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Drip. Plop.
Drip. Plop.
Drip. Plop.
The steady dripping and plopping of water droplets from the leaky kitchen faucet lulled Peter into a state of catatonia. His eyes were unfocused as he stared into the middle of nowhere in his dingy, run-down apartment. He could hear water moving in the pipes as a toilet flushed elsewhere in the building and he could feel the air pressure change as the building’s front door opened and closed.
Drip. Plop.
Peter inhaled suddenly, shaking himself from his stupor and blinked owlishly, bringing his vision back into focus. He looked down at the book in front of him. The GED study guide had color-coded sticky notes poking out of it at all angles. Blue for science. Pink for history, and so on. He turned to one of the pink stickies and tried to read about the Global Repatriation Council that was created by the United Nations during the Blip years.
Drip. Plop.
He tapped a highlighter against the page as he reread the same sentence four times.
Dr-
THWACK!
Peter sheepishly closed the book, giving up studying as a lost cause, and padded over to the kitchen sink. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the web blocking his faucet. “Shouldn’t’ve done that,” he muttered to himself. It was a waste of web fluid. Reaching under the sink, he shut the water valve off, grabbed a screwdriver, and began disassembling the handles.
He was in the middle of examining a worn-out rubber washer, the likely culprit to the mind-numbing dripping and increased water bill, when all the hairs on his body suddenly shot to attention.
Peter whirled around, screwdriver in one hand, held like a sword, and his other wrist extended with his web-shooter ready. There was a small pinprick of light hovering in his apartment, halfway between the kitchen and his bed. The light grew bigger and brighter as the air in his apartment began to swirl around him and toward the anomaly.
“What the…” he murmured, confused but all his senses on high alert. His disheveled hair was blowing in the mysterious wind and the light kept getting brighter and brighter. He squinted and began to make out a tiny dark spot in the center that was growing rapidly. Peter planted his feet and crouched slightly, ready to run, jump, fight, or swing in any direction. Waiting to see what the hell was going on.
As the dark shape grew bigger, it resolved into a tiny human form.
“Ant-Man?” Peter squeaked, cautiously. He shuffled a step forward curiously in his socks, knees still bent and arms in a fighting stance. As the form grew bigger, Peter could see he wasn’t wearing Scott’s signature red suit. Nor was it yellow, like Miss Van Dyne’s Wasp suit. The tiny but ever-growing man was wearing a white and gray suit with little red accents. As it grew bigger, he saw the Avengers-A on the chest plate.
A feeling of relief swept over him. An Avenger. A friend.
And then reality crashed. Nobody knows Peter Parker is Spiderman. The Avengers have no reason to come to his crappy little apartment. Quite possibly, this Avenger is not coming here as a friend. He tensed up again and shuffled back a step.
On the other hand, Mr. Stark had figured out his identity years ago and come to visit him. Maybe someone else has done the same?
Friend or foe?
It felt like ages but was merely a second before the tiny dark spot in the light was a full-grown man standing in Peter’s apartment. For a moment they just stared at each other. The intruder’s face obscured by a mask, and Peter still half-crouched pointing a screwdriver and a web shooter at him. The intruder slowly raised a hand, reaching toward him, and Peter instinctively shot a web, the force of it slamming the man’s hand to the wall behind him and sticking it in place.
A muffled squawk came from behind the mask followed by a low chuckle.
“Who are you?” Peter asked. “What do you want?”
The man raised his other hand in surrender, but Peter didn’t back down. Not yet.
“Why are you here?”
The man’s mask began to trickle away from his face, the nanotech receding. The screwdriver clattered to the floor as Peter gasped in shock. This was impossible. He was dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or maybe he was in a coma or dead. Because this could not be real. This could not be happening right now.
The man smiled slowly, sadly, one hand still webbed to the wall, the other raised.
“Hey, kid,” Tony Stark said.
Peter stared in disbelief at the man standing before him. “I…you…Mister St-…how?” he stuttered to a stop. Then a crazy thought came to him and he stood ramrod straight, his eyes wide and asked, “Are you a ghost?!”
Mister Stark took it in stride. “Nope,” he said, casually confident as always.
“Are you a zombie?”
“Don’t think so.”
Peter narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean you don’t think so? How can you not know for sure that you’re not a zombie?”
Mister Stark smirked, eyes twinkling. “Well, I don’t have a hankering for brains, so I think I’m in the clear.”
Peter nodded thoughtfully then furrowed his brows. “Am I dead?” he asked.
The humor melted from Mr. Stark’s face and he leveled Peter with an intense stare as he said, “No. No, kid. You’re not dead.” His voice broke on the final word and tears leaked from his eyes.
Holy shit. Tony Stark is alive and in my apartment and crying! Peter floundered, flustered and entirely unsure what to do. “Mister Stark!” he squeaked, embarrassingly. “Oh my god, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Everything’s going to be okay! What do you need? Crap, your hand. Hang on, let me just get…” he trailed off as he fumbled for the web dissolvent.
Curiously, Mr. Stark didn’t say anything. He just watched Peter fluster about as he dissolved the web trapping his hand, tears quietly streaming down his cheeks. Once his hand was freed, Peter fiddled awkwardly with the bottle of dissolvent, unsure what to say or do, and still entirely stunned to see Tony Stark alive and well.
Before he could come up with something to say, Mr. Stark surprised him by pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re alive,” the other man breathed in disbelief. “Sweet, precious Pete. You’re alive.”
Peter squeezed Mr. Stark gently as the man held him tight, sobbing quietly into his neck. “Well, yeah, I’m alive,” Peter rambled, confused. “But so are you. Mr. Stark, you’re alive! How’s that even possible? I saw you! There was a funeral and everything. Oh my god, does Miss Potts know you’re back? And Morgan? And how do you even know who I am? Nobody knows who I am. Not since that spell I messed up. Unless you’re from another universe like the other Peters. Oh man, that’s it, isn’t it?! You traveled the multiverse! Holy cow! How’d you do it? You were small like Ant-Man. Was it through the quantum realm? Oh my god, you can travel the multiverse through the quantum realm?!?!” Peter began vibrating with excitement, his body still pinned in place by the hug Mr. Stark was still giving him. While he certainly had the strength to break it, he didn’t have the will and he gripped Mr. Stark tighter at the reminder that he was back. Even if he was a different Tony Stark, it still was amazing and wonderful to see him.
Mr. Stark’s hand came up to cup his skull and thread fingers through his hair. “I’ve missed you, Peter Parker,” he confessed quietly into Peter’s neck. “It hurts. It hurts so much.”
Peter immediately gentled his hold on the man. He didn’t think he was talking about the hug hurting, but he eased up just to be safe and Mr. Stark took that as his cue to finally step back. He still didn’t fully release Peter as he moved his hands to his shoulders and looked him over.
“You look older,” he muttered, half to himself. “More grown up.”
Peter looked away as a wave of grief washed over him. “I had to grow up. When Aunt May….I had to. And then the spell….” He sniffed and swallowed the massive lump in his throat.
Mr. Stark raised a hand and cupped his cheek, stroking it tenderly with his thumb. “You’ve done so good,” he choked on the last word and closed his eyes, clearly gathering himself. “God, this is harder than I thought it’d be.”
Peter reached up to cover the hand still on his shoulder with his own.
Mr. Stark leaned forward, touching his forehead to Peter’s. “I’m proud of you, Peter. I’m so proud of you.”
And that’s when Peter’s body betrayed him as he suddenly let out a sob he had no idea he’d been holding back. He gasped for air and Mr. Stark tugged him over to his bed, sitting them both down on the edge of it, and pulling him back into his arms. Peter wept into his chest as Mr. Stark gently rocked them side to side, massaging his scalp, and murmuring words of encouragement to him.
“You’re right, of course, Underoos,” Mr. Stark said once Peter quieted in his arms. “I did come from another universe through the quantum realm. I was able to peek in on your world before coming. I saw what happened with Osborne and May. And I saw what you and the other Peters did.” He grabbed Peter by the shoulders and pulled him up to look into his face, which he gently cupped between his callused hands. “Kid. You were amazing. You have a heart of gold. This world doesn’t deserve you.”
“And yours does?” Peter quipped wetly, unsure how else to respond.
“God, no. None of them do.”
How do you respond to that? Peter was spared as Mr. Stark continued. “Our worlds are identical up until a single point during the final Battle of Earth. From what I’ve been able to tell, your Tony got the stones and did the snap, am I right?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah. There’s memorials for you…him…you? All over the world. You’re the ultimate hero, Mr. Stark.”
He quirked a smile at Peter and assumed a snobby air. “Of course I am. Can’t say I’m against having shrines to myself around the world.” Peter snorted.
His eyes softened as he looked at Peter then. “But in my world, it was you, kid.” Peter furrowed his brows. “You got ahold of the gauntlet at some point in the mess of battle and decided to take matters into your own hand, as it were.”
“I thought about it,” Peter confessed. “There was a moment when I had it, and I thought about it. I almost did it. But then Captain Marvel was there asking for it and I figured she’d know better than I what to do. So I gave it to her.” He fidgeted with the bottle of dissolvent he was still holding. “Your Peter was better th-”
“No,” Mr. Stark interrupted firmly. “He was not better than you. Neither was he worse. He was you and you are him. The only difference between the two of you was circumstance. Carol Danvers didn’t get to him as fast as yours did. That’s it. That’s literally the only difference. The Peter I knew had a few seconds longer to commit to that decision.” He eyed Peter sternly as he said, “You are just as much a hero as he is. You are just as good as he is.”
Peter looked away, uncertain. “Besides,” Mr. Stark continued, “you proved it here when you not only defeated, but rehabilitated villains from other universes and gave them each a second chance at life. I mean you’re basically Jesus now.”
“Mr. Stark!” Peter protested. “That’s…that’s…no! I’m not! You can’t say that! That’s sacrilegious!”
“Meh. Sue me. I stand by it,” he shrugged, unconcerned.
“Besides, I’m not the one who returned from the dead,” Peter quipped, waggling his eyebrows at Mr. Stark who snorted.
He smiled fondly at Peter then flicked his eyes around the apartment. “So what’s this? This is where you live now? Why here?” he fluttered his hands about, gesturing to the dingy apartment.
Peter shrugged, embarrassed. “Nowhere else to go, really,” he mumbled.
“Why don’t you live upstate at the compound?”
Peter shrugged again. “Don’t think I can. I’m not a real Avenger.”
“Bullshit.”
Peter blinked, startled. “What?”
Mr. Stark looked him in the eye and said, “Pete, of course you’re a real Avenger. You’re the best of us.”
“I mean, maybe your Peter was. I’m just-”
“No. You are…you are…the best of us. You don’t have to die to be that.”
“I just –”
“Nope. Listen to the adult here. You’re the best. Own it.”
Peter smiled in humble defeat. “Well, you say that. But none of the others even know who I am.”
Mr. Stark flicked his fingers dismissively. “They don’t know Peter Parker. They do know Spiderman. They’ll welcome you. Guaranteed.”
Peter hesitated, a nervous hope simmering inside him. “Do you…do you think they remember that I was…that Spiderman was there?”
Mr. Stark nodded. “Yeah, kid. I do. They just don’t remember the face under the mask. That’s all.”
Peter bit his lip and looked away. Mr. Stark clapped a hand to his shoulder. “What’s bugging you about this?” he asked.
“I…it’s nothing, Mr. Stark. Sor-”
“No,” he interrupted. “It’s not nothing. There’s a bee in your bonnet. Let’s get it out. Why don’t you want to go to the compound? Surely it’d be better than this?”
Peter shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “No, I do want to go, Mr. Stark. Really, it’s not a big deal…” the other man gave him a stern look and Peter’s eyes widened as he rambled on. “I do want to go. It’s just…don’t you think someone would have said something if they really wanted me there? I mean, maybe not everyone will figure it out like you did, and thank God for that. I mean, that was the whole problem and why Dr. Strange did the spell in the first place, because everyone knew. But it’s not like Spiderman is hard to find. If they really wanted me there, wouldn’t someone have tracked Spiderman down, at least? But they haven’t and I don’t want to be that weirdo who shows up that nobody wants around and be in the way or be a burden or –”
“Or maybe,” Mr. Stark spoke loudly over him, “they’re respecting your privacy and waiting for you to come to them.”
“…I…what?”
“Jeez, kid. Chill out. How do you function with all that anxiety?”
Peter gaped at him. “Uuhhh…”
“Rhetorical question. For now. We’ll come back to it. The Avengers remember Spiderman fighting alongside them. They don’t know who he is. They know everyone else, so naturally they are going to assume you are a very private person and they are respecting that. Thus they keep their distance.”
“But I don’t want them to keep their distance. I mean I did, for a while, but not anymore. I’m…I just…it’s so lonely now, Mr. Stark.”
Mr. Stark ruffled his hair then gently pushed him away. “Suit up.”
“Suit up? Why? Where are we going?”
Mr. Stark stood up and looked at him sternly. “Suit. Up.”
“Oka-ay...” Peter said, cautiously. He grabbed his suit and slipped into the bathroom. When he came out, holding the mask in his hand, Mr. Stark furrowed his brows and circled him.
“You’ve downgraded,” he said, frowning.
“Well, yeah,” Peter said, turning slowly, following his movement.
“I gave you a top-of-the-line suit...”
“Yeah, but-”
“...personally customized for you.”
“I know, but-”
“Two suits.”
“Yes, and they were great! But-”
“And you’re wearing...regular spandex?” He shook his head in disgust. “I’m offended. I. Am. Offended.”
“Mr. Stark-”
“Why the hell are you wearing normal boring everyday spandex, Pete?”
“Because when the spell happened and everyone forgot about me so did Karen and F.R.I.D.A.Y. because I don’t exist anymore so the suits wouldn’t work right because I couldn’t communicate with them and it was scary and not safe so I had to make a new suit but at least it’s better than the first one, right?” Peter cringed internally at the single-breath word-vomit he had just spewed at Mr. Stark but the man wasn’t listening!
Mr. Stark blinked and frowned. “A wedding dress would be better than your first suit.”
Peter sighed in exasperation.
The other man furrowed his brows then held out his hand. “Give me E.D.I.T.H. We’ll fix this.”
Peter crouched and began carefully pulling up a floorboard. “She’s offline, Mr. Stark.”
“Not for long.”
Peter pulled the glasses case out from under the floor and handed it over. Mr. Stark pulled out the glasses and put them on, which brought a smile to Peter’s face to see them where they belonged. He leaned against the wall, arms and ankles crossed, watching his mentor talk to E.D.I.T.H., delivering codes and convincing the AI that he was, indeed, Tony Stark, just from another universe. A few minutes later Peter could hear the quiet whine of a high-powered stealth engine approaching.
“Um, Mr. Stark?”
“Hmm?” he hummed distractedly, still scrutinizing something on the glasses screen.
“Did you call a plane?”
“Ye- You can hear it?” He turned and looked fully at Peter, incredulously.
“Yeah, it’s almost here.”
“Jeez, kid. I knew you had super senses but wow.” Peter shrugged. “Anyway, that’ll make this easier.”
“Make what easier?” But Mr. Stark didn’t answer. Instead he pressed a button on his belt and shrunk down until he was an inch tall. Peter grinned as he watched a tiny red, white, and gray Iron Man zoom around the room with tiny little repulsors.
“Follow me,” his tiny little voice squeaked, too quiet for normal human ears. Peter snickered and pulled his mask over his head, following him out the window. Peter crawled up the side of his apartment building to the roof where a cloaked stealth jet was waiting. He could see the shimmer of its outline and, as he approached, a door opened and a ramp descended. Mr. Stark flew inside like a little insect while Peter followed dutifully.
Once inside, Mr. Stark resumed his usual height and programmed the jet to take them to the compound upstate. “Here,” he said as he handed Peter the glasses. “Put them on.”
Peter pulled off his mask, settled them on his nose, and after a deep breath said, “Edith.”
“Stand by for retinal and biometric scan. Retinal and biometric scan accepted. Hello Peter.”
Peter grinned and looked at Mr. Stark. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Mr. Stark clapped Peter on the shoulder and said, “File E616-SM has suit designs to get you started. There should be a weaver at the compound.”
“A weaver?”
“The 3D printer thing that makes your suits.”
“Ohhhh.”
Peter accessed the file and browsed the designs. “Cool...” he breathed. He glanced up to see Mr. Stark smiling fondly at him.
“Alright kid, this is where I leave you.”
Peter jolted and pulled off the glasses. “Wait, what?”
“I’ve got to get back to my world. Pepper, Morgan, responsibilities.” He rolled his eyes good-humoredly, then put his hands on Peter’s shoulders and gave him another once-over.
“You’re doing good, Pete. When the jet gets to the compound, join the team. Move in with them. You’ll be much happier there.”
“I...I don’t know what to say, Mr. Stark.”
“I believe thank you is the common phrase.”
“Thank you! Of course, thank you! It just doesn’t seem enough. I’m so glad I got to see you! I...” Peter abandoned speech and threw himself at him, pulling Mr. Stark into a tight hug. Mr. Stark grunted but returned the hug full force. “Will I ever see you again?” he whispered.
“I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. Who knows, kid? Life is crazy. Multiple universes are weird. I hope so.”
“I hope so, too.”
Mr. Stark surprised Peter by kissing his temple before pulling away. “Stay safe. Make good choices. Kick ass. Be an Avenger. Oh, and check your email.”
Before Peter could reply, Mr. Stark activated his suit, shrinking out of sight and entering the quantum realm.
“Goodbye, Mr. Stark,” he whispered, staring at the space he’d left. “Wait. Check my email?” He put the glasses back on and asked Edith to pull up his emails. There was one from T. Stark that contained a glowing reference letter for college and a personal note that he had better apply to M.I.T. “or else face severe cross-dimensional repercussions.” Peter smiled, feeling warm with hope for the first time since the spell.
As the jet slowed and landed on the roof of the Avengers compound, a second email popped up with a statement from his bank. When Peter opened it, his jaw dropped.
“Holy sh-”
BANG.
Peter squawked and fumbled with the glasses, pulling them off hurriedly and yanking his mask on.
BANG.
“I’m coming! I’m coming! Yeesh! Hold on!” he called as he scrambled to the door before it could be ripped off its hinges. The second he opened the door, War Machine and the Winter Soldier barged in.
Peter held his hands up in surrender. “Jeez, guys! I’m on your side!”
Barnes pressed a finger to his ear and said, “Stand down, it’s Spiderman.”
Peter could hear the tinny response from Falcon. “Are you sure? He kicked our asses at the airport.”
Barnes gave Peter a hard look. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
War Machine’s helmet melted away in a flow of nanotech and Colonel Rhodes tilted his head, looking at Peter carefully.
“Spiderman,” he said.
“Hi, Colonel Rhodes. It’s an honor to meet you, sir. And you, too, Seargeant Barnes.” He shook their hands. “And you, too, Mr. Wilson, sir!” he said as he shook Barnes’ hand, directing his voice toward the earpiece.
“Captain Wilson,” Barnes corrected.
“Sorry! Captain Wilson!”
There was a woosh at the door and Falcon walked in, his wings folding behind him. “Sam is fine. Nice to meet you Spiderman,” he shook Peter’s hand.
Colonel Rhodes spoke up. “We've been waiting for you.”
“You have?!” Peter knew Mr. Stark had said they were probably giving him his privacy, but he still had a hard time believing the Avengers team had been waiting for him to join them.
“You were Tony’s protege. Of course we’ve been waiting for you,” the colonel said. “Tony made a room for you a while ago. It’s still there.” Peter swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.
“Any chance you’ll take off the mask?” Sam asked. “We’re all curious who you are.”
Peter nodded and lifted his hand to the mask, grateful to another universe’s Mr. Stark who gave him another chance, so he didn’t have to be alone anymore. “Yeah, I can do that,” he said as he pulled off his mask.
The End