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Tony knew he had to do this.
Surprisingly, he was not afraid. He would be giving his children a chance to live after all. His kid.
What would he not do for Peter?
Glowing tendrils wrapped around his right arm in a way that looked excruciating—and probably was—but Tony felt nothing.
Nothing but love in his chest that glowed brighter than the magic of the stones.
Love, for Morgan, who will have to grow up without a father. She was strong, Tony knew that. Just like her mother.
Love, for Peter, the one for whom he had risked it all. He will be a great older brother to his little girl. He might even fill his space, the way Tony did for Peter.
Love, for Pepper, who will be the one holding his little family together. There was a small pang of regret as he thought of leaving this all on Pepper’s shoulders, but it was nothing in front of his gratefulness to the universe to allow his children to live together.
He shifted his gaze, sweeping the battlefield for a man in a blue robe and red cloak.
Past floating debris that seemed to glow from the light of the stones, he spotted him. Strange held up one shaky finger.
1 in 14,000,605.
His eyes wandered again, until they caught Peter.
Terrified, distraught Peter, looking right at him.
Tony’s heart ached. He wanted nothing more than to sweep him up in his arms and shield him from everything bad in the world.
He entrusted that responsibility to the rest of his family, he entrusted Peter to his loved ones.
“I..” he breathed.
Peter started running, tears streaming down his face.
“Am…”
Peter was too far away. Tony was secretly glad he was, away from all the hurt.
This is it.
“Iron ma—”
A neon pink streak cut through the air right in front of him.
The glowing tendrils disappeared.
The gauntlet was empty.
Tony was pretty sure that the silence that hung in the air right now was not just his brain blocking it out.
Because there stood fifteen-year-old Peter Parker, who was across the fucking battlefield half a second ago was there with the stones clutched in his chest.
No no no no nononononononono please please not his peter notpeternotpeter
His eyes were a vibrant pink.
What?
“You’re… Zaunite.” Thanos’ rumbling voice whispered, and Tony caught a hint of fear in his voice.
Zaunite? What the hell is that?
Suddenly, Peter was gone again, a light trail still following him, painting afterimages of his every movement.
Tony doesn’t think anyone moved. He didn’t have the mind to move himself.
Not the Chitauri army, who seemed to be slowly backing away.
Not Carol Danvers, who stared, brow furrowed, lips parted.
Why the fuck weren’t they doing something? They should be helping Peter for fuck’s sake!
But hell if Tony was letting his kid fight Thanos alone. His kid was fighting Thanos. No way. He needed him, Peter needed Tony—
He forced himself up, but a hand in front of his suit stopped him, and he didn’t have the energy to resist. It was the wizard.
“Don’t, Tony. You’ll just get in his way.” he said, jaw tight and hands slightly trembling. A faint sheen of sweat covered his face, but Tony needed to get to his fucking kid, he didn’t have time for this—
“Get in his way? Strange— That is my fucking kid in there and he needs my help—” Tony’s voice wavered. He wasn’t above begging, not when it came to his kid.
“He doesn’t need your help. He’s a Zaunite, he’s in a league of his own, Tony.” Stephen’s eyes never strayed from where they were locked on.
“He needs my hel—” You don’t understand, I can’t lose him, I can’t, I need him to meet Morgan and May again—
“Just look, Tony.”
Tony looked back to Peter, bracing himself to see Peter getting thrashed around, heart already in his throat.
He did not expect Peter kicking Thanos’ ass like he did it on a daily basis.
He could have laughed out loud from sheer fucking pride.
The only reason he knew it was Peter though was because of the several afterimages left around Thanos. He couldn’t actually spot him.
What the fuck?
Where the hell did he get those powers?
Tony didn’t process much after that—except the yelling he got from Peter for that stunt—until he found himself sitting in a circle with all the avengers, in the Quinjet.
“What the fuck, Pete?” Natasha was the first to speak up.
“My dad worked on intergalactic missions for SHIELD,” he shrugged.
“Okay, number one- what the hell is a Zaunite?” Tony spoke, for the first time since he regained some semblance of consciousness.
“A Zaunite” —Strange began— “is the name of the life form inhabiting the planet of Zaun. They are rumored as the strongest life form in the universe. The main reason for this is — something in their blood called Khyrr'ae, loosely translated to Shimmer in English, which gives them powers that manifest differently per individual, but are known to be widely radioactive and destructive.”
“Ooo-kay, Mr. Wikipedia, and one more thing— Peter, your father worked for SHIELD?” This day was getting weirder and weirder.
“Uh-huh. Agent Richard Parker.”
“And you’re a Zaunite.”
“Technically only half— but I can shift between a Zaunite and Human pretty quickly—”
“And when exactly were you going to mention that?” Natasha cut in, clearly exasperated as well as concerned as well as scared as well as surprised.
“Uhh, it kind of… never came up?”
Silence.
Seven pairs of eyes focused on one single teenager, all relaying one message. Are you fucking kidding me?
“Fury knew, so I guessed he must have told you guys too!” He threw his hands up in the air, whining like a child.
He was a child, so they could hardly blame him, Tony thought.
Tony sighed and took in his team’s distraught faces. Sam was staring into the distance, and so was Clint. Steve looked like he was scrambling to find something to say, Natasha just closed her eyes and leaned back like she had given up hope, Rhodey and Bucky were staring concernedly at Peter, and Stephen matched Natasha’s expression.
“Okay— but we have to put the stones back to where they belong.” Strange said, rubbing his eyebrows, redirecting the conversation back to business.
“And one of those places is Zaun.”
Tony was surprisingly more jittery than the last time he drank 17 cups of coffee on an empty stomach.
Which was a feat in itself.
Underoos—his kid, alive alive alive and safe— sat on the metal trolley, happily swinging his feet as he munched on a donut. His gray hoodie—that he had stolen from Natasha, and surprisingly, she had let him—was also covered in sprinkles, matching the ones around his mouth.
He could see the team giving him a look of adoration and love, and honestly he was pretty sure he was also in the same boat.
Five years.
He had gone five years without his son, five years of missed ramblings, of excited calls, of late-night texts.
Now that he had him back, it was kind of hard to believe it was real.
Tony shifted his attention back to the console, a small smile still on his face. The view of space from outside the quinjet would never be missed again, even if it was beautiful.
“ETA, Fri?” Tony asked quietly.
“15 minutes, boss.” Friday replied dutifully.
As realised, the quinjet landed on the barren planet of Morag fifteen minutes later.
Tony was broken and battered and injured, but he was going out with the team. No one was going out alone.
“Alright. We’ll need a disguise, won’t we? To make ourselves look alien.”
“You know, my shapeshifting-into-a-zaunite-powers would be pretty helpful. Then all of you don’t have to put on disguises either, because no one would mess with a Zaunite!” Peter rambled.
“Absolutely N—”
“The kid has a point.” Strange agreed.
“What the—”
“Great!” Peter took the hoodie off and transformed right there, to a charcoal-skinned 7-foot nightmare-ish figure.
Ok, not nightmare-ish, the kid looked human enough, with a human shaped head and 4 limbs and standing upright. His eyes were completely white though, and along his skin there were faint, curling markings, like smoke in the air or ink in water. His hair went down to his waist, as black as his skin but with a little hint of violet when they caught the light just right.
His facial features were sharper, his body leaner, and, upon closer look, you’d notice the webbed fingers and the fins along his forearms, but other than that, he looked fine.
Tony, along with the avengers just stared. Not even surprise, just staring, as if questioning all their life choices.
Peter turned and grabbed a cloak—a legit white cloak, with hood and everything—and covered himself with it.
“I’m ready,” he said, his voice slightly echoing around the cabin.
Silence.
“W-We’re gonna need more time. I think.” Bruce spoke up first.
“Sure” Peter said, shrugging. “I need time too. Gotta change out of these.” he said gesturing to the not tight, but short science pun t shirt and jeans he had on.
So while the avengers moved around preparing themselves, Peter French braided his hair into two sections, and moved to change.
Tony took one look at Peter and his mouth promptly fell open. Peter had some white traditional style pants on, if you could call them that. It was more like a loincloth, except the back was also covered and there were actual shorts underneath.
Then on the top he was wearing a deep V-neck wrap top, except it was made out of some dark blue textured cloth. The hood pooled around his neck, and the cloak flew freely down from it. Silver open-toed armored boots reached up to his calf, intricate designs glittering.
“Where the fuck did you get those?” Sam said, voicing the least concerning of all their thoughts.
“That’s hot.” said Wanda, voicing the most concerning of all their thoughts.
“You gotta be prepared.” Peter shrugged once more.
“Let’s go.” Steve said, after a moment of silence, and they all headed out.
Peter kept his hood over him, head bowed.
They walked behind Peter, and Steve spoke quietly.
“Fury said there would be a pawn shop around here, and that there is an associate of his over there who could show us where the stone was being kept.”
A short bob of his head was all the acknowledgement they got before spotting said pawn shop and following Peter inside.
They reached the counter, and Steve started speaking in hushed tones to the bartender, while the rest of the team made themselves comfortable around one of the many tables lined with chairs.
An alien with nine eyes and outgrown fangs walked over, before grabbing Natasha by the arm.
“She yours?” It called, to Peter.
Fuck, did it think they all belonged to Peter or something?
Nat glared, Clint opened his mouth to say something, and so did Steve, until they were distracted from Peter’s response.
A short nod from Peter after some consideration made the alien grin wickedly.
What? Is going on?
“How much?” He said, shaking her by the arm.
Natasha looked ready to slice its head off herself, until Peter spoke.
“She’s not for sale.”
His voice was different. It vertebrated around the room, and settled deep into Tony’s bones.
“How much?” It asked again. The whole place had quietened and they were watching the scene.
“She’s not for sale. Leave, before I have to make you.”
There was something authoritative about Peter’s voice. He spoke slowly, like he had all the time in the world, and it made Tony’s hands shake, just because of how intimidating it was.
“Oh, you are going to make me? I’ll see you you—”
Peter lazily lifted his head, for the hood to slip off and reveal his Zaunite features.
Immediate silence. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.
A pitcher dropped somewhere in the room, the low thud almost deafening.
“Please continue. What about me?”
The Nine-eyed alien immediately let go of Natasha, as if burned.
A few aliens got up and hurried off.
“Leave.” Fuck, it was as is the air was thick, like honey. It wouldn’t quite go down his throat.
The Alien turned and fled.
The pressure eased, and Tony felt like he could breathe again.
The avengers cast quick glances at Peter, who looked seemingly unbothered.
The bartender Steve was talking to approached them.
“This way, sir.” Even his voice was shaking. Poor guy.
Peter got up and the Avengers followed. They entered a dark room at the back, and they noticed the SHIELD logo and sighed in relief.
The walls were made of dark slate-looking material, though they couldn’t be entirely sure. This wasn’t Earth after all.
All of them sank down on the seating offered, a pink couch that had clearly seen better days. The bartender hastily poured a drink and handed it to Peter.
None of the others. Tony was slightly offended.
“For the others too, if you will.” Peter said, and the poor guy’s body seemed to lock up at the sound. He nodded stiffly and handed everyone some water.
The bartender once again stood in the center of the room, hands sweaty, clasped together. Clearing his throat, he said, “Director Fury mentioned that the avengers would be headed here. H-he did not mention you, sire.”
‘Sire?’ Tony saw Clint mouth behind him, his expression a mix of confusion and bafflement.
Peter slowly tilted his head.
“He did not?” His voice echoed around the room.
“N-no, sire.” the bartender replied, before hastily adding on “I-I’m sure it was a mistake, sire. He didn’t mean to—”
“How unfortunate.” Peter cut him off, swirling the red liquid in his glass.
The bartender gulped.
But, red liquid?
He had given Peter red liquid and the rest water.
Goddamn, kid.
What the fuck are you?
“It’s not a concern.” Peter continued smoothly.
The poor guy finally took a breath.
“But-but what brings you here, my liege?”
Every avenger in the room was having an aneurysm simultaneously.
“Ask him,” Peter pointed to Steve lazily, waving his hand in dismissal.
The bartender looked fucking relieved.
Tony seriously needed coffee. Or an Ibuprofen. Or to wake up and find out this was all a dream.
After returning the stone back to its original place at Morag, the next stop was Zaun.
Tony could already feel a headache building.
Peter was at least back in his human form, sipping on fruit juice.
The Quinjet landed with a thud.
“OK team, we’re here.”
Peter casually transformed back into his Zaunite form, and this time, he didn’t bother pulling his hood up.
“Okay, so since we are now on a planet full of Zaunites, the advantage of having Peter with us is now low.” Strange said, clasping his hand together.
Peter snorted.
“What.” Strange narrowed his eyes, mouth settling into a slight frown.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Peter waved his hands, a shit-eating grin already on his lips.
“I don’t trust him.” Natasha spoke up.
“Just—follow me, okay?” Peter said.
Everybody nodded their assent, and Peter stepped down, the avengers on his heels.
There were already multiple Zaunites surrounding the Quinjet, big ones whose muscles looked more like cords wrapped around, almost grotesque.
The avengers immediately got ready to fight, but the Zaunites just bowed their heads, tapping their chest. Peter nodded once, and they dispersed.
“What just happened?” Tony asked Peter.
“Think of it as a sort of welcome tradition.” Peter replied.
“But why did they look different from you?”
“My enhancement is speed-type. That means a lean body, longer legs, sharper features, etc. They were strength-types. Soon enough, you will see sense-types. The ones with hearing would be ridiculously tall, and rarely move. The ones with sight are small, and they scurry about with large eyes.”
“Despite all this, I am still half-human, or one would say more human than Zaunite. Even though I can hide all my Zaunite features in my human form, I cannot hide my human features in Zaunite form. Like the fact that my muscle structure is still very human. It doesn’t matter here though, because I doubt anyone here has seen much of human anatomy.”
Tony blinked.
Okay, I guess.
“The stone was in the palace, right?” Peter asked.
“Yes.”
“Then here we are.”
Only noticing it now, Tony looked up at the massive glittering palace, which looked more like tendrils from the ground reaching into the sky.
“This one, right? Or the underwater one?”
“There’s an underwater palace?” Tony’s head snapped to Peter.
“We are amphibians.” Peter shrugged. He had been doing that a lot.
“No, this one only. But I must warn you, the guards here are some of, if not The Toughest in the galaxy. We need a plan—” Strange was interrupted by Peter already moving forward.
“Peter—”
The guards bowed, in that same position the other ones had bowed, surrounding the Quinjet, and stepped to the side to allow Peter inside.
Peter stepped inside, but the guards immediately took back their place, blocking the Avengers’ entrance.
A sharp sound, a foreign syllable that was spoken too quickly for Tony to catch, from Peter, and the guards immediately stepped aside.
Strange was pale.
“You’re a Zaunite Royal?”
Of fucking course. What else was left?
“Mhm.” Peter hummed, as the guard lining the walls of the corridor all bowed as Peter passed them.
Peter didn’t even acknowledge them in anything more than a single sharp nod.
Tony was going to write a six-volume encyclopaedia. Title? WHAT THE FUCK IS MY SON, a memoir by Tony Stark.
Finally, they stepped through some shimmering curtains, to see the grand courtroom in all its glory.
Different Zaunites were seated along the side, and Tony took some pride in identifying the sight types, the strength types, though the hearing types were not here.
At the end, on a raised platform, seated a lady. Probably the queen—a speed type, like Peter, Tony recognised—judging by the throne she sat on and the crown spike on her head. She also had her hair in the same French braid Peter wore.
As all the Zaunites' attention snapped to Peter, they all stood up and bowed. Peter continued walking to the throne, and stopped a good distance away from the raised platform.
He also, copying the movements of the rest of the Zaunites, bowed and tapped his chest and immediately stood straight afterwards.
The avengers copied his movements, but the rest of the Zaunites had not yet stood straight.
“Mother,” Peter acknowledged the lady sitting in front of him.
Change that to seven volumes, the last one containing information about this specific moment.
“Peter… I thought you were to come only in the summer?” The lady stood up and walked down carefully, after a flick of her wrist which made all the other Zaunites stand straight and resume their earlier positions.
“I had some work to attend to.” Peter replied. The queen did nothing but put her hand on one side of Peter’s face. She was slightly shorter next to Peter.
“Regardless, it is good to see your face.” She said, before turning her gaze to the awkward Avengers.
“Ah, you must be the Avengers. Peter has told me a lot about you. Please come, you are our royal guests.” she said, before turning and speaking sharp breathy syllables to another Zaunite, who hurried away.
“Please, mother. It is lovely to see you, but we do not have much time.” Peter said, and turned to Strange, raising his phantom eyebrows.
Strange cleared his throat, and spoke, “Your Majesty, we are here to return this.”
In his hands, was the Power Stone.
Some Zaunites stood up, clearly defensive.
“Ah, of course. I knew it was in safe hands.” The queen picked it up with long slender fingers, before putting it in the scepter of a staff Tony had not noticed before.
“We must leave now, mother. I will visit as soon as I can.” Peter spoke.
“Please do, the palace feels empty without you.”
Peter gave a short bow once again, and turned around to walk out. The Avengers followed, each giving a short, earthly bow instead. The queen seemed to understand, however. She did have a human son after all.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Tony hissed “You come here every summer?”
“Yeah, where do you think I disappear to every summer?” Peter shrugged. The shrug at this point was probably some form of Zaunite communication.
I don't know, kid, Camp Half-Blood?
This was going straight to the encyclopaedia.
“How do you even get here?” Sam spoke up from somewhere in the back.
“Fury arranges the transport.” Peter said, matter-of-factly.
“Fury?” Natasha asked. “How come I didn’t know?”
“That you ask Fury.”
Oh yeah, Tony had a lot to talk about with Fury.