Work Text:
2021
“Cast a new spell, only this time, make everyone forget who Peter Parker is. Make everyone forget… me.”
“Are you sure?”
“If I do this, then..everyone will come back, right?”
“Yes, but—“
“Then do it. I don’t care what happens to me. Do it.”
5 years later
Tony
FRIDAY tells Tony Rhodes is entering the room before he even hears the door open.
The tweezers have annoyingly gotten attached to the sticky webbing, much too sticky to be extendable, highlighting just another one of his failures.
“Jesus, Tony. You’re still on this?”
“Jesus, Rhodey. You’re still here?”
Rhodes gives an empty laugh, “Very funny." Rhodes circles behind him and leans in close, examining the workspace. "Webs, huh?" Tony nods, flicking the edge of his microscopic glasses off to examine the stringy web. "Yep."
"You've been on this forever man, when are you gonna give up?”
“Mm. How about never?”
“I mean, you’ve been at it for days, Tony. Just admit you can’t replicate the webs..”
Tony laughs outrageously, “Can’t? Not in my dictionary, hon. I will figure out how to—shit!”
When Tony flicks his hand downward in expression, the tweezers snag the strand, and the web snaps under the tension. It recoils in a violent spray of synthetic fluid that splatters outward in every direction. It paints the work desk a stringy white, speckles the ceiling, and completely covers the lenses of his glasses in a thick coat.
"Huh. Now see I don't usually eat my words that fast.”
Rhodes laughs, reaching to peel synthetic fluid off himself. Tony sighs and peels his glasses off his face, wiping them on his shirt, movement sluggish.
“Seriously. Why don’t you quit that and come out with us? There’s the event, and then after...We are all having dinner, you know you’re always invited, Tony.”
Tony exhales, “Yeah. And you’re the messenger again, I presume?”
Rhodes nods his head, “Because I’m the only one they’ll trust you won’t kill or seriously injure upon sight. And also, it's your penthouse, so..”
Tony laughs, “Hah!” He presses the shirt against his glasses.
It’s futile, obviously. He needs bleach or clorox or some shit to get it off.
“We all mean it though, Tony. We want you back. It’s not the same. It’s the og's party. You know what I'm saying? We want to have you there.”
“Party or political party?”
Rhodes smirks, “Funny. You know it’s gotta be televised. But they don’t know about what’s after.”
Tony shakes his head, “With all the big guys and their cameras? Nope. Nuh-uh. I’ve retired. I’m out of the big leagues now. Tell cap I said hi, though. And best wishes to Nat and Bruce.”
“We are all out of the big leagues, Tony. It’s a reunion party. With maybe a couple reporters.”
“Like I said, there’s no way in hell I’m subjecting myself to that.”
“Well I’m not gonna give you your wishes. Not when you can get on one of those expensive ass suits of yours, mess with your hair a bit, and show the hell up.”
Tony sighs, a heavy, reluctant sound, and speaks with deadpan finality, “I’ll see you later, Rhodey.”
Rhodey cocks his head, “Is that a promise? Because you have about three hours, give or take.”
“No, it’s not a promise. And if you say one more thing I'm revoking the statement entirely."
And Rhodes doesn’t say anything more, a big smile etching his features as he turns around exits the room. The door chimes closed behind him, Tony inhales deeply, putting his head in his hands.
“That went considerably better than last time.” FRIDAY speaks, and Tony huffs, “Yeah.”
The last time Rhodey pushed Tony to attend an Avengers gathering, it ended in a screaming match. Tony swore he wanted nothing to do with anyone; Rhodey accused him of hiding behind his usual immature, prickly defense mechanisms.
Tony took deep offense to that last point. With a single word to FRIDAY, he had Rhodey locked out of the office entirely. For forty-eight hours. No exceptions.
With his phone inside, too.
Though less than thirty-two hours later they had apologized and managed to talk like proper human beings again, and every subsequent invitation still twists Tony’s heart inside out.
The memory is unpleasant, so Tony shakes his head. It doesn’t matter now. He has agreed to attend this Avengers reunion jumbo, and there’s no going back.
He refocuses on the intricate artificial webbing stretched across his workbench. It was almost perfect. Almost.
But it’s too sticky, and nowhere near malleable enough.
Something is different. But what could it be? Spiderman. Spiderman. Why are these webs driving him so insane? Why does he have this infatuation?
It’s because he needs to know everything, of course.
Because there’s something off with his formula.
Surely that’s why he’s so on edge.
It’s not like theres something there. Something he just can’t reach.
“FRIDAY, how much time til I have to get ready?”
“Around thirty-five minutes would be ideal, Tony.”
“Alright.” Tony wipes away the now warm slushy web fluid from his desk with a clorox, and lets the mechanical arms guide him through rebuilding it.
“Small potato stuff, right?”
🕷
The music from the main ballroom was equal parts suffocating and atrocious. There’s nothing Tony hates more than mock fancy. This whole avengers reunion gala was somehow sponsored by stark industries. And he had to admit, it made sense. It was an huge event. And it was done beautifully. Pepper planned it, not him.
It was a lavish, press-heavy affair. Originally, before it was labeled an avenger reunion, it was really supposed to be a celebration of the latest wave of clean energy initiatives. But of course, it turned out to be so much more than that.
Tony thinks he’s shaken enough hands to make himself physically ill for the next two months. And taken enough excruciating pictures with his old friends.
Pepper soothed him every so often. Which was actually every moment, with a small rub of his back, or a lean on his shoulder. A small slight of affection did wonders for his anxiety. And she knew that.
The whole thing was going wonderfully though, in the eyes of the press.
And...
About halfway through, when wine glasses were being refilled, someone swung through the window.
Immediately there was a round of applause at Spiderman’s appearance.
“And would you look at that, the world’s most reclusive superhero has made his appearance!” Some no-name reporter Tony doesn’t recognize announces.
Tony only dives further into his mojito.
Immediately, Spiderman starts to wave.
“Hey everybody.”
Randos approach and demand conversation.
“Hello! Yeah, how are you?”
He’s politely shaking a whole lot of hands and to Tony’s surprise, seems unbothered by it all. Relaxed during it, even.
He’s coughing it up to be a young person thing and almost choked on his crème brûlée at what he sees next.
Steve Rogers appears almost out of nowhere and goes on ahead and claps him on the back, “Glad you could make it, Spidey.”
“As am I, captain. Thanks for the invite.”
Rhodey comes up behind Tony, “Well would you look at that. This is your chance to ask about the webs.”
But the lights in the room are far too fluorescent, and the voices are chattering all too loud, and it’s all scrambling together in his far-too sober brain.
Something strange crawls up Tony’s throat. He thinks he might be sick. Yet he watches the interaction and feels drawn to this whole situation.
“Maybe so.” Tony averts his eyes away from the scene.
Rhodes takes a seat next to him and the two begin a casual conversation as Tony gets two more drinks of a tray from a random server passing by.
About half an hour later, Spiderman has made his greetings across the majority of the rest of the original avengers, and somehow managed to slip out of event undetected. Without any word. Maybe he'll be back. Tony kinda wishes he knew where to call him, to ask about those webs. It’s strange how unfamiliar they all seem, even though they’ve been working together for almost seven years now.
“It’s just. It’s like there’s something missing. Don’t you feel it, Rhodey?” Tony gestures big.
Rhodey hums, “I don’t know, Tony. Feels pretty alright to me.”
Tony sighs, exasperated, “And not to mention Spidey, I mean, am I the only one who thinks it’s weird that we have no idea who this guy is?”
“You’re not the only one, Tony. I can promise you that.” Steve sighs from behind his glass.
Tony turns his body around, a hand on his chest as if he’s been startled, “Okay, you really need to stop doing that.”
Steve chuckles, already sliding into his seat next to him on the bar. And then Bruce slides into the seat next to Rhodey so they are all sitting across from each other.
“I just wanna know what’s up with him, man. I’m still really curious as to how the whole spider thing works.” Bruce says with a shrug.
“It’s been years and we haven’t gotten any smidge of information from him whatsoever. And he shows up everywhere in a mask.”
“Though I am envious. If I could be anonymous, I’d do it.”
Tony sips the last of his drink and gags softly, “Seriously, who puts an olive in a mojito?”
Rhodey shrugs and shakes his head.
🕷
Three hours later, it was over.
Not officially, of course.
But the original political heavy night had died down immensely. And the original bass-heavy classical music, was reduced barely audible thump in Tony’s private penthouse lounge downstairs.
Jacket ties were loosened, shoes were kicked off, and everyone was sitting back somewhere. Except Tony. He was sat up straight at the bar, sighing miserably.
“Who’s pouring?” Tony sing-songs, raising his empty glass.
Rhodey creeps in from behind the counter, “Whiskey sour? Extra strong?”
Tony hums happily, “You know me so well, honey!”
Steve snorts from across the room, feet lifted onto a table. He flips his gaze to Bruce. “Any update on Nat?”
Bruce lifts his head up from his phone, “Huh? Yeah. Something in Russia with her sister.”
“Hm. Well, okay.”
“You know what Bruce, I never actually got to say, how are you feeling? After…what was her name, Jane?”
”Yeah, how was that?”
Bruce sighs, “Ah, I mean, I don’t really remember any of it, so. Just glad nobody got hurt.”
”Thanks to Spiderman, though.”
Tony huffs a laugh, “Oh yeah, thanks to Spidey. Will we be expecting him tonight, Capt?”
Steve raises his glass with a shrug, “I sent my invite.”
”Yeah.”
Thor swings once, and lets the dart go flying into the center of the board. He claps his hands together, “Right on! Rhodey, give me three!” Rhodey shakes his head with a laugh, “Yeah. You got it.”
“But Nat, seriously. She's always in Russia.." Tony deadpans, tone teasing. "Still can’t believe I didn’t even get to say hi. You know, that’s the only reason I even came.”
Steve narrows his eyes at him, “Is that so?”
Tony nods, “Oh, that is very so.”
Bruce huffs humorously, “Well sorry to disappoint, Tony.”
“Well, all's well.” Tony says. "The og four avengers, if I may."
Rhodey slides his drink in to replace his empty one with a deadpan look. Tony gives a small thanks and lifts the glass up to his lips with an ironic expression.
“Not my fault we are the only ones who showed. Rhood-ey here promised it would be everybody.”
“Okay, wow.”
“Are we gonna talk about what’s going on with you?” Steve presses, his head turning back, eyebrows furrowed.
“There is nothing going on with me.” Tony insists, pointing one finger in the air as he takes another gulp of his drink.
Immediately, a chorus of disagreements fill the air.
“Come on, man.”
“We all know that’s not true.”
“Why are you lying for?”
“Even I can tell that’s a lie!”
Tony pauses, bewildered, “Come on, what’s with that? Huh? Why are we ganging up on me?”
Bruce stammers, “Well—because there’s clearly something going on, Tony. And I mean—”
“The green man is right, mate.”
Tony rolls his eyes and pleads softly, “Not you too.”
Thor lifts his hands up in mock surrender, “Think you just—you got some stuff you gotta get sorted out, mate.”
“Wow, okay. That’s great. Thanks, thunder god. Big help.”
“You can’t just shut us down every time, man. What’s going on?” Rhodey presses.
Tony sighs deeply, looks at the people looking at him. “I just, I feel like there’s something missing. Don’t you?”
“Everyday, it feels as if there’s something wrong. Like I feel lost."
“What do you mean by lost?” Bruce presses.
“I don't wanna say anything else. I'm drunk." Tony cuts himself off.
"Aw, come on, you can't just stop it there."
"Tony, really?"
"I can and I did stop it there. And I will stop it there so long as I don't have to keep wondering why every time I interact with any of you, it feels like I'm not supposed to."
Tony sets his drink down, "Like the things, that are right, aren't right. That they're something I'm not supposed to be seeing."
“And I can’t put my finger on it. Just the way things are. Every goddamn day feels off, and maybe I'm crazy." He chugs the rest of the drink.
"Tony.."
"So does anyone else feel the same?”
Tony gives it a second before putting his empty glass down again, "You know what? Scratch that-nobody say anything until I'm too drunk to care."
The silence in the room is heavy, and Tony reaches for the scotch.
Rhodey places one hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I can’t understand what you’re feeling Tony. But one thing is for sure. The way things are now? They are that way because they need to be. Because that’s how it’s supposed to be.”
Tony huffs and pours himself another drink.
Steve puts his drink down, “But what if it’s not?”
Rhodey looks over to him. “What do you mean?”
“What if it’s not? I gotta be honest here. I feel the same, Tony. I really do.”
Tony releases a shaky breath.
“And maybe we can’t fix what’s off. But we can sure as hell find out what it is.”
"Smartest thing you've said all week, captain." Tony muses, though he rubs a hand over his beating heart. His palms begin to sweat.
“I’ll help.” Bruce announces, wiping his glasses on a two thousand dollar tie. “There’s one thing I’m good at. Finding a solution.”
“You’re good at a hundred other things, mate!”
“Thanks, Thor.”
There's a small stretch of silence before Bruce hums as if he's realizing something.
"What is it?" Steve asks.
Bruce clears his throat, “It may be nothing.”
Tony perks up, turning his body around to face the man sitting comfortably on the couch, “What is it?”
“Well, I do vaguely remember Nat talking about something similar.”
“Said she felt like she was seeing and experiencing things and it all felt off. Like miscalculated, and something wasn’t right. Like a chunk of her memory had been removed, or replaced or something like that.”
Tony nods, “So me, Cap, and Nat are all feeling this.”
“And that tells me everything I need to—”
The balcony doors slide open with a soft metallic click.
Everyone pauses as the cool night air breezes in, followed by a figure in a tailored dark suit. It looked pristine, expensive even, until eyes drifted upward to reveal a bright red and blue spandex mask. White lensed eyes narrow for a second then widen humorously at the attention.
“Am I interrupting?”
Speaks Spiderman, in all his glory. In a decent-looking suit and tie. Standing in Tony’s penthouse complex.
"Now that’s hilarious." Tony remarks, before bringing his glass up to his lips.
Steve immediately jumps up to intervene, crossing the distance to Spiderman with three long steps, “Not at all. I’m happy you could make it.”
The two immediately shake hands and it’s almost comedic, because Spiderman is literally wearing dress shoes, and the same red spandex is showing through the pant leg, where socks should be. But the suit is clearly new. And Tony didn’t see it on him earlier.
“What in the dress code is happening right now?” Rhodey narrows his eyes in amusement.
Spiderman clears his throat awkwardly and chuckles, raising a gloved hand with the sleeve, “Yeah, was planning on going full suit but it seems a little off for the vibe.”
Tony set down his glass, “Dude, you are wearing a suit with a costume mask. You look like a party city wedding.”
This makes Spiderman laugh out loud, “I guess you’re right huh? But the invite said formal. And from the neck down, I am formal.”
And Tony is nothing but an opportunist, and a little drunk tipsy, so he insists, “Take it off.” He points a finger at his face, and then drops it to his drink once more.
Peter freezes, "Huh?"
"Your mask. Take it off."
Peter
The event was cordial, yet immense. So much so that it was everything. He’s seeing everyone for the first time in what, three years? Since Dr. Strange cast that spell, and brought everyone back, at the low cost of his identity. Of his existence.
“Spiderman!” A reporter Peter can’t recognize acknowledges him with a hand held out. Peter takes it and nods his head and immediately there’s a large camera in his face.
“Wow—okay. Hello.”
“Spiderman how does it feel attending a public avengers event for the first time in four years?” The report asks, shoving the microphone into Peter’s hands. He grabs it firmly.
“Wow. Uh, great question. Well, it feels a little strange…” Understatement of the year. “..a little erratic. But somehow comforting, uh, all at once.” He clears his throat, “I mean, I know these guys.” Yeah. “They know me.” Lies. “We’ve been working together for a while now so it’s always good to gather in one place like this.”
“That’s brilliant Spiderman. That’s brilliant. And this is your first public interview appearance since the battle of Mysterio, making it a little under two years, is that correct?”
Peter feels a little sick.
“Battle of Mysterio? Wow, that’s uh—a name for it.”
“Is that correct, Spiderman?”
“Huh. Yeah. That’s correct.” His voice comes out slightly clipped. He has to remind himself to breathe deeply.
“Wow, and what an amazing day it is today, isn’t that right folks at home? And I just have to ask the one question—now I’m sure everyone at home is wondering too. Will you be unmasking yourself tonight?”
“Ah..” He begins with a nervous chuckle. “Yeah uh..”
“Surely, you saw the rumors? And the speculation? Everybody thinks tonights gonna be the night! Tell me, what’s going on? What’s going on inside that head of yours?”
Sweat starts to bead underneath the mask.
“Yeah, you know. I’m sorry to disappoint everybody, but nah. Just.. Gotta keep it anonymous, you know? That’s the whole deal.”
The reporter gives a mock look of understanding towards him and then the camera, “Well, I know I’m not the only one disappointed. But nevermind that!”
“Now, just another question for you, Spiderman…”
After thirty minutes or so of questioning from various interviewers and numerous photos taken, Peter feels absolutely spent and exhausted.
He manages to slip out of the crowd and to the bathroom, which is sickening white and pristine, nothing like the small bathroom in his apartment. He finds a window and climbs through it, making his way to the roof of the entire plaza. Finally, he takes his mask off.
He stares at it.
He has half a mind to throw it off the roof, but that’d be really bad, and he hadn't brought any items of spare clothing. He steps down a bit and walks around around the back of the roof until he finds the bag he’s hidden.
He unzips it.
..well, except one.
A black, gorgeous suit. One he had gotten from aunt may for prom. Ridiculous expensive and definitely not something they could afford, but she had pulled more extra shifts just to get him something nice to take Liz to prom with.
That name was so incredibly foreign to him now. He wonders how she’s doing briefly, before his mind trails off again.
All this, the suit, just for the little slip white envelope he had received under his glass at his table before the event started.
And Peter, being the spider he was, had obviously scoped the place out before anyone else had arrived. To check for any threats, bombs, or otherwise lethal machinery that may have been hidden beneath the stage. That's when he'd seen it under his glass at the table reserved for him, and him alone.
An invitation to a small after-party gathering of the avengers.
He had never swung home so fast, to try and find something to show them that he wasn't just Spiderman, a random guy in a suit with no etiquette. As if he had something to prove. Which he didn't, by the way.
Definitely not.
He looks at the white envelope in his hand, already torn open. He peels the letter out from inside.
ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀᴍᴀɴ
ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ɢᴀᴛʜᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴꜱᴛᴀɪʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ.
ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ.
ꜱɪɢɴᴇᴅ, ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀꜱ
The handwriting is perfect, and there is no doubt in Peter's mind it was from the hand of Captain America.
Only one thing weighs heavy on his heart.
How could he ever..
..be slipped an invite from Steve to a secret gathering with the other avengers, after sacrificing everything for everyone to forget him and spending all these years alone.
Peter keeps thinking about it.
About the reality he’s living in, how it isn’t the reality he was supposed to be in. How this isn't the way things were supposed to go.
But regret? No. It's never that.
Because for everyone to be alive and well again?
It didn’t matter the cost.
For the spell, he's eternally grateful.
Even though he carries the guilt everyday.
Eyeing the suit in his backpack, he breathes deeply.
“I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t.” He mutters to himself, remembering back to how he felt when he saw them all again for the first time. The way reality changed right before his eyes.
How everything was suddenly different.
And today, at this reunion.
It was the first time outside of "heroic" activities he'd interacted with them since before he made the wish. That's almost four years. Four years of nothing but battle calls and brief exchanges of information for the greater good. Hell, it had been so long now that he was the only one really still active outside of most of the original avengers.
He looks at the suit once more.
Fuck it.
🕷
Against his best interest, he somehow ends up crawling down the side of a stark industries building, downstairs until he reaches the hidden window of the lower floor. But, he was already late and press would be lining outside the entrance waiting.
So this made more sense. To him, at least.
He crawls down the side of the building and drops down onto the balcony, his feet thumping silently.
And when he slides open the balcony door, all voices go quiet. He walks in and closes it behind him.
He locks eyes with Tony first, immediately shifting his head a bit to Rhodey, then Steve, then Bruce. And after a few seconds, Thor emerges from behind the bar and gives a wave.
"Am I...interrupting?" He questions softly.
"Now that’s hilarious." Says Tony, but for whatever reason, his face doesn’t match his words. His eyes look empty. Peter can't ever understand what he's thinking. Not anymore.
Steve immediately stands up and crosses the distance to reach a hand out for him to shake, "Not at all. We're happy you could make it."
Tony gives him a once over and laughs softly, before turning turns his back away from them.
Rhodey does the same, and Peter tilts his head in confusion.
"What in the dress code is happening right now?" His eyes are narrowed in amusement and Peter feels his face begin to heat up behind his mask. Is that why Tony had said that and laughed?
He clears his throat, a little awkwardly, but his voice comes out clear when he speaks, "Yeah, was planning on going full suit but it seemed a little off for the vibe."
A couple chuckles radiate out.
Tony turns his head back around, "Dude, you are wearing a suit with a costume mask. You look like a party city wedding."
That makes Peter break out into a genuine laugh, "I guess you're right, huh? But the invite said formal. And from the neck down, I am formal."
Tony stares at him blankly, his cheeks flushed, and if Peter didn't know any better, he'd assume Tony was drunk when he points a finger at him and says, "Take it off."
Peter freezes, "Huh?"
"Your mask. Take it off."
"Yeah, I don't—I don't think that's how identity protection works."
For whatever reason, Steve decides to cut in and says, "Tony, just hold on. Let him have a drink first?"
"No, if he's going to sit and stay here, he should take his mask off and relax with us."
What the hell is going on?
"Now, wait a moment, I want to speak with Spiderman too, don't chase him out yet." Thor says, lifting his head up from his phone temporarily, and his glass to Tony.
Tony raises his hands in mock surrender.
"Come, sit down." Steve says, guiding him over to the couch.
Peter inhales deep through his nose. It's fine. Just say a few words and get out of here.
"Sorry about him," Bruce cuts in, "..he's drunk. And wound way too tight lately."
"No, I get it." You seriously don't get how much I get it. "It's not easy doing this all the time."
"Yeah.." Bruce says.
It's a little awkward still until Bruce breaks the silence again, "So I've been meaning to ask, how do those webs of yours work?" His eyes shift down to Peter's wrists. "I don't see any material or gadget…I mean, where does it come from?"
Peter his heart beat faster.
“What did you say your name was?”
"It comes from me. Part of my arachnid DNA." Stop talking, Peter. "But it didn't always." Don't say anything else. Don't get comfortable.
"And how does that work exactly?"
Stop talking.
Okay.
Don’t let them know you.
No.
It’s fine.
Just a conversation.
And once again, against his best interest...
Maybe I could talk for just a little bit.
🕷
Bruce's face is contorted into a disbelieving smile, "Hold on. So you're saying you have organic spinnerets? In your wrists?"
Peter doesn't know why he gets so excited when he speaks next, "Yeah! Located right at the base of the wrist. But it actually stretches through the tendon? And it’s actually pretty convenient. Except when I'm dehydrated, you know? Then it's like really disgusting, like pushing leftover paste out of the tube."
"Fascinating." Bruce comments.
"So that's why nothing I could create even came close." Tony says from a little further back. Peter jumps and turns to face him, "You were trying to recreate my webs?" Tony nods his head.
"Well, yeah..uh." He chuckles, "That'd be pretty impossible. It's all organic. I’ve even tried it myself. But it just can’t be replicated. Part of the biological mutation, I guess."
Tony nods his head with a smile, and Rhodey lifts the glass from his hands, "Alright, that's enough for you tonight."
"What? Nooo!"
"Tony, you're being an alcoholic in front of the younger generation. Setting bad examples, man." Bruce comments, and Peter holds back a snort.
"Younger generation?" Thor cackles heartily, "And what if our friend in the red leotard is of my age?"
"So, what, fifteen-hundred years?" Rhodey questions, to which Thor cackles out loud, "Right exactly, mate!"
"Thor, have I ever told you how strong your accent is?" Tony retorts.
"That you have!"
"Huh."
"Spiderman," Tony calls. Peter's head perks up and Tony waves him over. He obliges, walking over slowly, "Yeah?"
The others begin to engage in conversation, drawing out Tony’s words. But it doesn’t take much for Peter to focus on what he’s saying.
"Sorry about the whole mask-ish. Look, I get it—privacy, protection, keeping the bad guys off your lawn. I won’t lean on you about the mask again, deal?”
Wow. The Tony I knew would have never said that.
It only deepened the hole in Peter Parker's heart. He really, truly, didn't know any of them anymore. Least of all, Tony.
“It’s okay, Mr. Stark.”
Tony squints, and the whole room stops. The conversation goes dead silent. Peter freezes underneath his mask.
Oh god. Oh God. Oh please no.
”Mr. Stark? What the hell—”
Peter backs up and freezes, stammering behind his mask, “I—I didn’t mean…”
However, Tony is not affected in the slightest. He only laughs and dips his glass over a bit so the ice is dancing along the edge of a cup.
”Haven’t heard anyone call me that in a long time. Not since I was taking interns, huh Rhodey?”
Rhodey nods his head, his eyebrows furrowed in amusement, “Yeah..”
”I’ve never heard anybody else ever call you that.”
Tony then turns to face him again, “Did you ever intern for me, Spiderman?”
Maybe Tony was saying it jokingly, maybe he was dead serious. Peter couldn’t tell. All he could hear were the alarms going off in his head, all his senses dialing up to ten.
It probably wasn’t even that serious.
Maybe none of them even thought anything of it when he said it. Maybe it was all in his head.
But now all he could think of was those three years of his life he spent. Being confronted by Tony in his house, confiding in Aunt May about his powers.
Learning everything he knew, how to use his powers for good. What good meant, because a lot of the times it wasn’t what was directly in front of him.
The guidance Tony provided for him. How he learned to accept the care and love in his life. And then all of it was stripped away from him, first Tony, and he had to learn to live without him, and he did.
He really did learn how.
Until someone came and ruined everything. Took Aunt May. And then without anyone, until he agreed to the spell. And then everyone coming back to life, and he was the only one who knew.
That none of it was supposed to happen.
That there was a universe out there that was disaligned.
All in his head. Was anything even real? Was he real? How could he be so sure.
He looks at his hands and spreads his fingers apart, looking for anomalies.
Bruce and Steve are staring at him in concern, Thor looks confused and Rhodey is wearing a conflicted expression, not even looking at him.
“Spiderman, are you alright?”
It’s too much.
You shouldn’t have said anything.
Why do you never listen to me, Peter?
You’re right. I’m sorry.
“I..I’m so sorry, I gotta go.” Peter manages to get out. He takes one look at the room and shoots a web to open the sliding door and throws another one to a building opposite of it, exiting the penthouse flat and swinging off into the night.
🕷
Why why why?
Why do I always do this to myself?
Whats wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?
Am I real?
When Peter blinks again he’s back in his apartment, his suit forgotten, only in his boxers and a tanktop now. He must have dissociated again.
“E.V, can you scan my vitals?”
”Scanning vital signs.”
”You have an elevated heart rate of, one-forty-five beats per minute. This range shows you are in a highly vulnerable state. You may be experiencing an stress-induced panic attack. Would you like to commence breathing exercises?”
”Yes, please.”
He should’ve known better. Catching glances of them in passing was one thing, good jobs and well dones in the face of danger. But standing face-to-face with them is unbearable.
Especially being so close to Tony, sayings things that would have totally given him away if not for those eyes that looked right through him without so much as a trace of recognition.
And Peter knowing everything about what they used to be and nothing about them now. Knowing the truth. Meanwhile to them he was a complete stranger. It was more than his heart could handle.
“Inhale one, two, three, four…”
”..exhale five, six, seven, eight, nine.”
Inhale one, two, three, four…
..exhale five, six, seven, eight, nine.
With every deep breath, oxygen rushed back to his brain, clearing the fog.
And it could no longer hide the hurt.
It hurt. He was alone.
But he wasn’t seventeen anymore. He wasn’t reliant on anybody, he didn’t have anyone looking out for him. It was his responsibility and his alone. His powers, his existence, and his sanity.
And for the sake of his sanity, he knew two things.
One. Never get close to the avengers.
Two. Don’t tell anyone who you used to be.