Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Year  0

Peter Stark was 16 years old.

And Peter Stark was an orphan.

It wasn’t a new thing, actually.

He’d been an orphan for almost two months now. He’d never known his mother, and his father had died in his arms, slipped through his fingers, almost two months ago to the day.

But between almost starving to death on the Benatar ( I lost him, Pep. I lost Dad ) and then recovering in Medical for what felt longer than all his previous medbay stays as Spiderman combined, he hadn’t really thought about it. It wasn’t until today, at the will reading, that the word came to him.

Peter Edwin Stark. Heir to the Stark Fortune and Majority stake in SI stock.

Peter Edwin Stark. Orphan .

After Rhodey broke down in the lawyer’s office and Pepper had to excuse herself to the bathroom before she did the same.

Orphan.

When Happy went to look out the window and somehow Peter was sitting alone just staring at Mr. Lowrey, numbly scrawling his name across the bottom of dozens of legal documents.

Orphan. Orphan. Orphan.

All alone.

Was this how his father felt when Grandpa Howard and Nonna died? Like he was floating in the middle of the sea with the knowledge that he had to either swim or die and even if he swam like his life depended on it he still might die?

Did he feel this numb? Did he feel guilty because he was the only person in the room not crying? Did the word ring in his head over and over and over again until it stopped being a word and felt more like a curse?

Orphan orphan orphanorphanorphan.

Peter had never been alone before.

When he was very young there was always his nanny and his security guy and later, Pepper.

After Afghanistan, his father had been present to the point of hovering, desperate to make up for lost time.

Then the Avengers came into his life and Spiderman, and Peter’s small circle of family exploded with faces and voices of people who would put themselves between him and death a thousand times over.

If Peter was honest, he wasn’t alone now. If anything Rhodey and Pepper and Happy seemed to have taken it upon themselves to pick up the slack where Tony had dropped it in the blip. Rhodey was there when he woke up, Pepper was always home for dinner, Happy was near omnipresent, seemingly trying to make up for the fact that he hadn’t been there to protect Tony on Titan. Not that he could have made any difference, even if he had been.

But all Peter could feel was empty, and all he could taste was ash and all he could see was his father disappearing into dust before his eyes ( It’s okay Peter. I love you. Don’t forget I love you, kid. I’m sorry. ).

Peter Stark was an orphan.

And he’d never felt more alone.

Year 1

“You sure you’re ready for this, sweetheart?” Pepper asked, unnecessarily smoothing her hands down the lapels of his blue suit jacket.

Instead of rolling his eyes the way he wanted to, Peter caught her hands, pretended he didn’t feel them shaking, and smiled.

“It’s not the first press conference I’ve ever run, Pepper.”

Pepper smiled, squeezing his fingers. “I know. I just…are you sure? You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Peter exhaled, they’d been over this. Several times in fact, but Pepper was the closest thing he had to a mother, and he knew her nerves had nothing to do with her thinking he couldn’t handle what he was about to take on.

“The world needs stability, Pepper. The displacement shelters are overrun and the community mental health programs are woefully unprepared and understaffed. And SI needs a public face, someone people feel like they can trust. I know I’m not first string,-”

“Peter.” Pepper chided, immediately and predictably.

“-but I can handle this. And SI can’t keep helping with those programs if our stock keeps plummeting like it has. People are scared, they need something to rely on. Apparently, the Stark name is that thing. You said it yourself, the Stark name is made of iron. If I can help, even a little bit, then I want to do it.”

“I know you do. And I know you can handle it.” Pepper smiled, cupping his cheeks. The chatter outside picked up and she glanced toward the door separating them from the hundred or so reporters that had been called to the press conference. “I just can’t help thinking you shouldn’t have to worry about all this. You should be in school, enjoying being with your friends. He wouldn’t have wanted-“

Peter held back a physical flinch at the reference to the man they’d all mutually agreed to never bring up unless absolutely necessary, but just barely.

“ I want this Pepper. And you know I’ve tested out of several courses at MIT and I’ll have my first degree within the year between tutoring and online classes.” He forced another smile and kissed Pepper’s cheek. “I don’t want you to have to handle all this on your own. I want to help. I got this.”

Pepper’s blue eyes swam suddenly with tears, but she was too professional to let them fall.

“I know you do sweetie.” She smiled, watery and shaky and brave. “Go get ‘em.”

Peter took a deep breath and turned toward the door, waiting for his queue.

“And now I invite to the stage the Heir to Stark Industries and the keynote for today’s press conference, Peter Stark.”

Peter took one more deep breath, plastered on his best media smile, and opened the door.

Year 2

Peter stretched his neck from side to side as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

“EDITH, play some tunes.”

“Of course Peter, anything specific?”

Peter sighed, tossing his suit jacket and tie aside on the lab couch, resisting the urge to drop down beside them for a nap and instead approaching one of the holo tables where he had three prototypes for new wearable tech that R&D had asked for pulled up and ready for work.

“Dad’s playlist, circa 2010.” Peter muttered, shifting around a few files and tossing several in the virtual trash.

Van Halen started to play through the speakers of the lab and Peter’s lips quirked. Gesturing quickly with his thumb, he had EDITH turn up the volume, hunching forward onto the table to peer at some of the coding for the fitness watch displayed.

Some time later his AI's voice drew him out of his thoughts.

“Sir, if I may, you’ve been staring at the same piece of code for nearly an hour, might I suggest a break for some water and a snack.”

Peter blinked and straightened, noting a twinge of pain in his lower back from bending over for so long as he did so.

He sighed, rubbing his face roughly.

“Like father, like son, eh dad?” He muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and wandering over toward the window that had an unobstructed view of the Hudson over the surrounding buildings.

“Sir?”

Peter just shook his head, indicating he hadn’t been addressing EDITH.

He knew why his head wasn’t in the game. Tech development was usually his happy place, able to lift him from even the darkest moods, or at least give him a productive reason to hide from people until they passed, but today his head wasn’t in the game.

He’d been periodically attending the quarterly board meetings for almost a year, ever since publicly stepping into the role as president of SI, the position his father had held before…after making Pepper CEO in his stead. Peter would admit he tried to avoid the board meetings if he could and tried to keep a low profile if he couldn’t, preferring to let Pepper run things. But this meeting had been specifically focused on R&D and product development, which was directly under Peter’s supervision, so he had no choice but to take point.

The board hadn’t been pleased at first with the idea of some wet-behind-the-ears college kid taking an active role in decisions that ultimately effected the company’s bottom line and their pocketbooks. But SI had been in such disarray after the Snap and the chaotic months that followed they hadn’t had much say in Peter activating his stock voting rights (with Pepper acting as his proxy of legal voting age until Peter turned 18 just three weeks ago). Now, it seemed, since peter was acting as a fully independent member of the board, some people still had issues they needed to work out about it.

“And furthermore, after looking at the financial impact of last quarter’s Starkwatch 5.2 launch I think we need to-”

“I’m sorry, but are we seriously taking financial advice from a teenager?”

Peter looked up at the interruption, more surprised than irritated. He couldn’t say the same for Pepper, who sat directly to his right as always and was glaring daggers at the interloper, a young man Peter didn’t know who had only very recently been nominated to join the board. Peter had only met him twice in passing. He was about ten years older than Peter himself but always reminded him of the boys who used to pick on him during the long dark year he’d spent at a sleepaway boarding school before his father had been kidnapped in Afghanistan.

“Mr. Conway if you have a problem with our sitting research and development-“

Peter held up a hand and Pepper fell silent immediately, something that clearly did not escape Mr. Conway’s notice if the way his eyebrows shot up were anything to go by.

“It’s alright Ms. Potts,” Peter said, “Do you have a concern we can address for you Mr. Conway?”

Conway scoffed, clearly not picking up on any of the looks he was getting from some of the older, longer-standing members of the board. “What is it take your kid to work day? Seriously. I didn’t get a Masters in Business from Yale so some teenager could explain product management and market development to me.”

Peter smiled, a smile he’d seen his father smile dozens of times in various SI meetings, the smile of a shark that smelled blood in the water.

“I see. A Masters, was it? Impressive. How much practical experience do you have in the Tech industry specifically?”

Conway shifted in his chair, straightening his jacket. “Well, none in Tech specifically but-”

“No experience, interesting. And what kind of financial evidence can you provide showing your ability to adequately and effectively manage SI’s assets and ensure our continued financial sustainability in the next quarter?”

Conway frowned, glancing around the table, apparently confused at the direction of the altercation. “Well, none, this is my first board meeting, I just-”

“None. Got it. So no evidence of your ability to ensure sound financial oversight of a multi-national, multi-billion dollar tech company, and no experience in said tech industry. So tell me, Eric,” Peter continued in the same politely dismissive tone, purposefully dropping the formality he usually insisted upon in Board Meetings, a subtle queue to anyone smart enough to notice that Peter’s patience was wearing thin. “What exactly was your reason for interrupting the current chairman of this meeting, and sitting President of Stark Industries?”

Eric’s face drained of all color and Peter realized the man hadn’t recognized him. Did the guy live under a rock? If Peter hadn’t been so annoyed he might have been amused.

“But - but, the current president is Peter Stark, Tony Stark’s…” Eric trailed off, apparently suddenly aware of the way everyone in the room was avoiding his gaze except Pepper, who was still trying to melt his face with her eyes alone.

“Son. Yes,” Peter nodded. “That would be me. Now that introductions have been made, and since only one of us brings more than ten years of experience in R&D in the tech industry and is therefore capable of running this portion of the meeting, which is all about the new tech SI is planning to launch in the next two quarters of the year, would it be all right with you if I continued with my presentation?”

Eric Conway’s disrespect hadn’t even bothered Peter really, he’d been in the public eye for a long time and his father had done everything he could to make sure he was ready and able to roll with the punches the public tended to give when they felt like they had the right to opinions about Peter’s life.

What had gotten to him was when Pepper took him aside after the meeting and smiled that warm, watery smile that said she was thinking of her once-fiance.

“He would be so proud of you.”

Peter couldn’t help the way his eyes had burned with tears and he’d bit his lip hard to contain them, thanking Pepper for her support. He'd made his way to the private elevator that would take him to the labs as quickly as he could without looking like he was running.

Peter turned away from the window and looked out over the empty lab. He missed the chatter of working side by side with his dad. Missed their camaraderie and the way they bounced ideas off eachother, a secret language made of inside jokes and sass and tempered with love so deep and wide it felt suffocating sometimes when he was thirteen but now made him feel hollowed out and alone because it was missing.

“Fri-um, EDITH? Save and close my progress on the prototypes and bring up the footage from the Malibu lab of Dad’s first tests with the Mark II Iron Man Suit.”

“Of course Peter, one moment.”

He had three prototypes due in the next week and a half. He really needed to buckle down and get to work.

Instead he slid down to the floor next to DUM-E and watched his dad work.

“Okay. DUM-E look alive, you’re on standby for fire safety. U, roll it.”

Year 3

Three years after losing his father, Peter lost Pepper too.

It wasn’t the same. Pepper wasn’t dying. She was just moving to California to manage SI West Coast. It made sense, she’d been flying back and forth to Japan every few months, developing their Eastern market. The trip will be easier from California, plus all the work she’d been putting in to get SI established in China. The move made sense. Peter knew that.

But it still felt like he was losing another parent.

Not that he would ever tell Pepper that.

Instead, he’d walked around to open the car door for her at the airport where she would board the private flight to LA.

“I’m going to miss you so much, sweetheart.” She pulled him into a hug and Peter went willingly, trying to commit her scent of chamomile and bergamot to memory.

“I’ll miss you too Pep. But we’ll see eachother. There’s still the annual gala in September and the semi-annual global touch base in March.”

“I better not have to wait until September to see you, Mr. Stark.” Pepper stepped back from their embrace with a warning eyebrow raised.

“No ma’am,” Peter promised, certain that by the time either of them realized how long it had been, September would have come and gone. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Pepper, he did. He loved her. Loved seeing her and loved spending time with her.

It was just that it was impossible to look at Pepper without looking for his Dad to be two steps behind her.

So while the part of him that loved Pepper didn’t want her to go to California, the grieving part of him couldn’t wait for her to leave.

Pepper reached up to flatten his perfectly gelled hair, muttering about how tall he’d gotten.

“You’re always welcome, okay? You’ve got a home with me. So if your friends from MIT cancel on you this weekend I expect to see you on my doorstep with pizza and a six-pack of probiotic soda.”

Peter huffed a small laugh, “I promise,” he lied.

Peter had only gone to MIT on campus for two semesters and, aside from a two-week bender where he did his best to try and drown his sorrows in drugs, alcohol, and far-too-willing coeds like the Stark he was (two weeks for him to realize none of that really numbed the pain of missing his dad or the guilt of realizing how broken-hearted he’d be to see him like that), he’d barely left the library and his dorm.

Peter didn’t have friends from MIT.

Peter stood next to Happy on the tarmac leaning against his dad’s old Rolls Royce, Happy was a sentimental guy it turned out. He raised an arm to wave at Pepper when she turned back one last time before disappearing inside the aircraft.

“So,” Happy said, casual and too nonchalant, “cheeseburgers?”

Peter smiled, small and sad, but nodded. “You read my mind, Happy.”

Year 4

Peter was 20 when he moved away from the city.

It turned out it wasn’t just Pepper that made him think of his Dad. Every room in SI, every hallway, every street corner in Manhattan was a minefield of unexpected reminders that could put him on his knees, suddenly gasping for air that no longer existed.

It had been his therapist’s suggestion.

Just for a little while, Peter. Just to get your head on straight. You never really got a chance to grieve. Give yourself a break.

It was true. There was so much to do after the Dusting. Keeping SI afloat, sorting out the world. Peter had barely had time to think for three years.

And when he did, he tended to shut himself away in his father’s lab and watch DUM-E and U’s and later Friday’s security footage of his dad, so desperate to feel his father’s hand on his shoulder he could almost taste it.

So yeah, a change of scenery, that sounded like a good idea. And SI was finally in a solid place, the board had agreed to him taking a sabbatical from the majority of his duties. He could step back. Take stock of himself.

Breathe.

Peter had bought the lakehouse sight unseen. His broker knew him well and knew what he was looking for. Something down to earth and homey brimming with nature and character.

Something nothing like the tower and New York City and the memories he and his father had made there.

Peter caught sight of it about quarter mile down the drive. A decidedly modest dwelling with only three bedrooms and bathrooms camouflaged among the trees and overlooking a peaceful, private lake.

He parked the car and got out, surveying the land. The air smelled of pine and dirt and water lapped gently at the lakeshore below.

He pulled a backpack out of the backseat full of his most valuable items, the rest of his things would have already been delivered and unpacked by the movers, and anything else he needed he could get later.

He crunched over pine needles and gravel as he made his way to the house and scuffed dirt off his shoes on the door mat. The front door squeaked when he opened it and he was met with the silence of a house with no AI’s in the walls once inside.

He dropped his bag to the floor and looked around.

The decorators had done a good job. The place was cozy, all flannel throws and warm wood walls and clunky mission-style furniture.  Not sleek. Not modern. Not futuristic.

Peter slumped against the door and then slid to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees and sniffed, wondering when he’d started crying.

“Home,” he whispered, throat tight, voice wobbly and wet, “welcome home, Peter.”

Year 5

Five years, three months, twelve days.

That’s how long Peter had been an orphan.

He’d tried everything.

Drinking, like his father would have.

Therapy, like Pepper suggested.

Working, like everyone expected.

Running, like he’d always wanted.

He’d tried everything. But nothing had healed the pain. He was older and wiser. And more broken than ever.

Ghen Steve and Nat and Scott showed up on his doorstep with a peace offering and a plan.

Peter stared at Steve for a long time. Scott had rambled, Natasha had known, but Steve. Steve understood.

“This is it Peter," Steve said, “this is our second chance.”

Peter invited them inside.

Chapter Text

Year 0

He didn’t know it would work. Not really.

The science made sense. The planning was airtight. But Peter had lived long enough to know that the world didn’t run on science or planning. It ran on luck. Stark Luck, usually. Chaos and heartache.

But when the portals opened on the battlefield and he stepped through with dust and ozone still clinging to his skin, he believed. For the first time in years, he truly believed.

There was battle all around — shouting, smoke, the crackle of lightning and fire.

And Peter moved through it like a dream. His body remembered how to fight, how to move, how to swing and strike and dodge — but his mind was somewhere else searching and scanning and

Where is he. Where is he. Did it work? Did it work? Did it work?

“Pete?”

Peter froze.

He turned.

And there he was.

Exactly as he remembered — goatee trimmed, armor shining, a tiny scar on his jawline from that final morning shave before they ended up in space. His father.

Alive.

Peter didn’t think. He just ran. He sprint-stumbled through wreckage and dust, armor scraping against crumbling stone, heart clawing at his throat — and slammed into his father with so much force it knocked them both to their knees.

“Dad. Dad. Dad—”

The words dissolved into sobs, barely coherent, but all Tony seemed to understand anyway.

“I gotcha, Pete,” Tony assured him, one armored hand cupping the back of his son’s head, the other around his shoulders holding him as close as his armor would allow. “You okay? Are you—God, you’re shaking.”

Peter clung tighter, sob-laughing, smearing dirt on his face with the tears.

“What happened?” Tony asked, trying to asses his son's arms and legs without letting go of him. “Is it just me or are you bigger than the last time we did this?”

Peter gasped into his shoulder, trying to get his breath back. “Yeah. Probably.”

They didn’t know how long they stayed like that. A minute? An hour? Time stopped meaning anything years ago. All Peter knew was it was too long for an active war zone and not nearly long enough for the chasm of grief in his chest that was just starting to fill.

But the moment broke when someone called out Peter’s name through the chaos.

Peter pulled back, eyes still wet. “We’ve gotta go. There’s still—”

“Yeah.” Tony rested one hand against his kid's cheek, just for a second. “Work to do.”

The mask reformed around his face and Iron Man lifted into the sky.

Like always, Spiderman followed.

Year 1

The lake house was filled with subdued laughter and the clinking of glasses. The ceremony was over a classy, intimate affair held under the weeping willow at the edge of the lake. There were string lights in the trees and music drifting through the air beside lightning bugs on a warm Summer breeze.

Peter stood at the end of the dock, jacket off, bow tie undone with his hands stuffed in his pants pockets, studying the reflection of the stars rippling in the water.

Behind him his closest friends and family danced on a rented dance floor and toasted glasses of champagne. A small, joyful celebration that was a long time coming. Tony and Pepper Stark. Finally.

But here, on the dock, everything felt still, detached somehow. His his own little bubble where his unsettled nerves couldn’t infect the other partygoers, like he was suffering from pink eye instead of a five year habitual aversion to almost all forms of human contact.

Tony found him there. He stood a few feet back, silently watching his son’s brooding for a minute. Then:

“You hiding out, or just sick of hearing ‘At Last’ on repeat?”

Peter huffed a laugh, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Little of both.”

Tony walked up beside him, intentionally brushing their shoulders as he settled his elbows on the railing and gazed out over the water. Tony was an experienced father now, even if he was out of practice. He didn’t push. Just let the silence breathe, broken only by the sound of water lapping gently at the pilings.

“I think I got too used to being alone.” Peter confessed, kicking a small stick off the end of the dock into the water. Only looked down to watch the ripples spread out and away across the still water.

“That’s understandable I think.” He said, chest aching, the way it always did, at the way his son must have suffered, must have grieved, while he was gone. “Anything would be in those circumstances.” 

Peter hummed noncommittally and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the railing beside his dad. 

Tony leaned to one side, nudging Peter with his shoulder. Peter swayed with the movement and looked over, a few curls falling loose and across his forehead, the copious amounts of gel he’d used that day to tame them no longer able to keep up the fight after an entire day in the summer heat. 

“I’m proud of you, you know, kiddo.” 

Peter’s smile was small and sad. “I didn’t do anything.” He dropped his gaze back to the water, hunching his shoulders slightly, trying to hide the way he used to when he was a child, worried he was about to get in trouble for something. 

Tony always went easy on him, convinced there was nothing Peter could do that would be worse than the things he himself had done at the same age. 

“Of course you did,” Tony insisted, not breaking his gaze on the side of Peter’s head. “You kept going. You took over the company during one of the most turbulent times in human history. You guided the company, kept it solvent, profitable even, and did a lot of good too. I’ve done my research. The shelters you established, the community health programs you organized and funded. I-“ Tony paused, unexpectedly choked up at the rush of emotion, of unadulterated pride he felt for what his son had done. Who he’d become. “I am so damn proud of you, kid.” 

Peter turned to the side, giving his dad a watery, warm smile. “Thanks Dad.” 

Tony smiled, throwing an arm over Peter’s back to drag him close, pressing a slopping kiss to his son’s temple so that Peter made a disgusted noise and shrugged him off. 

“Gross Dad. You did that on purpose.” 

Tony ruffled his hair. It was a loss cause anyway. “Damn right I did.” 

Peter scowled, finger combing his hair, not ready to give up on it just yet. “Michelle’s in there, come on.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow, “yeah, about that. Why is she in there and you’re out here. I know you saw that dress she’s wearing.” 

Peter blushed, visible even in the low light of the moon and stars. “I did. It’s…yeah. I did.” 

“You gonna ask her to dance? Something that’s not 'Whip and Nae Nae' I mean.” 

“It’s so embarrassing that you played that.” 

“Hey, it was Happy’s request, you know I can’t deny him anything.”

Peter rolled his eyes. 

“So how about it? You gonna dance with her?” 

Peter shrugged, clearly not indulging that line of questioning. Tony, never one to give up easily, decided to try a different tac. 

“You could’ve gone back to the city by now,” He said. “Why haven’t you?”

Peter sighed and looked out over the lake. “I don’t know.”

“That a real answer, or a Peter Special?”

Peter shrugged again, picking at the skin around his fingers. Tony covered his hands with his own. “I guess I… I keep waiting to feel like myself again. To go back to how it was. But everything’s different now. I’m different.”

Tony hummed. “Yeah. I get that.”

Peter looked over. “You do?”

Tony nodded. “Of course. I missed five years. Five birthdays. Five Christmases. Five you’s. One day I realized I could sit here wallowing in everything I lost, or I could stop wasting time and live the life I still have.” He nudged Peter’s shoulder. “So I married the love of my life.”

Peter’s mouth quirked. “She looked good today.”

Tony grinned. “Yeah. But don’t tell her I said that. She’ll get cocky.”

Peter snorted.

Tony went quiet again. Then continued, gently.

“You don’t have to be stuck, Pete. You’ve still got a life to live. Don’t wait as long as I did to start living it.”

Peter looked out at the lake. Then back at his dad.

“I’ll try.”

Tony threw an arm over his shoulders and pulled him close. “Good. Now c’mon. We’ve got cake. And you’ve got a dance card to fill.”

“Oh my god it’s like you’re 100.”

Year 2

There was snow on the ground and firelight dancing across warm wooden walls.

Peter curled on the floor in sweatpants and socks, leaning back against the couch flipping through cards from a board game that was spread out on the ottoman. In front of him, the fire crackled low. Rhodey and Pepper were bickering about popcorn toppings in the kitchen.

Tony lounged in an armchair nearby, nursing a mug of cider, his face the picture of soft contentment. Behind him the huge pine tree they’d cut down and drug in from the forest behind the lake house nearly a month ago twinkled silently in its holiday dress of twinkle lights and handmade ornaments.

“You good, kid?” he asked, watching Peter shuffle lazily. 

Peter stretched, his new Hello Kitty pajama set - a gag gift from Tony he’d worn everyday since Christmas, stubbornly claiming them to be his favorite - rode up and exposed his stomach. “Yeah. Actually… yeah. I think I am.”

He was quiet for a while, staring into the fire with a thoughtful look on his face. Tony sipped his cider and waited, gently swaying his foot to the Bing Crosby record that played on Peter’s vinyl stereo set nearby.

“I think I want to move back.” Peter said finally, glancing over his shoulder when there was a sudden bark of laughter from the kitchen, followed by an annoyed curse.

Tony raised an eyebrow, bringing his cider mug to rest on his knee. “To the city?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been hiding out here. I was…I felt,” he glanced up at Tony and away again. “I don’t know. Ashamed I guess.”

Tony watched him carefully, a small frown crinkling his brow. “Ashamed? Of what?”

Peter bit his lip, drawing his legs up to lock his arms loosely around his knees. “I stopped going out. As Spiderman. The world needed a hero, it needed Spiderman but I just…I couldn’t do it. I said I was too busy, but really I was just afraid.” He clenched his jaw, and huffed a breath, annoyed at the choices he’d made. 

“You were a kid. It was a scary time,” Tony reached out, resting a hand on his boy’s shoulder. “You don’t need to be ashamed of that.” 

Peter shook his head, but carefully didn’t dislodge his father’s hold. “But I was needed. I should have…I just…” He sighed, dropping his shoulders in something like defeat. “I just couldn’t do it. I was afraid I’d get in over my head. That I would need backup. But…you…” He trailed off, still staring into the fire like it held the answers he was searching for. 

Tony’s grip on his shoulder tightened. 

“Oh.” 

Peter looked up. “But you’re back now. I know…I know Iron Man is retired and all I just…”

Tony swallowed hard, but smiled, patting Peter’s shoulder twice. “Never too retired for you kid. I’ll always be your backup. You know that.” 

Peter grinned.

“So you’re sure about this? Moving back? Going back out in the suit. All of it?”

Peter nodded. The boy turned to watch Rhodey and Pepper return from the kitchen carrying trays of snacks, Rhodey with a huge dark spot on his cream sweater that had to be the unfortunate final resting place for a mug of hot chocolate. 

“I’m ready. I want to live again. Not just… maintain.”

Tony reached out and clinked his mug against Peter’s soda. “Then let’s do it, Spider-Man.”

Year 3

The din of people milling about behind a curtain filtered into the makeup area backstage. Pepper adjusted Peter’s collar, smoothing his lapels and blending a smudge of concealer on his cheek. Tony stood off to the side, watching closely.

Peter winced as Pepper brushed too close to his eye.

“Ow—”

“Sorry,” she murmured, frowning at the fading bruise. “It’s still healing.”

Tony grumbled. “I let him be Spiderman again and what happens? Hit by a truck.”

“I dodged the truck. Mostly.”

Tony raised a brow. “You’re lucky I’m retired or I’d lock down the entire city.”

Peter gave a crooked smile. “Yeah, well. You are retired.”

“Still got my old contacts,” Tony muttered.

“Peter,” the announcer’s voice echoed, “you’re on in thirty.”

Peter took a breath. Adjusted his mic. Smoothed his jacket. He grinned at his dad, who had stepped over to wind an arm around Pepper’s waist. 

“Here goes nothing.” 

“Knock ‘em dead, kiddo.” 

“And stick to the cards.” 

Peter grinned, a chaotic smile that looked exactly like Tony when he was about to start mischief. 

“C’mon Pep, you know me.” 

Pepper sighed, watching him turn and walk onstage. 

“Exactly.” She muttered. Tony pressed a kiss to her hair.

“He’ll be fine, he’s a Stark.” 

Pepper nodded crossing her arms over her chest and turning to watch the monitor on the wall. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

Peter was a pro, he handled the press with ease, conducting them like his own personal orchestra, exactly how his father had taught him.

Start with a joke, a nod to the crowd, give a good soundbite, smile for the cameras. Then, take care of business.

Peter raised his hands and the room hushed smartphones and cameras all locked on his face, hanging on every word.

“The world has changed. We’re living in a time of transition. A time of fear and of hope. People still need heroes. And while I will always believe in Iron Man, Captain America, and the original Avengers… it’s time for a new generation.”

Flashbulbs sparked. Reporters leaned forward.

“Which is why I’m proud to introduce the New Avengers Initiative— made up of Captain Marvel, Black Panther, Deadpool, and Spiderman, who due to his experience and background, will be taking on a leadership role with the new team.”

Murmurs rolled through the crowd.

“Spiderman? But how can you know he will agree. Most people can’t even get a picture of him. Just blurry phone footage on YouTube.” One of the reporters called out, igniting a chorus of agreement from the room at large. 

Peter sighed, glanced down at his speech cards and then back up at the crowd. He grinned.

Cameras clicked, chairs squeaked as reporters leaned forward to get a better view. 

“Well, the truth is…I am Spiderman.”

Somewhere backstage a laugh rang out, followed closely by a long-suffering groan. 

Year 4

The nursery was dim and quiet. A mobile of stars turned lazily above the crib.

Tony quietly opened the door and tiptoed across the plush round rug, quiet as he could. The baby was sleeping. A girl. Tiny and wrinkly and perfect.

He sighed, leaning down on the railing of the crib. He reached out, tenderly smoothing the baby’s silky soft curls with a single finger, misty-eyed, his heart aching in the best way.

“You don’t know me yet,” he whispered, drawing a gentle finger down her round, soft cheek. “But I’m your grandpa. And you’re the best thing to happen to this family in a long, long time.”

Behind him, the door creaked slightly as it was pushed open. Peter leaned against the frame, half-asleep. 

“You do know breaking and entering is still illegal, right?”

Tony turned, hands up in mock surrender. “You said the key was for emergencies.”

“Yeah. And I’m guessing ‘midnight baby stare’ doesn’t qualify.”

Tony grinned. “Sue me.”

Peter chuckled and walked over. He leaned over to the rail to gaze at his daughter. Barely two days old and somehow holding his entire being in a vice grip. 

“How’s Michelle?”

“Tired.” Peter ran a hand over his face. Truth bye told, Michelle wasn’t the only one, but he wasn’t going to start complaining now. “She was amazing. They both were.” 

Tony smiled softly and turned back to look at the baby. “I wish we could have been here in time.” 

“You’re here now, aren’t you?”

Peter bent over and carefully he lifted the baby and placed her in Tony’s arms waiting arms.

“We named her after MJ’s mom and…you. Meet your granddaughter. Madeline Antonia Stark,” Peter murmured.

Tony’s face crumpled.

“I—” he swallowed. “That’s… that’s a lot of name for someone so small.”

Peter smiled, eyes glassy. “She’s gonna be big enough for it.”

Tony sniffed, trying and failing to keep his composure. “It’s a good thing I got rid of that arc reactor. All this love would never have fit if I still had it.” 

“You sap,” Peter snarked, even as he reached up to wipe roughly at his eyes.

Just then a voice crackled through the baby monitor.  

“If you two cry loud enough to wake her up, I will make fun of you forever,” said MJ.

Peter and Tony snorted in unison.

“She’s just jealous,” Tony whispered to the baby, stroking her cheek again. “You’re still the cutest one here.”

Year 5

The lake house was full of life again.

Balloons bobbed in the breeze. A few Avengers, new and old, milled around a picnic table while MJ tried to corral a pack of toddlers toward a cupcake station.

Tony stood off to the side, drink in hand, watching his son.

Peter laughed with Happy and Rhodey, stabilizing baby Maddie on his hip with one hand, a sparkler in the other. He looked confident. Relaxed. 

He looked… whole.

Tony’s hair was greying. His knees popped when he stood too fast. But he’d never felt younger.

A while later, after the toddlers had either gone home or gone to bed and the party had moved inside to shift into the Adult Beverages portion of the evening, he and Peter walked down to the dock. It wasn’t quite sunset, but the light was soft, golden, filtering through the trees as they shifted in the breeze.

“You did good, kid.” Tony said, squeezing his shoulder.

Peter glanced over, brow lifted. “You sound surprised.”

Tony smirked. “Not surprised. Just proud.”

Peter shifted his daughter in his arms. “It’s been a long road.”

Tony nodded. “But you made it.”

Peter looked down at his daughter. Then back up at his father.

“I guess I’m not an orphan anymore.”

Tony bent down to sweep a kiss across his granddaughter’s forehead, then straightened to press one against Peter’s cheek. “Kid, you never were.”

Inside the cabin suddenly exploded with laughter. And Peter smiled. 

“I guess you’re right.”

They stood like that for a while as the sun went down — the past behind them, the lake before them, and the next five years waiting in the golden light.