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The boardroom was stuffed full with men and women in black and blue suits, all sitting at the long table and thinking of something or other. Peter could only recognise two of the strangers— Nick Fury and Maria Hill, standing before them at the end of the table and droning on and on about the situation on their hands. Peter stopped listening the very second the adults' attention had been drawn away from him.
Tony, noticing the subtle changes in Peter's posture, his shoulders drawing into himself with every word about the future that he spoke, had swiftly moved the conversation away from him and onto the state of things present instead. Fury, despite the obvious understanding of the change of topic, didn't press, but judging by the glances Peter had caught the man throwing his way, he only cooperated out of his desire to drill Peter for information without Thaddeus Ross in the room.
That was fine. He could understand that. It would be easier to speak of things in a company a few people short of their current one, too. He could board that train.
Tony leaned over, head tilting to the side, and drew Peter's focus to himself with a tap on his arm. Peter met him halfway, not taking his gaze away from the faces at the front.
"I'm thinking— after this catastrophe of a meeting ends," Tony whispered, making a small gesture at the rest of the room with his hand, "we should go down to the workshop— take a little detour before we get hounded by Fury. I'll order some food for us."
"Thai?" Peter whispered back. Fury, without interrupting his own speech, looked right at him, raising an eyebrow. Peter tilted his head back and grinned, all dramatics and feigning attention. A glimmer of indignation breaking into his expression, Fury broke their stare.
"Sure, Thai," Tony leaned back in his seat. His arm came up to wrap around Peter's shoulders with a light squeeze. Peter leaned into the embrace. "I've got some ideas for the nanotech in your suit. You'll love them, I'm sure— I based some things off the sketches you gave me— "
Colonel Rhodes, who'd been sitting at the other side from Peter, slapped the hand resting on Peter's shoulder. It must have been a hard hit, because Mr. Stark flinched, sending an offended glare the man's way.
'Pay attention,' Colonel Rhodes hissed to him.
Peter hid his giggle behind his hand. A few eyes turned their way to give them sceptical looks, but other than that, the flow of conversation didn't stutter.
The three of them, all exhausted, fled the Compound as soon as the meeting was dismissed, not giving anybody the chance to stop them on the way out.
The workshop at Stark Tower, to Peter, always held a vibrant smell: a mixture of hot metal and machine oil, sometimes flavoured with burning plastic or rubber; and if he caught Tony on a days-long lab binge, he would also smell coffee. It was disgusting, and Peter loved it to no end. Somewhere between his first visit to one of Tony's workshops and the arrival of Thanos, those scents became something he would almost call a second home.
When the horrible mix of machine oil and freshly brewed caffeine hit his nostrils on his way into the workshop, Peter turned to look curiously at the table in the corner. The coffee machine was already on.
"FRIDAY, dear, you're the best," Tony said from behind him. He ushered Peter further into the workshop, strolling towards the half-ready drink with relief rolling off his shoulders.
Peter chuckled. "Where's my Thai, then?"
"FRIDAY?"
"Fifteen minutes out, Sir," the AI declared. Tony tilted his head her way.
"Thanks," Peter smiled.
He stretched his arms out with a pleased groan, glad to finally be out of the boardroom and out of the closed space of the car seat. His body felt stiff, and his muscles ached from remaining in the same position for several hours straight, unmoving except for the slight shifting in his seat.
A hand landed on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. Peter turned to see Tony, smiling at him with that crinkle he sometimes gained at the corners of his eyes, a mug of coffee already filled and in his other hand.
"Are you up for work yet? I wasn't kidding when I said I had the blueprints from nanotech stored for you to take a look," he said. "Or would you rather take a break?"
"Uh, take a break?" Peter tilted his head. "I have plans later today— MJ agreed to go out with us! Can you imagine that? It took me so long to get to have a decent conversation with her in the original timeline, but now we're already hanging out!"
"Oh? Well, good for you, then." The man chuckled. He ruffled Peter's hair and went towards the desk at the centre of the space. "I'm sure I can get Fury off your tail for the day, then."
"Last time Happy tried, Fury broke into my hotel room and shot Ned with a tranq."
Tony sputtered, choking on his drink. "I'm sorry, he what? "
It was a nice summer day out. Not a single cloud in the sky, and the temperature was spot-on for Peter to feel comfortable without it getting too hot or too cold. He, Ned, and Michelle decided to take a stroll through Central Park, armed with a picnic rug and a bag full of snacks. He knew Ned had also brought a board game or two, and he was certain that MJ had something stored in her own bag.
They settled in a spot as far away from the masses of people as they could manage and talked about all the things that came to mind.
It felt peaceful. Peter loved it.
Watching Ned and Michelle talk, eyes squinting under the sunlight, laughing at some joke Peter unfortunately missed— it felt like warm, like coming home again, back when the only things occupying Peter's mind were childish and more often than not also school-related.
He could push world-ending threats out of his mind for a second.
"Peter, man, are you okay?"
"Huh?"
"You've been staring at that ant for the past few minutes." Michelle looked at him, a frown on her face. At her side, Ned mirrored the expression, concern and wonder brimming in his gaze.
Peter winced. He hadn't even noticed the moment he spaced out. "I was— thinking. About things."
"Oh? And what were those things, exactly?"
"Are you sure you're not a dream?" He blurted, his gaze turning away, his face flushing with warmth.
A short silence followed. Peter determinedly kept his focus on the people wandering around— alive and well, smiling and laughing just as he was now. Despite himself, he smiled.
"Well, I can pinch you, if you wanna check," Michelle said, with a tilt to her head.
For some reason, that made him burst into laughter.
In the corridor of his apartment stood a wide mirror, having three separate sides that could move and fold to the owner's wish. Peter stopped in his tracks on the way to his room, for a moment lingering to stare at his reflection.
'This isn't a dream,' he thought. 'I am literally standing in my home, in a body several years younger than I remember it being.'
It felt surreal at times. Peter felt like a fish out of water, going in blind with no clear instructions on how to approach his problems and what to do about them. In those moments, when he doubted himself, when fear clawed at his throat and restricted his movements, he, more than ever, appreciated the thought of finally not being alone.
Something was burning in the kitchen down the corridor. He heard as May jumped off of her spot at the table, where she sat no doubt with a book in hand, and rushed to turn off the stove with a bunch of Italian curses flowing out of her mouth.
He grinned. The reflection in the mirror grinned back. He called out, looking in the direction of the kitchen, "I suppose we're getting takeout today?"
After a short pause, May called after him, "Nope! All's under control!"
Peter stepped deeper into the apartment, giggling under his breath and with a spring to his step. A stray tear rolled down his cheek, but he brushed it away with a knuckle of his finger before May could see him. They were happy tears, anyway.
Once he stepped over the threshold into the kitchen, he was immediately engulfed in a tight hug. Still smiling, he wrapped his arms around his aunt in a hug just as firm as hers.
"Welcome home, sweetie," she greeted. Her voice soothed the nervous energy still left from patrol, sending shivers through his body. Peter leaned into it, inhaling the homey smell hovering in the air.
Peter pressed his face against May's shoulder. "I missed you," he whispered.
May only squeezed him tighter.
It was home.