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“Hi, honey. How was the meeting?” Pepper calls from the kitchen as Tony enters the house, quickly shutting the door behind himself to block out the swirling wind outside and stamping snow off his boots.
Her tone is casual, but he knows she’s just as eager for answers as he’d been earlier today when he’d ventured out to the compound to meet with Nick Fury and the Sorcerer Supreme.
Now he wishes he hadn’t received those answers.
“Fine,” he tells her, keeping his voice as neutral as possible as he unzips his coat with cold-numbed fingers.
She gives him a piercing look that lets him know that he won’t escape further interrogation once Morgan is in bed.
The girl in question is sitting at the kitchen table, coloring in her Avengers coloring book, and his eyes fill with tears as he drinks in the sight of her. She’s got her favorite pajamas on, the ones with little horses on the pants and sleeves. He’d braided her hair this morning, and it’s still mostly intact, with just one stray tendril falling over her forehead.
Not much has changed since he last saw her this morning. And yet, everything has changed.
“Tony?” Pepper questions. He hears the fear and uncertainty in her voice, and he knows some of what he’s feeling must be showing on his face.
He shakes his head, forcibly swallowing the grief welling up within him. There will be time for tears later. Now he wants to cling to these last few bright moments.
“Not now, Pep,” he tells her, his voice hoarse. After a long moment, she gives him a nod of agreement, but he can see that she knows he’s bearing grave news.
“Hi, Daddy!” Morgan calls, oblivious to their turmoil. “Can you help me finish this page?”
He smiles at her. “Of course, baby.”
So on this final night of normalcy, he sits at the kitchen table and colors with his daughter until Pepper tells her that it’s time for bed.
“Give her a few more minutes, Pep,” he says softly, his heart heavy in his chest.
“It’s already an hour past her bedtime, Tony; I don’t want her sleep cycle to get messed up.”
But sleep cycles don’t matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore.
The smile lines that have been gradually forming around Pepper’s eyes, the sturdy old trees bending in the fierce wind outside, the warmth of his daughter’s embrace as she crawls trustingly onto his lap — these things are everything to him.
But soon they’ll be nothing. Because he’ll be nothing. They’ll all be nothing.
***
He tries to break the news gently to Pepper.
Morgan has been sleeping peacefully for half an hour, and he knows he can’t put it off any longer. He presses one last kiss to her forehead and rises from his seat next to her bed, knees creaking, to return to his and Pepper’s room.
He wants to spare her, but he knows she’ll want to know.
“The world…is going to end? Just like that?” Pepper asks, sinking onto the bed in shock, pressing a trembling hand over her mouth.
He sits next to her, their knees touching. He grasps one of her hands with his own.
“I’m afraid so. Unless the Wizard of Oz can find a way to stop it,” Tony tells her grimly.
“But…how?” Pepper asks. “Why?”
That’s what Tony has been asking himself, too. Everything they’ve all gone through — all the times he’d risked life and limb to save people, to try to be better, to right his family’s legacy — it’s all for naught.
He’d broken every law of the universe to invent time travel and help defeat Thanos. He’d almost died, he’d nearly lost an arm, and he was still recovering.
And for what? To bring half the population back so they can all die again a year and a half later?
He thinks about his intern, Peter. Lucia, the barista at the small coffee shop in town who always treats him like a normal person instead of a retired superhero. Harley, who is off at MIT for his freshman year of college and loving it. Bruce, who he hasn’t called for a few months. Caroline, Morgan’s best friend from her kindergarten class.
They’ll all be lost. So many vibrant lives that all touch his own life, snuffed out in a matter of days.
“I just don’t understand,” Pepper says, shaking her head.
“According to Strange, there’s some sort of botched spell that’s weakening the fabric of our universe bit by bit. He thinks it started about a year ago, and it’s grown progressively worse.” Tony explains wearily. “Yet another reason why I hate magic.”
Pepper purses her lips. He can see her going into CEO mode, already calculating her next moves.
“We have to go back to the city to start preparing —”
Tony shakes his head. “There’s no need, Pep,” he tells her.
She looks at him uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean? There’s billions of people out there, and we need to find a way to save them. Of course, I’ll just be handling things from SI’s point of view, but you’ll have to —”
“There’s nothing I can do, Pep. Strange said that he cast the spell himself, and it’s up to him to figure out what it was and how to stop it.”
Pepper shakes her head in denial. “We can’t — we can’t just sit by and watch this happen, Tony! What about Morgan? You’re just going to let her — after everything we’ve been through — ”
Pepper chokes on a sob and stops speaking. Tony pulls her into his arms, fighting off his own tears.
“It’s no use, Pep. I told Strange I’d help him if he needed me, but he turned me away. Said I should go spend the time that’s left with my family.”
For several long moments, the only sound they hear is the endless torrent of the wind outside. That’s how all of this had started — unusually cold weather and massive storms beginning in November. At first, it had just seemed like a particularly bitter winter — but it never let up, and then it spread to the Southern Hemisphere, where summer was starting. A state of emergency had been declared by the UN earlier in the week. School was canceled, flights were grounded, and businesses had shut down. Tony hadn’t been too worried about the whole thing — until today.
“How long?” Pepper whispers.
“A week,” Tony says against the crown of her head. “Maybe two.”
He holds her as she cries, feeling utterly helpless.
He’s finally found a crisis that Iron Man can’t fix.
***
They don’t tell Morgan. She’s six, and they want her remaining time to be as peaceful and stress-free as possible.
She’s thrilled to have unexpected time off from school, and she relishes in the undivided attention he and Pepper are showering her with. They ignore her bedtime, play every game she requests, let her eat extra dessert, and tuck her safely between them in their king-sized bed every night.
He wakes up in the middle of the night a few times to find Pepper staring at Morgan like she might disappear at any second, and he knows he’s been doing the same thing.
He assesses their stores of dry food and seals up the barn as tightly as possible to keep Gerald warm. Eventually, though, the storms will grow so intense that no amount of preparation will matter.
The final blow will probably be quick, according to Strange. The pressure will build and build until the universe simply rips apart or explodes, vaporizing them all in an instant.
For the first few days, he ventures down to his lab to try to brainstorm solutions to the problem, but he doesn’t know enough about magic to be of any real help. And they can’t rely on time travel to go back and fix things if they don’t know what’s causing the problem in the first place.
On the third day, he sweeps half of his equipment off the lab bench in frustration and defeat, sinking into a crouch and finally allowing himself to shed a few of the many tears that he’s desperately wanted to cry for the past few days.
It just isn’t fair.
He should know better by now — when has life ever been fair? — but some small part of him had believed — had desperately hoped — that Morgan would grow up to be safe and healthy and lead a long, happy life.
Thanos’ death had felt like wiping the last opponent off a chessboard. Tony had settled into his recovery, hanging up the mantle of Iron Man for good and focusing on being the best dad and husband possible. He owed it to Morgan and Pepper after all he’d put them through. And for the most part, it had been going well…until now.
Although, he’s felt…strange at times, this past year. Wracked by a peculiar sense of mourning that he can’t put a name to. He sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night, gasping, with no recollection of what or who he’d been dreaming of, grief tugging at his heartstrings like a siren song. These moments are always accompanied by a bone-deep feeling of loss, as though it’s not his arm that had been destroyed but a piece of his heart.
He’d chalked it up to trauma — lord knows he has plenty of it — but now he reconsiders this theory. Maybe some part of him had known that it was too good to be true — the idea of Tony Stark deserving a happily ever after.
Maybe he’d sensed this coming but hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself.
***
He calls Happy, and then Rhodey.
He’s not sure how much longer they’ll have service — it’s gotten increasingly spotty over the past week, and according to Fury, the UN is planning to make an announcement to confirm the rumors that the end of the world is coming soon. All hell will surely break loose then, and cell service will probably go out for good.
Of course, he’s a tech genius and has a state-of-the-art laboratory on the premises of his house. He could probably rig up some kind of communications system through FRIDAY. But he has a feeling that he should save all his power and equipment for later — just in case they somehow survive the end of the world and have to fend for themselves in the aftermath.
“It’s been an honor, boss,” Happy tells him, his normally gruff voice sounding even gruffer than usual with emotion. “Hug Morgan and Pepper for me, will you?”
Happy is on vacation in Hawaii — a trip he’d originally planned with his girlfriend, May, who had died unexpectedly last year.
“Will do, Hap,” Tony says, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Will…will you be okay?”
He hates to think of his friend being all alone at a time like this. Happy has already been through the ringer with May’s loss.
“Don’t you worry about me,” Happy assures him. “I’ll be on the beach with a drink in my hand when the end comes.”
Calling Rhodey is even harder.
“They told us last night at the Pentagon,” Rhodey reports somberly. “I’m on my way to pick up my mom from the retirement home so we can be together.”
Tony smiles at that. “You two going to make your mom’s famous Sunday roast?”
“Yep,” Rhodey replies. “We’ll save a portion for you, Tones.”
“Thanks, Platypus,” he says to his oldest friend. “Thanks for everything.”
The two calls are short — both of them had been interrupted by frequent static and eventually cut out. In a way, it’s a blessing, because it saves him from having to hang up himself. It feels like an impossibility, to accept that he’s talking to his friends for the last time.
He dials Peter’s number next, but no matter how many times he tries, he can’t get enough service to reach his intern. He considers taking a suit out and flying to the city to find the kid. But that’s probably overstepping — Tony is his boss, and he’s only known Peter for a few months. Peter is…reserved, to say the least. He barely says anything to Tony that isn’t required as part of their work together.
Nonetheless, Tony has grown to care for the kid, and he gets the sense that Peter is on his own — no real friends or family at his side.
No one should face the end of the world alone, especially not an 18-year-old kid. It weighs heavily on him, as he cuts Morgan’s sandwich diagonally for lunch, as he pours Pepper another cup of coffee, and as they all settle onto the couch to watch a Disney movie.
He dozes off sometime after Mufasa dies in the Lion King, and he dreams a strange dream. He’s back on Titan, and for some reason, he’s holding Peter in his arms. Peter’s eyes are wide with terror and pain, and Tony can only stare in mute disbelief, sorrow like a leaden weight wrapping around his ankle and tugging him under a vast ocean as Peter disintegrates.
He wakes up on the couch by himself. The movie is over, and Pepper or Morgan have covered him up with a blanket. His heart is pounding, and inexplicable tears clog his throat.
He scrubs at his face as he sits up. Clearly, his subconscious is telling him that he needs to go find Peter. His mind had replaced the memory of his comrades and allies getting dusted on Titan — that bone-deep guilt over failing to stop Thanos — with his guilt for abandoning Peter in the city.
He’s not sure why it matters so much — it’s not like he can save Peter from the inevitable — but he has a sense that this is something he needs to do. Maybe he can’t save the world this time, but at least he can help one soul through these dark, final days.
He looks out the window — snow swirls outside, and a glance at his phone shows that the temperature is 12 degrees Fahrenheit. Night has fallen, and it will only get colder and colder.
Tomorrow, he promises himself. I’ll go find Peter tomorrow.
***
He jolts awake around 2 a.m.
At first he thinks he’s woken up because he’s gotten too cold. FRIDAY is doing her best to keep things running as usual, but in order to conserve power, he’s told her to lower the heat a little bit more than usual once they’re all asleep.
He shivers and pulls the comforter higher over his shoulders, grateful that Morgan is sandwiched between him and Pepper and doesn’t seem to be bothered by the chill in the air.
Then he hears it — a faint thumping sound coming from downstairs.
He has to fight his instincts to jump out of bed and sprint out of the room to investigate, guns blazing. Instead, he makes himself move slowly so as not to wake Pepper and Morgan. He quietly slips out from under the covers, wincing as his feet hit the cold floor. He tiptoes across the room, grabbing his spare gauntlet and making sure to lock the door on the way out so Morgan and Pepper are ensconced safely inside.
“Report, FRI,” he whispers.
FRIDAY lowers her voice to correspond with his volume. “There is an unidentified male knocking on the front door, boss.”
Tony heaves a resigned sigh. He’s been worrying about intruders and looters the past few days. Some people will always take advantage of chaos for their own personal gain, and others will just be desperate for any resources they can get their hands on.
He slides his hand into the gauntlet as he tiptoes down the stairs, avoiding the places where they creak. The door is closed and the windows are intact. He cautiously, slowly pushes the door open a crack. Sure enough, he can see a dark silhouette on the other side.
He waits for an ambush, but it never comes. After a few heartbeats, he swings the door open a little wider, taking in the full sight of the intruder on his porch.
He gasps and drops the gauntlet when he sees who it is.
“Peter!” He exclaims.
He’s been meaning to go out and find Peter, but it seems the kid has beaten him to the chase.
***
4 months earlier
Tony really doesn’t want to hire a personal intern.
He fights it tooth and nail for an entire year of recovery after the battle. He's in a coma for the first three months, and the Wakandans save his right arm, but he’s lost over 50% of its feeling and movement. His left hand is his non-dominant one, and it had atrophied greatly during his three-month nap. He has to relearn to walk, wield a spoon and fork, and tie his shoes.
Even though he despises it, he dutifully attends physical and occupational therapy each week, performing his daily strengthening exercises and picking up marbles with chopsticks for months on end. He wants to get better for Pepper and Morgan — he owes them after the ordeal he’s put them through.
But try as he might, there comes a day when he has to accept that he needs another set of hands to help him in the lab.
“Boss, I calculate that there was a 97% chance of you receiving a fatal shock if you’d touched that wire.”
“Wow, FRI, thanks for being such a ray of sunshine,” Tony grumbles lightly, but he’s shaking from head to toe as he collapses onto his stool. He’d been trying to re-wire part of Rhodey’s leg braces when his right hand had spasmed — an infrequent but annoying occurrence — and he’d come within a hair’s breadth of touching a live wire.
Tony would’ve laughed it off a decade ago, but he has Morgan to worry about now. He imagines Pepper coming into the lab and finding him lying prone on the ground, and he blanches.
He sighs in resignation. He doesn’t regret snapping to defeat Thanos, per se, but he sometimes wonders what had driven him to take such an extreme step. He’d been healthy and whole, retired and living his best life as a dad to Morgan and a husband to Pepper. He’d mostly gotten over the idea that he needed to be a hero and keep the entire world safe. Then he’d thrown a wrench in everything when Steve, Natasha, and Scott showed up at the lake house.
It had seemed so important at the time, and now he can’t remember why that was.
Still, there’s nothing he can do to change his past choices, and he has to live with the consequences.
“FRI,” he instructs, “send me all the applications for our college internship program.”
***
Peter Parker really hadn’t wanted to be hired as Tony’s personal intern. So it was a match made in heaven in that regard.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, jumping to his feet the second that Tony enters the small office where HR is conducting interviews. “There’s been a mistake.”
Tony pauses by the door, startled by the unfriendly reception. He takes a moment to size his potential intern up. The young man standing in front of him is wearing a too-large suit. He’s about the same height as Tony, and he has curly brown hair and brown eyes that are currently widened in shock and dismay.
“No, no mistake, Mr. Parker. I’m interviewing for personal interns, and your application seemed promising,” Tony says calmly.
He knows college students who would kill to get the chance to interview for a role as Tony Stark’s personal intern. He’s met them before — in cafes and elevators — and he’s learned to issue polite but firm rejections over the years, assuring them that it’s nothing personal and sending them on their way with disappointed tears in their eyes.
Peter Parker, on the other hand, looks teary-eyed because Tony wants to interview him.
“I-I wasn’t told that this position reported to you,” Peter stammers, seeming on the verge of a panic attack, gripping the back of his chair as though he needs its support to remain on his feet. “Thank you for the opportunity, sir, but I’d prefer to work with the rest of the interns.”
Tony wonders how this interview had spiraled out of control so quickly. Peter is young — only 18 according to his file, a freshman at NYU — and maybe he’s anxious about working with someone as senior as Tony.
He’d had high hopes for Peter — he’s the clear stand-out among the college applicants. Sure, he’s only a freshman, and he doesn’t have Ivy League credentials, but the project proposal and work samples that he’d submitted are stellar, and he lives here in the city, unlike any Ivy League students, who would be facing an unrealistic commute to work for him.
Tony contemplates ending the interview, given how the kid clearly doesn’t want to be here, but it would be a shame to let someone so talented slip through the cracks. And selfishly, he really doesn’t want to return to square one of finding an intern.
“Look, kid, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. How about we start over, okay? I’m Tony. I’m hiring for a personal intern, and I’d like to interview you for the role.”
He holds out his hand to shake, making sure to keep his tone gentle and his body language welcoming, but the kid takes a step back, staring at Tony’s hand as though it’s a venomous snake about to bite him.
“Okay, you’re not touchy-feely, got it. Listen, I’m not going to hold you captive or force you to be my intern, but can we at least talk for a few minutes? I was very interested in the project you submitted.”
Tony holds his hands up as a gesture of peace, making his way around to the other side of the desk so that he can sit. He keeps a wide berth as he steps around the kid, and he hopes sitting down will make him seem less intimidating.
Peter looks ready to bolt now that his path to the door is clear, but Tony has a feeling he’d hit the right nerve by bringing up the kid’s project. He hovers nervously for a moment, glancing between Tony and the door, and then he slowly sinks back into his seat.
Tony leans back in his chair. “So, kid. That medical webbing you created. Tell me more.”
Peter bites his lip. “I…I was inspired by Spider-Man’s webbing. I’ve lost a few people close to me due to traumatic injuries, and I thought Spider-Man’s webbing could be adapted to create a temporary bandaging that would put pressure on a wound and help stem the bleeding until first responders arrive.”
As Peter speaks, he seems to unconsciously relax and come to life. Tony can glimpse who the kid is when he isn't in the middle of an anxiety attack — a passionate, competent young scientist. He walks Tony through his formulas and progress so far and details his plans for the next year.
“I think we could get that patented and ready for production in six months, kid,” Tony tells him confidently.
Peter’s eyes widen. Tony can see that he’s tempted by the offer. It’s clear that this project means a lot to him, based on the personal losses he’d alluded to. And when Tony names the hourly pay for the job, the kid almost falls out of his chair. College is expensive, and the kid has to know that this gig is a great deal, whatever reservations he has about working with Tony himself.
“But…I don’t understand, Mr. Stark,” the kid says, his brow furrowed. “What do you get out of this arrangement?”
Tony shrugs. “I get to work on a project that helps people, and I get someone to help me out with my own projects.”
“I always heard that you didn’t hire personal interns,” Peter says, frowning skeptically at Tony.
It’s the complete opposite of how every other college intern has ever behaved around him, and it only solidifies Tony’s belief that this is the right person for the job. Peter’s behavior is strange, sure, but he clearly isn’t going to fawn over Tony’s every word and action, and that’s exactly what Tony needs from his new assistant.
“To tell you the truth, kid, my dexterity is shot,” Tony admits. He doesn’t want anyone to know, but the kid will find out soon enough if he takes the job. “Tremors, spasms, you name it, I got it. I can’t do much fine motor work anymore. I need someone to be my hands.”
And oddly enough, in the end, that’s what does it. Peter Parker looks down at Tony’s hands with a guilty, heartbroken expression, as though he’d personally caused Tony’s injuries.
“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “I’ll do it.”
***
Tony isn’t sure who’s more anxious about Peter’s first day: himself or Peter.
He’s nervous to let someone touch his tech, and he’s also dreading the painful process of bringing Peter up to speed in the lab. It will disrupt his flow to teach Peter where everything is, what he’s doing, and what he wants done.
He still has a gut feeling that he’s chosen the right person for the job, but his lab is a sacred place, and he’s been betrayed too many times to trust easily — from Stane to Rogers to the most recent incident with Beck, which he’d missed when he was in his coma.
He’d done a background check on Peter, of course, and the results had been strangely…brief. FRIDAY had found Peter’s current address — a shitty studio apartment in Queens — and his info as an NYU chemistry student, and that was it. No social media profiles, no family members, no photos anywhere online.
Still, the kid has no criminal record or skeletons in his closet that FRIDAY can find, and he trusts FRIDAY. He’s arranged for a trial lab day — if it doesn’t work out, Peter will be well compensated for his time and can go on his way with a professional reference from Tony Stark himself.
He plasters a smile on his face when the elevator dings, revealing Peter on the other side of its doors. Peter looks like he’s considering calling it quits too. He’s dressed more casually today, and he’s clutching the straps of his beat-up backpack with a white-knuckled grip.
“Glad you could make it, kid,” Tony says simply. “Lab’s this way.”
Peter walks behind him, following as though Tony is leading him to the gallows. He seems to brace himself as Tony presses a button to open the lab doors.
Tony has gotten used to expressions of awe and amazement on the rare occasions when he brings people here, but Peter just stands silently, clenching his jaw so tightly that it looks like he’s going to crack a molar as he looks around.
“‘S nice,” he mumbles after a minute, gazing at the floor.
Tony wants to laugh incredulously. Pepper is always joking that his ego needs to be taken down a few pegs, and it seems that he’s finally found a lab partner who will do that for him.
“You can have that lab bench there,” Tony says, pointing.
Peter stiffens for a second, but then he nods tightly, dropping his backpack by the spare bench in question and returning to Tony’s workstation.
“Alright, well, I think we should just dive in and see if this is going to work out. What do you say, kid?”
Peter nods silently. Tony supposes he should get used to doing most of the talking.
“Okay, so, I’m rewiring these braces. I got about midway through — why don’t you give it a try and see how far you can get? I need to review some designs that R&D sent me.”
He takes a seat, opens his tablet, and tries not to make it obvious that he’s spying on the kid.
He has to give Peter credit; he seems nervous about being here, but not about diving in and working. He rolls up his sleeves, skims through Tony’s schematics, and within five minutes, he’s fiddling around with the wires, frowning in concentration.
Tony watches him work for a bit, but eventually, he gets absorbed in his own task.
He’s startled when, an hour later, Peter presents him with two fully functional leg braces.
“That’s…yeah. Wow. Okay. Good work, kid. I figured you were coming over to say you had a question, not that you’d already finished the whole thing. Jeez, you trying to put me out of a job or something?”
Peter offers a forced half-smile. “I have some previous experience working with this kind of tech.”
“Then you’ll love what I’m going to throw at you next. Come on, pull up a stool. I have a feeling this partnership is going to work out beautifully.”
***
And it does.
Peter is still quiet, still reserved. But he’s reliable, and his work is flawless. It’s almost like he can read Tony’s mind sometimes with the way he reacts and adapts as they’re working together. Tony is happy to be productive again, and it’s a relief to have someone around that can keep up with his science talk.
That’s really the only thing they ever talk about — science and mechanics and engineering. Tony tries to venture into more personal territory a few times — he asks about Peter’s classes, about his apartment, about any clubs that he’s a part of. But he learns that asking those kinds of questions only makes his intern clam up and withdraw further into himself, so he stops.
But he doesn’t stop paying attention, and he learns a bit about his intern here and there because of his keen eye.
He’s not sure why he bothers — why it matters that Peter should feel comfortable and relaxed around him. Maybe being a dad for so long has made him go soft, and now he’s more prone to caring about the people around him, especially younger people. Maybe Peter reminds Tony of himself around that age, alone in the world, yet bright and full of potential.
Whatever the reason, he steadily learns about his intern. Peter is always cold, burrowing into his sweatshirt and rubbing his arms for warmth when he thinks Tony isn’t looking. He’s always hungry — he never asks for food, but he never turns it down, and he eats with a kind of urgency that suggests he’s not getting enough calories. He comes in with bruises sometimes, and he claims it’s from boxing at a local gym.
Tony starts raising the temperature in the lab by a few degrees whenever Peter is coming by. Every few hours, he pretends that he’s hungry and needs snacks or a meal so that Peter will eat with him. He makes sure the first aid kit in the lab’s bathroom is always fully stocked, just in case.
He manages to get Peter involved in a spirited debate about the valence-bond theory one day, and the kid is so passionate about the topic that he forgets to make himself small and quiet for once. He gestures wildly as he talks about chemistry and his opinions on the subject, his eyes alive with energy, his words pouring out a mile a minute.
He rambles for nearly ten minutes straight on one particular point, and Tony can only smile indulgently as he listens. He likes the kid no matter what, but he thinks he prefers Peter this way — eager and un-self-conscious, totally in his element.
Peter seems to catch himself having fun, however, and he quickly deflates and slams his walls back up. Tony tries to engage him in the topic a few more times, but he’s quieter than ever for the rest of that week.
A few weeks after that, Tony scores another major victory, completely by accident.
“Aw, DUM-E, what the hell?!” Tony exclaims, turning to his bot with an indignant glare.
DUM-E had been fabricating a new helmet and chest plate for the Mark 49 suit — only instead of Tony’s signature red and gold, the items are a lurid purple and green.
“I believe I can shed a little light on this new color scheme, boss,” FRIDAY interjects helpfully. “Mini-Boss was here in the lab after school yesterday, and you left the Iron Man specs up on your laptop when you went to fix her a snack.”
“Jesus Christ,” Tony grumbles. “FRI, revoke her access to any of the suit specs. Is the color the only thing she changed?”
“Yes, Boss. That’s all she changed.”
Thank goodness for that, at least. Knowing Morgan, she’d probably replace his repulsor beams with something like glitter bombs if given the opportunity.
Purely out of curiosity, he puts on the purple and green chest plate and helmet, standing in front of the mirror. He likes his usual color combo, but he supposes it doesn’t hurt to test something new every now and then —
Naturally, Peter chooses this moment to walk into the lab, ready to start his shift for the day. Tony scrambles to pull the items off, but he’s too slow.
“Am I interrupting something?” Peter asks, and Tony can see the way his mouth twitches like he wants to smile. “I can come back later.”
Tony clears his throat. “Nope, just, uh…experimenting.”
Peter wrinkles his nose. “No offense, Mr. Stark, but I’m not sure those are really your colors.”
Tony decides to lean into his own embarrassment. “You mean you’re not a fan of Iron Barney? Come on, Pete.” He opens his arms and begins to sing: “I love you, you love me…”
Peter laughs, a sudden, bright sound that Tony has never heard before. It makes something in his chest lighten, and he immediately wants to hear it again.
“To be fair,” Peter says, “I’m pretty sure that song could drive a lot of criminals away. Might be worth a try, Mr. Stark.”
“I’ll put it in my ideas folder,” Tony says. “And…you know, you can just call me Tony, Pete.”
He knows as soon as he says it that it’s the wrong move — a bridge too far. Peter’s laugh had lulled him into a false sense of confidence.
Sure enough, Peter immediately stiffens, the smile fading from his face.
“We should get started on re-fabricating the chest plate and mask,” Peter says in a neutral tone, completely ignoring Tony’s comment. But Tony knows that Peter isn’t going to start calling him ‘Tony’ any time soon.
Peter barely speaks for the rest of the afternoon, and Tony chastises himself for being too impulsive. Small steps — that’s what it’s going to take to get Peter to open up. And that’s fine. He’s willing to wait.
He’s not sure why it feels so important, but he knows he’s going to keep trying.
***
Present day
Peter is physically unharmed, but he’s dangerously cold, verging on hypothermic. Through chattering teeth, he manages to explain that he’d hitchhiked most of the way here, but then he’d had to walk a few miles from town to get to the house.
Tony wraps him up in about a million blankets and has him sit on the couch. It takes 30 minutes and two mugs of hot cocoa before Peter’s shivering subsides enough for him to speak for more than a few seconds.
“Sorry for showing up unannounced,” are the first words out of his mouth, because Peter always seems worried about being a bother.
Tony shakes his head. Maybe he would’ve been a little less forthcoming a few weeks ago, but the world is going to end in a few days. Tony doesn’t see the point in maintaining an illusion.
“Thank god you made it, kid. I’ve been worrying about you,” he says honestly.
Peter had been staring at the marshmallows in his cocoa, but his gaze darts up to meet Tony’s. “You — you have?”
“Of course. I was actually going to take a suit to New York to look for you in the morning, but you got here first.”
Peter’s eyes widen, as though shocked by the idea that anyone might care about him or notice if he was missing.
“But — but Mr. Stark, you have your family to think of —”
“Pepper and Morgan are well taken care of here; they could’ve spared me for a few hours.”
Peter doesn’t seem to know what to do with that statement.
“So what’s the plan, Mr. Stark?” He asks, pivoting to a new topic. “I’m ready to help.”
“Plan? Plan for what?” Tony asks, leaning back in his chair. He feels much more relaxed now that Peter is here — he hadn’t realized what a toll his intern’s absence had been taking on his mental state.
“You know…the plan to fix whatever is going on. To stop the end of the universe.” He sees eagerness and determination in Peter’s eyes, and it makes his heart sink.
“Oh, kid. I’m sorry,” Tony says sorrowfully, hating to break the bad news. “There is no plan.”
Peter draws back, looking confused. “But…what do you mean? There’s always a plan, isn’t there? I mean…the Chitauri invasion, Thanos…we have to stop this from happening too!”
Tony shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Pete. I tried, but…this is out of my wheelhouse. There are some people working on it, but I’m not one of them.”
He waits to see the disappointment and anger in Peter’s gaze. Hell, maybe some part of him wants to be judged for his failure to be of assistance in fixing this problem.
Instead, Peter’s expression shutters, and Tony can’t tell what he’s thinking. They sit in silence for a few minutes, until Peter drains the rest of his cocoa.
“Well, I guess I should be going then,” Peter announces, shifting as though he’s about to stand.
Tony frowns in confusion. “Going where? The only place you should be going is to bed.”
Peter doesn’t meet his eyes. “I’ll just head back to the city if you don’t need me here.”
And Tony is not having that. In an instant, his feeling of relaxation is gone, and he finds himself oddly near to a state of panic at the idea of Peter heading back out into the cold, dying world alone.
“Nope. No. Nein. Non. Take your pick of language; answer is still no. You’re staying here with us.”
He catches himself using the same tone of voice that he employs when Morgan is being particularly stubborn.
“Unless,” he adds, struggling to be at least somewhat reasonable, “you can honestly look me in the eyes and tell me there is someone waiting for you back in the city.”
Peter tries to meet his gaze, but as Tony had suspected, he ends up blinking and looking away pretty quickly.
“I really don’t want to impose —” he mumbles.
“Not imposing,” Tony insists. “We have plenty of room.”
There’s a guest room upstairs, but he has a feeling that Peter is going to be out like a light in a few minutes right where he’s sitting.
“C’mon,” he encourages. “It’s the end of the universe, Pete. No need to worry about the usual formalities and social conventions.”
Peter still seems torn, but he also looks quite comfy on the couch, and Tony thinks the words might’ve gotten through to him.
“You want to watch a movie?” Tony asks casually.
Peter bites his lip, and Tony’s heart twists with how young he looks. “Can we…can we watch Star Wars?” He whispers hopefully, as though he’s asking Tony to gift him the moon instead of watching a popular movie.
“You heard the kid, FRI. Star Wars coming right up.”
Peter barely makes it past the opening credits before he’s sleeping peacefully, looking more relaxed than Tony has ever seen him before.
***
He wakes up in the morning to Morgan peering at his face.
“Daddy,” she whispers loudly. “There’s a boy on the couch.”
Tony snorts, massaging his stiff neck as he sits up in his recliner. “I think he can hear you, Morguna,” he stage-whispers back.
Sure enough, Peter’s eyes are open. He looks embarrassed, and Tony can already sense another argument about being an imposition brewing now that the kid is more alert and awake. He decides to try to cut it off before it even starts.
“Thank goodness you’re here, Peter. Morgan has been pretty cooped up with all the storms these past few weeks. It’ll be fun to have someone else around besides Mom and Dad, huh, Little Miss?”
Morgan gives Peter an appraising look. “What do you know about Spirit the horse?” She asks, as though interrogating a politician at a press conference.
Peter’s face does something very complicated — his mouth curves like he wants to smile. And yet, at the same time, there’s a deep, cavernous sadness in his eyes.
“The horse from the TV show? Yeah, I know about Spirit. My…my sister used to love that show.”
This is the first time Tony has heard Peter mention a specific family member, and the way he’s speaking in the past tense…the implications turn Tony’s stomach.
Morgan, oblivious to the subtext, seems to have decided that Peter has passed her test.
“I’ll be Spirit, and you can be Boomerang, okay?”
Tony interjects. “I’ll make you horses some breakfast. Pete, give a holler if Morgan is being too commanding, okay? She’s got CEO blood running through those veins, and she’s not afraid to use it.”
Peter looks a little lost and overwhelmed, but he doesn’t protest when Tony heads over to the kitchen.
He listens in with half an ear as he scrambles some eggs and cooks strips of bacon on the stovetop, smiling as Morgan puts Peter through his paces. She’s decided that they’re training for some kind of horse competition, and she makes Peter trot and gallop around the living room.
It’s clear that Peter is experienced with kids — he lets Morgan take the lead but skillfully redirects her when she wants to use Pepper’s favorite vase as a prop. He hears Morgan giggle with delight a few times as they play, and Peter himself is grinning when Tony calls them over for breakfast.
Pepper, the wonderful woman that she is, doesn’t bat an eyelash when she comes downstairs and finds Tony’s intern sitting at their kitchen table, apparently the fourth member of their little apocalypse party.
“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Peter,” she says, sliding into her chair with a warm smile. “Tony has been far more tolerable ever since you came around and started helping him in the lab, so I owe you big time.”
Having been assured that all three Starks are fine with his presence, Tony watches as Peter slowly, slowly starts to let his guard down.
After breakfast, Peter’s face lights up when he spots the large bin of Legos sitting amidst Morgan’s toys. Morgan herself isn’t very into Legos, and Tony has stepped on enough random Legos around the house to make him consider donating the whole bucket several times in the past few months. When he sees how pleased Peter is to build with them, though, it makes him glad that he’d kept them.
Peter offers to build Morgan a castle, and the two of them spend much of the day enacting an elaborate fantasy featuring knights and princesses and princess-knights and a dragon.
In the evening, Tony and Peter head down to the lab.
“Are you sure there isn’t something we should be working on right now?” Peter asks anxiously. He’s never been over to the lake house before, but he seems to have no trouble finding his way around the lab here.
“I’m sure, kid. Let’s just do something for fun, okay? You pick whatever you want to work on.”
Peter bites his lower lip. There’s no real point in them building anything; they both know that. Their days are numbered. Soon, everything within these four walls — themselves included — will be reduced to dust and rubble.
“Uh, you…you built suits for Spider-Man before, right? Can we build one of those?”
“Oh, so you’re a Spidey fan?” Tony remarks, already pulling up the schematics on his tablet. “Should I be offended that you chose his suit over an Iron Man suit?”
“Sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter grins, not seeming sorry in the least bit. “I’m from Queens. Gotta be loyal to my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”
As they tinker around for the next few hours, Tony finds himself wondering about this version of Peter, who banters with him, smiles often, and even laughs once or twice.
His thoughts must show on his face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Peter asks, fidgeting with a mock-up webshooter.
“Like what?” Tony asks, trying to feign ignorance.
Peter snorts, not buying it. “Like I’m Spider-Man’s web fluid — an equation you can’t solve.”
Tony sighs. He knows he needs to tread lightly, given how past conversations like this have gone with Peter.
“First of all, I am extremely close to solving that web fluid formula, I’ll have you know. And second of all…it’s nothing. Just…you’ve been different since you got here.”
Peter’s shoulders tense, but he doesn’t withdraw from the discussion immediately, which is progress.
“In a good way,” Tony adds quickly. “You seem more comfortable here than I’ve ever seen you before. It’s nice.”
“Yeah, well…to your point, it’s the end of the world. No need to worry about social conventions anymore, right?” Peter shrugs.
“I guess I just don’t understand why you were worried about social conventions in the first place,” Tony muses. “Was I doing something to make you uncomfortable?”
Peter sighs. “You weren’t doing anything wrong. I just — I just don’t really want to be close to anyone.” His next words are matter-of-fact, like he’s recited them many times to himself. “I’m…not a good person to be around.”
Tony shakes his head automatically. He knows, deep in his gut, that that’s not true at all.
“Peter —” he protests, but Peter holds a hand up to stop him.
“I’ve made some really bad mistakes in the past,” Peter says solemnly. “Mistakes that have gotten other people hurt. So I figure it’s just better for everyone if I go through life alone from now on.”
But Tony has a counterargument ready, and it’s a pretty damn good one in his opinion.
“Maybe you’re forgetting, but you’re talking to Tony Stark, kid. King of horrible mistakes over here.” He points at himself for emphasis. “Do you think I deserve to be alone?”
“No!” Peter insists immediately. “No, that’s different, because — because —”
“Because what?” Tony challenges. “Because I’m not you? And it’s easier to be empathetic toward someone else’s mistakes and be hard on yourself for yours?”
Peter opens his mouth and then shuts it again. They’re quiet for a long moment, and Tony chooses his next words carefully.
“I’ve been where you are many times, kid. Hell, I still don’t know why my friends and family stick around after all these years. It’s tough. But you deserve to have people in your corner…just as much as I do.”
In a way, he feels like the advice he’s just given Peter is a culmination of all the wisdom he’s acquired in his 53 years of being alive.
It’s nice to help someone who is struggling with the same problems Tony himself has dealt with. If the universe wasn’t about to end, Morgan would’ve undoubtedly needed advice from him too as she entered adulthood. She wouldn’t face the same issues that Tony did, though. He doesn’t think self-doubt would be a problem for his girl in the way it’s been for Tony.
In the way it is for Peter.
“I’m going to head to bed,” Peter says, abruptly changing the topic as he’s wont to do whenever anything gets too emotionally charged.
“Sleep well,” Tony says simply, allowing the conversation to fall away. “If you ever want to talk…I’m here, Pete.”
He doesn’t bother pointing out that he won’t be here for much longer, and neither does Peter.
***
Pepper is waiting for him when he heads upstairs for bed.
“So what’s the deal with the kid?” She asks as he crawls under the covers. Morgan is snoring steadily in between them.
“The deal? There’s no deal,” Tony denies automatically.
Pepper gives him a skeptical look. “I have an intern too, you know. Lakshmi, remember? Notice how she’s not here right now, but your intern is?”
Tony shrugs. “Lakshmi probably has a family to go to at a time like this. As far as I can tell, Peter doesn’t.”
Pepper falls silent for a moment. “Is he…is he yours, Tony?” She asks.
It’s such a startling question that he laughs with disbelief, the sound a little too loud in the quiet room.
They both pause for a few long seconds, waiting to make sure that he hadn’t woken Morgan up.
“You can tell me if he is, Tony,” Pepper continues, her tone earnest. “I wouldn’t be upset if you found out you had a kid from before we got together. I would just want you to be truthful with me.”
“Is he mine? No way, Pep. He’s just some kid I hired a few months ago. What would make you even think that?”
Pepper shrugs. “I don’t know. There’s just something about Peter that…feels familiar. And you were so resistant to ever hiring a personal intern before, but you’ve taken to Peter like a duck to water. You can’t deny that it seems a little odd, right?”
Tony contemplates Pepper’s points. It’s a logical theory in some ways, but he’d always, always been careful to use protection back in those days, not wanting to pass along his shitty genes and inability to be a good parent (or so he’d thought at the time).
On the other hand, it is sort of strange how quick he’d been to choose Peter as his intern, despite the fact that the kid himself didn’t even want the job in the first place.
Still…the whole idea is preposterous.
“He’s not mine, Pep,” he says firmly, shaking his head.
“Okay, Tony,” Pepper says softly. “Okay.”
But he lays awake for the next few hours turning the possibility over in his mind.
***
Peter emerges from the guest room the next day quieter than he was the day before, which Tony had been anticipating after their late-night discussion. He’s wrapped up in a red hoodie that has been sitting in the closet of the guest room for quite some time now. Tony can’t remember where it came from or who it belongs to — maybe Harley? There’s some random stuff strewn around that room that seems like it might be Harley’s, but Tony can’t recall the last time Harley had stayed over. Maybe it had happened in the aftermath of the battle, and he’d been comatose or too out of it to notice.
Regardless, Peter seems to like the mysterious red hoodie. He burrows into it over breakfast, picking silently at his eggs and toast.
Tony tries not to stare at the kid, but about a million questions are spinning around his head on a loop now that Pepper has pulled the lid off Pandora’s box.
Who are you? Where did you come from? Why do I feel like I’ve known you for much longer than three months?
Fortunately, Morgan enlists Peter in a game of hide-and-seek after they finish eating. From there, it’s easy enough to slip down to the lab with Peter’s glass from breakfast as a DNA sample.
He feels a little guilty for sneaking around and testing his theory behind Peter’s back. But now that Pepper has planted the idea in his head, he has to know for certain.
He holds his breath while FRIDAY runs the paternity test.
“Negative, Boss,” she reports, and he lets out a long, heavy sigh of…some unidentified emotion.
It hadn’t been so terrible, the idea of Peter being his son. In fact, it had almost felt right in his mind.
And yet, he can’t deny that he’s relieved — he’s trying to be the best parent possible for Morgan, and it would’ve been a crushing blow to learn that he’s been an (unintentionally) absent father for the past eighteen years to a different kid.
“Right,” he replies, leaning back in his chair. “Negative. Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”
***
The four of them spend the afternoon playing card games, starting with Go Fish. Tony catches Peter glancing his way a few times with a thoughtful expression, as though he’s turning something over in his mind and trying to come to a decision about it.
Morgan chooses Uno as their second game.
“Your turn, Mongoose,” Peter says absently, playing a blue 7 on his turn.
“You haven’t called me that in a long time,” Morgan remarks as she looks through her hand for the card she wants to use.
The storm abruptly quiets outside, and for the first time in a few days, Tony realizes how loud the wind has been.
Across the table, Peter seems to be holding his breath, staring at Morgan with a peculiar look on his face.
Tony frowns at his daughter, and he sees that Pepper’s expression mirrors his own confusion.
“What do you mean, honey?” Pepper asks. “You just met Peter a few days ago.”
Morgan tilts her head thoughtfully as she considers the question. “I dunno,” she shrugs, smirking as she plays a Draw 4 wild card.
Peter deflates slightly in his seat, and the wind picks up again as Tony draws his four cards.
***
It’s clear that the storms are getting worse.
Tony ventures outside to check on Gerald after dinner, and he’s legitimately afraid that he might lose his way through the blinding wind and snow on his way back to the house.
He plasters on a smile for Morgan when he steps back inside, numb with cold from the brief excursion outdoors.
“I think we should have a slumber party in the living room tonight, Little Miss. What do you say?”
The lake house is old — they’d done renovations when they moved in, updating and re-sealing everything, but it’s a big space, and it’s hard to keep the upstairs heated. If they all stay down here in the main living area near the fireplace, they’ll be much warmer while they sleep.
Of course, Morgan is thrilled by the idea and needs no convincing. She makes popcorn with Pepper while he and Peter carry down a couple of mattresses and lots of blankets and pillows. Eventually, they all settle in to watch some Disney movies, with Pepper and Morgan curled up on a mattress together, Peter camped out on the couch, and Tony in his recliner. It should be weird to have an almost-stranger encroaching on their family movie night, but it isn’t.
And the whole thing is really an illusion for Morgan’s sake at this point. He can see that Pepper and Peter both understand that things are growing dire. He watches, his heart aching, as Pepper holds Morgan close, shutting her eyes in a way that he knows indicates that she’s holding back tears. Peter is silent on the couch, his gaze distant as he watches the screen.
Tony dozes off sometime during Moana. When he wakes up, everyone else is asleep, and the TV is off. The fire needs another log, so he clambers out of his chair, ignoring how his back aches, and crosses over to the fireplace.
“Tony?” Peter murmurs from the couch, pushing himself into a sitting position and looking around. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, Pete. I’m just building up the fire. Go back to sleep, okay?”
Peter hums, laying down again. But his eyes remain open, and he tracks Tony’s progress as he returns to his chair.
“Tony?” He repeats quietly.
“What’s up, kid?” Tony replies, keeping his voice equally low. He reclines the seat, settling his blanket over himself. His eyelids are heavy, especially after last night’s restless sleep, but he doesn’t want to miss whatever Peter is about to say.
“Do you…do you ever feel like you’re forgetting something?” Peter asks. “Like something is missing?”
Something in his tone gives Tony pause. It seems like a simple enough query, but there’s a deliberate casualness about it that feels forced. He recalls all of Peter’s long silences and questioning glances throughout the day, and he can’t help but wonder if this is related. And Peter’s voice doesn’t sound sleepy the way Tony’s does — almost like he’s been lying awake the whole night, pretending to sleep.
“No, I think all my marbles are more or less accounted for, kid, although Pep might beg to differ some days. Why do you ask?”
Peter is silent, and Tony’s stomach sinks for some reason.
“No reason,” Peter says, a few beats too late to come across as nonchalant. “Good night.”
He rolls over so that his face is turned away from Tony.
Tony feels like he’d failed an important test with his answer.
But what is Peter really asking? He feels like the solution to the puzzle is staring him in the face, but he can’t zoom out far enough to see the full picture.
There’s still so much he doesn’t understand about his intern, and he’s running out of time to make sense of it all.
Wait a second, is his last thought before he drops off to sleep, did Peter just call me Tony?
***
It’s cold and bright when he wakes up the next morning. Pepper is shaking his shoulder, her expression grave.
“The power is out, Tony,” she tells him. “And FRIDAY is offline.”
He swears under his breath, sitting up. Peter and Morgan are both still sleeping, and Pepper has added more wood to keep the fire blazing. They have plenty of wood stored on the back porch, so warmth won’t be a problem. But it makes him uncomfortable to know that the arc reactor technology that powers FRIDAY and the house has failed.
It takes a lot for an arc reactor to stop working, and he can only assume that the universe has become so unstable that it’s affecting the earth’s electromagnetic field in unprecedented ways. With enough time, he might be able to get things up and running again, but…it’s a bad omen, to say the least.
All they can really do is carry on as usual. As Tony chops up some strawberries (the last of their supply of fresh produce), he can’t help but wonder if this will be the last time he ever prepares breakfast.
“It’s cold, Daddy,” Morgan remarks, wandering into the kitchen with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape.
His eyes fill with tears at the precious sight of her, and he turns back to the cutting board so she doesn’t see his face.
“We’ll stay cozy by the fire today, okay, baby?” He tells her, his voice breaking slightly at the end of the statement.
He pours Morgan a bowl of cereal and milk (no cooking since the power is out), and sits with her at the table as she eats, drinking every detail of her small face in.
“Daddy?” Morgan asks, pushing her empty bowl away and turning to face him. “When can we play outside again?”
It’s hard to speak when she’s looking at him with that trusting expression.
“I’m not sure, Little Miss.”
“When can I go back to school? I miss Caroline, and gym class, and Ms. Ramirez.”
Tony should’ve known that these questions would come up eventually — Morgan has always been perceptive for her age. But he finds himself at a loss for how to answer — does he lie to preserve her feelings of safety for as long as possible? Or will that be a betrayal to her in the final moments when it becomes clear that something big and scary is happening to them?
Part of him wishes Pepper was in the room to help with this conversation. Another part is glad to spare her from it.
“We’ll have to wait and see what happens, honey,” he says vaguely.
He can tell that Morgan isn’t buying it.
“But we’re going to be okay, right, Daddy?” She asks, looking directly at him with big, trusting eyes.
Tony is almost grateful for the sudden urgent pounding sound at the front door. It spares him from answering an impossible question. He presses his watch to activate a gauntlet, purely out of habit, before remembering that FRIDAY is offline, so his tech is useless.
“STARK!” A booming voice calls from the front porch. “Open up!”
***
Strange looks exhausted as hell, like he hasn’t slept a wink since this mess began.
“Well, you’d better come in,” Tony greets him, making his tone as annoyingly chipper as possible because he knows it’ll piss off the sorcerer. “I’d offer to take your coat, but you probably want to keep it, given the weather.”
“What the hell did you do, Stark?” Strange snarls, grabbing Tony by the collar.
Tony has no desire to get involved in a brawl without his Iron Man tech. He holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“Easy there, Strange. For once in my life, I actually haven’t done anything. Why don’t we use our words like grown-ups, okay?”
Strange glares at him for a long moment, then lets go of Tony’s collar.
“Very well. Then explain why the epicenter of this disaster has shifted to your location,” Strange commands.
Tony can only shrug, bewildered. “Your guess is as good as mine, Gandalf. What do you mean, my location?”
“The worst of the disturbance was originally emanating from New York City. As of a few days ago, it started shifting away. Now it’s here. In this town. Which I don’t think is a coincidence, do you?”
Tony doesn’t appreciate being accused of accelerating the apocalypse. “Like I already said, I haven’t done anything, Strange. I don’t know the first thing about magic, and I’m proud of it.”
“Wait a second,” Peter interrupts suddenly. “This is all being caused by magic?”
Strange spares him a brief glance, ignores him, and returns to scowling at Tony.
“You better be telling the truth, Stark,” he threatens. “Because all our lives depend on it.”
“I’m telling the truth,” he says, and he hopes the honesty is clear on his face. He’s just as lost as the wizard is as to why this sleepy little town is the new source of the universe’s destruction. “I don’t know anything about your spell.”
“This has to do with a spell?!” Peter interjects, more urgently this time. “Why didn’t you mention that earlier?”
“Who the hell is that?” Strange asks irritably. “And why does he keep interrupting?”
“That’s my intern,” Tony replies, watching Peter with bewilderment. The kid appears to be extremely agitated, his face as pale as snow, his fists tugging at his hair.
“What spell?!” Peter demands suddenly, far more assertively than Tony has ever heard him speak before.
“I don’t have time for this,” Strange snaps impatiently. “We have only moments before things go critical, by my estimation. Maybe less than that. I must do what I can to hold things together for as long as possible.”
“Dr. Strange, wait —” Peter cries.
He’s too late — Strange conjures a portal and steps through without a backward glance.
Peter appears to be on the verge of a panic attack now, pacing and muttering under his breath to himself. When he looks up, his eyes are wild, like he’s trapped in a living nightmare — which isn’t too far off from the truth, Tony supposes. Pepper and Morgan watch him with twin confused, frightened expressions.
“Tony,” Peter says, his voice ragged and pleading. “What spell is Strange talking about?”
“I don’t know, bud,” Tony explains, trying to use a calm tone in hopes of diffusing some of the tension in the room. “Strange doesn’t even know. Apparently he cast some spell about a year ago, and it destabilized the universe’s timeline.”
“Oh god,” Peter breathes. “Tony, I know what’s causing —”
He doesn’t get to finish his statement, because the windows of the living room shatter at once, glass and debris flying through the air as they all frantically seek shelter — Peter ducking behind the couch, Tony pulling Morgan into his arms and crawling next to Pepper under their large oak dining table.
Cold air bursts through the new openings in the house, swirling around them and stealing Tony’s breath from his lungs. It’s mid-morning, but the sky outside is an ominous purple-black color. The end is near; he somehow knows it in his bones, and the wail of the wind rises to a fever pitch.
“Peter!” Tony calls, relieved when he sees the kid making his way over from behind the couch, crawling over glass to reach them. “Take it easy, kid; don’t cut yourself —”
“I’m Spider-Man!” Peter yells.
Tony frowns at the odd remark. Had Peter hit his head?
“You used to know me!” Peter continues insistently. “Until a spell made you forget me!”
Tony stares at him uncomprehendingly. He’d never met Peter until a few months ago. He trusts his own memory, and he finds it hard to believe that he would have completely forgotten knowing Spider-Man’s identity — especially given how young Peter is. He’s been making Spidey tech for years now. To his recollection, the two of them have never spoken beyond exchanging suits and sometimes collaborating on the battlefield.
“I didn’t know you until three months ago,” he says, shaking his head with alarm as he clutches Morgan tighter in his arms. Maybe this is Peter’s frantic and strange attempt to cope with the universe’s imminent destruction?
“Please, Tony!” Peter begs. He’s reached the table now, and he grabs onto Tony’s sleeve with one bloodied hand, pure desperation in his voice and on his face. “You have to try to remember! I think the memory spell is what’s causing all of this! Maybe we can fix it if you just remember!” He gestures around at the chaos and destruction that surround them.
Tony stares at Peter but feels no recognition, no familiarity beyond the past few months. He hates the broken, pleading look on Peter’s face, but that’s because he feels horrible that he can’t protect Peter from what’s about to happen. He’s still a kid, just like Morgan, and he doesn’t deserve to feel this scared — to have his life ripped away so early.
“I’m sorry, kid,” he says.
Peter’s face crumples, but he doesn’t stop trying. “Please — you know me! We used to work in the lab together on Wednesdays and Fridays. You love olives on your pizza! We were — we were supposed to go on a trip to Italy after I graduated high school!”
Tony has never had high school interns, and anyone could probably Google his favorite pizza toppings.
“You were going to show me the beach your mom used to take you to near Genoa!” Peter says earnestly, his eyes filled with tears. “Please, Tony! I know this sounds crazy — but you have to trust me!”
The beach thing is a little harder to dismiss — he can’t think of how any paparazzi or reporters would’ve learned of it. But this isn’t really what he wants to be thinking of in his final moments. He wants to hug his wife and daughter close and keep them safe for as long as he possibly can.
“Get under here, Peter,” he says, patting the open spot under the table. “We’ll be together. It’ll be okay; I promise.”
Peter only deflates under Tony’s attempts to be comforting. He shakes his head, backing away.
“I have to find a way to fix this,” he says, his voice determined. “It’s my fault that all of this happened in the first place.”
“Peter, no!” He yells. “Get back here!”
But Peter doesn’t listen — he turns and runs out the front door, toward the eye of the storm.
***
“Tony, you can’t!” Pepper hisses as they shelter under the table. “It’s not safe!”
You’ll die out there, he knows she wants to say. She looks pointedly at Morgan, who’s crying with fright in her arms.
Tony knows that she’s right — it would be foolish — downright suicidal — to leave the shelter of the house and pursue his intern in these conditions, especially without a suit. And his daughter is right here needing his protection.
He nods at Pepper in agreement, but inside, he’s at war with himself. He’s not sure what had gotten into Peter just now, but he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to the kid, and he feels a strong instinctive pull to protect Morgan, Pepper, and Peter.
He sits back on his heels, but the urge to get up and go buzzes impatiently in his limbs. He’s never been good at sitting around idly when someone is in danger.
Morgan’s teddy bear had been sitting on the couch, and in the chaos, it had been knocked to the floor a few feet away from them. To give himself something to do, Tony carefully crawls forward a few feet, intending to grab the bear and offer it to Morgan as a source of comfort. When he reaches down to grab the bear, however, something flutters toward him on a gust of wind, landing on the ground right in front of him.
Oddly entranced, he picks it up. It’s a photo — one that has been sitting at the back of a shelf in the kitchen for the past several years. The frame must’ve broken when the windows blew out, and the wind had carried the picture over to him.
He can’t remember, now, why he has this photo and why he’s kept it for so long. It’s a picture of himself and Spider-Man holding a Stark Industries internship certificate upside down. Tony is doing bunny ears on Spider-Man, who is wearing a suit Tony had made him. Like he’d told Peter a few moments earlier, he’d only met the guy a few times to give him suits and fight alongside him, and they must’ve taken this photo on one of those rare occasions.
He’s not sure why, but he feels compelled to keep looking at the photo, even though he’s being buffeted by cold wind now that he’s out from under the table. He grips the picture tightly between his fingers, determined not to let it blow away, and he stares at the image again.
It’s a mundane photo, but its implications are bizarre. What was the deal with the fake internship certificate? And the bunny ears? And why had he framed this and put it in his kitchen?
“I’m Spider-Man!”
He gets the same feeling he’s had all week — like he’s looking at a small piece of a much larger puzzle.
Stark Industries Internship Program, the certificate says.
His thoughts turn to Peter — a real intern, and another puzzle with pieces hidden beyond Tony’s sight.
“Peter is Spider-Man,” he says out loud, testing the idea, trying to make sense of it. The noise of the storm covers up the sound, but he says it anyway.
And then…
He knows the wind is still howling, but the sound fades from his ears. His heart begins to beat faster, its rhythm like a ceremonial drum in his chest. A sudden, sharp headache threatens to split his skull open. He shuts his eyes against the pain, against the onslaught of… something piercing his mind.
It’s gone as quickly as it had appeared, and when he’s finally able to open his eyes again, he doesn’t see Spider-Man in the photograph he’s holding.
He sees Peter.
And just like that, it all comes flooding back to him.
***
“PETER!” Tony stands on the front porch, shouting so loudly he thinks he might tear his vocal chords. The roaring wind steals his cry away nonetheless.
He squints through the dark, miserable vista ahead of him. Freezing rain mixed with snow lashes down, pelting his skin like sharp bits of metal. Debris and tree branches are swirling around in the air as though they weigh less than matchsticks. He narrowly dodges the lethal trajectory of a shingle that’s been blown off the roof.
He spots the orange glow of Strange’s magic in the middle of the field out back, and that allows him to track down Peter.
The kid — his kid — is fighting his way toward Strange, head bowed as he struggles to move forward with the storm pressing him backward.
“PETER!” He screams again, utterly uselessly, before vaulting off the porch and fighting to catch up.
It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever done, physically. A few feet of snow have accumulated over the past weeks, and Tony feels like he’s wading through quicksand as he trudges along. A peculiar rift seems to be growing overhead, splitting the sky open, and the wind is intensifying to the point where Tony is certain he’s going to be lifted off his feet and smashed into the ground. And yet, contradictorily, gravity seems to have increased, like a heavy weight is pushing down on his spine.
But he presses on, only one thought in his mind — to get to his kid.
Fortunately, he closes the distance on Peter rapidly. He remembers now that Peter’s spider DNA makes his bones lighter, and he weighs less than he looks like he would. He’s probably in very real danger of getting blown away.
Tony is almost within shouting distance when his blood runs cold.
It seems to happen in slow motion. He opens his mouth to call out a horrified warning, but it’s too late. An entire tree that’s been ripped up by its roots sails through the air and crashes right into Peter, sending him flying backward. He hits the ground hard and doesn’t get up.
Tony breaks into a sprint. It seems to take forever, like running in a dream, but finally — finally — he collapses to his knees in front of Peter’s prone form.
“No, no, no,” he murmurs in fervent denial, cupping Peter’s cold, pale face with his hands. He can feel a pulse when he touches the kid’s neck, but Peter doesn’t stir when Tony calls his name. “Peter, please,” he begs. “Wake up, kid.”
To make matters even worse, the tear in the sky is growing by the second, like a monstrous mouth that’s about to swallow them whole in its black maw. There’s nowhere to run to. No secret aces hidden up his sleeve. No Avengers coming to save the day.
All Tony can do is gather Peter into his arms one last time. He’s struck by the sudden recollection of when they’d been in this exact position once before, back on Titan — Peter falling, limp, and Tony holding him helplessly and feeling his entire world crumble and disintegrate as Peter’s body did the same.
How could he have ever forgotten Peter? His kid, with a sunny smile and terrible science puns and a heart of gold?
His son that he’d lost and found once before, and now lost and found once again.
It’s cruel beyond measure.
A million memories play through his mind — Peter, sitting next to him in the backseat of the car after the fight in Germany with the rogue Avengers. Peter, smiling sheepishly at him in the lab, his hands completely stuck to the lab bench from a new formula of his web fluid he’d been testing out. Peter, eating a slice of pizza next to him on the couch and mouthing the words to The Return of the Jedi. Peter, following him to Titan, stubborn and loyal to the end. Peter, sitting next to his bedside in the hospital during his long, slow recovery, reading The Hobbit out loud to pass the time. Peter, holding a tea party with Morgan in the yard on a sunny fall day. Peter, suddenly completely disappearing from his memory and consciousness a year ago.
He wraps his arms tighter around Peter in a futile attempt to shield him from the imminent destruction. He wonders if it will feel cold, or hot, or if it’ll just be like getting ripped apart into a million tiny pieces.
If he’s going to die now, at least he’ll die knowing both of his children.
He allows the thought to offer him a meager hint of comfort. He thinks about the conservation of matter, about death and physics, about how their bodies came from stardust and will return to stardust.
If we can’t all be together in this universe, he thinks, desperately picturing Pepper and Morgan’s faces alongside Peter’s, let us be together in another one.
A kinder one.
“Please,” Tony begs a universe that has never shown him a single ounce of mercy, tears running down his cheeks. “Please. I remember. I remember.”
Then he presses his forehead against Peter’s and waits for the end to come.
***
The change happens so suddenly that it’s impossible to miss.
Seemingly at once, the incessant noise around them is replaced by deafening silence. Tony’s ears ring with the absence of sound, and he feels blinded by the light that filters through his closed eyelids.
He remains frozen in place, struggling to process the abrupt sensory deprivation. After a moment, he becomes aware that the bottom of his right foot hurts — he’d felt shards of broken glass pierce the soles of his shoes in the house earlier, but hadn’t paid it any mind. And Peter’s weight in his arms is still solid.
If this is an afterlife of some kind, it’s unlike anything he’d ever imagined, in his rare moments of contemplating what occurs after death.
All he can bring himself to do is continue to huddle protectively over Peter, terrified to open his eyes and see what’s happened.
“TONY!” The faintest call in the distance brings him back to himself. That’s Pep’s voice, and there’s no way he can ignore it. Not when he doesn’t know if she and Morgan are okay.
Bracing himself, he opens his eyes to see…
Light.
Soft, dazzling light. It’s weak, but it carries the unmistakable faint warmth of the winter sun.
“Pep?” He calls, his voice too soft and hoarse at first. “PEP?” He yells, louder. He almost collapses when he sees her standing on their mostly-destroyed porch, clutching Morgan in her arms and waving frantically.
Alive. They’re both alive.
Actually, they’re all alive. All four of the members of the Stark family. And he can see Strange in the distance, picking his way through the debris to get to them.
Peter stirs in his arms, and Tony’s gaze snaps down to assess the kid. His kid.
Peter’s temple is bruised and streaked with blood from a cut, but it’s looking better by the moment. Super healing, Tony remembers.
“I-I don’t understand,” is all Tony can stammer when Strange approaches. “Is it over?”
“It’s over,” he confirms, seeming just as shell-shocked as Tony feels. “You broke the spell by remembering. Now I remember too.”
“What in the hell happened? Why would you cast a spell to make us forget Peter?” Tony accuses, clutching Peter protectively to his chest as though the sorcerer might start flinging more spells at the kid left and right.
To his credit, Strange looks genuinely chagrined. “His identity as Spider-Man had been revealed, and it was becoming dangerous for his loved ones. He asked for a spell that would make people forget his identity, but it got out of control. It was my spell, and I…I take full responsibility for it.”
“Taking responsibility for it doesn’t mean that you’re forgiven for ruining my kid’s life and almost destroying the universe, Strange!” Tony yells, gearing up for a good shouting match.
Where has Peter been this past year? All on his own, with no friends or family at his side?
And…oh god, May.
It had been tragic when Happy’s girlfriend had died so suddenly, but now to know that that was Peter’s aunt—
He isn’t sure if he wants to cry, throw up, or punch the sorcerer first.
“I believe the spell has stabilized now.” Strange ignores his outburst, and his tone becomes irritatingly aloof once more. “It’s weaker now. The average person should not remember that Peter is Spider-Man, but those who knew him well may be able to remember him.”
“Oh, well, that makes up for everything, then,” Tony drawls sarcastically. “It’s all perfectly fine —”
“Stark, I have more important things to do than dry your tears. A great magical disturbance has just occurred, and I must return to the Sanctum immediately to confirm that this universe will recover. We can discuss this further once we’re sure the danger has passed.”
Without another word, Strange conjures a portal and disappears through it.
“Unbelievable,” Tony hisses under his breath. He’s going to take Strange up on the offer to have a discussion — and then some, that’s for sure.
“Tony!” Pepper gasps, panting as she draws up, Morgan still in her arms.
To Tony’s surprise, she gently lets Morgan down and hurries forward to hug Peter, not Tony.
“You remember too?” Tony asks, his heart soaring hopefully.
Pepper nods, her eyes filled with tears. “But how…how did we ever forget him?”
“The spell,” Tony tells her. “Strange cast a spell to make us forget, and that’s what caused all of this.”
“I remember too!” Morgan pipes up. “He’s my big brother!”
“That’s right, Morguna,” Tony nods.
Peter shifts again, waking up this time, blinking and staring up at them in a daze as he pushes himself into a sitting position. The cut on his head has completely closed already. “What — what happened?” He mumbles, squinting at the sunlight in bewilderment, as though seeing it for the first time in his life. “Where’s Dr. Strange?”
He looks at Tony for answers, but Tony suddenly finds himself overcome by the reality of the situation. He thinks about all the nights he’d tucked Morgan in, kissed Pepper good night, and climbed into bed this past year, completely oblivious to the fact that Peter was suffering somewhere miles away, alone, believing that he had no one left who loved him.
“Strange left, Peter,” Pepper says gently, her hand resting on Peter’s shoulder. “Because Tony remembered you, and it broke the spell.”
Peter looks around at each of their faces before his gaze comes to rest on Tony, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Wh-what?” He stammers.
Tony nods, clearing his throat, which is almost too tight to speak. “We remember you. All three of us. Strange too.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t see you for a whole year, Petey!” Morgan pipes up indignantly, pouting. “You were supposed to come to my kindergarten play, don’t you remember? I was the dancing apple tree!”
Peter’s eyes slide shut — perhaps Morgan’s genuine reaction is far better proof than anything Tony or Pepper could ever say to convince him. When he opens his eyes a few seconds later, they’re red-rimmed.
“I do remember, Mo. I’m so sorry I missed it.”
Morgan appears to consider this. “That’s okay,” she shrugs, easily forgiving him. “You can come this year. I’m going to be a singing rocket.”
She curls up against his side, and Pepper wraps her arms around both of them. Tony follows suit, and just like that, his whole world is held in the circle of his arms. He lets out a contented breath, even though Morgan’s elbow is jammed against his ribs and Peter’s hair is tickling his cheek.
Peter had been erased from their memories for a year, their property is half-destroyed, and things aren’t even remotely close to okay. But Tony somehow feels better than he’s felt since last November now that the missing piece of his family has returned.
***
“Tony,” Pepper says quietly a few minutes later, taking his arm and pulling him away from the kids. “I need you to focus on getting FRIDAY back online. I need to get in touch with SI’s leadership team so we can start disaster relief efforts.”
He can’t seem to keep his eyes off of Peter and Morgan — the two of them together is such a perfect sight, one that he hadn’t even known he was missing all this time. He’d done a few quick tests to make sure that Peter hadn’t gotten a concussion when the tree hit him, and he’d come back with a clean bill of health, but part of Tony is still afraid that it’s too good to be true.
“I’m sorry,” Pepper sighs. “I know you want to be with Peter right now. But I need just this one thing first.”
Selfishly, he doesn’t want to let Peter or Morgan out of his sight for the next few days — or perhaps years or decades — but he knows that Pepper’s instinct is right. They don’t know the full extent of the damage yet, but he knows Pepper will do all she can to help anyone who has been affected by the storms and disturbance of the past few weeks, and it’s his job to enable her by getting their communications back online.
“Pete, you want to head down to the lab and help me get FRIDAY up and running?” He calls.
To his surprise, Peter’s expression is both reluctant and guilty. “Um…I should probably start clearing away some of this debris,” he mumbles, gesturing to the destruction around them.
Tony automatically opens his mouth to protest, but Pepper beats him to the punch. “That’s very kind of you. Do you mind keeping an eye on Morgan while I clean up the glass inside?”
Peter nods his head, looking relieved.
“Give him some space,” Pepper counsels him as they walk to the house together. “Poor boy has a lot to process.”
“I just don’t want him blaming himself for all of this. And I don’t want him slipping away and disappearing,” Tony confesses, looking over his shoulder to check that Peter hasn’t vanished. Peter is already busy moving a large tree branch away from the long driveway leading to the house, Morgan pointing and directing him.
Pepper smiles. “Why do you think I asked him to watch Morgan? He won’t leave while he’s responsible for her, trust me.”
“I know, it’s just — I let him down, Pep. He was alone all this time. I want to fix everything.”
“We all let him down, Tony,” Pepper sighs, shaking her head. “But sometimes fixing things means giving people a little space and being there for them on their own terms. Give him a few hours to work things out in his head. After all, we have time now.”
They pause for a moment on the porch and look out at their property. He wraps his arm around Pepper, immensely thankful for her steady presence by his side. The sunlight is growing stronger by the moment, illuminating the kids’ silhouettes, and it could almost be a normal winter day, were it not for the glass underfoot, the fallen trees, and crooked fence posts.
They have time. It’s a strange thing to think about. Ever since this disaster began, he’d been grappling with the idea that time was a very finite resource, about to run out any day for them all. In some ways the anticipatory grief had been a blessing — it had made him love more and think about everything he was grateful for — everything he stood to lose.
And now they’ve been given all that time back. It’s a staggering gift, and he feels like his heart might burst from how full it is.
“We have time,” he agrees. He kisses Pepper on the temple and heads down to the lab, dutifully setting to work. After that, the rest of the day is a blur. He begins with FRIDAY, and once she’s online, he starts calling people — Rhodey, Happy, Bruce, Harley, Steve Rogers in his retirement home, Sam Wilson. None of them answer, but he leaves messages anyway, hoping they’ll get back to him as soon as they have reception restored on their end.
Pepper goes into work mode, and he spends the afternoon fine-tuning FRIDAY’s systems and fabricating new window panes to replace the ones that had shattered in the living room. Before he knows it, it’s dark outside. He’s got about half of the windows replaced, and he takes a quick break to feed Morgan and Peter. Peter eats quietly while Morgan chatters about all the things Peter has missed — the tooth that she lost, the pool party she had for her birthday, and the tie-dye t-shirts she made with Caroline.
“And Uncle Happy is in Hawaii right now, and Mommy said that maybe we can go on vacation to Hawaii for spring break!”
Peter flinches at the mention of Happy, probably due to the association with May, and Tony cuts in.
“Alright, time for everyone who’s missing a tooth to go to bed.”
Morgan screws up her face indignantly. “That’s discrimination, Daddy.”
Pepper should really stop allowing her to sit in on so many business calls; she’s going to be a full-fledged lawyer by the age of nine at this point.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, all dads have to go to bed soon, too. It’s been a long day for us all. Say goodnight to your brother.”
Morgan sighs, but she doesn’t protest further, which is a sign that she’s truly exhausted.
“Night, Petey,” Morgan murmurs sleepily, trustingly flinging herself in Peter’s direction for a hug.
“Night, Mongoose,” he replies softly.
The nickname had seemed odd when Peter had uttered it during their game of Uno a few days ago, but now it sounds like the most natural thing in the universe.
***
Tony can hear Pepper on the phone when he takes Morgan upstairs, still busy with SI. He tucks Morgan in, and then the moment he’s been waiting for all day is finally here.
Peter is hard at work when Tony makes his way back downstairs, which Tony supposes shouldn’t surprise him.
“You don’t have to do that, Pete,” he says as he approaches. “You’ve already done plenty today.”
Peter shrugs, carefully spreading glazing putty on the window frame so that he can place a new pane there.
“I don’t mind. It’s a nice distraction.”
Tony thinks about Pepper’s words of wisdom — about giving Peter space and time. He picks up a pane of glass and sets to work on one of the other windows in the room. He can see Peter’s shoulders relax, and they fall into their usual rhythm from the lab, both working steadily and passing each other tools and materials without words.
It’s nearly midnight when they finish the last pane, and Tony’s eyes feel gritty with exhaustion.
“Can we talk, Pete?” He asks, sinking into his usual spot on the couch. “I know it’s been a hell of a day, but we have a lot to catch up on.”
“Um, can we take a rain check on that? I should get to bed — I want to get an early start tomorrow,” Peter deflects. “I’m going to head back to the city. I’m sure there’s a lot Spider-Man could be doing in Queens right now.”
The jolt of panic that Tony feels at this announcement wakes him right back up. He’s just gotten Peter back, and the kid already wants to run off and start throwing himself into danger again! He supposes this is payback for all the similar stress he’s put Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy through over the years.
“Okay, then we can leave tomorrow,” Tony nods agreeably.
Peter frowns, looking confused. “No, I meant that I would just go back to Queens. By myself. I’ll hitch a ride. You guys don’t have to come.”
“Are you kidding me?” Tony asks with a wry laugh. “I lost you for five years, and then I lost you again for another year. I get if you want some space, but I’d like to at least be in the same postal code for a bit, bud. If you’re going to the city, we’ll come with you.”
Peter lets out a breath, seeming to brace himself for his next words.
“Actually…I think it’s best if we keep our distance, Tony. A lot has changed in the past year. I’m different. I know you want things to go back to how they used to be, but I…can’t do that.”
“Peter,” he says, standing up so they can face each other. Peter is the same height as Tony now, if not slightly taller. It’s evidence of all the time that Tony had missed with him, and he suddenly can’t hold back the question that’s been burning in his mind all day. He has to know.
“Tesoro. The whole year — why didn’t you come to me?”
The question comes out hushed, like a prayer — like a plea to change something that can never be undone.
Peter presses his lips together tightly, looking like he’s trying not to cry.
“I know I probably wouldn’t have believed you at first if you tried to explain that I forgot you, but I would’ve come around,” Tony insists, reaching out to grasp Peter by the shoulders for emphasis. “Especially once you became my intern and I knew you. You could’ve told me. God, I wish you told me.”
Peter looks away, not meeting Tony’s gaze. “May died because of me,” he says in a wooden tone. “I was — I was just trying to fix everything. To keep her and my friends safe, since everyone found out about my identity. And I messed it all up, and she died. Just like Ben.”
Tony shakes his head in fervent denial. “A robber killed Ben. Beck revealed your identity. Strange messed up the spell. And the Green Goblin killed May. Not you.”
“Yeah, well…I could’ve saved both of them, but I didn’t.” The answer sounds like something that Peter has repeated to himself many times, and Tony mentally curses Strange again. Peter has had a whole year of internalizing his guilt and shame by himself, and it’s going to be hard to convince him out of that habit.
“Shit, Pete, I’m the one who told Happy to give you the EDITH glasses for protection if I was ever incapacitated. If you want to blame anyone for this mess, blame me.”
“It’s not your fault,” Peter denies automatically.
“Then it’s not your fault either,” Tony argues with conviction. “And your aunt never would have blamed you. She was so proud of you and of Spider-Man. She truly believed in the work you were doing for Queens, Pete.”
“It doesn’t matter, Tony,” Peter says flatly, tugging his shoulders out of Tony’s grip and taking a step backward. “She’s still dead, and nothing can change that. After May…I decided I was done putting the people I love in danger. I couldn’t come to you, because I didn’t want to get you killed too.”
He finally looks up at Tony, and his eyes are filled with so much pain that it fills Tony with a desperate urge to do something. It’s the same way he feels whenever Morgan comes to him with tears in her eyes — but her problems are easier to fix. This is much bigger than a failed spelling test or playground drama.
“I think we’d all be better off if I’m on my own from now on, Mr. Stark,” Peter concludes with a weary finality in his tone, and Tony doesn’t miss the way he’s reverted to saying Mr. Stark.
“Well, I disagree,” Tony counters boldly. “In fact, I think the exact opposite is true. I don’t think you’re meant to be alone at all. And clearly, the universe agrees with me.”
A small wrinkle of confusion appears in between Peter’s eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“The spell, Pete. The universe almost self-destructed because of how wrong it was,” he says gently, reaching up to brush a bit of dried glazing putty off Peter’s cheek. His hand ends up staying there, cupping Peter’s beloved face with his scarred palm.
He looks at the scars on his hand and thinks about all he’d endured to bring Peter back from being dusted — the time travel to recover the stones, the indescribable pain of wiedling with the gauntlet, the agonizing months of recovery — all of it had been worth it to have his kid here, standing in front of him.
“So you see,” Tony declares, “you were never meant to be forgotten. The universe won’t stand for it, and neither will I.”
Peter’s eyes fill with tears. He wraps his arms around himself protectively, like he’s tempted to believe Tony’s words but can’t quite bring himself to risk it.
“I don’t want to lose anyone else. I’m scared, Tony,” he whispers. His voice is small and lonely, like Morgan’s voice after a bad dream, and as much as it hurts Tony to hear it, at least he knows how to respond to it. And Tony knows this same struggle well — the terror of letting people in, the fear of loving in case it ends in loss — it’s something he spent most of his twenties and thirties fighting tooth and nail.
“I’m here, kid. I got you, and I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, stepping forward and pulling Peter into his arms. He can feel Peter stiffen for a few seconds — putting up a token resistance — before he gives in, melting in the hug. His shoulders begin to shake with quiet sobs a minute later, and Tony holds him through it. He can feel the bumps of Peter’s spine under his fingers, and his heart, already a fragile vessel, shatters into a million tiny pieces.
How many nights had Peter gone hungry this past year? How many times had he stitched up his own injuries after patrol? How many visits had he paid to May’s grave by himself? Tony had known him for the past few months as his intern, but he hadn’t really known him.
“You don’t deserve to be alone,” he says quietly, rubbing Peter’s back comfortingly. “And you wouldn’t let any of us be alone if the situation was reversed. Let us take care of you, okay?”
Peter wipes at his eyes, drawing back a little. “I’ll try,” he agrees tentatively.
Tony smiles at his kid — who has been broken and bent by the world but persevered nonetheless — and a bit of the crushing weight of grief and guilt disappears off his chest. “That’s all I ask.”
They have a long way to go, but it’s progress. When he climbs into bed that night, he hopes that May Parker would be pleased.
***
Tony wakes up before dawn the next morning, half-afraid that yesterday had been some strange fever dream. But Peter and Morgan are both sleeping peacefully, according to FRIDAY, and he sets about packing for a trip to the city with an unusual amount of energy given the godforsaken hour.
He’d meant it when he’d said that he’d accompany Peter to the city if that was what he wanted. It would probably be utter chaos there, but it would be a better location for Pepper to coordinate the relief efforts. And he’s not letting either of his kids out of his sight for more than a few hours at a time for the foreseeable future.
He’s brewing a cup of coffee in the kitchen when he hears a knock at the front door. He’s surprised but eager to see who it is — perhaps one of their neighbors needs help, or maybe Rhodey had driven out to see if they’re okay. He doubts that Happy could’ve made it all the way from Hawaii yet, but he’s sure that his head of security is racing to come see Peter as soon as possible.
The two people standing on his porch are not who he’d expected to see, but they turn out to be exactly who he’d needed to see.
“Mr. Stark!” Ned Leeds greets him frantically, looking like he hasn’t slept in quite some time. “Where’s Peter? Have you seen him?”
“We were at school in Cambridge when we remembered,” MJ interjects. She’s clutching her necklace anxiously in one hand. “We drove all night to get here. The roads are a mess. I thought we should go straight back to Queens, but Ned said —”
“I said that we should stop here in case Peter was here. So is he?” Ned asks, wringing his hands nervously.
“He’s here,” Tony confirms, and they both sag with relief.
“Oh, thank god,” Ned exhales. “Something terrible happened, Mr. Stark! We forgot about Peter for a whole year! I feel horrible.”
“I know, Ted. Strange cast a spell, and it went awry, so he eventually ended up making everyone forget about Peter’s existence,” Tony explains.
“Where has he been this whole time? With you?” MJ asks, her expression hopeful.
“He was working as my intern for a few months, but I didn’t remember him until yesterday, either,” Tony says grimly.
MJ curses under her breath. “So he’s been alone this whole time?”
“I’m afraid so. Why don’t you come in?” Tony swings the door open.
Ned opens his mouth to say something else as he steps over the threshold, but they all freeze in place at the sound of a muffled gasp.
Tony turns around to see Peter standing at the top of the stairs, staring down at his friends with an expression of shock.
For a moment, they’re all silent. MJ is the first to move — she strides past Tony and marches up the stairs, heading straight for Peter. Tony can see the fear in Peter’s eyes as she approaches — the fear of being confronted over his absence — of being rejected.
Tony feels a bit nervous himself, unsure of what MJ is planning. It’s been a whole year, after all, and Peter’s friends are young. They might not understand that Peter had been avoiding them because he didn’t want to hurt them, not because he didn’t care about them.
But he needn’t have held his breath. At the top of the stairs, MJ throws her arms around Peter and draws him into a bone-crushing hug. Ned hurries past Tony then too, and before he knows it, the three teenagers are a teary, embracing mess on the upper landing.
“You were supposed to come find us after the spell, loser,” MJ scolds, but the nickname is clearly affectionate.
“Dude, we’ve been freaking out! We remembered everything all of a sudden yesterday and came here straightaway,” Ned adds.
“I’m sorry, guys,” Peter sniffs. “I really fucked up. I didn’t want you to be in danger because of Spider-Man anymore.”
“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Ned says, pulling Peter in for another hug.
Tony is relieved by their easy acceptance, and he can tell that Peter’s friends feel the same determination that he does to make sure that Peter never feels alone again. He has a feeling that he’s just recruited two powerful allies in Peter’s healing journey.
“Queens needs Spider-Man, but we need Peter Parker,” MJ says. She sounds a little shy — Tony doesn’t know MJ very well, but he knows that she’s not very free with her emotions.
“Okay, that was really sweet,” Ned points out. “Who are you, and what have you done with MJ?”
“Great, now I’ve been forgotten for a year, and MJ has been replaced by a pod person, according to Ned. What’s next?” Peter laughs wetly, putting an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders.
“Oh, I’m sorry, am I not allowed to be emotional about seeing Peter for the first time in a year?” MJ shoots back at Ned. “I seem to remember you playing Peter’s favorite playlist in the car and bawling your eyes out on the drive here.”
They continue bickering, and Tony shakes his head and departs for the kitchen. He needs more coffee if he’s going to whip up enough pancakes to feed a six-year-old, three hungry teenagers, and a wife who's working to put their damaged world back together again.
What’s next? Peter had asked.
Tony smiles to himself. He doesn’t know the answer to that question, but he has a feeling that they’ll all figure it out together.