Work Text:
Chapter 1 (The Way to Say Hello and Goodbye)
Peter Parker squints through the destruction, trying to see past the fractured lenses of his mask.
Across the crater, Captain America—actually just Steve Rogers, Nomad (but he’ll always be the Captain America)—helps Thor get back up with a helping hand. The god looks up to the human, and for the first time in perhaps the world before the accords, before Thanos, smiles.
The God of Thunder, as far as Peter knew, never smiled. Not after losing his home, his family, his own dignity. Sure, he quipped like all other heroes. It’s part of the business here. But Peter knew those zingers were all just… a jab back into a world that was determined to make them its punching bag.
(Sound familiar?)
Thor gets up, and Steve pats him on the shoulder with one hand, holding onto Mjolnir with the other. Strange, Peter thinks. That Norse weapon seems to belong more with Steve’s hand than any other.
Peter approaches them. With just one step in their direction, the two heroes, still larger-than-life than ever, turn to face him. Silent. They’re waiting for him, he realizes. So he can join their conversation.
(What was three, down to two.)
(Back to three.)
(For now.)
They’ve seen better days. But Peter supposes that at least they live to see them.
Thor’s armor is battered, scorched apart, unable to withstand the cosmic rays from Doom. For Steve Rogers, the uniform looks as though it went through the storm of knives and bats, battered and bruised. The man is caked with dust and leaking a trickle of blood from a scalp wound.
Still, they stand.
They are every bit as the internet and media and hope claimed them to be. Their hair is tousled, muscles still flexing, skin flushed from the fight. Their postures are grounded with poised grace and confidence. Even with the world—multiple, in fact—standing at the edge of destruction, they did not budge.
Marks of heroism.
“You alright there, Thor?” Spider-Man asks cheerfully. “Seems like Doom put you through the wringer. Not to say you didn’t come out on top, though.”
Thor grunts. “Aye, man of spider. Formidable foe to the end. It is a wonder how the Four can face him so routinely.”
“Good thing his worst enemy is always himself.”
“How are you doing, son?” Steve asks.
Spider-Man shrugs. “Can’t complain too hard,” he says with a grin. “The universe—multiple of them, actually—will live to see another day. Which is great, because I’m still waiting on playing GTA6. Now if only I could afford a PS5…”
“A noble endeavor,” Thor nods seriously. And Spider-Man blinks before laughing. This was the God who got himself drunk and played Fortnite not so long ago.
“You’re the smartest kid I know,” Steve says. “Can’t you make one of those… PlayStation you talk about?”
“And have Sony and their army of patents come after me?” Spider-Man snorts. “That kind of copyright infringement is a nightmare to deal with, no thank you.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“You could say that.”
This was all so silly that Steve—gradually, in the slightest manner—let out the softest laugh. Spider-Man grins back at him while Steve only shakes his head. “I always enjoy your little quips, Man of Spider,” Thor says. He equips Stormbreaker onto his back. “I must go for now. Captain Rogers…”
“Rendezvous in ten,” Steve promises. And as they both watch Thor fly away, Steve turns to Spider-Man.
“What was that about?”
Steve shrugs. “Just making sure I don’t leave without a goodbye.”
And Spider-Man understood. “No Irish Goodbyes here, Cap,” he says.
“You clearly don’t know me, Queens,” Steve says with a sour smile. “But no worries. Trouble isn’t over.”
They both turn to see a shuttle fly down toward a circle of heroes across the field, the Blackbird X-Jet. Peter can’t lie—he’s surprised to see it standing in one piece after the whole event. But it does make transportation for the X-Men much more convenient. When the jet landed, the group of X-Men heroes crowded the boarding platform. Peter desperately stops himself from craning his neck to peer through the crowd. It’s a waste of time. And yet, his pulse beats so rapidly at the thought.
Is she okay?
Is she safe?
Peter sighs. How utterly selfish of him.
(The art of letting go.)
Peter catches the glance Steve gives him. Something of understanding and sympathy behind those eyes. “I better make my rounds, get some briefing on how they fared against the Sentinels.” Steve shakes off his uniform before turning back to Spider-Man. “You coming?”
“I don’t have the courage for the X-Men right now,” he mumbles. “Not after… you know.” He makes a gesture around the back of his neck.
“What they do with the inhibitors isn’t on your hands,” Steve says calmly. “You can’t feel responsible for another’s hatred.”
“But they do,” Peter says, watching the X-Men. “And maybe they should.”
“Then that cycle of hatred? It will never end.”
Peter chuckles. “How about I avoid it to begin with? They say that preventative actions are the best way to solve the problem.”
“I think you’re putting too much burden on your shoulders, Spider-Man,” Steve says. “Come brief with me. Talk to Doctor Reed and Xavier. I’m sure they would love your insight with the multiversal incursion and the experience of seeing other universes at hand.”
“Is that an order, Cap?”
“I’m done ordering around. No, all I’m saying is that someone has to be the poster boy for today’s heroics.”
“That’s what you were made to do.” Spider-Man groans. “You were literally the propaganda boy for the US military.”
“So I paid my dues,” Steve says with a chuckle. “It wouldn’t hurt to have more press for you.”
“Hold on here. This whole heroics was your doing. You did the whole ‘Avengers Assemble’ thing that got the world to believe in superheroes. You’re the OG here.”
“That’s just an excuse. You’re a hero, Peter. Go spend at least some moment to be celebrated as one.”
“Even when I don’t deserve to be?”
It comes even before he can think through it. Peter—Spider-Man—no, Peter sucks in a breath. Steve looks back at the boy sharply. And for an agonizing moment, they both stand still. Peter feels his heart pump through his chest. Before him was the hero—the hero—and maybe… perhaps…
(Let it go, Peter)
He finds that he cannot.
Selfish once again.
“After this is all over… what’s going to happen to you?” Peter asks softly.
Cap tries to offer him a smile. “Back to where I belong.”
“Even when you’re needed here?”
He blinks at that, and for the briefest second, he seems to be thinking about it. Because Peter knows that’s just who Steve Rogers is. He’ll fight against every and any bully in the world. Doesn’t matter where. Doesn’t matter when.
“Even then,” Steve says, almost a whisper. “The world has a Captain America. A better one.”
“But not a Steve Rogers.”
The voice is shaky. There’s nothing more than for Peter to just have someone come back. The world seems to have been bigger, scarier without Tony Stark or Steve Rogers.
Steve seems to be hesitant before softening his eyes. “You lost a lot, kid. Didn’t you?”
The mask felt to be suffocating, so Spider-Man takes it off. Peter feels the air still smelling of sulfur and ash. “You know when the multiverse incursion happened,” Peter says hesitantly, “and we all experienced the different universes… I saw—I was—different Peter Parkers across reality.”
Steve nods.
“There was apparently another universe,” Peter continues. “Where I joined your side during the Civil War between the Avengers.” Steve blinks at that before shaking his head with a smile, amused and sad over the multiversal constant that he was going to fight Iron Man.
“And what happened?” He asks.
“I joined your side,” Peter says. “I joined your side because I realized the Registration Act was wrong. Because we were imprisoning unregistered heroes without a fair process, without justice. Because when I looked at my hands, and no matter how hard I tried, I realized I was doing something seriously, seriously, wrong.” Peter sucks in a breath. “And you… you gave me—that version of me—a speech when I was so full of doubt and fear. I didn’t know if I ever deserved to be a hero after what I’ve done.”
“And what did that Captain America… what did I say?” Steve asks patiently.
Peter closes his eyes momentarily. “You told me that it doesn’t matter if the whole world decides something wrong is right. You told me to stand up for what I believe in, no matter the consequences. And you told me that no matter what happens…” His voice is shaky. Is it a memory if it didn’t happen to you? But it still mattered? “You told me to plant myself down and dare to say, ‘No, you move.’”
The words of Captain America. Peter opens his eyes again to see Steve Rogers.
None of that happened to them. And it never will.
Was there truly nothing Peter could do to make Steve Rogers stay?
“And you did,” Steve says simply.
“Don’t you get it, Cap?” Peter presses. “That inspiration… that… that kind of speech doesn’t just come out of nowhere. It comes from a hero. And it feels like we need one more than ever.”
“Which is why they have you.”
“No… No… No, Cap.” He shakes his head, almost frantically. “I’m sorry, but they need someone better.”
That’s the truth, isn’t it?
Because that truth was held deep inside of him. That… that fractured brokenness coursing through his veins as powerful and ingrained as the spider-DNA.
This is Spider-Man:
A boy entrusted with great responsibility and greater failures.
(He will fail them all)
“Speaking of other universes,” Steve says. “There was one when the Punisher tried to shoot me.”
“Frank?” He frowns. “But he would never. He idolizes you. Everyone does.”
Steve shrugs. “Point is, he tried to shoot that Steve Rogers, only for someone to throw a wrench in the plan.” He smiles at him, warmly this time, full of confidence Peter desperately needed. “Took the bullet meant for someone else. Sound familiar?”
Peter scratches the back of his neck. It’s a rather bad habit that seems to be a multiversal constant.
“That Spider-Man, bleeding, almost dying, told me to stop wasting my time and help out others at the moment because he thought the sirens meant for him meant that there were others out there who were in danger.”
“Oh, man,” Peter says, shaking his head. He looks down at the battered mask. “I can’t stop making a mess out of every universe, can I? How can I be so stupid?”
“Funny. That Peter said the same thing. Can you guess what that Steve said in return?” Peter shakes his head. “He said, ‘Are you kidding? You took a bullet without even hesitating. When you grow up, you’re going to be the best out of all of us.’”
Peter’s breath catches in the back of his throat. “It’s not… I… Anyone would have done the same thing.”
“Anyone isn’t someone like you.”
“And… what do you think?”
“I think he’s wrong,” Steve says simply.
“Oh.”
“Because I think you already are the best out of all of us.”
Peter looks back to the hero that inspired it all. And he doesn’t know what to say. But he doesn’t need to. He feels a hand, solid and steady, placed on his shoulders.
“Don’t be afraid of the future, Peter.” Steve offers him a smile. “Believe in that better tomorrow.”
Peter nods. And for the briefest moment, he sheds his heart to let Steve’s courage move him. “I guess I was just hoping that we all fight for it together.”
“We have. And we always will. Even if we’re worlds apart—multiverses apart—we’re fighting the good fight together. So as long as each of the world has someone with the heart like yours… everything will come out well in the end.”
Peter feels his smile turn melancholic, almost rueful. “You know, the offer still stands. I can be your sidekick.”
“Whatever happens, Peter,” Steve says with a laugh—a real one this time that Peter feels he earned, “no matter what happens, if you do need me, I’ll be here again.”
He watches Captain America—the first one, the one to stand before an army, fate itself, and the world took that inspiration and joined him—leave. Passing what felt to be the unbearable burden of being a hero onto his shoulders.
But as he watches the broad shoulders of a soldier committed to the eternal fight for good, Peter can’t help but feel… good.
Fight the good fight. And even across the universes, there would always be someone who will do it with him and for him.
*
Peter watches Cyclops start the headcount for the rest of the X-Men. Just like a school field trip, he muses.
They would go back to their mansion, their home, with all of the classes, homework, who-likes-who drama waiting for them. A pang in his heart makes him realize how much he misses it.
(And who is waiting for you, Spider-Man?)
That’s easy. The adoring fans. The villains and the muggers and the cat stuck on a tree who all ask for his blood or signature and love and hate and respect and appreciate what he does.
(But who is waiting for you, Peter Parker?)
Oh.
Peter stares at the mask, fractured reflections of his own battered and bruised face from the sunset. Nothing felt as empty as when the adrenaline subsided and the ear stopped ringing and the head stopped swimming. Now, as Peter stands still, watching the Fantastic family gather together and the X-Men laugh at one of the stupid jokes one of them always made, he realizes—
No.
Stop.
Not now.
Not when things have ended well and the day was over and the fight was won and—
(Poor Peter Parker is going to go back to his apartment alone—)
“Why are you just standing there, brooding?”
Peter blinks and turns around.
It is her.
The girl’s hair, red as the sun that rises for a new day and sets for a new night, falls in loose curls around her face. And her eyes have that bit of light in them, unable to hide that smirking sense of knowing everything, like they’re in on an inside joke with you. There is something triumphant and gleeful in her eyes that wasn’t there the first time they’ve met.
She’s okay. She’s safe.
He shakes his head. “I wasn’t brooding,” he says, almost childishly. “I usually reserve that for Wednesdays at 45th Street.”
“Well then,” she says with a smile. “Now that you’ve established you're just standing there… do you want to go say hi to the rest? They’re big fans, you know.”
“Ehh, maybe later. Don’t want to interrupt their kumbaya right now. It looks like they’re about to do a team cheer.”
She chuckles at that. “Jubilee tried to make that happen before.”
“No kidding. Something along the lines of, ‘Go, X-Men, Go!’?” The girl is silent for the briefest second, enough of a time for Peter to laugh. “Wait, are you serious?”
“I told her it wasn’t going to work,” she groans. She only shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure when the adrenaline all dies down for them, they wouldn’t mind seeing a friendly spider around.”
“I think they would be more eager to see a Phoenix instead.”
She pauses. A shade of hurt in her eyes over his rejection twice. He silently berates himself.
Boundaries, he insists. These are just the necessary boundaries required for her. “It’s your team, Jean,” he says simply. “Go with them. I’m going to be fine. I need to be back to New York in an hour. Who knows what’s been going on without someone keeping an eye on the city?”
“I think it’ll be like what New York always is.”
“And that worries me.”
She frowns, realizing that he wasn’t really laughing after a quip. “You can’t possibly be thinking of going patrolling right now.”
“Actually, I was thinking of calling DeWolfe for the latest update on the drug ring,” he says cheerfully. “I missed our weekly calls.”
“Peter!”
“A lot is going on. The universal incursions… I don’t know how, but that seems to have inspired some to take the mantles of villains from other universes. I’m getting reports that there’s some incident that happened over the electric power station I need to check out. I’m really not looking forward to this universe’s Electro—”
“You can’t be serious,” she says, exasperated.
“Don’t worry,” Peter gives her a manufactured grin, usually hiding behind the mask. “I was told that was something I severely lacked.”
“You’re still bleeding.”
“It’ll heal fast.”
“Not if you’re diving into heroics like this.”
“Someone has to.”
“No,” she says bitterly. “No one has to. Not when you just insist on doing everything alone.”
“I don’t have the luxury of a team!” He snaps.
She sucks in a breath. He feels his heart clench.
Great. You’ve done it again, Peter.
“I… That’s not what I meant. I—”
“What’s this really about?”
He blinks, almost caught off guard by how she doesn’t play around with it. “What do you mean?”
“What’s this really about?” She crosses her arms, almost annoyed. “I understand—even excuse—you hanging out exclusively with Steve Rogers and Thor and Doctor Strange and Hulk and the other Avengers. Sure, I get that. But not even a hi?” She looks down, letting her voice shed just the slightest bit of hurt. “You didn’t even check up to see if I was doing okay after the Sentinels.”
“Jean…”
“Is Spider-Man too big for the freaky X-Men gang now? He only hangs out with the big dogs? Too mighty to even ask for help?”
“It’s not that!”
“Then what is it?” She demands.
“I don’t know!” He says helplessly, throwing his hands up in frustration. “We should be happy that we saved the universe and that we’re both alive right now to talk to each other. And…” he sighs. “We should all be happy.” He turns away. “I just lost everyone to be happy with.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s not the same. Not anymore. Steve Rogers is gone,” Peter says bitterly. “Tony Stark. Everyone I ever looked up to, everyone I could even remotely ask to rely on… they’re gone.”
He looks back to the sky. She didn’t understand. And maybe more importantly, Peter doesn’t want her to. She’s already got enough baggage and problems as it is. When he glances back at her, expecting some sense of disappointment or anger or even disgust, she just looks sad.
“What about me?”
His heart twists. “You’re… you’re Phoenix.” Like that was the most obvious thing in the world. Because it is. “Omega-Level—don’t look at me like that. I read up on Hank’s work and classification on X-Genetics—and there’s… there’s so much more for you to worry about.”
“Like destroying the world?” She says bitterly.
“Saving it,” he corrects her. “I’m not the big dog here now, Jean. You are. As for me… I’m still just a crime fighter in the neighborhood.” He tries to offer her a smile. “Street-tier, as they say online.”
“Not you too,” she groans, rolling her eyes. “What is with guys and those stupid strength-scaling—”
“Power scaling—”
“Obsession? How fragile and obsessed are you men with each other to just feel the need to rank everything? You’re Omega-Level, Jean,” she says in a mocking high-pitched voice that Peter really hopes isn’t an imitation of what he actually sounds like, “so you shouldn’t be talking to me because that’s above your fighting class.” She throws her hands up in exasperation. “Omega-Level,” she says with scorn. “Like that means anything.”
“You don’t understand, Jean—”
“Oh, I don’t understand? Tell me, Peter Parker. Tell me exactly what I don’t understand here?”
Peter is still. He feels his heart beating and breaking and twisting in a way that makes this whole thing unbearable, and he just wants to run. Maybe now was the best time for the truth.
“This,” he gestures, “between us. It’s an anomaly across the multiverse.”
“What do you mean?”
“Across the multiverse, across all the conceivable realities,” Peter says slowly, painfully, “Phoenix is with the X-Men.”
“Yeah. So what does that have to do,” she says, gesturing between them, “with this?”
“Maybe Spider-Man and Phoenix weren’t meant to have their heroics together. Not like this.”
“I… I don’t understand what you’re trying to say right now. How could you say that, Peter? Not when you saved me. Not when you took a bullet for me. Not when you inspired me to be who I am today—”
Peter tries to give her an assuring smile. Pass the torch, he thinks. From Tony and Steve to me. And maybe…
“I may have helped you from the start,” he says. “But your story… it belongs with X-Men. And I’m scared that any interaction I have, it just pulls you away from them. I’m pulling you away from the hero you’re meant to be.”
Spider-Man, now that’s a hero. But Peter Parker? Well—
Selfishly, I want you next to me.
I wished that in moments when the thrill and adventure and action all die down, and we’re left with the choice to go home… There was another option.
But I can’t.
And I need to let you go.
It hurts to let go of this stupid wish over and over again, a thousand times.
So please stop coming back.
“You’re allowed to outgrow me, Jean Gray.”
He watches the horizon, a sunset that felt cruelly beautiful. Peter’s hands, which were clenched so tight, start to relax and loosen. At least, he thinks to himself, you’re being cool about this.
Yeah, Peter. Great job.
He dares to take a peek at Jean Gray, who he thinks is offering a good closure to… this.
His heart shatters at the sight of her eyes tearing up. His throat is lodged. What... what did he do wrong?
“You,” she says, breathing sporadically, fists clenched tight.
Yeah, Peter. Great job. “Jean—”
“Are—”
Peter feels his hair rise. “Wait. That’s not what I—”
“The—”
Rocks levitate. “Please. What I’m trying to say is that—”
The alarms go off as loud as they did when facing Doom.
“BIGGEST IDIOT EVER!”
He winces as he feels her fists slam against his shoulders and chest.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!” She snarls. “This is how you’re going to break up with me? Like this? When we haven’t started dating?”
“Wait, started—?"
“Do you sacrifice yourself to feel that important? You think of yourself so noble because of how much you self-inflict your own loneliness and pain? Is that how much pride and ego you take in your own hurt? Does it make you seem large and tragic, Parker? Does it make you feel so heroic?”
“Wait, that actually hurts—”
“How dare you, Peter Parker,” she snarls. “How dare you force me into an ultimatum without my consent—and yes! I know! I know the irony isn’t lost on me. Don’t you DARE quip back on that—how many conversations have you had in your head about this?” She demands. “How many times did you project this conversation between us in your own goddamn mind and answer for me and never let me answer in my terms?” She closes her eyes, resting her forehead against his chest. “How dare you,” she says, her voice shaking, “choose for me how much you mean to me.”
They stood like that as they were. And for the briefest moment, Peter felt some sense of Déjà vu. His arms wrapped around her, and he feels his heartbeat faster when she almost nuzzles against his chest.
Oh, man, Peter thinks. I really messed this up.
“Yeah,” Jean says with a sniffle. “You did.”
“How did—”
“It doesn’t take a telepath to figure out what you were thinking.”
“You know,” Peter says. “I usually ask for forgiveness when I’m slinging across the skyline with them. Makes the whole forgiveness thing easier for some reason.”
She laughs weakly within his embrace.
Yeah, Peter. Great job.
“I’m sorry,” he says as they drift apart, but feeling her still hold onto his uniform. “I didn’t mean… just seeing you lead the X-Men throughout all of this, and I guess I realized this isn’t where I really belonged in your life.”
“I don’t understand: why the ultimatums, Peter?” She says, shaking her head. “Why can’t I have both—be both? It’s possible. I can make it possible,” she says, almost insisting.
“It’s never been done before,” he says weakly.
“So does that mean it’ll never be done ever?” She presses. “I didn’t take you to be so fatalistic.”
“There are universal constants everywhere, Jean. I just…” He looks away. “I just want to make sure this universe is one where you can feel like you belong.”
He watches as the jet gears up the engine. Bright blue fuel gears through the turbines, starting to lift the aircraft. His heart pummels as he can spot one of the X-Men—Cyclops? Must be him—starts to wave Jean over.
This is how you say goodbye: when you’re not ready, when you’re holding the hand of someone you can’t let go.
(You must.)
“They’re calling for you,” Peter says softly.
Jean frowns. “You can’t seriously think I’m going to leave you now.”
“I’ll call you. Or maybe you can reach me telepathically.”
She sighs. “Peter—”
“Please. Just… don’t make this so hard for me right now.”
“What about this is hard?” She asks, exasperated.
And he does what he thought he would fail to do: he lets go of her hand.
“Accepting that you will forever belong with the X-Men. And Spider-Man… Well, he’s going somewhere else.”
She sighs and shakes her head as she gets up. His heart is beating in his chest, shattering with each beat, and all he can think:
Yeah, Peter. Good Job.
Another goodbye.
He watches as she dusts herself off the battered uniform. And he first felt how proud and happy he was to see her in it. He hates how it was only making it harder for him to watch her leave. And now, he tried to console himself that this was the right thing to do.
“You know…” she says slowly. “Phoenix has the X-Men. That doesn’t change no matter what universe we live in.”
Peter closes his eyes. He knows that. He knows that down to his core. He looks at the group patting each other on the back, hugging, crying, laughing, and just having a place to simply be. They were locking arms entering the X-Jet. Jean Gray deserves that. This Jean Gray deserves that. If only… if only—
“But—”
He whips his head back to Jean Gray still choosing to stand next to him. “This Jean Gray,” she says softly, tilting up to him, opening herself to show him how beautiful the sunlight can be reflected through those eyes.
“This Jean Gray has you.”
It’s a flood of emotions when Peter looks down to see her smile at him.
Relief. It’s the way his shoulder seems to finally levitate back straight, unaware of how heavy the burden of danger was.
Gratitude. The very idea that he doesn’t need to open up something that’s buried inside of him. Something he felt when he saw Tony right in front of him die away. Aunt May. Steve Rogers. Something he felt that shouldn’t have been possible, seeing MJ and Ned blink at him as though he was a stranger.
(He’s going to be left behind, like always.)
(Not anymore.)
"I have you."
Fear. The instinctual response to all of his other feelings. It’s the heavy accusations that he’s being selfish. He was selfish before, and that’s what got everyone he cared for gone and killed. Who was he to ever ask for more? Ask for her?
She seems to be reading all of this chaos within him. And she just continues to smile.
What is this feeling? How is he feeling all of this at the mere sight of someone?
“Come on,” she says without needing to wait for a response. She takes his hand and guides him away. They turn their back against the sun, the X-Jet, the confused heroes of the Fantastic Four, the X-Men, the new Avengers, or whatever coalition they seem to be now that everyone can be a superhero.
“Where are we going?” Peter asks.
She looks back at him without even needing to answer.
Oh, he thinks.
It’s the answer he never thought he knew.
It’s home.
This is how someone’s smile is your home.