Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tony Stark woke up the same way he had for the past several years, a familiar location, a familiar room, a familiar bed. It was his and Pepper’s room in the cabin, their cabin in the woods, a hide-away from the world and everything in it. Everything except him, Pepper and Morgan. And occasionally Rhodey and Happy, when the occasion came for it. 

He woke unsettled, the remnants of a nightmare — of Peter Parker, slipping out of his clutch, slipping away into dust, as he always did in Tony’s dreams. And as he had done in reality, too, Tony reminded himself, and then shook his head. Tony felt the urge to pull himself out of bed, run to find Morgan, to grip Morgan in his arms, to make sure she was still there, never to leave him. To make sure the Blip hadn’t happened again in his sleep, that he hadn’t been left again as one of the unlucky half that remained. But he stilled, blinking out of the sleepy haze that had come over him upon his wake.  

He touched the bed covers, marvelling at their softness, marvelling at everything, really, the glow of sunlight seeping in through the small windows, the clarity of everything. Then he paused, hand on the sheets, still sat in bed, and frowned. Something felt wrong — something felt different. It was like he was waking up in the normal routine, the nightmare, shooting up in bed alone in the morning, no Pepper because she’d already gone downstairs to do work, answering calls for the company’s sake…and yet, something was off. It wasn’t quite right. 

The room was too clean, possibly that was it. None of his clothes were scattered across the floor as they often were, only a neatly-stacked pile of Pepper’s t-shirts on the chair they kept in the room for some reason, decoration possibly. Pepper was the interior-designer of the pair of them. All Tony had cared about was having free rein over his lab. And having FRIDAY installed in the house. Nothing else mattered. Just them, safe, away from the world. 

Tony had put a suit of armour around his world. 

He frowned again, scouring his eyes across the room for clues. Was it Pepper’s birthday? Was that why he felt on edge, uneasy. Morgan’s? No, he would remember if it was his kid’s birthday, surely. There must have been something. 

Tony reached over with one arm to roll his shoulder around, a morning habit. His arm ached as he flexed it to reach his shoulder, and he ran his other hand down it then clicked his thumb and his middle finger together to try and stop the sudden jabbing pain in his arm, and the memories rushed back at him.

The time travel, the battle — the final battle. Bruce bringing everyone back, everyone alive again — everyone who had gone, he’d seen them for the briefest second, Sam Wilson, Hope van Dyne, Stephen Strange, Peter Parker. He’d gripped Peter in his arms in the way he hadn’t been able to for the past five years (five years without him, five years of quiet reflection, five years of swallowing the cold hard truth that he thought of Peter Parker like his son and had lost him on an alien planet, his only remorse knowing that May had, too, been blipped and that he didn’t have to tell the kid’s aunt that Tony had lost him, and there was nothing he could do to get him back). 

And then — Stephen Strange, holding up that damned finger, the realisation that there was no other way, that there had only ever been one way and it had always been for him to die setting in. Glancing at Pepper, the stabbing pain inside of knowing he’d never get to see his kid — his kids, Peter included — grow up. 

Tony Stark had snapped his fingers, arm encased in the gauntlet with the most powerful stones in the universe, one last quintessentially-Tony-Stark quip to the son-of-a-bitch alien who’d haunted him for years in his mind, and had watched that bastard turn to dust the way he’d seen his son turn to dust when he held him in his arms five years prior. He’d smiled, then, and had felt it — felt the impending death. 

And yet…there he was, sat in bed, alive and kicking, after everything. 

He swallowed. 

Tony had accepted death, in that moment. His death in order to save the fate of the universe had seemed like a fair trade, he’d bitterly accepted it with a nod of his head to say, ‘Fuck you, Dad, I amounted to something in the end’. He recalled it, the grim determination in his head, despite the regret, knowing that it was the thing to do, knowing it was his reason for being, knowing it was the only way. 

God, it wasn’t right, him being alive. Something had happened, some glitch in the matrix, and thus there he was, marvelling over the feel of bed sheets and the aches in his arms. Tony had been destined to die, but the grim reaper had raised an eyebrow and had spat him back out of hell. 

It wasn't right, but Tony sure as hell wasn’t going to waste it. 

It made sense, then, the lack of his clothing in the bedroom, the cleanliness, the slight changes. He must have been out for a while, possibly several weeks in hospital, Tony imagined, from the jolts of pain that shot through him whenever he moved his arm. And he’d just been moved back, possibly had just woken for the first time…

Maybe Pepper had requested that he wake in the cabin, for the sense of familiarity. That had been a good choice, Tony reflected, because there were few things in the world he hated more than hospitals. 

He swallowed again, throat tight, and climbed out of bed, trying not to put pressure on his arm. Tony was in light clothing — the same clothing as he wore underneath the Iron Man suit for fights, but again, possibly it had been a choice of Pepper’s to set him at ease upon waking. Tony glanced at himself in the mirror, noted the scarring on his arm and opened the door.

He padded down the stairs slowly, a frown covering his face as he took it in, the cabin. The same warm glow from the bedroom followed down to the downstairs of the cabin, too, and there was a decorated fir tree tucked into the corner, a fire lit in the fireplace by the couch and baubles hanging from the ceiling, no doubt a choice of Morgan to implement, because no way would it have been Pepper. The corner of Tony’s mouth quirked into a smile just imagining the conversation. 

The tree, and the collection of baubles scattered around…

“It’s Christmas,” Tony muttered under his breath, his fingers sliding over the paper-cut outs of trees that draped along the banister of the stairs, the realisation hitting him that if it was Christmas, then he’d been asleep not for weeks but for several months, in fact. 

It was too quiet for anyone to hear, just a revelation he had to voice, a revelation that was spinning around in his head, making connections to things he didn’t want to think about. 

And then he caught a glimpse of Pepper. 

There she was, breathtaking as always, sat at the kitchen table, stacks of papers around her, on the phone, speaking like she was the most important person in the world (she was). Always hard at work, so dedicated, dedicated in the same way Tony was to his tech, in the same way Howard had been to the company when Tony was a child — but Pepper wasn’t like Howard, no, never.  Tony had asked her if she wanted to resign, once, in the early weeks after Morgan had been born. She no longer travelled into New York every morning for the sake of attending unhelpful board meetings where half of the attendees had been blipped, but she liked to keep herself busy. 

He waited for her to hang up the phone before speaking. 

“Pep,” he said, then, still on the stairs, soft, intent on making her turn around but not scaring her. 

Pepper had been sorting documents, but she froze and then spun in her chair immediately, his name tumbling out of her mouth. “Tony?” 

Tony had expected surprise, he hadn’t expected the harrowing look on her face, a look that held shock but also grief, delight but also immediate confusion. He set about calming her. 

“Hey, Pep,” he mumbled again, a smile dancing across his face. “Wake up time for me.” 

Pepper’s face went pale, she stood up, grabbing at her necklace — a birthday gift from him which had a little strawberry on it, because Tony had thought it hilarious — and took a step towards him, towards the stairs.

“Tony—you—this can’t be real.” She spluttered, shook her head, squeezed her eyes closed, turned away from him.

Tony had planned to descend from the stairs, to encase her in a hug, an embrace, but he faltered, static on the stairs. She didn’t seem—pleased. Not as he’d expected. 

And then—

His little girl ran into the room and Tony’s throat was tight, tighter than it had been since he’d woken. His girl, his Morgan…she’d changed, her face was less round, eyes slightly dimmer than the brightness from before. A rush of guilt swept through him, for missing it, for missing her growing up, then a wave of confusion. She was tall, much taller than he last remembered. How fast did kids grow, at that age? Was it really that fast? 

She ran into the room, a toy in hand, clearly coming to ask her Mom something, and then stood still as she saw the state of Pepper, spun around herself and Tony watched—watched as Morgan saw him, the change in her face. 

Morgan dropped the toy, expression absolutely elated, and ran towards him, “Daddy!” 

Tony’s heart broke as Pepper reached forward and grabbed her by the shoulder, not roughly but enough to hold her back, to keep her from approaching Tony. 

“Wait, Morgan,” she said, voice uneasy, “We don’t…we don’t know that’s him.” 

She didn’t think it was real—she didn't think Tony was Tony. 

Tony frowned. The look on her face, the disbelief. Something was extremely wrong with the situation. Morgan looked up at her mom, back at Tony with blinking eyes as though she was containing tears. 

“Don’t know it’s me…” Tony exhaled, “Pep—it’s me, it’s me.” 

“This better—this better not be some…” Pepper searched for the word. “Some joke…or some tech that you made…before you…” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

“Before I what?” Tony echoed, unsure. 

“Morgan,” Pepper ignored his query, her voice still wobbly, hand still on Morgan’s shoulder. She looked at Morgan. “Do you mind going and playing with your toys?” 

“Are you sure, Mom?” Morgan whispered, a ghost of a voice, looking between Pepper and Tony as though she didn’t think it was a wise choice. 

Pepper nodded mutely, and Morgan walked away from them, her eyes still trained on Tony as she wandered to the other side of the room and sat next to the pile of toys— as well as DUMM-E, who, for some reason Tony couldn’t fathom, was in the living room near to the tree. 

“It’s me, Pep,” He promised again.

“Tell me something,” Pepper looked resolute in her decision, confident, steadfast. She was strong— always strong, had always been stronger than him. Tony would have caved immediately if the position was reversed, he wouldn’t wait to check.

Tell me something only we would know.

“Happy carried our engagement ring since 2008,” Tony blurted out. And then, well, in for a penny and in for a pound, after all. “You gave me my original arc reactor back in a frame to prove I had a heart, and that heart belonged—belongs to you, always has, always will. You’re my world, it’s me, it’s really me, I promise.” 

“Tony…” Pepper’s face was—well, Tony couldn’t describe it exactly. It was a combination of too many emotions. Tony took several steps down until he was off the stairs, on the hard-wood floor, his sock-encased feet padding closer to his wife tentatively. 

“Hey, Pep,” Tony whispered, and encased her in a hug. Pepper clung to him — there was no other word for it — it was the kind of hold that made you think she would never let go, the same hold as when he’d clung to Rhodey after his best friend found him wandering the sandy deserts of Afghanistan after months of torture. 

“It’s you,” she murmured into his shoulder, her body relaxing as Tony did his best to comfort her. He shot a look at Morgan, who was playing with her toys still but keeping a close eye on them. She looked like she wanted to run over and join the hug, but clearly understood they needed a moment. He wanted nothing more than to hug his little girl, too, but first he needed answers. Clarification. Tony tore his eyes away from her and back to Pepper, pulling away from the hug slightly.

“How much—how much did I miss?” Tony said, throat sore. “If it’s Christmas…that’s…months…I’ve been…asleep? For months?” 

Pepper looked at him, a face of nothing other than pity adorned on it. “Honey,” she said, in a low voice. “It’s 2024. December 2024.” 

Tony started shaking his head immediately, because, no, fuck no. He refused to believe he’d abandoned Pepper — abandoned his family for that long. A year — more than a year — in a coma, of sorts?

“I’ve been asleep for that long?” Tony asked, wondering why, wondering how, wondering because surely if this was the first time he’d woken up in a goddamn year then there was no fucking way he would have been allowed back home, and he hated hospitals but goddamn, Pepper would have left him in a hospital if he’d been in a year-long coma. There was no way there would be a doctor that would sign off on that — no way in hell. 

She choked, then, a rough sound, and pressed a hand to her face, rubbing away the tears that had spilled. Tony took a step forward, reaching his hand out. “Tony, we buried—we buried you. We had a funeral for you—you died.”

Died.  

The word reverberated around in his head like it was an echoing tunnel. 

He’d been dead.

“Then…what?” Tony blinked, arms still on Pepper. “How am I—”

If he’d died…how was he alive? How was that possible?

“I’m just…I’m just as surprised as you are,” Pepper said, visibly swallowing. 

“Yeah…” Tony said, “I didn’t—I just woke up, thought I was in a coma. Uh—I didn’t do this. I wouldn’t know how to do this. You said—tech that I’d made before, but I couldn’t—can’t—do this.” He couldn’t bring someone back from the dead, no. 

Granted, he hadn’t thought time travel was possible before he invented it, but necromancy seemed further than that, somehow. Intangible. And yet. 

“I know, Tony,” Pepper said, in the way that said she knew, she understood, even though he was stammering, unclear. “I know.” 

“So you were without me,” Tony said, “For a year.”

A whole year. Pepper was strong — obviously — but it was clear from her face, from the emotions she was trying to hide, from the weak tether she held to stability, possibly for Morgan’s sake, that it had taken its toll on her. And Morgan—god, Tony had made the kid lose her father at such a young age, he felt the wave of guilt go through him again, because he knew what it was like, to lose a parent, and the fact that he’d made his kid go through that… 

They’d had a funeral. He could only wonder who’d been there, who’d come to pay their respects. Probably not Steve. Most of the Avengers didn’t care for him, really, he thought. It had probably been a small affair. Happy, Rhodey too, definitely. God—the Parkers. Peter would have been there—he’d made Peter watch, on the battlefield, watch him die. More grief for the poor kid who’d already had most of the things in his world stripped from him. 

Fuck. 

“For a year.” Pepper nodded. 

“Well shit,” Tony mumbled, looking around the cabin. “You’ve done a lot, I bet. And I can’t believe…the Little Miss has grown up so much.” 

“Yeah,” Pepper said with a smile, glancing over to Morgan, who was playing with DUMM-E. The bot was dutifully passing her toys.

“DUMM-E?” He questioned, pointing vaguely at him. 

Pepper coughed. “We moved him up from the lab. He was…sad, without you. Morgan slept in the lab for weeks because of it, so this was the compromise.” 

“Naturally,” he smiled, but it faded at the thought that he’d left his bots, too, left them for a year. Left FRIDAY. He was glad that Morgan had kept DUMM-E company, though. 

Something nagged at him, though, something inescapable. Peter. Pepper hadn’t mentioned him, hadn’t said a word about him, and it was one of the only things he could think about. Tony had eyes on two out of the three people he most cared about in the world, but the kid with the same self-sacrificing trait as him was no-where to be seen. 

“But…” Tony paused, biting his lip. Pepper stared at him, mouth pursed for his next words, as though she could sense something was wrong. And it was. “Where’s Pete?” 

Tony let out a chuckle at that, before Pepper could respond, slightly bitter. “God, he must be…thinking about college by now, but did he really choose to stay in New York City for Christmas? I thought we agreed to have May—the Parkers, I guess— over for Christmas every year?” 

They’d had a conversation about it, after the Blip. Their first Christmas had been so alone, so empty, just the two of them, so they’d spent it talking about who they’d invite, who was supposed to be there. Happy and Rhodey hadn’t been blipped, had remained, but hadn’t been able to make it up to the lakeside cabin for Christmas, so they’d been included. Tony had been the one to bring May and Peter up — both victims of what people had started to call the Blip, or the Snap. Pepper had nodded at him without saying a word, a promise there that didn’t need to be spoken. 

If we ever get them back, we’ll have them over for Christmas. 

Tony had ached for it— had dreamed about it, in fact. Had dreamt about Peter eating half of the enormous quantity of food on the table, of Morgan sat on the kid’s lap as they opened presents, of Peter beaming as he got something he wanted, of May making a quip to Pepper, hand tucked around a glass of champagne, as Tony and Peter disappeared off to the lab to go and tinker with their new toys. 

Clearly it was not a fantasy that had come to fruition. Tony had been dead, sure, but it was still a promise to be upheld, but Pepper seemed confused. Even if the Parkers had declined a request to come visit for Christmas, there were plenty of photos around the living room, photos of him, photos of Morgan, of Pepper. There was a sore lack of photos of Peter.

“Tony,” Pepper said softly, slowly, as though she was talking to a child. Her eyes were tinted with concern, a frown laced across her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“What do you mean—Pep?” Now it was Tony’s turn to stare. He looked at his wife in alarm, a bad feeling racing through his stomach. 

“Who’s…Pete?” Pepper said, slowly. “May? The…Parkers, did you say?” 

Ice-cold racing through his veins, a sinking feeling. 

“Pete—Peter.” Tony stammered. “Peter Parker, Spiderman, my…kid, our kid.” He said it fiercely, a fierce correction, because Pepper loved Peter almost as much as he did, had always seen him as a son, had never cared that they weren’t related. Because there was no way she would ever forget the kid with the wide smile and cheerful attitude. 

Pepper’s face contorted into a pained expression. “Our only kid is Morgan, Tony.” 

Tony shook his head. “That isn’t funny, Pep.” 

“Tony, I’m being serious.” 

He blinked. “Peter—about this high,” he held his hand up to Peter’s height, “Brown, scruffy hair, self-sacrificing, loves the lab, smart as a whip? Swings around New York? Superhero?” 

Pepper shook her head at that, “We don’t—Spiderman’s identity was never revealed. I didn’t know you ever worked with him—ever even met him.”

“No, that’s not possible,” Tony shook his head. “Pepper, you met him. You loved him. It was what convinced us we’d be good…at this.” He gestured to Morgan, swallowed. “Parenting.” 

How was it fucking possible that Pepper had forgotten Peter? How was that at all possible? How could someone forget a whole person?

“I don’t know him, Tony,” Pepper said, so soft, softer than before, an attempt at comfort. 

“No, look, we have a photo together,” Tony said, and dashed over to the kitchen without hesitation, reaching for the photo of him and Peter—the photo he knew existed, because it was what had motivated him to even consider the possibility of the time travel.

The overwhelming desire, the need, to get Peter back was what had been his main motivation for bringing the other half of the population back, and Pepper had somehow forgotten he’d existed. 

He reached for the photo, pulled it down, and was met with a photo of himself standing in front of the Stark Industries, holding up a peace sign. It was awkward—awkwardly posed, but there was only him in the shot, no-one else, no Peter.

Tony’s heart skipped a beat. What?

“I’m not crazy, Pep,” Tony put the picture frame down on the countertop, turned back to his wife.

“I never thought you were.” Pepper sighed. “If this—if you think this is serious, this is real, that you’re somehow missing a kid, that I’ve…forgotten him. We should speak to Stephen.” Pepper said, grabbing her phone. 

“Stephen?” Tony asked. 

“Stephen Strange,” Pepper looked at him oddly. “You haven't forgotten him, have you? Dr Strange, went to Titan with you, saw millions of futures and chose this one. Stephen.” 

She calls him Stephen? 

“You have his number?” Tony questioned, because he’d never really been on close terms with he sorcerer, and the Blip had ensured he never truly got to know the man. Strange had saved his life—on Titan, saved their asses, really, and then had condemned Tony to a future where he eventually died. “You speak to the…to the wizard, regularly?” 

“Yeah,” Pepper smirked. “He makes good balloon animals. Morgan likes them.”

The corners of Tony’s mouth quirked into a smile which then morphed as he bit his lip. It was—well, it was bizarre, thinking of it, that in the last year, Morgan had spent more time with the sorcerer he barely knew, than her father. 

The wave of guilt returned, sweeping, destructive. 

Pepper had her hand on the button—but as much as Tony wanted to confront Strange about the fact that his son had somehow gone missing from his wife’s memories, Tony didn’t want to call Stephen until he’d done the one thing he’d wanted to do.

“Wait, just,” He murmured. “One second.” 

And then he strode over to the living room, over to the tree, over to the warm fire, to DUMM-E and to the pile of toys, and he crouched down. 

“Hey Maguna,” Tony smiled slightly. “I missed you 3000, kiddo.” 

Morgan wrapped her arms around him immediately — gripping onto him the way Pepper had, and Tony held onto her tightly. He didn’t want to let go of his girl. 

“I missed you 3000 too,” she whispered into his neck, and Tony let out a chuckle. He let the hug continue for about a minute before pulling back. 

“I gotta go deal with something, okay,” Tony said to her in a low voice, “It’s about your brother.” 

Tony had a small glimmer of hope that Morgan’s face would light up with understanding, because although she’d never met Peter, Tony had spent hours telling her bedtime stories of her brave, brave brother the superhero. Morgan had always asked where Peter had gone, when she would get to meet him, and Tony had told her that he was on a very important mission. Every time she asked, and every time he lied to her about it, he always stumbled into the bathroom and cried in secret. 

But Morgan’s face was blank with confusion, frowning and her head slightly tilted. “Brother?” 

She’d forgotten too. Morgan had forgotten Peter. 

“Yeah,” Tony said, his voice thick. “But I’ll be back, I promise.” 

“Daddy—don’t go,” Morgan said, holding onto his hand. “Please don’t go again.” 

“I’m not—” Tony fought off every urge in him to cry, because that was so heartbreaking. Please don’t go again. Fuck. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to be right over there, right with your Mom. Promise.” 

“Okay,” she said tentatively. She watched him like a hawk as he walked back over to Pepper, still hovering by the kitchen. Tony tried to stop himself from shaking. 

“Morgan’s forgotten him too.” Tony shook his head. “Peter, I mean.”

“They met?” Pepper asked. 

“No, he was blipped, but I used to tell her stories, during the Blip, to tell her about her brother.” Tony swallowed. “She—doesn’t recall. Um—he might have met Morgan, after I…” 

Tony didn’t want to say ‘died’, in fear of what the word would trigger with Pepper. He was stepping on eggshells as it was. 

“He might have been at the funeral,” Pepper mumbled under her breath, “But if he was, I wouldn’t remember him being there.” 

“Yeah,” Tony said, his voice thick. He swallowed. 

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Pepper said, clearly seeing the toll it was taking on him. “Let’s—let’s call Stephen. He’ll know what to do.” 

Tony was still slightly freaked out by the fact that Pepper was so cavalier about calling the magic wizard by his first name, as though they were best of friends. It was almost as freaky as calling Agent Coulson Phil. 

“Stephen,” Pepper said, holding the phone to her ear. “I need you to come to the lake-house, now. No questions asked.”

She nodded, and Tony couldn’t hear the wizard’s response but he seemed to acquiesce to the request because Pepper soon inhaled and nodded at Tony. Some relief set in him — they had an expert in magic on the case. 

It was several seconds before the portal appeared, and Tony stared at it, unused to magic in the way many weren’t used to the sheer quantity of tech Tony had on him at any one given moment. He’d spent much of his life not believing in magic or anything of the sort, so seeing it come to fruition was still odd. 

Stephen stepped out of the portal, his cloak intact as always, perfectly poised for anything. As he entered the room he spoke, full attention on Pepper. 

“Pepper, what can I do for y—holy fuck,” As he laid his eyes on Tony, Strange looked genuinely shocked. He blinked, stared at Tony as though he wasn’t real, and there was a glint in his eye that Tony couldn’t quite understand.

“Tony?”  The wizard uttered. Tony didn't think they had ever really been on first-name basis but that must have been another thing that had changed since he’d been dead for the past two years.

“Hello, Strange,” Tony said awkwardly —  and Pepper shot him a look. 

“—Stephen,” Tony quickly corrected as the wizard’s face contorted in a similar array of emotions as Pepper had gone through. He revised his opinion of how little the wizard cared for him as he witnessed it happen in real time. 

“Tony,” Stephen blinked, glanced at Pepper and whispered to her, “Am I hallucinating?” 

“No,” she chuckled, “He’s really here—alive.” 

“Oh my god,” Stephen seemed flabbergasted, and there was a sense of relief there in his actions, in his demeanour, that Tony could pick up on but couldn’t quite comprehend.

Tony ignored it. “So, I was wondering,” he launched into it, “as you’re the Sorcerer Supreme—”

Pepper coughed delicately and Strange winced, “Well, not anymore.” 

“What?” Tony asked. 

“They gave the title to Wong when Stephen was…away during the Blip,” Pepper stage-whispered, filing him in. Okay, so he must have missed out on that one. To be fair, he didn’t ever have much communication with the wizards over the Blip. Wong hadn’t reached out to them — Tony had wanted a quiet life, and a quiet life was what he’d had for five years until he was back to the beck and call of Steve Rogers and the superhero gig. 

Strange didn’t make a noise to correct Pepper. 

“I’m…going to make some tea,” Pepper said. “Two sugars, Stephen?” 

The man nodded mutely, still staring at Tony as though he’d seen a ghost—oh, huh, that expression kind of fit the situation perfectly. Tony was astounded at the fact that Pepper remembered how Strange took his tea, and tried not to think about it. 

Tony corrected himself. “Okay, not as the Sorcerer Supreme, but as our resident wizard, whether you could help me with a little problem I’m having.” 

“The whole…being alive thing?” Strange said, eyes directly on Tony.

“Sort of,” Tony paused. “Is there any possibility, any possibility that I might be…from an alternate universe?” 

It was the only theory he’d come up with — that somehow, in some way, he’d managed to travel from his universe, a universe where almost everything was the same except Peter Parker existed, into this Peter-Parker-less universe. 

“Why would you believe that?” Strange asked, raising an eyebrow. He seemed to have a better hold of his emotion, but every couple of seconds, his face betrayed a second of emotion — shock, delight, awe. 

Tony swallowed. Pepper returned with the tea, handing Stephen a mug. She placed Tony’s on the countertop, and he smiled at the way the pair of them just knew each other. He never did like to be handed things, after all. 

“Well, it’s just,” Tony looked to Pepper for reassurance. “I seem to have misplaced…um, a child. His name was Peter Parker, he wasn’t legally mine but I was his mentor—more than a mentor, really, um…and I know he existed, I know he did. I’m not crazy. But Pepper doesn’t remember him.” 

“That is most odd,” Stephen muttered. “I don’t remember anything about that. Pepper — you don’t remember a thing about this child?”

“Tony says I’ve met him,” Pepper said, shrugging her shoulders, her hands on the mug. “I don’t remember anything about the kid.”

“Look, Strange, he’s gone from everything, from their memories, from photos, even. It’s just me who seems to remember him.” Tony paused, thinking. “Hold on—you’ve met him, too.” 

“Um…I have?” Strange asked, looking thoroughly confused. 

Pepper looked at him, then. “Darling, did you forget to mention that he was—is—” she hastily corrected at a glare from Tony, “Spiderman?”

“Right, yeah, forgot about that. Peter is Spiderman, you met him when we were fighting Thanos’ cronies. He was there with us on Titan,” Tony clarified. 

“Oh,” Stephen said, and put down his mug onto the counter. He looked slightly sheepish. His cloak folded, as though hiding. “Well, there was—um, an incident. With Spiderman.” 

Oh, he didn’t like the sound of that at all. 

“An incident?” Tony said, voice getting loud with a tone of anger. “Strange — what happened?” 

Strange winced, “Memory spell— we had to wipe…everyone’s memory of him—the kid.” 

Then Strange frowned, as though he’d meant to say something else, as though calling Spiderman ‘the kid’ was some remnant to a distant relationship he’d had with the superhero, something that slipped through as muscle memory.

There was a ripple of jealousy that went through Tony at the thought that Peter had found a replacement mentor in Stephen, which he tried to quash and failed. 

“You did what?” Tony hissed, still in full on anger mode. “You wiped everyone’s memories of him?Of Peter?” It was unforgivable. Tony, rationally, knew that there was likely a good reason for it and that Peter, being as self-sacrificing as he was, had probably chosen that path, but Tony would never have done that, never have condemned Peter to a fate—

Tony thought about watching Peter drift into dust in his arms and sharply stopped down the spiral of thought he’d been on. 

“I don’t actually remember his name,” Stephen said. “I was part of the spell as well.” 

It was extremely difficult not to get mad at Strange. “And…I can’t hit you?” 

Strange smirked. “I would prefer if you didn’t, really.” 

“I need you to bring the memories back,” Tony said. “Restore them to everyone who knew him.” 

There was a pause. “Stark, I did it for a reason. Granted, I don’t remember what the reason was, but I do everything for a reason. Bringing the memories back might have dire consequences for the multiverse.” 

“I don’t care, Strange,” Tony said bluntly. “Look, if there’s anyone that can do it, it’s you, and let’s face it, you kind of owe me one.” Stephen had a full-body flinch at that, and Pepper glared at Tony. 

“Sorry,” Tony apologised quickly, “It was the only way, I know, that’s not on you, I’m an asshole.” 

“It’s…dangerous,” Stephen said, ignoring the apology. “You just got your life back, this might take it away again. So I have to ask….is it worth it?”

Tony didn’t hesitate. “Before I looked into the time travel as a solution, Pepper asked me if I could rest if I turned a blind eye to it, and I told her no, and saved the universe as a result.” He looked at his wife sincerely. “I time-travelled because of him. Because of the possibility it would bring Peter Parker back. I won’t be able to rest without putting this right, too— without having that kid back in my life. Leaving him alone in this world would be unforgivable, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

Stephen Strange stared at him a moment, and then said, “Bring Peter Parker to me, and I will see what I can do, Tony.”

“Thank you,” Tony said. “Thank you, Str—Stephen.” 

“I’m glad you’re back, Tony,” Stephen said, opening a portal. “The world wasn’t quite right without Tony Stark in it.” 

Tony frowned. The way Strange was acting was bizarre: the look of initial relief, agreeing to Tony’s request almost immediately, a request that would mean using his magic to go back on a spell he’d cast. In fact, the whole….bringing back to life thing was somewhat magical, in essence, really, if he thought about it. And the only magic person he knew was Strange…

He had a thought.

“Strange—you don’t…you didn’t have anything to do with me being…alive again, did you?” Tony inquired, glancing at Stephen. 

Stephen just looked at him, smiled slightly, a look that contained a thousand words, and walked back into the portal. 

Tony turned to Pepper, “Is it just me that thinks he is extremely suspicious?” 

Pepper hesitated, then looked at him. “He felt—very guilty, Tony, after you died. He apologised to me many times, said there was no other way, said he wished there was another way. He said…” She picked up the cups of tea, paused. “He said if he ever found a way to fix it, he swore to me that he would try. So it wouldn’t….it wouldn’t surprise me, if he was…involved.” 

“Oh,” Tony said, slightly taken aback. “I kind of got the vibes that he didn’t like me, to be honest. We had an—antagonising relationship on the way to Titan, to say the least.”

“I think he saw a lot of futures,” Pepper said tentatively. “I think he saw you in a lot of those futures, possibly got to know you through them, and regretted his choice to make you snap your fingers in the end.” 

“Well, that’s—” The idea that Stephen had potentially become amicable with Tony as a result of seeing the futures was odd, but kind of made him emotional. “That’s…” 

He didn’t have the words, but Pepper knew all the same. God, things had changed since he’d been gone, christ. Strange had gone soft, Morgan had grown up, and who knows what had happened to the ragtag team of extended Avengers, considering a whole year had passed. 

Everyone’s memories of Peter had been wiped, and he, Tony, was the only exception, the only one who remembered the kid. If, as he expected, the spell applied to everyone. He had a chance to fix it, and that was that. 

“Right,” Tony said, nodded, with a newfound determination. “Let’s go find Peter Parker.” 

Chapter Text

They agreed — reluctantly on Pepper’s behalf — that it would only be Tony going on the search for Peter Parker. Morgan had to stay with someone, and both Happy and Rhodey were indisposed. Happy was apparently grieving someone he’d lost, although Pepper couldn’t remember who and felt extremely bad about not knowing. Rhodey was working — always working, apparently, after Tony’s death. Guilt returned, swift, but one problem first. He could deal with them later. 

So Pepper chose to stay with Morgan, and Tony had half a mind to jump in one of the Iron Man suits and fly straight to New York, to find Peter, but no, obviously that wasn’t going to work because he was legally dead and someone would shoot him out of the sky if Iron Man returned without prior warning. 

Pepper asked him whether it was worth it — the risk that him being alive again would be exposed to the public — and Tony had said yes, without a doubt. Anything for Peter. But an Iron Man suit, they both concluded, was not the way to do it. No, they would have to do a press conference, but that was impossible to do within the time constraints. 

The brilliant plan, therefore, was for Tony to simply be undercover. No fancy suit, no designer sunglasses tucked onto his shirt, no nothing. Just some basic clothes — clothes he would wear in the lake house, a t-shirt and a flannel shirt, black jeans and a baseball cap to hide his face. And okay—he did take some sunglasses. He was still Tony Stark for christ’s sake, even undercover. 

Then he clambered into one of his cars — the least ostentatious, that being the Audi R8 — and took a deep breath, checking his mirrors and everything. After all, it had been a while since he’d driven anywhere. (Over a year, in fact). 

“Track a route to Peter’s apartment, FRI,” Tony said to the car — because all of his cars had the AI in them, he wasn’t an animal. There was a brief pause whilst FRIDAY processed his request. 

“I do not have that address listed in my books, Boss.” Tony’s throat felt tight again.  Even the AI had forgotten Peter. 

“Oh—um,” Tony squinted real hard to try and spark his memory, and then snapped his fingers and listed off the address as he remembered it. FRIDAY plotted a course for that direction. The familiar twinge in his arm went off again, and he looked down at his fingers. 

“Saved the universe once, don’t fail me now, okay?” He muttered to his hand. Yeah, he should probably see a doctor about it, but Tony Stark could handle a little pain.

FRIDAY set the GPS and Tony drove, going over the speed limit as safely as the Audi allowed, hyperaware of his own mortality as he sped around corners. It was a long drive, several hours, and Tony blasted his playlists over the speakers until he was bored of listening to ACDC and started, instead, to inquire questions about what had changed. 

“Give me the rundown FRIDAY,” Tony asked. “Any changes, anything of note.” 

She gave him a long list of events that had happened and the exact date (because, of course, it wasn’t Christmas Day but was, rather, that golden time just after Christmas but before New Year when no-one quite knows what to do with themselves). It was fascinating. 

FRIDAY told him about world events, geopolitics, technological advancements, but also, too, about events that had happened to people in his life. She explained that Rhodey had recently been promoted, that Happy had been seeing someone, that Morgan had recently taken up an interest in basic robotics, just like Tony had when he was that age, but that she had more of a talent in art.

“Should put her in contact with Steve,” Tony murmured, half a joke, half reality.  Steve had always had an interest in art, not that he’d ever flaunted it amongst the team. A talent, too — from the little sketches Tony had seen. 

“Steve Rogers is not on planet,” FRIDAY said, and Tony nearly crashed the car from the surprise of it.

“Not on planet?” Tony echoed. “Is he safe?” He asked the AI, the underlying ‘Is he alive?’ clear from his tone. He and Steve weren’t on the best of relations — not after Germany, not after Siberia, their ‘Civil War’ as the media had always liked to call it. They’d made up, for the final fight, and that had been that. Tony had died, and then, apparently, Steve went…to space?

FRIDAY immediately responded. “That is unclear. I cannot say either way, Boss.” 

Well, shit.

“What’s he doing in space?” Tony inquired, raised eyebrows. He could think of zero reason why Steve Rogers would be in space, but it had to be something heroic, something that only Captain America could do, something patriotic and important and— 

“Returning the Infinity Stones, Boss.” 

Yup, that was the one. Someone had to do it, after all. It made sense that it was Steve, of all people, to complete the mission. But still— Steve Rogers, and time travel. A twisted feeling wrenched through Tony’s gut. It could have gone either way, Steve time-travelling. He didn’t really want to know the answer. 

“Oh, right,” Tony bit his lip. “Well, keep an eye out for any trace of him, FRI.” 

He had a sinking feeling that FRIDAY would not ever find trace of Steve Rogers — not in the present time, in any case. He wished, absentmindedly, that — if Steve really was gone — he could’ve said a proper goodbye, given a proper apology for the years wasted, for not seeing eye to eye. 

He wouldn’t be introducing Morgan to the resident artist of the Avengers, then. She would have to remain content with Stephen Strange’s balloon animals. 

“What happened with Happy’s partner, why the past tense, FRI?” Tony asked, trying to put the events from Morgan’s year without him behind him, to forget them, to not think abut the stuff he had missed in his little girl’s formative years. It ached even more not hearing anything at all about Peter. 

“She died, Boss,” FRIDAY informed him, and Tony’s face darkened. Fuck, that was just so unfair. 

The urge to ask her name coursed through his veins, but he shook his head. He would wait until he saw Happy to ask questions like that. It seemed disrespectful to ask the AI instead of the man himself. 

He sat in silence, then, and continued to drive on to Queens. 

When he finally arrived in New York City much later, it was late afternoon and he pulled up to 15th Street as it was starting to get dark. Tony pulled on his cap and kept his head low as he purchased one of those face masks — the ones that limited the spread of illness, the ones that people had increasingly started wearing in cities because of levels of pollution and the amounts of people — off a street vendor and put it on. It would help him hide his identity. Then he approached the apartment building he’d once parked the very same Audi in front of, and ran up the stairs to reach the familiar apartment.

His hand ghosted over the sign on it, the little 15A he’d grown so used to seeing in the years pre-Blip, when May had invited him over for dinner regularly and when he’d popped in to check on how Peter was doing every so often.

Tony felt sick, then, as he could actually hear the laughter from Peter as Tony lost Mario Kart for the fourth time in a row (“You can’t even drive, Pete, how are you winning?!”), May clanging a kitchen utensil on the pans as she told Tony off for making a comment (“Anthony Edward Stark, that is unbelievable”). He missed them desperately, with everything he had. Not just Peter, but May too. They’d come quite a way from her yelling at him about how irresponsible it was for him to give Peter a superhero suit, and him sheepishly nodding back at her. 

Another deep breath and then he knocked, ready to face the Parkers. 

But he was met with an unfamiliar face. A lady, balancing a baby on her hip, a child who must have been about four running around in the background, too. She glanced at Tony, presumably judging the way he was wearing a hat inside. 

“Um, sorry,” Tony said. “Are the—uh, the Parkers around? May, Peter. They live here.” 

It was a futile question, he quickly realised, as he stared into the not-so-familiar apartment, because all of the decoration had changed, because none of the furniture was the same, and it lacked the distinctive ‘glow’ that it once had. No, the Parkers weren’t there.  

“No, sorry,” the lady said. “They don’t live here anymore. We do. We have—for four years.” 

“Oh,” Tony said. “Um—do you…do you know where they went?” 

“I haven’t heard of them,” the woman said, shaking her head, and shut the door on him. He blinked at the 15A sign again and walked back down the stairs. 

Where to next, Stark? 

He thought to himself, thinking of Midtown, thinking of Stark Tower, and knowing neither answer was right. No, there was only one way of finding Peter Parker that was going to be effective, and that was to sit and wait. So he sat back in the Audi, watching the sky darken, reluctantly bought a sandwich to quell the hunger in his stomach and did just that. He waited and watched. 

And then—a flash of movement in the sky, a flicker of red and blue. Tony emerged from the car, ignoring the light trickle of rain that had started to descend, and stared into the sky. 

He thought about calling out to the boy, considered it, but his heart raced so fast that Tony feared he was on the verge of a heart attack, so he didn’t and instead watched as the boy swung, observed as Spiderman completed his patrol. 

Tony’s heart ached as he saw that it wasn’t a suit he recognised—more basic, less technological than the initial suit, or the Iron Spider one. It was like a combination of Peter’s original suit — if it could be called a suit — and his tech-filled ones, glistening blue and red in the darkness. Tony cocked his head as he noted the changes, the wider array of blue on it, the slightly different emblem, and wondered where the kid had gotten the inspiration from. 

He didn’t want to interrupt Peter’s patrol. He knew how sacred it was to the kid, how dedicated he was to Spiderman, so Tony bided his time and waited. He waited until Peter had stopped several muggings — nothing too dangerous, but Tony still clenched his jaw with worry as he saw Peter disappear into an alleyway. 

He sat, drove, and thought about things. Thought about wizards, and spells, and genies in bottles that gave you three wishes, wishes that always had tied conditions to them. Tony considered it, then, sat behind the wheel of the Audi R8, with the sinking idea in his mind that the spell that had brought him to life could have some condition attached to it. Time, he thought, the most precious resource. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Surely there had to be some cap on his luck, some point in which the angels said 'nope that’s enough’ and closed the pot. Surely. 

Then Peter swung— not to Queens, but in fact to Midtown, and Tony followed in the Audi, tailing far enough behind that Peter wouldn’t have noticed. Tony wasn’t danger, so he hoped the kid's Spider senses wouldn’t pick up on him being there and make Peter spot him in his car. 

Tony was like 85% sure that Peter was going to freak out when he saw Tony alive, and he wanted that to be in a private place, so that if Peter passed out, then Tony could take off his mask without fearing he was revealing his identity to the general public. Thus, he watched as Peter started doing several loop the loops as he got closer to his new place and became more comfortable in the environment. 

“Nice,” Tony commented to himself as he watched the kid literally web open a window of an apartment and do a flip as he rolled in. 

“FRI — calculate the height and figure out what apartment number that is for me?” He asked the AI, eyes still on the window. 

“That seems creepy Boss, but okay, will do.”

“Creepy—” Tony spluttered. 

“It’s apartment 23C,” FRIDAY quickly informed him, and Tony sighed. 

“Let’s go get my kid back.” It was a metaphorical, of course, for FRIDAY was not coming with him, but it worked at putting him somewhat at ease, at calming his racing heart. He entered the building: it was dark, covered in dirt and with a weird odour to it as well. Tony winced, and went up the stairs, careful not to tread on anything disgusting, and found apartment 23C without too much difficulty.

It was a rough place, Tony thought absentmindedly. Maybe May had fallen upon hard times. He stared at the door to the apartment that Peter had swung into several minutes previously as though it was like the entrance to the cave from Afghanistan all over again. 

Just a door, he thought to himself, knowing that it wasn’t really just a door, it was everything. 

Tony shook his head of doubt and knocked, several raps on the door and then stood back slightly,  taking his cap off and the mask too, shoving them into the pocket of his jeans. He put a hand over his heart, just briefly, patted it, to try and put it at ease. 

He was nervous. 

“One second, Mr Patel!” Peter’s voice came ringing out, loud and clear, and Tony wanted to cry from the cheerful nature it still contained, despite everything. There was a scurrying of noise, several bangs, presumably as Peter tried to wrestle off his new suit and appear normal to whoever Mr Patel was. Possibly his neighbour? Or someone similar?

Peter then rushed to open the door — wearing the oversized ‘I survived my trip to NYC’ shirt from the whole Toomes debacle as well as the matching pink Hello Kitty pyjamas. His hair was tufted up, longer than Tony had ever seen it, and Tony’s breath immediately caught in his throat as he saw Peter. 

“Hey kid.” Tony nodded at Peter, a small smile on his face. He was trying for the sarcastic, nonchalant, slightly emotionally-reserved mentor that he’d tended to be for the kid, instead of the borderline-possessive dad he’d always wanted to be. “Nice outfit.” 

A quip, always a quip, because Tony couldn’t lead into that conversation with some emotional comment, no.

Peter went white as a sheet as he laid eyes on the man at his doorstep. “Mr Stark?” 

He whispered the name, a ghost of a word. 

“It’s me, kiddo,” Tony swallowed, sharply. He hadn’t expected how much it would hit him, seeing Peter, the same but also ever so different, too.   

“No, no, no, this is—this isn’t real.” Peter stumbled back into his apartment, hands in his hair, raking his fingers through it, stressed. “Fuck, I thought this had stopped, I thought they’d gone, please go.” 

It wasn’t quite the reunion he’d anticipated. 

“Peter…” Tony blinked, stepped into the small apartment (which, for the record, was summarised in a single word: dingy), leaving the door open. He walked towards Peter, who kept shaking his head. 

“Go away,” Peter chanted under his breath, “Go away.” 

Tony was confused. He looked to the door, closed it quietly behind him to avoid the neighbours seeing him or Peter, and then looked back at Peter. Why did the kid want him to go away? What had he done?

“You’re not real, you’re just a hallucination,” Peter squeezed his eyes closed, “You’re not real, Mysterio’s dead so why are you still here, why, please just go away.” 

Tony didn’t know who Mysterio was, but the realisation that Peter thought he was a hallucination, just like Pepper and Stephen had done initially, hit him hard. But it wasn’t the same as Stephen, because he’d made an offhand comment, but Peter actually thought he was a hallucination — and from the comments he made “I thought this had stopped” “Why are you still here?” — this wasn’t the first hallucination he’d seen.

It was an earth-shatteringly painful realisation to have.

“I’m not a hallucination,” Tony said slowly, softly.

“Yes you are,” Peter said, refusing to listen to him, refusing to look at him.  “You’re not real, you’re a mirage.”

“No—I’m not!” Tony retorted, refusing, shaking his own head. 

“That’s not possible, you’re dead, and if you were miraculously alive then you wouldn’t remember me anyways.” Peter’s tone was bitter, hard, and it struck Tony then that Peter Parker had grown up in the year that Tony had left him —he’d grown up an awful lot. 

Possibly he’d been forced to grow up. 

“What kind of hallucination can do this, huh?” Tony said, and strode the several steps that remained between him and the kid and encased him in a hug, a hug tighter than the ones he’d received from Pepper, from Morgan, because the kid needed him, Peter needed him. 

And there, as he held Peter, he allowed his eyes to scour around the apartment properly for the first time. It was nothing like the previous apartment the Parkers had had. It was small, dingy, dark. There was nothing that indicated it housed someone, not really, and there were boxes still strewn around the main room. It was tiny — a student’s accommodation, made for one person, with one bed. 

Tony’s mouth went dry, and the thought struck though him for the first time then, a ricochet, something he hadn’t considered, that May Parker, wherever she was, had also forgotten about her nephew in the spell. All this time, he’d considered that May would never forget, that she would never forget her nephew, not Peter — but of course she had. The spell had applied to everyone, absolutely everyone, even Stephen himself hadn’t been exempt. 

Peter, therefore, had been completely alone—for however long this spell had lasted for. No May, no friends, no anyone. 

For the first time since he came back from the dead, Tony Stark was truly thankful that he’d died — if only for the reason that he was the sole person on the earth (aside from Peter himself) who remembered the boy with the kind soul and the cheerful demeanour, the only person who hadn’t been affected by the spell cast by Stephen Strange. 

Possibly if he hadn’t died at all, then he could have prevented the spell from happening at all, but it was too late to reflect on that. 

Peter was clinging to him, absolutely wholly clinging to him. He seemed to have given up on the idea that Tony was a hallucination and had, instead, started to process that he was actually alive and real and there, and was muttering things of that nature through wracking sobs that made Tony’s heart clench. 

“Tony—” He stuttered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re—you—”

God, this kid has been through too much. 

“You’re real,” He sobbed, finally. 

“Hey, Pete,” Tony said, when the tears had stopped a little (not really — the boy was still crying, but the heavy movement of his chest had stopped). Tony moved away from Peter just slightly, extracting himself from the hug, but Peter clutched onto the bottom of his shirt desperately, making a little whining noise when he realised Tony was moving away.

“Don’t go,” Peter said, in the same heartbreakingly quiet tone as Morgan, and Tony didn’t move back any further. 

Peter looked up at him. “How are you…alive?” 

“Beats me. Came back to life this very morning,” Tony shrugged, trying to be cavalier about it. “Wizard shit, we think, but Strange is being tricky about it.”

“Strange?” Peter asked, his voice lighting up with hope. “You saw Stephen?”

The kid called the Wizard by his first name as well?!

Tony looked at him, sure his expression had a flash of horror before he could mask it, and he tried to swallow the overwhelming jealousy that reared its head in Tony’s brain, yelling at him that he’d been replaced by a wizard.

“Yeah…Stephen,” he said, internally pushing down the envy. “I just…woke up, and bam, back to life. Pretty crazy, huh?” 

“Very crazy,” Peter nodded, looking at him like he was the Mona Lisa. He seemed to not want to blink, or look away from Tony, likely in the fear that Tony would disappear if he did. “And you remember me…” 

“I do,” Tony affirmed. “Of course I remember you, Pete. I remember everything. I remember when you first walked in to the apartment, me sat with May, and you talking about a cool car parked out front, about doing well on your math test, you diving to hide your homemade suit when I found it.” 

He could have stopped there, but he sensed the kid needed someone to truly know who he was, had the sense that Peter had been alone for just a little bit too long. Tony took a breath. “I remember how your favourite sweets are gummy bears and that your favourite kind of sandwich is one from Delmar’s, number five with pickles, smushed down real flat.”

“I remember that your Spanish teacher’s name was Mrs Garcia, and that you always got annoyed with Mr Harrington cause he never set you work that was hard enough. I remember that my bots love you, especially DUMM-E because he always gave you smoothies and you always tried to drink them despite the motor oil.” 

“I remember all of it cause you’re a good kid, the best kid, one who decided to become a superhero at the age of fourteen and didn’t listen to anyone telling him to stop. I remember your smile, your laugh, everything, Pete.”

I remember you turning to dust into my arms, grieving you for five years, hugging you once and then making you watch me die less than an hour later. 

That bit Tony didn’t say out-loud. 

Peter grabbed onto him tighter, his other hand holding onto the flannel shirt Tony wore, and pulled Tony back into the hug. 

“Strange said he’s going to—to try and fix it,” Tony said, muffled, into the hug. “The memories.”  

“Fix it?” Peter said back, and Tony clenched his jaw subtly as he heard the hope in Peter’s voice, and fought the urge to close his eyes. Yes, because Stephen gave hope, gave solutions, and Tony was only there as the messenger, really. Worst mentor ever. Definitely had been slacking in his position as mentor over the last year. He didn’t blame the kid for replacing him. 

It hurt like a motherfucker, though. 

“He said he’ll try,” Tony affirmed, not wanting to promise anything. 

Tony pulled back, intent on getting moving. Strange would be awake — he was a wizard, he could probably put himself in a mirror dimension and get sleep that way, or something, he didn’t need it. And the last thing Tony wanted to do was sleep, jesus fuck, because sleep meant lying down and closing his eyes and losing consciousness and that sounded an awful lot like dying. Tony didn’t particularly want to find out whether his rebirth had been a one-day-special and he would expire again once he went back to sleep. So, awake it was. 

“Where’s May, you must keep tabs on her, right?” Tony asked Peter. “We can go find her, restore this right now.” Tony said, firmly. “We’ll take her to Strange with us, get this whole thing sorted out.” 

“May’s gone, Mr Stark,” Peter said, voice strained. 

“No she’s not, kid,” Tony rushed onward, “We’ll find her and we’ll get her memories of you back and we’ll fix this, we’ll fix everything.”

The kid had been alone this whole time, and Tony was going to do everything in his power — and in the wizard’s power — to make the kid happy again. Even if it took days, weeks. They’d find May, find Ned, all of Peter’s friends, everyone he cared about. 

But Peter was still shaking his head. 

“She’s dead,” Peter said, and the tears were falling down his face. “May’s dead, Tony, she’s gone.” 

Tony’s heart broke, and he sat down roughly on the single bed in the apartment, crashed down, really, because, no, god, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, no. 

May couldn’t be dead.

Grief coursed through him in full force — because he’d been waiting to see her, been waiting to insult her poor attempt at cooking, to greet her just like he would have done with Rhodey and Happy, to see the surprise on her face, and he couldn’t, because she was gone. 

Fuck. 

Tony sat on the bed with a hand covering his face, eyes teary, and Peter stood awkwardly, as though he didn’t know what to do with himself (as though he hadn’t had any human contact in months and as though everyone in his life had been taken away from him because of a magic spell). 

“C’mere, kid,” Tony said, holding his hands out to Peter, and Peter rushed forward into his arms. 

“I’m so sorry, kid, I’m so sorry,” he muttered into Peter’s hair, still processing it himself. His mind was spiralling with questions, questions he didn’t have answers to but didn’t want to ask (because the kid had been through so much and it didn’t seem fair to ask him questions about the death of his last living relative). And god— May was Peter’s last living relative, and she was gone. 

Peter blubbered into his clothes, his muscles loosening as Tony held him gently, and it seemed like it was the first time he’d truly allowed himself to process the loss of his aunt. Tony had ideas on his mind, ideas that didn’t seem acceptable to voice. Ideas about adoption, about coming to live with him, Pepper and Morgan in the lake house, ideas about Peter being Tony’s kid legally, but it wasn’t the right time, and he knew it. 

So he let the kid cry into his shoulder and felt safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t let the kid be alone like he had been ever again. 

It was into the small hours of the morning before the pair of them moved, and that was okay. Tony was pretty sure the hug had been something they both needed. He’d been intent on solutions — solving the problem, getting life back to normal, and hadn’t paused to consider and marvel the fact that Peter Parker was in his arms, was there for him to hold. It had been something he’d spent five years of his life wishing for, and he was treating it as though it wasn’t something revolutionary. Tony owed it to his past self to spend some time appreciating it — especially if he had a limited time being alive, something he wasn’t certain on.

The battlefield they’d last hugged on, after all, had not quite been the place to quite realise the enormity of that: that he had his kid in his arms again, after having lost him for five years. He’d been torn apart from the kid to fight Thanos, to get the infinity stones, to snap, and to die. Tony had never really come to terms with the fact that the kid was back, that he’d fulfilled his mission. 

And Peter—well, Peter had spent a year grieving him, after watching him die before his very eyes. Then he’d had to grieve his aunt, losing two of the adult figures in his life in a fell swoop. And the whole memory spell thing had caused him to lose anyone else in his life — not that Tony knew enough about the situation to be able to say how long he’d been dealing with it for. Peter needed time to process, too. 

As Peter fell asleep, exhausted, with his head leaning on Tony’s shoulder, Tony sitting with his back to the wall, Tony took a deep breath and let it happen. He was reluctant, to stay, to fall asleep himself, to let time pass without resolving the situation. He was itching to get moving, but it was fairly clear the kid wasn’t up to moving. Peter had obviously had a long day, and then had had the shock of his life seeing Tony again, seeing someone who actually remembered who he was. 

It was okay. If holding Peter Parker as he slept — peaceful, safe — was the last thing Tony did before he faded back into death, then he’d be okay with it, he realised. Peter knew Stephen would try to sort it, would naturally drift to the Sanctum. He had full faith it would go okay, if Tony died again. 

He still didn’t fall asleep though, just in case it killed him. Instead he stared at the ceiling, at the kid, everywhere in the small apartment.

Eventually Peter woke, and it was early in the morning, but Tony was antsy to get moving, even more so than he had been earlier that night. They got up and left the apartment, Tony with his disguise back on and Peter in some normal clothes. He looked dishevelled — they both did, really, as they hadn’t left any time to get ready before going.

“Careful,” Peter held Tony back, stopping him from stepping on a particular step as they went down. “That one creaks, and I don’t want to wake Mr Patel.” 

“Who is—” Tony asked, unfinished because Peter cut in.

“Landlord,” Peter elaborated, a whisper of a word, and Tony nodded, avoiding the step, not wanting to upset the clearly cordial relations between Peter and his landlord. Because Peter wasn’t the 14 year old he’d first met in Queens, no. Peter was an adult now, an adult who had to handle things like rent and jobs and taking care of himself. Tony had blinked and missed that, somehow. It probably hadn’t helped that for a year of it, he’d been dead, but hey, he really couldn’t help that. 

He was being awfully cavalier about the death jokes, as well, Tony reflected, and just thanked the lord that he hadn’t had the indecency to accidentally say one out loud. 

It wasn’t a long drive to the Sanctum — Peter could have swung there easier than it was to drive — but for the sake of keeping Tony’s identity as well as his dignity intact (because getting Peter to swing him there would definitely ruin it), they chose to drive. Peter was in normal clothes in any case, had changed into some jeans and a threadbare t-shirt that Tony immediately wanted to replace. 

New York was quiet. It had been, too, back during the first couple of months after the Blip, on Tony’s first return to the Tower. He’d glanced out of the penthouse and had seen the horrifying truth of the snap, the visual of it in front of him, the lack of people there, almost exactly half the amount of people that usually crowded the streets of New York. Half the people, half the cars, half  the usual vibe the city had. 

It had felt empty. He swallowed just remembering it. Sometimes he’d been glad that he’d been on Titan when it had all gone down, and he’d only had to see the people around him when Thanos had snapped. If Tony had been in a crowd of people and had seen that many people disappear, all at once…well. 

But then the nightmares had encompassed him, the burning fear of him being alone —and worse, alone on an alien planet — having come true, the memory of holding Peter in his arms as he turned to dust. And he’d wished for more than anything for someone to take that memory away from him, as his heart had ached and he’d screamed every single fucking night for the first year after returning to Earth as the memory haunted him in his nightmares. 

A hazy glance over the dashboard of the car made him realise it was already time for normal people to wake up, somehow. Tony wondered about the passage of time, mentally swallowed at the realisation that if his time back alive was limited to twenty four hours then he didn’t have that long left to resolve the problem at hand. Because, shit. He hoped that Pepper would understand, if he wasn’t able to return before blinking out of existence again, just how crucial restoring Peter’s memories was to Tony, to his wellbeing. He felt a pang in his chest at the idea that there was a possibility he wasn’t going to see, hold, look at his daughter again, but pushed it aside. 

There was no use thinking about the time he had left, if it was limited, when he had things to be doing. He parked the car, told FRIDAY he’d be back soon and started to get out. 

“Can’t wait, Boss,” came FRIDAY’s ringing reply, and Peter hissed through his teeth in a pained tone. Tony turned to look at him, concerned he’d hit his head, but he was staring at the car display. 

Peter’s eyes glistened with tears. “I missed FRIDAY.” 

“You must have had Karen, though,” Tony murmured. “To keep you company.”

Peter bit his lip, “Suit didn’t work, had no memories of me, hence why I had to make the one you saw earlier. I tried coding her back into my new one but—well. It’s kinda hard in a shitty apartment with no tech.”

So he’d been alone, even as Spiderman. 

“We’ll fix it,” Tony promised, “We’ll fix it all.”

Then he raised his eyebrows, sighed. “Rather…he will.” 

Both of them turned to look up at the doors to the Sanctum, looming above both of them. 

Chapter Text

“Remember, he doesn’t know me,” Peter said as they walked towards 177a Bleecker Street, eyes trained on Tony as though he didn’t want to let him out of his sight again. 

“Trust me,” Tony said in a low voice. “I remember. I almost punched him when I found out he was involved in this whole situation.” 

“Mr Stark!” Peter looked alarmed, his eyes widening. “You almost punched him?” 

Tony winced. “It was for—ah, a good reason.” 

“He doesn’t deserve that!” Peter protested. “He did what I told him to! It was my idea!” 

“Hm. He’s a wizard who was entrusted with one of the infinity stones for years. He could have done better than leave you stranded, with no-one.” Tony rolled his eyes. "And chill, kid, I didn’t even punch him.” 

Tony knocked on the door to the New York Sanctum with a dash of impatience, the sound loud and reverberating. It took several moments, but the doors opened without the help of human hands, and Tony walked in cautiously. Peter, on the other hand, bounded in like it was his second home or something. 

Stephen was stood at the bottom of the stairs, straight-faced. 

“It’s an awful lot warmer than last time,” Peter said with a grin. He rubbed his hands over his arms. “Brrrr, it was chilly.” 

Stephen’s expression did not change at the quip, so Tony presumed it was Peter’s attempt at joking about a memory they’d both shared — one that Stephen obviously didn’t remember. 

“Oh, right. You don’t…remember that.” Peter said with a sigh. 

As they approached the Wizard, who eyed them both with a calm face, the Wizard’s cloak snuck off his shoulders and, with a mind of its own, went up to Peter. Tony watched in bewilderment as the Cloak wrapped itself around Peter and Peter laughed, patting it gently. Stephen looked equally alarmed by the betrayal of his cloak to greet the teenager. 

He blinked, stared at Peter, then shot a glance at Tony. “I presume this is Spiderman, then?” 

“Peter Parker,” Tony corrected absentmindedly, still watching Peter. It was the first time he’d seen a proper laugh on the kid’s face all day — in a long time, really — and he was trying to commit it to memory in case his time was limited and he didn’t get to see it again.  

“Hi, I’m Peter,” the kid grinned, sticking out a hand. Stephen’s cloak curled around Peter’s arm protectively as he reached out. “I missed Levi.” 

“Levi?” Stephen asked, raising an eyebrow as he shook the kid’s hand.  

“I named him —your cloak— for you,” Peter said matter-of-factly. “You loved it.” 

There was a slight lilt in Peter’s voice that suggested the opposite. Stephen’s subsequent frowning expression was further evidence. 

“I guarantee you I did not,” Strange said with a grimace. 

“Okay, fine,” Peter rolled his eyes, smiled. “You hated it.” 

It was…odd, the flare of jealousy that Tony got, seeing the kid interact with his other mentor, and depressing to see Stephen so overwhelmingly confused by Peter’s remarks. Tony told himself it was because Strange didn’t know the kid, had no memories, and that was all. That when they were normal, the kid and the wizard got on well. 

“So…the kid’s memories,” Tony said, to break the tension as Stephen stared at Peter in disbelief. He seemed to be contemplating whether or not to kick Peter out of the Sanctum for the act of treason that was giving his fancy cape a name. “Let’s…get them back, yeah?” 

“Mm. If you’ll excuse me, I just have to go and locate a book that I’ll need for this,” Stephen said, eyes dancing over Peter, as though he was considering whether to confiscate the cloak of Levitation back. He clearly decided to let it be and walked up the stairs sans cloak. As he disappeared from view, Peter sighed and fiddled with the corner of the cloak which had attached itself to the kid’s back.

“Well, that was terrible,” Peter muttered, not really to Tony, just a comment meant for the void. 

“I’m glad you..um,” Tony searched for the word, struggled. “Found Strange, after I…left. It’s good—that—having a mentor.”

Tony was glad that Peter had found someone to keep an eye on him, although the kid was old and wise enough not really to need it anymore. But it was more someone to just be there for the kid. He was happy that Stephen had been that for Peter — however long it had been for, however temporary. The kid having someone was good. 

He was glad. 

Why was it so hard to get himself to truly believe that?

Peter let out a breath, chuckled as he did so. 

“Stephen—he’s great, he was—is,” Peter swallowed. He left a pause, and then cast his eyes over to glance at him, a small smile spreading across his face. “But he’s not you. He was never you.” 

Joy returned to Tony, then, like the rays of sunlight appearing over the horizon in the morning, sunbeams covering one’s face. Like the first gulp of water Tony had had after returning from Afghanistan. The first bite of that cheeseburger. An immediate sense of relief, quelling the jealousy he’d felt. 

He was never you. 

Maybe Stephen hadn’t replaced him after all. The fear that Tony had already lost the kid dissipated just slightly, although he was fully aware the Peter Parker he was stood next to was certainly not the one he’d met in Germany, or even the kid he’d brought into his lab several years later to teach him about engineering (although he’d been fairly proficient in it at the time, anyways). No, the Peter Parker he was with in 2024 was different, but he was still fundamentally Peter. He was still Tony’s kid, regardless of the different blood that ran in their veins, regardless of the changes that both of them had gone through. 

And maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t lost the kid quite yet. 

“We haven’t talked about it,” Tony commented, only just really coming to terms with what Peter had just said, “What happened. Why you’re in this alone. Why Strange had to do a memory spell in the first place.” 

Why May’s dead — Tony thought, but didn’t voice. He presumed the two events were linked in some way. He couldn’t be certain, of course, but he could guess. 

“It’s a long story.” Peter stared back at the floor, reluctant. 

“I’m here all day,” Tony said, lying through his teeth because of course, he actually didn’t know how long he was going to be present for. But it sounded good. Reassuring. Peter bit his lip. 

“Bambino,” Tony uttered softly, quietly, the nickname slipping out before he could stop it, a name he reserved for Morgan usually, “You can tell me.” 

Peter jolted at being called that — a wave of surprise — and he blinked before starting to talk. “I didn’t get into MIT.” 

“That’s how the story starts?” Tony asked, alarmed, because…what the fuck? This was to do with college?!

Peter covered his face with a hand, and backtracked. “No—I mean—shit, um, it starts with Beck, I suppose.” 

“Beck?” Tony asked.

Peter frowned, “Ex-employee of yours, he kind of…ruined my life. He exposed to the public that I’m Spiderman, um, and framed me for his murder.” 

Hold the phone, what?!

Peter said it so casually, but it was a revelation to Tony, it was like a bombshell dropping. “Everyone knew?” 

The one thing Peter had wanted was to stay in the shadows. To not be known to the public. To be a friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. It sounded like that had been ripped away from him without a choice in the matter. Whoever the Beck guy was, Tony was going to tear him apart. 

“Yeah, and I didn’t—we didn’t—get into MIT. Me and my friends.” Peter admitted. 

“You didn’t?” Tony frowned. He wondered, absentmindedly, whether Happy had ever given the MIT admissions team the letter of recommendation Tony had written for Peter. It bothered him immensely, the idea that Peter hadn’t gotten into MIT simply because he was Spiderman, and because of false allegations. Of murder. 

Because once Tony had died, that was apparently the world. Peter Parker, the nicest person the universe had ever gifted Earth, had been accused of murder. 

“And then…well, I was stupid,” Peter sighed. “I tried to get Mr—Dr—Stephen to reverse it. To make everyone forget, and it…long story short, it brought a bunch of villains from other universes into this world.” 

Multiverse! Something fizzled inside him — Tony’s scientist brain was happy, apparently, at the proclamation that the multiverse was true and real. 

Tony spoke slowly when he continued. He couldn’t believe it, needed a confirmation. “From other…universes.” 

“Yeah,” Peter breathed. “Yeah. We had a plan to cure them cause if they went back to their universes then they would be killed, Stephen didn’t like it very much, but I was pretty determined. May—she thought it was a good idea, could prevent their deaths, and you know May. Once she’s committed to something, she is…was pretty insistent on doing it.” 

Tony nodded mutely, swallowing. 

“One of the villains turned on us—he killed her, Tony,” Peter said, “And I just—I just broke, I mean. First Ben, and then you…and then May as well? Everything I touch just gets ruined.” 

Tony shook his head, didn’t say anything. Didn’t know quite what to say. Everything I touch gets ruined. God, this kid. 

“Ned and MJ, they tried to find me — I left, for a bit, needed to be alone — and instead they found um, alternate versions of me.” 

Tony felt slightly faint. “Alternate…versions…of you…” 

Peter nodded, completely calm. “The spell Stephen almost cast brought them into the universe too—other Peter Parkers, Spidermen. We teamed up, cured the villains. They were really cool, um, and it was pretty weird fighting with them by my side cause it was kind of like fighting alongside myself.”

“Other versions of you…” Tony was still focused on that, just imagining it. What would other versions of Peter Parker be like? The idea was fascinating. 

“I almost killed the Goblin—the villain who killed May,” Peter said, shaking his head. “But Peter-Two and Peter-Three stopped me. I’m glad they did.” 

His voice was a whisper, as though he was ashamed to admit it. Tony didn’t blame him for wanting to kill this Goblin. He wanted, desperately, to be able to hug Peter-Two and Peter-Three just as much as he did with his own Peter, if only to say thank you for being there for him at a time when he needed people. When he wasn’t there. 

Peter’s voice went shaky. “We sent them back to their universes, all of the villains, cured, and the two Peters as well. And…I realised that it wasn’t going to stop. The universe was breaking, and there was only one way to stop it. So I told Stephen to erase me from everyone’s memories, everyone, even MJ, Ned, Stephen. I told them I’d go back and find them, explain.” 

A tear fell from Peter’s eye, rolled all the way down to his cheek before he wiped it off quickly. “But I didn’t want—I just. I put them at risk, and they deserve better than that. They deserve to be safe. I break everything I touch. I hurt people.” 

“Oh, Pete,” Tony said, and couldn’t take it any longer. He rushed forward to take the boy into another crushing hug.

You don’t break things, kid, you’re amazing, you’re the best kid, you don’t hurt people.

Tony had the whole speech prepared in his mind, but he was interrupted before he could even start.

“I feared it might have been something like that,” Stephen uttered, and the pair swivelled round to see him standing on the stairs with a book in his hands. He’d clearly been listening to the whole tale, and grimaced at the outcome.  

The wizard held a large book with words in cursive written on it. Tony cocked his head to read them properly, and found that they were in French. “Restauration de la mémoire” it said, which roughly translated to memory restoration. Why it was in French, Tony didn’t know, but it was probably to make it seem fancy. Magic books always tried to do that, Tony thought, thinking back to the fairy books he’d had to read to Morgan when she’d been in that phase. Fancy cursive lettering to make it complicated. 

“This will be against protocols,” Stephen murmured. “It might put the multiverse at risk, it might cause the return of those—those villains. Or the other yous. We don’t know how this is going to go.” 

Peter’s face, which had been lit up with hope since he’d entered the Sanctum, drooped a little. 

“But you’re going to do it, right?” Tony checked. 

“I promised you I’d try,” Stephen shot him a glance, “And honestly, kid, it does seem like I had little choice but to do it at the time. I’d sort of like my memories back, even though I don’t like the sound of ‘Stephen didn’t like it very much’ when you were explaining.” 

“I trapped you in the Mirror dimension,” Peter blurted out, then covered his mouth with a hand as though he hadn’t meant to say that. Tony let out a wheeze just thinking about it. 

Stephen shot an irritated look at Tony. “And you’re certain I should return the memories?” 

“Strange, even you have to admit…that’s quite funny.” Tony grinned.

Stephen let out a deep sigh, and then the corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. “Let’s get this done, shall we? Before Wong comes back and finds out.”

The wizard started to climb the stairs he’d just left again, gesturing with a hand for Tony and Peter to follow. 

“That’s so funny, that Wong’s your boss now,” Tony commented as they went up the stairs. 

“He was always better suited for the job,” Stephen admitted grudgingly. The words sounded wrong coming out of his mouth. 

Peter was still playing with the Cloak of Levitation, who was distracting him enough that he was a great deal of distance behind them. He’d tried to catch up but then Levi would pull him back down. Tony suspected the cloak was trying to get Stephen and Tony to speak to each other, alone, without the interference of the kid. 

Tony took his chance to ask some questions he’d been seeking the answers to. 

“Strange,” Tony said, grabbing the wizard’s arm. Stephen looked surprised, met his eyes. “Is this—is this permanent? Me…sticking around, or…do I have limited time? Because if it’s limited, I have a lot of people to speak to and I better…get to it.”

Strange had given him a second chance at life. Tony had to know, had to ask. 

Stephen paused, lowered his voice to avoid Peter hearing. “Of course it’s permanent—you think I would restore your life but cut it short, give everyone hope, give you that hope?” 

A wave of relief. Permanent. 

“Well,” Tony murmured. “Thank you. I don’t—I don’t think I deserve this. A second—well, more than second chance, really, I’ve nearly died several times. This is like the fifth chance, I suppose. Maybe more. But a second chance from true death.” 

“If there was anyone worthy of rising like a phoenix from the ashes, Anthony Stark, then it would be you,” Strange said, and the use of his full name from someone he wasn’t close to, in such a sincere, raw tone, took Tony by surprise and he found his eyes drawn to Stephen’s. 

“We were…friends, weren’t we, in some of those realities you saw?” Tony muttered back, glancing at Peter to draw his eyes away from Stephen’s gaze because it was strong, cut through him easily. 

“Friends in some,” Stephen nodded slowly. “More than that in others. Enemies, lovers, strangers, reluctant allies. It depended on a lot of factors.” 

More than that in others. Lovers. Tony wished he could say he was surprised, but he wasn’t really. Tony as he was had no feelings for Stephen Strange, because his heart lay wholly with Pepper. But in another life, if there was no Pepper there to keep him sane, grounded. Then he could see how he could fall for the wizard, as arrogant and pompous as he was.

He could see it painted out in some universe, some scenario, somewhere, and he felt bad for Stephen Strange, who had brought him back to life knowing the feelings would be unrequited. 

“Don’t say anything,” Stephen said, his eyes closed, a pained expression across his face. “I know you’re not interested. You have Pepper. But you have the right to know, and I’m sure it explains a lot.”

“You were surprised, that it worked,” Tony commented. “You seemed it, when you saw me.” 

“I didn’t know whether it would work, 100%,” Stephen said, “Messing with magic is a bad idea, generally. But I promised Pepper I would look into any way possible, and I keep promises.”

“I’m—sorry, Stephen,” Tony mumbled. He didn’t quite know what he was sorry for: possibly he was apologising for the lack of a relationship — being that platonic or romantic — that he held for the man, or just the enormity of the difficulty it had to be, to burden knowing the future he chose would condemn a man he cared for to death. 

He supposed he was apologising for all of it, really. 

It was—odd, seeing the wizard shift from being the sarcastic, arrogant guy as he had been on the way to Titan, their bickering to someone who clearly cared about him. It was as though he’d been put in a parallel universe himself. Tony supposed, though, he would have time to get used to it. 

Permanent. He was back to life — permanently. It was a weight off his shoulders. 

They reached the top of the stairs, bending into a corridor. Stephen had strode down it, opening one of the doors along the hallway to an expansive, poorly-lit room. A library, of sorts, but meant for spell casting, Tony presumed. 

“Let’s do this, shall we?” Tony said, wanting to bring an end to the conversation. It was quite clear, too, that Stephen did not want to elaborate on it. “If you hurt him in any way…” 

“You know I won’t,” Strange said. “Quite clearly I liked the kid, even if I don’t remember anything about him. I wouldn’t tolerate his company otherwise.” 

“Still,” Tony muttered. “Don’t hurt him.” 

“Alright, dad,” Stephen retorted, rolled his eyes, but the title — dad — made Tony’s heart beat just a little faster. He smiled without realising it. 

“Alright, Spiderman?” Strange turned to Peter, who was still playing with the Cloak of Levitation behind them, spaced out of the conversation the older men were having. 

“Oh—yeah, just coming,” Peter said, batting off Levi as the Cloak tried to cover his eyes and make him trip up. “Levi, stop that!” 

“Levi, to me,” Stephen summoned, and then made a pained noise as he realised he’d used Peter’s nickname that he was supposed to detest. The Cloak flew away from Peter and reattached itself to Stephen’s shoulders. 

Peter pumped his fist in the air with triumph, “Aha!” 

Stephen looked so displeased that he’d used the name Levi, it was kind of hilarious. He took several seconds to recover and then sighed deeply, opening his eyes again. 

“Right, this is hopefully not going to endanger the multiverse in any way,” Stephen said. “Peter, get in the circle, please.” 

Peter stepped into what Tony decided was the ‘spell circle’. It was the same as any other part of the floor except for the fact that it had white markings on it. 

“What I’m going to do differently this time,” Stephen murmured to both of them, “is to include a clause that makes it just apply to this universe, which should prevent anyone — friendlies or enemies — from coming into this universe.”

“You didn’t think to do that last time?” Tony muttered under his breath. 

“You heard the kid. Time pressure, and the multiverse was cracking in any case,” Stephen waved the idea off. “We obviously didn’t have much of a choice.” 

“He’s right,” Peter nodded. “It was kind of stressful on time.” 

“Can you get that book for me?” Stephen murmured to Tony, vaguely gesturing to a book up high on the wall. “I just want to check something.” 

“Sure thing,” Tony nodded, turned to the case and tried to grab it. 

Stephen glanced at him after a second of trying to get it, “Can you reach?” 

“Can you reach—yes, I can reach, asshole.” Tony spluttered, grabbing the book and passing it to the wizard. 

Strange snorted, “Says the shortest man I’ve ever met in my life.” 

He raised an eyebrow, flicked to the page of the book he needed. 

“I’m average height,” Tony muttered back, outraged. 

“The amount of times you’ve called me to get something off a high shelf for you suggests otherwise, Ant—” Stephen retorted, the sentence cutting off midway through as he realised that, no, Tony had never in fact called for the wizard to do so, because this was not one of those alternate realities hitting him hard. He sobered up quickly, went silent, put a finger on the page he was reading. 

Peter looked between the two of them, confused, well aware that Tony and Stephen had barely interacted at all. 

“Okay, I’m all set,” Strange said, handed Tony the book back. “If this works without any problems,” Stephen said, staring at the both of them. “It’s going to be a miracle.” 

Tony raised his eyebrows. “You’re literally looking at the man who was brought back to life last night. I’m fully confident in the belief you can perform miracles.” 

He winked at Stephen without thinking, not registering that it could possibly be perceived as a flirtatious comment. Tony was a natural flirter, always had been, with everyone. Steve Rogers, even, who’d never quite understood how to respond to it. It was just built in to Tony as a reaction, something from his childhood, one minor element of the brash I’m Tony Fucking Stark era of his youth, before Tony had realised that enough people knew his name that he didn’t have to flaunt it. The flirtation, however, had stuck and had become quintessentially Tony. 

Stephen blinked at him, saying nothing at the comment but his face contorted into a series of different emotions. Peter frowned again, alarmed. 

The wizard shook his head and focused, turned on Peter. 

Honestly, the next five minutes were a whirlwind of events. Strange was saying things, making actions with his hands and sparks that turned into magic circles. He was chanting things too, adding little bits to the spell. Peter was silent, as was Tony, for fear of messing anything up. He trusted Strange enough to let him do what he was doing without interfering. There was a circle of sparks around Peter, and Peter had closed his eyes instead of looking at it. 

Then Strange brought his hands together in one swift, sudden movement, and scattered the spell, spending sparks far and wide and turning the room, for just a moment, into a beautiful cacophony of golden sparks that danced around, before scattering. 

Tony got to watch as Stephen’s face changed—it was remarkable, really. 

“Kid,” Stephen’s face said it all, said everything, as he stared at Peter as though he was seeing a whole different person. 

Jealousy ripped through Tony again, watching Stephen’s expression towards Peter become so damn fond as he remembered everything they’d been through. That’s not healthy, Tony, he already said the Wizard wasn’t as good as you, don’t get jealous, it’s irrational, the kid is allowed to have more than one adult figure in his life. It’s normal, in fact. Jealousy is an ugly emotion. 

The attempt at convincing himself not to be jealous didn’t work very well. 

“Hey—Dr—Ste—Sir,” Peter stuttered, unsure. 

“I do believe we settled on Stephen, in the end,” Strange said, the corners of his mouth quirking up. 

Peter let out a whoop, and Tony’s face burst into a smile. 

“You remember! You actually remember!” The kid grinned, “Holy shit!”

Stephen looked content, too, “I remember.” He stared at Peter, then quietly muttered, “I’m sorry, kid, for doing that spell.” 

“Naw, s’okay. It was the only way,” Peter said. “Everything’s…well, everything’s perfect, now.” 

He shot a shy glance at Tony with a slight smile. 

“We should go and find your friends,” Tony said gently, not wanting to take Peter away from the moment with his other mentor, but also knowing the disoriented feeling that his friends would be feeling with their memories restored without a prior explanation. 

“Right,” Stephen said, straightened up, blinked. “I’m sure you have people to see. Places to go, and all that.” 

Peter nodded, the smile still dancing across his face. Tony put a hand on his shoulder to start guiding him out, then paused and turned back to the Sorcerer, who was standing as though he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. 

“Stra—Stephen. Thank you—seriously.” Tony said sincerely, “I’m sure I’ll be in touch. You know. About those items high up on the shelves.”

Because, after all, in some of those futures the wizard had seen, they’d been friends. And Tony was increasingly thinking he’d like to be friends with Stephen Strange. 

“Please take care of yourself, Anthony,” Stephen said, softly, and Tony nodded, hand on Peter’s shoulder still. Peter looked bemusedly between the two of them again, the hint of a frown on his face as he processed the words—probably the Anthony, really, more than anything else.

“And Peter, please tell Ned to pop along at some point.” Stephen winked. “I do believe we need to have a conversation about some training for him.” 

Peter grinned, then, and Tony’s brow furrowed in confusion. He got the vibe that he was missing the joke. 

“Ned’s magic,” Peter whispered to him as they left the New York Sanctum, leaving Stephen behind them. “Literally.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow, impressed. Peter’s friend was a sorcerer? How the hell had that happened? 

It was about nine am, somehow, by the time they were done with the restoration of the spell and emerged into Bleecker Street again. Peter paused as the door shut again, gestured to the door vaguely, gesturing to the wizard inside it. 

“Is he—?” Peter asked. There was a question, there, but it was clear Peter didn’t quite know how to finish it, hence the cut off. Peter looked at Tony with a raised eyebrow. It could have been anything, but Tony got the impression that the kid had been trying to ask whether the wizard was in love with him. 

“It’s complicated.” Tony coughed, not really wanting to explain the intricacies of Stephen seeing different realities in which they were somehow lovers. The concept of it was wild enough for him to comprehend without having to explain it to his child. 

“I thought he didn’t like you very much?” Peter asked, clearly thinking back to the ship on Titan in which the pair had spent the whole time arguing. 

“So did I.” Tony sighed, blinking as the morning sun struck him, and he put the sunglasses back on his eyes, this time having a necessary use for them. 

“You gotta get me a pair of those,” Peter whistled, covering his hand with his eyes as the sun blinded him slightly. 

“I have a spare pair in the car,” Tony mumbled to him, because of course he had a spare. He was Tony Stark, for christ’s sake. 

“Awesome,” Peter said, scuffing the pavement with his shoes as Tony unlocked the car. 

“Welcome back, Boss,” FRIDAY called as Tony sat back in. “And welcome back, Underoos” 

“She remembers me too!” Peter grinned, pointing at the speaker with excitement. 

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you be excited about that nickname,” Tony commented, remembering the fond days in which he’d called the kid ‘Underoos’, back in the early Spiderman’s mentor days, before he’d shifted into a pseudo-dad. He let out a breath, shook his head from remembering Leipzig, because remembering that meant remembering Siberia, and—

They didn’t have time for that. 

“Right, so, where are we going, kid,” Tony said, trying to dissuade his brain from thinking the decisively bad thoughts. 

“Um, so, my—um—friend works at this cafe, she should be there now cause it’s a day where she has a morning shift, it’s—uhh, I’ll put in the address,” Peter reached forward in his seat to type in the address of the cafe to the interface of the car. 

He did so, clicked on the ‘Go’ so FRIDAY would start tracking the best route there, and then turned to look at Tony, as though pensive. 

“I’ve never heard anyone call you that before—Anthony.” Peter said quietly. 

Tony commented, “I don’t really let people call me it. Tony is—well, Tony is more me.” 

The name Anthony reminded him of Antonio, reminded him of his mother, who was the only one who’d ever called him such a thing. Antonio, il mio bambino. It had been years, really, since anyone had addressed him as Anthony rather than Tony to his face. Occasionally it was read out on news reports, and it had always taken him by surprise. His head would snap up when they said Anthony instead of Tony and the people close to him knew him well enough never to use it.  

Antonio had died in the car crash alongside his parents.

“Okay,” Peter swallowed. “That’s cool.” 

New York was busier, Tony realised, as he drove through the morning rush of the city. It was back to how it was before, its thriving self, the hustle and bustle of the pre-Blip New York. He felt a smile snag onto his face at the sight of it. 

Tony felt a sudden urge to be honest with the kid, “It—um—reminds me of Maria. My mom.”

“Oh,” Peter breathed, “Did she used to call you that?” 

“Yeah—well, an Italian take on it,” Tony smiled, “It was a long time ago.” 

There was a brief pause. And then—

“May calls me—called—she called me her cucciolo, sometimes,” Peter mumbled back to him. 

“Italian, huh?” Tony murmured, hands lightly grazing over the steering wheel as the car turned. He felt immensely guilty for using the term bambino, knowing that May had used Italian nicknames for Peter. It explained the shocked expression Peter had adorned when he used it. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, thick with grief in his voice.

They pulled up to the side of the road, right outside a small café, some locally owned place with few people dotted around. Tony turned the car off. 

“We’re here, kid,” Tony said, his voice equally rough. He cleared his throat, watched as Peter tried to compose himself. Peter took a breath.

“Time to face the music,” Peter muttered, and stared at the window of the cafe. 

Chapter Text

It took Peter about another minute and a half before he could even face climbing out of the car. 

“They’re going to be so mad at me,” he muttered, twisting his hands together nervously. Peter’s face had drooped from the initial excitement that his friends had gotten his memories back, had contorted into a cloud of emotions. Worry, sadness, hesitation, a flicker of happiness. 

“They’ll be pleased to see you,” Tony argued, in a quiet voice that wasn’t really a protest, more meant to be a reassuring statement. Truthfully, Tony didn’t know enough about Peter’s friends to be able to judge. He’d heard…things, and had met Ned once. But then, people could change. People had changed. Peter had changed. 

“I promised, Tony,” Peter said, staring down at his lap. “I promised I’d go and find them, after. But I just…I couldn’t.” 

“They’ll understand,” Tony glanced at the kid, trying to be helpful and caring and considerate and all of those things he’d read about in the parenting books. When he and Pepper had decided they wanted to have a kid, she’d brought him a book for parenting teenagers, as well as ones about younger children. It had been in the early days of the Blip, when they’d considered adopting. Tony had read it and had applied all of the situations to him and Peter without realising he was doing so. 

It had been a low moment. 

Tony thought about the parenting books—of the initial stage of learning how to be a parent to a baby, and smiled softly at the memories, then frowned. If Peter’s friends’ memories had been restored, then it meant Pepper’s had, as well, and they would need to have a conversation about that. 

“I should probably call Pepper.” Tony sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. 

He felt quite tired, and assumed that was because he’d been dead for a year, so doing anything at all — let alone coming back to life, bringing back the memories of one Peter Parker to everyone who knew him and finding out there was a wizard who was in love with him all in the space of 24 hours — was quite a feat. 

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, staying put and looking like he didn’t want to move.

“But let’s do this first,” Tony smiled, poked Peter. “Out of my car, squirt.” 

“Squirt?” Peter made a face at the nickname, objecting to it. 

Well, Bambino had been a little too on the nose, so, time to try something else.  

“It’s that or Underoos!” Tony raised an eyebrow. 

Peter’s eyes widened as he climbed out of the car, “Squirt it is. But can’t you just call me Peter? Y’know. My name?”  

“But then I don’t get to see the annoyed look on your face when I call you a nickname,” Tony grinned, and Peter rolled his eyes in pretend annoyance. 

“So, who is it that works at this café?” Tony pretended to think. “Ted, was that his name? Something like that…” 

He knew fully well it was Ned. Tony had done a full background check on the kid’s best friend after he’d hacked into the multimillion dollar suit without blinking an eye about it. Teenagers scared him, sometimes. Most of the time. 

“It’s Ned, but no, he doesn’t work at the café,” Peter smiled slightly. “It’s MJ.”

A split second passed before Peter made an addition.

“She’s my girlfriend now.” 

Tony’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Peter had mentioned his — unrequited, or at least, so Peter had thought at the time — crush on the ‘prettiest girl in the world, Mr Stark, she’s so pretty’, or, as most people knew her, Michelle “MJ” Jones, captain of the Midtown decathlon team. 

He’d actually ranted a lot to Tony in the lab about his crush, so it was absolutely incredible—incredible news that the crush had ended up in a relationship. And from the content little smile on Peter’s face, he was happy with MJ.

Tony’s heart soared at that little smile, absolutely elated. “You told her!” 

“I did,” Peter nodded. “We got together when we were in Europe—”

Tony interrupted before Peter could continue. 

“Europe—did you get to go to Italy?” Tony’s mouth blurted out, before his brain kicked back in and he recognised that Peter going to Italy was not the question to be asking there. “Wait—hold on, what were you doing in Europe?” 

This was the kid who hadn’t had a passport before Tony took him to Germany, and suddenly he was jetsetting around Europe for some unknown reason.

“School trip turned Spiderman-extravaganza. Beck-related.” Peter winced. “That’s kind of where the whole thing started, really.” 

How the ever-loving fuck was it Beck related?

They'd reached the door of the coffee shop, and Peter looked around the street. There was no-one who was looking to enter the café other than them, but he still said, “I’d rather not get into it right now, not when we’re standing outside a coffee shop, it’s a little weird.”

But Tony frowned and stopped. “Beck related?” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Yeah, I’m going to need to hear a bit more about this Beck fellow.”

“You’re really not going to like it,” Peter warned him. He visibly winced, and Tony wondered what could possibly be so bad that Peter was wincing like that. 

“Yeah and that’s exactly why I’m going to have to hear about him,” Tony muttered as a response to that reaction. 

“Cool, but first,” Peter turned back to the door, swung it open, and they entered into—well, it could only be summarised as a catastrophe. 

There were no customers in the café. Thank fuck for that, Tony thought, as he cast horrified eyes over the shop. MJ had clearly been left to run it alone, because the coffee machines had been abandoned, with coffee cups overflowing, too full. Milk had been spilled on the counter — and not just some small spill, no, it was like a whole thing of milk. Chairs were in disarray, clearly as a result of it being the first hour of her shift that morning, and presumably she’d had quite the reaction to getting the memories of her boyfriend back. 

MJ and Ned were stood in the corner of the café. They were both standing over Ned’s phone, repeatedly pressing to call a number. Tony assumed it was Peter’s. It was the only thing that made sense, unless they’d entered an online game show. The former was definitely much more likely. 

“Just try it again,” MJ said, desperate.

Neither of them had noticed the new arrivals. Peter was stood with his mouth dropped open in shock at the situation, taking it all in. 

“I’m trying!” Ned said, pushing buttons on his phone roughly. 

“Pick up your damn phone, Parker,” MJ hissed at the phone as it made a jarring noise that implied the phone was shut off—no voicemail, no nothing. Just an odd series of beeps.

“Um…hi?” Peter said, out-loud, and both teens swivelled round to face him. 

Tony stepped back, putting Peter front and centre to keep the focus on him. He hadn’t even taken a second to consider the fact that the kids would be seeing not only Peter, but him too. Tony hadn’t broken the news to half of the people he was close with about him being alive (in fairness, he’d been pretty busy). Revealing the fact that Iron Man was alive again to two teenagers he barely knew — one of whom who Tony knew for a fact was bad at keeping secrets — seemed like a bad plan. 

He didn’t think he had much of a choice. 

“Peter,” Ned whispered, in almost the same exact tone as Peter had done when he’d seen the re-alived Tony for the first time. It was an oh my god it’s you kind of tone. 

“PETER BENJAMIN PARKER,” MJ shouted as she turned around to face him, and Tony stood up straight as he heard it — it was like May and Pepper put together, and it was terrifying. 

He loved her already. 

“You didn’t pick up your phone,” MJ said, danger in her voice, and Peter gulped. 

“I….got a new phone,” Peter admitted, wringing his hands nervously. 

MJ seemed to very much be in the Anger stage, whereas Ned was firmly in the Depression stage, if Tony had to rank their emotions.

“You said you’d come and find us,” Ned said, pained. “You—you never—”

“I’m really sorry,” Peter whispered. “Guys—I’m sorry. I didn’t want to put you in danger—it was stupid, I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, it was stupid,” MJ whispered back. They were a whole room apart, still, Peter by the door and MJ in the middle of the café. All of the teens seemed to be in shock.

“But you’re here,” she continued, and smiled. “Get over here, Parker.” 

Tony was immensely worried he was about to witness the kid kissing someone, and mentally cringed at the idea of it — yes, he was aware of how ironic that was considering Tony had in the past made fun of Peter for cringing when Tony and Pepper kissed in public, but this was different, this was his kid — but apparently the young couple had a different idea. It was simply a hug — a tight hug, could be interpreted as platonic, even, if Tony didn’t know better.

“You idiot,” MJ whispered into the crook of Peter’s neck, “You should have come and found us, told us.”

“I tried—but your cut,” Peter swallowed, pressed a gentle finger to the small scar on MJ’s forehead. Tony had no context, and blinked slightly. “I couldn’t let anything like that happen to you again.” 

“I love you,” MJ mumbled to him. Peter said it back, then hugged her tighter before pulling apart and glancing over to his best friend, still standing awkwardly over the other side of the room. 

“Bring it in, man,” Peter said—choked, really, and Ned looked like he was going to cry, too. It was startlingly emotional, as Tony watched on from the entrance still. No-one seemed to be paying him any attention. Ned approached, and they shared a brief hug, followed by their signature handshake. 

Yeah, Tony had seen it enough that he recognised it. 

The best friends separated too, and Ned seemed to clock that there was someone else in the room witnessing the exchange. He cast an eye over Tony, doing a double take. 

“Peter,” Ned said slowly. Tony was still hidden under the cap and sunglasses, but had been in Ned’s presence several times and had a bad feeling that yup, Ned definitely knew it was him. “Is that—”

Tony didn’t want to let panic cover Peter’s face as he, too, realised that Tony’s whole aliveness was supposed to be a secret, so he took charge and interrupted Ned before he could continue speaking. 

“Yeah,” Tony took off the cap and mask, and both of the teenagers hissed out loud in surprise as they saw his face. “It’s me.” 

“You’re alive?!” Ned whisper-yelled at the same time as MJ asked, “How are you alive?” It was said with a tone of suspicion, even if laced with some amazement at him coming back from the dead. 

Tony opened his mouth but Peter got there first. 

“He said,” Peter held his hands up to indicate quote marks, “And I quote, ‘Wizard shit’.” 

Tony shrugged, “It’s true enough.” 

Tony desperately didn’t want to admit to Peter that he was 99% sure Stephen had brought him back to life because he was in love with him and had a guilt complex almost the same size as Tony’s. Wizard shit was a less complicated story. 

“I think I need to sit down,” Ned said, “I’m feeling a bit wobbly, I’m sorry. I get all my memories of you back in one go—and then this? Tony Stark, being alive, and in my presence?”

“I’m just going to—going to shut the café for a bit,” MJ said, blinking and going over to the door, flipping the Open sign over to the Closed one. Both her and Ned sat down, looking entirely exhausted and bewildered. 

Tony’s phone — a burner phone, really, that he’d picked up at the last minute, and only had Pepper’s number on it — rang in his pocket, and he frowned and picked it up. 

“It’s Pepper,” he disclosed to the others in the room, and then turned around to let them have their own conversation in peace as Tony picked up the phone. He’d been expecting a call from Pepper. 

“Hey Tony,” Pepper said, her voice soft. 

“Hey, Pep,” Tony said tentatively in response, unsure of how to ask whether she’d remembered their missing kid. Unsure of how to broach that subject. “Do you—”

“We remember, Tony.” 

Relief, immense relief. He wanted to ask questions — was Peter back in the photo they had in the kitchen, what did they remember, what did they think about the idea of Peter moving in with them? — but Pepper beat him to it. 

“But we’ve got a problem,” Pepper continued. 

Seriously couldn’t Tony be happy for like a minute?  

The relief vanished before it had even had time to lay down its towel at the beach that was Tony’s sea of emotions. “Oh?” 

“Happy—um, left me a voicemail.” Pepper said, and shifted the phone, making a series of crackling noises. “Look—I’ll play it for you.” 

Several seconds of resounding silence played before Happy’s voice, worried and with a tone of urgency came through Pepper’s phone, slightly off because it was a recording. “Pepper, something really weird just happened to me, and I don’t quite know—what to, um, do, where to go—I think there’s something wrong with me? Like maybe..I’m going mad?” 

“When was this?” Tony asked, speaking quietly so he didn’t attract the attention of the kids. 

“About five minutes after Morgan and I remembered who Peter was,” Pepper said, “I don’t know how close they were—Happy and Peter, I mean, after your death, but…Tony, you need to see him, I think. He’s not doing great.”

Tony paused, let out a sigh, and closed his eyes slowly. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah—okay. I’ll come back. Um—I might,” he cast a glance over to Peter, hoped he was too invested in his own conversation to be listening to Tony’s. “I might bring the kid with me. Not sure yet.” 

There was a mutual understanding between them that there was more to be said in that conversation, but that Tony couldn’t word it over the phone, or in close proximity to Peter. Pepper likely had a strong suspicion about the whole wanting-to-adopt Peter thing, but was kind enough not to voice it. 

“Don’t do anything until I get back but—I’ll come back as soon as I can, okay?” 

“Okay, I love you,” Pepper said, and Tony smiled. 

“I love you too, Pep,” Tony spoke in a low voice, “Tell Morgan I’ll be back soon, and that she can have an extra juice pop if I’m not back by tonight.” 

“That sets a dangerous precedent,” Pepper commented. 

“True,” Tony nodded. “Eh, screw it. Just give her the extra juice pop, she deserves it. See you later, honey.” 

Pepper chuckled into the phone and promptly hung up on him. Tony wondered whether Pepper knew about May. If she didn’t, then he hadn’t wanted to tell her over the phone, it just wasn’t the way to do it, so he’d abstained. 

As he turned back around, Tony was able to tune into the conversation again. Peter was sat at the table, on the opposite side of Ned and MJ. Clearly they were getting caught up with things. Tony snapped a photo of them on his phone, wanting to keep it as a memory. He marvelled at the way Peter actually showed up in photos as he glanced his eyes over it. 

“Dude,” Peter said to Ned, eyes wide. “Strange said to tell you to go to the Sanctum.” 

“Me—go to the Sanctum Sanctorum?” Ned’s eyes were equally wide in surprise. 

“Yeah, dude! He said you needed to talk about training,” Peter grinned in awe. 

“Training…” Ned whispered. It was wistful. Tony kind of wanted to stay to see it — to see Ned being magic, because he thought that would be an amazing sight. The kid looked like he was going to faint at the idea of it. There was a small silence as Ned took in the idea. 

“Hate to break up the party,” Tony said, taking advantage of the quiet moment. “But I have to go back to the lake house, Pete, um, we’ve got a Happy situation.” 

Peter smacked his head in annoyance, “Oh god…he must have remembered,” Peter trailed off, before shaking his head and adding, “…Um, is he okay?” 

“Did something happen that I missed?” Tony asked the kid, who winced. “Because I didn’t think you and him were that close—”

“He and May dated after you died,” Peter clarified. 

Oh. 

So that was who the missing partner had been. 

“May and…Happy,” Tony blinked, slightly unsure what to make of it.

“Yeah,” Peter breathed, “He was there on the night she—um. Yeah.” 

MJ placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder for reassurance, and he looked down in his lap. 

“Okay,” Tony nodded, swallowing. “Okay. He’s—kind of having a breakdown, I think.” 

“So, we’re going, then?” Peter said, glancing between Tony and his friends as he stood up from the table.   

“Oh—kid, you don’t have to come,” Tony shook his head, lying through his teeth. He wanted more than anything for Peter to come, but he’d just given Peter back to his friends, and the kid probably needed some time with them. Tony had selfishly had him all last night and all morning. It was only fair that they got their fair share of Peter-time instead of him hogging it all. 

Peter looked surprised at Tony’s declaration, “It’s just, he’ll probably look for me…um, if you don’t want me to then I can stay here but…” 

“Of course I want you to come,” Tony replied instantly without processing the words that came out of his mouth. He wasn’t able to moderate them, his brain just told his mouth what to say. “I thought you’d want to stay here.” 

“You guys don’t mind if I go and sort Happy out, do you?” Peter inquired, turning to look at his girlfriend and best friend. They looked at each other, and then back to Peter. 

MJ shrugged, “I’ve got a café to run, doesn’t bother me.” 

“As long as you don’t disappear again,” Ned tacked onto MJ’s statement, but he had the same sentiment, nodding. 

“Then I’m coming,” Peter declared, and went over to stand by Tony. “I promise I won’t do anything stupid, I’ll text your numbers with my new phone, and I’ll be back as soon as I can, I will, okay?” He was reassuring them, but in essence he was really reassuring himself, Tony thought. Both of his friends seemed to understand as well. 

“We’ll be okay, Peter,” MJ said with a smile. “Ned has to go and get magic training, in any case.” 

“Okay then,” Peter breathed, nodded, looked at Tony. 

Tony was immensely pleased that Peter had such a good support group of friends, if he was being honest. It was clear that Stephen cared for the kid, too, so that was nice to see. He wasn’t alone in the world. He felt the need to communicate that, but didn’t want to embarrass Peter as he did so. What he settled for was an offering, if they ever needed to take him up on it. 

“If you have problems,” Tony looked at MJ and Ned, “Peter will give you the address to the lake house, and my phone. Please call us if you need anything.” 

He would open his home for the kids Peter called his friends without question. 

“Thank you, Mr Stark,” Ned replied in awe. MJ just nodded mutely. 

Tony made the same gesture back and put his disguise back on as he opened the door. Peter waved and gave the pair a final hug before he followed Tony out the door, flipping the café’s sign back over to open as he left. 

Tony stood by the car, and looked at Peter, trying to gauge his reaction. “That went well.” 

“Yeah, I think so,” Peter smiled slightly. “So, we’re getting on the road, are we?”

“It’s a long drive,” Tony warned, giving him the chance to opt out. 

“I don’t mind,” Peter smiled at him. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?” 

They both got into the car. 

“True,” Tony acknowledged, turning the car on then turned on Peter. “So tell me about this ‘Beck’ fellow,” he said as he pulled away into the streets of New York City again. 

Peter made a face that was the true embodiment of yikes. 

They stopped, of course, briefly at Peter’s apartment to enable him to take some things with him. He packed a bag, which seemingly held almost all of his items. When Peter packed his new Spiderman suit, Tony shot a glance at him. 

“Don't want to leave it here,” the boy shrugged. “You never know when you’ll be robbed, y’know?” 

Yeah, no fucking way was the kid staying at that apartment ever again. 

The journey was as long as it had been on the way there, in actual time and distance, but it felt shorter on the return because of the company Tony had with him. They spent it catching up. Tony learned all about Europe, all about Beck (and resolved to yell at Nick Fury the next time he saw the man for being a prick and roping a teenager into a scheme that had nothing to do with him). He also nearly crashed the car at several of Peter’s declarations about Beck himself. 

“So you’re telling me he was an ex-employee of mine,” Tony started. 

“Yup.” 

“And he hated me,” Tony continued. 

“Yup.” 

“So, because of that, he tortured you with EDITH’s drones to make you see hallucinations—what kind of hallucinations?” 

“Well, one of them was your—your grave,” Peter swallowed, “And you—a zombie you. It’s why I thought you were hallucination, I mean, I got them quite frequently after that. Nightmares, and such.” 

Rage, pure unadulterated rage. Tony almost swerved into the wrong lane as he clutched the wheel so tightly. He had never hated a man more, for pretending to be a mentor figure and then actually being a back-stabbing traitor man with the intention of trying to be a fake hero and torturing a kid — his kid — in the process of doing so.

“And he’s—dead—now, yes?” Tony checked. “This Mysterio?” 

Stupid name for a stupid man. Tony hated him already and he had no idea what he looked like. He was going to do some heavy research and possibly order a custom dartboard with his face on it, just to get the coursing rage out of him. 

“He is,” Peter affirmed. 

Tony was almost disappointed. 

“Well that’s a shame,” Tony muttered. “Because it means I can’t beat the living shit out of him for doing that to you. God, I’m so sorry Pete.” 

“It’s fine,” Peter shrugged. “Part of the hero gig, yeah?” 

Tony thought then, of Obadiah Stane, something he hadn’t done in years. He tried not to think about the guy who’d been there all throughout his childhood, who’d bought him birthday presents when he was five, and who’d presumably hated his guts that entire time. It ached in his chest thinking of Obadiah ripping the arc reactor out of his chest, ripping away the years of trust and camaraderie between them. Same thing as Beck, in a sense. He swallowed. 

“It shouldn’t be,” Tony shook his head. “You put your trust in people, and then…”

“Not everyone is a good mentor,” Peter sighed, put his head back against the headrest of the car seat. “Learned that one the hard way.” 

You’ve got me now, kid, you’ve got me back, I’m here, and it’s permanent. 

“Same,” Tony said instead, “You’ve got to have a support group of people, that’s what I’ve learnt, doing this. People you know who will be there for you through anything. Any time.” 

“Who’s your support group?” Peter asked, quietly, softly. 

“Shifted over time, I suppose, but the core of it is Pepper, Rhodey, Happy,” Tony said. It was like opening his heart, letting it bleed everywhere, showing the kid his vulnerabilities. 

“Cool,” the kid nodded, “I think mine is you, Ned, MJ, Happy too I guess, maybe Stephen although I’m not sure how happy he’d be to be included,” Peter babbled.  

Tony was included in there, first, without even so much as a blink from Peter. It sent a warm feeling through him, the casual acceptance of it all. And an ache at the fact May could no longer be included. 

From what Tony had seen, he thought that Stephen definitely would have been Happy to be included in Peter’s support group. 

“I think you’d be surprised how much he cares about you, kid,” Tony commented, and Peter shrugged. 

They settled back into a quiet silence, on the road, on the interstate. They stopped at a convenience station, disguise on, for some lunch, just some sandwiches and a bunch of snacks to keep the kid going, and then went back on track. Slowly they started to reach roads that Tony recognised, winding ones that took his full attention. He drove slower with the kid in the car, didn’t want to make him nervous. 

Neither of them had talked about the fact they were going to the lake house, not really, or discussed any plans for what after that. But a thought struck Tony, quickly. 

“Did you ever meet Morgan?” Tony asked, and then tacked onto the end, “My kid,” if Peter didn’t remember who that was. 

There was a weird pang on Peter’s face that Tony couldn't categorise before he answered, “Kind of, yeah. We haven’t—um—met properly, or anything. But I saw her at the fu—”

He cut off without being able to finish the word. 

At the funeral.

That was really not how Tony had imagined Peter meeting Morgan for the first time. He felt kind of relieved that they hadn’t been introduced to each other — not like that, in any case. 

“Oh,” Tony said, and chose to ignore the comment, moving swiftly on and Peter looked grateful for it as he did so. “Well, you’ll love her. She’s great. I’ll be offended if you don’t love her actually, considering the fact that she’s part me, so you have to love her.”

“Of course I’ll love her,” Pepper nodded, and then continued with a cheeky grin on his face, “But it will be because she’s half Pepper.” 

“That’s cold, kid,” Tony retorted back, but still smiling. He thought that there wasn’t much the kid could do to stop him smiling. 

Winding roads and light-hearted conversations kept them going. It was late, when they arrived at the lake house, when they pulled up in the driveway to the brown wood of the place Tony had felt best at home at in his whole life. He didn’t need a mansion, an expensive place in Malibu or a shiny Tower to feel at home no, it turned out all Tony Stark needed was a little house away from most of society. 

He thought that was possibly the Anthony within him, who he considered to be different to Tony Stark, with his flashy houses and the big corporation. He’d planned a whole life out once, in his late teens, for what his life would have been like if he was normal, not a celebrity. If he was just Anthony, not Tony Stark, not with the legacy that haunted him wherever he went. The naive teenager within him had pictured something like what he had: a safe job as a mechanic, a home, surrounded by people he cared about. The wistful idea of a family who he doted on came later, when he was able to get over the resentment in his teenage years, the vow he swore to himself that he would never condemn any child to the same fate as he’d gone through. Stark parents…well, if it was a trait that ran in generations, Tony hadn’t wanted to risk it. 

Then he’d grown up and realised that a family was something he wanted, in fact. Something to do with a whip-smart teenager with powers who made his heart have tremors whenever he did something stupid. So, yes, the idea of a family had roped its way into the pretend Anthony’s life. Anthony’s dream future had not been a plausible future within the realm of possibilities for Tony Stark, but Tony had gotten as close to it as possible with the lake house, with Pepper, Morgan. Peter. 

Peter’s face was white as he glanced over to the lake-house and as Tony parked the car. 

“You okay?” Tony said, glancing at Peter in alarm, annoyed at himself for not realising sooner, for letting his brain drift into a daydream about the alternate Anthony.

“Sorry,” Peter said, gulping. “This was—um, where the funeral was. Yours.” 

Right. Because Peter didn’t associate the lake house with being a home, a safe haven to come back to, no, he associated it with being the place where Tony’s funeral had been held. Great.

Tony was glad that Pepper had done it there, at the lake house, recognising that he would have wanted a mostly private ceremony instead of something stupidly flashy and for the media. No, it wouldn’t have been right to do it anywhere else. 

It still hurt, though, seeing Peter’s reaction as he stared out into the blackness, toward the small lake that came alongside owning the cabin as they got out of the car. There were cicadas, too, making their noises in the forest, as well as other creatures as the dark set in. Tony took a breath of fresh air, then, away from the city. 

Back home. 

He let himself into the cabin easily, unlocking the door and filing in, Peter behind him without a word. Pepper and Morgan were standing in the kitchen, preparing dinner, presumably. It was a bit late for Morgan, but then again, it had been a weird series of days. 

“Tony?” Pepper swung around from the sink as she heard the click of the door opening. 

“Daddy?” Morgan asked, too, a voice of hope. She was holding one of her toys as Tony glanced at her, and as they made eye contact, she grinned and rushed toward him. Tony lifted her up as she ran, swinging her around and settling her on his side comfortably. He ignored the twinge in his arm as he did so. 

Pepper approached too, slower than Morgan, and wrapped an arm around his waist to greet him. 

“You made it,” Pepper mumbled in his ear as she embraced him. “Dinner?” 

“Please,” Tony said, famished. He was sure the kid must have been starving, despite the two packets of gummy worms he managed to inhale in like seven seconds. 

“Hi, Peter,” Pepper said, as though it was commonplace and there was nothing weird about Peter being there. She was probably trying to not be weird about it, set the kid at ease, and Tony greatly appreciated it. “Dinner for you? We’re having leftovers from Christmas.” 

“Oh, um, sure,” Peter nodded, saying it quietly, shyly. Most of his attention was on Tony—but more specifically on Morgan, really, glancing at her with a small smile on his face. 

So was Morgan’s, in fact, as Tony turned to look at his daughter. Pepper went back into the kitchen, letting them have their moment, and busied herself preparing the meal. He booped Morgan on the nose, and pointed at Peter. 

“This is your brother, Peter, remember?” Tony asked her gently. 

“Yeah, I remember,” Morgan said, so quiet, so soft, and then, “Hi, Petey.”

Peter looked stricken at the use of the word brother, and Tony worried he’d overstepped the mark a little, but he quickly got over it and smiled back at Morgan. 

“Hi, Morgan,” Peter said in the same soft tone, “S’nice to meet you properly.” 

“Nice to meet you too,” and continued with, “Are you finally back from your mission?” 

Tony chuckled and watched as Peter’s face devolved into confusion.

“Mission—um?” Peter said, and Tony decided to interject before the illusion he’d created was shattered. Maybe telling Morgan that her brother was a superhero who had had to go on a mission — hence explaining his disappearance in the Blip — had been a bad idea after all. 

“Yeah, Morg, he’s back from his very important superhero mission,” Tony nodded.  

“So now he can be my brother!” Morgan grinned excitedly.

“Well—uh—” Tony stammered, unsure, not wanting to break any boundaries. They had absolutely never talked about Peter being part of the family in that way, being Morgan’s brother, being Tony’s kid. 

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “I can be—your brother.”

They stood awkwardly, Peter standing by the door, Tony with Morgan on his hip, not quite certain of their next move. 

“Can I get a hand with this?” Pepper said, breaking the silence, carrying several plates of food at once, clearly with the intent of carrying them over to the table. Tony’s eyes widened in alarm as he saw the precarious hold his wife had on them. 

“Of course,” Peter said, and rushed to save the day. He graciously helped Pepper carry the plates of cold turkey slices, mashed potato and an assortment of other foods that conveyed the spirit of Christmas over to the table. The kid was displaying as much politeness as was physically possible. Peter obviously felt like a guest, Tony quickly realised, and vowed to change that. 

“Wow,” Morgan whispered to Tony and to Tony alone as he watched Peter rescue the fate of their meal, “He really is a superhero, he stopped Mommy from dropping all those plates!”

Tony let out a bark of laughter before he could help it, followed by a further chuckle, and then took his daughter to the table as well, grabbing the remainder of the plates and sat down for their meal. 

Chapter Text

Dinner was a simple affair. Pepper clearly didn’t want to talk about Peter whilst Peter was sat right there, and none of the adults wished to mention Happy’s predicament whilst sat at the dinner table in front of Morgan, so they were stuck listening to Morgan’s thoughts on essentially everything she’d been up to in the time Tony had been in New York. 

She asked Peter’s opinion on almost everything she encountered: a habit she’d adopted over the years. Morgan was good at categorising information in her brain, Tony and Pepper had quickly worked out, and liked to know what people thought about things. It made her into an encyclopaedia of knowledge about her parents, and clearly she wished to add Peter to that cache of knowledge. Tony understood to his core what it felt like to be academically advanced in a world of people whose brains worked slower, and clearly so did Peter, who graciously answered every request without questioning it. As parents, Pepper and Tony actively encouraged the curiosity and unique brain capacity their kid had. And in effect, treating Morgan right was a way of curing the inner child within him, the Tony who had been told to shut up at every turn when he spoke for more than five seconds, being branded as selfish and loud-mouthed and always in the way by the age of ten when all he wanted to do was give his opinion. The last thing Tony wanted was for Morgan to feel the same way. 

They ate, and Morgan talked, and Tony noted that Peter ate much less than he used to. He suspected that Pepper had noted it too. The kid was much more polite, more muted than he’d been when they’d had dinner in the Tower before, when Tony had watched as Peter swallowed half a large pizza in about seven seconds. It was heartbreaking, seeing him take small amounts of turkey— clearly calculated to ascertain what his exact portion should be in relation to the other people dining — when he knew the kid had a fast metabolism and needed more food because he was enhanced.

He was going to say something, invite the kid to have another plate of food, but Peter looked so actively uncomfortable that he closed his mouth and focused on Morgan, deciding to bring it up with the kid later. 

Morgan dragged Peter off his chair as they finished, pulling him away to go and play. Tony mouthed a silent apology at him alongside a wince, but Peter waved it off with a smile and turned to talk to the young girl, leaving Pepper and Tony to have a much needed discussion. 

“What are we doing about Happy?” Pepper asked, quietly, as she washed the dishes and Tony dried them. He cast a glimpse over at Morgan and Peter, who were both sit in front of DUMM-E, talking to him and to each other, and then looked back at his wife. 

“Um—I’ll send him a text,” Tony said, feeling bad. “He’ll come round tomorrow morning, we can…break the news.”

That was going to go well. Hi Happy, yeah, I know you grieved me for a year and are currently going through losing a partner. Well, great news, I’m actually alive now. 

“And—James?”

“Rhodey,” Tony mumbled, his mouth dancing around the name of his best friend. “I’ll send him a text, too. His work schedule…well, he might not be able to come for a bit, but. I’ll try.” 

“The rest of the Avengers, everyone else?” Pepper continued, passing him another plate. 

Tony sighed, “No. Not yet. Let’s just keep this to us—just family. For a while. I don’t want to ruin it.” 

Pepper quieted for a moment, eyes drawn to Peter and Morgan playing with a soft smile. Then she glanced back to Tony, nodded at Peter. “How was it, seeing him again? Peter seeing you for the first time?” 

“It was rough, Pep,” Tony said in a low voice, trying to keep it down. Peter’s hearing was pretty extensive. “He’d been having hallucinations, he thought I was one of them.” 

He shook his head, touched his forehead. Tony let out a sigh, just thinking about all the things Peter had been through that Tony hadn’t been there for. 

“We tried to reach out to the Parkers when everything happened, with his identity being revealed, but I couldn’t get through to them, they had their phones—understandably—shut off.” Pepper sighed, too. “I should have done more, should have been there, but with Morgan and the company—"

“Hey,” Tony shook his head. “You couldn’t have known, it’s not on you. It’s on that piece of shit Beck—and Fury, too.” 

“Fury?” Pepper looked at him oddly.

Tony nodded. “Yeah, Fury got him into it in the first place.” 

He put away the stack of plates he’d dried as Pepper frowned. “But Fury’s not on planet, hasn’t been for ages.”

Tony blinked, did a double take, looked at her. “How many people are not on planet right now, seriously?”

Pepper raised an eyebrow, an eyebrow that said, oh so you heard about Steve, then? He ignored it, let her continue the conversation. “Nick’s busy, inter-dimensional travel or something, not entirely sure. He was being played by a Skrull, according to Maria.” 

“Well,” Tony said. “I guess I’ll blame the Skrull then. But it’s mainly Beck’s fault.” 

Pepper nodded, tutted. “Ex-employee of Stark, as well. Got to start doing some check-ups of everyone at SI.” 

“I think that would be wise, considering. Can I borrow your phone?” Tony asked, “Obviously I can’t use mine.” 

“Here,” Pepper said, and chucked it at him. It had scratches on it, one of the older Stark models from during the Blip. Pepper was the kind of person who refused to get a new one until the old one was completely dead and not functioning. Tony did screen replacements for her, so it looked good as new, but she always refused to let him do anymore. 

He made a mental note to replace the screen again, typed in the passcode and found his way to Happy’s contact to send him a reassuring text inviting him to the lake house the next morning. Then he did the same with Rhodey, telling him he should come over as soon as possible when he had leave, and ensuring to emulate Pepper’s typing style and patterns. There was a sense of urgency about the texts, but not enough that it would kickstart Rhodey (who turned into a puddle of worry when he saw urgent texts) into dropping everything to join them at the lake house. Tony didn't want to force Rhodey to haul his ass to come and join them if he was busy. 

“It’s late,” Pepper said, glancing at the time on the phone as he passed it back to her. “Time for sleep.” 

Tony swallowed. 

Metaphorical vines around his neck, tightening his throat. He touched his neck, clutched it loosely and let it go, trying to process the idea of sleep. Pepper padded over to the lounge, Tony remained, one hand on the kitchen counter, a grasp on it. 

“Morgan, honey, sleepy time,” Pepper called out softly. Morgan turned around to gaze up at her, away from Peter, who was looking at her too, dotingly. 

“But I wanna play more with Petey!” Morgan said, eyes bright. Her attention turned to Tony in the kitchen.  “Daddy he’s so smart!” 

Reluctantly, he let go of the kitchen counter. 

“He is pretty smart,” Tony concurred with a grin, walking over to join his family. “But Petey will still be here tomorrow, okay kid?” 

“Hmmm….okay, we’ll play tomorrow, Petey,” Morgan decided, and Peter nodded at her with a kind smile. 

“Let’s go,” Pepper said, held out her hand and Morgan grabbed it. 

“G’night, Morg,” Tony said as he waved at his kid when they went up the stairs, leaving him and Peter alone. Tony stood, and Peter sat on the floor beside DUMM-E, a hand touching the bot. Tony wanted to take a photograph of it, but resisted the urge. 

“Happy’s coming tomorrow,” Tony informed him. “We thought it made the most sense.” 

“Oh, cool,” Peter nodded, took his hand off DUMM-E and stood up. “Probably for the best.”  

“Yeah, we’ll…fix everything.” Tony nodded, “And we’re telling Rhodey as well.” 

“That makes sense. How about the others?” Peter mumbled quietly. 

“I don’t want to tell them yet,” Tony repeated, feeling a bit of deja vu from his conversation with Pepper. He could understand the merit in telling the Avengers, the entourage of superheroes. But he had his close circle, and he wanted to have some time with them before he did anything stupid like telling the rest of the world. Not that the Avengers were the rest of the world. But sometimes, to Tony, it felt like they were. 

Nat would have figured it out, he thought, a fleeting thought passing through his brain. She would have figured it out the second he woke up, would have been there. It was unfair, that he’d been brought back when there were so many people more deserving of it. If he was a good person — if he was anything close to a good person — he would have gone to Strange, and begged to bring the others back instead of him. Nat, Gamora, anyone they’d lost on the battlefield, but others, too — May, especially. But that was the crux of it, really. Tony Stark wasn’t a good person, he was selfish, and fuck it, he wanted to spend some time with his kids. Was it really so much to ask that he could have some time being happy? 

Tony got the feeling that Stephen would tell him no in any case, tell him it was too dangerous, that it was a miracle it had worked in the first place. Tony didn’t want to cause another feud with an individual he considered a friend called Steven, even if this one was with a ‘ph’ instead of a ‘v’. 

“That’s okay,” Peter said, after a moment’s silence. “I get it. Everyone wanted to be my friend, after my identity was revealed. People who didn’t even know I existed—before it happened, I mean. So I get it. You want to stay out of the limelight, just for a moment. Whilst you still can.” 

“I want to, but god, kid, I’ll probably go crazy,” Tony admitted with a chuckle. “I’ll give it three days and then want to go out in my suit, and that will be it, Tony Stark will be back.” 

“I don’t think so,” Peter shook his head, sagely. 

The kid was right, really. He’d been in the public’s eye long enough. Tony could last, just there in the cabin, having dinner and listening to Morgan rambling and Peter making funny quips and being able to hug his wife and just, just for a split second, be able to be Anthony the mechanic instead of Tony Stark. 

“Yeah,” Tony sighed, lightly touching the top of the sofa. “I’ll be able to stay out of the limelight for a while.”

“I think a while is pushing it a bit,” Peter raised his eyebrow, “You don’t have that much self-restraint. I reckon you’ll last at least…eh, about four days.”

Tony let out a spluttering laugh, one that made his stomach hurt, because the kid had always taken him off guard. He laughed for a long time, even though it hadn’t been that funny, and Peter made a pleased smile back at him. Tony could hear Pepper and Morgan pattering from the bathroom into Morgan’s bedroom, the floor creaking above them.

“You don’t have to play with her, y’know,” Tony said, gesturing to the place where Morgan had been sat. It had been—sweet, seeing it, seeing Peter be the big brother Tony had always imagined him being. He felt slightly bad, that he’d pushed Peter into it, had let him be whisked away by Morgan in order for him and Pepper to talk. 

“Oh, I don’t mind at all.” Peter smiled, “She’s kind of adorable.” 

Tony grinned. “She is, I’ll give you that.” 

“She’s like a combination of you and Pepper but young,” Peter commented. “It’s so weird.”

“That is how kids tend to work,” Tony quipped back, and Peter rolled his eyes at him in exasperation.

“Yeah, but it’s like more with her, I don’t know how to explain it,” Peter glanced at him, “I look at her and it’s just wow Tony and then five seconds later it’s like wow Pepper.” 

Tony smiled. 

“I see all the Pepper in her.” The corner of Tony’s mouth quirked up as he told the kid that, “Only occasionally do I see small flashes of me. Trust me, it’s weirder when it’s your own kid. Gives me a heart attack every time.” 

Seeing his own eyes, reflected on Morgan’s face, just slightly brighter and wide with joy—well, it had been jarring, at first. He’d learned how to associate them with Morgan, and how to cope with seeing Peppers’ mannerisms used by Morgan, too. 

“When I first saw her—after the battle—it took me by surprise.” Peter admitted. “It was like a mini you, y’know.” 

Mini-you. 

“Ha,” Tony barked out a laugh at that, as the phrase triggered a memory filtering through to the front of his brain, a distant conversation from before everything, when life was simple. “Funny you say that, kid. That was what Rhodey said when he first met you—accused me of having a kid and not saying anything.” 

It had taken Tony by surprise, that declaration, back when Rhodey had said it. That had been the early stages, when Tony hadn’t connected the fact that he cared about the kid and that he did almost everything to ensure Peter was safe to the rather obvious parental role in his life it was. That realisation had taken Tony a little longer. 

Rhodey hadn’t needed the time, had jumped the gun and had accused Tony of having a kid and hiding it from him. 

“Seriously?” Peter asked. 

“Yup, genuinely, he saw those big brown eyes of yours and decided you were a mini version of the me he met when I was fifteen and first rocked up to MIT.” 

“Wow,” Peter commented. “He never said anything.” 

“That’s because he was embarrassed of how insistent he’d been when he realised he was wrong. Every time I try to bring it up he will tackle me,” Tony smiled, thinking of the last time he’d brought it up, over dinner during the Blip with some of Pepper’s close friends. Rhodey had almost flipped the dinner table to try and stop Tony from telling the story—but had managed to restrain himself by threatening Tony that he would tell the guests about the Sock Incident of 1987. 

That had obviously been something that they’d both agreed to take to the grave, so Tony’s eyes had widened and had shut up immediately, much to the disappointment of the guests. 

“So…about tonight,” Peter said, looking awkwardly around the room. “Am I okay to take the couch? I can take the floor, but if no-one’s using the couch, then—”

“God, no, kid, we’re not going to make you sleep in here,” Tony shook his head. “Follow me.” 

They trudged upstairs, quietly stepping over the creaky step to let Morgan sleep. She’d been settled into bed, because it was quiet and Tony could hear Pepper in the other room. 

“Ton—Mr Stark—you really don’t need to give me a whole guest room,” Peter spluttered. 

“Guest room?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Nah, kid, it’s your room.” 

“My room?” Peter echoed, confused. 

“Yeah, when we bought the place, we made a room for you,” Tony admitted, swinging the door to it open. He had very rarely gone into it, because it mostly made his heart ache with possibilities, but no, it had a use for it. Peter was actually going into it, and Tony watched as Peter took in all of the Star Wars merchandise, the lego—everything he’d associated with the young teen. 

It had been in the early days of the Blip when they’d designated the room as Peter’s, because Tony hadn’t been able to let go. A coping mechanism, Tony decided, to justify it.

“T—Tony, I—” Peter sounded choked, steadying himself on the desk. 

Tony rubbed a hand over his eyes, “It’s—I know it’s not really the kind of stuff you probably like, now, and it’s too much, too far, you never lived here, but we just thought…” Tony searched for the words, anything to say to try and explain it. 

There were no words that fit. 

“It’s amazing,” Peter breathed, touching one of the Star Wars posters on the wall, turning and facing Tony. His eyes were bright—and shit, in that moment, yeah, Tony could see it. He could see in the same way he saw his own eyes on Morgan’s face every day, he could see that reflected on Peter’s face. 

It was the first time he’d seen Peter’s eyes that bright since he’d been reunited with the kid—more than when he saw Tony initially, more than when Stephen had remembered, even more than when he’d seen MJ and Ned again— and the joy that fact swept through him surprised even Tony himself. 

Peter rushed at him, too fast for Tony to realise, and encased him in a tight hug. 

“Thank you so much,” Peter mumbled into the flannel Tony was wearing, and in the time it took Tony to process that he was being hugged, Peter had already released him and turned back to the room. He’d brought his bag from downstairs — Tony hadn’t noticed that. He placed it on the bed and spun back to Tony.  

“You’re welcome here, Pete.” Tony said, suddenly. “In case you thought otherwise. It’s—well, please don’t feel the need to be any different from how you normally are.”

Please, it’ll break my heart if you do, Tony thought. 

He wanted to say It’s your home too, anytime you want, for however long you want. But it was late and the kid looked like he wanted to sleep. It wasn’t the time. Peter’s living arrangements were a query for another day.

“Thanks,” Peter whispered. 

“Night, kid.” Tony said, nodding and exiting the room without saying anything further. He padded over to his and Pepper’s room, curling his fingers over the doorframe as he stepped through it. 

Pepper was there, sat in bed, with her back against the headboard as she read a book. She closed it as she looked up at him, reading his every emotion as she did so. 

He still didn’t want to go to sleep. There was something about it — lying down on the bed, closing his eyes — that was still foreboding, still overwhelming, even when he knew he was going to wake up the next morning, courtesy of Stephen Strange. And yet…the idea of sleep loomed over him like an impossibility. 

“I can’t,” He whispered to Pepper, standing by the side of the bed, staring at it. “I—not tonight.”

It was familiar to their old set-up, their life pre-Morgan. When Pepper would come down to his lab, clamour for him to go to sleep, demand it, really. He would be drained, half the time dying of something like palladium poisoning, and would refuse to join her. Tony during the Blip, on the other hand, had had a pretty regular sleep schedule, at least once Morgan had learned how to sleep through the night. Turns out, when you’re not a regular superhero and going through repetitive trauma, fighting, learning things about your past, going through betrayals and losses and injuries…you can get some better sleep. 

There had still been bad nights. There were always bad nights. But it had been better, momentarily. The lake house had been a place of peace, for Tony, and for his mind. 

He’d built the lab for a reason, though. 

In case his fingers itched, just slightly, for when he felt the need to build a piece of tech, no matter what it was, no matter whether it was something as domestic as being able to fix their golf buggy which they kept on the grounds when it broke. 

And as he stood there, standing by the side of the bed, looking at it with trepidation, his fingers itched. They itched, mainly, because Peter had a suit, he had a suit and it was a good suit, but it didn’t protect him as much as it needed to, and that made him worried. He was an inventor, after all, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make the kid as safe as possible. 

“That’s okay,” Pepper said. “You want to come lie down in any case?” 

“I think—I’m going to—” Tony stuttered, unable to finish the sentence. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, honey,” Pepper said with understanding, picking her book back up with a smile. 

He let out a breath of relief and backed away from the bedroom he’d woken up in, creeping back down the stairs and into the basement to the lab he hadn’t been into for over a year. He flicked the lights on as he did so and cast his eyes over the dust-covered surfaces. It was weird not having DUMM-E in there, but maybe it was better that he got to be an integral part of the family.

Tony spent several minutes flipping pieces of paper that were related to the time travel into the trashcan he kept by the door, wincing as he looked at them. And then, when his workspace was clear…

“Right, FRIDAY,” Tony said, clapping his hands together. The basement was soundproof, so he was free to make as much noise as he wanted without the risk of waking up the others. “Will you project Project Underoos into view for us? It’s time to make the kid another suit.” 

The next six hours were a blur, if Tony was honest. He didn’t process time well when he was working, so one hour became two, and then four, but he was productive enough that it was worth it. He designed several different suit options for the kid, taking inspiration from the suit he’d watched Peter web around in the night previously. He figured the inspiration had been from the alternate versions of him that he’d met, and Tony wanted to incorporate it into the new suit design. But at the end of the day, it was the kid’s suit, so he didn’t do too much to the design, just set it up with all of the background stuff — the more durable material, the AI and technology that had been in it before Tony had died. He also set up a couple of different experiments with new web fluid ideas, none of them likely to be that usable but it was always good to check. Then he moved onto his own suit, knowing before he attempted to make Peter’s new suit into a reality, he had to consult the kid on it. 

So Tony spent another couple of hours working on his own suit, designing concepts, discretely getting FRIDAY to order metal from sellers that wouldn't talk. Iron Man was always going to be a part of him, and he’d gone too long without designing a new suit, so even if he wasn’t going to be one of the main Avengers…well, Tony would always be Iron Man. 

By the end of it, when he glanced down to his phone, he realised it was about eight am. He stepped back, admiring the hologram designs in front of him. Then he yawned, rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. 

“God,” He muttered to himself. Yeah, he was exhausted. That was to be expected considering he was going off forty eight hours of being awake, but he’d done longer before. It was only taking a toll on him now because it was the first time he’d done it in years. 

He trudged up the stairs of the basement to get some coffee, to be met with Peter standing in the kitchen with a glass of water. 

“You didn’t sleep?” Peter said, able to know just from glancing over Tony once.

“Couldn’t,” Tony replied, monosyllabic. “Lab.” 

He tended to be that way after a night in which he had had no sleep, and a morning without any coffee, using one word sentences to get by. Peter understood and didn’t question it. 

“There’s a lab here?” Peter said, frowning. Right, they’d never given Peter a proper tour of the lake house. 

“Basement,” Tony nodded at the stairs with a vague wave to the downstairs. 

“You’ll have to excuse my husband,” Pepper said as she came into the room, looking ever perfect and ready for anything. She’d already been up for hours working, likely, and had known better than to go downstairs and greet Tony when he was in a lab binge. Standing next to her, with his eye-bags and the greasy t-shirt on his person, his hair likely sticking up in tufts from the lab work, he looked wholly dishevelled. “He hasn’t slept.” 

“S’okay,” Peter smiled, reached for his cup of water, “He’s communicating well enough.”

“He needs coffee,” Tony said, and slid over to the coffee machine. 

“What he needs is to sleep, actually,” Pepper commented, but it was light hearted, without true meaning. She seemed to understand his inability to place his head on the pillow. Naturally, it did mean he was going to be awake for many more hours and his head was kind of spinning, but it was nothing a cup of coffee couldn’t fix. Or three. Or five.  

“Mm,” Tony hummed, pouring his cup of coffee and ignoring the insinuation that Pepper wanted him to sleep. It was self-destructive, avoiding it, possibly, but Tony didn’t care. He could last the day.

Peter was hovering. He kept glancing to the cupboards, then back down at his cup of water, eyes skating everywhere. 

“Would you like some breakfast, Peter?” Pepper put a stop to his misery. 

“Yes please,” Peter said quickly, relieved. 

Tony smiled, sipped more of his coffee with a resounding smirk. He was still being polite, but Peter had always been polite to some degree. They’d get him back to stuffing half a pizza into his mouth in no time. 

Well. That was if he ever brought up the looming subject before them: where Peter was going to stay. Tony winced at the thought of that conversation, drained the rest of his coffee, refilled it, and turned to Peter. He watched for several minutes as Peter ate his cereal, not saying anything, just mulling ideas and ways to bring it up over and over in his head. He was about to say something when—

“Boss, I feel it is necessary to inform you that one of the new experiments has exploded.” 

Oh, shit, the webs he’d put in the flasks several hours previously and had left unattended to see what the reaction would be to several new compounds. One of the flasks must have reacted badly. 

“I’ll be back,” Tony promised. Peter let out a chuckle and reached for the cereal box to have some more cereal, at the encouragement of Pepper who had pushed it closer towards him once it became evident that he’d finished his first bowl. 

“Oh, Tony,” Pepper sighed, but it was said with fondness, and Tony grinned cheekily as he vanished back into the basement. 

It was a quick fix, in the end. The ‘explosion’ was contained to a small area, and nothing was hazardous. He set one of his bots on the task of cleaning it up, and then pulled out his phone as he went back up the stairs, slowly, not in any rush. 

“I’m really glad you’re back, Peter,” came Pepper’s voice, and Tony stopped, suddenly second guessing his decision to come up from the lab so soon. There was some instinct that was screaming at him to let Peter and Pepper have their own talk, like it was necessary. He didn’t open the door, instead pausing and listening out for their voices. 

“Yeah…I really missed him,” Peter whispered to him. “It’s so…”

Peter trailed off, like he didn’t have the words, and Tony’s throat felt tight again for a reason he couldn’t fathom. 

“Surreal, isn’t it? Him being back again, trust me, I know how you feel.” Pepper let out a chuckle. 

“Surreal, yeah, that’s the word—I just couldn’t believe it was him,” Peter said. 

Pepper might have nodded, at that, but it was a bit hard to tell from behind the door. “I thought it was some tech, some cruel joke someone was playing on me.” 

“Yeah,” Peter quieted, then continued, “I thought he was a hallucination. I got them, sometimes, of him. Nightmares, and stuff.” 

“Do you still get nightmares of—the battle, like you said before?” Pepper asked. Tony’s heart froze. The battle—did she mean….

Peter laughed bitterly. “Can’t get rid of that one. I still see him die. Almost every night.” 

The kid got nightmares of him dying. Tony closed his eyes, tight, pained. He thought back to when he was the same age as Pete, when his dreams had been haunted with car crashes, with his parents dying, and Tony hadn’t even been there to see the car crash. It had been an illusion he’d created for himself. Peter had been there, had seen him die. And it had been on repeat ever since then, replaying in his head. 

Tony had to be the worst fucking mentor in history, for that declaration alone. 

“I remember, now, about May and Happy being together,” Pepper said softly, quietly. Tony had to strain to hear it properly, though the door.  “Peter is—is May—is she—?”

“Yeah,” Peter confirmed, voice unsteady, “She’s gone.” 

“Oh, sweetie,” Pepper said, and there was a shifting noise as Pepper clearly reached over to hug him. Tony took a peek, then, unable to resist it. He cracked open the door slightly to watch as Pepper held Peter. The kid wasn’t crying, had put down his spoon, but offered Pepper a weak smile as she pulled away from the hug. 

They both quickly noticed that Tony had returned, and Peter picked up his spoon and started to eat his breakfast faster than he had previously. 

“Explosion handled?” Pepper asked, and Tony blinked, having forgotten about his purpose after hearing that conversation. 

“Oh—yeah. Nothing to worry about,” Tony nodded, glancing over Peter. 

Tony thought about it. Thought about voicing his thoughts, the ones spiralling around in his brain, unable to vanish them. Thought about asking the kid to move in, about becoming the family of four he’d always intended his family to be. He just had to figure out the right way to word it…

He settled on—“Wanna see the lab, kid?” 

Wait—shit, that wasn’t what he’d meant to say. 

Damn. His mouth was rebelling against him, refusing to have an emotional conversation over breakfast. Probably a good idea, really. He had no desire to have that chat in front of Pepper. Really, he should probably talk to Pep about the whole let’s adopt this kid and let him stay with us thing before bringing it up with Peter, so, good call, mouth. 

“Um, do you even have to ask?” Peter said, taking it in his stride and shovelling the last of his second bowl of cereal into his mouth. He placed the bowl and spoon into the dishwasher with a grin at Pepper.

“Happy’s coming at 10, he sent a text, so you haven’t got long,” Pepper warned them as Tony took his coffee mug over to the door to the basement and cracked open the door. 

“Hap’s seen enough motor oil stains on me not to care,” Tony shrugged, deflecting. 

“You know what I mean,” Pepper replied, and he nodded silently. 

“We’ll be there,” Peter promised. “I’ll get FRI to set a timer.” 

“Timer is set,” FRIDAY announced. God, Tony loved his AI so much.  

“Thanks, FRIDAY!” Peter said cheerily.

“I’m starting to thinks she likes you more than me,” Tony grumbled, ruffled Peter’s hair, and descended back into the basement, cup of coffee still in hand.

“Woah…” Peter said simply as he saw the state of the lake house’s basement. It was similar to the lab at the Tower, but less…flashy, Tony supposed. Still capable of the things the other lab was, but it was slightly more understated. 

“So, suit for you,” Tony said, rapping his knuckles on a workbench and bringing up the hologram, a blank slate so to speak. 

“I’ve got a suit,” Peter said defensively.

Tony sent him a withering look, with a raised eyebrow. “It’s fabric. If you get shot, what happens?” 

“I heal fast,” Peter shrugged. “And I can dodge bullets, remember.” 

Great, so the kid would bleed out. Perfect. 

“I also remember the time you got stabbed, and that was with my suit. I dread to think what would happen with a suit of purely fabric.” Tony said.

“Hey, don’t diss my suit,” Peter tutted, “Besides, I actually designed another suit myself, on the jet, a while back, pre-identity reveal,” Peter said. “Full tech capabilities and all.” 

Tony winced, “On the jet?” 

There was nothing wrong with the jet, per se, but the idea of Peter making one of his suits there practically gave Tony heart palpitations then and there. It was just—lacking. Not the best. He’d installed semi-lab equipment there for emergencies. 

“Yeah, it was awesome.” Peter grinned.

“Wait, if it had full tech capabilities then why haven’t you been wearing that one?” 

Peter raised his eyebrows and stared at Tony.

There was a click of realisation. “Right, it didn’t recognise you once everyone’s memory of you was wiped, yup, as you said before.”

“Hence the new suit,” Peter nodded. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Tony held up his hands, “I love the new suit. Design is cool—I presume it’s somewhat based off the suits from the other yous?” 

“Yeah,” Peter smiled fondly. 

“So, I reckon we take the beauty of that,” Tony said, and proceeded to pull up the holograms he’d spent all night working on. The different suits spread out across the workbench, and Peter stared up at them. “And then incorporate that into a suit that will protect you from a stray bullet.” 

“This is so cool,” Peter said in awe. “I missed the lab.” 

“Me too, kid, me too,” Tony mumbled, and went back to tapping the side of the workbench with his knuckles as he let the kid examine his night’s work. Peter quickly started to pull apart the hologram, changing things and Tony got stuck into it as well. They made several changes from Tony’s base designs, and it felt good. Letting the kid make choices, changes that suited him better. It felt like he was passing on the reins, but still being there for him.  

The timer buzzed, pulling them out of their lab session, and both of them seemed surprised as it did. Neither Peter nor Tony made a sound as they walked up the stairs, a silent promise to finish the work they’d started later, when things were less hectic.

Pepper had gone back to work, and finished up a work call as they re-entered the living room. Morgan was sat chatting to DUMM-E, who seemed perfectly content with his companion. She grinned as she saw Peter, and waved at him. Peter smiled and waved back.

Tony was about to walk over and say good morning to his girl, but all of them heard as a car pulled up onto the gravel outside. Peter’s head turned to face the door. Tony let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and Pepper walked over to squeeze his hand. 

“Right, then,” he muttered under his breath, shooting an exaggerated grin at Morgan to mask the anxiety he felt within.

Time to see Happy be….well, not so happy after all.

Chapter Text

“It’s better if I stay away, right?” Peter said, his eyes dancing between Tony and Pepper. “Let him deal with one thing at a time, you being alive. Me being here might set him off, too much in his head.”

Tony made a noise of discontent, because, no, Happy was coming over because he’d just remembered Peter and had his memories restored, it made the most sense if Peter and Pepper were here, then Tony could reveal himself later. 

“Surely it should be the other way aroun—” Tony started, but Peter shook his head. 

“Nope, I can’t lie for shit, I’ll tell him accidentally, you have to go first,” Peter rambled, and, yeah, fair enough, that was accurate. Peter had never been a very good liar. 

“So you get to hide whilst I do the hard bit?” Tony said, incredulous.

“Absolutely. I’ll be in here, playing with your daughter. Best of luck. I really don’t want to see his reaction to all—that,” Peter gestured at Tony, waving his hand from Tony’s head down to his feet.

Tony shot a glare at Peter, but he couldn’t blame the kid really. If he had the choice, Tony too would opt out of revealing himself to Happy, who was clearly unstable and almost certainly not ready to be faced with a blast from the past (aka himself). Tony shot a glance out of the window at the car and winced, then nodded silently at Peter, settling for his idea. In the end, Tony was the adult, and Happy was principally his friend. It made the most sense for Tony to handle this situation. Peter went and settled next to Morgan, who seemed perfectly content to be sat down instead of in on the action.

Tony took another deep breath. 

“You’ve got this,” Pepper said, a comforting hand on his shoulder. She opened the door and went to wait out on the porch. 

“I’ve got this,” Tony repeated. He stepped out of the door, following Pepper. 

It was a crisp morning, the sky shining blue and the trees rustling with the light breeze. Yet, his brain was full of clouds, lightning, storms. A cacophony of nerves and fear. Happy got out of the car—trudged, really—not looking at the door-way where Tony stood, waiting for him to look up.

He wasn't ready.

“I don’t think I’ve got this,” Tony muttered under his breath as he took in Happy’s proximity, taking a step back. Tony felt like he was going to throw up. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Pepper said, a hand covering the door. She clutched onto his hand and he tried to calm his beating heart. 

It didn’t work too well. 

As Happy walked closer to the door, he saw Pepper and launched into words. His voice was shaky, “Pepper, I need you to—”

Then he looked. Really looked. 

Happy swallowed — gulped really — as his eyes fell on Tony. Something in Tony broke as he saw his friend squeeze his eyes tightly closed, open them again, and start to sob. He covered his hand over his mouth and turned to Pepper.

“I’ve gone crazy, Pepper. First—memories came back to me—now this—him,” Happy said, voice deep with emotion. “I see….he’s there. Tony’s standing behind you.”

Tony was mute, his mouth unable to form words as he watched Happy have essentially a breakdown right in front of him. He should have said something, should have said anything, but he just couldn’t. The words weren't forming in his mouth. Static. Nothing. 

“It’s real, Happy,” Pepper replied quietly, saving the day as always. She held up her hand, entwined in Tony’s. “He’s here, he’s back.” 

There was a fierce ripple of love that shot through Happy — visible in his eyes. It blossomed as he  cast his eyes back to Tony, looking him up and down. Then the man blinked — once, twice — as he seemed to take it all in. 

“I think I need to sit down,” Happy told them, stumbling slightly. He gripped onto the banister of the porch, still staring at Tony. He looked as though he wanted to reach out and touch Tony, just to check. To make sure he was actually standing there, that it wasn’t a trick. 

Tony gave him a weak smile, and said nothing. It was too big for words, really. 

“Come in, Happy,” Pepper said, letting go of Tony’s hand to re-open the door and leaving the pair of them standing on the porch. Happy’s eyes were trained on him still. 

“You are actually here, aren’t you?” Happy whispered to him.

“I am,” Tony replied, swallowing sharply, avoiding the lump in his throat and all the feelings that accompanied Happy’s arrival. “Old news by now, really.”

He glanced down to Happy’s side, for the first time noting the Burger King bag that seemed oh-so-very out of place given the situation. “Did you bring me a cheeseburger, Hogan?” 

Happy let out a bark of laughter, holding the bag up. He was still clinging to the banister from before. “It’s for Morgan. Kid loves ‘em. Got that from you.”

Oh, yes, Tony remembered well enough. He’d been training Morgan to love cheeseburgers ever since she was an infant. Whenever they’d entered the real world—left the lake-house and went back to civilisation—he’d treated her to a burger. Good to see it had paid off, the childhood Pavlovian indoctrination.

Tony grabbed the bag, peering into it quickly and gasped mockingly at what he saw. “Only one, Hogan? You’re raising my kid to be a sole-burger-consumer?” 

“She’s a child, Tones, she can’t eat more than one,” Happy told him. 

“Shame on you, Happy.” Tony retorted, shaking his head. “Shame on you.” 

He figured if he kept the tone light, it would relieve Happy of the emotional dilemma he was wading through by himself. Happy was quick to retort, also having settled back into their typical slightly-snarky tone of conversation.  

“Not all of your children need to eat twice the normal amount of food in order to survive. She’s not…” Happy cut off his sentence with a stifled cough, and glanced away. 

She’s not Peter. 

It was the first mention of Peter since Happy had arrived, and it cut off their casual banter quickly. Tony gave up on the light conversation, intrigued. 

“So you do remember,” Tony breathed. He’d wondered how to bring it up, but hadn’t thought it the best idea given he’d just surprised the man by being alive. 

“Of course.” Happy’s eyes skated to the floor. “Look—can we sit, please? Before we have this conversation? I think I’m about to collapse.” 

True enough, Happy’s legs had started to shake, and Tony hadn’t noticed. Tony quickly stood up from his position leaning on the doorframe and let Happy in, who seemed fairly at home given the fact that he (in Tony’s knowledge, at least) had only been round to the lake house a couple times.

Tony strolled in and the kids’ attention turned to look as he entered, followed by Happy. Pepper had busied herself making drinks, but Peter and Morgan were still sat on the floor. Peter was sat crosslegged, but as he saw them enter in the room he stood up and clasped his hands together. His face—well, it was pale and looked guilty, much like it had before he’d seen Ned and MJ. 

Morgan ran up to the new arrival immediately and clutched Happy’s leg tightly. “Uncle Happy!” 

“Hey, squirt,” Happy smiled, messing her hair up and sitting down on the sofa. He was smiling, content, and then his gaze fell on Peter for the first time and his smile faded. “Hey…Pete.” 

Right, Tony hadn’t said anything about Peter being there, that had probably been a mistake. 

Morgan glanced from Peter to Happy with a slightly confused expression. 

“Hi, Happy,” Peter replied, clearly trying to keep it light and failing abjectly. Happy’s face contorted through several emotions but Tony couldn’t quite place them. 

Pepper brought over the drinks on a tray, handing one to Peter on the other side of the room. 

Happy took that distraction to turn to Tony and whisper accusatorially, “You didn’t tell me he was right here!”

Tony watched as Peter’s face fell in disappointment. Pepper turned and handed Morgan her glass of juice, and gave the others glasses of water. Tony blinked. Was Happy an actual idiot? 

“Dude,” Tony replied, glancing between Happy and Peter. “You do remember the kid has super hearing, yeah?” 

Happy glanced at Peter, whose attention was fixed firmly on them. “Shit,” he swore. 

Peter’s gaze dropped to the floor, and Tony could actively see as Peter retreated back into the emotionless shell he’d been when Tony had first seen him in his apartment. It was a layer of protection, and Tony felt it to the core of his very being. He’d literally curled into himself. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Tony’s head was throbbing in pain, the amount of stress it was all giving him. 

Morgan’s mouth had dropped open at Happy’s swearing. “That’s Mommy’s word!” 

“I’ll let Uncle Happy use it, just this once,” Pepper whispered, smiling at her and leaning on the couch. 

“Maybe I should just…go,” Peter muttered, eyes darting to look at them and then moving back to the floor. Tony put himself in Peter’s shoes for a second. Tony and Happy on the couch, Morgan in between them and Pepper partially sat on the arm of the couch, whilst Peter was standing across the room — separate in almost every way. 

“No—kid,” Tony quickly shook his head, standing up from his position. “Look, c’mon, I’ll sit on the other couch, come join me.”

He desperately didn’t want the kid to go. To leave.

Tony made an exaggerated movement patting the cushion next to him on the other couch. Peter took a second to hesitate and then acquiesced, sitting next to Tony. Happy’s eyes were dancing between Peter and Tony as though he didn’t quite know where to look.

The rest of his family didn’t have super hearing, but he was pretty sure they heard his next words, even as he whispered them to Peter. “Didn’t mean to leave you out, kid.” 

Tony should have known better, should have been better. He knew that Peter was fragile, and still. 

He would make an effort to be better. 

Peter said nothing in response. Something ached in Tony’s chest. A silence enveloped over the room. Morgan seemed to be waiting expectantly, her eyes trained on the bag Happy was holding. He noticed her watching and let out a small smile. 

“Is that for me, Uncle Happy?” Morgan asked in the sweetest of voices. 

“Hmm…I don’t know…maybe I should give it to your dad,” Happy retorted teasingly. 

He brought her a cheeseburger, Tony thought. Damn good uncle. Even if it is only the one cheeseburger. Morgan seemed to consider Happy’s suggestion, glancing between the bag and Happy before talking. 

“Oh yeah! He likes cheeseburgers,” Morgan turned around to look at Tony with wide eyes. “Daddy do you want some?” 

Tony tore his eyes away from Happy and back to his little girl. He smiled and said, “I’m alright, kiddo, you have it.” 

Happy handed it over dutifully and Morgan grinned as she saw the contents, letting out a squeal. 

“Alright, munchkin,” Pepper called, chasing her from behind before she could get greasy fast-food fingers all over the couch. “Let’s go and eat this in the kitchen.” 

It was a calculated move. Pepper was so much smarter than him in every way. They couldn’t have the conversation they needed to have with Morgan around. His wife shot him a pointed look that meant, talk to them. 

Cool. It was up to Tony to kickstart this extremely awkward conversation.  

Peter and Happy were staring at each other. Tony made a move to open his mouth, to say something, anything, but Peter spoke first, “I’m sorry.”

Happy made a pained noise. “No, I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have left you. I should have been there, at the battle, with the other Peters.”

“I had it handled,” Peter retorted. Tony raised his eyebrows. Having it handled wasn’t exactly what Tony would call it, given the state he’d found Peter in as a result of that battle. Typically, everyone’s memories of you being erased wasn’t a success story for a battle. 

“Right,” Happy let out a bitter chuckle. “Wanna explain how I couldn’t remember you until yesterday morning, then?” 

It was like a tennis match, watching them bicker back and forth. There was no true malice in it, but Tony could tell that Happy was hurt that Peter hadn’t gone to him, at any time. Tony understood. He would have been more than hurt, if it had been him. He would have been devastated. 

Yet again, there was a feeling of relief for his death. If Tony had been alive, then maybe no-one would have ever remembered Peter. Not that he would have let it get to such a dire situation that the whole memories situation would have ever happened. Tony would have handled Beck. Mysterio. Fury. All of them, if it meant protecting Peter. 

Tony shut his eyes, forced himself to stop thinking of alternate scenarios. Shit happened. Then it got better. It is what it is. 

Peter sighed, “Stephen had to wipe all your memories—it got complicated, okay.” 

The kid seemed stressed, and Tony wanted to reach out, wanted to be there, but all he could do was offer him a soft smile. Reassurance. 

“I did not consent to that one bit,” Happy responded, arms crossed. 

“It was the best way—the only way,” Peter defended it. 

A rally, back and forth. 

Happy shot him a glare. “I should have been there.” 

Peter hit back with, “You were grieving.” 

Volley.

Right, because Happy had lost his partner. Had lost May. Because May was gone. Tony swallowed. May was gone and he couldn’t do anything about that. Had never been able to say goodbye. Would never be able to say goodbye.

Tony wondered, vaguely, then, if that was how most people felt about him when he’d gone. Whether they’d mourned the lack of a goodbye. Most of the Avengers, the people on that battlefield, hardly knew him. Some of them he’d been close with, some less so. But he’d really only gotten the blessing — the blessing to die — from Pepper, not any of the others. He’d had no time to say his goodbyes.

May was better than him, though. Kinder. Nicer. She’d actually deserved the goodbyes, and hadn’t received them anyways. The world worked like that — unfairly. 

“You should have been able to grieve, as well,” Happy shook his head, “I should have been there.” 

Happy was beating himself up about it, and Peter was determined to stop it. Tony could tell as the kid shook his own head and said, “Happy—don’t. It’s not…it’s not worth it.” 

“And then you never said anything, after,” Happy continued, “At the grave, even. Just…pretended alongside me. You could have said—you should have said.”

Huh?

Tony was definitely missing something. Unless…Peter went to visit May’s grave, and Happy had been there, somehow. God, the kid had probably never been invited to the funeral they’d held for May. That was—in a word—shit. 

“You would have thought I was crazy.” Peter shot back, “I thought—well.” 

He paused, like he didn’t want to explain it, what he’d told Tony, and MJ, and Ned. As if he knew how it sounded. That he wanted to protect them, that he didn’t need the help. He wanted it, god, of course he’d wanted it, but their lives came first. 

“He didn’t want to put anyone else in danger,” Tony interjected, to explain it. To save Peter the agony.  

Happy’s heart seemed to break in any case. “That’s—Peter.” A brief pause, and then, “You didn’t need to do it alone.” 

“I know.” Peter was ashamed, looked down, “Trust me, I’ve already had this talk.” 

Happy glanced at Tony, and seeing the profound agony on Happy’s face shocked him slightly, because, huh. Tony hadn’t known Happy cared so much about the kid. It was nice knowing that he did. When he’d assigned Happy to the job of looking after Peter after Leipzig, he hadn’t thought it would take. Happy always came to him complaining about the kid’s constant stream of texts. Every time they interacted, it left Happy with an aura of annoyance. 

Perhaps it had been falling in love with his aunt that had enabled Happy to see the kid properly. Or maybe it had just been being exposed to him properly, for as long as he had been. The time they spent after Tony was gone. It could have been anything. 

“Yeah,” Tony said, “Don’t worry, Hap, we’ve talked about it.” 

Another silence. Peter looking down in his lap, Happy glancing everywhere, eyes never lingering on one place, but flickering back to Peter, and then to Tony. They sat, not talking. 

Until—

“Tony?” Pepper called from the kitchen, “We need you in here.” 

Tony stared between Happy and Peter for a short moment, and let out a small cough before patting his jeans and getting up. He padded out of the room tentatively, unsure of his decision to leave the pair of them alone. 

Morgan seemed content, sat with the brown bag of fries and burger and grease. She faced away from him, and Pepper was grinning at her, stealing a fry and placing it in her own mouth. Morgan gave her a look of betrayal, and a frown that didn’t last long before she continued to attack her food.

“What do you need me for?” Tony asked, predicting a clean-up situation. Wiping Morgan’s face, or something. Maybe a classic temper tantrum. Reading a story, but that was unlikely given the time of day. Something like he used to do. 

Pepper rolled her eyes at him. “We don't actually need you. Just thought it would be a good idea to let them have a talk without you.” 

“She’s tricking you,” Morgan informed him, fry still in her mouth. He forgot how smart she was. 

“Well, I feel betrayed!” Tony whispered back to Morgan, shaking his head at Pepper. 

He sat with his daughter and his wife for a while, content to let Happy and Peter talk. Pepper was right. She always was, so it wasn’t much of a surprise. But letting Happy and Peter converse between themselves was a better idea than Tony sat awkwardly there. They had their own dynamic. And things to talk about. May, probably. 

Morgan demolished the burger without giving him so much as a bite, and Tony’s stomach grumbled. He stole a fry of his own and also grabbed some chocolate from the cupboard they keep the junk food in. Probably not the best idea to be having chocolate in the morning, but Tony couldn’t really bring himself to care about his diet when he came back to life a couple days ago. 

“Can I go play now?” Morgan asked him after washing her hands. Tony had to help her out because of the amount of ketchup — seriously, how was it even possible to get that much? — on her hands. 

Tony glanced at Pepper, a silent conversation. 

They need time. It’s a serious conversation. 

If they keep going for much longer, they’ll both get angry and sad.

We don’t want to cut them short. 

“They’ve had a while,” Tony decided, and picked Morgan up. She made a squealing noise and gripped onto him as he walked to the living room.They caught the trailing end of the conversation as he walked in with Morgan on his hip. 

“Of course you’re glad,” Happy said softly to the kid as Tony caught sight of them. Peter had relocated, onto the original couch, next to Happy. Peter’s next words were muffled. 

“—just really missed him,” Peter muttered to Happy, who was nodding back at him in understanding. Tony had a sneaking suspicion he knew who they were talking about. 

“I think this monster has something to say to her Uncle,” Tony announced his arrival. He wanted them to know he was there. He knew that he probably should have given them more time to talk, but shit, he’d committed to it. 

Peter looked different as he turned around to look as Tony carried Morgan over to Happy. Not happier, per se, but…relieved. As though the conversation had taken a lot of the weight off his shoulders. Tony felt a burst of love for Pepper, for always knowing exactly what to do and when to do it. He’d also emerged back out of his emotionless shell, which was another good sign. 

Tony placed Morgan down. 

“Thank you for my burger!” Morgan said to Happy, and Happy gave her a high five. Then she turned to Peter and tugged on his trouser leg. “Wanna play, Petey?” 

Tony shot a look at Peter, to check, to see if he was up for it. He had, after all, just been engaged in kind of a tough conversation.  

“Of course, Morg,” Peter smiled at her, the nickname slipping. 

They let Morgan terrorise Peter for about another hour, the three adults just watching them, unsure of what to say or do. Then Tony’s stomach started rumbling, so they made a spread of picky bits for lunch.  

In the afternoon, after the light lunch — of which Morgan rejected any, on account of the fact she’d consumed her burger about an hour before — they went outside. It was, after all, a lovely day. The sun was shining, not enough to need a complete covering of SPF, but pleasantly warm all the same. Pepper, Peter and Morgan were playing a game of catch. Morgan had asked whether they could bring DUMM-E out to join them too, but Tony had insisted that DUMM-E wasn’t very good at catching and they should play as a three. 

“So,” Happy said to Tony, watching Morgan throw the ball and Peter dive to catch it, “You’re alive.” 

They were far away enough from the others that they wouldn’t hear the conversation they were having.

“I’m alive,” Tony repeated, raising his eyebrows. He let out a sigh, staring up at the light covering of clouds. 

“How exactly is that?” His friend asked, eyes fixed on him.

Tony didn’t quite know where to start. “Do you remember the wizard?”

“Vaguely,” Happy commented, “Peter’s mentioned him a bit. So, magic, then?” 

Magic was a good way to summarise it, but Tony thought it was better to cover all bases. Ensure he knew the full story. Knew enough. 

“Well, he was on the ship to Titan with us.” Tony glanced to Peter. “Me, Pete, and the wizard. He saw several million different possibilities for the outcome of—everything, and chose the one we had, with the final battle, and the snap.” 

“He chose to kill you?” Happy asked, frowning. 

Tony quickly shook his head. “No—he chose this one because it was the only one in which we had a chance. I had to die.” 

“And yet…” Happy made a gesture towards Tony. 

“Yeah,” Tony breathed, “Stephen—the wizard—he felt bad about it. Me dying.” 

“I should hope so.” Happy muttered darkly. 

Tony felt the overwhelming need to defend Stephen, despite it all. “Hap—he’s a good guy. He made a promise to himself to bring me back — using magic — and here I am.”

Happy said nothing, and Tony let out a bitter chuckle. “God knows why. I don’t deserve it. A second chance.” 

His friend stared at him, then, and after a pause said, “You have a family, Tony. You deserve to be here to see it. To live it. Family life.”

Yeah, well. Maybe Happy was right. But Tony had never believed he’d actually get to live his life to the fullest. At the age of eighteen, there had been a tabloid article about him in which one reporter predicted he would be dead before the age of twenty-one. Tony had silently agreed, at the time. He’d been drowning in drugs, in people, in work. Anything to escape his own life. 

He’d lived past twenty one, somehow. Miraculously. 

“Still doesn’t feel real,” Tony admitted. They sat in silence for a moment, then Tony continued, switching subjects. “I’m sorry. About May.” 

Happy let out a deep breath, as though he’d known it was coming. “We weren’t even together —as a couple, I mean—  when she died. I—I loved her more than she loved me.” 

Tony knew exactly how that felt, loving someone more than they loved you back. The pain of it. Not even just romantic feelings, either. Tony had often felt that with the Avengers. He’d loved them all, even if he hadn’t been the best at showing it. He’d built them a Tower, kept fixing their weapons, showed them love in the only way he knew how. 

He’d loved the other Avengers much more than the Avengers loved him. 

“I’ll bet she loved you more than you think,” Tony told him, mostly to Happy, but a little bit to himself. 

Something twisted in Tony’s heart at the look on his friend’s face. The grief was palpable, the agony on his face evident. Happy & May. Tony would have liked to see it, to see them. The idea of it had initially shocked him, but it made a weird amount of sense, actually. 

And yet he’d never get to see it. 

“I think I always will. Love her, even though she’s gone,” Happy put a hand over his face. “God, Tony.” 

“If there’s anything I can do…” Tony replied quietly, because what could you say? He wanted, desperately, to help, but he didn’t even know how to start. 

“Yeah,” Happy nodded, his voice rough, “I appreciate that, thank you.” 

“Always,” Tony mumbled back, and then they had another brief pause in their conversation. 

It had been a long time, since he’d had a serious conversation with Happy. Happy had often been the person he could turn to and make snarky comments to, just be the annoying prick Tony had spent most of his life being. He joked around Happy, always had, but Tony could count the amount of serious conversations they’d had on one hand. Or successful ones, in any case. Tony had often deflected any attempt at a serious conversation in his younger years. 

That had been true until he’d gotten close with Peter, really. After Leipzig, and Rhodey’s accident, Tony had realised he needed to grow up. Happy had pulled him out of Siberia — half-dead — and the conversation they had had after that incident had sobered him up, made him straighten out his life.

He had a wave of gratitude for the man who had been there for him through such tough times, and had then be there for Peter, as well.  

“Thank you, for being there for him.” Tony nodded to Peter. “When I was gone. And before.”

“He really missed you,” Happy said, both of them watching the boy as he threw the ball to Pepper, “Cried to me about it. He was convinced that he was supposed to be like you, live up to your legacy. Terrified of failure.”

Oh, and if that wasn’t the most painful thing Tony had ever heard. 

“I wasn’t trying to pass on the torch,” Tony clarified, “I mean—he can do it without me, I know he can. He could become the new me, but that’s not what I wanted. I wanted him to be better, to not be me. To be him.”

“You might need to tell him that,” Happy instructed. 

Tony hadn’t thought about the idea of that — the legacy of Iron Man falling, being passed down to his protege. It must have looked like he was training Spiderman to become him, all those years, which was the last thing he wanted. Peter was so much better than him. Had always been better suited for the role of a hero, despite his youth. Stubborn, with an occasionally poor judgement in the early stages, and always with the intention of not needing any help, but then…wasn’t that what every hero was like? In the beginning?

They watched the ball be passed around a couple more times before Happy spoke again. “How can he be so…okay with it all?”

Tony knew he was talking about Peter, and the perfect facade he was putting on. Because Tony knew it was a facade, to some extent, at least. He was hurting, and that was okay. Given the amount of shit he’d gone through in the last several years, it was more than okay. It was to be expected.

But Peter was acting as though he was completely fine, and doing a damn good job of it too. Enough to fool Happy, at least.

“He’s not,” Tony responded. “He’s not okay, he’s hiding. But with time…”

With time they could make an impact. Restoring his support system. Recruiting MJ and Ned to help as well. Making sure he was safe, and helping him talk through it all.  

“Right.” Happy sighed and left a pause before saying, “I need a drink.”

Serious conversation over. Happy was giving him an out, and Tony wasn’t going to waste it. 

“Let’s go grab some drinks from inside,” Tony decided, and then called out to the others, “Hey, you guys want any drinks?” 

Turns out they did want drinks, so the ragtag team all collected inside and grabbed some water from the fridge. Morgan’s cup was 90% ice and 10% water — she insisted on having about half a tray of ice cubes in every cup. It gained her the nickname of ice queen, which she had refuted by telling him that he was silly and that Elsa was the ice queen, not her. 

Midway through this debate, there was a very familiar whirring noise outside, and everyone’s heads snapped up. It was much more ostentatious than Happy’s car pulling up on the ground, and as the suit made impact with the ground when War Machine landed, Tony’s heart rate spiked. 

Rhodey. 

Fuck.

“Shit, I didn’t—” Tony put down his glass of water, the casual smile dropping from his face. “I didn’t know—he didn’t say—I said to come when he could.” 

Rhodey was just outside the door, he was there, just there, tantalisingly close. 

“He would have thought it an emergency,” Pepper murmured, standing up. She put down her cup as well, “I rarely ask for him to come over.” 

She stepped close to the front door. The others were still lingering in the kitchen in shock. Morgan was confused, Peter was alarmed, Happy looked like he was about to collapse again. Tony thought he himself might have looked like he was on the verge of death. That's what he felt like, in any case. 

“I should—” Tony’s eyes darted around the room, trying to find a place for him to hide, but there wasn’t time. Rhodey had obviously stepped out of the suit and had ran up to the door, pulling it open without knocking. 

And then there he was, and it took Tony’s breath away, seeing his best friend standing there, not even clocking his presence as he focused on Pepper in front of him. Rhodey was on a mission, the way he always was, completely focused on identifying the problem at hand. 

Rhodey was there. Close enough that if Tony walked over to him, he could be there in several strides.

His best friend, right there in front of him.

 “Pepper, what is it you need?” Rhodey said as he rushed in, “I’m here, is it something to do with you?” 

Rhodey’s eyes searched her systematically, looked Pepper up and down, gently touched her shoulders. “Is it Morgan?” 

Tony stood there, static, watching as his closest friend in the world checked whether his wife and child were okay. Unsure. He was unable to move.  

Pepper didn’t say anything, equally frozen in place. They had not discussed a plan for Rhodey, any plan of action. They’d had no notice to know he was coming. 

Rhodey moved away from her and his hand moved to his holster, subtly holding his gun ready to pull it out. His eyes darted around the room, and he approached the kitchen, where Tony was stood front and centre. He was turning into the kitchen as he proposed another idea, “Or is it—”

Rhodey stopped dead. 

Tony watched the moment his best friend made eye contact with him, the focused gaze switching to the similar cacophony of emotions he’d experienced in the eyes of Pepper, Stephen, Peter and Happy. 

“Tony?” 

Chapter Text

“Tony?”  

Rhodey’s voice was hesitant, as though he couldn’t trust his eyes to be telling the truth. He’d stopped, hand still weakly holding onto his gun. Rhodey stood at the entrance to the kitchen, standing in place. 

“Hey, honeybear,” Tony greeted softly. “I decided I didn’t like being dead after all.” 

Tony immediately regretted his remark as Rhodey let out a sudden wracking sob and dropped the gun — which Peter contorted himself to catch and then placed on the counter skilfully. Happy rushed forward to grab Rhodey, and Tony stabilised him by holding onto his best friend’s arm. 

“Jesus Christ,” Rhodey panted as he placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“Mama Rhodes would be most disappointed in that language,” Tony often thought about Rhodey’s mom, who’d always been willing to have Tony over for Christmas whilst he was at university, cause he had nowhere else to go. She was however, fairly religious, and had always scolded her son when he blasphemed around her. 

“Jesus Christ, Tony.” Rhodey patted him on the shoulder again, then pulled him into a hug. Tony’s arm twinged with pain again as he was encased in Rhodey’s grip. His best friend’s hugs had always been tighter than the average hug. 

Pepper, who seemed to have recovered from her momentary panic of standing in position, had made her way into the kitchen and Rhodey locked eye contact with her, stepping back from the hug.

“Pepper—” Rhodey glanced at her, and she was smiling. He turned back to Tony, glancing at him. Tony had forgotten how piercing Rhodey's gaze could be, if he wanted it to be. “This can’t be real. It has to be a dream. I saw you die, I was there.” 

Tony didn’t really fancy going through the whole you’re-a-hallucination-this-isn’t-real malarkey again, so he reached over and pinched Rhodey in the arm. 

“Not a dream, honeybear,” Tony grinned, “I had to come back, the world wasn’t the same without Tony Stark gracing its presence.” 

He’d meant it as a joke, but Rhodey nodded. 

“Yeah,” Rhodey breathed, staring at him, taking it all in. “It really wasn’t.”

Tony detached himself from the grip his best friend had on him. 

“You’re probably wondering how this is…possible,” Tony said, waving his hands around as he went to the sink to pour Rhodey a glass of water and passed it to him. 

“I have an idea,” Rhodey commented, sipping the water. 

“Right,” Tony nodded, then continued without asking, “The wizard brought me back.” 

There was a slight movement on Rhodey’s face which told Tony that he had already guessed correctly. 

“The sunuvabitch actually did it,” Rhodey said, astounded. He shook his head in disbelief. “How long have you been back?” 

“A couple of days,” Tony admitted, feeling guilty that it had taken so long for them to contact Rhodey. 

“Days?” Rhodey shot him a glare, his face surprised and slightly irritated. “Then why did you only send that text last night?”

Tony looked at Peter briefly, who smiled at him. “We had a Peter shaped problem to fix, first.”

Rhodey turned to look at Peter, presumably pausing his other train of thoughts to focus on the teenager. “Speaking about that…I had this weird thing yesterday where it felt like I got hit in the head with memories of meeting you that I’d completely forgotten about.” 

“Everyone forgot about him,” Tony waved it off, “It was a whole thing, it’s mostly fixed now.” 

Mostly fixed because they still had to figure out what to do with Peter. 

“Great,” Rhodey grinned. “Everything is chill, then? No world-ending event, just us.” 

That was like perfectly opening for a joke Tony had been wanting to make for ages.

“Actually, no,” Tony replied, and internally smirked as Rhodey’s face fell. “Thanos is back. I thought I’d bring him with me from the undead, just to see if your genius idea about—what was it? Turning him into a baby—would work.” 

Rhodey let out a groan (which meant You little shit, I thought you were being serious), and then looked at him. “I still think we should have gone for the killing Baby Thanos idea, y’know. Maybe it wouldn’t have killed you, in the end.” 

Pepper chimed in then, “And as I’ve told you, Rhodey, several times, Stephen did see that reality.” 

Tony’s head snapped up to stare at his wife in amusement. “He did?”

What kind of fucking universe had that caused? 

Pepper glanced at him, and added, “We lost.”

“To a baby?” Happy queried, wide eyed.

“Don’t ask me to elaborate,” Pepper said with a truly pained voice. Tony sniggered just thinking about it, and that set off a wave of laughter around the room. Even Peter burst into quiet laughter. Tony had missed that, the sound of everyone’s laughter. There hadn’t been much of it during the Blip, really. 

And Rhodey was there, making up the final piece of Tony’s unconventional family. It brought a whole other level of euphoria, having Rhodey there with them. Happy had been there for most of the darkest parts of Tony’s life, but Rhodey? Rhodey had been there for all of them. 

Rhodey had been there when Tony’s parents had died in a car crash, when he’d collapsed and had transitioned into a catatonic state for about a week. He’d been there for the college days, the dark, dark days when weeks went by in an alcoholic kind of haze and a drug-induced stupor. Rhodey had pulled him out of Afghanistan, had spent months looking for him in the desert, had made sure that after that, Tony always did ride with him. 

The only thing Rhodey had missed had been the early teen years, the years where Tony flaunted his prowess for engineering with snarky comments to his dad and had been punished for it. When he’d started to understand what fame meant, that he was famous, that he could leave the house and attract journalists and paparazzi without even doing anything. 

Rhodey had saved Tony several times over. It was important to Tony that he stayed by his side, at least for a little while longer. 

He realised, in that moment, as they continued to laugh about the idea of killing a Baby Thanos, that he didn't want to let any of them leave. Tony didn’t want Peter returning to the city, to Midtown, or Queens, or wherever. To go back to living in that apartment by himself. He didn’t want Happy to have to grieve alone, and he didn’t want to see Rhodey fly back and return to his normal life, always working. 

He selfishly wanted them all to stay in the lake house, forever there, forever his. 

It wasn’t a plausible idea, just some fantasy that wouldn’t tie in with the real world. But the idea of it was tantalising. 

There were more questions, of course. Rhodey had more than any of the other three, logistical questions. Were there any side effects? Did he have a limited time? How had the wizard done it? Tony told the truth, all that he knew. No, there didn’t seem to be side effects. No, apparently his time wasn’t limited. He didn’t really know how Stephen had done it, and didn’t really want to know. The wizard had been naturally cagey about it, and that told Tony he was better off not asking. 

He told them about the pain in his arm, and about how weird it had been to wake up alive again. The only thing he kept hidden was his reluctance to sleep, because Pepper already knew, and he didn’t particularly want to expose his weakness to perform basic human functions, even to his closest friends. 

They settled, on the sofa, everyone with drinks in hand, comfortable. 

“What did you do, for Christmas?”

It was a trivial question, the one Morgan decided to ask when the room went quiet, a query meant for their guests. But Tony had to admit he was curious as to what the answers would be. Morgan watched the three guests with a curious gaze as they spoke in turn. 

“I—not much,” Peter admitted, “I went to a coffee shop, um, but that was about it.”

Rhodey let out a sigh, “I didn’t realise it was Christmas, so I was just working all day.” 

“I was just by myself, watching movies and things,” Happy explained to Morgan. 

Yeah, that was what Tony had expected, pretty much. He wasn’t surprised by those answers, although he’d had some hope that they would have gotten up to something fun. 

“That’s not very Christmassy!” Morgan sounded offended. All kids loved Christmas, but Morgan loved it more than breathing. “You should be with people on Christmas, to open presents and have a meal! Did you at least have a Christmas Day meal?” 

“No,” came the chorus of all three of their guests, and Morgan’s face turned downright appalled. She swivelled round to face Tony. 

Morgan raised her eyebrows at him, “And Daddy, you weren’t there for our meal either.” 

“I’m sorry, honey,” Tony apologised, not quite knowing whether she was fishing for an apology or if she was scheming some plan up. Tony strongly suspected that it was the latter. 

“S’okay, you’re here now.” Morgan shrugged, and then paused and looked at her mother. “I think we should have another meal, Mommy, cause these guys haven’t had one.” 

“We’ll have dinner with them tonight,” Pepper assured her. 

“But a Christmas meal, Mommy,” Morgan pressed. “None of them had one!” 

Pepper tried to placate her by saying they would have something similar that night, with Happy, Rhodey and Peter there with them, but Tony interjected. 

“No, you know what,” Tony said, looking around. “I think a Christmas meal is just about what we need right now. What do you guys think?” 

There was a collective nod, and so from then on, they were set on a mission. 

Happy, Morgan and Pepper were the ones delegated to do the shopping. Obviously Tony was confined to staying inside the lake house, and he needed to talk to both Rhodey and Peter. After a bit of silent communication with his wife, she’d been able to wrangle Happy into the car with the idea of getting some ice cream along the way.

Despite the promise of ice cream also applying to her, Morgan seemed reluctant to get into the car and leave. Morgan had become attached to Peter since they’d gotten up from the sofa, and was clinging to him instead of leaving to go to the car.  

Tony’s voice caught in his throat as he saw Peter holding Morgan in his arms just like Tony had always held her, the young girl balanced on his hip gently.  

“Morgan,” He said sternly, a warning. Behave.  

“I want my brother to come.” Morgan said, clinging onto him. She was being stubborn. He supposed he should expect it — with all of the new arrivals and high emotions throughout the day, he wasn’t surprised that she’d gone stroppy. It was a normal reaction from kids. 

Besides, it also made sense that she wanted to stay with Peter. This was the first time they were going to be properly apart ever since Peter had joined them at the lake house, and Morgan was probably still thinking about the made-up ‘mission’ Peter had been supposedly sent on and how he hadn’t returned for years. It was Tony’s fault, really, for making her think her brother was going to disappear again. 

“I could go with them,” Peter suggested, always up for any solution, no matter what it meant for him. But this was a classic parenting moment, and Tony really did need to talk to Peter. Which meant he needed to get Morgan to go with Pepper, somehow. 

“Morgan, I need to speak to your brother, okay?” Tony told her, and lifted her out of Peter’s arms. He shifted her around until she was sat comfortably on him, and then walked toward the car. “You want to help get the Christmas food, right?”

She nodded silently. 

“And,” Tony whispered into her ear. “If you go with Mommy, you get to choose what juice pops she buys this time.” 

Morgan’s face lit up and she writhed to get out of his arms. He put her down quickly and let her run over to the car with a smile on his face. Parenting 101 — Bribery. Worked every time. 

So then Tony was left with Peter and Rhodey in the house. He left Rhodey on the couch, watching some rerun of a TV show he knew his best friend loved, and wandered over to Peter, who had waved off the shopping squad as they’d left in Pepper’s car. The teenager was stood leaning on the porch as though he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. 

“Hey, Pete, do you mind if we have a word?” Tony asked gently, not wanting to spook him too much. It failed, because Peter stiffened slightly in alarm. 

“Nothing, uh—scary. Just a chat,” Tony promised, realising the way he phrased it made it sound like a Conversation with a Capital C. Something important, and intimidating. He hadn’t meant for it to come out that way, but then again, he was rather sleep-deprived. 

“It’s about where you’re staying, and…stuff.” Tony continued, wanting to keep it vague. “I just wanted to know what would you like to happen? Where you’re most comfortable? You don’t have to answer now, of course, just food for thought.” 

He was rambling, and he knew it. But Peter was looking at him with a confused expression and he thought that if he kept adding words it would make it better somehow. 

“I mean—your friends are in New York. And Stephen. And your apartment,” Tony listed. “So obviously you’ll want to be there, with them.” 

Because Peter had a life in New York City. His girlfriend was there, his best friend. It was his home, and it wasn’t fair to rip him away from it. Tony was ready to give his counter argument, his argument for Peter to stay — here can be your home too, if you want it to be — but Peter opened his mouth to speak, so Tony shut up. 

“Right,” Peter said slowly, eyes darting to the floor. “It’s okay, I—I get it. You have a kid now, this is just—a temporary arrangement. I’ll go back to the apartment…um…as soon as possible? When the others leave? Is that okay?”

“Pete—kid, no.” Tony shook his head. “No—no, I mean, the opposite of that, rather. I was going to offer for you to stay with us. Here. Me, Pep, Morgan.” 

There was a pause in which Peter said nothing, so Tony ploughed on, heart racing. 

“It doesn’t have to be permanent,” Tony mumbled, quietly, softly. “You can stay here as long as you like, or not at all, if you don’t want to. It’s up to you.” 

Peter stared at him, still wordless. 

Quickly, he continued, before Peter could say anything, to ensure he’d gotten the message across correctly. “You’re always welcome here, okay. Always. Whether that’s for…moving in or just fleeting visits.” 

Peter seemed to be broken, but after some time he finally spoke up, to say with an incredulous tone and wide eyes, “You’d want me…to move in?”

Tony immediately responded, “Of course. You’re part of my family, Pete, as far as I’m concerned. My kid. Morgan’s brother.”

“Yeah,” Peter whispered, as though it was a revelation to him, as though he had no idea that Tony thought of him as his son. “Family.”

“And hey, don’t make a decision now. I haven’t talked to Pepper extensively about this, but during the Blip, we talked about the idea of moving back into NYC anyways,” Tony told Peter. “When Morgan had grown up a bit. Schools are better there, and it’s more convenient for the company when Pepper’s there.” 

“Moving back to the city?” Peter queried. 

“Yeah, to the Tower, or an apartment, who knows,” Tony waved it off, not really sure of the specifics. “So, when this is all…settled, when everyone knows about me being back, we might move back to the city. I mean, you’ve got college, and bigger, brighter things than thinking about where we’re going to live. But just to let you know.” 

“Right,” Peter nodded. “Cool, that’s…really cool, actually.” 

“And kid, with everything that happened—the battles, losing me and May, the whole shenanigan with Beck, the identity reveal, losing everyone…” Tony winced as he listed everything Peter had been through in such a short space of time. “No-one will judge if you need some time off. From being a hero and from being Peter Parker, too. You can go to college a year late, spend some time here. Do nothing for a bit.” 

He paused, mulling over an idea, hopefully also letting the things he’d said to Peter sink in. 

It was a little known fact, that Tony Stark spoke French. He didn’t mention it to many people. They knew about the Italian, everyone who knew him knew that his mom was Italian, that there was Italian blood in his veins. That he spoke the language like it was his home. Pepper knew it from the whispered words late at night. Morgan knew it from the lullabies he crooned to her. 

The French was something he kept to himself. It wasn’t as homely as Italian, it didn’t feel like childhood and growing up and everything his favourite language connoted when it fell off his tongue with a fluency unlike anything else. But saying that French wasn’t his childhood was not to say that it wasn’t beautiful.

Italian nicknames were off limits, with Peter. They reminded him too much of May. That much was clear to Tony after he used one. 

But there was nothing stopping Tony from using French ones instead. 

“It’s entirely up to you, mon fils.” 

“Is that…” Peter’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion, trying to place the words but unsure of it. He seemed to know it wasn’t Italian, but the kid had never learnt French. He’d taken Spanish at school, as most American kids did. 

“French,” Tony explained. 

“I didn’t know you speak French,” Peter mumbled, and then asked, “What does it mean?”

Tony coughed, not having expected the kid to ask for a translation. But of course he wanted a translation, he was a genius teenager, always searching for knowledge he hadn’t yet attained. He’d called the kid ‘bambino’ in Italian, which was a general nickname for kids widely used by parents. The French…well, it was slightly more specific.

He felt a wave of shame over the fact that he’d never asked permission to use those kind of nicknames. Peter had needed a mentor, someone to guide him in the superhero world, and Tony had forced himself into the role of substitute parent. Worse still, he’d decided to call Peter his kid, which was widely recognised as kind of a dick move considering the fact he’d never really asked. 

“I probably should have—should have asked,” Tony glanced at him, “Are you alright with it—being called my kid? Morgan’s brother. I don’t want you to feel like it’s forced on you, Pete. Ever.” 

“No—I like it, actually,” Peter confirmed with a soft smile. “It makes me feel like I belong.” 

Thank fuck for that. 

“Good,” Tony breathed, glad he hadn’t overstepped. It was a delicate balance, trying to be there for Peter but not trying to be overbearing. 

“So, the French?” Peter pressed, curious. 

“Mon fils means my son,” Tony explained, “If you don’t like it, then I’ll drop it right now. Just an idea.” 

“Oh,” Peter uttered out in a quiet sound, and then nodded. “Yeah, I like it. And about—um, about the whole living situation, I don’t really know what I’m going to do yet.” 

Tony nodded, letting Peter lead the conversation. He’d dictated so much of the previous one that he felt it was necessary to let Peter process his thoughts. 

“I need to see MJ, and Ned,” Peter continued, “And Stephen, say thank you, properly.” 

“We have time,” Tony murmured, “Invite them, if you want.” 

But not tonight, Tony thought, selfishly, and didn’t voice the thought that lingered. Not tonight. Not when I have all of the people I love most in this world in a house with me. Please. Just give me one night. 

Don’t go tonight, Pete. 

He’d be okay, he thought. If Peter decided to go back to NYC. To live in Midtown, or Queens, or wherever the hell he wanted to live. It wouldn’t be in that shithole of an apartment, thought, that’s where Tony absolutely drew the line. He would buy a new apartment for the kid and then Tony would be able to cope with it. Maybe they’d move back to Manhattan, to Stark Tower. Maybe they’d stay right where they were, in the lake house, and be supportive from a distance. It didn’t matter, though, that was the crux of it, really. Tony would always be there for Peter, and Peter would be okay in time. 

“Not now,” Peter shook his head, “I’ve spoken to MJ and Ned on the phone, they don’t need me, they know I needed to go. And this is—special, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Tony breathed, thankful the kid was able to read his mind without him having to say anything. “It is special.” 

It felt right. Like the way things were supposed to be, his ideal world. Tony had everything he needed. 

When the shopping squad returned with their array of goods, things descended into chaos. Pepper, Rhodey and Peter (who had insisted on helping) were in charge of cooking. Tony had been banned from the lake house’s kitchen (despite the fact that he was actually a pretty decent cook) due to an incident when Morgan was two which had resulted in them having to redecorate the entire kitchen. He took offence to that, a bit, but it enabled him to instead focus on spending time with his daughter. 

Tony, Happy, Morgan and DUMM-E played a game of Cluedo, in which Tony was able to turn his attention to DUMM-E for the first time since he’d been re-alived. The robot was extremely content that Tony was back, and kept helping Tony by moving his counter, despite the fact that in Cluedo, it didn’t help. Morgan had apparently explained the rules to DUMM-E previously, and the last time they’d played together, DUMM-E had in fact won. 

Tony was slightly confused and alarmed at that declaration, but the bot looked so proud of himself that he decided not to comment on it, and shot a glare at Happy when Happy looked like he was going to say something. It was best to let DUMM-E be happy. After all, he did have a tendency to douse you with a fire extinguisher, and Tony wanted to avoid that happening. 

Morgan won the game of Cluedo. Tony was about 90% sure that she’d looked at his cards when he’d excused himself to go and check on the kitchen gang — he’d promptly been shooed out with a dishcloth by Rhodey, who swore in Spanish when he saw Tony entering the room. 

Tony tried not to take offence to that either. 

They played another game of Cluedo, which DUMM-E won (Tony suspected with the help of both Morgan and Happy, but he couldn’t prove it), and after that, the food was ready.

And it was glorious. Pepper and Peter had created a truly magnificent spread of turkey and mashed potatoes alongside all of the typical things that came with a Christmas meal. Rhodey had made one of Mama Rhodes’ famous Christmas dishes to go alongside it, and Tony was practically salivating at the mouth as Rhodey put the bowl on the table, remembering his university days where he used to practically live at the Rhodes’ house for Christmas.

Dinner could be summed up with a singular word: tranquility. It wasn’t, of course, docile, calm, or anything of the sort. Tony and Rhodey engaged in (relatively) heated discussion about various topics. They all listened to the events of Morgan’s day, to every single minute detail, despite most of them having been there for all of the events she described. Peter spoke about Ned, about MJ. Pepper discussed the intricacies of a deal she wanted to make at SI. Piece by piece, sentence by sentence, they brought each other up to speed on what had happened in their lives. 

It was family. 

That was what it was. It was everyone that Tony considered family, sat around one table. He had his wife, who was intelligent and beautiful and deserved better than him, who had put up with his antics for too long. His daughter, buzzing with energy and fire and spirit and so damn intelligent for her age. His son, his kind teenager who just so happened to also be a superhero. And his two closest friends, one he’d known since he was young and stupid and doing strange things like drinking alcohol out of socks — for whatever reason — and the other a constant by his side, always looking out for him. 

Tony didn’t miss his past, didn’t miss the days of endless drinking. It had been terrible, for the lack of a better adjective. Deplorable. Abysmal. Unspeakable. He saw photos of himself from that time and wondered who he was — but of course, he knew who it was. There was still an element of that — of Tony Fucking Stark — inside him, deep down. It emerged whenever he built a new suit, when he pulled on his sunglasses, when Peter asked him for a selfie and he naturally pulled up a peace sign. The ostentatious, brash personality still remained. It was just that the more subdued, the more true part of him had decided to become more dominant as he aged. It was what had led him to genuinely consider whether figuring out how to time travel was worth it instead of just launching into the idea without consideration. The Tony Stark from 2012 would have done it in a heartbeat, just to prove that he could. He would carry a nuclear weapon into a wormhole and not think about the consequences. 

Tony Stark was no longer that person.  

He didn’t miss his past, because he was so head-over-heels in love with his present, and his future. With his little family, the little family that Anthony Not-Stark had wanted all those years back, the fantasy. Tony would be happy if every single evening in his future was the same as that evening. Watching people raise their glasses, cheers to them all being sat around the table. A quiet dinner, a quiet time. A good time. 

After they sat down to have food, the hours seemed to blur into one. They cracked open a bottle of red wine at some point— Tony didn’t know when, nor did he care. It was something fancy that Pepper had been gifted several years ago, that had collected dust in the pantry where they kept wine. Pepper liked red wine. Tony didn’t care for it much, preferring a deep and mellow whiskey, but to each their own, he supposed. 

It might have been during the game of Monopoly that the adults started drinking. Tony abstained, determined to protect his liver and be in the moment. He’d forgotten one too many nights, and that one was too perfect to forget.

“Stay,” Tony said, his stomach full and face warm, as Rhodey glanced down at his watch and grimaced at the idea of flying in the suit home in order to be ready for his work the next day. Rhodey had had several glasses of red wine, and to be honest, Tony didn’t really want him crashing War Machine in some field either. Happy was flushed in the face — he’d joined Pepper in drinking the red wine. “Stay the night. You too, Happy.” 

So they did, both of them. 

And hey, maybe it wouldn’t last forever. Maybe it was meant to just be their little moment, a little pocket of time where everyone was in one place and was content to be there. Maybe Peter would go back to the city, and Rhodey back to work, and Happy back to grief the very next morning. But it didn’t matter, because they would be there for each other when shit went down, and that was what mattered. 

There were still things to be done, people to be told, press conferences to be had, but there was half a lifetime in place for them to happen. Then and there, laying in bed next to Pepper, safe in the knowledge that both of his children were in their bedrooms sleeping, and his two closest friends in guest rooms, Tony had his whole world in his hands. They were safe and sound, protected, and he felt peace. He was finally able to rest, he thought, and smiled as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.