Archive of Our Own

Peter blearily woke up to a sharp ache pounding at the back of his head. Overhead, a dingy streetlight bathed the surrounding darkness in a pale light. Beneath him, Peter could feel the rough asphalt uncomfortably chafe against him as he moved to sit up.

He sluggishly brought his gloved hand up to the sore spot on his head and rubbed against it in a soothing motion. He grimaced at the sensation before letting out a quiet groan. Pushing his hand beneath his mask, Peter ran his fingers through his tangled hair with what little space the mask offered. As he did, Peter felt a familiar warmth seep into his fingers as his hand slid across the painful spot. Hissing out a wounded sound, Peter quickly drew his hand back from underneath the mask.

Bringing his hand forward, Peter noticed a deep crimson red marring his usually scarlet glove. “Huh, head injury. Cool. cool, cool, cool… Not cool actually, definitely not good.” Peter muttered to himself frantically. 

“Karen? Can you get in touch with Mr. Stark, please?” Peter pleaded somewhat woozily. After a beat of silence, the telltale chime of the suits system rebooting rang out. A moment later,  Karen's mechanical voice sounded distinctly apologetic in his ears. “I’m sorry Peter, but I am unable to reach Mr. Stark as of now.”

Peter instantly felt a mounting concern pool in his guts. “I hope he’s alright…” He mumbled quietly. 

“I am sure Mr. Stark is managing. However, I suggest you seek medical attention as soon as possible.” Karen buzzed, her robotic voice sounding strangely worried.

Peter shook his head, then immediately regretted it when sharp bursts of pain bloomed in his head as a result. “No, there's no time for that. I need to figure out what’s going on first.”

“Beforehand, I advise you to allow me to ask some routine questions to assess the severity of your injury.”

“Fine,” he whined. 

“What is your full name?”

“Peter Benjamin Parker, at your service!” he said with a mock salute, grinning at his own antics.

“Where are you?”

Peter froze at the question, “uhh…” he sounded sheepishly. “That’s actually a good question…”

Taking stock of his surroundings, Peter determined that it was late at night. Furthermore, he established his location to be a run-down alley. To his left, Peter spotted an overfull dumpster leaking a suspicious liquid in a rhythmic staccato. The alley was enclosed by two red brick walls on each side, belonging to two separate, yet identical apartment complexes. One of the walls had a conveniently placed fire escape mounted on it. 

Tuning into his senses, Peter listened to the sounds of the city. Distant traffic coupled with the dull thud of footsteps filled his ears. Additionally, the clicking of a pair of heels scattered into the melting pot of sounds. The chilly night wind breezed through the alley, and Peter’s body shivered in response. This was way too quiet to be New York City.

Peter shifted nervously, “I want to say New York City, but I’m not too sure about that.” 

“Your deduction is correct, your current location is Cambridge, Massachusetts. Not New York City.”

“Massachusetts!?” Peter echoed in disbelief, the lenses on his mask widening cartoonishly. With great effort, Peter tried desperately to recall the events that led him to a shabby alley all the way in Massachusetts. However, his mind drew a blank. ”Karen! skip the rest of the questions, pull up all the footage from the last 24 hours.” 

“Apologies Peter, but I’m afraid most of yesterday’s data has been severely damaged. I can try to salvage what remains. Would you like me to proceed?” Karen's voice reverberated in his ear.

Peter laughed breathily, Parker Luck was at play again. Shaking his head slowly to dispel the thought of his haunting luck, Peter answered. “Yes, proceed. Show me what you got, please.” He said with a restless quality to his voice.

Yesterday’s footage danced across his HUD, intermittently glitching in jagged motions. Moreover, the audio crackled in and out at seemingly random intervals. Peter could vaguely make out Iron Man slicing through the air. However, Mr. Stark appeared to lack some of his usual finesse. The suit staggered and jerked in an uneven manner. 

“Pet… I’m… ing… own…Ge.. aw..y…BLAST!” Mr. Stark’s voice sputtered robotically from the video.

“Mr. St-rk!” Video-Peter shouted as the footage abruptly cut off after flashing a vibrantly purple hue.

Peter let out a frustrated groan at the lack of information the video provided him with. At the same time, worry gripped his chest. Peter hoped Mr. Stark hadn’t taken too hard of a blow.

“What do you think Karen? Something must’ve been messing with our tech. A really strong EMP attack maybe?” Peter said jokingly, putting emphasis on ‘really’ by dragging out the vowels in an exaggerated manner. Mr. Stark has safety protocols in place to shield against those kinds of disturbances. Besides, it seemed unlikely for the world’s biggest tech mogul to be taken out be a regular EMP attack.

Karen hummed in a mimicked thoughtfulness before she replied. "While an electromagnetic pulse can cause considerable damage to delicate components and electrical wiring, the effect should be negligible on the hardened Iron Man and Spider-Man suits.”

“Exacty! It shouldn’t even be able to cause a minor interference!” Peter huffed out, his hands flying up in a wild gesture.

Peter stewed in thoughtfulness for a while. Although he couldn’t exclude the EMP-theory, Peter still wondered, with the suit essentially being a big hunk of metal, shouldn’t it function as an overly complex Faraday Cage? 

Belatedly, Peter’s Spider-Sense buzzed mutedly at the back of his neck in a low and pulsing fashion. Narrowing his eyes, Peter swept over his surroundings again more carefully. Zeroing in on the dumpster to his left, Peter’s Spider-Sense flared. 

From underneath the classically green dumpster, a dull purple light was emitted. Crawling towards the dumpster, Peter kept his face pressed close to the ground. Hidden beneath a month’s worth of garbage, a purple rock gleamed ominously. 

Peter fired a web at the stone, reeling it in with a flick of his wrist. Quietly examining the object, Peter couldn’t help but groan exaggeratedly. He recognized the rock, it held an eerie resemblance to what ruined his friends’ field trip to the Washington Monument back during the homecoming fiasco. Peter thought about his last run in with alien technology with grievance, remembering the Vulture. 

“Hey Karen, can you run a quick scan on this glowy thing? Just please tell me it’s not a bomb this time.” 

After a beat of silence Karen’s voice chimed in his ear “Although I cannot ascertain its origins, I can confirm that even if it does bear some similarities to the Chitauri Energy Core you are familiar with, this core is not yet at risk of exploding. However, if the core is exposed to excessive force it might result in an explosion.”

“Sweet, not yet a bomb!” Peter said, pumping his fist in the air. “This totally changes the EMP-theory, I mean who really knows what alien tech is capable of? Karen, create a new folder and label it ‘Souped Up Alien EMP Attack Theory’ and put everything we know into it. Thanks!” 

“Done, now kindly attend to your head injury. You are displaying signs of minor short-term memory loss caused by blunt-force head trauma. ”

Peter winced at the reminder. Moving to stand up, Peter felt an odd sense of vertigo overtake him. “Whoa” he sounded quietly, steadying his feet. Peter furrowed his brow, then moved to exit the alley. The night sky above him offered just a few more stars than the heavily light-polluted New York sky. 

Walking The streets of what was apparently Cambridge, Massachusetts. Peter couldn’t help but feel out of place. The constant bustling of New York City anchored him. Cambridge’s comparatively quieter nature made him feel off-kiltered. Yet, there was something else nagging at his senses, sending unpleasant sparks up the back of his neck. 

Keeping an even pace, Peter noted the strangely retro quality to the area. The cars looked ancient compared to modern standards and the storefronts that lined the streets had a vintage feel to it. “Uhh… Is Massachusetts having some kind of retro get-together, or what?” He mumbled to himself, his Spider-Sense growing more incessant by the second.

Spotting a newspaper and magazine display in a shop’s window, Peter peaked inside. However, his face soon paled at what greeted him. At the forefront, a newspaper featured Mr. Stark's intoxicated face plastered on its front page. The heading read: ‘Young Prodigy or Delinquent? Anthony Edward Stark Seen Partying it Up at MIT! ’ 

The face on the cover carried a distinctly boyish nature, young and unburdened in a way Peter had never seen him before. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes were slightly dopey looking. Although, that might be a side-effect of heavy alcohol consumption. 

Peter’s eyes trailed down to the right hand corner of the page, his hand shook in nervous tremors. Printed in ink on the cheap and thin newspaper was written: ‘Issue #264, 09-14-1986’.

“Karen..? I might’ve hit my head a bit harder than I thought… ‘Cause I think I might be hallucinating right now, or does that say 1986?” Peter said with a manic lilt to his voice. “Or is someone playing a prank on me? Guys, you can jump out of the bushes now!” He said to the empty air around him, nervously chuckling.

“A quick sweep over the web shows no indication of this being a hoax. Every recently posted article is dated 1986. I suggest you operate under the assumption that you have been displaced in time.” Karen replied, her replicated humanoid voice sounding almost hesitant.

“Oh my God, Ned is totally gonna freak out when I tell him, this is so cool! Wait, no. How am I supposed to get back?!” Peter said, pacing back and forth on the side-walk. “May’s gonna be so worried if I don’t get back home in time for dinner…”

Peter bit down sharply on his lower lip. He forced himself to take long, measured breaths. Panicking didn’t help anyone. 

Figuring that he should start small, Peter decided that he should find something more inconspicuous to wear. He patted down his pockets, finding two crumpled＄100 bills. Mr. Stark must have shoved them in there at some point. Suddenly, Peter felt immensely grateful for his mentor’s loaded bank account.

He resisted the temptation to swing to the nearest shopping mall. Instead, Peter opted to walk, taking into account his still throbbing head injury. “Okay Karen, point me to the nearest mall, please!” 

An instant later, Peters HUD lit up with a simplified map etched into the corner of his vision, charting the fastest path to a small shopping mall near the MIT campus. “ETA circa 17 minutes by foot.” Karen’s voice rang out.

“Alrighty, promise you won’t snitch on me to May, but I think we’re gonna have to break in. Unless this place runs ‘round the clock.” 

…

The dark and empty mall felt strangely uncanny in all its 1980’s glory. It was silent except for Peter’s light footsteps hitting the ceramic-tiled floor in even clicks. Peter felt like he was in one of those haunting analogue horror videos on YouTube, or maybe an ARG. Either way, he felt unusually nervous despite his Spider-Sense having calmed down significantly. 

Weaving past the security cameras, Peter was careful to not get caught. Lest he wanted a Spider-Man sighting before he was even born. 

Darting into a store that didn’t look like it would rob him of all he owned, Peter picked out a plain, dark red hoodie, a pair of jeans, and a black backpack. Walking into the back of the store, Peter also borrowed a pen and paper to write a note. Leaving one of his ＄100 bills on the counter, Peter wrote a quick thank-you note detailing what he took. Finishing it off with a little smiley and a crudely drawn spider. Peter grinned at the note before leaving to find a bathroom.

Before changing, Peter washed out his blood-matted hair and wound in the bathroom sink. Then, he carefully patted it dry with an unspecified amount of paper towels. Peter changed quickly, foregoing the suit but keeping his shooters on just in case.

He hurriedly shoved his suit and the purple rock into his backpack. Afterwards, Peter felt a tad bit guilty about the bloody mess he made out of the public bathroom. Dutifully cleaning it up before leaving, he made his way out of the mall.

Peter felt conflicted at what to do next. Surely, he would have to examine the alien core somehow to get a better grasp of what exactly brought him 31 years into the past.

His first thought was sneaking into the MIT labs. However, with students milling about constantly and the tight security, it would be drastically harder than the easy mall heist Peter just pulled off.

He also felt unsure of his ability to con his way into the university. He had the technical skills and understanding to fit in. Unfortunately, the full, baby-fat cheeks that stubbornly clung to his face were a dead giveaway to his adolescence.

Lastly, the most risky of his options was to somehow get in contact with the young, not-yet Mr. Stark. Through Mr. Stark, Peter would have a near limitless supply to extract all the information he needed to ascertain exactly what the strange rock was, and if it could be used to get him back home. Nonetheless, did he dare to potentially cause divergencies in time?

Every move he made in the past could theoretically cause ripples through time and change the outcome of the future. Or perhaps the future would stay the same. Instead, this reality would branch off into a separate one entirely. Peter's head swirled with half baked theories and possibilities he’d come across throughout his late night study sessions.

Steeling his mind, Peter figured that his only way forward was through Mr. Stark. Nevertheless, he would have to go about it with utmost caution. He needed to be careful not to reveal anything that could potentially affect the future.

Crawling up the side of the mall, Peter dug out his mask from his backpack. Squatting down on the edge of the rooftop, Peter slipped the mask over his head. Instantly, his vision sharpened through the Stark-grade protective lenses.

“Karen, what’s the time?” 

“It is currently 1:14 A.M.”

“Okay, now if I was a 16 year old Mr. Stark, where would I be right about now..?”

“Most likely at a party.”  

Peter laughed, “true!”

Putting all his focus into his hearing, Peter filtered out everything else. The honking cars and the few pedestrians that were still out and about became background static in his search for Mr. Stark. Although Peter’s hearing wasn’t on par with the likes of Daredevil, he was still close enough to MIT’s student dormitories that he felt confident in his enhanced senses’ ability to pick up on a noisy party.  

Eventually, the sound of flasks clinking together and the thumbing of a loud bass glided into his ears. “Bingo! Now, there’s no time to lose.” Peter muttered to himself.

Peter got up from his crouched position. Gritting his teeth, Peter prepared to swing towards the sound. He rolled his wrists once or twice before testing his web-shooters. With two distinct thwip sounds, the white webbing flew out of his shooters. Bracing himself for a rough ride, Peter dove off the building in one sweeping motion.

Sticking close to the shadows, Peter tried to be as stealthily as he could while swinging through the city in wide arcs. 

When Peter got close enough to physically feel the vibrations of the heavy bass traveling through the air, he attached a web to a nearby building’s ledge. Hoisting himself up onto the roof, Peter had to take a moment to steady himself. Letting the pulsing flashes of pain wash over him, Peter spied into the adjacent dormitory building. 

One of the windows flashed in wild colors, lighting up the entire dorm. Peter could make out a few passing silhouettes fluttering by the window in a sluggish mosey.

“Boy, I sure do feel like a creep doing this.” He muttered to himself humorously. 

Looking out from his vantage point, Peter sat down comfortably. “Time to play the waiting game, my favorite.” He said with false joviality.

After roughly an hour of waiting, Peter spotted two familiar figures stumbling out of the adjacent building. Suddenly, Peter’s heart inexplicably ached at the sight of the two familiar yet different young boys, and an odd sense of longing overtook him. The two friends were fumbling about in a drunken stupor, a clearly inebriated Mr. Stark leaned heavily onto a slightly more sober Colonel Rhodes.

Stashing his mask into the front pocket of his hoodie, Peter swallowed hard before soundlessly crawling down the building's wall. However, just before he was about to approach Mr. Stark, a restless nervousness gripped him. The feeling was not unlike how he’d felt when he first saw Mr. Stark leisurely talking with May in his small but homey Queen’s apartment. Back when Iron Man himself had come to recruit Spider-Man to help bring in the rogue avengers. 

However, it was too late to get cold feet now. Besides, Peter had helped drunk people get home before, this was practically the same thing. Strengthening his resolve, Peter jogged towards the pair. As he got closer, their slurred conversation became more apparent.

“We are never going to a dorm party again. It’s WAY too cramped. How do people even live in dorms anyways? They’re basically glorified shoeboxes!” Mr. Stark struggled through the sentence, hiccups scattered in between the words.

“Well Tony…” A beat of silence passed before he continued, ”not everyone can afford a luxury apartment in Boston.” Colonel Rhodes said almost incoherently, although a tinge of exasperation could be heard clearly in his voice.

“Touché” Mr. Stark conceded.

Peter halted to a stop a couple of meters in front of them, “hey guys, you good?” He asked awkwardly, although a note of earnest concern shone through his stiled speech. “I mean, you don’t look so good. Not to say that you don’t look good, you do!” Peter mentally face-palmed himself. “Anyways, I'm getting off-track. I just thought that you might need some help getting home, so I came here to offer…” Peter trailed off, realising he’d fallen into a nervous ramble.

Mr. Stark looked him up and down judgmentally. “What are you trying to get at…” He said flatly, as he tried to point a finger at Peter. However, he missed the mark by a wide margin. Instead, he pointed somewhere to Peter's left.

Peter's eyes widened in response and his hands flew up in front of his chest in a weak defense, his palms facing outwards.”Nothing dude, I swear. You just looked like you could use some extra help.” 

Peter shifted nervously as he felt the tendrils of guilt creep up his limbs. Although he didn’t want to trick Mr. Stark into helping him get home, the situation didn’t leave him with much of a choice. Besides, he did genuinely want this Mr. Stark to get home safely as well. 

Mr. Stark opened his mouth, but before he could respond his face drained of all color. Then, Mr. Stark swiftly turned to the side, and promptly puked his guts out on the concrete ground.

Colonel Rhodes’ voice floated in from beside him, “aw man, at least have the conscience to vomit on the grass. That shit just splattered all over my pants… You ruined the pathway too.” 

Feeling largely out of place, Peter moved towards Mr. Stark. His hand hovered uselessly above the other’s back, “hey, you sure you’re alright..?” he voiced sincerely. Mr. Stark wiped the corners of his mouth using his expensive jacket’s sleeve, then he turned his head to look at Peter from his hunched position.

Mr. Stark studied his face for a long moment, enough for Peter to feel duly uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he seemed to find what he was looking for, because a moment later he sighed and straightened his back. “Alright,” Mr. Stark spoke, sounding a little more clearheaded than before. “You want to help? Here, catch!” Mr. Stark dug around in his pocket before throwing a small rectangular object at him. 

instinctively catching it mid-air, Peter started at the object. In his hands rested a car key to what Peter knew was a ridiculously expensive car. 

“Congratualtion, you’re now my designated chauffeur for the night." Mr. Stark said flippantly. “You already know who I am of course, but you can call me Tony. None of that ‘Anthony’ stuff, or I might just puke again.” Tony said as he waved his hand, heading towards the nearest parking lot. Although Tony seemed more grounded than before, Peter could clearly see how the other boy struggled to walk in a straight line.

“Hey Tony, wait up! You can’t just assign some random guy to be your driver. I mean, can this kid even drive?” Colonel Rhodes tried to reason with Tony, sounding a tad bit more sober than before. “And you, you can just ignore him if you want to. You don’t need to drive us.” He said to Peter sympathetically.

“Right, good point. I forgot to ask.” Tony said before turning to Peter. “Hey, you know how to drive, don’t you?” He shouted.

Peter only nodded dumbly in reply, feeling particularly like he was experiencing an out-of-body experience. 

“See, he totally wants to drive us. Now c’mon, car’s parked just right up ahead.”

Forcing his feet to move, Peter trailed after Tony and Colonel Rhodes. 

“I’m sorry about that guy,” Colonel Rhodes slowed down to keep pace with Peter, “he’s a bit… eccentric.” He whispered to Peter.

“I don’t mind.” Peter answered good-naturedly.

Colonel Rhodes laughed, “then you’d be the first of your kind.” 

Peter flashed him a toothy grin, feeling more relaxed after talking with Colonel Rhodes.

“I’m Rhodey by the way. Though, I never caught your name.”

“Oh right! Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself first! My aunt would skin me alive if she knew I’d lost my manners like this.” Peter said sheepishly, “I’m Peter, Peter Parker.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Peter Parker.”

The walk to the car was spent in companionable silence, with only a few cheeky remarks from Tony along the way. 

…

The overly flashy car was atrociously parked, sporting a nice 45 degree angle from the white guidelines. At the sight, Peter was fondly reminded of his Mr. Stark’s down-right horrible driving. Well, to be fair, his driving wasn't inherently bad. Mr. Stark could drive, it was just that his driving was exceedingly fast-paced. Making Peter feel like he’d been unceremoniously dropped into a washing machine every time he got into a car with Mr. Stark behind the wheel.

“What are you waiting for? Get in!” Tony yelled, having just opened the door to the front passenger seat. “I’m riding shotgun!” 

As Rhodey got into the backseat, Peter shook off his backpack and scrambled to open the door to the driver’s seat. He got into the car carefully, afraid to damage anything. Peter was painfully aware that just the leather seat probably cost more than his and May’s rent. Turning around to set his backpack down on the floor of the back of the car, Peter then turned to face the steering wheel.

Pushing the key into the ignition and turning it once, the car roared to life with a smooth purring sound. Peter wiped his sweaty palms on his pants before gripping the steering wheel with more force than necessary.

Pulling out of the parking lot, Peter gathered enough courage to ask a question. “So… Where exactly do you live?”

upon receiving no answer, Peter glanced to his side where Tony sat. Finding the man entirely knocked out, Peter lost control for a moment. The car swerved slightly before he got it under control a second later. Breathing out a stressed sigh, Peter shot a quick look at the rearview mirror. 

Rhodey sat crossed armed in the backseat, resting his head against the window. "Um Rhodey?"

The man jerked in surprise.“Yeah?” he said drowsily. 

“...Where does Tony live?”

“Just… Drive to central Boston, I’ll tell you when we’re there” Rhodey replied vaguely.

“Yeah, sure thing man.” Peter shot him a strained smile in the rearview mirror.

After roughly 20 minutes, Rhodey’s sleep-laden voice drifted in from the backseat. “It’s right up here, just take the next left.”

“Yessir,” Peter said, trying to hold back his laughter. He felt especially funny considering the young man’s future military career.

When Peter took the next left as Rhodey instructed, an extravagant apartment building hove into view. Instantly, Peter knew this was where Tony must live. 

The driveway up to the building was lined with lush vegetation. Along the way, Peter spotted a pond filled with golden koi fish swimming about. The pond had its own tiny waterfall, keeping it properly oxygenated for the fish.

Just outside the building, a fancy sign was erected. Peter thought the building’s name must’ve been written on it. However, it was written in overly elaborate cursive, and judging by the amount of vowels the name featured, Peter guessed that it must be French. This all combined made Peter give up on trying to read the sign.

Driving into the parking garage, Peter parked the car somewhat crookedly. Feeling as if he had swung from The Bronx to Brooklyn, Peter let go of the steering wheel and heaved a heavy sigh of relief. 

He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants again and chanced a glance at Tony. However, the other boy was still steadfastly passed out. Directing his eyes to the rearview mirror instead, Peter found Rhodey doing marginally better than his friend. He was rubbing his red eyes groggily and stretching his arms out tiredly. 

“We’re here!” Peter said, bringing his hand up in an awkward display of jazzhands as a failed attempt at humour.

“Thanks man, we owe you one.” Rhodey said, yawning. He moved to get out of the car, and Peter hurriedly picked up his backpack from the backseat. He opened the car door frantically and tried to get out. However, since the car was so low to the ground, Peter struggled to even get his foot out. 

When Peter finally managed to stumble out of the car in an undignified sprawl, he saw Rhodey pulling open the front passenger door. 

Rhodey nudged Tony’s shoulder, “hey Tones, we’re here. You can’t sleep in the car forever, your neck'll get stiff.” 

Tony groaned, “That just happens to old people like you, my neck is never stiff.” 

Rhodey laughed, heartily and genuinely. “Just you wait.” He said, shaking his head. 

As Peter watched the interaction play out, a warm sensation filled his chest. Tony and Rhodey’s dynamic hadn’t changed at all in the 31 years since Peter had gotten to know them in his time. Their friendship had weathered the test of time, even though they as people had undoubtedly changed over the years. 

Longing also took root inside Peter and he suddenly felt a guttural need to just be home, back where he belonged. Together with Aunt May, Ned, MJ, and his Mr. Stark, and his Colonel Rhodes. He missed them, he missed Pepper, and Happy, and most of all May.

As Rhodey helped Tony get out of the car, their sleep-addled and still drunken brains worked together to try and reach the elevator without falling flat on their faces. Peter stood rooted to the asphalt as he watched their departing backs. He clutched his backpack tightly as a million thoughts of doubt swirled in his head. What if he wasn’t able to get home?

Before he could spiral further, Tony’s too loud voice suddenly echoed in the near empty parking garage. “Why are you just standing there? Go home!”

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to flash a reassured smile, “I can’t really just go home…” Peter wrung his hands restlessly.

An indecipherable look crossed over Tony's face for a brief moment. He stared at Peter with the same searching and unnerving eyes as he had just before he tossed Peter his car key. Peter squirmed under the intense stare, until it was finally broken.

Tony sighed dramatically. His hand went up to pinch his nose in an annoyed gesture. “Don’t just stand there looking like a lost baby deer. If you can’t get home, you can crash at my place for the night. But you’re gone first thing in the morning, capisce?” 

“Aw Tones, I think your heart just grew three sizes.” Rhodey teasingly remarked.

Tony rolled his eyes, “Shut it, Rhodey. It’s only fair since he drove us.” 

Peter stood dumbfounded for a second before he beamed at the pair in front of him. “Understood!” He saluted before jogging towards them.

…

Tony’s apartment was lavishly decorated and on the far end of the apartment was a floor to ceiling window looking out over central Boston. However, the place was also very messy. Different schematics covered every surface, along with complicated equations and half-finished projects. Peter reached out to pick up a stray blueprint of something that looked vaguely like a robot.

“Don’t touch anything!” Tony said sternly, before disappearing into his bedroom. Peter's hand froze just before it could grab the paper, then he straightened his back and mumbled out an apology.

Rhodey didn’t waste any time either, he walked towards the couch almost like a zombie and promptly fell forward onto the plush cushions, passing out in record time. 

Peter felt distinctly out of place in the now quiet apartment, safe for the deep, sleeping breath of the other two occupants. Feeling too wound up to rest, Peter made his way around the place, observing all the paintings that hung on the wall and trying to decipher their meaning before giving up. He bet MJ could’ve told him all about their deep philosophical meaning if she were here, or she would mock their superficiality. 

Passing by a cluttered workbench, an open notebook caught Peter’s eye. Inside were detailed sketches of a very familiar robot. Even though Tony had specifically instructed him not to touch anything, Peter couldn’t help but bring the notebook close to his eyes in wonder. These were the original sketches of Dum-E! 

With renewed vigor, Peter went through all the sketches, equations, blueprints, and schematics he could find of Dum-E and its components. 

Before long, Peter realized that Tony must have encountered some sort of bottleneck in his project. Because the frenzied sketches and formulas tapered off the further he got into the notebook, until they ceased to be completely. 

Peter frowned, looking at the puzzle with bubbling excitement. From what Peter could tell, Tony had been trying to get the robotic arm to finally operate on its own, however Dum-E didn’t properly respond the way it was designed to. 

Guessing that there must be something wrong with how the circuitry worked, Peter flipped a couple pages back in the notebook until he landed on a very daunting looking page. The page was filled top to bottom with extensive boolean algebra and truth tables. Scattered in between lines of boolean algebra were schematics, but because of Tony’s messy style of drawing, Peter could barely tell which wire went where. There were even one or two k-maps mixed into the jumbled mess, attempting to simplify the expressions.

Taking a deep breath to center himself, Peter felt an extreme appreciation for modern-day boolean algebra solvers for doing the heavy-lifting and saving him tons of tedious work. Still, a deep-rooted admiration for Tony flared to life inside of him. Tony was doing this completely from scratch!

When doing things like this by hand, it was incredibly easy to make small mistakes that would end up causing major headaches in the long run. Peter tossed his backpack onto the floor and rolled up his sleeves before he got to work, combing through all the boolean expressions.

It took him hours to finally find the problem. It turns out that Tony had accidentally led the wrong wire through a not-gate, turning a binary 1 into a 0 output. Huffing out a tired sigh, Peter looked out of the large window. The sun had risen in the sky, bathing the apartment in a golden glow and Peter predicted that Tony and Rhodey would wake up very soon. 

Peter forced his heavy limps to stand up when he heard Rhodey stir on the couch in the living room. Peter couldn’t remember the last time he slept, or ate for that matter. He didn’t even want to think about how that was affecting his healing factor. Up until now he had suppressed any thought about his still throbbing head injury, pushing it to the side in favor of searching for ways to get home. Peter's stomach growled in hunger, he ignored it.

Peter could hear Rhodey’s lagging footsteps before he saw him turn the corner to where Peter stood next to Tony’s workbench.

 Rhodey looked immensely tired, his eyes were red and he was rubbing his head soothingly. “Good morning!” Peter said stiltedly, trying for a smile. 

Rhodey froze, seemingly startled for a moment before his brain caught up with him. “Oh right, you drove us home last night, Peter…” Rhodey trailed off, his voice raspy from the previous night.

“Parker!” Peter finished for him.

“Right, Parker.”

A sudden crash was heard from Tony’s bedroom and a moment later Tony came stumbling out from his room. “Rhodey!” Came Tony’s complaining shout. Rhodey just sighed in return, quietly shaking his head. He looked up towards the ceiling, presumably praying for patience from any higher being that would deign to listen. Peter snickered underneath his breath, awaiting the inevitable bickering to ensue.

“This headache is killing me.” He whined.

“What do you expect me to do about it?”

“I don’t know? Call that Chinese take-out place. You know the one with the really good orange chicken. Yeah, I want that. ”

Rhodey just rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead, “call them yourself.”

Peter’s eyes traveled back and forth between the pair, following along silently until Tony noticed him. 

He jumped slightly before asking, “Who are you? Why are you in my apartment?” Then he turned to Rhodey “Rhodey, why is there a child in my apartment?”

“We are literally the same age.” Peter said exasperatedly.

“And you have an attitude!” Tony squinted his eyes at Peter before grimacing. “What happened to you anyways? You look worse than I feel. Have you slept like, at all in the past seven days? ” 

“Tony, this is Peter. He drove us home last night, remember? You allowed him to crash here for the night.” Rhodey tried to explain.

“Well it’s morning now, shoo.” 

Peter felt his mouth go dry. He had come this far already, he couldn’t just give up now. Peter tried desperately to search his mind for ways he could possibly get Tony to allow him to stay longer. Suddenly, his mind flashed to Dum-E and the quick fixes he made to its logic. 

“I saw that robot you were working on in your notebook.” He started nervously, but before he could continue Tony interrupted him.

“Did you touch anything?” He said accusingly, moving to check out his notebook on the workbench.

“I didn’t break anything, I promise!” Peter said hastily, trying desperately to get Tony to actually listen to him. 

“I just noticed that something was off with the logic… and, and I was right!” Peter turned to point at a roughly drawn schematic. “Right here,” he tapped his finger against one of the wires drawn on the page, “this is not supposed to go into a not-gate, you’ll get the wrong output. Took me hours to comb through everything just to find this minor flaw.” he finished sheepishly. A heartbeat later he added with admiration lacing his words, “it’s very impressive though, the robot I mean.”

Rhodey squinted at the notebook, “How can you even tell what’s going on? it looks like someone just threw spaghetti on the page.”

Tony was silent for a moment before he spoke, sounding almost stumped, “you’re right… If the signal doesn’t go through a not-gate, the logic works out.”

“Whoa, I think this is the first time you’ve ever been corrected. I never thought I’d live to see the day.” Rhodey flashed Peter a quick smile, “impressive, man!”

Tony scoffed before saying, “this is only a rudimentary prototype design, the final product I have in mind is much more complex. However, I will admit, not just anyone can read my notes and actually follow along. I’ll give you that.”

Peter just beamed in return “Thanks dude!”

“You also go to MIT, Peter?” Rhodey asked.

“No, no… I hope to one day, but not right now.”

“So you’re still in high school? Why not just skip ahead?” Tony probed.

“Someone I know advised against skipping. Besides, I have friends in my year that I’d miss if I left them behind.” 

It was actually Mr. Stark himself that suggested Peter take it slow and just enjoy high school while it lasted. Peter already had so much on his plate and May also wanted him to have a chance at growing up somewhat normally.

Tony hummed in thoughtfulness, “so which high school do you go to then? One here in Boston?”

Peter nervously shifted from one foot to the other, “uh no, actually I’m from New York. I go to a school in Midtown.”

Tony’s brows knit together, “New York? Then what are you doing here on a random Monday?”

Peter chuckled anxiously “see, the thing is, I don’t actually know that. I was sorta hoping you could lend me a hand in figuring this out.” He tried to explain, carefully picking his words.

Rhodey’s expression changed to carry traces of concern. Meanwhile, Tony looked 

a bit troubled by Peter’s words.

“What do you mean you don’t know, how can you not know? Don’t tell me you were kidnapped here or something.”

“No! No, at least I don’t think so? I don’t really remember.” Peter tried to reassure.

“So you have amnesia, that’s much better.” Tony said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe call your parents, they must be worried about you. Or do you want me to call the police instead?” Rhodey offered responsibly.

“Don’t call the police!” Peter supplied quickly.

“If we can’t call the police then how do you expect us to help you? Why’d you even think us, two random drunk guys, could help you?” Tony said, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. 

Peter let out a frustrated sound before he tried to explain his unfortunate predicament without revealing anything. However, he stumbled over his words. “Because, I know you, but you don’t know me… Yet!” 

“That sounds explicitly stalker-ish. Rhodey, call the police.” Tony said, slightly disturbed.

“No! Wait, listen!” Peter groaned, dragging his hands across his face. Not wanting to lose his connection to this young version of Mr. Stark, Peter threw caution to the wind. “I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I’m from the future. I know the future you.” Peter said, pointing a finger at himself, then at Tony. “And I need your help, specifically.” He added hurriedly.

“Rhodey, be a dear and ask for paramedics as well. My stalker is experiencing a psychotic breakdown.” Tony replied, an ounce more disturbed than before.

Rhodey, to his credit, only looked mildly horrified at the interaction playing out before him. “Are you high?” He asked slowly.

“I’m not high!” Peter replied helplessly, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Feeling particularly wronged, an idea flashed in Peter’s head. Fishing his mask up from the front pocket on his hoodie, Peter made one last-ditch attempt at convincing Tony and Rhodey that he was actually from the future. 

He held the mask out to the other two, “This is Karen,”

“Gosh, he’s totally coo coo. Rhodey, he’s naming inanimate objects!” Tony hissed.

Peter couldn’t help but petulantly think that Tony was kind of a hypocrite for saying that. Considering the plethora of machines he also gave human names. 

Shaking the thought from his head, Peter powered through with determination. “This is a highly advanced A.I. that you made, in the future.” Peter took a deep breath to steady himself. “Karen, introduce yourself, please.” He pleaded with the A.I.

The mask’s lenses flared to life with an iridescent glow as Karen's voice sputtered through the mask's speakers. “Greetings, I am Karen. I am an A.I. assistance created by Tony Stark to help guide Peter Parker in his duties as Spi-”

“Okay Karen, that’s enough” Peter hastily interrupted, not wanting her to reveal too much. Meanwhile, Tony and Rhodey looked rightfully shaken.

“Holy shit, that weird ski-mask just talked.” Rhodey said, dumbfounded.

“I am way too hung-over for this. Give me that.” Tony snatched the mask from his hand. Upon closely inspecting the mask, Tony seemed to grow more and more anxious. The mask really was way too technologically advanced to be anything of the current decade, century even.

“Okay, this is not good. Don’t freak out, please? Because if you freak out, I will freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out. I'm surprisingly mellow for someone trying to digest the fact that Time Travel, of all things, is real.” Tony said defensively. Although, he looked like he was forcing himself to remain calmer than he felt. “So what? You’re like Marty McFly or something?”  Tony gestured to all of Peter, his right hand going in circular motions.

“What? The guy from that really old movie Back to the Future?”

“I saw that movie in the theater last year…” Rhodey’s voice drifted in quietly, an octave higher than usual. Peter grimaced in response. Whoops…

“How far in the future are you from?” Rhodey asked urgently.

“2017…” Peter admitted.

“2017! That’s 3 decades from now!” Rhodey opened his mouth to continue. However, Tony’s sharp voice cut through the air before he could speak.

“Everyone, zip it!” Tony said frustratedly. “I still don’t understand why you bothered to seek us out! Why are we even supposed to help you?!” Tony looked significantly guarded.

Peter was at a loss for words. He had instinctively sought Tony out because Mr. Stark always seemed to know what to do. In the past year, Peter had gotten much closer to Mr. Stark as his mentee, and Peter was used to thinking of Mr. Stark as this immovable rock. 

That isn’t to say Peter wasn’t aware of Mr. Stark's flaws. He was arrogant and stubborn, even closed off at times. He struggled to properly convey his emotions through means other than sarcasm and quick quips, and sometimes he’d spend hours in his lab without sleep or food. Despite all of this, Tony had always stepped up for Peter. At least, ever since their rocky start with the Vulture and Civil War.

In his frenzy to find someone in the past to latch onto, Peter had forgotten that this Mr. Stark, or rather, Tony, was also just 16 years old. 16 years old and unsure. Peter could see it in the tight set of his shoulder, he could even smell it in the expensive alcohol that still clung to this young Tony. A scent that Mr. Stark had shook off long ago.

This was a Mr. Stark that hadn’t yet been hardened by kidnappings and bombings, of aliens and robots set on humanity’s extinction. This wasn't the Mr. Stark who had come face-to-face with his mistakes and made amends with them.

However, this was also a Mr. Stark who was desperate for his father’s approval. A version of Mr. Stark who was consumed by too big shoes to fill and a looming legacy that had to be succeeded. This was Tony, in all his young and insecure glory. Peter could relate, achingly so. 

Softening his demeanor, Peter spoke with honesty, “because, you’re someone I trust.” he said resolutely. “And I know that you’re a good person… Even though you might not think it at times. You are good.”

“You don’t know me. You might know that other future version of me, that better me. But you don’t know me.” Tony defended spitefully.

“That might be true. This is the first time I’ve met you at 16 years old.” Peter conceded. “However, that does not mean that I don't know who you are. At least fundamentally.” Peter continued, he needed to make Tony understand that he wasn’t just what the tabloids made him out to be.

“I admired you even before you became ‘that future you’” Peter said, alluding to Iron Man, even though he couldn’t quite explain his point. “You’re one of the most brilliant inventors of our time, might even be ever.” He said, letting all his fan-boy energy consume him. “And I know that you care. You care deeply about other people, even though you try to seem like you don’t.” 

Tony looked suspiciously misty eyed after Peter’s little speech and Peter had the decency to feel a little bashful about his tangent. He tugged at the edge of his sleeve restlessly. Suddenly, Rhodey’s smooth voice broke through the moment, “Peter’s right Tony. I don’t just hang around you for any old reason y’know?” He said teasingly, landing a comforting hand on Tony’s shoulder.

With that final nudge, Tony relented. He blinked harshly a few times, chasing away the glassy sheen from his eyes before he spoke. “Fine, we’ll get you home. It will be a piece of cake. After all, I am the best inventor ever. No take-backs” He said smugly. 

Peter laughed heartily, “I wouldn’t dream of it!”

Suddenly, a wave of relief flooded him. Peter felt his knees buckle from the sheer exhaustion that unexpectedly overwhelmed him. In an instant, all of what Peter had fervently pushed away hit him head-first like a truck. The pain in his head grew worse and his fatigue tripled in force, his empty stomach also clenched painfully. Peter had been running full-throttle on zero fuel for the past day, and the sudden moment of relief resulted in a full-body shut down.

Peter’s vision blurred as he stumbled forward, pivoting towards the floor. But before he could hit the floor, two familiar yet different arms wrapped around him, keeping him upright. The last thing Peter heard before he passed out was Tony’s frantic voice yelling.

“Shit, Rhodey I think he’s bleeding!”

…

When Peter came to, he realized he was laying on something exceedingly soft, tucked under a fluffy blanket. The sun was high in the sky and it prickled his eyes irritably. With a pained groan, Peter tried to sit up. His head felt full of cotton and he wasn’t quite aware of his surroundings. 

“Whoa, careful there McFly.”

A familiar hand pressed down on his chest, forcing him to lay down. Peter tried to blink himself awake, “...Mr. Stark?” he said groggily.

“No, nope. Not doing that. Try again.” The voice responded, somewhat horrified.

Suddenly a rush of memories overwhelmed him and he sat up straight urgently, “Tony!”

Tony scowled, “what did I just say about being careful?”

“Sorry!” Peter said sheepishly.

Peter brought his hand up to feel his head wound, but before he could make contact, Tony batted his hand away.

“Let it be.”

Feeling properly chastised, Peter shot Tony an apologetic look and let his hand fall limp on his lap. Peter looked up at Tony, standing beside the couch. He looked haggard and a trace of worry laced his features. Peter realized that Tony too must be running low on steam, considering his late night partying and the heavy revelation on top of that. Peter distantly wondered if Tony had eaten anything yet. 

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to spring this on you.” Peter said guiltily, gripping the thick blanket in a white-knuckeled hold.

Tony sighed, “just don’t do it again. If you’re injured, tell us before you take a nose-dive to my floor. ”

Peter nodded numbly in reply. After a beat of silence, Tony spoke again.

“We talked to Karen since we figured she would know what to do. She said your blood-sugar levels were dangerously low so I sent Rhodey out to fetch some take-out. I hope you like Chinese.”

Embarrassingly, Peter’s stomach growled loudly at the mention of food. Tony only smirked amusedly, “Good to know.” He said.

As if on cue, the front door opened with a smooth click and Rhodey’s voice echoed through the apartment.

“I got the take-out!”

“You’re a real hero Rhodey! Just put it down on the coffee-table right here and we’ll chow down, yeah?” Tony replied.

Rhodey walked into the living room carrying two white plastic bags filled with styrofoam containers. He set them down carefully on the coffee-table opposite Peter and began to ruffle through the bag. The plastic crinkled with every light motion and the styrofoam containers groaned shrilly as they scraped against each other when Rhodey removed them from the bags. Peter winced at the sharp noises.

But Peter soon forgot the displeasure when two containers were placed in front of him. One had orange chicken and rice, while the other was massively overstuffed with fried noodles and vegetables. Peter hesitated only once, stealing a glance at Tony who only gestured for him to eat what was placed in front of him. With the clear go-ahead, Peter ate with the kind of ravenous ferocity only seen in men on the brink of starvation. 

“Damn, calm down kid! Don’t choke, the food isn’t going anywhere.” Rhodey commented.

Peter only hummed out a vague sound of acquiescence in between bites of food. 

“That was a gnarly wound on the back of your head though. Are you sure you’re alright? How did you even get that?” Rhodey asked carefully.

Peter paused, chewing his food thoughtfully before swallowing decisively. He said somewhat apologetically “I don’t really remember…” Carefully choosing his words, Peter continued. “I might’ve been fighting someone, but I’m not too sure…”

“You? fighting?” Tony looked him up and down with a teasing smile, “what? A squirrel?”

Rhodey lightly punched Tony’s shoulder as a reprimand. However, Peter only laughed along with the jab. He used to be bothered by his seemingly scrawny build. However, many people tend to underestimate him because of it, naturally giving him an upper hand at the beginning of most fights. 

“Nah man, It’s all lean muscle under this hoodie!” He playfully retorted.

“Sure,” said Tony, patting his shoulder in mock reassurance.

Shaking his head in amusement, Peter spoke, “anyways, thanks for the food, it really means a lot. Now that I’ve got some actual fuel in me, this little wound will be healed up in no time!”

“It’s no problem.” Tony shrugged easily. “But, if you consider that a ‘little wound’” He said, making air-quotations with his hands. “Then I don’t want to know what a major wound is. Scratch that, I don’t even want to know what a medium sized wound is to you!”

Peter laughed cheekily in response. Tony had a lot in store for the future.

With his body properly fueled and rested it wouldn’t be long before his healing factor got to work stitching him up. In fact, Peter could already feel the telltale signs of skin knitting itself back together at the back of his head. 

Heaving a relieved sight, Peter tossed the blanket off him and went to pick up his discarded backpack by Tony’s workbench. Rummaging through it, Peter pulled out the glowing purple rock. As he made his way back, he said with a note of seriousness lacing his words, “it’s time to get to work.” 

Peter sat back down on the couch and carefully set the stone down on the coffee-table. He also snatched his mask back from the corner of the coffee-table, where it lay forgotten. 

“Karen, pull up the theory-folder please.”

The mask’s lenses flickered to life, displaying a blue holographic screen floating in front of the trio. The screen featured data Karen had collected by scanning the stone, as well as Peter’s own deductions. In addition, the footage Karen had managed to salvage also played on repeat in the corner of the screen. However, due to the terrible audio, Karen had thankfully muted the video.

For a moment, Peter stared as if he was transfixed by the video. He watched the Iron Man suit soar by his view on loop. Rationally, he knew Mr. Stark must be fine. A simple tech interference wouldn’t do a sufficient amount of damage to keep him down for long. Still, Peter couldn’t shake the visceral need to check up on the man. To confirm that he was fine. 

Rhodey’s voice broke him out of his trance.

“Whoa, you got holographic screens as well? Damn that’s cool.”

“Duh, of course the time traveler has holographic screens. Have you watched zero sci-fi movies? Get with the program Rhodey.” Tony taunted.

Rhodey only rolled his eyes in response.

Before Tony and Rhodey could notice the video, Peter swiped his hand over the footage. In one sleek motion, the video slid away before fading out entirely. 

Tony squinted at the title, “what’s this ‘Souped Up Alien EMP’ thingy?”  

Peter froze when he heard that particular word uttered from Tony's mouth, Alien. He had acted before thinking and had accidentally revealed something pivotal to Tony’s future.

To Peter, the existence of aliens was never something to doubt, considering his early childhood affection towards the science-fiction genre. Besides, by the time Peter was old enough to begin leaving the previously thought to be fantasy behind, the aliens themselves had come knocking on earth's door. Armed with weaponry far more advanced than what any military had stored in their arsenal.

He deliberated over explaining the truth behind the extraterrestrial object or lying. He thought of maybe even deflecting or playing the title as a joke. Confirming the existence of life beyond earth could potentially tamper with the timeline. Peter knew too little of how time travel works to take the risk, but before he could even attempt to gracelessly pivot to another subject, Tony spoke.

“You don’t mean actual Aliens, right?” His voice was sarcastic, although Peter heard a hint of restless anxiety break through. To anyone else, it would go unnoticed, but Peter had spent hours around this man's future counterpart. To him, the signs were as clear as day.

Peter bit the inside of his cheek, his resolve to lie was quickly crumbling under Tony’s slight wavering. Hence, Peter settled for weakly saying, “I can’t really risk telling you anything about the future.”

“So aliens are real!?” Rhodey chimed in, astonishment coating his voice.

Tony took a few deep breaths before replying, “Well that’s just fantastic.” He dragged his hands across his face, stopping only to harshly rub his eyes. “Between this and time travel I don’t know what's crazier.”

“I mean, objectively time travel is crazier” Peter mumbled.

Tony shot him a glare in return. He sighed before sarcastically saying, “just don’t tell me it’s the face-attachning kind of alien that lays eggs in your chest.”

“Facehuggers? What, no!?... At least I don’t think so?” Peter realized he didn’t actually know a whole lot about aliens aside from the Chitauri.

“I’m gonna pretend that you didn’t just say that.” Tony said. Meanwhile, Rhodey looked at Peter with disturbed eyes.

“Look, it doesn’t really matter!” Peter said, waving his arms in the air as if to physically push the subject away. “The stone is of extraterrestrial origin, yes. But that isn’t really important right now. What’s important is figuring out a way to get me back home." He said decisively. 

“Before I got sent here, this thing was messing with my tech, I’m sure of it. Then it just, I don’t know, went off. And if this thing is what sent me here, then it must be able to get me back.” Peter explained.

“Hold up.” Tony said, making a ‘time-out’ symbol with his arms. “I thought you said you didn’t remember anything from before you woke up here.” Tony eyed him suspiciously. 

“Karen had it recorded.” Peter replied smoothly. Although he couldn’t outright lie to Tony, he could still avoid and deflect. half-truths he could do. He had to, because Peter refused to open the can of worms shaped suspiciously like superheroes.

Telling the other two about his mistaken time travel might have been inevitable. The fact that aliens exist could have been avoided, but it’s not as detrimental as telling Tony about his future questionable career choices.

“And why haven’t we seen this recording yet?” Rhodey intoned.

“The footage is fragmented, it’s corrupted by whatever this thing did to my tech.”

“That’s convenient.” Tony said flatly.

Peter was starting to get tired of this cat and mouse game for Tony’s trust. One second it seemed to be within reach, just for Peter to marginally slip up and lose his footing. And this time, he seemed to be losing Rhodey too. 

Peter could understand their distrust of him. He was a strange kid who bulldozed into their lives, talking about time travel and alien technology. He insisted that they help him because of his supposed future connection to them. Therefore, Peter understands why they would so readily jump to question him. However, that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

“I understand that it’s hard to trust me. But believe me, everything I have told you has been the truth.” Peter sighed heavily before continuing. “I can’t tell you everything I want to. Because I’m scared that it might mess up the future.” He admitted, his eyes momentarily flickered to the floor before meeting Tony’s eyes head on. “Because right now, that’s my responsibility. I need to make sure I don’t mess up anything that comes down the line.” Peter said with determination.

Tony studied him for a second before letting out a sigh of his own. “Show me that.” He said tiredly while moving to inspect the floating holograms of data. 

Peter let the tension he didn’t realise was there bleed out of his muscles, his shoulders sagging in accordance. Quietly, he let out a breathy and earnest “thank you.” He couldn’t quite understand what about himself made him believable to Tony, but he was thankful for it nonetheless. 

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t make me regret it.” Tony said, never taking his eyes off the vibrantly blue screens.

“I won’t!” Peter replied resolutely.

A heartbeat later, Rhodey’s somewhat hesitant voice remarked, “if Tony trusts you, so do I.” He flashed Peter a small smile before soundlessly joining Tony by the hologram.

Peter nodded firmly, he felt a little bit more reassured and a whole lot closer to getting home. Even if he hadn’t completely earned both Tony’s and Rhodey’s trust, he could make due with their tentative faith for now.

The trio quickly fell into a cautious rhythm while working together. After an hour the cautious rhythm had developed into a comfortable rhythm. And after another 30 minutes theories and ideas were flying left and right. If Peter closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was home. He could feel the cool metal workbenches beneath his left hand and the slight burn in his nose from the sterile scent of chemicals and the burning smoke of the soldering irons.

“Maybe we could try to charge it up? Raise the energy-levels a bit?” Rhodey suggested.

Tony lifted the stone, turning it this way and that before knocking it against the table a few times. “I mean sure, but does this thing even conduct electricity?” He hummed absentmindedly.

Suddenly, Tony straightened out his back, a mischievous smirk pulled at his lips. “MIT has a tesla coil.” He said.

“We are not blasting the rock with a million volts of electricity!” Rhodey said incredulously.

“I mean it would be pretty cool…” Peter chipped in.

Tony nodded, “this guy gets it.” 

“No.” Rhodey said firmly. “And you, don’t encourage his bad behavior.” He scolded Peter.

“Fine,” Peter drawled. “Still, Tony asked a pretty good question before. We don’t really know whether this thing is an insulator or not.”

“Well, that’s easy enough for us to figure out. Rhodey, can you be a dear and go get a lightbulb, a battery, and some copper wire? thanks.” Tony waved a hand at Rhodey. “And Peter, there should be a hammer and a packet of nails laying around here somewhere, go fetch them for me.”

“Who do you think I am? Your butler?” Rhodey asked rhetorically. However, contradictory to what he said, Rhodey still got up from where he was seated by the table and made his way deeper into the apartment to search for what Tony requested.

“Thank you Rhodey!” Tony shouted. 

Peter amusedly shook his head as he got up from the couch to also search for what Tony had ordered. As he looked around for a hammer and nail, he thought of the differences between Mr. Stark and Tony.

While Mr. Stark was still very much a diva, he had to admit that this young Tony’s level of brattiness still dwarfed that of his future counterpart. Comparatively, Mr. Stark seemed almost humble. Well, as humble as Tony Stark could get. 

Still, Peter didn’t mind Tony’s pompous nature. Sure, he could be a bit–or maybe a lot–obnoxious at times, but something about Tony’s unapologetic confidence stirred an admiration in Peter. Because there was substance behind Tony’s confidence, a brilliance that Peter had the fortune to take part in.

While in his reverie, Peter absentmindedly picked up a stray hammer that was casually tossed aside on Tony’s workbench, as well as a packet of large nails pushed to the far end of the table. 

When Peter came back to the cluttered coffee-table, Rhodey had already tossed the assortment of items onto the table. And Tony quickly got to work wrapping a strand of copper wire around each end of the battery as well as connecting the lightbulb to the circuit.

“If we just make a simple circuit by connecting all of these things in a series with the copper thread, we should be able to tell if this thing is an insulator or not. If the lightbulb lights up it can conduct electricity normally. If it doesn’t, then the plan is kaput.” Tony easily explained while Peter and Rhodey nodded along understandingly.

“Now which one of you is going to hold the rock while I hammer the nails into it?” Tony asked. Although he posed the question, Tony heavily insinuated for Rhodey to be the one to hold the stone by tilting his head towards the other boy..

However, Peter raised his hand voluntarily. With his super-strength and stickiness, Peter could easily hold the rock steady while Tony hammered the nails into it. Predictably, Tony cast him a blatantly dubious look. At the same time, Rhodey tried to hide his doubting look a bit more surreptitiously.

“Oh c’mon guys, give me a chance!” Peter whined irritably. He took the rock from off the table and held it out for Tony as he gestured for the other to start hammering. 

“Okay, but don’t blame me if you lose your grip and I end up hammering you instead.” Tony warned as he picked up a nail and the hammer. 

“Sure.” He agreed without complaint. “Also,” he said, turning towards his Spider-Man mask, “Karen, keep tabs on the stone throughout this entire process, please.”

“Understood.” Came her mechanical reply.

The stone had an almost crystal like texture, making it somewhat slippery. Therefore it would undoubtedly be harder to wrap the wire directly onto it, hence why Tony had even insisted on the nails in the first place. It would certainly be easier to wrap the wire around the nail–just beneath the head– rather than directly onto the stone, Peter realised. 

Making his hands stick to the rock, Peter braced himself for Tony to strike the nail he was carefully balancing on the top of the stone. From his side, Peter could feel Rhodey’s eyes on him, the other looked seconds away from stepping in and offering to do it himself. However, before he could get the chance, Tony slammed the hammer down forcefully.

Peter’s hand didn’t budge an inch as the nail was pushed down into the stone. However, the rock splintered and cracked around the nail, sending small fissures down the length of the stone. 

Upon contact, miniscule pieces of what seemed like purple glass were also sent flying out from beneath the hammer’s head. For just a second, the stone seemed to glow in response to the strike. However, the effect vanished so quickly that Peter wrote it off as a trick of the eye. Still, the nail was firmly embedded into the strange rock.

Tony whistled, “Well color me surprised.” He said.

“You really weren't lying when you said it was all muscle under that hoodie!” Rhodey said as he gave Peter a couple of sturdy pats on the back.

Peter shrugged, “I mean I hate to say ‘I told you so’.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “no you don’t.”

Peter laughed in return, “maybe so.” 

He flipped the stone into the air, watching it spin rapidly for a second before it descended again. Then, he effortlessly caught it with the newly embedded nail facing downwards. Peter held out the rock to Tony, displaying the free space for Tony to hammer another nail into.

Tony raised an unimpressed brow in response, as if to say ‘really’. “Now you’re just showing off.” He said.

A Cheshire cat grin creeped onto Peter’s face, “can you blame me?” He asked, seemingly innocently.

Rhodey chortled, “he got you there Tones!”

Tony frowned, “yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s just get this over with.” 

Tony picked up another nail. He carefully stuck it into a small groove on the rock’s surface before hitting the nail hard on its head with the hammer. At the same time, Peter observed the rock intently.

As before, the rock splintered and cracked when faced with the blunt force of the hammer. However, just as it must have done earlier, the stone emitted a dull purple light. But before Peter could ponder the implications of the stones reaction to force, Tony snatched the rock out of his hands.

“I don’t like how brittle this thing is. It probably means it won’t conduct electricity well, if at all.” Tony said, his browns knitting together.

Peter grimaced, “yeah, you got a point there.”

“Let’s just test and see, just in case.” Rhodey chimed in hopefully.

“Then it’s time to hook it up to the circuit.” Tony said as he started wrapping the stray ends of the copper wire around each nail. One nail connecting to the wire wrapped around the battery’s positive pole, while the other connected to the battery’s negative pole.

Disappointingly, when the circuit was complete the lightbulb remained staunchly off.  

Tony frowned, “so much for that.”

“Yep, seems like we’re back to square one.” Rhodey sighed.

Suddenly, Peter remembered the dim light the stone emitted upon contact with the hammer.

“Hey Karen, did you record any irregularities while we were messing with the rock?” Peter asked.

Peter’s field of view instantly lit up with a graph showing two distinct spikes in activity when the stone was exposed to excessive force.

“Huh,” Tony voiced, noncommittally. 

“Got any ideas?” Peter asked.

Unexpectedly, Tony countered with his own question. “You said this thing just went off, right? Before you woke up here."

“Yeah? I mean I don't really remember it but I assume so at least, based on the recording.” 

“Okay, so what if we just recreate the scenario? I mean if we look here,” Tony pointed to the graph. “You can see the stone's activity levels. See how much it spiked when put under just a little bit of pressure. Well, what if we just try to force a reaction from the stone?”

“So, let me get this straight. Your grand plan is to just whack the space rock until it explodes?” Rhodey deadpanned. 

Tony shrugged, unbothered by the crude phrasing.

“Actually… It’s not a bad idea.” Peter said, cautiously optimistic. 

Rhodey’s head whipped around to stare at Peter. “Are you actually insane?”

Peter winced. “No, but we don’t really have any better ideas at the moment.”

“MIT has some industrial hydraulic presses that reach up to 1000 tons of pressure. You think that’s enough?” Tony said excitedly.

Rhodey rested his head in his hands. “You guys actually have a death wish.” 

Peter snickered, “Karen, what’s your verdict on the situation?”

“I calculated a 71% chance of success. Although the chosen plan does present some risks, my calculations predict a non-lethal threat level should the core explode. However, some injury must be taken into account”

"’Non-lethal’, see Rhodey, you were just being dramatic.” Tony stood up and performatively wiped the non-existent dust off his pants. He spread his arms out in a wide gesture “Are we set?”

Rhodey looked hesitant, meanwhile Peter contemplated. The odds weren’t bad per se, a bit risky but still manageable. Nonetheless, his stomach was twisting in knots at the prospect of placing the other two in any danger. Peter's mind involuntarily flashed to his decathlon team's trip to Washington, to how the Chitauri core had exploded in the elevator, to how close he’d come to losing one of his friends. 

Of course the situations were widely different. The stone wasn’t a Chitauri Energy Core, despite the similarities plaguing Peter’s mind. This would also be an intentionally forced reaction. They would utilize real lab equipment and they could exercise caution that the previous situation didn’t allow for. The plan would be executed in a controlled environment.

Steeling himself, Peter rose from his seated position. “Okay, but you two have to stay far away from the rock, alright? I don’t want you two to get caught in the blast.”

“Yeah alright, stay away from the alien bomb. Got it” Tony rolled his eyes.

“So, we’re really doing this?”

“Yes, Honeybear, we’re doing this.” Tony cast a quick glance out the window and then shifted his gaze towards his watch. “MIT closes soon so we’re gonna have to hurry if you wanna get home in time for dinner Mcfly. C’mon let’s get to the car, I’m driving.”

…

The drive to MIT had Peter clutching the seatbelt in terror as Tony sped down the open road towards MIT. 

Suddenly, Tony’s voice piped up from the front seat. “I’ve been meaning to ask what the luchador mask is about. Or is it just for aesthetic purposes only?”

Peter felt his palms start to sweat uncontrollably, he absolutely could not reveal anything even remotely related to superheroes. Therefore, he said with a shaky voice, “yeah, I’m just really into wrestling.” 

Tony cast him a glance in the rearview mirror. “Neat.” He said.

…

Tony parked the car equally as atrociously as last night, then he got out of the car before slamming the door loudly behind him. Rhodey followed suit after, calmly opening the door before getting out to follow Tony towards the labs.

Peter got out lastly with his backpack in tow, he gripped his chest tightly as he heaved a few times. He was grateful that most of the time when Mr. Stark needed to get anywhere, Happy drove him there instead.

He quickly trailed after the other two, trying to compose himself as he caught up to them. The MIT campus was mostly abandoned by the time they got there, only a few stragglers still milled about the university grounds. Peter felt strangely comforted by that fact, as if he was doing something he shouldn’t and the fewer witnesses the better.

When they neared the labs, Peter couldn’t help the childish excitement that bubbled up inside him at the chance of seeing MIT’s old laboratories. Like everything else, the school had a retro quality to it that made every nook and cranny that much more interesting to Peter.

When they entered the labs, Peter breath caught in his throat as he took in his surroundings. Sure, it wasn’t nearly as high-tech as what Peter was used to, but the lab had its own charm to it. Which was further propagated by the copious amounts of papers and hand written calculations that were mostly handled digitally in Peter's time.

To his left, Tony snorted amusedly. “He’s like a kid in a candy store.” He feigned whispering to Rhodey, exaggeratedly bringing his hand up to his face to cover his mouth.

Rhodey laughed in return as he shot Peter an entertained smile.

“Hey, I can’t help it, I’ve never seen tech this…” He tried to find the right word. “Clunky.” Peter teased.

“Clunky!” Tony parroted. “This is a state-of-the-art lab I’ll have you know!”

Peter laughed, “No offense, dude! It’s charming!”

Before Tony could retort, Rhodey shook his head. “Alright, alright you two, don’t get your panties in a twist. Let’s do what we came here to do.”

As Rhodey went to prepare the equipment, Tony sidled up beside Peter.

“Are you excited to get back home?” 

“Yeah definitely. I miss a lot of people already, so I really hope this works.”

Tony seemed strangely nervous beside Peter, he shifted from one foot to the other almost imperceptibly. 

After a beat of silence he asked, “...How do we know each other in the future?”

Peter was caught off guard by the question. He couldn’t tell the truth, that he knew Mr. Stark through being Spider-Man. Yet, even that seemed to fall short of explaining how he knew Mr. Stark. They weren’t just Spider-Man and Iron Man, at least not anymore. Since Peter had gotten to know Mr. Stark, he had become another constant in Peter's life. As steady as May and as reliable as Ned. 

Peter had never really said it aloud for the other man to hear, but Mr. Stark had filled a spot in his head that had remained blank since the death of his parents. A spot he hadn’t realized was empty, since he had always had May there to make up for the loss he suffered as a child.

He had provided Peter with guidance, and as shaky as it was, Peter still appreciated the effort immensely. So he settled for saying, “well, you’re like my mentor I guess. You’re reliable and I trust you, I want you to know that.”

Tony was silent for a moment before he said “You guess? Peter, tell me honestly, are you my so-” But before he could finish his sentence, Rhodey hollered from the other side of the lab.

“Everything is ready now, we just need to get behind the protective glass while Peter stays here!”

Peter hadn’t quite caught the tail-end of what Tony wanted to ask him. Nevertheless, he turned towards the other boy. “Look, I can’t tell you anything about the future. I won’t risk it, but you’ll find me in the future so don’t try to search me up okay?” He said firmly. “You’ll get to know me when you need me.” He smiled at Tony.

“And thank you, for everything.” It was hard not to just spill everything. Not to warn Tony about the future, to at least try to keep him safe. But Peter knew he couldn’t, time was fickle, and tampering with it could result in outcomes much worse than the tentatively peaceful time he lived in. 

But just as he turned to leave, a clear voice rang out behind him. “No, thank you.” Peter whipped his head around to stare at Tony. “For what you said about me earlier, people don’t tend to look past the tabloids.”

Before Peter could regret it, he moved towards the other boy and pulled him into a tight and grounding hug. He could feel Tony's arms hesitantly wrap around his back. “I’ll see you soon.” Peter said around the lump in his throat.

For just a second, Peter almost caved. Warnings sat at the tip of his tongue, everything from Stane to corruption, from the arc reactor to Afghanistan, from Loki to the Accords. But before he could get any words out, Tony’s strained voice sounded clearly in his ears.

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon too Peter”

Hardening his resolve, Peter let go. He gave Tony one last meaningful glance before he turned around to walk towards where Rhodey was checking over the hydraulic press one last time. 

“All set?”

“Yep” Rhodey turned away from the hydraulic press to face Peter. He put a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder before saying, “stay safe alright, if something goes wrong, press that button” He pointed to a big red emergency stop button near the press. 

“Thank you Rhodey, I’m really grateful for yours and Tony’s help” Peter said, giving a small and sincere smile.

Rhodey’s hand slid off his shoulder as he grinned at Peter “thank us when you get home.”

“I will!” Peter easily agreed, letting out a quiet chuckle.

As Rhodey moved towards the door to get behind the safety glass with Tony, Peter pulled the stone out of his backpack. He carefully placed it on the metal stand, right beneath the press. After shooting Rhodey a quick thumbs up, the hydraulic press started moving downwards with a satisfying hiss.

Behind the glass, the other two seemed nervous. Rhodey gripped the control panel, while Tony kept his eyes glued to the press, waiting for it to make contact with the stone. Peter could hear the slight uptick in their heartbeats and the forced calm of their breathing. Peter himself took a steadying breath as he watched the metal slowly press down on the purple rock.

During the first few seconds of contact not much happened. However, eventually the stone started to glow harsher from within. The air around Peter felt heavier than before and his Spider-Sense pulsed at the back of his head. Not yet a warning but rather an indication, something was about to happen. Peter hoped that something would bring him home. 

Suddenly the stone’s purple glow sharpened and the air began to crack with tension as small lines of lightning flashed from the stone. An abrupt wind tore through the laboratory, whipping Peter's hood over his head. Peter felt almost weak under the sheer force the stone exuded upon its surroundings.

From the corner of his eye, Peter could see Tony move towards the door. Not wanting to place him in any danger, Peter immediately fired a web at the door, effectively sealing it shut. He could hear Tony’s muffled voice from behind the glass.

“Rhodey, we gotta get him out of there!” He tried to push open the door, but to no avail.  “I can’t get this thing open!”

“Shit…” Rhodey cursed lowly before moving towards a mic by the panel, Peter heard his voice crackle through the speakers dotted around the lab. “Peter! Push the emergency button! If that thing goes off you might not make it, the stone is way more dangerous than we thought!”  

Peter didn’t move from where he stood rooted next to the press. His Spider-Sense flared at his neck. Yet, Peter didn’t feel scared, his anticipation only grew. He tried hard to convey reassurance by smiling at the panicking pair behind the glass. 

Tony’s voice roared through the speakers, “Peter! Push the button!” He looked at Peter through the glass, his eyes filled with fear and worry. Belatedly, he added “please…”

Peter shook his head. Loudly, he tried to tell Tony through the reinforced glass, “I’ll be fine! Don’t worry!”

“No, just push the button goddamnit!”

Peter couldn’t explain to Tony how he knew he would be fine. He couldn’t explain the biological warning system engraved upon his nervous system. The primal instinct that told him that no threat could be detected, so he settled for shaking his head.

A moment later the tension in the room snapped and with a resoundingly sharp clang, a crack formed on the purple stone. The speakers jittered as the stone exploded outwards in a purple cloud, engulfing the entire lab. The safety glass splintered in cobweb like structures, as lab tools and equipment fell to the ground in metallic clangs, echoing across the room.

When the purple dust had settled across the lab’s floor, Tony broke through the door leading into the lab. He tried frantically to search for Peter in the ruined laboratory. Yet, all that was left was a burnt scorch mark on the floor where Peter previously stood. No Peter or stone in sight.

…

Peter woke up to the sounds of honking cars and irritated commuters on their way to work. And the uneven asphalt beneath him provided no comfort as he moved to sit up. 

Peter felt a distinct sense of déjà-vu as he stretched his sore limbs. He was in an ally again. Although, this time he thankfully lacked the sharp throb at the back of his head. 

By the mouth of the alley, a million sharp pieces of what looked like purple glass was strewn about the ground. Peter winced, that was totally a safety-hazard. 

As Peter looked towards the street, a familiar yellow taxi moved lethargically forward in the densely packed traffic. Instantly, Peter knew this was New York City, no doubt. 

Quickly, he rummaged through his backpack to pull out his mask Karen hummed to life within seconds. 

“Karen, can you get a hold of Mr. Stark?” He asked restlessly.

Karen's robotic voice echoed in the empty alley a second later. "Re-establishing connection with FRIDAY. Calling ‘Mr. Stark’”

“Yes!” Peter let out a cheer, he was home.

Mr. Stark picked up within the first ring, “Peter?” his strained voice sounded through the speakers, and Peter’s heart instantly filled with relief.

“Yeah, It’s me! But firstly, I need to know if you are okay.” Peter could finally ask the question that had been plaguing his mind ever since he woke up in the past.

“Am I okay? Peter you’ve been gone for over a day! I’m the one who should be asking that question. I’ve been worried sick, not to mention May!” His voice sounded tired, as if he hadn’t slept since Peter last saw him.

“You didn’t answer the question…”

“Jesus kid, I’m fine! Now, where the hell are you?! Any injuries?”

“No injuries, or well, it’s healed by now. And I’m in Queens I think, I recognize that bodega over there. I’ll swing by the tower, just give me a minute."

“No, you stay put. FRIDAY has already tracked your location, I’m coming.”

“Fine,” Peter conceded easily, slumping down against the brick wall that lined the alley. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He would never say it but he had missed the fussing, just a little bit.

“Stay on the line.”

"Alright, but in the time it takes you to get here, I can tell you about the absolutely crazy experience I just had. I mean you won’t believe what just happened!"