Chapter Text
Peter Parker suspected something was off around 2 hours after getting blasted by that one Doctor Strange ripoff. He had no clue who that guy was, but clearly it did something because last time he checked, his cell service worked in literal Times Square, but the screen stayed, idly buffering in a monotonous circle in every app he opened.
“Karen, connect me to the highest speed internet service right now.”
“I’m afraid I cannot connect to any available networks right now. None of them are familiar to me.”
Peter paused. Not even Karen could connect to anything? Was there something wrong with the suit?
Sighing in defeat, Peter dove into the nearest alleyway and carefully took his suit off. The trash bags surrounding the alleyway had a horrible stench; he definitely picked the wrong alleyway. Peter could have sworn this was one of the locations he was familiar with around Times Square. He cringed at how sore he was from that fight.
That hit must have been worse than he expected, because long tendril-like marks went all across the source of impact as if he got struck by lightning. The bruise ached terribly, practically pulsating, but it’d probably heal in a few days. His possibly-dislocated-shoulder might take a week.
Stuffing his suit into his backpack and changing into his science pun t-shirt and jeans, Peter trudged out of the alleyway, wincing from time to time from the ache in the middle of his chest. The familiar sound of taxis honking and distinctive chatter filled the air, but was unfamiliar at the same time.
Stumbling across the sidewalk, he noticed a few people giving him looks here and there. To be fair, a dislocated shoulder and a bleeding scratch on your forehead is decidedly not a good look. Peter kept walking with a slight limp on his left leg, but persisted.
Pulling out his phone, he tried again to get cell service. Nothing worked. Something was definitely, very wrong.
“Excuse me, are you Peter Stark?”
Peter stopped in his tracks.
What?
Peter... Stark?
Peter glanced at the woman in front of him with a bewildered look in his eyes. She seemed to have the most curious, yet concerned look on her face ever. Her wire glasses shone in a light with amazement and impatience for his answer.
“I’m sorry, what?” Peter questioned.
“You’re Peter Stark, right? Are you alright, dear?”
“Um. Yes.”
“Wow, I never thought I’d ever meet you, it’s a great honor sir!”
“Wait- I meant to say yes to you asking if I was alright, I’m not—”
Another person came.
“What happened to your face? And your shoulder, oh god.”
Then another.
“Peter Stark!”
Then another.
Suddenly, a swarm of people were surrounding Peter with questions and comments, screaming and chanting his name and the last name of his dead mentor.
This felt all too familiar from when people found out his identity as Spider-Man. …Did Doctor Strange’s spell not work?
It was getting louder, a bit too loud- too LOUD, IT’S LOUD—
“HEY. BACK OFF MY KID.”
Peter turned around. As the path cleared, he gasped at what he saw in front of him.
Last time he checked, Tony Stark was dead. And he certainly wasn’t supposed to come here to save him from what, normal civilians?
Gawking, Peter rubbed his eyes in disbelief. He was right there, a few feet away from him. Peter blinked back tears in disbelief in front of the man he mourned. Without even thinking, he ran to Tony and leapt into his arms with a tight hug. Just to prove he wasn’t a hallucination, that he was really there. He held onto him as if he would disappear again.
“You have no idea how glad I am to see you here,” Peter whispered.
He ignored the hundreds of camera flashes as he embraced the man.
His tears flowed freely onto his cheeks and onto Tony Mr. Stark’s Armani suit. When he finally let go of him, he took a good look at his face. Just to see him alive and well.
“Kid, you have a lot of explaining to do when we get back to the compound. How did you get this beat up? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just a few scratches here and there; everything will heal up in a week tops.”
That was a bit of a lie. He was not fine and about to have a mental breakdown at what just happened.
“In complete honesty, you look like you just emerged from the dead.”
“I’m surprised you aren’t,” Peter retorted.
“I’m not that old, Peter. Now answer the question seriously; Are you okay?”
Before Peter could answer, he passed out on the floor.
————————————————
Peter woke up in soft sheets, softer than what he had in a long time. The bed felt too big, and almost like the one in the Stark Tower.
Widening his eyes, Peter shot out of his bed, glancing around the room.
“Hey, hey, hey! Take it easy, you’re lucky you’ve been healing this fast from the state I saw you in,” Mr. Stark exclaimed.
Well, that was confusing. Shouldn’t he know that I have a healing factor?
Glancing around, Peter realized he was hooked up to an IV and had medical care for every smallest scratch. He completely forgot about this luxury he took for granted back then. Back when Tony was alive. But now he is alive again which makes it much more confusing and he’s acting as if nothing ever happened to him.
Peter started to theorize right then and there.
a) Beck never died and threw me into a simulation. None of this is real.
b) I’m dreaming.
c) This is not Tony Stark. It’s an alien who brainwashed everyone thinking he’s alive and well and also supposedly related to me.
“Yknow, whatever gang you stole drugs from must have been real bad if it made you hug me,” Mr. Stark said. “The last time you ever hugged me was when your head was up to my waist and you still wet the bed.”
This man was decidedly not the Mr. Stark Peter was familiar with.
“Spit it out, Underoos. What happened?”
Peter, still not used to being in front of Mr. Stark after his death, could barely say a word. Just thinking about him made tears well up in his eyes. Now that he knew he wasn’t dreaming and this was in fact, the Tony Stark, he wanted to spill the whole truth to him.
As he opened his mouth to say something, Mr. Stark interrupted him.
“I don’t want to see you out there getting into messed up shit again, you understand me? Just to let you know, my PR team is working on cleaning up that shit you pulled earlier. If you step into here pass-out-drunk, I might as well disown you. Capiche?”
That was definitely not what Peter was expecting would happen. Disown? …What?
“But Mr. Stark I-”
“Oh, okay. I see what’s happening here. You think you’re too cool to hold the Stark name, huh? Well, news flash, kid. You’re still Peter Stark and I haven’t disowned you yet. A real miracle after I’ve had to clear your name for every idiot decision you make.”
Then it all clicked. Oh no. Somehow, something changed with the world. Peter wasn’t quite sure, but he knew he was not Peter Stark. He was Peter Parker.
He must have replaced this world’s Peter Stark.