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Standing just inside the entrance to the Hallow Pumpkin Farm, Peter observes his surroundings with a grin and breathes in the scent of candy apples and hot chocolate. There’s bales of hay, towers of pumpkins and elaborately dressed scarecrows absolutely everywhere, along with plenty of families and groups of friends eagerly getting into the spirit of the season.
For a second, it’s almost overwhelming. Knowing that he’d missed stuff like this for five years still sits heavily in his chest; a strange kind of sadness that rests right beside the space occupied by his grief for Ben.
Death doesn’t confuse Peter, but sometimes it does weird things to his insides; twists them like a reminder that it had won again and in a way that doesn’t really make sense, no matter how many times he hears the story from start to finish.
A hand squeezing his brings Peter back into the moment and he looks down at the little witch grinning up at him.
Warmth fills him, dispelling the bad feelings and kicking them out on their ass for the time being. "So," he says, "what do you wanna see first?"
Morgan jumps up and down in excitement, the witches hat on her head slipping down to almost cover her eyes. "The pumpkins! No, wait, let’s get candy apples!" She starts tugging on his hand. "I wanna go see the animals in the petting zoo!"
Peter laughs. "You can’t do all those things at the same time, Mo. You gotta pick one to start."
"Good luck with that, kid," Tony says as he and Pepper join them, followed closely by Rhodey, Happy and May. "If you haven’t figured out how to be in two places at once, you better get a move on because she will expect you to split yourself in half at least twice."
"Peter was the same at that age," May says. "Couldn’t bear the idea of missing out on anything for one second."
"You should be pleased I had such a thirst for discovery," Peter pouts, ducking when she moves to playfully tug his ear.
"I still haven’t forgiven you for the wandering off and falling asleep in the sale section at Victoria’s Secret incident.”
Happy blinks. "He did what?"
May grins. "Oh, yeah. Had me going out of my mind for over an hour before someone found him, all curled up, using one of the fancy bras as a pillow."
"Okay" Peter says loudly, tugging Morgan forward. "No more storytime. Let’s go, Mo!"
After five minutes of more deliberation, he finally convinces Morgan to settle for visiting the petting zoo first. They sit together in the bundles of hay amongst the bunnies and guinea pigs, Morgan giving each one an elaborate name, while Rhodey leans against the fence of the alpaca enclosure and tries to convince Tony that no, Gerald definitely does not need a friend.
Peter’s phone chimes as he’s stroking the very floppy ear of a particularly large rabbit, appropriately named Minnie by Morgan, and he pulls it free from his pocket.
MJ: still standing?
Peter snorts and types back a reply with his thumb.
Yeah! I’m kinda sore and REALLY tired but all good
You do the best stitches
Laughter leaps into his chest as she responds almost instantly with a string of emojis to emphasise how unfunny he is, then reminds him to take it easy today, dork when he sends a picture of Minnie as a plea for forgiveness. It wasn’t like he’d planned on crashing onto MJ’s fire escape last night with a knife wound to the back of his shoulder, but it was late and it was too far to swing to the tower or back home for help, and MJ’s needle work, like most things she does, is pretty awesome, so he’d hesitated only briefly before knocking sheepishly on her window. He felt bad for disturbing her, despite the look of exasperated fondness on her face when she’d let him in, but the last thing he needed was another lecture from Tony and May about an injury. The one they gave him after a bank robber got lucky and broke his wrist with a sledgehammer two weeks ago had been more than enough.
The injury twinges as he pockets his phone, the stitches tugging just enough to make him hiss in discomfort. Minnie, clearly offended, wriggles her nose and bounces away. Morgan regards him suspiciously when he smiles a little too widely at her questioning look.
"Wanna get a candy apple?”
Morgan’s face scrunches thoughtfully for a moment before she nods.
"Anyone else want a candy apple?"
Rhodey shakes his head while Tony waves a hand. "No thanks, kid. I like having my original teeth."
Peter takes Morgan’s hand. "More for us, huh, Mo?"
"I bet I can eat three without getting sick!"
"Oh no you don’t, little miss," Tony says. "Pete, don’t let - "
Peter starts jogging, Morgan giggling loudly as he yells, "Sorry we can’t hear you see you later bye!"
They hurry through the crowd, catching glimpses of game stalls, pumpkin carving and what looks like a woman dressed as a witch reading a story to a group of children sitting at her feet. The line for the candy apple stand isn’t too long but Morgan fidgets impatiently anyway, bouncing on the balls of her feet and repeatedly adjusting her hat.
"Maybe you don’t need any sugar right now," Peter teases.
"I had pop tarts for breakfast," Morgan confesses in a loud whisper. "It’s mine and Daddy’s special Saturday treat."
Peter smiles, thinking of Saturday mornings with Ben, eating sugary cereal and watching old Star Trek reruns. "That’s nice."
"You can have some too! You just have to stay over on a Friday night instead of a Saturday."
"But what about Saturday night pizza?"
Morgan pouts thoughtfully for a moment. "We could have it on Friday night instead?"
Peter gasps like it’s the best idea he’s ever heard. "Geniuses get two candy apples, you know," he declares, pulling a crumpled ten dollar bill out of his wallet.
Morgan holds her treats in each hand, alternating licking and nibbling. Peter settles for just one and uses his free hand to gently hold the back of her dress as they continue to wander around, admiring more pumpkins and making up stories for the scarecrows. They soon find May and Happy engaged in a very competitive game of ring toss, then spot Rhodey and Pepper sharing a small box of mini glazed donuts as they watch Tony attempt to win the strongman game, muttering irritably to himself when the tower doesn’t light up all the way.
"You can stay away," he says, pointing the mallet in his hand warningly at Peter.
"Afraid I’ll show you up?"
"I just can’t bear to witness you losing your wholesomeness by cheating."
Peter makes an affronted noise. "I don’t cheat."
"Kid, your very enhanced existence is cheating."
"Ignore him, Pete," Rhodey says as he reaches for another donut. "He’s just bitter because he’s already over his daily sugar allowance."
The glare Tony throws at him is positively murderous.
Pepper swallows the last mouthful of her own donut and readjusts Morgan’s hat for her. "Speaking of sugar intake, I hope those are the only two candy apples you’ve had today. The last thing I need is another scolding from Doctor Welch."
"I got a sticker the last time we saw her!" Morgan declares cheerfully.
"Yeah, and I got a leaflet about tooth decay," Pepper says. "No more candy apples today."
"You’re eating donuts!"
Pepper steps away from Rhodey and the donut box. "No more for me. Okay?"
Morgan’s face screws up into an unhappy pout. "Fine."
Peter pointedly throws his own half eaten apple into a nearby trash can. "We don’t need candy apples, Mo. We can go find some games to play instead. I bet you can beat me on all of them."
"Kick his ass, baby," Tony says cheerfully as he gears up for another swing of the mallet. It slams down hard, but the tower still doesn’t light up all the way.
Rhodey rolls his eyes and holds out his free, slightly sugary hand. "Alright, step aside. Let me show you how it’s done."
Tony clutches the mallet to his chest. "No, it’s mine."
"Oh for god’s sake," Pepper sighs, face twitching with badly concealed fondness. "Can you two please act your age?"
Tony leans away from Rhodey, using the one extra inch he has over the other man to keep the mallet just out of reach. "I am an innocent man trying to have some wholesome autumnal fun. I did not ask to be harassed like this."
"You just don’t want to share," Rhodey says, prodding Tony in the ribs and making him yelp.
"Come on." Peter tugs on Morgan’s hand as she giggles. "They’ll be doing this for a while."
"I wanna see who wins!"
Peter grins. "I think we both know your uncle Rhodey will win."
Morgan laughs again and waves to an exasperated Pepper before taking the lead and pulling Peter back into the crowd. They find the band that’s been playing catchy rock tunes since they arrived and watch for a couple of songs, Morgan dancing unashamedly with a few other children while Peter adopts a more subtle head bobbing approach, unwilling to do anything more as his shoulder throbs in reminder.
"Look, Petey!" Morgan suddenly shrieks during a lull in the music, already pulling on his hand. "A ghost train!"
Even from this distance, Peter can see that it’s rickety and shabby looking with old beaten up carts decorated with badly drawn cartoon vampires and ghosts. The track beneath the carts disappears underneath a pair of doors painted with the words ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE. There’s a guy dressed as a skeleton standing by the carts who waves cheerfully in their direction as they walk over.
"You sure you wanna go on that?"
"Uh huh! Uncle Rhodey says Daddy got scared when they went on one together a looong time ago."
Peter snorts as the image of a terrified teenage Tony and a hysterically laughing teenage Rhodey comes to mind. "And that’s a good thing?"
Morgan shrugs. "Daddy’s silly," she says, like it explains everything, and Peter supposes it kind of does.
He regards the ride curiously. It doesn’t look all that creepy, and considering the small size of the building the tracks lead into, the whole thing can’t last more than a couple of minutes. There’s no signs of any traumatised children nearby so Peter figures it’s safe enough and digs around in his pocket for the other crumpled ten dollars he knows is in there somewhere.
"Thank you," the skeleton says joyfully as he accepts the money, hands Peter his change, then beckons them towards the cart at the front. Making sure they’re properly seated, he grabs hold of a nearby lever. "Please keep all arms and legs inside the cart at all times." He gives them a wicked grin. "And don’t forget to scream!"
The lever cranks down and the cart shoots forward, drawing an excited squeal from Morgan as they bump through the doors and straight into pitch black darkness.
For the first few seconds, Peter doesn’t react, surprised but not too bothered by the sudden loss of sight. He looks around expectantly, waiting for something to jump out at them as Morgan squeezes his arm in jittery anticipation. A few candles spring to life on the walls, throwing eerie shadows around them, and an overly loud creaking comes from somewhere ahead.
Then a cold wind sweeps across him and all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Heartbeat quickening with rapidly growing dread, Peter tucks Morgan closer to his side just as a bright orange light bursts in front of them, accompanied by an intensely loud crackle of lightning that seems to zigzag directly through Peter’s chest.
Titan , his brain suddenly screams, he’s back on -
Peter shakes his head. No, it’s not Titan, it’s a dumb ride on Earth, and Morgan is right here beside him, clutching his arm and giggling shrilly as some kind of raggedy ghost drops out from the ceiling.
"Look at that, Peter!"
A white light flickers on and an animatronic vampire leans out from the right, making Morgan jump, it’s evil cackle reverberating all around them. The light goes off and once again they’re plunged back into that suffocating darkness.
Peter takes a deep breath and grips the edge of the cart tightly. He knows this is all kinds of stupid. Two days ago he was devouring pizza and watching movies with Ned; yesterday MJ was cleaning blood from his shoulder and this morning, the smell of Happy’s blueberry pancakes and May’s soft laughter woke him up. There’s no way any of that was just a dream; no way that he’s anywhere else but here.
Morgan gives another squeal as the cart spins round, blaring sirens followed by pulsing flares of electric blue and Peter shuts his eyes; tries to steady his breathing as it starts to catch in his chest; tries to tell himself that he’s not on Titan, it’s not Titan, he’s home, it’s okay -
A manic laugh rings out, followed by more cold air, thunder booming from all directions, everything bouncing between blind darkness and rusty orange that look like the skies that loomed above Peter as he died, as more and more of him turned to dust in Tony’s arms, and the last thing he saw wasn’t Tony’s face, but endless orange, stretching on and on forever as he faded into nothing.
Gone, trapped, lost, no air - no air - he can’t -
All at once, every sense in Peter’s body erupts into fire, his very skin burning, eyes jammed shut, the inside of his skull throbbing while a high-pitched ringing erupted deep in his ears. His mouth tastes like warm metal and his lungs ache for breath. Something touches him and he cries out, buckling in on himself.
Not dust not titan not real titan dust real titan trapped breathe dust can’t breathe can’t breathe
Peter feels himself move but it’s impossible to know what begins and ends where, because every part of him is trying to pull itself apart, the sensation of vanishing into nothing consuming him whole.
Titan titan titan titan
He thinks he’s crawling, scrabbling desperately on the dusty ground, because it’s everywhere, flowing off him in endless waves as the breeze catches and blows him away until there’s nothing left, nothing but dust in the wind -
Something small falls upon him and suddenly Peter can breathe again; the knowledge of his still solid form allowing him to take sharp, shallow gasps of air that rattle in his chest. The weight on his back is talking, muffled words he can’t understand, and there’s footsteps moving closer, more voices coming in quiet, rushed tones while a hand settles firmly on his arm.
"You’re alright, kid, you’re okay."
Tony.
"Just focus on your breathing, honey. Slow and steady."
May.
The weight on Peter’s back vanishes after Tony murmurs, "You did a great job, baby. Go with Mommy, go on, Peter’s okay," and then gentle hands are helping him up and guiding him somewhere. He can smell the coconut of May’s shampoo and the soft metallic tang of Tony’s cologne. It makes his chest ache, mixing with that sadness that sits beside the grief until it’s like an anvil leaning against his heart.
Those gentle hands ease him down onto something scratchy and hard, maybe one of those bricks of hay scattered around the place, and Peter manages to blink open his eyes as he’s sandwiched between warm shoulders, coconut and metal tickling his nose as he breathes in deep. May and Tony’s faces come into view, the pair of them kneeling in front of him, their expressions concerned but trying to appear reassuring judging from the tense smiles they’re giving him.
"Hey, there he is." Tony gives the back of his neck a firm rub. "How you feeling?"
"Morgan," Peter rasps. "Is she - "
"She’s fine. Worried about you, but I think Pep is about to scrap the no more sugar rule so she’ll be sufficiently distracted and running riot pretty soon."
Peter sighs loudly, relief seeping through him. May’s hand sinks into his hair and he leans into her touch, closing his eyes again as the soft scratch of her nails across his scalp banishing more of the lingering panic and dread.
"You wanna tell us what happened?" she asks gently.
"Thought I was...back there. On…" Peter grits his teeth. "On Titan."
He can count on both hands the amount of times he’s spoken the name of that place out loud since he came back. Not just for his own sake, but for Tony’s too, he’s referred to it as ‘that place’ or ‘back there’ instead, something that Tony has mirrored in almost every conversation they’ve had about what happened, like not saying the name somehow serves as a defence against it all.
Peter opens his eyes to look at Tony, finding the man looking back at him with a painful kind of understanding, silently waiting for him to continue.
"The...there were flashing lights and the - the fake lightning was really loud and - I don’t know, it just happened so quickly," he says, gut churning with embarrassment. "I know it sounds really stupid."
"Nope," Tony says firmly while May shakes her head. "No, it doesn’t, kid. Not at all."
"I can’t even handle a ghost train for little kids," Peter snaps, suddenly furious, eyes burning with angry tears.
May’s other hand comes to rest on his face, holding it gently until he meets her gaze. "I still can’t watch anything that has guns in it. Is that stupid?"
Peter frowns. "What? No, no, of course not - "
"Stars still scare me," Tony says. "Looking at them for too long, spread out in all that blackness…" he trails off with a shudder. "That’s something I’ve carried since way before we ended up in space together, kid, and it’s something I struggled to accept for a long time. Doesn’t make it stupid or pathetic or any of the other things your mind is telling you."
Peter looks at him, taking in all that’s changed since they first met, back when Tony was hurting and desperate and Peter was too starry-eyed to realise just what he was getting himself into. The man crouching in front of him carries the evidence of his battles for all to see; scars shining silver down his cheek and gleaming red metal for an arm, but Peter knows that Tony’s been fighting internal wars for all of his life. Tony’s lived and breathed trauma, ran from it as much as he barrelled headfirst into it, and his advice for such things has always been valuable and necessary. Peter knows that Tony is right, and yet the frustration and anger, the nagging fear, prevents him from fully believing it; from fully accepting the comfort he really wants right now.
"It’s not linear, Pete." Tony’s hand settles on his uninjured shoulder. "You know that better than most."
"Yeah," Peter palms his face roughly, "but a bunch of sound effects and flashing lights shouldn’t scare me."
"If the world was fair, no, they shouldn’t," May agrees.
"It’s only been a year, kiddo. What happened was something unparalleled. It’s gonna shit you up every now and then."
Peter smiles weakly as May nods in agreement. "He’s right, baby. You’ve been through so much."
"So have you."
Her expression darkens slightly with sadness. "Reason a million and one why I’m glad I didn’t have to stay behind while you were gone."
There’s a sharp twist in Peter’s chest as his heart lurches, for May as well as Tony who looks away for a moment with a sniff. As screwed up as it is to be dead and come back to life, he imagines it was better than the alternative in a lot of ways. From all the late night conversations he’s shared with Tony, Peter knows that the joy of marrying Pepper and having Morgan had been tainted with guilt; guilt for surviving, guilt for trying to move on, guilt for feeling happy, and a sense of loss that never truly went away.
Peter remembers the months after Ben died, when the agony of loss wasn’t so fresh but the burden of guilt was like carrying a mountain, so heavy and relentless. He knew Ben wouldn’t have wanted them to be unhappy, but going on without him, experiencing good days, laughing - it all seemed so wrong when someone who was so important wasn’t there anymore.
Sometimes, it still does.
"It’s no picnic," Tony says, giving Peter’s shoulder a squeeze. "You have to take all the good you can from the bad. And more importantly, let yourself feel those bad days so that you can get past them, you know?"
"And keep talking," May adds. "I know we’ve all done that a hell of a lot, but that doesn’t mean anyone is going to stop listening, okay? Especially us."
Peter nods, an exhausted kind of acceptance washing over him, mixed in with that permanent sensation of love that he carries for both of them.
May narrows her eyes slightly. “And that includes telling us when you’re injured.”
Peter winces, then offers them both a sheepish smile. "You, uh, you know about that, huh."
Tony and May roll their eyes simultaneously, a habit they’d recently developed that seemed to become more in sync as time went by. Like it can sense it’s being talked about, the injury flares sharply, followed by the telltale itchiness that always starts when his skin begins healing over.
"Stitches?" Tony asks with a jerk of his chin. "They holding okay?"
"Seem to be." Peter wriggles his shoulder slowly and sighs. “This sucks. I can’t ride ghost trains anymore."
Tony snorts. "I wouldn’t be too upset, kid. You can be on candy apple duty, and maybe we can call you in for the rollercoasters at the theme parks instead."
May elbows him in the side. "Why, did you get scared on those when you were at college too?"
"How many times do I have to tell you all to not listen to a word Rhodey says? The man gets his kicks out of picking on me."
"Hm, sounds like fun."
Peter can’t help but grin as they bicker, and catching a glimpse of Morgan running towards him with yet more candy apples clutched in her no doubt sticky fists does wonders to alleviate some of the tension still clinging to him.
He can’t forget Tony’s words though. They whirl quietly through his head as the rest of the afternoon passes in a much more peaceful trail of pumpkin picking and hayrides. Even during dinner at the cabin, he can’t seem to shake them free from his mind.
Sleeping proves impossible later that night and after much pillow punching and scrolling mindlessly through his phone, Peter creeps quietly down the stairs, pausing when Happy’s loud snoring stutters as he steps on one of the creaky floorboards . He isn’t surprised to find Tony still awake, but he is surprised to see the man sitting out on the porch. Grabbing his coat and his shoes, Peter eases the front door open and heads outside. Tony gives him a smile but doesn’t say anything; merely settles his arm across the back of the porch swing so Peter can flop beside him, then hooks it carefully over Peter’s shoulders.
They don’t say anything for a while. The gentle rasp of the lake against the shore twines with the soft brush of the wind through the trees, settling over them like a blanket, so quiet and tranquil that Peter instantly feels tired.
"Mister Stark?"
"Mm?"
“Did you look at the stars while I was gone?"
On the surface, it might seem like a stupid question. They’re in the sky every night, so easily visible out here instead of blocked out by the smudgy glow of the city lights.
It feels like forever has passed by the time Tony sniffs softly and says, “Kid, I did absolutely everything I could to avoid thinking about you."
"Rude."
Tony huffs. "You know what I mean. The world was a mess. I was a mess. And then I had a baby on the way and…" he sighs deeply. "The only way I could function was to not think about you, and anytime I looked up, all I saw were my failures." His arm tightens infinitesimally around Peter’s shoulders. "All I saw was you."
It hurts to think about it all; aches like an exposed nerve that, despite how many times they’ve talked it over and over, doesn’t quite settle, constantly raw and tender. There’s so much loss, so cavernous and deep that it’s hard to breathe when thinking about it.
"Are we ever gonna be okay?"
"What do you mean?"
Peter looks down, watching his fingers as they twist with a loose thread on the hem of his jacket. "I mean...it’s been a while, right? Longer for you than me, and I feel like we’ve been pretty lucky. We’ve still got the people we care about. I’ve got May and you, we all ended up back together somehow, even me and Ned and MJ, and that’s, like, completely insane but it’s good. Better than good."
"Uh huh…"
"I know it’s not linear, like you said, but even though everything worked out for us, I still feel…It still hurts sometimes, and I guess I thought it wouldn’t by now."
Tony’s voice is tinged with sadness as he murmurs, "I know, bud."
"So I guess I’m just wondering if one day, it’ll just...not be a thing anymore, you know?"
Tony hums. "Nice as it would be, I don’t think this is the sort of thing that ever truly goes away."
Peter already knows this, even though he’s been hoping for something else. His grief for Ben, though not as razor sharp as it once was, still catches him out every so often; a furious ache that spills out of that specially reserved place when there’s a reminder, a memory, or sometimes for no reason at all except that Peter misses him so much.
So he knows it never goes away, and he can live with that, he can, and he knows time will always be the greatest healer of all, but on days like today, it’s not enough.
"It didn’t go away for me when you were gone. Some days were so hard that it’s still a mystery to me that all of us managed to keep going like we did." Tony’s hand pats his shoulder firmly, a grounding kind of touch. "But you know, I think as far as happy endings go, we’re not doing too badly. They never show the aftermath in the movies, you know? I’m sure all those princesses argued with their fellas." Tony shrugs. "There were definitely more aliens after Aliens, and I bet that kid who won the chocolate factory ended up with a horrific dentist bill."
Peter’s laughing quietly now, even as his eyes sting with unexplainable tears.
"Seriously, imagine eating all of that chocolate. He’d have dentures before he hit thirty."
"Stop," Peter whines. "You’re not helping."
"Sorry." Tony shifts so they’re facing each other and his metal fingers touch Peter’s cheek to swipe away some of the tears. "You wanna know what I really think? If we’re really gonna be okay?"
Peter nods, heart suddenly thrumming even though he can guess what Tony is going to say.
Tony smiles, the warm, gentle kind that softens the lines by his eyes and makes them twinkle. "Yeah, kiddo, I think we are. Ghost trains notwithstanding."
And even amidst all the lingering heartache, Peter doesn’t hesitate to believe him.