Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

CANON UNIVERSE

“…did we just lose?”

Tony stared at Doctor Strange, as if he’d never seen him before. “Why would you do that?”

“We’re in the endgame now.”

---

The mismatched group of aliens and earthlings stared at the spot Thanos had disappeared in resigned silence, as they tended to their wounds. Nobody spoke, following Strange’s sinister proclamation. Not to yell at him, for giving up the stone, nor at Starlord, for losing his cool and ruining their only shot at victory.

Peter wanted to, but he didn’t think he would get the words out without bursting into frustrated tears.

The purple asshole was gone. Thanos was gone and he had the Time Stone… they’d messed it up. There was nothing more for them to do, except pray… and their prayers would go unheard. Peter knew it and the others did too. They all felt the heavy sense of finality in the air.

Mr. Stark lay a trembling hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing in a stilted attempt at reassurance. Peter’s Spidey-sense thrummed ominously.

He felt it, the moment it happened. The point of no return, the Snap signing the death warrant of half the universe.

Mantis felt it too. “Something’s happening.”

Peter’s Spidey-Sense’s ominous thrumming morphed into a wave of blaring warnings, his anxiety skyrocketing as he helplessly watched the people he’d fought with vanish in clouds of dust.

Then the physical ache started. First it was an uncomfortable, burning sensation itching underneath his skin, but then the burn became scalding, the stinging became stabbing and the stretching became tearing. He felt his atoms being forcibly pulled apart on a nuclear level and suffered through the process of them absolving into nothingness in a drawn out stretch of agony. It was excruciating, his body fighting his pending demise at every turn, but losing the battle.

And all throughout the unbearable pain he couldn’t tune out the increasingly distressing thoughts that kept on popping up without his permission. The realization that he was truly fucked this time, that they’d lost, that he’d never see May or Ned or MJ again and that he’d never graduate or go to college or get a job or marry. That he was dying and that he wasn’t ready to and that the prospect scared the shit out of him. 

But in between the fear and constant anxiety, the harrowing pain and his sorrow at losing his own life, the inconsolable look on Tony’s face was still the thing that hurt the most.

Grief-stricken didn’t fully embody the devastated, heartbroken and haunted expression on his mentor’s face. He looked as distressed and frightened as Peter felt. As despairing, guilt-ridden and pained.

“I’m sorry.” Unwilling to look at his mentor’s tortured eyes any longer, Peter flicked his gaze up at the red of the Titan sky. It had nothing on the deep blue of Earth’s. Peter wished he could’ve seen the stars, one last time.

---

DIVERGENT UNIVERSE

Reassembling hurt just as much as falling apart.

Peter came to way before the agonizingly slow process of being pieced back together was completed. The strange in-between phase between existence and non-existence was by far the trippiest feeling Peter had ever experienced.

He was conscious, but confused. Aware, but not. There, but not fully. He blinked his phantom eyes until they – eventually like the rest of his body – restored, his sight appearing blurry at first but improving rapidly.

The first clear, tangible thought that Peter managed to grasp onto, was the realization that the red of the Titan sky had gone blue. The second was that Tony wasn’t there.

Peter squinted his eyes against the bright, but also heart achingly familiar sun rays, as he peered around. He wasn’t at Titan anymore.

His surroundings looked like Earth, but he couldn’t be completely sure. All he knew was that the place he’d landed had trees and grass, resembling a clearing in some random forest, more than anything. It was also deserted.

If the snap had brought him here, he shouldn’t be alone. Half the population of the universe had been snapped out of existence, those weirdos from space and the wizard included. “Mr. Doctor Strange?” He called out. “Mr. Star-Lord? Alien Lady?” His voice cracked. “... anyone?”

It was too quiet.

“It appears we are alone, Peter.”

Peter jumped at the sudden voice, but relaxed once he recognized the diligent tones of his trusted AI. “Karen.”  He breathed. “Thank god…” his voice broke once more and Peter had to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. “What happened to us, Karen? Where are we? Where’s Mr. Stark?”

Karen sounded hesitant, as she answered. Unsure, in a way she had never been before. “We appear to be on Earth.”

“Could you… can you be any more specific?”

“I am having trouble connecting to the internet, but based on analysis of the current weather and our surroundings, which I have compared to previous footage shot in New York and surrounding areas, I’ve come to the conclusion that were are likely somewhere on the East Coast of the United States. Possibly Upstate New York.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. “How? We were… we were in space a second ago.”

“I am unable to answer that question at this time.” Peter had never heard Karen sound so unnerved. “I am trying to send an alert to Mr. Stark as per protocol, but I am unable to locate him. It appears that our connection has been broken.”

That was definitely disconcerting. In all his years of being Spider-Man, there was only one instance in which Peter had been unable to reach Mr. Stark when he needed him. That was when his suit had been taken and a warehouse had collapsed on top of him.

Peter scrambled upright, getting to his feet unsteadily. He swayed at the spot and had to lean against a mossy tree trunk to stop himself from collapsing right back to the forest floor. “Maybe he is still on Titan and out of range.” He offered weakly. “He didn’t get all dusty, so that’s possible right? That makes sense, right?”

“Until I manage to repair my connection with FRIDAY, I am afraid that I cannot say.” Answered Karen. “She, however, hasn’t responded to my attempts to reach out.”

“Okay. Okay, it’s alright. We don’t need help, we can figure this out ourselves. We got this.” Peter knew he was just trying to convince himself at this point. He was also acutely aware that they didn’t got this whatsoever. “… is there anyone else we can call?” He asked in a small voice.

“I have tried calling Mr. Hogan and Miss Potts, but my calls keep failing. It appears we  are the ones out of range.”

God, this was so messed up. “Continue trying, Karen. Try texting, perhaps. And try calling and texting May, as well please. And Ned. We have to be able to get through to someone.”

“Will do, Peter. I will alert you, if I have any success.”

The young hero waited a few more, hopeful minutes in case Karen had a miraculous break-through, but when she kept silent, he sighed. Seeing as no help was on its way, he’d have to save himself. Lazing around a random forest, be it on earth or elsewhere, wasn’t helping anyone. He was Spider-Man for god’s sake, he had to pull himself together. He was lost, not in some type of mortal danger. Ironically enough, he was probably safer right now, than he’d been all day.

Peter spun around his axis, before taking a leap of faith, by taking a lucky guess and setting off in a random direction. He had no clue where he was and which way would lead him anywhere closer to answers. All around him were trees as far as the eye could reach. Each course looked equally hopeless, to him.  

Swinging in the forest proved much more difficult than in the city, but it was decidedly faster than walking and the distraction helped keep his head clear from his tumultuous thoughts. At least, for the first couple of miles while he was still getting the hang of it. Once his moves started becoming instinctive, as if he were on autopilot, the most insistent of his thoughts resurfaced.

He had been Dusted. He was supposed to be dead. Mr. Stark had been left all alone on that alien planet, a profound sense of failure and misplaced guilt for Peter’s not-quite-death his only company…

Peter barely managed to avoid head-butting an overhanging tree branch and he quickly shook his head as if to dispel the intruding memory of his mentor’s heartbroken face. He couldn’t think of any of that right now. He’d deal with the trauma and the inevitable nightmares later.

He had to make his way out of this blasted forest and find out where he was. Then, he’d find a way home, to Mr. Stark. He’d tell him he was alright and that mournful look on his face would disappear. Everything would be fine, he just had to take one step at a time.

Peter had been swinging for half an hour, when his enhanced hearing started to pick up distant but familiar, city sounds. Now, Peter couldn’t determine his location based off his hearing alone, but he was pretty darn sure this proved he was on his home planet. He swung on with renewed vigor.

His arms were trembling violently in exertion, by the time he’d finally reached the tree-line separating the forest from the world beyond. He stumbled as he landed.

Peter’s heart clenched painfully at the sight of the skyline of New York City, in all her former glory. The seemingly untouched skyscrapers stood proud in the distance, as if there hadn’t been a hostile alien invasion just a couple of hours before.

It didn’t make any sense. That donut-like spaceship had knocked several buildings down and Peter had been gone for half a day at most. There was no way that the city had rebuilt already. New Yorkers were strong and they tended to bounce back no matter what, but this… some things were just not achievable.

“Karen, you’re seeing what I’m seeing right?”

“I am detecting what appears to be a fully intact New York City.” Karen answered dutifully.

“How… how is that possible? We weren’t gone for that long, were we?”

“I am unable to determine how this phenomenon came to pass. I can, however, hypothesize. Would you like me to come up with some theoretically possible explanations?”

Peter felt dizzy. Suddenly, getting to Mr. Stark seemed even more urgent than before. “Y-yeah. Please.”

“Seeing as we were both disengaged for an undetermined amount of time due to our temporary disintegration, it is possible more time has passed in the world around us as we previously expected.” Karen said. “Or perhaps we haven’t only teleported to another place, but also to another time.”

“You’re suggesting we’ve time travelled?”

“It is unlikely. So far, time travel is unprecedented. However, the events of today are anomalous, so in light of our current circumstances, I would need more evidence to rule this hypothesis out with certainty.”

“So you’re basically saying everything is possible, seeing as reality as we know it has already gone to shit.” Summarized Peter dazedly. “That’s reassuring.”

Karen had nothing to say to that.

Peter took a deep breath, trying to calm his erratically beating heart. Okay. Okay, this was fine. Who was he kidding, it really wasn’t, but he just had to pull himself together for a bit longer. Now was no time for a meltdown.

“Only one way to find out how screwed we are, I guess.” Now the good news was that Queens was in sight, which meant that Aunt May was close-by. The bad news, was that there weren’t any trees, which meant that walking was his only option for now. Peter grimaced in distaste. “You sure Happy isn’t available to give me a lift?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“I haven’t been able to contact Mr. Hogan.”

“Running it is, then.”

“I must caution you against that course of action, Peter. You are exhibiting signs of overexertion, dehydration and exhaustion. I strongly advice you take a break.”

“I have to get home somehow Karen. What do you suggest, I take an Uber?” He meant it sarcastically, but the moment he’d said the words, he saw the merit in them. “Wait, can you do that?”

“Usually, I could order you an Uber, yes. Unfortunately, I am still locked out of the internet due to unknown causes that I as of yet haven’t managed to uncover.”

“Sucks.” Peter pouted. “In that case, no can’t do on the resting thing, Karen. I’ve got to get home and find out what went down today and what happened to Mr. Stark, May and my friends.”

“You are still wearing your old suit and clothes underneath this one, Peter. If you dress in your civilian clothing, you could take public transportation. If we are indeed in a New York not too divergent from the one we left a few hours ago, there should be a bus stop approximately 1.4 miles away.”

Peter had to admit that he was quite tired and the bus would sure as hell be faster than walking all the way to his apartment. Maybe once he’d made it far enough into town to have buildings to swing from again, he could swing the rest of the way.

“Alright.” Peter backed into the shadows of the forest so he could change without witnesses. “but I can’t talk to you without my mask, so please give me directions first.”

Chapter Text

DIVERGENT UNIVERSE

It was an post-apocalyptic world. The city may have healed its scars physically, but the mental ones were still running deep in its inhabitants. Peter was lucky to have to wait only a few minutes for the next bus, but if the schedule hanging on the bus stop had to be believed, about half of the usual rides had been scrapped indefinitely due to lack of personnel and demand.

The entire bus shelter was decorated to the brim with missing-posters. It was eerie, the way the black and white faces smiled up at him frozenly, the question “HAVE YOU SEEN ME?” flashing in red above their pictures, name and descriptions.

It didn’t get better once he was on the bus. The driver looked as pale as Peter felt, his ghostly pallor seemingly permanently marred by dark blue crescent circles underneath his vacant gaze. Peter didn’t dare ask him what had happened. He didn’t think he needed to anyway.

There was only one other person on the bus. A man with dark hair and troubled eyes, whose smile had a strained edge when he returned Peter’s. Though usually one for small-talk, Peter let the man be, instead staring at the changed world flashing by outside the window.

The streets were emptier than he remembered them being, even this far outside of the city center. Malls and houses were boarded up, food stands abandoned and shops painted in graffiti, while their windows were covered with more missing-posters. Most people they came across looked burdened, their heads bowed and shoulders hunched, as if they were carrying an invisible weight.

The closer they got to the city center though, the more the world seemed to come back to life. Shop tenders may have disappeared, but the remaining people had taken over. Houses may have been left uninhabited, but new people moved in. The atmosphere was less dejected in the busier parts of the city, but beneath the chatter and polite smiles lay a well of loss and grief. The streets were still not as busy as they should have been and everyone was aware of it.

Peter got off at his usual stop, closest to his home. He felt torn between wanting to rush home to tell May that he was back and wanting to hold off the confrontation, due to the possibility that May could be gone, too. He stopped at Delmar’s. Mr. Delmar wasn’t standing behind the counter. Instead, a girl he’d never personally met before was tending to the customers. Peter recognized her from the pictures. She was Delmar’s daughter, Amara, if he recalled correctly.  

Amara Delmar looked as tired as everyone else Peter had passed so far, but she mustered up a smile for the lost-looking boy in front of her. “Hi, how can I help you?”

Peter ordered his usual. Somehow, the fact that he had to explain his order instead of being recognized as a regular, hammered the point of what had really went down, home. Much more than anything Peter had seen outside. “Your dad.” Peter asked, softly. “Is he…?”

The smile slid of the girl’s face. It was answer enough. “He was Blipped.”

Blipped. Was that the word that the survivors had chosen for those who had disappeared? It was such a strange word… blipped. “I’m sorry.”

“Did you know him?”

“Yeah, I used to come here a lot. Before…” Peter trailed off. “Listen, this is going to sound really weird, but how long has it been? Since the…”

Amara blinked in surprise, but she answered without much fuss. “Six months and ten days. It feels like just yesterday, doesn’t it?”

Six months. Peter had been missing for six entire months. May must’ve been going insane. And Mr. Stark…  they were both in for a heart attack when they discovered he’d survived somehow. Tony was going to ground him for life for giving him such a scare. “Do you… do you know if anyone has ever come back before? From the blip?”

The confusion on the girl’s face morphed into sympathy. “No one can come back from the blip.” She reached out over the counter to catch Peter’s hand. “I’m sorry for whoever you’ve lost. We’ve all lost someone to the blip. You’re not alone.”

Peter grimaced. He wanted to tell her what had happened to him, but he also didn’t want to give her false hope. Just because something had gone weird for him, didn’t mean the other Blip-victims would return. Peter had always been one to get in unique, arguably impossible, situations. It was his Parker Luck.

God, he needed May to be home. He had to find her and Mr. Stark and let them know he was back. His aunt must’ve been so lonely and the guilt was probably eating his mentor alive. “If something were to happen to you, I feel like that’s on me.”

“I… I have to go.” He whispered, tears pricking in his eyes. “Thanks.”

Peter turned and made to leave, but the girl walked around the counter to catch his wrist in her hand. Then, unexpectedly, she pulled him into a hug. “You’re not alone.” She said. “don’t… don’t go and do something stupid. Please. Too many good people have given in, the world can’t lose you too.”

Peter’s stomach churned painfully. She thought he was going to commit suicide. How many people had done so, that that’s where her mind went? “I am actually on my way to see how alone I am right now.”

She pulled away. “What do you mean?”

“My parents are… gone. My uncle too. But my aunt lives here. Or at least I hope she still does.” 

Understanding dawned on Delmar’s daughter. “I hope so too. But if she isn’t here… then come back and tell me. Don’t do anything rash. Promise me.”

“I’m not going to kill myself.” He said, honestly. “Dead or alive, my aunt would never forgive me.” Then, he gave Delmar’s daughter a last sad smile, before departing. He couldn’t help but think that keeping his promise would be way easier, if May were to be alive.

The elevator in his building was still out of order like always, so Peter took the stairs. He came across only a single neighbor as he climbed the stairs, but the woman didn’t have some big reaction to Peter’s presence. Maybe she didn’t know Peter had been Snapped, too busy mourning the people closest to her? She certainly looked as weary and depressed as everyone else.

Nerves had started swirling in Peter’s stomach, when he came to a halt in front of his apartment. The doormat that he and Ben had bought May for Mother’s day, years ago, wasn’t there. For some reason, Peter fixated on that, worst case scenarios flitting through his head without his permission. May could have had a million reasons to replace the doormat. The thing was old, she might’ve been mourning Peter and hated the reminder… but somehow Peter could feel that there was more to it than that.

He knocked before he could second-guess himself. The nervous swirling in his stomach was making him feel sick.

Even having feared, having known the odds, Peter felt as if the world was being swept from underneath his feet, when an unfamiliar man opened the door. His stomach sinking so low it might’ve as well dropped out of his ass, Peter opened and closed his mouth to ask for May. The words got caught somewhere along the way.

At Peter’s silence, the man raised a questioning eye-brow. “Can I help you?”

Peter pressed a hand against his chest, rubbing circles into his skin, as if that could get rid of the sudden tightness restricting his breathing.

He must’ve looked spooked, because the man standing in the doorway faltered, eyebrows knitting together in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Who’s there, Hank?” A female voice, that was decidedly not May’s, called from the kitchen.

“Just some kid.” Answered the man, Hank, eyeing Peter’s wheezing form worriedly. “I think he’s having some sort of attack.”

Peter started rubbing his chest more roughly. It was sure to bruise, but he didn’t care, his head was spinning and his heart was hurting and May… May was gone. May was gone. First his parents, then Uncle Ben and now May...

The woman living in his and May’s apartment appeared in the doorway, beside Hank. She took in Peter’s trembling form for a mere second, before she crouched down in front of the crying boy, gently wrapping a hand around his upper arm to stop him from twisting away from her. “Honey, are you alright? Can you take a deep breath in for me, please?”

Peter shook his head, his own eyes wide in panic as he stared into her kind ones. He was spiraling, he knew that and it was embarrassing, but he couldn’t stop it on his own. Not without May’s calming voice to ground him. May’s voice, which he would never hear again. 

Half the world population was gone, because of his failure. May was gone because he hadn’t managed to get that stupid glove off. And who knew how many other people he loved were dead because of his mistakes? Ned, MJ, Happy. What had happened to them? If only he’d just managed to get that stupid glove off…

“I need you to try, Honey.” Hank’s wife insisted. “I’m going to do it with you, alright? Just follow my lead.”

He wasn’t good at following orders. Tony had ordered him to get that glove off and he hadn’t succeeded. He hadn’t managed to live up to the responsibility he’d been given by Tony, as a newly made Avenger. Avengers defeated the bad guy. Avengers saved the world. Peter had taken on only one existential threat and he’d gone and messed it up. Mr. Stark was probably so disappointed…

It hit him like a ton of bricks. God, Mr. Stark! He’d been left all alone on that alien planet, with no way home. The space-donut they’d arrived in had crashed during the landing, how could Peter have been so selfish as to forget about that?

“Honey, do as I do. In… and out. Calmly. In…. and out…”

It had been half a year, so he was probably dead, wasn’t he? Tony had probably died alone, in space, because Peter had died on him. But Peter hadn’t even managed to do that properly, had he? No, he just had to come back and in instead of being relieved, his entire body was shaking with dread. He didn’t want to live, if he had to do it alone.

He couldn’t be alone, he couldn’t bear that, but he was. He had no one left. No parents. No Ben. No May. No Tony. With his luck, Ned and MJ had probably disintegrated too.

“C’mon kid,” coaxed Hank, the nickname pulling Peter from his vicious cycle, head snapping up. “Work with us here. In…” he inhaled exaggeratedly. “and out.”

Peter took in a small, shuddery breath. Hank’s wife beamed at him, while Hank continued his slow breathing pattern, until Peter’s hyperventilation ceased. 

His head clear, Peter blinked, as he took in his current position. He was sat on the dirty hallway floor, in between the two strangers inhabiting his apartment. The woman was basically hugging him, the man was rubbing soothing circles into his back. His cheeks flamed.

“Feeling better?” Asked Hank softly, taking in Peter’s flushed face.

Peter hurriedly nodded and quickly detangled himself from the two kind people, before jumping up and helping Hank’s wife up too. “Yeah.” He quickly said, voice just a tiny bit hoarse. “Yeah, I am so, so sorry about that.”

“No harm no foul.” Hank reassured him, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist. “Are you sure you’re alright? That was quite some panic attack…”

 Peter ducked his head. “Yeah, yeah, it won’t happen again.” He sheepishly massaged the back his neck, a self-soothing gesture he was prone to when uncomfortable. “Uh, you live here, right?”

The couple nodded.

May had been dead for a little over six months which was plenty of time to move in, but it still unnerved Peter that their home had been disposed of just like that, in their absence. Peter shook the thought away. “I don’t suppose you know what happened to the previous owner? A woman called May?” A very small and stupid part of him held a sliver of hope that his aunt had just moved.

“You mean… what was her name again Helen? May …. Peters, Potter…”

“Parker.” Peter filled in.

“That’s right.” Hank said. “May Parker. Never met her of course, but I heard she was a nice lady. Why do you want to know?”

“She’s my Aunt. She… we lived here.”

Helen and Hank exchanged a meaningful glance. “and you don’t know what happened to her?”

Peter just shook his head.

Helen’s eyes were filled with pity. “She died, Honey.”

No longer unexpected at this point, but a blow nonetheless. Peter couldn’t stop his voice from quivering slightly, as he asked. “Do you know what they did to her stuff?”

“I suppose everything was likely distributed according to her will? The apartment was empty when we got it.” Answered Helen.

Peter couldn’t even mourn the fact that all his things were lost. It seemed inconsequential, in comparison to the loss of the last of his family. Still, he had to ask. “What about the things she left to people that were Blipped?”

Hank and Helen shared another silent conversation, that Peter was too tired to try and understand. “Well, that depends on whom they left their stuff to, I suppose.” Said Hank. “I sincerely doubt there was some sort of clause taking something like this into account. No one could predict the Blip after all, especially so far in advance.”

Peter stilled. “What do you mean, so far?”

“Yeah, it must’ve been… God, has it been three years already?”

Helen nodded. “Yes, we moved in in December 2015. The apartment had been empty for a while, by then. Not a lot of people want to live in a home where someone has taken their own life.”

Peter choked. “What?!”

Helen’s eyes snapped away from her husband, to focus on Peter. “Oh I am sorry Honey, I am being very insensitive, this must be hard to hear.”

Peter shook his head, feeling very numb and dazed. “I saw May only six months ago.” A day ago, from his point of view.

A pregnant pause, then… “Are you sure you’re at the right address?”

“Yeah. I… I lived here. With her. Everything was fine until the Blip, she didn’t… she didn’t kill herself. She would never do that. She wouldn’t leave me like that.”

Even over the rush in his ears, Peter’s enhanced hearing picked up Helen’s whisper. “I think he’s in shock, Hank.”

“Or we’re just not talking about the same person.” Grunted the man. “Son, are you confident you’re at the right address?”

Tears welled in Peter’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Well you’re not, if you’re searching for your aunt that died only a few months ago. The May Parker that lived in our house didn’t pass in the Blip. She died years ago.”

Peter didn’t quite know what to say to that, except that it simply wasn’t possible. He’d lived with May these past few years, he’d lived those moments they claimed had never existed.

“Should we call someone?” Helen softly asked her husband, when Peter continued to just stare ahead blankly, as he struggled to comprehend what the fuck was going on. 

“There’s no one to call.” Peter’s response sounded clipped. “Aunt May was all I had left.”

“Who have you been living with these past few years, then?” Inquired Hank.

“May!”

“We should definitely call someone.”

“Maybe our neighbor could clear things up.” Hank offered, when Peter scowled at the woman. “Louise has been living here for over two decades. She’d remember best what happened exactly.”

But Peter’s interaction with Louise Williams brought about more questions than answers. It began, when the old lady Peter had always assisted with carrying the groceries,  opened the door and straight-up didn’t recognize Peter.

Peter’s smile dropped. “Mrs. Williams, it’s me.” He repeated hesitantly, eyes anxiously scanning the woman’s face for even a flicker of recognition. “Peter Parker. You know, Ben and May’s nephew?”

The new occupants of Peter’s apartment exchanged knowing glances, when Mrs. Williams smiled apologetically. “Oh, you are?”

At Peter’s confused nod, she flashed him a kind smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, Peter.”

“W-what…?”

“Do you mean to say that you’ve never met before?” Hank asked, over Peter’s shocked stammering.

Mrs. Williams nodded. “I must admit I am a bit surprised. After Ben’s death, poor May always said she didn’t have any family left.” 

Peter took a hesitant step back, shaking his head in stunned disbelief. This day was getting ridiculous, he felt like he was going around the bend.  

In what felt like a few hours to him, aliens had invaded earth, he’d gone to space and fought a large purple titan alongside a wizard, his mentor, two good-aliens and a man that had had the audacity to call Thor 'not-that-good-looking', which was a blatant lie. Then, he’d died and come back to life, only to discover that he’d somehow teleported to earth and six entire months had passed.

Now it wasn’t like Peter could look passed all that, even for a superhero that wasn’t a normal Tuesday, but still somehow the fact that two strangers lived in his apartment, his neighbor had forgotten about him and they all claimed his aunt had committed suicide in 2015, overshadowed all of that.

Because these people seemed way too nice to lie about something as important as this, the seemingly genuine Mrs. Williams had no reason to pretend Peter hadn’t ever existed, and in no world would May ever leave him behind. Especially, by taking her own life.

Helen put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “C’mon Peter, why don’t you come inside with us and we’ll talk about this.” She smiled at her neighbor. “Sorry about this Louise.”

“But… but… but that’s not true.” Peter said, desperately, shrugging Helen off. “I’ve lived here for over a decade. I… you babysat me more than once, Mrs. Williams.”

“You must be confusing me with someone else. I have never seen you before and as far as I know, May had no family. She even said so, in her suicide note.”

“Are you sure? She really killed herself? Why would she do that?” Peter’s voice cracked dangerously on the latter question and he balled his fists, fighting to keep his tears down.

“It happened not long after her husband’s death. She didn’t have anything to live for without him.”

“What about me?” Peter wanted to ask, but he didn’t. It was clear that nobody believed him when he said he’d lived here. Not his neighbor who was staring at him blankly and not the new people occupying his apartment. Helen was whispering about troubled youths and Hank was reaching for his phone. Peter had to get out of here. “Is May buried beside Ben?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. I’m very sorry for bothering you.” At that, Peter turned around and left, leaving three very confused and very worried adults behind.

The cold of the ground crept into Peter’s bones, as he sat huddled in the grass, staring at the headstones of the two people he’d loved most in the world. Two people he was now forced to consider might not have known him, like he knew them. Peter didn’t know why or how, but somehow there wasn’t a trace of him left on this world. As if he’d never existed… what if he hadn’t?

May’s grave was really there, beside Ben’s in the cemetery. Uncle Ben’s grave had once been engraved with the words “loving husband, uncle and friend”. Now, neither headstone carried a hint of Peter’s existence. No, “loving aunt” on May’s weathered headstone and Uncle Ben’s had somehow changed to only say “loving husband and friend”.

For years Peter had been burdened by the belief that Ben Parker would’ve been alive, if only he hadn’t been forced to take his stupid nephew in. It appeared that he’d been wrong. Peter evidently hadn’t been here to endanger Ben, but the date of death on Ben’s headstone was the same.

“After Ben’s death, she didn’t have anything left to live for.” Was this truly what would’ve become of May, if Peter hadn’t been in her life? Suddenly he hoped that the May he remembered, the May of his reality or universe or whatever, had been Snapped. She evidently couldn’t live without him and he didn’t want her to have to try. Sitting here, staring at May’s grave, feeling all alone in a world he wasn’t sure was his own… it hurt too much. He didn’t want May to feel like this.

Peter curled in on himself, knees pulled to his chest as he stared at the two marble headstones in front of him. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling and he didn’t even try to bite back the sobs spilling out of him. “You probably don’t even know who I am…” He whispered. “But I miss you guys.”

He thought of Ben’s ridiculous bedtime stories and the way his eyes had crinkled whenever he smiled. Thought of his uncle’s favorite songs to sing in the shower, his obnoxious habit to add too much chili in every dish and the way his hugs had made Peter feel safe. Of the soccer-shirts he’d always worn despite not even liking the sport, the lasagna-recipe he’d promised to pass on to Peter when he was a bit older… the way his blood had slickened Peter’s hands as he pressed down on his gunshot wounds, begging his uncle to stay.

Peter bit his lip, until the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. He tore his gaze away from Ben’s headstone and instead glanced at May’s. He hadn’t been there for her death, but based on Mrs. William’s words, he suspected she’d either overdosed, slit her wrists or hung herself. He didn’t know whether she’d passed in her sleep peacefully, or been violently ill before the end. If she’d passed out from blood loss which would have spared her from most of the pain or if she’d watched her own blood spread out over the tiles of the bathroom floor.  He didn’t know if she’d broken her neck quickly, or whether she’d suffered, suffocating slowly.

A sick part of him wished he’d seen it, wished he’d been by her side like he’d been there for Ben. Partly so she wouldn’t have been alone, but mainly, so he wouldn’t have to sit here, guessing, his mind conjuring up images that were likely more grotesque and horrifying than the actual incident.

He didn’t know the circumstances surrounding her death, so he focused on the things he did know about her, in life. He thought of May’s bell-like laugh and the way her eyes used to glitter in mischievous mirth whenever she teased him. The way they didn’t have a garden or balcony, but she still insisted on growing her own plants in the windowsills. He thought of the mess she’d make of the living room while searching for her keys, of her inherent kindness to people in need and the way she used to be there for him whenever he needed her.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel her hands playing with his hair and for a single beat, Peter smelled her, in the wind. Not her perfume, or the fruity shampoo she used, but that unique, indescribable scent of home, that was innately her.

The scent was gone before he’d even properly registered it, but the experience still rendered him speechless, as silent tears continued to stream down his pale face. He sat there quietly, mourning the second set of parents he’d lost, until the sun had gone down and he was shivering from the biting wind, not unusually cold for an evening in early December, but freezing all the same. He tried to stop himself from imagining how cold his aunt and uncle must’ve been, in their stuffy coffins, underground.                                                                   

Peter squeezed his eyes shut tightly and shook his head as if to dispel the paralyzing memories that had been suffocating him in his moment of melancholy reminiscence. He had to do something. Stand up and leave. To go where, he didn’t know, it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go, but he couldn’t stay here. It would drive him mad.

So, Peter did the only thing he’d ever tried to do to deal with his grief. The only thing that ever gave him purpose and direction, whenever he felt lost or lonely or broken. The only escape he had ever had, when he didn’t want to go home, or in this case, didn’t have a home to go to.

He went out as Spider-Man, to try and save others from his own pain.

Chapter Text

Peter might’ve, possibly, forgotten that this world had never seen Spider-Man before. While swinging around town, he could see Queens’ residents gape up at him more than ever before, pointing at him and gasping in shock and wonder. A little boy standing next to a hotdog stand whooped when Peter did a flip in mid-air, making the older people next to him laugh. For a moment, the warm sound chased away the panic and sadness that had been swamping Peter’s heart ever since his arrival in this new, lonely world.

“Do that again!” Cheered the boy.

Peter landed on a rooftop and flipped off the perch, landing smoothly in front of his first fan. He waved, plastering a smile on his face despite the mask hiding it. “Hi, there.”

The boy looked at Peter with wonder in his eyes. It reminded Peter of himself, when he was the boy’s age, only Peter had been looking up at Iron Man. The idea warmed and saddened him in equal measure. “How do you do that?” The boy exclaimed, giddily. “Who are you?”

“You can call me Spider-Man.” Peter introduced himself, holding out a gloved hand for the boy to shake. “What’s your name?”

“Hayden. Are you a superhero?”

Peter shook his head. A couple of days ago, he would’ve said yes, but now Peter knew better. The Avengers were superheroes. Peter… he was just a sort of neighborhood volunteer, equally heroic as the volunteers that worked at animal shelters, or with the homeless. No, Peter couldn’t call himself a hero and he’d done wrong trying to be one, when a real superhero like Mr. Stark had told him he wasn’t ready.

“Well… I do have superpowers, so I suppose I can become one, once I’ve proven myself. For now, I’m thinking of myself more as a vigilante.”

Hayden’s nose scrunched up as he frowned in confusion. “Vigi-what?”

“Vigilante.” A man from the crowd that had formed around the pair, told the boy. “It means someone who catches bad guys, but doesn’t work for the police.”

Miles nodded seriously at that, before turning back to Peter. “If you catch bad guys, why didn’t you catch Thanos? Why didn’t you save my mommy?”

A girl in the surrounding crowd winced. “Hey, that’s not nice to ask. What happened to the Blipped is not Spider-Man’s fault.”

“Nah, the kid’s got a point.” Someone from the back denied quickly. “Where were you when Thanos attacked us?”

A faceless voice from the other side of the circle jumped in to defend Peter. “You’re being a hypocrite! Where were you-“

“No, it’s alright.” Peter interrupted quickly, holding up his hands in the universal sign of surrender, gesturing for everyone to calm down. He turned to the little boy and crouched down so they were on eye-level. “I should’ve saved your Mom.” Peter said softly. “But I was acting like a stupid kid, failing the responsibilities that come with powers like mine.”

Peter sighed and shook his head, before looking up at the people gathered around him. “But I’ve learned from that, alright? And I’ve realized that it’s time for me to step up. Time for me to grow up. We all need to look out for each other. We’re all this world has left and..” Peter faltered to stop the tears that burned in his eyes, as he thought of May. “and I can’t bear to watch anyone else die.”

His proclamation was met with a solemn silence, which was abruptly broken by the applause of an elderly man. “Well said, son.” He said, voice laced with approval. “I, for one, am happy to have you protecting our community. Welcome to New York.”

It wasn’t home and Peter doubted that it ever would feel like it was, but for the first time since waking up in this other reality or universe or whatever this shit show was supposed to be, Peter felt like even a small part of him belonged here. He grinned through his mask. “Thank you, Sir.”

Peter was soon reminded of the fact that he truthfully did not belong in this strange, similar but divergent world. Peter Parker hadn’t ever existed here and he wasn’t supposed to exist now. Peter was quickly confronted with that harsh truth, when he got in a bit of a better state of mind and started to think of a basic plan of survival.  

As he sat on a random rooftop, talking things through with Karen, it dawned on him that he basically had no options. All his connections were gone, so he had no people he could turn to for help. He had no money for basic necessities and he was a minor without a guardian, so if that was discovered he’d probably end up in foster care, which was about the last thing he needed.

Worst of all: he didn’t have an identity. No nationality, medical file, school records, identification… no birth certificate. So, despite being born in a New York City, in this New York he was basically as illegitimate as an illegal immigrant. Only difference being that Peter was doubly screwed, because not only was he an unauthorized person in the United States, he was a refugee from another universe entirely, which essentially meant that he was allowed to stay exactly nowhere on this earth legally. In other words… he was fucked.

Meanwhile at the Avengers Compound, Natasha was staring at her computer screen, her raised brows giving away her surprise at whatever she was looking at. “Clint, Tony,” Natasha called. “Have you seen this?”

Tony wandered over as he sipped his coffee, peering over Natasha’s shoulder. Clint leaned over to look from where he was sitting beside Natasha.

“What the fuck has the world come to?” Tony muttered, looking at the YouTube footage of a Spidery themed superhero swinging around New York on what looked like… actual spiderwebs?

Clint whistled as the Spider guy flipped off a building and landed on his feet gracefully before sweeping the feet from underneath a robber, flooring the criminal. “Damn. He’s going to put you out of business, Widow.”

“Who’s that?” Asked a younger voice from behind Tony.  Tony turned to face his curious ward, Harley Keener.

Harley’s mom and sister had vanished after the Snap, alongside Pepper, Rhodey, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Yelena, Clint’s family and many other people. There hadn’t been any other place for Harley to go, so Tony was responsible for Harley now.

“Avengers business that I don’t want you mixed up in.” He reached over and squeezed Harley’s shoulder gently. “No one you need to worry about, Scooter.” He reassured, keeping his tone purposefully upbeat and teasing, using the nickname because he knew it would piss Harley off enough to distract him from the spider-themed hero on the screen.

Harley glared at the nickname. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

Success. Tony smiled. “You aren’t a real friend of mine, if you don’t have a nickname, Scoot. Would you rather I’d return to calling you Potato Boy?”  

“Honestly? I think so. Potato Boy is bad, but at least there’s a story behind that one-”

Tony lead Harley away from the computer and toward the kitchen where Steve was making lunch, as Harley continued to bash Tony’s choice of nickname. He looked over his shoulder at Clint and Nat, mouthing: “Keep an eye on at that.”

Natasha saluted him, already typing away on her laptop to do whatever spies do to track down people. Tony never bothered to learn. “There is a story behind Scooter too,” Tony tells Harley. “You know you’re named after a motorcycle, yeah? But you’re still little, so for now you’re a scooter. No? Not a fan? I can think of some other motorcycle related nicknames if you want.” He ignored Harley’s protests as he started to list a couple he could come up with on the top of his head. “How about, Turbo? Tank? Zoomer? Speedy? Flash? Grease Monkey?”

“Steve!” Groaned Harley. “For the love of everything holy, please make him stop!”

A few evenings later, Tony came across another Spider-Man video online while hanging out in the common room. It was different from the first one, in which Spider-Man had been fighting. This was just a sighting of Spider-Man sitting quietly on a roof, staring out over the city. The guy didn’t look dangerous like this, but it still jogged his memory, reminding him of the potential threat Nat was supposed to update him on. “Hey Nat? Any info on the other Spider-themed individual in town?”

Steve put down his book, looking confused but interested. “Spider-themed individual?”

“No pattern to his behavior.” Natasha reported grimly, looking frustrated at her own failure to get anything substantial. “Seems to sleep everywhere and nowhere, goes out on patrol most days and all nights and doesn’t seem to have a life outside of vigilantism. He’s also impossible to follow around, it’s like he senses it when he’s watched.”

Tony frowns, this wasn’t the news he’d been hoping for. “Is he dangerous?”

“Deadly.” Natasha reported, very seriously. “He might not act like a threat, but his powers are and behavior can change. I don’t feel comfortable not knowing who he is, but simultaneously I am no closer to his name.”

“Have you used Friday?”

“Yes, but it’s as if this guy was born as Spider-Man, no civilian-identity to speak of. Like he’s some sort of ghost that popped into existence one day to the other, with no other objective than to help people.”

“The latter doesn’t seem so bad.” Harley pointed out, from the couch he’d been lounging on, carefully appearing as if he was napping instead of listening in on Avenger business. “The world kinda needs some new heroes now, after…” he trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to mention the remaining Avengers’ lost friends.

“Yes, well.” Tony cleared his throat. “New heroes we might need, but the last thing we want is another villain.”

“Let alone one that can manage to evade Natasha.” Steve added, looking troubled.

“He isn’t actually doing anything wrong except for not allowing Nat to stalk him like a creep.” Harley pointed out, a bit indignant on this mystery guy’s behalf. “I wouldn’t allow Nat to stalk and analyze me at every turn, either, if I was capable of avoiding it. Spider-Man is not doing anything suspicious. Why bother someone who is picking up the slack of the lost heroes we all so desperately need?”

“Fate doesn’t have a great track record with providing what I need, I often have to invent that myself. I don’t see why this would be any different, so I’m not risking it.” Tony answered sternly, effectively shutting down any more protests.

“So what’s the plan?” Clint, who’d been listening thoughtfully so far, asked.

“We have to talk to him and convince him to give up his civilian identity.” Steve said, after a moment of consideration. “If he won’t cooperate, we’ll have to arrest him and take off his mask ourselves.”

“Are we sure that’s wise?” Harley frowned, having given up all pretense of non-involvement. “Seems like a good way to piss this guy off and create a villainy problem.”

“Personally, I’d rather have an enemy I know, then an ally I can’t trust.” Natasha put forth.

“That’s some a-class bullshit.” Harley deadpanned. “You’d rather face Thanos again then team up with… I don’t know, someone like DareDevil or Deadpool?”

Natasha paled at the mention of Thanos. Steve winced, Tony cast his eyes down and Clint glared at the teenager that reminded them of their failure earlier that year. The failure that had resulted in the loss of not only Harley’s family, but Clint’s, Natasha’s, Steve’s and Tony’s as well. Harley glared stubbornly back.

“For all we know, Spider-Man is an ally of Thanos.” Clint pointed out. “We just can’t know and we simply can’t afford to trust everyone that claims to be good.” Harley opened his mouth to argue, but Clint waved him away. “You’re a kid, I don’t expect you to understand.”

Harley’s glower intensified in heat, but he didn’t try to speak up again.

“That’s decided, then.” Tony broke the silence. “Next time our Spidery friend is out there, we’ll have a little chat.”

Harley shook his head, stood up angrily and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut with enough force to make the windows rattle.

“Ugh, teens.” Clint muttered into the tense silence Harley left behind.

“I am the one that is going to have to talk to him, aren’t I?” Tony asked uncomfortably. Natasha and Steve shared an exasperated look behind Clint and Tony’s backs.

Chapter Text

Everything was a mess after the Snap, even six months after the world stopping disaster. In any other situation, Peter would have been devastated to see it, but right now it was his saving grace.

In an unbroken world, Peter would have starved or frozen to death without a roof over his head, warm enough clothes and money to buy sufficient food.

In the fractured world that this reality’s Thanos had left behind, there were plenty of abandoned buildings and apartments – especially in the outskirts of town – whose owners had either died or moved closer to city center due to the living spaces that had suddenly become available there after the Snap.

Left little choice, Peter survived in this foreign version of New York by breaking into and sleeping in apartments that weren’t inhabited anymore and – if he was particularly lucky –hadn’t been emptied out yet. It was not a long lasting solution, all apartments would be cleared out at some point after all, but it was enough to survive this winter. It would buy him some time to figure things out.

Time, was all Peter needed. No matter how hopeless his situation seemed, he wasn’t one to give up. Long shelf life food and money left in Snapped people’s houses, would keep him up and running until he could stand on his own legs, without needing to steal from dead people. 

Peter didn’t feel good about wearing clothes he’d found in strangers’ closets, and using money and eating food that he stole, but unfortunately, Peter’s entire existence was illegal in this universe, so in order to become a legitimate, contributing member of society, Peter would have to do some illegal things. Not because he enjoyed being morally ambiguous, but because he had no other options. If these past days had taught him anything, it was that sometimes you needed to park your morals and just get shit done.

If anyone had told him at the beginning of the year that he would turn to crime for survival, he would not have believed them. Peter was embarrassed to admit that he would have been offended. Now, he understood that sometimes you simply don’t have the luxury to avoid doing something just because it isn’t… honorable or law-abiding. Peter wasn't sure if he could ever look at the criminals he fought the same way again, now that he’d been just as desperate as some of them.

“I’m not proud of this, but at least I’ll go back to being good as soon as I’ve managed to become a an actual existing person.” Peter mumbled to himself, as he logged onto some random person’s account at the public library, having swiped a library pass from some poor girl that he’d ‘accidentally’ ran into while entering the building.

Peter looked around as subtly as possible from the shady corner he’d chosen to sit. He’d rather not anyone witness what he was doing right now, it was definitely illegal and Peter wasn’t sure what he’d do if someone caught him.  He had fallen further than he had ever feared, but he was nowhere near so low to consider disposing of anyone just because they knew something they shouldn’t. Peter didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if he ever got to that point.

With a sigh, Peter turned back to the shitty library computer. Peter wasn’t as good a hacker as Ned, but he was capable enough. It was mostly his moral compass – which loudly voiced it’s disapproval in a voice that sounded suspiciously like May’s – that got in his way. Still, if he wanted to survive in the long run, this was a necessary evil. Peter knew that Mr. Stark would agree, but he hoped May would understand as well.

Peter first hacked into several government databases. Instead of accessing information like most other hackers would probably do, he added his own. Within the hour, Peter Parker was officially born and for practical purposes his parents were reborn as well, under different names. It wasn't very convincing, certainly not legit enough to fool agencies like S.H.I.E.L.D. or people like Tony Stark if they were to pay attention, but as long as Peter kept a low-profile it should hold up well enough.

Next, Peter hacked into Midtowns files, creating school records for himself, sticking as close to his actual grades in each year as he could, having to recall everything by heart. Peter couldn’t bite back a weary smile as he exited Midtown’s files, feeling accomplished. After winter break, he’d be able to return to school. His smile faded though, as he realized what was next on his to-do-list.

To pay for Midtown’s tuition now that he’d lost his scholarship, Peter hacked the local bank, adding a bank account, before with a mental apology to May, hacking into several bank accounts of wealthy clients and stealing small amounts of money.

Peter had already talked about this with Karen. Apart from the fact that stealing was wrong, this plan was alright as far as stealing goes. Rich people earn so much money at a high speed that the owners of the accounts likely wouldn’t even notice the difference, meaning that his targets wouldn’t suffer much because of his actions and, more importantly according to Karen, he probably wouldn’t get caught.

Finally, Peter hacked into the library’s security system, erasing today’s footage and turning the cameras off so he could make his escape unseen.

Done, Peter logged out, wiping the pass from his fingerprints with his hoodie, before dropping it near the entrance of the building. It would probably be found and stored in the lost-and-found office. The girl he’d borrowed it from would be able to get it back. It was a small consolation, but it made Peter feel better.

This universe’s winter cold was intense, a biting wind whipping Peter in the face as soon as the automatic sliding doors of Queens’ public library opened to reveal a snow-covered sidewalk and a very slippery looking street. This harsh winter would’ve been detrimental for Peter, if it wasn’t for the abandoned buildings he’d managed to shelter in. Snow had started falling in heaps the day before yesterday and the temperatures had plummeted to a firm 28 degrees Fahrenheit.

Head ducked into his stolen – borrowed, Peter corrected mentally – winter coat, Peter made his way to the apartment he'd stored his stuff in today. Climbing up buildings was difficult in winter time, he couldn’t use his stickiness in the snow, but luckily Peter had found an empty apartment on the second floor, easily accessible via the dumpster in the back alley, which he had managed to slide under the apartment’s window to use as a stepping stone.

Peter crawled through the broken bathroom window, mindful of the protruding glass shards as he did so. Today's apartment was quite nice. Based on the photos hanging in the living room, a father and three sons once lived here. One of the son’s rooms had been partly cleared out, so Peter assumed it’s owner had survived the Dusting and moved out. He wondered where he’d gone. Was he with other surviving relatives or family friends, or was he perhaps in the foster system now?

Peter shrugged off the winter coat he’d found on the coatrack, leaving him in the blue hoodie he’d taken from the older boy’s bedroom, before walking over to the kitchen to see what kind of food might still be good enough to consume. The refrigerator was filled with spoiled food. Peter made a face and quickly closed the fridge back up. If he never had to see or smell six-month-old food again, he would be the happiest person on earth.

The six-month-old loaf of bread that was laid out on the kitchen counter was such a gross sight that Peter didn’t even dare to touch it to throw it out. Sure, he hadn’t gotten sick since the spider bite, but he believed that a mold that bad would affect even him.

He found some edible stuff in the cupboards, though. Peter grabbed the unopened packs of cereal, an onion that didn’t look too bad for its age, some dried pasta and all the canned foods this family had had, including canned fruits, vegetables, and even certain meats. All in all, he was more than satisfied. He was ecstatic. Not all homes he’d visited had been so well-stocked.

Peter cooked some of the pasta and ate the onion, despite hating the taste. He put all the remaining foods with his other supplies in the backpack he had taken from someone’s living room on the first night. Energy renewed by the meal, Peter took a power nap on the couch before putting on his suit and going out on patrol for the evening.

If Peter had known that he wouldn’t return here, he would’ve opened one of the cans with fruit instead of forcing himself to swallow that onion. Peter couldn’t have predicted the events the evening had in store for him though…

“I’ve got eyes on Spidey.” Clint reported. He, Steve and Natasha had gone out to New York City as soon as the chatter of Spider-Man sightings started on social media. Tony stayed at the compound, monitoring clues online, promising to come out once they actually found their target, since he could fly and make it there quickly anyway.

“Me too. He is on the move.” Natasha said from the roof she was standing on. “He’s in Queens, Tony.”

“What is he even doing, going out on Christmas Eve?” Tony asked, sounding a little annoyed.

Natasha peered down at Spider-Man as he lashed out at a bulky looking man. Behind Spider-Man, frozen in fear, stood a woman. “I think beating up a would-be rapist.”

“Oh yeah, you should definitely arrest him for that, what a terrible crime.” Harley’s tinny voice said sarcastically in her ear. He sounded faraway, his words probably picked up from the background on Tony’s end, since he was with Harley in the Compound.

“I’m on my way.” Tony said, voice much clearer than Harley’s. “Don’t engage until I’m there.”

“We’ll keep our eyes on him, but we won’t engage unless it’s necessary.” Steve told Tony as he stared at the masked hero webbing the man he’d been fighting to the wall. “He’s finishing up though, so we won’t have a choice but to announce our presence if he’s going to leave.”

Natasha tilted her head curiously, as she saw Spider-Man turn to the young woman he’d saved. From her position she couldn’t hear what was said, but based on the woman’s body language it was something kind and reassuring.

“He’s leaving.” Steve said, while Clint swore as Spider-Man and the girl stared leaving the alley together. “We can’t corner him when the girl’s there, can we? What if he takes her hostage?”

“He just saved her life.” Natasha pointed out, keeping her eyes on Spider-Man and the girl as they walked and chatted. “I doubt he’d lay a hand on her.” 

“Don’t engage, I’m nearly there.” Tony repeated, before telling Friday to increase his suit's speed.

“We’ll have to follow them.” Natasha decided. “Just don’t get too close. When he isn’t already in combat, he always seems to know when somebody is watching him.”

“Thank you, again.” The girl – she’d introduced herself as Isabel – said. “For saving me, but also for walking me home.”

“It’s no problem.” Peter said sincerely, smiling kindly even though his mask hid it. “I’m glad I could help. Stay safe, yeah?”

“You too. Merry Christmas.”

Peter watched to make sure the girl entered her home safely, before turning around and making his way back to the alley. Usually he’d just let Karen call the police and be done with it, but he didn’t feel comfortable leaving the offender waiting in the cold like this. Just because he was a bad guy didn’t mean that Peter wanted to be responsible for him catching pneumonia or worse.

A warning sign. Peter faltered mid-step, feeling unnerved all of a sudden. His Spidey-sense thrummed. Peter turned, eyes widening in surprised disbelief. There, on the sidewalk, stood Black Widow and Captain America. His Spidey-sense thrummed once more and when Peter’s head snapped over to the other side of the street, he saw Hawkeye and… o my god, that was an alternate version of Mr. Stark, in his Iron Man suit.

Steve Rogers approached Peter, hands waving around in his soothing gesture. “Don’t run, Spider-Man, we just want to talk.”

Peter tensed a little at Steve’s voice and words. To be perfectly honest, he didn’t trust the Avengers present at all. In his reality, Mr. Stark hadn’t worked with Steve Rogers in years and Natasha, Clint and Steve were all fugitives on the run.

The fact that this Tony Stark was working with the people that had betrayed him proved that he couldn’t assume that his Tony Stark and this Tony Stark were one and the same. He trusted his Mr. Stark to have his back, he really did, but that didn’t mean that he could trust this one too. No matter how much they looked alike, they weren’t necessarily the same people and for all Peter knew, they hadn’t lead identical lives.  

Steve came to a stop next to Peter, extending his hand. “I’m Captain America, Steve Rogers. This is Natasha, Black Widow.” He nodded to Natasha Romanov, who was standing two steps behind him looking at Peter in a way that made him feel like she could read his every thought.

Hesitantly Peter shook the offered hand. “Spider-Man.” He said, warily. If this had happened to him when he first started out in his own universe, he would’ve been ecstatic to meet these superheroes, but under current circumstances it only made him feel nervous.  He had never been visited by the Avengers in his own universe until Mr. Stark needed him. He’d just somewhat recovered from a losing battle with Thanos. Peter didn't think he could handle facing another Avengers level threat so soon.

Seeing that their target wasn’t trying to make a quick escape, Clint Barton and Tony Stark came over too, the four Avengers crowding around Peter, who felt increasingly uncomfortable at the way they were cornering him against the wall.

“Iron Man, Hawkeye.” Steve introduced this universe’s Tony and Clint.

Peter looked over at them, nodding in greeting. “Hi.” He couldn’t help the way his eyes lingered on Tony’s face…  This man and his mentor looked pretty damn alike. Yet, this version didn’t seem to regard Peter with anything but skepticism and distrust in his eyes. Peter was used to exasperated fondness, not… this. 

“You’ve been going out a lot lately, fighting crime.” Clint spoke up, causing Peter to tear his eyes away from Tony’s face so he could look at the archer. “You weren’t going out before the Blip. Why?”

Because I wasn’t here before the Blip. “I am here now and I’m just trying to help people.” Why did Hawkeye sound so… accusatory? Not exactly the way to approach a potential ally against some Avengers level threat… Peter’s blood ran cold. Unless they think I am the Avengers level threat.

“While we appreciate the extra help in protecting the city, we need to know if we can trust you.” Tony said, confirming Peter’s suspicions. “So you need to tell us your name.”

Peter stiffened, heart sinking in dread. Shit. Someone like Tony looking into his admittedly amateurishly created fake-identity was really the last thing Peter needed right now. “That’s a secret.” He protested, chuckling nervously. “That’s kind of the point of a secret identity.” Peter was praying that that would be enough to satisfy the increasingly stern Avengers, but knew that realistically it definitely wasn’t.

“Why do you want to remain anonymous? Are you afraid of being held accountable for your actions?” Asked Steve.

Peter thought it was rather ironic that the person that hadn’t wanted to sign the Sokovia Accords, was implying Peter was the one scared of the consequences of his own actions. “No. I’m afraid that my identity will leak and mess up my life.” Not that he had a life that could be messed up right now, but he would have one, soon. He was working on it.

“We’re really incredibly discrete.” Natasha assured him, softening a little at the vigilante’s valid fear. “All we need is your name so we can make sure you’re clean and that you won’t harm the city. After that we won’t bother you again.”

“You have our word.” Steve said earnestly, nodding along.

Peter bit his lip. He wanted to reassure the Avengers of his good intentions, he did, but he couldn’t. If they’d find out that he faked his identity, they were bound to distrust him even more than they did now.

It wasn’t like he could tell them what had happened to him. Who in their right mind would believe him, if he claimed he was actually a U.S. citizen named Peter Parker, but from another universe? Peter hadn’t even believed in the multiverse before this all happened to him and he doubted that the Avengers would accept it if he told them he’d accidentally stranded in their reality.

“C’mon, Spider-Man,” sighed Tony, exasperated. “It is Christmas Eve and I think we’ve both got better things to do and different people we want to spent it with. Just tell us your name and be done with it.”

“Unless you have something to hide?” Natasha added, narrowing her eyes.                   

He shifted uneasily under Black Widow’s piercing gaze, wishing his insides would settle back into their proper place. “Listen, guys, we’re all on the same side here, yeah?” He implored a little desperately. “There’s no need for this hostility.”

“Tell. Us. Your. Name.”

Peter’s chest was starting to feel a little tight with anxiety. He really, really didn’t want to tell the Avengers his name, but he also sincerely doubted they’d let him go without getting an answer. The idea of escaping or fighting his way out of this was ludicrous. The last time Peter had engaged an Avenger in combat, namely Captain America, he'd... not gotten hurt, but basically lost anyway. There was no way he could compete with four Avengers, none of whom he wanted to seriously hurt.

“Listen,” Peter said, voice a little higher than usual, heart hammering uncomfortably loud in his ears. “I respect you guys, I really do, but that is not happening. Okay?”

Tony raised his hand and squeezed the nose of his bridge, the picture of exasperation. “No, not okay!” He exclaimed, sounding incredibly fed up with this entire conversation. “We’re not asking, Bughead.”

“I don’t want to hurt any of you guys.” Peter said, pressing his fingertips against the wall behind him, hoping beyond hope that the wall wouldn’t be too snowy for him to rely on his stickiness to make his escape.

“Hurt us?” Clint repeated, sounding torn between incredulity and amusement.

Peter tugged experimentally, his hand remained stuck to the wall. The smooth stone felt cool against his palm. “I don’t want any trouble, okay? I just want to live my life and help a few people along the way.”

Clearly having lost his patience, Clint stepped forward, making a grabbing motion in the direction of Peter’s mask. Instincts blaring out a warning, Peter jumped, kicked Clint in the chest – using minimal force – and crawled up the wall, out of Clint’s reach.

“What the fuck?” Tony stared at the person sticking to the wall, stunned. That sure as hell hadn’t been in any of the videos!

Steve gaped up at the vigilante, who was casually defying gravity by climbing up a vertical wall as if the lack of something to hold onto was merely a minor inconvenience. After everything he’d been through he didn’t know why this development still managed to catch him off-guard.

Natasha crouched down next to Clint, who’d fallen over. She looked away from the dazed Clint to snap: “He’s getting away!” Her voice startled her teammates back into action.  

Indeed, Spider-Man had used their bewilderment to crawl all the way to the roof and was now vanishing from view. At once Tony grabbed Cap and gave chase, shooting into the sky. He deposited Cap on the roof to follow Spider-Man by foot, while he remained airborne.

Spider guy could run fast, Tony had to give him that, and he could handle those webs of his suspiciously well, swinging around as if he'd grown up doing it. He didn’t seem new to all of this.

Cap threw out his shield, but Spider-Man ducked despite presumably not having eyes in the back of his head. Tony shook his head in astonishment. Nat was right, his instincts were ridiculously over-developed.

After flying, swinging and running in circles for a while, Cap finally managed to stop Spider-Man in his tracks by slicing his webbing with his shield. For a moment Tony felt elation at the progress, but that feeling quickly made gave way to horror as he watched Spider-Man fall several stories, landing on the concrete below with a sickening crack. He stayed down.

It didn’t quite feel like a victory. Tony hovered uncertainly on the spot, staring at the motionless vigilante. He looked… small like this. 

“Shit.” Steve said, eyes widening. “Get me down there, Tony.”

Tony complied, grabbing Steve under his armpits and depositing him by Spider-Man’s side. He waited as Steve kneeled down by Spider-Man’s side, hesitantly reaching out to gently shake his shoulder. “Spidey?” Steve called. “Spidey, hey!”

He breathed a sigh of relief, when Spider-Man stirred weakly. “Go get Nat and Clint, yeah? We should take him back to the compound for medical attention.”  

As Tony left to fetch their teammates, Steve turned back to Spider-Man, who looked out of it as he came to and started to shift away from Steve’s hands in a panicky, disoriented manner. “It’s okay! I didn’t mean to hurt you this bad, are you…”

Instincts overruling his common sense in his state of confusion, Spider-Man unexpectedly kicked out, hitting Cap squarely in the chest with enough force to break bones. Steve flew back, connecting with a wall with an impact that would’ve surely paralyzed a lesser man.

Before Peter could even comprehend what had happened, what he’d done and who he’d just nearly killed, his Spidey-sense pulsed out a warning. Peter was too slow and too out of it to use it. A high-pitched whistle announced an incoming arrow.

For a single beat, Peter realized that suddenly a foreign object was sticking out of his shoulder and that it hurt like a bitch. Then, everything went black.

Chapter Text

The first thing to successfully penetrate the fog around Peter’s brain, was the fact that he was in an upright position. Not laying in a bed or stretched-out on a couch, like he normally would if he were to take a nap. The next observation that managed to register was the fact that his entire body was tingling painfully and that the lights burning his retinas through his closed lids, were too bright to be from his little bedroom’s.

After that, stimuli kept pouring in at an almost overwhelming pace: his shoulder was itching in a way only recently healed wounds did and the room he found himself in smelled faintly of antiseptic and hospital, glaringly different from the distinct lavender-scent of home, that coated his and May’s apartment. He could hear three people just outside the room, their agitated voices sounding faraway and smothered despite Peter’s sharp hearing, as if the noise the mysterious trio made was travelling through a sound-proofed wall: another piece of evidence indicating that Peter wasn’t home: the walls of his apartment building were rather thin. Normally, he could hear the traffic from downstairs as if he were standing in the middle of the road and he could follow conversations from several floors up if he so desired.

So, he’d been asleep, but he wasn’t in his bed, or even his apartment. Quite concerning. Even more concerning, was that wherever he was, Peter didn’t quite know how he’d gotten there in the first place. His memory was a bit of a fuzzy mess right now, all colors and shapeless images, and he was too cotton-brained to really focus on trying to remember more clearly. He just knew that however he’d ended up in this situation, it couldn’t be good. Something was wrong, Peter could feel that in his very bones.

He’d never felt as out of it, as he was now. He was dizzy to the point that he wasn’t sure what was up and down anymore and felt insubstantial in a way, as if he wasn’t tactile, instead merely an illusion. He wouldn’t have been fully convinced he couldn’t drift away at any given moment, hadn’t it been for the cold metal cutting into his wrists, which – while worrying and extremely uncomfortable – was grounding and therefore somewhat reassuring as well.

The craziest thing of all though, was that Peter felt remarkably safe at this undisclosed location, in the company of these three unknown people, feeling as hurt, weak and spaced out as he was. His Spidey-Sense was humming an unconcerned tune in the back of his mind. This confused Peter, because except for the notable lack of anxiety caused by his usually trustworthy sixth sense, all of his other impressions pointed to one probable, not at all comforting explanation: He must’ve been knocked out or drugged, and kidnapped somehow.

Peter let out a soft groan, rolling his head, that had been limply hanging to his chest, upward. May and Mr. Stark were going to kill him.

As time passed, realization of the situation he was in and the events preceding it started to materialize from obscurity, sharpening more and more in Peter’s mind with every passing second, as he regained his bearings and his grogginess slowly dissipated.

As Peter became more and more alert, he was forcefully reminded of the fact that he had no May or Mr. Stark in his corner to be mad at him for getting into trouble anymore, because Peter Parker was cursed with his blasted Parker Luck that had somehow transported him to a freaking different reality where he didn’t exist, May was somehow dead and the Mr. Stark that cared about him was in a whole different universe.

He was still at risk of being killed by a Tony Stark though, because this universe’s Mr. Stark was the one who’d kidnapped him. Peter had to repress a loud sigh of exhaustion, slumping in his seat. He’d been captured by the fucking Avengers. What a tragic clusterfuck of a life. He must’ve been Thanos in a past life or something, to deserve the amount of bad karma he’d been suffering through lately.

Peter blinked lethargically as his still somewhat dazed gaze travelled around the interrogation room he found himself in. His eyes landed on the cuffs around his wrists and the chains binding his torso to the back of his chair.

“Shit.” He muttered as he experimentally tugged at his restraints. He felt himself tense at the resistance he felt. Vibranium. That wasn’t good, that left him without any tricks up his sleeve if he needed to make a hasty escape. “Why can’t I ever catch a break?” Peter sulked to himself resentfully. “This is just not fucking fair.”

On the other side of the mirrored glass, Tony, Clint and Natasha were observing the boy. Tony noted down the short amount of time that their young captive had been out. “That sedation arrow should’ve knocked him out for a few hours at least.” He muttered. “yet our worryingly young John Doe here, casually wakes up after only one… not even Cap wakes up that fast if he’s hit with these in training.”

“How is Cap?” Asked Clint, leaning against the wall with a grave expression. “That kid’s kick must’ve been freakishly strong to knock Cap out.”

“The medical staff says he’s going to be fine.” Natasha said, without tearing her eyes away from the kid in their custody. “He’ll be sore for a while, but with his enhanced healing he’ll be back on his feet in no time. She said that his super soldier serum saved him though, things could’ve been very serious if one of us had been in his shoes.”

Clint looked at the kid sitting inside, who was looking agitated. He seemed to be in pain, but not in nearly enough pain for having head dived into a slab of concrete from the height he had fallen from.  “This kid can’t be a super soldier like Steve… right?”

“I wouldn’t rule it out. Maybe Hydra created him like they did Bucky.”

Tony shook his head, turning away from the kid and thumping his head back against the glass tiredly. “Nothing makes sense anymore.” He intoned dully, sounding bone-wary. “A lot of things don’t add up about this kid. He is wearing Stark Tech I don’t remember making and even FRIDAY can’t find out who he is by scanning his face. God willing knowing his name will help, but so far there isn’t a single record or picture on earth to prove this kid actually exists.”

“Sounds like Hydra to me.”

Clint nudged Natasha. “I thought you and Steve dealt with Hydra?”

Natasha shrugged. “We thought we did, but S.H.I.E.L.D. also thought they’d gotten rid of them only to learn that they’d been working in the shadows all along. Maybe Hydra infiltrated Stark Industries as well and… stole Tony’s tools to make the suit which is why FRIDAY assumed it was Stark Tech?”

“If Hydra is back again Steve is going to lose his mind.”

“We’re all going to lose our minds.” Natasha corrected Clint. “because the last thing we need right now, is an old enemy profiting from the fact that half our team is gone.”

No one disagreed.

Clint looked back at their prisoner, watching the kid slump, hanging his head in apparent defeat. He couldn’t help but see Cooper, in the chair of this nameless teen. “If Hydra is involved, this kid is a victim. How old is he anyway, thirteen? Fourteen?”

“Age doesn’t mean anything.” Natasha said. “I was probably younger than him, when I started becoming lethal.”

“And you were a victim too.”

“I wasn’t any less dangerous for it and I didn’t have super strength and the ability to climb walls.”

Tony sighed deeply, feeling a headache coming on. Dealing with one displaced teenager was trouble enough, he didn’t think he could handle another one. Especially an enhanced Hydra kid that had issues similar to Barnes’ before his control over his own mind was restored. “So what do we do?”

“Well, he’s just a kid and I shot him with an arrow after he fell of a five story building because of us chasing him, so we should probably get him some medical attention.” Clint pointed out. “I mean, he must be concussed at the least, freakish super powers or not.”

“Right.” Tony said, wincing at the memory of the kid laying motionlessly on the street. It had been an unnerving sight even before Tony had known they were dealing with an underage boy instead of a man, but now that he knew, it was a whole lot worse.

After cursing every deity he could think of including Loki and Thor, Peter tried to figure out his next step. He really wasn’t going anywhere, unless he got out of this chair somehow, and that didn’t seem to be in the cards for him.

He uselessly tugged at his restraints some more, before grimacing unhappily. Yeah, the Vibranium definitely wasn’t going to give in. Peter couldn’t even blame the Avengers for restraining him in such an extreme manner, after what happened with Captain America. He cringed, as he recalled how he’d kicked the hero in a fit of panic. He hoped that the man was alright, he really hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. 

Rationally speaking, Peter could totally understand that the Avengers didn’t trust him and had taken drastic precautionary measures, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t suck. In any other scenario, Peter would’ve just waited for Mr. Stark to notice he was gone, track him down and save his sorry ass, probably complaining about Peter’s recklessness the whole time.

It hurt to know that waiting for Mr. Stark to come pick him up wasn’t an option anymore. The Tony Stark of this universe didn’t know Peter and his own Mr. Stark was stranded alone on Titan, and that was assuming he wasn’t dead. There was no one waiting for him and there was no one coming to save him. Peter hadn’t ever felt so alone before.

But his anger overshadowed his loneliness and the deep sadness that was desperate to come out. He had tried so hard. He had rolled with the punches, no matter how much he’d longed to just stay down. He had repressed his grief and loneliness and had focused on surviving, working harder than he’d ever had, to try and make the best of it all even though he felt like a vast part of him had died on Titan.

And he’d been so close to finally achieving something, so close to finding a sliver of happiness, a silver lining to hold onto, in the darkness. He had just found a part of himself again, or at least recreated it well enough, to feel a step closer to being the Peter Parker that he’d been before his life had gone to shit in the most profound way he could even imagine.

He’d found a way to be a student of Midtown again, and a citizen of the city he loved. It was the only piece of himself besides Spider-Man that he could reclaim. He wasn't Tony Stark’s mentee and intern, he wasn’t Ned’s best friend, or even May’s nephew. He no longer lived in his apartment in Queens and he no longer held any titles of honor, no matter how many times he had won Science Olympiads and Decathlon nationals.

But he was Peter Parker again, a student of Midtown High in New York. All he’d really wanted was to be able to be… himself again. It was so unbelievably unfair that if he told the Avengers his name, and they inevitably looked into him and discovered that he’d forged his identity, they’d tell him that he wasn’t.

That was the truth of the matter. Peter was scared, to tell the Avengers his name. Not only because they probably wouldn’t believe him, when he told them the admittedly unbelievable story of what happened to him. Sure, that was a genuine concern, but most of all, he feared that they’d tell on him. He feared that they’d inform the government of the fact that Peter didn’t belong in this version of the U.S. and Peter would be deported to who knows where, since he doesn’t belong anywhere on this version of earth, and he’d be even further removed from everything that made Peter, Peter.

He was Peter Parker, ordinary high school student by day, protector of New York by night. He didn’t want anyone to take that away. 

But the Avengers had come knocking and now he was stuck here, no way out and he doubted that the Avengers would let him go without a definitive answer. It didn’t matter how long he would hold out, because they’d just let him sit here in isolation until he was ready to talk and Peter was already going mad, sitting here with nothing to do but think.

He didn’t know what was more miserable. Waiting indefinitely on the wrong side of the bars of a holding cell in upstate New York as he worried tirelessly about being removed from New York City, or risking being actually removed by spilling his guts, but with the slight possibility of being allowed to get back to Queens?

Who was he kidding? Patience was a virtue. One that Peter definitely didn’t possess.

Tony was just about to page someone from the compound’s medical staff to come and take a look at the boy they had restrained in the interrogation room, when the unnamed boy suddenly raised his head with purpose and called out: “Hey!”

Tony’s thumb froze above the button he was about to push as he turned to face the boy, who looked grave, but determined. 

“Hey, I know someone is out there! I’m awake and I’m bored and I need some painkillers, so just come in and talk to me or whatever!”

Clint shared a dumfounded look with Tony and Natasha. “How does that kid even know we’re near enough to hear him?”

“Creepy sixth sense?” Natasha supposed, although she sounded uncertain. “Maybe the same one that made him aware of me watching him when I was trying to track him?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Tony ignored the assassins’ protests as he threw open the door, barging into the room.

The boy flinched heavily at the unexpected movement and the clang of the door as the metal connected with the white sidewall. “Fuck! What the…?” He glanced up, caught sight of Tony Stark’s face and froze. “Wow, I didn’t expect for you to actually listen to me.” That’s a first. He added mentally.

“How did you know we were on the other side of that wall?” Tony demanded, not beating around the bush.

“I could hear you.”

“That wall is sound proof.”

“Not sound proof enough.” Peter shrugged.

Natasha and Clint followed Tony in, flanking him at one shoulder each. Tony didn’t need to look at them to notice their disapproval of his impulsive actions. He could feel it wafting off their tense forms in cold waves.

Natasha stared at the kid intently. “What is your name?”

The kid glanced down at his clothes – the suit Stark didn’t remember designing – for some reason, before answering her. “I aren’t wearing my mask, huh?”

“You are not.”

“Well, I guess the secret is out anyway, in that case.” Peter said, sounding resigned. “I’m Peter Parker.”

Tony looked at the ceiling. “FRIDAY, please run the name Peter Parker through the data base.”

Peter glanced up at the ceiling, looking cheered at the knowledge that the AI was in the room. “Oh Friday is here? Hey Fri.” He greeted warmly, ignoring Tony’s splutter. “If I’d known you were here I wouldn’t have called the Avengers in, I would’ve just chatted with you.”

“I can find no results for the alias in our database, Boss.” Said FRIDAY. “However, two other databases support the existence of a Peter Parker matching Spider-Man’s description. One of which, is that from a high school called Midtown Tech.”

“How can he be in other databases when he isn’t in ours?” Tony asked, confused. “We have everyone in the database, even the people that don’t exist anymore due to the Snap.”

“Last time our database synchronized with other databases,  was before the Blip.” FRIDAY says. “So Peter Parker must’ve been added after our last synchronization.”

“So his identity was added in the last six months.” Tony noted, frowning. “Can you pull up those records for me?”

Peter sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound. It wasn’t like they weren’t going to find out he’d hacked into these databases by themselves, keeping quiet would only delay the inevitable minimally. “Okay, I’m just going to spare you the trouble of finding this out by yourself. I forged my identity as a student at Midtown because I wanted to go to school.”

Natasha leaned against the wall, looking intrigued, while Tony and Clint exchanged an incredulous look. “So what is your real name, then?” Asked Clint.

“Peter Parker, I just needed records to prove it.” Peter said truthfully, already really, really tired of this entire situation.

It was clear that Clint and Tony didn’t believe that at all, though Natasha was staring at Peter in what appeared to be consideration.

“Can you scan the kid’s face, one more time?” Tony prompted FRIDAY, not knowing what else to do.

“I didn’t find anything the last twenty-seven times you asked me to do this, Boss.” Reminded FRIDAY gently. “I do not think running facial recognition a twenty-eight time will make a difference.”

“Just do it.”

“No results. As I predicted, Boss.”

“Okay, so can I explain now?” Asked Peter, straightening in his seat. “I didn’t want to tell you guys because I didn’t think you’d believe me, but I don’t think I have many other options right now... I really am Peter Parker and I was really born in Queens and I actually did go to Midtown.”

“Then why would you need to forge your identity to prove that?” Tony asked, dubiously.

“Because… okay this is going to sound crazy, believe me I’m aware, but it’s true...” He took a deep breath and blurted it out before he could second-guess himself. “I’m from another universe. A parallel one, where so far the only difference I’ve been able to find, is that I exist. Which I don’t, here.”

Silence. Then: “What?”

“I’m from another universe.” Peter grappled in his mind for a way to prove it, lighting up when he got an idea. “If you let me put on my mask I could show you. I’m pretty sure that my AI records everything.”

“You have an AI?” Clint spoke up, eyes narrowing in more suspicion. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.” Peter said. “and yes, I have an AI. Her name is Karen and Mr. Stark made her for me.” He shot a pleading look in his mentor’s direction, willing this alternate version of his mentor to believe him. “Because I am not a stranger.”

“I did not make him any such thing!” Tony protested.

 Natasha held up a hand. “So you claim to know Tony well?”

“He does not.” Tony was silenced with a single glare of Natasha’s.

Peter nodded and swallowed heavily. “Yes. My Mr. Stark at least. He’s my… mentor. He found out I am Spider-Man and recruited me for a mission in Germany, to fight Captain America and his team.”

“I would never recruit a child, I was not that desperate.”

Peter was growing frustrated with Tony’s inability to think outside the box. Only six months ago the engineer had fought a purple alien, why was Peter fighting Captain America at fourteen such a stretch? “I… I fought Thanos with you Mr. Stark!”

The three Avengers flinched at Thanos’ name. “Yeah?” Tony said, voice rough.

“I was beamed up into a space-ship alongside Doctor Strange. You rescued me and sent me home, but I sneaked into the space-ship anyway. You called the space-ship a huge flying donut, which was… accurate.”

Tony stilled at this detail. He remembered that nickname, Strange hadn’t been impressed. Was this kid… telling the truth?

“You were quite mad I disobeyed you and I am sorry about that Mr. Stark, but I wanted to help…”

“What happened then?” Natasha asked.

Peter swallowed, eyes going to the floor as they started to prickle. “We landed on Titan and fought Thanos.” He said, voice hushed. “Doctor Strange gave him the time stone to save Mr. Stark’s life and then… the guardians of the galaxy disappeared and then Doctor Strange disappeared and then…” Peter choked. “I disappeared.”

Clint stared, eyes growing impossibly wide. “Holy shit… are you a victim of the Dusting?”

“Yes.” Peter emphasized, thankful that someone was catching on. “Thanos probably succeeded in finding the last infinity stone, because I disappeared and it hurt like hell. I have a healing factor, so my body kept on trying to keep me together… I didn’t just vanish like everyone else. I felt my body decompose.”

Everyone in the room shuddered. Tony’s head was spinning. This kid knew stuff that he couldn’t have known unless he was actually involved in the battle. The mere idea of some alternate version of himself being stupid enough to bring a kid to fight Thanos made him nauseous.

“If you’d just let me put on my mask, I could ask Karen to pull up my visuals. I can prove this to you.” Peter looked beseechingly at his mentor, eyes shining a little with unshed tears.

The three Avengers shared uneasy looks, not quite sure how much they could trust this boy, no matter how candid he seemed. They walked to the corner of the room and discussed under their breaths, unaware of the fact that Peter could hear every whisper. “You think it’s a trick?” Tony asked, desperate for Natasha to say yes. “I think it’s a trick, this can’t be true.”

“I don’t know, Tony.” Said Natasha softly. “He doesn’t look like much of one to deceive us, to me. I don’t think he’s a threat.”’

“If even Nat says he seems harmless, then we know we can trust the kid.” Clint said peering over his shoulder at the kid they were discussing, who’d ducked his head sniffing softly. Talking about what had supposedly happened to him had clearly upset him. “Nat is like… the most paranoid person I know.”

“Are we just conveniently forgetting he kicked Rogers into the hospital?” Tony asked, temporarily distracted, incredulous by Clint’s usage of the word ‘harmless.’

“I didn’t say he wasn’t dangerous, I said I don’t think he’s a threat. Not to us.” Natasha didn’t look away from the boy, who’d straightened up again, lifting his face, exposing the tear tracks on his cheeks to the lights overhead. 

Tony couldn’t deny that the sight made his heart twist a little. This kid was hurt. Traumatized. Was it his fault? Had he really brought this kid to fight the Rogue Avengers, pulling him into the dangerous superhero world, like universe’s most irresponsible mentor ever?

“It’s like his face is made of glass.” Natasha continued softly, heart clenching in an unusual manner. “I don’t even need my spy training to see he’s afraid, sincere and mainly very, very sad.”

“Maybe he’s acting?” Tony offered, even though he didn’t think so himself. He just desperately needed the boy’s story to be untrue. He didn’t think he could cope with the knowledge that something as unhinged as the multiverse is reality, nor with the fact that this was his mentee, his kid, his responsibility.

Tony was absolutely convinced that he was the worst father-figure on the planet and he was already screwing up with Harley. He didn’t want to be in the position to screw this kid up too and he didn’t want it to be his alternate self’s fault, that this kid was in the situation he was in, in the first place.   

Clint shot Tony a disbelieving look. “He looks pretty damn sincere to me.”

Tony sighed and raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. We’ll let him use his mask.” He tried to cover up the resignation in his voice by adding a mocking comment: “If this goes sideways, you two get to tell Rogers though.”

They walked back over to Peter. “You have our permission to use your mask to try and convince us.”

Peter smiled, relieved. It didn’t look as convincing with the tear-tracks he couldn’t wipe away still visible. “My hands are tied, so I’m going to need one of you to activate it.”

“How does your mask thingy work?” After a short explanation that revealed it was quite straightforward, Tony patted the kid’s chest and the mask appeared. “Nanotech.” Tony murmured under his breath. “I made you a suit using nano-technology?” You must have meant a lot to me...

“You called it the Iron Spider.” Peter responded, shocking Tony who hadn’t expected the kid to hear him. “You first showed it to me when you offered to make me part of the Avengers. I refused to be a part of the team though, so I only got it much later, when I started running out of air in space.”

Clint shook his head in awe. “You’ve been in space. You’re sixteen and you’ve been in space. You must be the youngest person to have ever to left earth.”

The mask retracted and Peter grinned hesitantly at the archer. “That’s what my friend Ned will say… if he isn’t permanently Dusted that is, which I’m not sure of.”

Tony just stared at the boy as he chatted to his AI named Karen for a while, sounding polite and fond in a way that people weren’t usually to artificial life. He’d been kind to FRIDAY too, sounding familiar with her, as if they’d met before… shit, this kid was totally being truthful.

Lasers appeared out of Peter’s mask’s eyes, a hologram showing the events exactly as Peter had explained them.

Peter closed his eyes, when they arrived at his death, but the Avengers didn’t allow themselves that courtesy. They, like Peter had had to the first time around, suffered through every painstaking minute of pleading and despair. Tony had never seen himself look as utterly wrecked, as he’d been in the video. Clint had never seen Tony so parental. Natasha had never seen Tony so pitifully human.

A solemn silence fell, as the video recording stopped. Tony looked at the kid in front of him with new eyes. “You okay, kid?” He asked softly. “You’re not still in pain?”

Peter looked up with a semblance of hope in his brown doe-eyes, but he sounded subdued as he whispered: “I’m good, Mr. Stark.”

“Call me Tony.” Tony said, as he leaned over to free the boy from his restraints. “Mr. Stark is your mentor and perhaps he deserved the respect, but I’m just… call me Tony.”

“Okay.” Peter whispered, massaging his sore wrists when the cuffs fell off, clattering to the floor loudly. “Tony.”

For a second Tony just stared at Peter, before he awkwardly lay a hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing gently, which always seemed to comfort Harley well enough. “You should be seen by a doctor, kiddo.”

Peter gave a small smile. “Maybe.” He admitted. His head was still hurting badly as was his whole body actually, now that he was on his feet.

“C’mon маленький паук.” Said Natasha gently, gesturing for Peter to follow her.

Tony made to follow, but Clint held him back. “Hey. I don’t mean to interfere and know you’re new to this kid-thing, but I’ve noticed it with Harley and I notice it now again… these kids look up to you and you’re trying, I see that, but they need more than a friendly slap on the shoulder.”

Tony looked uncomfortable. “What do you mean?”

“Your father…” Clint said hesitantly. “Your father didn’t give you much of an example on parental affection, huh?”  

Tony pursed his lips. “Not quite, no.” He said, sounding more clipped than he meant. “Why?”

Clint looked a little sorry for him, as he said. “A hug, Tony. You’re doing good, but Harley needs a hug every now and again. And Peter… Peter needs one right now. From you. Because you are the closest thing he has to someone he knows and cares about.”

At Tony’s stunned silence, Clint smiled sadly, clapping Tony on the shoulder in support. “Just something to think about, Tones.” With that, he turned and followed Natasha and Peter to the MedBay.  

Tony waited a little longer, processing what Clint had said. He was right… Tony had never received hugs from Howard, but he’d seen other kids hugged by their parents. And Tony had been hugged by his mother, something he’d treasured and missed after her passing. Harley probably missed the warmth of his mother’s embrace just as much as Tony sometimes did. Tony wasn’t just substituting as Harley’s father, but also his mother now that he’d lost her in the Snap. Of course Harley could use some affection in that way from Tony now that his mom was gone. And Peter too, since he’d left whoever had been the person to hug and take care of him – whether that was his alternate self or a parent or guardian – behind in this other universe.

He… could do that. He could be that, for these kids. He was the worst parental figure in the world and he and his alternate version both had probably messed up a thousand times… but this was something he could do, to help these kids.

Determined, Tony made his way to the MedBay. If he hadn’t already been planning to hold Peter close, he would’ve done it instinctively at the way the boy seemed so uncertain and uncomfortable on the hospital bed he was sitting on, as a doctor put in an IV with strong enough pain medication for it to work despite Peter’s enhancements.

Peter seemed to relax a little bit, when Tony entered the room and sat on his bed, looking at his newest protégé worriedly. “You alright?”

“Yeah, Mr.- Tony.” Peter said, nodding, relaxing bit by bit as the meds started to do what they were supposed to. The tension lining his shoulders dissipated and Peter sagged a little into his pillow. “Oh, wow, that’s some of the good stuff.” He slurred, eye-lids a little heavier than normal.  

Tony took a deep fortifying breath, finding Clint’s supportive gaze, before gently tugging the kid closer and engulfing him in a hug. A tight hug. Peter stiffened a little in surprise for a moment, Mr. Stark had never hugged him before after all, they weren’t there yet… but then he melted into the embrace. Peter had always been a tactile person, especially when he was tired, cuddling with Ned on sleepovers and hugging May every chance he got. He hadn’t realized how badly he missed physical affection the past few days, until just now.

The combination of the drugs and the safety and comfort Tony’s arms provided, made tears well up in Peter’s eyes as his control slipped and the sadness he’d been pushing down since Titan started to boil over. He felt as if Tony had tapped into his emotions and turned on the tap, giving Peter no choice but to let go of the mask that had so far hid the cracks in his smile whenever he looked into the mirror. He couldn’t stop the tears from coming and neither did he want to anymore, as he sobbed in Tony’s arms, allowing himself to cry for the first time since his visit to Ben and May’s grave on his very first day here.

Natasha leaned over and kissed Peter’s hair, before leaving with Clint to give Tony and Peter some privacy. Peter cried for a long time and Tony just held him close, rubbing soothing circles on the kid’s back, never letting go. Almost, as if Tony was holding him together until Peter was capable of doing it himself again.  

“Sorry.” Sniffed Peter, eventually, when the tears finally slowed.

“Don’t apologize, Pete, you’ve done nothing wrong.”  Tony said. “I’m the one who is sorry, kid.” Tony said, apologizing for so much more than just chasing and arresting the kid which had hurt him in the process.

“It’s okay, I was acting shady, I would’ve chased and arrested me too.” Peter said, unable to help himself from nuzzling a little further into Tony’s arms. It was unfamiliar, but it felt right somehow. If he wasn’t high on extra strong morphine right now, Peter would’ve been embarrassed by the realization that he felt home for the very first time since arriving in this reality.

“Not just that... I’m sorry for all the ways my other self has endangered you too. I don’t know what he was thinking…” Tony whispered in the teenager’s hair.

“It’s not your fault.” Peter defended, voice sounding muffled against Tony’s shoulder. “and it isn’t Mr. Stark’s fault either, I decided to go to Titan all on my own, it’s my responsibility, all Mr. Stark ever did was try and protect me.”

“I wish he’d been successful.” Tony admitted quietly, running his hand through Peter’s brown curls. “You didn’t deserve to be displaced in the multiverse like this. I’m sorry that this happened to you, Peter. I can’t imagine….” Tony’s voice cut off, not sure how to describe how awful Peter must’ve felt. “I… I wish I could’ve protected you from it. I wish one of us could’ve protected you.”

There, sitting on the feet of a hospital bed, with a teenager huddled in his arms, Tony made a promise to himself, the kid in his arms and the kid that was sulking in his bedroom somewhere within the compound.

His alternate self, had let Peter down and he himself, had been a bad father-figure to Harley. He’d been focusing on the loss of Pepper and Rhodey and let his own father’s inability to love affect his treatment of Harley. But not anymore. No longer would he mourn the family he’d lost. From now on, he’d protect the one he’d gained.

Chapter Text

Peter was launching on his unusually comfortable hospital bed, using Tony’s phone to surf the internet in an attempt to familiarize himself with this universe and find any differences between his home and this parallel version, other than his own non-existence. 

It was nice to get the chance to. So far, Peter had been way too busy sustaining himself to get a read on the place he was trying to survive. It was also a calming activity to keep him busy while he waited for the last of his drugs to pass through his system. Peter was due to be discharged as soon as someone from the medical staff would take the time to walk over and clear him officially.

Tony had left a while ago, something about having a quick chat with a Harley before dinner, though Peter was struggling to comprehend that this version of his mentor was obsessed enough with motorcycles to talk to them.

Despite the oddness of imagining Tony Stark leaving his bedside to talk to a machine, Peter didn’t mind being left alone for a while. He had been alone a lot since the Snap and although he had missed having company, it was also overwhelming to have it back so suddenly. Especially with the intensity with which Tony was present.

There where it had cost Peter a lot of effort to get Mr. Stark to not panic and run away as soon as Peter entered a room back in his own reality, this Tony was surprisingly clingy and tactile. The fact that Tony had given Peter a hug mere minutes after officially meeting him was proof enough that Tony and Mr. Stark were not the same person, no matter how much they looked alike.

Peter was just reading up on the Accords, curious as to how the battle in Germany had gone without his presence, when someone knocked on the door.

Peter straightened, expecting the doctor, but he winced a little when he recognized Captain America leaning against the doorpost. “Hey there,” Steve greeted softly. “I heard that you were released from confinement.”

Steve Rogers wasn’t wearing his famous uniform, instead wearing comfortable looking sweatpants and an earnest, worried expression. Despite their last interaction, he didn’t look remotely upset with Peter, though he did looked as banged up as Peter had felt before being dosed with enough painkillers to sedate a horse. He had bandages around his chest and he was still limping a little, as he approached to sit on the chair beside Peter’s bed. “FRIDAY told me you’d be here. Are you very hurt?”

“I’m sorry for kicking you, I didn’t mean to injure you.” Peter blurted, putting the phone down to look at Steve, eyes wide with concern. Steve didn’t seem to be in too much pain, but Peter still worried. He didn’t often strike or kick without holding back and he honestly had no idea how much damage he could actually do. The idea that Captain America had been a guinea pig made goosebumps erupt on his skin and his chest tighten uncomfortably. What if he’d been stronger? What if he’d killed Steve?   

“It’s alright.” Steve reassured him, looking a bit sheepish. “I had it coming, didn’t I? I mean, I made you fall down several stories, I’m the one that should be apologizing.”                      

“It’s okay.” Peter dismissed the incident. He’d taken worse tumbles and the Steve of his universe had dropped an airport gangway on him when they’d first met. This one causing him to fall some feet seemed rather mild compared to that. 

“It isn’t okay. You’re a kid.” Steve said, sounding pained by that very fact. “FRIDAY showed me the recording of your interrogation. How you got here… you didn’t deserve the way we hunted you down.”

“It’s fine.” Peter repeated what he’d said to Tony on the subject earlier. “I was acting shady as fuck, I would’ve chased and arrested me too.”

Steve visibly repressed the urge to scold Peter for his language-use. He muttered something along the lines of “this is why one shouldn’t let Tony be in charge of a child…” before telling Peter: “I met your doctor in the hallway and I’ve got your discharge papers here, if you’d be okay with me leading you to the living room instead of Tony.”

“Oh. Yeah, that would be great.” Peter was more taken aback by the implications of these words, than he wanted to admit. Some small part of him had expected to be kicked out of the compound as soon as he was discharged from the MedBay – he’d proven he wasn’t a danger after all and that’s all this version of the Avengers had wanted in the first place – but apparently that wasn’t going to happen.

Steve looked honest to god confused, when Peter tentatively asked why he wasn’t being brought back to Queens, as Steve led him to the living room area, where Natasha had made dinner that Peter was supposedly also invited to join.

“Why would you want to go back to Queens?” Steve asked, sounding genuinely puzzled as they walked. “Do you even have a place to stay?”

“Well no, but…”

“You really think we’d let a sixteen year old child, go back to living on the streets alone?”

“Uhm.” Peter hesitated. Maybe he should’ve guessed that heroes would’ve had problems with that kind of thing, but if he was honest… yes, he’d really thought that. “Well you all don’t know me, so I am really not your problem.” He tried to explain. Apparently something about his words bothered Steve greatly, because the super soldier looked mightily saddened all of a sudden.

Before Peter could ask what was wrong or apologize for whatever he’d said to upset Steve, they arrived in the living room area. The room looked identical to the living room Peter had spent quite some time in, in his own universe.

Clint and Natasha were laying out plates and cutlery at the dinner table, while Tony and a blonde boy that seemed little older than Peter were sitting on the couch together, chatting.

“Harley,” Steve called out as he and Peter stepped into the room. He sounded low-key depressed. “Please tell me that not all kids nowadays have no faith in the good of humanity?”

“What do you mean?” Asked the unknown boy, in an southern accent that took Peter by surprise.

“Peter here, just said he’d expected us to kick him out of the compound to survive New York all alone. Homeless, in the winter, without a guardian and without helping him get food, or money or anything… simply because he wasn’t our problem.” 

Clint and Natasha faltered mid-setting the table, both looking up at Peter, looking equally as upset as Steve had been. Tony looked up too, also appearing distressed to hear what Steve had to say.

Peter felt himself flush under their stares. “Well no, if you say it like that it sounds bad, but…”

“But nothing.” Tony said, standing and resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder when he reached him. “You’re Other Me’s responsibility, and his absence, you’re my responsibility. I refuse to take you back to the city so you can live on the streets or whatever you've been doing lately, in the middle of winter.”

“and even if you weren’t Tony’s responsibility we wouldn’t have abandoned you either.” Natasha added softly. “You’re a kid, you need protection.”

Peter flushed further in embarrassment. “I was doing fine on my own.” He retorted weakly, not because he wasn’t grateful for them wanting to help, but because he disliked the fact that they made him feel dumb for not expecting this. 

“Sure.” Natasha said, voice still gentle in a way that reminded Peter painfully of May. “But you don’t have to be fine on your own. You could be doing great if you’d accept some help.”

“You want to help me? Despite not knowing me?” Peter repeated, choosing disbelief over being disappointment later on. He’d really expected to be alone forever and then the Avengers had captured and believed him and Tony had hugged him and now…

“You help people every day without knowing them.” The blond boy pointed out.

Peter didn’t quite know what to say to that, since it was irrefutably true. He looked at the boy, wondering who he was. He was quite certain that he hadn’t met a version of this teen in his own universe.

“Good point, Scoot.” Tony said enthusiastically, resting one arm around Peter’s shoulder and wrapping his second around Harley’s. “So kid, you absolutely cannot refuse our help without being a hypocrite. In other words, you’re staying.”

Clint cheered in the background, hugging Natasha exaggeratedly as she rolled her eyes fondly at his antics, looking quite pleased herself to know that Peter would be staying. Peter felt his lips tick up a little, feeling his chest warm at the fact that these people genuinely seem to want him around, even while knowing he wasn’t supposed to be in their universe. 

“You can have a bedroom on Harley’s floor, he’s got too much space for a teenager anyway.” Tony said, squeezing both Peter and Harley’s shoulders as he looked down on them with a gentle smile. “Oh, that is right, I almost forgot to introduce you guys. Peter, meet Harley, the only kid I’ve ever tolerated. Harley, this is Peter, presumably the only kid an alternate version of myself has ever chosen to put up with.”

Harley stepped forward and extended his hand to Peter. “I’m Harley Keener.” He said, smiling at Peter. “Big fan of the way you stick criminals to walls.”

Peter’s smile broadened from ear to ear. “Peter Parker.” He introduced himself to Harley, shaking Harley’s hand. “Tony going off to talk to a Harley suddenly makes a lot more sense.”

Tony laughed. “See, Scooter? People do think of motorbikes when they hear your name.”

Harley punched Tony’s shoulder non-too-gently.

Peter’s brown eyes darted from Tony to Harley and back again, taking in their easy camaraderie and Tony’s nicknames. “Are you Tony’s me from this universe or something?”

Natasha laughed at the question, unable to help finding the way he posted the question endearing.

“He broke into my garage a few years ago.” Harley said, as if that explained everything. “Did he break into yours?”

Peter stared at Harley incredulously. “No. Why on earth would a billionaire break into a garage?”

“You mean to say that you met Tony under normal circumstances?” The disbelief etched into Harley’s features showed how improbable he found this claim.

“Yeah.” Peter thought that question through and corrected himself. “Well, to be fair, no. He sort of showed up at my apartment uninvited, flirted with my aunt, and then basically kidnapped me to Germany to fight Captain America.”

Silence fell. The Avengers had already known this, but Harley clearly hadn’t if his startled, wide eyes were anything to go by. He stared at Peter, just as incredulous as Peter had been just seconds earlier. “What in the Sam Hill?” He turned to Tony, eyes sparkling in amusement as he deadpanned: “Tony, you are truly madder than a wet hen!”

“That was his Tony Stark, I had nothing to do with that!” Protested Tony huffily. “I still don’t know what that guy was thinking bringing a kid to a fight...” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Stop throwing shade at Mr. Stark, that’s my mentor you’re talking about. He’s a good person.”

“He sounds like a danger to society.” Steve said, earning a glare from their compound’s newest inhabitant.

Peter opened his mouth to tell Steve about his reality’s Steve dropping part of an airport on him, but before he could, Clint cut in, faux-seriously: “He’s not so different from our Tony Stark then, that’s not new information Cap. C’mon, let’s eat.”

Everyone but Peter laughed at Tony and Mr. Stark’s expense, even Tony. As the others sat down, Tony squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “No one is judging your mentor, kid,” he reassured. “he must’ve been a great guy to have done such an incredible job mentoring you.”

Peter sighed and returned Tony’s smile with a small one of his own. “I know, I just… I miss him.”

“I bet he misses you too.” Tony said, voice laced in understanding. “I barely know you, but I know I’d miss you if you went away right now.”

Peter stared at Tony, genuinely surprised by how sincere Tony sounded and looked as he said something that kind. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Tony said, looking down at Peter softly. “I don’t know what about you makes you so easy to attach to, maybe it was seeing Other Me lose you,  but you’re a good kid, Peter. I know you’re your Tony’s kid, but as far as I’m concerned you’re my kid too, at least for as long as you’re here. Even if that is forever.”

Peter couldn’t help but be the one to dart forward for an embrace this time. Sunshine flooded his soul as he felt Tony easily return the hug. “You’re welcome here as long as you want, kid.” Tony said, squeezing Peter close. “And even if you want to leave, you’re not going back to living on the street. We’re going to help you. You’re not alone anymore.”

Peter pulled back before he could embarrass himself by bursting into tears again. “Thank you.” He said in a soft voice.

“No need to thank me.” Tony nudged Peter gently and motioned to the table with a quick nod of his head. “You ready for a bite?”

Chapter Text

Peter only had to stay in a guest room for a single night. Tony had gotten him a room on Harley’s floor by sunrise the very next morning and with Tony, FRIDAY, Natasha, Clint and Harley’s help, Peter made it his own.  

He found himself mirroring his own bedroom in May’s apartment closely, choosing the same wallpaper, posters, closet and desk. Only the pictures that had adorned his old bedroom’s walls were missing. Strangely enough, Peter missed these less, than he missed the comforting scent of home that his Queens apartment had provided. It was a detail that was not there and could not be imitated.

Even more than this lack of familiarity staining the air, Peter missed the feeling of knowing where he belonged. In his own universe, but even too in the life he’d solitarily built in this one, he’d always pretty much known what he was supposed to do and where his life was going, at least in a broad sense. He’d always had a vague focal point, a certain sense of direction and purpose, that kept him going and kept his anxiety in check.

Now Peter felt adrift, thrown off-balance. Stationary, like a car that had had to slow down due to a sudden fog, because it couldn’t see which way the road wound and what options there were for turning.

It made him edgy. Peter had always been on the move. In his own universe he’d taken note of and analyzed nearly all the variables and factors that could shape his life. Before Thanos, he’d felt prepared for all the turns that his life path could take.

Then he’d been taken by surprise anyway and Peter ended up on an unknown road. But even there he had been able to maintain his steady pace, working tirelessly to familiarize himself with the new route and terrain, bending over backwards to predict the possible destinations this road could lead to.

Then his life had been upheaved again and now Peter felt both disoriented and less and less confident about his ability to estimate where his life was going in this ever-changing, uncharted territory.

Personally, Peter believed he would have fared better at adapting to his new life, if he’d had the distraction and normality of spending his day as Spider-Man. Unfortunately, none of the people in his newest home seemed very eager to take him back to fight criminals in Queens.

“No way kid, you just left MedBay. What if you got hurt?” Tony said, when Peter first announced his plans to go on patrol.

“It would be irresponsible of us to let a child face off against armed people lacking morals alone.” Steve had said later, when asked for a ride, shaking his head at Peter. “I don’t know what the adults in your universe were thinking, but I’m not giving you the green light to put yourself at risk.” The hero clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing sympathetically, before walking away.

Peter didn’t have any more luck with Natasha. “You’re still recovering and settling in, Маленький Паук, give it some time.”

Or Clint. “If you got hurt because I let you go out unsupervised, Tony and Nat will kill me and I will have nightmares for the rest of my life, so no. No amount of pouting is going to convince me, Pete.”  

It didn’t seem to matter how much Peter begged to let off some steam in the form of vigilantism. None of the heroes appeared to understand that Peter needed to lose his anxious energy somehow and patrol was the only outlet he’d ever had.

“I’m not asking for permission! I’ve been going out in the middle of the night without back-up since I was fourteen!” Peter shouted defensively at the frowning adults in front of him, face red with exasperated frustration. He’d tried to sneak out after midnight, hoping to avoid the Avengers’ meddling, but FRIDAY had alerted Tony and Natasha, the little snitch.

“We know that you’re apparently used to being left to your own devices and working alone, but that’s not what we do around here, kid.” Tony sighed. “We’re a team and when we disagree on something we don’t go out and do our own thing behind the rest of the team’s back.”

“I’m not an Avenger! I’m not part of your team, so you don’t get to bench me!”

Hurt flashed over Tony’s face, before he carefully tucked it away.  “I never said I was benching you.”

“You’re controlling me and treating me like a child in need of scolding.” Peter said, hostility unlike any he’d ever shown a Tony Stark before palpable in his voice.

“We’re not trying to control you, we’re trying to protect you.” Tony argued.

“We just want you to be safe.” Natasha added calmly, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter felt the fight bleed out of him as he stared into Natasha’s gentle green eyes. “I’m not just a kid. I’m a superhero.” He mumbled petulantly, succeeding only in sounding more like a child than ever.

“We’re not saying that you can never go out to do your thing.” Natasha reassured him. “We just don’t want you to do it alone.”

“And we don’t want you to take on too much at once and get hurt because of it.” Tony added. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“Exactly. Anyone in your shoes would be overwhelmed and there’s no need to up the pressure before you’re ready.”

Peter felt himself deflate even further, feeling a stab of guilt as he took in the sincerity on Tony and Natasha’s faces. “but I am ready.” He whispered. “Being Spider-Man is the only thing I have left from my old life. The only thing that gives me purpose.”

 “and you’re not banned from doing it.” Tony repeated. “just please, for the sake of my hair color, take one of us with you.”

That’s why the next day, the New Yorkers in Queens were treated to the sight of Spider-Man and Black Widow jumping from roof to roof as they made their way through the neighborhood.

“I can see the appeal to working in a team now.” Peter smirked as he watched Natasha take down a guy that was harassing a group of girls outside a Starbucks. Natasha straightened and grinned as Peter webbed the downed man to the sidewalk.

“I must say that I understand why you were so eager to get out here and beat up scumbags.  Fighting rogue AI's and aliens is fun, but taking down low-life crime has its own special charm.”

Peter snorted through his mask, as he assisted Natasha in climbing to the roof of the Starbucks’ building. “Oh believe me, I’ll take New York’s worst over Thanos any day.”

Natasha went quiet at the mention of the purple titan and Peter felt rather than saw the tension suddenly radiating off of her taut form. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I don’t mean to keep bringing him up.”

“It’s okay.” Natasha dismissed, sitting down on the roof’s ledge for a short break. “It’s happened even more recently for you, it’s natural you feel the need to talk about it.”

Peter lowered himself onto the ledge beside her, pulling off his mask. “Did you feel the need to talk about it at first, after the Snap?”

Natasha glanced sideways at the boy. “No.” She admitted. “Talking about it is an important part of processing, accepting and moving on, I just… I didn’t. Talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“I lost the team. I lost my family.” Natasha looked away from Peter’s wide, brown doe-eyes. “and I don’t want to process and accept that, I don’t want to move on, because… because it feels like a betrayal to the ones that are lost.”

Natasha eyes glittered suspiciously, as she stared out over the bustling city beneath them. It was lively, busy, but not as lively and busy as it should’ve been. The city’s brightness seemed dimmed with invisible shadows, cast by the lingering presence of those that should’ve walked these streets too.

Peter stared at Natasha, not quite sure what to say.

Natasha blinked and straightened, mask falling back into place as she reigned in her emotions. She looked over at Peter with a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No need for the long face, маленький паук.” She said with a forced lightness to her voice. “I have no need to complain. Sure, I lost part of my family, but so did half of the world. At least I still have Clint left. And Steve. And Tony and Harley. And you.”

Peter felt his cheeks warm a little at Natasha mentioning him as part of her family, despite the short amount of time that they’d known each other. “Me?”

Natasha nodded, opening up to the point of being vulnerable in a way Peter would’ve never imagined he’d see the most badass woman alive. “If there is even a small part of you that wants to stay, please do. The compound has been feeling empty since the others were taken away… I’d like to think that you were brought here to fill that void.”

Touched, Peter scooted a little bit closer to Natasha, laying his head on her shoulder. “Thank you.” He whispered. Natasha wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding him to her side. They sat together quietly for a while.

“Is really everybody else… gone?” Peter asked carefully, not wanting to upset Natasha further, but needing to hear it to believe it. The fact that so many of his heroes hadn’t survived hurt and Peter wasn’t about to believe it unless he heard it from a reliable source.

Natasha winced a little at the question. “Not… everyone.” She said, hesitantly. “Bruce and Thor are still around, we just don’t see them much.”

Peter’s head snapped up in surprise. “Really? Where are they?”

“Bruce is in his lab. He doesn’t come out much, we don’t really know what he’s doing.” Natasha admitted softly. “He’s taken the loss hard.”

“He’s at the Compound?” A slow smile built on Peter’s face as the surprising information sank in. “Why did nobody say something? Don’t tell me Thor has secretly been so close too, he’s my favorite Avenger!”

That made Natasha smile a little, Peter’s child-like excitement brightening her day just the littlest bit. “Sorry to disappoint, but Thor is in New Asgard.”

“Oh, his own planet, that does make sense... He should be here, though, not in space. He’s part of the team, part of the family.”

“Asgard was destroyed, so he isn’t too far away. The survivors are living on earth now.”

“Destroyed?” Peter shook his head as if to dispel the many questions that immediately popped up, instead choosing to focus on the single most pressing question in his fanboy mind. “So Thor is occasionally coming over then?”

“Not really. He’s mourning his planet and his brother.”

Peter couldn’t help but sag a little in disappointment at this piece of information. “I suppose it makes sense Thor wants to be with his planets people…” He admitted reluctantly. “Is there really no one else in the superhero business left?”

“I suppose you could count Carol Danvers, but she’s helping other planets.” Natasha answered after a moment of thought. “And Happy Hogan.” She then added as an afterthought, much to Peter’s delight.

Peter perked up, chest swelling with a mixture of relief and joy. “Happy is alive? Thank god!”

“You know Happy?” Natasha asked, amused.

“Yeah, he was my point of contact before Mr. Stark started a more hands on approach with my mentoring.”

“Happy?” Natasha couldn’t keep herself from laughing at that a little. “Tony must’ve done that to bully him, there’s no other reason for him to make Happy work with a bouncy ball of a child like you.”

“He just pretends to not like me, he loves me really.” Peter pouted.

Natasha smiles at Peter, feeling warmth blossom in her chest. “I don’t doubt it,  маленький паук.”

Chapter Text

The remainder of the holiday period appeared to be blissful on the surface. Peter continued to go out on patrol with Natasha to dispel his nervous energy, bonded with Harley over a mutual love for mechanics and generally had a good time living with the Avengers he’d grown up idolizing.

Sure, Peter had nightmares where he choked as he crumbled to dust agonizingly slowly, Thanos laughing in the background. He dreamed of May, alone and miserable in her apartment and of Mr. Stark, left all alone on Titan, starving to death with no way home.  

He saw Ned and MJ disappearing in clouds of dust, as if they’d never even been there in the first place and for some reason even the bad dreams of Uncle Ben, dreams that he hadn’t had for years, came back to taunt him.

But did that matter in the grand scheme of things, really, when Captain America himself taught Peter how to make blueberry pancakes according to Momma Roger’s recipe? When sparring with Black Widow was part of his morning routine and the Iron Man he’d obsessed over as a child easily wrapped his arm around his shoulder on movie night? When he had found a brother-like figure in Harley and Clint Barton shared epic stories of his past missions over dinner?

So what, if his nights were filled with horror and defeat, if his days were filled with geeking out in Tony’s lab and holiday cheer?

But as Christmas time evanesced, 2018 passed to make room for the new year and the holiday period came up at its end, Peter started to grow restless again. The kind of restlessness that shook him from the inside out, making him as jittery and apprehensive about waking up, as he was about going to sleep.

The vacation time had been a good break. A remedial bubble had formed around the compound and the broken world outside, but the day of the inevitable popping of that very bubble came ever closer and Peter worried. Worried, about going back to school even though that was what he’d so desperately wanted before he had retreated and this safe, homey environment.

He worried about seeing what little remained of his classmates and having to face the reality that Ned and MJ and so many others, were really gone for good and not out there somewhere, like he sometimes tried to trick himself into believing to make waking up in the morning more bearable.

Peter was in one of these melancholy moods, just staring out the window without seeing anything, silently drowning in worrisome thoughts, when Tony and Natasha approached him, both looking unusually nervous.

Natasha joined Peter on the windowsill, gently kicking his foot with her own. “Hey, маленький паук. Why the long face?”

Peter’s eyes snapped away from blue sky outside to meet Natasha’s caring green eyes. “Oh, just thinking.” He said quietly, shaking his head as if dismissing his own thoughts. “What’s up?”

Natasha eyed him speculatively, clearly sensing the lie, but she didn’t press. “Tony and I were hoping to talk to you about something. If you’re in the mood for it.”

Peter looked from Natasha and Tony, noting how nervous mainly Tony seemed. It made him nervous. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Tony said immediately, though the way he then continued to ramble on indicated that something was up after all. “Yes, yes, everything is fine. It’s just about the future. You know. Adult stuff. Or, well, teen stuff too, since the new term is about to kick off and you’re a teenager that needs to go to school…”

“Okay.” Peter said. “Well, what about it? You guys don’t have to do anything. I told you guys already, that I made sure I could go to Midtown. I even paid for it.”

Tony huffed, amused. “Oh right, yeah you have everything under control and don’t need our help. Remind me again how you made sure you could go to Midtown? By hacking the school system, forging your identity and paying with stolen money, am I right?”  

Peter flushed a little. “My identity’s hardly forged and I only took money from very rich people that wouldn’t miss it.” He protested, before quickly adding: “And I don’t think of it as stolen, it was an… involuntarily investment. I’m going to pay it back.”

“No need, kid, I already fixed it.”

“You have?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want you to go to jail for fraud.” Tony said. “No offense to your hacking skills, you really did beautifully, but FRIDAY is better. She returned all the money to their original bank accounts and erased you from Midtown’s files. No traces left of you, or any shadiness.”

“But… but I can’t afford to go back to school without that money.” Peter said, almost indignantly. “I know stealing’s wrong, but I need-“

“I can pay for your schooling. I’m a billionaire, kid, it’s no problem.”

“But… but… okay, thanks?” Peter stuttered, flustered, but still ticked off and confused. “But if that’s so, why did you have FRIDAY erase me from Midtown’s files, then? I didn’t break into their database for shits and giggles, I can’t enroll through the proper channels! Do you know how much effort it was to get my name and grades in there in the first place?”

“Calm down, Peter.” Natasha said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, okay? Everything is going to be fine. Tony and I have been in this business for a long time, we know what we’re doing. The fake identity you created showed some cracks, so I created a new one for you, with which you don’t need to go through the back channels to get an education.”

“No you don’t get it, my identity wasn’t the problem.” Peter frowned, shaking his head. “I can’t just sign up for a school. I’m underage, I need parents for that. Which, and in case you’ve forgotten, I don’t have.”

Natasha winced a little at Peter’s blunt reminder of the fact that he was an orphan. “I didn’t forget about that.” She said, keeping her voice calm and soft. “but with the new identification that I fabricated for you, we could officially enroll you.”

“What do you mean, I’d need parental signatures for that and I clearly don’t have that…” Peter trailed off. “Wait. We?”

Natasha and Tony shared a nervous look. Then, Natasha handed Peter a paper. It was a birth certificate. For Peter Stark-Romanoff. Peter stared at the certificate with wide eyes, temporarily rendered speechless.

Tony shifted nervously on the spot, his eternal self-assurance and confident charisma nowehere to be seen. “Listen, if you don’t like it, we can change it and think of some other way to ensure that you can safely and legally stay with us, but…”

“You want to adopt me?” Peter interrupted. “Seriously?”

Tony massaged the back of his neck, sheepishly. “Technically we’d claim you’re our biological son, but yes, I suppose you could call it-“ His voice cut off as Peter flung him around the middle, shoulders shocking.

Surprised, Tony looked over Peter’s shoulder at Natasha, confusedly patting Tony’s back, before quickly wrapping his arms around the upset teenager. “Hey, you okay, kiddo?” He asked, softly. “If you hate the idea you can say so.”

“N-no, that’s not it.” Peter said softly, pulling back and sitting back down on the window sill, beside Nat. His eyes were red around the rims and his cheeks sticky. “I do like the idea… I just… I don’t know. Didn’t expect for you to want that.”

“Of course we’d want to, Peter.” Natasha said softly, putting an arm around his shoulder and squeezing him to her side. “You wanna know a secret? I’ve always wanted children. And ever since I got to know you, I’ve been thinking about how it would be to have someone as kind and selfless as you, as a son.”

“You are underestimating how attached we all are to you, already, kid.” Tony added, sounding sincere and vulnerable in a way that he just wasn’t often. Or at least, Mr. Stark wasn’t often, in Peter’s experience. “I adopted Harley after his mom and sister disappeared in the Blip.” Tony said softly. “and you know, what he told me, yesterday? That I had to get my head out of my behind and adopt you already, because he was done being a single child.”

Peter choked out a laugh at that, because it sounded like Harley alright.

“And I realized, he was right. Because I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but it doesn’t feel like that. And ever since you stepped into my life, I’ve felt like you were my kid, someone I wanted to protect, which is just how I feel about Harley. I love you just as much as I love Harley, so why would I not adopt you too?”

Peter’s face crumbled and he couldn’t really do anything other than hide his tears in Natasha’s shoulder, by hugging her tightly. Nat. His… mom. Okay, that sounded weird even in his own head. He wasn’t going call her that right away, maybe not ever if it didn’t feel right, but damn. He had a family, in this world. An actual, official, with documents to prove it, family. He wasn’t alone.

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair, as he clung to Natasha. “If you’re up to it, kiddo. There’s something else that we wanted to discuss.” He said, after a while.

Peter sniffed and rubbed at his eyes, a little embarrassed, as he pulled back. The way Natasha smiled at him with her own eyes teary, made him a little less abashed. “Sure.” He said trying to sound casual, but his voice was a bit hoarse. “What’s up?”

“Well, you know how both Nat and I are famous?”

Obviously. Peter nodded. “Yeah, of course. It’s kinda hard to miss.”

“I just wanted to prepare you for the fact that it might be a little overwhelming for you at first, if you’re going to take the identity of our son. As the kid of two Avengers you’d be in the public eye, there’s almost nothing we can do about that.” Tony explained. “That is why Nat and I were thinking… we were hoping you’d want to join Harley at Visions Academy, his school in Brooklyn.”

Peter frowned, confused. “Visions Academy?”

“It’s a very good school with some very cool arts- and science programs.” Natasha said. “I know it’s not what you had in mind and that you want to return to your old school, but would we be the worst parents in the world if we said we’d feel better if you and Harley were together? We want you to look out for each other.”

“And Harley is willing to switch to Midtown High if it’s really important to you, but he has friends at Visions and…”

“and my friends at Midtown are either gone or aren’t really my friends anymore anyway.” Peter finished for him. “because they don’t know who I am.”

Tony winced a little. “I wouldn’t have put it like that, but essentially, yes.”

Peter thought about that for a while. “I mean… Midtown wouldn’t really be the same without Ned anyway.” He then finally admitted. “I was honestly dreading going there a little because of it.”

Natasha looked relieved, at Peter’s agreement. “If you don’t like Visions, I promise you can transfer back to Midtown if that’s what you want.”

Tony nodded. “Naturally. But, I think it’s important you attend Visions at least for a little while. Because when the world discovers that Iron Man and Black Widow have had a secret kid together, the media is going to go wild and if that shit storm hits, I’d rather you have someone in your corner everywhere you go. At least in the beginning. Harley could be that at school.”

Peter hummed, thoughtfully. That definitely made sense. “And Harley’s okay with that?” He asked. He didn’t want to be a burden to Harley. They got along great now, but Peter didn’t want to be overbearing and risk that changing.

“You kidding? Harley is ecstatic.”

Peter felt himself smile. “Okay. Visions it is.”

Chapter Text

Visions Academy was a large and impressive-looking establishment that from the outside reminded Peter more of a prison building than a school. There was something off about the place and the more Harley showed Peter around, the more certain Peter felt about his first impression that the school had a grim feel to it. There was just something heavy in the air, a nearly tangible sort of wrongness, as if the walls were tainted with harsh shadows of past trauma, that couldn’t be covered up no matter how many layers of cheerfully colored paint were applied in an attempt to erase these jarring scars of the past.

The bright shades of blue, pink, yellow and green that the school seemed overrun with did nothing to hide away the fact that people had died here and nor did it conceal that most of the students and teachers that still walked through the haunted halls had witnessed at least some of these deaths and thought about them every minute they spent within the building where it had happened.

The smiles the students and staff wore were fake and the absence of those that were supposed to be present lingered more harshly somehow, in a building this large. There was simply too much room here, to forget about the void.

Or maybe Peter was just too sensitive and messed up. Maybe Harley didn’t feel anything amiss and maybe the students that had been here during the blip really didn’t have to fake every smile to stop themselves from thinking of the people they’d witnessed dissolving in front of their very eyes in these very halls.

Maybe Peter was the only one who jumped whenever he caught a glimpse of the color purple, the only one who saw May in every brunette he crossed paths with and the only one that relived choking on dust whenever he saw sand. Maybe he was simply broken and projecting his own misery onto this innocent fucking building, that was supposed to signify a new start. A new start that Peter wanted to want to embrace, but wouldn’t, when part of him was still clinging desperately to the old chapter he couldn’t bear to leave behind.

Harley continued to chatter on and on, guiding Peter through the school, introducing him to teachers and kids whose names meant nothing to Peter. They were just faces. People. Not even from his reality. God, Peter wanted to go home. And not just to the tower, to Tony and Nat, but home home to May and Ned.

He hated himself for it. It was like every time he took a step forward in accepting and adjusting to this new life, he took three steps back. Not even by outward force, but by himself. As if something deep inside of him simply didn’t want to be happy here. Couldn’t be happy here, in a world that wasn’t his own, with people that whilst real… weren’t really his.

It was a relief, when Harley finally left Peter at the classroom the latter was supposed to be, wishing him luck before going off to make it to his own class in time. Peter felt more exhausted than he ought to this early in the day, as he took a seat all the way in the back of the classroom. He just stared at his desk, eyes prickling, as this different, unfamiliar chemistry teacher droned on and on about some experiment they’d conduct and write a report on sometime this semester.

Not once, did Peter look up, volunteer an answer or interact with anyone in anyway. When the bell rang, he was the first one out the door, pretending he didn’t hear the knock-off Mr. Harrington’s attempt to call out and have him stay for a quick introductory chat.

“Excuse me, Peter, Mr. Stark-Romanoff, would you please stay-“

Not feeling up to chatting, Peter just ducked his head and attempted to quickly blend in the with the crowd of students buzzing in the hall, missing the curious looks in his classmates’ eyes as they watched the retreating back of who they were beginning to realize was Iron Man and Black Widow’s son.

Peter made his way to a classroom he’d never been before, claiming another seat at the very back and putting his book bag on the table next to him, to discourage anyone from joining him. It proved to be a prudent security measure to counter the curiosity of his peers, as word spread that the mysterious son whose existence Iron Man and Black Widow had revealed during a press conference just days ago, was supposedly here at Visions. He kept doing it in every class, all the way up to lunch.

Lunch proved to be a whole other debacle. As soon as Peter entered the cafeteria, all eyes were on him and people started to whisper and point as if he was some sort of fucking zoo animal. There were even some people waving him over hopefully, eager to get ‘the Avenger kid’ to sit at their table.

Back at Midtown, Peter and his friends had had a lunch table all for themselves, though they were occasionally joined by members of the Decathlon team. Here, at Visions, Peter had no such thing. He didn’t have friends to join, wasn’t part of a stereotypical high school clique and he frankly had no desire to change either of these facts.

Peter was half-prepared to just grab his tray and find a nice and private toilet stall, when he realized that the cafeteria – while plenty busy and loud for someone with heightened senses like him – was actually pretty vacant for the amount of available chairs. In fact, there were entire tables left untouched. Pretty much... Peter swallowed heavily... half the tables were not in use.

Half of the universe. Half of Earth’s population. Half of New York. Half of the school. Half of the cafeteria tables.

Peter felt almost guilty for the fact that he felt the slithering anxiety-snake in his stomach uncoil at the realization. These tables were empty, because their owners were dead. He could find a seat far away from everybody and nobody would complain, because there was no one to complain. He mentally picked an empty table at random – one in a shadier corner of the room – and breathed a sigh of relief at having averted a small crisis, before ducking his head and quickly making his way there.

Peter would’ve been fine sitting off to the side for the remainder of his school career, lunching alone, teaming up with random strangers for projects and spending his free time in solitude in his room, or with Harley, Nat and Tony. He’d prepared himself for that possibility, because who – besides Ned and MJ – would be stupid enough to put up with him for him and not his supposed famous family relations?

Gwen Stacy, that’s who. 

Gwen Stacy was a blonde girl with lively eyes and a bright smile that was rare nowadays. When she approached Peter, she dragged along a boy with dark skin, cool hair and duller eyes. Eyes that had seen loss. Flat eyes, that Peter recognized from looking at his own reflection in the mirror. He immediately felt a kinship with the boy, but their shared trauma must’ve not been the reason. The entire planet knew that nowadays.

As the day progressed, Gwen and Miles stuck with Peter and miraculously Peter found that he didn’t mind, even growing to appreciate their company. They weren’t MJ and Ned and they never would be able to fill the empty space that his first friends had left behind, but they were Gwen and Miles and somehow they managed to worm their way into his circle anyway. 

It took Peter little less than a day to figure out his new classmates – friends? – dynamic.

The first thing he noticed, was that Miles wasn’t very talkative. He used to be - if the disappointment on Gwen’s dad’s face when the boy failed to say more than two words to him after school was any indication - but he wasn’t now. Miles communicated mainly through glares and eye rolls, though he did like to listen to Gwen chat, which she was very good at.

Most of the time, Peter noticed, Gwen was just holding up a steady pace of chatter, not caring whether her best friend was listening or not, while Miles drew. He was good at that. He didn’t appear to need his voice, if he had a pencil. He could get his point and mood across adequately enough. 

Peter didn’t mind that Miles was a quiet kid. It reminded him of MJ, a little. She, too, only needed her deadpan facial expressions to communicate how she was feeling and she’d also allowed him and Ned to chatter on and on, while she read or doodled in her notebook.

Gwen and her endless stream of words reminded him more of Ned, although the two really weren’t all that similar. They didn’t look alike, had very different humor and they didn’t talk about the same things. Still, Gwen’s happy-go-lucky attitude was comforting, to a certain degree.

Peter was still reconciling with the fact that his lonely-lunch plans had been ruined by the two teens sitting across from him, when two more people invited themselves over to the table he’d chosen.

“Peter! You found friends! All on your own!” Harley beamed down at his little brother, putting down his lunch tray with a satisfied smile, as he sat beside Peter. Much to Peter’s embarrassment, he sounded like a proud mother complimenting a shy toddler, as he clapped Peter on the shoulder. “Well done, Petey!”

Miles and Gwen shared an amused glance. “Friends found Peter.” Gwen corrected Harley, looking from a beaming Harley to an embarrassed Peter, seemingly thoroughly entertained by their interaction. “Who’s this, Petey?”

Peter had never wished so savagely for the ground to swallow him up, but he just sighed in bemused resignation. “They found me.” He agreed with Gwen. “They are holding me hostage, really. But uhm, Harley, this is Gwen and Miles. Gwen and Miles, meet Harley. My brother.”

Harley waved. “Hi.”

Gwen and Miles returned Harley’s greeting.

“You are the worst wingman of the century, Harley.” A girl’s voice complained. “Are you going to bother introducing me to your cute brother at all, or is this your way of telling me that I should just go and fuck myself?”

“Oh, Peter, this dramatic bitch is my bestest friend in the whole wide world, Kate.”

Peter looked over at a pretty girl with long, dark hair and eyes that sparkled with mischief and challenge. He immediately understood why she and Harley would get along. “Hi, nice to meet you.” Peter waved. “I’m Peter Par- uhm, Stark. Peter Stark.”

Kate smiled back at Peter. “Hello. I’m Kate Bishop.”

Chapter Text

TIME SKIP FIVE YEARS LATER 

DIVERGENT UNIVERSE 

“Yeah, yeah, I know Mom.” Peter rolled his eyes at Harley, as he clamped the phone between his ear and shoulder, so he had the one hand that wasn't carrying moving boxes free to fiddle with the keys to his new dorm.  

 Harley looked at his brother amusedly from over the stack of boxes he was carrying, very capable of imagining the speech Nat was giving Peter, having received a similar phone call from Tony earlier.  

“We just wanted to do it on our own, it's not a rejection .” Peter continued as he finally got the door unlocked and he shouldered it open. “No. No, Mom, Nat, c'mon.” He put the box on his bed and finally got his hands on his phone again. “I'm 21. Just because Harls and I wanted to do this alone doesn't mean I don't love you... okay now you're just being overbearing... no no don't call Kate, you know she always agrees with you on everything, she's not impartial.” 

Harley smirked as he listened to Peter's increasingly exasperated side of the conversation. He started unpacking his side of their new room, Peter's phone call with Natasha serving as amusing background noise as he tried to figure out the best method of getting all of his clothes into the tiny shared closet that came with the room.  

“We just changed dorms, we didn't move across the country.” Peter was saying, putting the phone on speaker as he put it down on his bunk, so he actually had his hands free for the move. “Yes, we're in Boston, but it's not like that's special or new. The whole team was there when we first went to college. And the year after that. And the year after that... start of term isn't that big of a deal anymore, we'll face-time every day and come back to New York for Christmas and Spring Break.” 

Harley opened a new box after finishing the first one. He found his toiletries and a stack of towels he'd packed and moved to the bathroom to put them away while Natasha responded, sounding agitated and tinny over the phone speaker.  

By the time Harley finished stalling out deodorant and shampoo and returned to the sleeping area, Peter had managed to hang up on Natasha.  

“She real upset?” Harley asked, as he beckoned Peter over to come help carry over the last batch of moving boxes from the car to their dorm.  

“Nah. Just a little angry we didn't say a proper goodbye, I think.” Peter said, looking sheepish. “Kate said she would be, but... I don't know, just because they missed our childhoods doesn't make it okay for them to baby us now, you know?” 

Harley nodded. “They wouldn't have listened if we hadn't snuck off.” He said, seriously. “I mean, I love them all, but no one gets brought to uni by mummy and daddy and all their uncles all their lives. It's unhealthy.” 

Peter snorted a bit at that, opening his mouth to agree, but before he could a sharp sense of dread settled over me. He faltered mid-step. “Harley...” Before he could finish the sentence, he doubled over, one hand pressing against the wall to stop from crashing to the ground as a wave of agony he only ever relived in nightmares flooded his every nerve ending.  

Harley looked over at him, alarmed, reaching out to steady him. “Woah, Pete, what's going on?” 

But Peter couldn't answer, he couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. Because he'd only felt a sensation like this once before... when he'd literally dissolved like sugar in a pool. 

“Peter!” Harley caught him mid-fall, watching in horror as the arm Peter had been leaning against the wall with crumbled. The memory of his mom vanishing, leaving nothing but ash, was forcefully brought back to the surface. It hit him like a punch in the throat. “No, no, no, no, no, not again...”  

Peter's wide, pained and panicked gaze met Harley's utterly traumatized one. For a second they just stared at each other, sharing a moment of pure shock and devastation. Then, Peter was gone and all that remained was a pile of dust.  

Harley remained frozen, knelt there in the middle of the hallway, arms still stretched out, but encircling nothing but air.  

CANON UNIVERSE  

 Peter stared up at the red Titan sky, remaining on the floor in numb disbelief even after the burning feeling of his very cells fusing back together had waned.  

A face he hadn't seen in half a decade hovered above him and a scarred hand was extended. “Hey Spider-Man.” Doctor Strange said, looking as serious and severe as ever. “Get up. It's been five years. They need us.” 

Peter felt numb and cotton-brained as he sat up and watched the wizard open a sparkly portal to god knows where. This was a dream, it had to be a dream... he followed Doctor Strange and the even stranger aliens he and Mr. Stark had fought Thanos with through a portal. He reappeared in a warzone. A lot of portals were opened and a lot of people were coming through and Peter... Peter was sure he must be dreaming. He must be.   

And then he was fighting and suddenly it didn't quite feel like an inconsequential dream anymore and more like a life and death situation. He let his instincts take over as things exploded and even creepier aliens than the ones he'd met on Titan roared and then suddenly his eyes fell on his dad, only it wasn't his dad, it was Mr. Stark, but he looked at him like his dad did and Peter was rambling to him about getting dusty and then he was suddenly hugging Mr. Stark, which would've probably melted his brain if he hadn't been calling a variant of his mentor dad and cuddled with him watching Star Wars for the past five years... 

But nothing nice ever lasted, even in maybe-dreams, because then suddenly Peter was back in the thick of battle and he even ran around with Thanos’ glove for a while until a lady with short hair that Peter was pretty sure he'd seen Nat call once or twice took the gauntlet from him and went off, carrying the way too much responsibility away from Peter, thank god. 

But then the maybe-dream morphed into a sure-as-hell nightmare, when Mr. Stark snapped and died . Mr. Stark's pale face seemed to get overlaid with his dad's in Peter's mind and he choked out a broken “Tony..” but he was pulled away and he was sobbing and Peter would've really liked to just wake up already... 

It took him a hell of a long time to accept that maybe this really wasn't a dream. Being reunited with May, who smelled so familiar and whose eyes sparkled in a way that Peter hadn't even remembered... seeing Ned and stumbling over their handshake that he hadn't used in so long... searching up his girlfriend online and realizing with dread that even though Peter had been Snapped in this universe, she hadn't and she was way older than him now and in her experience they hadn't even gone to school together...  

Natasha was dead and hadn't even ever met him in this reality. Mr. Stark was dead and had definitely not adopted Peter or Harley, instead getting a child of his own... Peter met Harley at Mr. Stark's funeral, but this Harley was a lot different from the brother he'd gotten to know and after one stilted conversation Peter determined that meeting each other on their never-quite father figure's funeral was definitely not the place to start a lifelong friendship.  

Steve went back in time or something, Clint had his family back and had no idea that he’d ever been Peter's pseudo-uncle in another lifetime. Miles Morales didn't even seem to be a person that existed in this universe and neither was Gwen Stacy.  

Really, Peter had gotten back May and Ned and MJ, but he'd lost so many more people. And nobody seemed to understand, because according to everyone else's experience Blip-victims just ceased existing for five years, before the Avengers brought them back.  

Peter tried hard to be grateful for the sacrifices this Mr. Stark and Natasha made to give him back his life and aunt and friends, but really, he found himself wishing they hadn't. He hadn't been Peter Parker in so long, that he found it difficult to return to that life now... 

And then even that was taken from him. His identity was leaked and without Mr. Stark or his dad to fall back upon Peter turned to Doctor Strange. That decision cost him his aunt, his name, his friends and his place in the world.  

It was almost a cruel mockery of the reality he'd made his own. The reality where Peter Parker had never existed, instead of this reality where he'd been erased and forgotten. At least there, he'd found his family. Here, the weeks turned into months and his saviors were dead. 

But Peter should've known that Tony Stark wouldn't give up on him, in any universe.  

He'd gone to bed alone, in his shitty apartment, shivering under covers he could scarcely afford with the little money he made doing odd-jobs that didn't require identification. He woke huddled into the most comfortable pile of blankets, that smelled like home in a way nothing had smelled like home in a long time. Peter blinked open his eyes as a familiar voice spoke to him.  

 DIVERGENT UNIVERSE 

“Sorry to kidnap you from your reality like that, Kiddo. But in all fairness, they stole you from us first.”  

Their eyes met. Peter’s breath hitched as he sat up and then he broke down sobbing. Warm arms wrapped themselves around his heaving shoulders. “Hey, hey, easy there kid. Easy now, you’re alright.”  

“D-dad.” Peter spluttered pathetically, burying his nose in his father’s neck. “Dad it, it was awful . K-keep me please ,” Peter could barely breathe as Tony crushed him closer, one hand in his hair, other arm holding him up. “don’t make me go back, I don’t ever want to go back.”   

“You don’t have to go back, Pete. We’re going to keep you and we’re going to keep your forever.” Promised Tony, earnest but taken-aback, as he carded a trembling hand through his kid’s hair.  

He was so grateful to hold his son in his arms again, but he hadn’t expected his sense of euphoria and relief to be reciprocated this strongly. He’d believed his actions would be received as utterly selfish. He’d expected Peter to be mad, for ripping him away from his family and friends. He’d dreaded the fight, but this… this was even worse.  

Tony didn’t want his kid to be this distraught. He didn’t even want to begin to imagine what Peter had been through, to arrive in such a state. “What happened to you, kid?” 

“You brought us back.” Whimpered Peter nestling deeper in his father’s embrace. “And then you died . You snapped the Infinity Stones and you died in front of me. You were dead and Mom was dead and Pepper and Clint barely remembered me and Harley and Kate didn’t know me at all.” 

“Oh kid…” 

Peter took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself, before he pulled away. “I didn’t know how to get back, you know? But May was there so I wasn’t all alone. But then one of Mr. Stark’s enemies wanted revenge and he framed me for murder and told everyone I was Spider-Man and it messed everything up.” He let out a bitter laugh that bordered on hysterical. “I tried to fix it with Doctor Strange’s help, but instead I messed it all up and then May died and reality was falling apart because of my fuck-up.” 

“Kid,” Tony tried to break in, overwhelmed and more than a little horrified.  

“Strange made everyone forget about me, Dad.” Sniffed Peter. “ Everyone . Ned, MJ, Happy. Everyone. It was like I didn’t even exist anymore. I don’t exist there anymore. Please don’t make me go back.” 

“Never.” Vowed Tony, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I moved heaven and earth to get you here, I’m not letting you go for anything. You’re my kid. Not theirs. They can’t have you.”  

“And from what you’re telling us, it sounds like they don’t deserve you.” A second voice broke in.  

Peter’s head snapped up. Brown met green and he let out another anguished sound. “Mom!” 

Natasha caught the nineteen-year-old with ease, cradling him close to her chest. “I missed you, мой ангел.” 

“I missed you too.” Peter blubbered, new sobs bubbling to the surface. “You guys are never allowed to die again, I can’t handle it. I can’t.” 

“We’re not planning to for a long time.” Promised Natasha, as she pressed a kiss to his temple. “I love you so much  маленький паук. So much.”  

“I love you both.” 

“So much.” Agreed Tony, as he wrapped his arms around the two of them.  

“Any more space in the cuddle pile?”  

For the second time Peter’s head snapped up. This time, to take in Harley and Kate's soft smiles. “Harls?” He asked uncertainly, having not quite forgotten his last interaction with the Keener from his own universe and the distinct lack of interaction with Kate. “My Harley and Kate?” 

“All yours.” Whispered Kate so softly probably only Peter’s enhanced hearing could catch it. “Forever yours, if you’ll have me.” 

Peter’s parents released him, as Peter scrambled to his feet, stumbling towards his girlfriend and kissing her square on the mouth with an unparalleled urgency. “You have no idea how much I missed you, Kate Bishop.”  

“I think I have an idea. And if you love me even a fraction of how much I love you, you’ll promise me one thing.” Kate breathed against Peter’s lips. “Don’t you ever pull such a disappearing stunt again, Parker. You scared me half to death.”  

Peter let out a wet laugh. “I wasn’t planning on it.” 

“Move over, I wanna hug my brother.” Harley stepped forward and wrapped his long arms around both Kate and Peter, squeezing them so tightly the pair could scarcely breathe. When he stepped back, his eyes were shiny as they took in Peter's form. “Wow, look at you. You haven’t aged a day. It’s almost like you became younger.” 

“It’s been three years for me, but after the Snap I was sixteen again. How much time passed here?”   

“It’s been two years for us, kiddo.” Tony said softly. “I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out a way to get you back.” 

“No apologies allowed.” Peter said, stepping towards his dad and hugging him again, just because he could. “God, I missed you.” 

“It's okay. You're home now.”