Archive of Our Own ^beta

Death has followed Peter his entire life. Stalked him at every turn, taking what matters to him most… who matters to him most. Death refuses to leave him alone, getting close and closer each day, threatening to take anyone who dares to care for him. Death has been chasing him his entire life, making itself known through every milestone he passed. 

Peter was done running. He was done waiting for death to take another life he cared for. He wasn’t going to be the cause of anymore deaths. He was going to make the ultimate sacrifice. Peter is going to save lives rather than endanger them. He’s going to be the hero he never thought he would live up to, someone Ben could be proud of. 

He had the Gauntlet in hand and he’s running as fast as his legs will take him, stumbling over debris from the battlefield. He knows he’s supposed to give the Gauntlet to someone else, and pass it along, but that would be him just thrusting the problem onto someone else. He’s tired of burdening others, for instance, May. She’s not even blood-related to him and yet she works double shifts just to take care of him, even though she has no obligation to do so. He doesn’t want anyone else to take on the responsibility of the metal hand in his arms, a hand that holds the balance and survival of the universe and everyone within. 

Everyone here, everyone fighting is so important. There are literal God’s fighting, superheroes, aliens, and everything in between. These people have families they need to get back to, people are worried about them. Everyone here matters. Peter has May, but he has always secretly thought she would be better off without him. She could start anew, have time for herself, and maybe even find love again. People know Spider-Man, but not Peter Parker. People will mourn the vigilante, but there are plenty of others to take his place. 

Peter Parker is just a kid from Queens. Everyone else on the battlefield has, for the most part, made something of their lives. Peter has not yet, not really. He feels he’s the least important one amidst the rest, so it makes the most sense for him to make the sacrifice. 

Peter has escaped death so many times. He could have been on that plane with his mother and father but he wasn’t. The bullet could have hit him instead of Ben, but it didn’t. He could have given up under the warehouse, but he didn’t. Maybe he had survived all those times just to make it to this point. To make it to the realization that it has to be him. 

He stops running and stares at the gauntlet, stares at his fate. He wished he could say goodbye to May, and thank her for everything she did for him. He’s sad he didn’t get to say goodbye to Ned and do their ridiculous handshake one more time. He’s mad at himself for never getting up the courage to tell MJ he liked her, now it’s too late. He would have wished he could have thanked Tony for taking him under his wing and then bringing him back.

One of Thanos’s army goons came up behind Peter, but his senses warned him and he turned and kicked the creature back. He then webbed them up. Time had run out. It was now or never. 

As Peter prepared to put his hand inside the gauntlet, he saw Tony across the battlefield. Their eyes locked and a veil of dread covered his expression. He started flying toward him, but Peter knew he would be too late. He looked at the heroes fighting, each one as important as the last. “I’m glad it’s me.” He said and a tear fell over his waterline getting soaked up by the red fabric pressed against his face, as he put on the gauntlet. He shouted in pain just as Tony screamed out, “NO!” from yards away. 

Burning took over his entire right arm, the metal felt like it was searing and fusing into his skin. The pain started to move past his arm and into his shoulder, venturing further across his skin. He grits his teeth and forces his eyes open as they had been clenched shut in pain, he is shaking as the pain takes over his entire world. Tony was almost there, his faceplate was lifted and Peter could hear the fast distraught chorus of “No no no no no no,” coming from his mentor.

He looked at him and, in a strained and tiny voice uttered, “I’m sorry,” as he snapped.