break her promise of not interrogating them, but her first words dismissed that idea. "You know, I feel I owe you both a great debt. I said Peter likes you, and he does, but it's more than that. I think he really loves you. The way he talks about you both is different to how he was before. It's like you've given him something I didn't realize he was missing. Even with Tony, who I know he loves, it wasn’t this big of a change.”

Bucky saw that because he saw the changes in Peter, too. Since he'd spent time with them all as a group, he'd become more like the Peter of 2023. He wasn't quite there yet, he was still growing, but it was happening. And apparently, that growth was a part of making him Worthy, so Bucky would do whatever it took to keep that going.

Including protecting him from himself.

“We love him,” Steve said, and Bucky nodded. “He’s very important to us.”

She looked between them a moment and then nodded. “I can see that. I’m grateful for it. When Peter loves, he loves with his whole self. He doesn’t know that I know, but he was obsessed with your trial, Bucky. He would TiVo it all and watch it when I was at work—late into the night. I was scared for him, that the result would not be what he hoped for, but I saw the footage of you and Peter immediately after the verdict was read, and he was so happy. And it obviously meant a lot to you to have him there.”

Bucky remembered his reaction to seeing Peter after the verdict, how his heart and soul had been pulled towards him, making him act automatically as he lifted him into his arms. That had been the perfect celebration to him.

“It really did,” he said. "In large part, it's down to Peter that I even got that trial. We didn't know there was evidence online of what happened to me—only of what I'd done. It was Peter that brought it to Steve's attention. In a very real way, Peter gave me my freedom."

 “Yes, I can see that.” She pushed back her long hair. “Honestly, this last year has been a whirlwind for Peter and me. He wasn’t in the best place when he met Tony, still struggling after we lost my husband, but since he started the internship, he’s grown into someone so different—someone incredible that I always knew he could be.”

Bucky smiled. He could see that, too, and he knew how much further Peter was going to grow when they saved him and got back to 2023. Because that would happen. Even if his worst fears were realized, that Peter had killed the man he’d found, Mind said it hadn’t broken what made him Worthy, so they were going to have him in the future, Stones and all.

“Really, I wish Ben was here to see it,” she went on, lips turning down at the corners. “The Spider-Man thing would be enough to blow his mind. Ben was always invested in you heroes, ever since before Tony made his Iron Man announcement. It was something he and Peter shared.” She looked at Steve. “He read the Captain America comics growing up. We still have them around here somewhere.”

Bucky brightened. “Yeah? I’d love to see them.”

She got to her feet, and Peter came back into the room. "It'll be ready soon," he said. "I'll go pick it up—it's only down the street." He dropped onto the armchair, rubbed the side of his nose, and said awkwardly, "You know, I was listening to May."

“Of course you were,” Steve said with a fond smile. “Your hearing misses nothing.”

“Yeah, and I wanted to say, well…” He twisted his hands in his lap. “May’s right. I really do love you both. I know that might be weird, since I’ve not known you that long, but I do. I guess I just wanted to say, uh, yeah.” He nodded. “I do.”

“And so do we,” Bucky said. “More than I think you can understand.”

A distant look came into Peter’s eyes, as if he was mulling something over, and he opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, but then he shook his head and looked around as May came back with a box in her arms.  She set it down on the table and pulled out the first comic. It was in a plastic sleeve, and she smiled fondly and said, “Ben always said these would be Peter’s inheritance one day. They are worth a lot of money, you know?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

She nodded. “Absolutely. You were the first All-American Hero, Steve. Here, look.”

She handed him the comic, and Steve held it out to Bucky to see, a sly smile on his face. Bucky examined the cover, and his eyes widened. "I'm in that?"

May nodded. "Of course. Captain America and Sergeant Barnes with The Howling Commandoes made great stories.”

Bucky stared at himself in comic-book form, standing behind Steve with a kind of halo of sunlight around his head, as if that would make him seem even more heroic. The artist had gotten a good likeness, especially for a comic. It was strange for him to see his image in his old uniform with his shorter hair again. He knew there were photos of him and Steve during the war, he’d seen some of them, but this was different.

“Sergeant Barnes was a lot of people’s favorite,” Peter said.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, and May and Peter laughed.

"Really, Bucky. You were also an All-American Hero, but with your tragic story, you held more power to some people." May said.

“Absolutely,” Peter said, nodding eagerly. “I loved those comics when Ben would show them to me. We had to be careful, not get them dirty or creased, but yeah, those stories were great. You were great.”

“It’s easy to admire someone you don’t know,” Bucky said quietly.

May reached out and held his metal fingers between her own soft ones. “Perhaps, but I think the admiration is warranted.”

“Totally,” Peter said. “You’re awesome.”

That made a warmth burgeon in Bucky’s chest, the idea that Peter really did think that much of him. They had a bond now, they were getting closer, but it wasn’t what he had in 2023 yet—none of them yet had those bonds with him.

Steve took the comic and turned the pages, a frown marring his brow. “Do those Hydra soldiers have horns?” he asked.

May laughed. “Yeah, I guess they ran out of ideas to do human enemies, so Hydra got an upgrade.”

 “It was something to do with the serum they used on you going wrong,” Peter said. “They made them kinda mutants.”

Steve smiled and turned a page.

"I should go get the food," Peter said, getting to his feet and taking the bills Steve gave him, waved a hand, then headed out. Bucky was initially surprised he took the money, and then he realized with Peter's hearing he'd heard the conversation about the bill for dinner already and knew there were no more arguments to be had.

When the door clicked closed behind him, May leaned back in her seat and smiled. “I’m really glad you came over tonight. If nothing else, it keeps Peter off the streets for an evening. I know how good he is as Spider-Man, and I probably shouldn't worry so much, but I do. He's so young."

Bucky nodded. He understood the feeling. Peter was so young now, with the threat of Nemesis hanging over him and the possibility that he could have been forced to murder, and he was young in 2023 when he possessed the most powerful objects in existence and protected the universe.

Of them all, Peter’s life was the most complicated then and now, and Bucky could only wait and watch for the threats, that and hope and pray it wasn’t Peter that had killed. Though it would apparently not make him Unworthy, the idea of Peter knowing he’d ended a life was horrific.

For a while, Bucky sat in silence, Steve and May's voices washing over him, and he didn't snap back to the room until there was the sound of a key in the lock and then the door opened and Peter called, "I got food!"

May, Steve, and Bucky got to their feet, and May led them into a small but neat kitchen, homey and comfortable, though the smell of charred meat was stronger in there. They settled around the table as Peter took cartons from the bag and set them down on the table. He checked the cartons and said, "Okay, May, that's yours, and Steve, yours…" until they all had their food, May's serving much smaller than theirs.

Peter fetched himself and Steve a soda—when Steve said he was driving—and a beer for May and Bucky. They began to eat, Steve and Bucky complimenting the food, and Peter grinned and said, "They're the best in Queens."

“So, Steve, I heard your mother was a nurse,” May said.

“May! No interrogations!” Peter said.

“I’m not interrogating!” May said defensively. “This is dinner party conversation.”

Peter looked at the spread of takeout and said, “Dinner party?”

May rolled her eyes. “We’ve got dinner, we’ve got company, let me call it what I like.”

Peter shrugged and took another bite of orange chicken.

"She was a nurse, yes," Steve said. "She worked in a TB ward. That's what killed her. She caught it and it beat her down."

Bucky’s heart gave a small pang. He remembered how hard it had been when Steve lost his mother. He’d been heartbroken. Sarah Rogers was a good woman and deserved to have a long life. Unfortunately, fate didn’t work that way.

"It must be hard to come out of the ice and see the advances that have been made which could have saved her," May said.

Steve took a sip of his soda and considered. "Not really. I mean, yeah, I wish the vaccine and medicine were there for her when she needed it, but I'm glad other people lived because of it. There was a lot about coming out of the ice that was hard. The world had moved on, the war I fought in ended, but new ones came. Medical advances, though, are something great. Hell, when I was a kid, I had to get my asthma medicine from cigarettes."

Peter dropped his chopsticks into the carton. “Seriously?”

“Yep,” Bucky said. “I used to light them for him.”

Peter’s eyes bugged. “That’s crazy!”

“It was the only way they knew how to treat it back then, honey,” May said. “They were doing their best.”

"Yeah, but… Wow. I used to think the nebulizer treatments were bad, since they tasted funny and made me nauseous, but at least I didn't have to smoke."

“And you never will,” May said, her tone a command.

Peter shook his head and made a diagonal cross over his heart. "Nope, definitely not. I only tried it once, and that was because me and Ned were dared to, but that gave me an asthma attack, and Ned threw up.

That was apparently news to May, who looked shocked and disapproving.

“Never again, though,” Peter said, apparently oblivious to her reaction. “Gross.”

Bucky chuckled. “Good for you, bud. They used to give us cigarettes with our rations in the war, but I never got a taste for it.”

 "I get that," Peter said knowledgeably.

“So, Bucky, what are you doing with your freedom?” May asked.

“So far, not a lot,” Bucky said. “There’s things going on that I need to do, but yeah, I need to work out money. Tony’s offered to pay my way, but that’s not right. I’ve got to find a way to contribute.”

He felt eyes on him and turned to see Peter staring. “But you’re an Avenger now,” Peter stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m really not,” he replied.

“No, you are,” Peter protested. “Mr. Stark said there was a—” he glanced at May “—thing The Avengers were doing, and you’re part of that. You’re totally an Avenger.”

“You know, he’s got a point, Buck,” Steve said. “Now you’re free, we should make it official.”

Bucky frowned. Even in the future, he wasn’t an Avenger. He just fought with them.

“Make it official,” he said, tone musing. “You mean sign The Accords?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. I’m surprised no one’s come at us with it yet, but I guess Ross is busy.”

Yes, Bucky thought, Ross was very busy with Nemesis and their threat against Peter. Once he’d exacted his revenge for Bucky tricking him through that illusion, Bucky had probably become incidental to Ross.

 “We’ll talk to the others,” Bucky said.

Perhaps it would be good to make things official, but it was low down on his list of priorities. With the murder and possibility it was Peter that had killed, Bucky’s focus was fixed on him and what else might be coming.

Steve nodded, and they finished the rest of their dinner with general conversation that avoided the stickier topics.

When Peter and May had cleared away the trash, Peter asked if they wanted to watch a movie.

“Actually, we should head back,” Steve said. “We’re staying at the compound tonight, as Tony and Pepper are having a date night.”

“Yep, it’s Monday,” Peter said. “They always have date night on a Monday. Pepper says it gets her through the Monday blues—having something to look forward to. You totally have to come back for a movie some other time, though.”

“We’d like that,” Bucky said, and Steve nodded.

They got to their feet and thanked May and Peter, then headed out. Peter saw them to the door and waved them off with a bright smile.

Knowing Peter would hear anything they said until they were farther away, they didn’t speak until they were on the sidewalk.

“That was great,” Steve said.

“It was,” Bucky agreed. “May’s pretty great herself.”

Steve nodded. “She really is. And she loves Peter. It’s great that he has that, but it makes me see what he was missing after The Blip.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed. “But at least he has them in the Soul Plane—her and Ben.”

“True.”

They walked on a little farther, passing closed stores and open bars, and then Bucky came to a dead stop as he caught a whiff of a familiar metallic scent. He cursed and followed the smell into an alley. He knew what he was going to find, and he prayed it would just be a mugging gone wrong and not what he feared, but his prayers went unanswered.

Steve cursed.

The man was not pinned to the wall by webs this time, but he had been. The webs were just beginning to dissolve now. He lay crumpled on the floor, and when Bucky rolled him into his back, he saw the stab wound on his chest.

“We’ve got to dump it,” Bucky said curtly. “Get rid of the rest of the webs.”

“It can’t have been Peter,” Steve said. “He was with us.”

“This man has been here at least two hours—that’s about how long Peter’s webs take to dissolve.” Bucky tore away the remnants of webs from the man’s wrists and the walls, then hefted the body up and dropped him into a dumpster. He wiped his hands on his pants and said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“We’ve got to call Tony,” Steve said. He took out his phone and dialed; a moment later, Bucky heard Tony’s voice coming through the speaker pressed against Steve’s ear, “Hey, Cap. Tell me something good.”

“Afraid we can’t,” Steve said. “We found another body.”

Tony spat a curse. “Any sign of Peter?”

“Not on the scene, but we met him near his apartment and went to his place for dinner. He wasn’t in his suit when we met him, but he could have changed out of it as he had a backpack. This body’s been here at least two hours.”

Tony cursed again. “Where is this?”

“Twenty-first street, beside a bar called Harvelle’s.”

“Okay, Friday, search the cameras, go back two hours,” Tony said. There was silence for a moment, and then Tony groaned. “Yeah, we’ve got a Spidey-Sighting. What the hell are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replied. “I think we need to bring the others into this.”

Bucky shook his head violently. He didn’t want anyone judging Peter for this. If it was him, it wasn’t his fault. Bucky wouldn’t have them call him a murderer.”

“I’ll think about it,” Tony said. “You two coming back here.”

“No, we’ll head back to the compound. You have your night with Pepper.”

`Tony snorted. “Yeah, like I can concentrate on that now. Come here, call Nat in so we can talk. We’ve got to work something out—a way of protecting Peter from this.” There was a pause and then he cursed. “How the hell are we supposed to fix this?”

Steve didn’t answer. None of them knew. They only knew that they had to.

They had to protect Peter from himself. 

Chapter Text

Steve strode along Queens’ Elmhurst Avenue, trying to look as casual as possible. He was wearing one of the ‘disguises’ Natasha had once mocked Bucky for—a baseball cap which he’d paired with glasses—but he was aware he was still going to stand out if anyone took their attention away from the New York hustle and looked at him.

It was necessary to be here, though. It had been six days since Bucky found the first body, and there had been five others that followed it. And they still had no proof it wasn’t Peter.