Chapter Text
Peter Parker had gotten very good at waking up in strange places. Whether that be rooftops, alleys, sometimes even abandoned warehouses. The occasional cell he absolutely did not remember being dragged into. Apparently, now, a random dark room. He opened his eyes to a ceiling he didn't recognize. Peter stared at it for several seconds. Then he closed his eyes again. Nope. Not doing this. He opened them. Still there. The ceiling remained stubbornly dark. His head throbbed. Every muscle in his body felt like it had been replaced with wet cement. His throat was dry, his chest ached when he breathed. He slowly turned his head. Peter let out a quiet groan.
"Okay," he whispered. "No clue where I am or how I got here."
He remembered fighting, and a horrible aching pain. He remembered feeling the life bleed out of him.. He remembered—Peter's eyes widened. He remembered everything. His stomach twisted, he swallowed.
"Great."
Peter stared at the ceiling again. He had known this would happen. He had prepared himself for it…Mostly. But knowing that you might possibly be dead is kinda horrifying. Peter froze. His eyes snapped toward the corner of the room (if it could even be called that.) Someone was standing there. A man..dark hair, goatee, arms crossed like he owned the place. Peter stared. The man stared back. Neither spoke. Peter's heart stopped.
"No."
The man raised an eyebrow.
"That's usually my line."
Peter's mouth opened…Nothing came out. The man leaned against a wall(?). Peter's entire body tensed.
"No, no, no."
"Kid—"
"No."
"Peter."
Peter tried to stand up but as soon as he did, he felt dizzy.
"Whoa!" the man shouted.
Peter stumbled backward, nearly falling to the ground.
"You're not real."
"Well, that's rude."
Peter backed against a wall that he had no idea existed. His hands shook.
Tony Stark stood in the corner of this dark room with him. Tony Stark. Dead Tony Stark. The Tony Stark who had died in front of him. The Tony Stark whose funeral Peter had attended, whose name Peter had spent years trying not to say too often because saying it hurt too much. Tony raised both hands.
"Okay. First, don't panic."
"You're Tony."
"Last I checked."
"You're dead."
"Yeah."
Peter stared.
Tony sighed.
"Yeah."
Peter's breathing quickened.
"No. No, this is Beck."
Tony's expression changed.
"Beck?"
"Mysterio."
Tony's jaw tightened. Peter pointed at him.
"This is an illusion."
"Peter—"
"He did it before. He can do this."
"Kid, I don't have any idea who—"
"You died."
"I am aware."
"I saw you die."
Tony went quiet. Peter's voice cracked.
"I was there."
Tony's expression softened.
"I know."
Peter stared at him. Tony looked around the room.
"Okay. Let's establish something first."
He pointed at Peter.
"You're alive."
Peter swallowed.
“I am?”
Tony did not look amused.
"And you're currently talking to me."
Peter nodded again. Tony shrugged.
"So far, so good."
"But you're dead."
"Also true."
Peter's eyes narrowed.
"Then you're not real."
Tony considered this.
"Technically?"
Peter waited. Tony sighed.
"You're dreaming."
Peter blinked.
"What?"
Tony leaned back in the chair.
"You're dreaming, kid."
Peter stared at him.
"So you're not actually here."
"No, not technically."
Peter's shoulders dropped.
"Oh."
Tony watched him carefully.
"But."
Peter looked up. Tony smiled faintly.
"I'm visiting."
Peter frowned.
"That's not how dreams work."
"Since when have dreams ever made sense?"
Peter couldn't argue with that. Tony looked exactly as Peter remembered. Same hair, goatee, and stupid expression that always made Peter want to roll his eyes. Peter's eyes burned, he didn't want Tony to see him upset like this, so he looked away. Tony noticed, but didn't choose to comment. For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was Peter's breathing. Then Peter whispered:
"Why?"
Tony's expression softened.
"Because you needed me."
Peter looked back at him. And for the first time since waking up, he stopped trying to convince himself Tony wasn't real