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When Peter Parker first blinked his eyes open, his first thought was that Hell didn’t look anything like how he imagined it.
Granted, Peter had never been a hundred percent sure on he could expect once he got to Hell. Although, he’d never really given it a lot of thought either. He’d just always known that it was his ultimate destination.
(In the end, it doesn’t matter how many people you may save. If you’re responsible for someone’s death, if someone’s blood is on your hands, then Hell is where you go, and Ben’s blood dripped off of Peters.)
So, there was no flames licking at his feet. There were no demons dancing around with pitchforks. Satan, Lord of all things evil, was nowhere to be found. Peter would admit, though, that his only visual points of reference were the movie Legend (May had went through a Tom Cruise phase a few years back) and the Mister Toad ride at Disneyland that Mr. Stark insisted they ride.
Mr. Stark.
The memory of Titan flooded through Peter and sent him sitting straight up. He frantically touched his face, arms, legs, his chest. He urgently patted his body in disbelief. He was whole again. He wasn’t a pile of dust.
He touched his face again and felt the dried twin trails of tear marks from when he all but collapsed on Mr. Stark. He felt embarrassing heat flush through him at the memory. Everyone else had went with composure and he’d broken down like a little kid.
Peter shakily stood up and looked around him. Everything, even the air around him, was a weird shade of orange. He felt like he was stuck in a dream and couldn’t wake himself up.
He wasn’t alone. There was a handful of people around him that milled around. They all looked as lost as he did.
Where was Mr. Stark?
Peter only made it about three steps forward, to where he didn’t know, but he figured that was a future Peter problem, when a woman rushed up to him with wide, wet eyes. She grabbed hold of his arm and Peter fought to not pull it back.
“Spider-Man!” She gasped. “I can’t find my baby! Will you help me find her?”
Peter blinked, completely thrown off by the woman. He fleetingly wished that he had reactivated his mask. He really didn’t want people to know that he was some useless kid that couldn’t even get a gauntlet off an alien’s arm.
On the other hand, if he was dead and in Hell then a secret identity was kind of a moot point.
Besides, he didn’t even know if his new suit would work here.
Peter blinked again and realized that the woman was still looking at him, waiting for him to say something. He cleared his throat and fought the impulse to lower his voice.
“Of course, ma’am.”
They walked wordlessly for what seems like a long time, passing countless people, aliens, and even animals and plants. Peter thought that it was kind of harsh to send a plant to Hell, but hey, he wasn’t the one making those kinds of decisions.
Crying and wailing filled the air around them. Peter’s heart broke a little more with each one. Eventually he stopped trying to make himself not cringe at them.
They looked and looked for the woman’s daughter without success long enough that Peter knew they’d have to call it soon. He had no idea how far this pplace stretched out too and there was the very real possibility that the girl wasn’t even there. He had no idea why a kid would be there in Hell anyways.
Peter opened up his mouth to suggest they head back when a shrill cry erupts around them. He watched, shocked, as a body joined the cry, forming from dust right before their eyes. The dust took the shape of a toddler whose eyes widen at the sight of them. She stuck her chubby arms into the air.
“Momma!”
Peter watched as the woman burst out in tears and instantly gathered her daughter into her arms. He took a step back as she started to rock back and forth with her in a way that reminded Peter of a time when May used to comfort him. The thought made his tears reappear and he started to quietly leave them to it now that his job was done.
He didn’t get very far though, before the woman calmed down long enough to catch up with him, pulling him into a big hug.
“Thank you, Spider-Man.” She said into his shoulder like he did something other than keep her company. Peter watched her study him after she released him, with his baby face and tears that wouldn’t stop falling, and he could practically see her doing the math in her head.
“I was going to look for my family. Would you like to join us?” She offered and a part of Peter almost accepted.
But then he looked at her and the cutest little girl he’d ever seen and remembered how he’s a trouble magnet, as May put it once, and politely declines. Whatever Parker Luck decided to rain down on him, he didn’t want to drag any innocents into it.
The woman smiled sadly at him, like she was disappointed in his decision but wasn’t going to fight it, and gives him a parting kiss on the cheek. The baby girl waved her fat little hand at him as they walked away and Peter returned it until they were out of sight.
Dust kept swirling around him, creating new lost people, and it dawned on Peter that he might not be in Hell after all.
***
Peter walked for a long time. Well, he assumed it was a long time. It felt like a long time, but there’s no sun and so there’s no possible way to tell time. It was just orange everywhere, all day long. So, he walked and walked until he stumbled upon a group of familiar faces.
For a brief hysterical moment, Peter considered just turning around and going the other way. Mostly because the last time he saw these people were in an airport in Germany and the dusty planet that he died on.
He took too long to make a decision and had to watch helplessly as the Winter Solider turned and spotted him. Peter forced himself to stay still and not take a step back as the man’s eyes flickered down to the spider emblem on his chest then back to Peter’s face.
“Spider-Man?”
That got the other’s attention and soon Peter was staring down the combined scrutiny of Falcon, Scarlet Witch, Black Panther, Star-Lord and his crew, and Dr. Strange. He ignored the voice in the back of head, who sounded a lot like Ned, that spouted off various powers and statics of the group in front of him.
He kind of knew Strange, Star-Lord, and the aliens with him. Strange hadn’t impressed him much on Titan, but some of that may have been Peter’s phobia of magicians which he really didn’t want to dwell on, but Mr. Stark had seemed to trust him.
Star-Lord liked Footloose unironically , so he was on notice for the moment, as far as Peter was concerned.
He had no idea what to expect from the others. Especially the ones who had personally had their asses handed to them by him. Looking at you, Falcon and Winter Solider.
“Uh, hey!” Peter said with a little wave and none of them look impressed with him.
“Spider-Kid!” Star Lord greeted nicely enough and it gave Peter enough of the courage needed to walk up to the group.
The Winter Solider looked him up and down. “You okay, kid?” He asked gruffly.
“I think so.” Peter nodded. “I didn’t think you guys would be in Hell too, though.”
Peter kicked himself as soon as the half joke left his mouth. It did not land well. At all.
Falcon’s eyebrows about flew off his face. Black Panther just stared tiredly at him. Star-Lord looked at him like he’d grown two heads. His alien crew giggled but Peter wasn’t really sure if it was at him or each other. Dr. Strange didn’t seemed amused either. In fact, he went as far as sighing deeply and stepping away to do some magic. The Winter Solider just looked at Peter sadly.
Scarlet Witch’s expression seemed to scream “mood”, so she got it. Peter took some comfort in that at least.
“Jesus, kid.” Falcon said, shaking his head. “What on Earth have you done that you thought you’d go to Hell for?”
Oh nothing, Peter thought. Just got my uncle killed.
“Then where are we?” He asked instead.
“Strange thinks we’re in one of those stones.” The Winter Solider said, coming to stand beside Peter.
“The soul stone.” Dr. Strange clarified from where he stood, off to the side. He didn’t look their way and sounded almost bored as he did his magic stuff. “Is Stark with you?”
A bolt of pain shot through Peter’s chest.
“No.” He answered, rubbing at his chest to try and ease the pain. It didn’t work.
“Good.” Strange said with no further explanation and went back to ignoring everyone again.
No one seemed bothered by that but Peter can’t help but staring at the man for a long moment, trying to gauge him and the situation. He really wished that Mr. Stark was there. He’d know what to do.
When he finally shook himself from his thoughts and turned back to the group, he noticed Falcon giving him a weird look.
“What? Do I have something on my face?” Peter questioned, while pawing at his cheeks just in case there were still dried tears stuck on them.
Falcon just huffed and shook his head. “You’re a kid. That seems like a Stark move, recruiting a kid.”
The anger that blazed through Peter quick and hot, took his breath away. But anger felt better than the constant anxiety that had dogged him the moment he opened his eyes in this god forsaken wasteland, away from the people he cared about, away from May and Mr. Stark and Ned and MJ, so he grabbed a hold of it with both hands.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter said so sharply that the others that had wondered a bit away, turned back. Even Dr. Strange stopped what he was doing.
Falcon wasn’t intimidated though. The resolve on his face grew. “It means that you’re a child and Stark had no right dragging you to Germany to fight grown ass adults.”
To Peter’s horror, tears sprung to his eyes. Crying had always been his body’s go to response to pretty much every emotion.
If he was sad? He cried. Mad? Tears. Tired? There went the water works. Happy? He blubbered.
“Shut up.” Peter snapped at the man and swiped at his eyes angrily. “You wouldn’t understand. You don’t know Mr. Stark. You don’t know anything.”
Falcon didn’t act surprised at his outburst but everyone else was openly gaping at him now. Suddenly disgusted and overwhelmed, Peter turned on his heels and left. A mini commotion broke out behind him as he walked away and the sound of it just made him walk faster. He only made it a few feet away before the Winter Solider caught up with him.
“Kid, wait.” He reached out for Peter’s arm but Peter stepped out of reach an instant before he can make contact.
“What?” Peter snapped. “Just leave me alone.”
“I’m sorry about Sam.” The Winter Solider apologized. He actually looked and sounded sincere and Peter’s anger waned in the face of it.
“He shouldn’t have said that stuff about Stark.” He continued. “Everyone’s been stressed. That’s no excuse, I know.” He shook his head a little, his dark hair flying around his face. “I don’t think he expected you to be so young. It took him by surprise, I think.”
Peter wanted to still be mad so badly, but keeping his temper up took more energy than what he currently had. His anger was slowly leaking out from him, but he still gave it the ole’ college try though.
“So, what if I’m young?” He challenged. “Mr. Stark didn’t make me go anywhere. I choose to go to Germany. I choose to go to space.” His words got caught in this throat and threatened to choke him. “He tried to get me to stay home. He sent me home and I didn’t listen. I wanted to protect him but I’m here instead.”
Peter’s words ended with a sob. He covered his face with his hands after he witnessed the Winter Solder's face fall. He tried his best to get himself under control but the tears fall from his, fast and hot.
He missed May. He missed Tony. He ached with how much he missed them. That and the fear of never seeing them again. Of being stuck here forever.
Peter felt the air around them shift as The Winter Solider hesitantly stepped towards him. Peter choked on another sob as the other man gently wrapped his arms around him. After a moment, he adjusted his hold so that his flesh hand cradled Peter’s head that was gentle that you’d never guess what his true occupation had been.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Peter cried into his shoulder. He felt the other man sigh heavily underneath him.
“You remind me of someone I used to know.” He said then gently swayed them from side to side. It was exactly the way May and Tony comforted him and Peter heaved again.
“It’ll be okay, kid.” The Winter Solider whispered but Peter couldn’t believe him.
***
After Peter stopped crying into his shoulder, the Winter Solider decided that it was his mission to his own personal body guard and mother hen. He instructed Peter to call him Bucky (“I think we’re on a first name basis now, kid.”) and told him that he’ll stick with him wherever he wanted to go.
“Stark would kill me if anything happened to you.” He finally explained when pressed on it.
Falcon “Call me Sam” apologized and Peter decided to stay with the group. He was the only official Avenger there and he thought that hanging around would be something Mr. Stark would him to do.
At first, Peter spent most of his time sleeping. He’s pretty sure that he didn’t need to, per say, for the same reason why none of them have died from starvation or dehydration. The rules were different here. But it was nice to disconnect from everything for a little while.
It reminded him of the bone deep exhaustion that followed him for the months after Ben died, which probably isn’t good, but it’s whatever. There wasn’t much else to do.
When Peter wasn’t sleeping, he was listening to Bucky’s old war stories and some pretty funny antidotes of pre-serum Captain America. Or getting firsthand demonstrations of Scarlet Witch’s, “Call me Wanda, little one.”, powers. Which, he’d admit, was also pretty cool.
All in all, it could have been worse.
***
One day, somehow, Peter was able to get out from underneath Bucky’s thumb long enough to go exploring. He didn’t intend to wonder too far from the group but there wasn’t much to see so he walked until he found something to do.
There weren’t any more people reforming and Peter was glad for it. It had made his skin crawl to watch that first hand. Dr. Strange told them that at this point anyone effected by what Thanos did was already there.
Just like the woman Peter met after he first woke up, people were trying to find their families and they all thought that Spider-Man was the hero who could do that.
Peter didn’t know how much he could actually help and he kind of wished that he’d had enough foresight to put his mask back on, but he didn’t mind helping. It took his mind off the ever-crushing anxiety that had burrowed into his chest. Besides, looking out for the little guy was what Spider-Man did.
So, he left his face bare and helped every person that came asking for help. He lost count of how many he’d helped when he spotted a dark-haired man in a suit that walked around aimlessly. It wasn’t until Peter got closer that he noticed the walking cane that he tapped around on the ground. He picked up the pace.
“Can I help you, sir?” He sounded like a retail worked and Peter cringed at his own awkwardness.
The man didn’t seem put off by it though, but Peter would admit that it was hard to read him behind the round dark glasses that hid his eyes. He tilted his head just so. Enough that Peter got the distinct feeling that he was being studied.
“Yeah, actually.” The man said with a small smirk, like he was laughing at a joke Peter wasn’t in on. “I’m looking for my friend. He’s about yea tall-” He lifted a hand level to his head “-Got short blond hair. Goes by Foggy.”
“Sure, no problem.” Peter said and stuck his arm out on instinct, because that was what he did when the little old ladies around Queens asked him to help them around. Then he kicked himself because what if that was against assisting blind people etiquette? Was there a blind person etiquette? That information would have been useful to know before he went and got killed.
Thankfully, the man didn’t seem offended and took Peter’s offered arm.
“I’m Peter.” Peter introduced himself with a smile and the man returned it with one of his own.
“Matthew, but you can call me Matt.”
They started off walking in the direction that Matt came from. Matt halfheartedly tapped his cane against the glowing orange ground. Every few minutes, his head would twitch to the side like a dog that heard something of interest.
After a while of searching, Matt turned towards Peter and frown. He moved his arm from Peter’s forearm to his bicep. “What are you wearing?”
Peter froze. He looked down at his nano tech covered body and considered his options. He could lie about the suit. Matt wouldn’t be able to call him out on it. But the more Peter thought about it, what was the point? He’d been showing his bare face to everyone in the place since he woke up.
If anything, revealing his identity to a blind man was safer than letting all those people see his face. Even if they did get out, what would Matt do? Describe what his voice sounded like to the Daily Bugle?
So far nearly half the universe had seen his face, what was one more?
“My suit.” Peter answered with a forced nonchalant shrug, nearly displacing Matt’s hand. “I’m Spider-Man.”
Matt jerked to a stop. He didn’t say anything but, slowly, he reached up and placed a hand over the spider ensign that sat on Peter’s chest. He held his breath as Matt traced it. When he was finished, Matt dropped his hand and laughed. Then kept laughing.
Peter blinked in surprise as Matt full on belly laughed for a full minute. He had yet to recover floor when Matt finally pulled himself together. He took a step away and held out a hand to Peter.
“Nice to meet you, Spider-Man.” Matt said with a smile that had too many teeth, like a shark. “I’m Daredevil.”
Now, in general, Peter considered himself to be smart. Sure, he’d admit that he had a record of making some dumb ass decisions in his lifetime, who didn’t? But he thought that his 4.0 GPA, the web fluid that sat in the web shooters that he created with Tony Freaking Stark, and the ‘My Kid is a Midtown High Honor Student’ bumper sticker that May slapped on the back of her car proved that he had some brains.
That being said, Peter was confident that the man he was currently escorting was not Daredevil.
Mostly because this guy was blind and Daredevil was not. Peter knew Daredevil. Well, he didn’t know him well, but he fought with him once or twice, and surely, he’d know if he was teaming up with a blind person.
“No, you’re not.” Peter told him and Matt just threw his head back and laughed again.
“I sure am.” Matt said, after he caught his breath. Then he causally tossed his walking cane to side and struck out on his own.
Peter gaped as he watched Matt step around people and trees with ease. Peter could admit that that was pretty suspect. He still grabbed the abandoned walking stick on the off chance that he was just a lying blind guy trying to pull one over on ole’ gullible Spider-Man, and jogged to catch up with him.
“You’re blind.” Peter pointed out when he caught up with him, almost out of breath. This guy was fast.
“Yes.”
“Daredevil isn’t blind.”
“Yes, he is. Because I’m blind and we’re the same person.”
“Dude,” Peter huffed. “I know Daredevil.”
Matt raised an eyebrow.
“Well, maybe not know know him.” Peter amended in the face of the judging brows. “But I’ve fought with him.”
Somehow, Matt looked like he was judging him harder, which in Peter’s opinion, was uncalled for considering this guy was just playing blind a minute ago. In fact, he was walking better then Peter had ever walked in his life. He expertly dodged people, animals, and the odd tree. He also whipped his head from side to side every few moments. It reminded Peter of his neighbors’ dog.
Peter was still deciding if he was going to double down on the whole Daredevil thing for the sake of his pride or just admit defeat when Matt stopped suddenly. He shot an arm out, stopping Peter too. He tilted his head again to the left then right, then his whole face broke out in a wide smile.
“Foggy!” He called out and, in the distance, Peter saw a blond-haired man that perfectly fit Matt’s description.
“Where have you been, Matthew?” The man demanded as soon as he reached Matt and Peter. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
“Sorry.” Matt grinned, apparently unbothered by the scolding. “I’ll try to rematerialize closer to you next time.”
“There better not be a next time. I don’t know what happened but I blame you.” Matt’s friend wagged a finger in his face seriously before matching Matt’s grin. He extended a hand to Peter after he noticed him hovering by and Peter shook it.
“Foggy Nelson.” He introduced himself. “Thanks for helping this guy out. I assume he made it difficult for you?”
“He’s Spider-Man, Fogs.” Matt butted in before Peter could even answer.
Peter watched Foggy’s gazed flicker down to the suit then back to Peter’s face. “Huh.” He said after a beat. “I guess he is.”
“Tell him who I am.” Matt demanded.
“Really? Now you’re the sharing type?” Foggy huffed incredulously. “Last week you nearly beat a man into a coma because he guessed that you had dark hair.”
Matt chuckled once. “I forgot I did that.”
“And now,” Foggy continued. “you want me to tell your biggest secret to a kid you just met?” Matt just shrugged and Foggy blew out a long breath. Then blew out another that sounded more defeated then the last.
“Spider-Man, meet Matthew Murdock; attorney at law, professional pain in my ass, and Daredevil.”
Peter went to accuse him of being in on the con but then hesitated. Murdock and Nelson. Why did those names sound familiar? A light bulb went off in his head and he remembered seeing them in the news a few years back. They were the lawyers that had put Fisk away. It was around the same time that Daredevil showed up on the scene.
Daredevil who also faced off against Fisk. Who shared a very similar squared jaw with the man standing beside him. The same one that had been claiming to be the vigilante for the past hour.
“Huh.” Peter said and Matt gave him another shark like grin.
“Told you.”
***
Once Peter stopped accusing Matt of being a lair, they ended up getting along really well. When Matt took off after a guy who he thought he once he put in jail, based only on the man’s heartbeat alone, Foggy told Peter he reminded him a lot of Matt.
“Don’t take that as a compliment, by the way.” He warned. “In fact, view that as a character defect and something you should improve on. The world cannot handle two self-sacrificing, head strong, idiot vigilantes.”
“Um, okay.”
Peter stuck around a bit longer to help them look for their friend and then invited them to join Peter’s group when they couldn’t find her. Matt was instantly against, citing a distain for the Avengers. He specifically called out Mr. Stark during his anti-Avenger rant and Peter wasn’t fast enough to smother his flinch. A swift elbow in the ribs by Foggy cut Matt off long enough for Peter to recover and point out that, technically, no one in the group was an Avenger anymore. Well, Peter was but Matt didn’t have to know that.
“The kid has a point.” Foggy backed him with a smile and Matt scowled.
“It’s a loophole at best.” He grumbled but followed regardless.
***
Bucky practically went into a mother hen melt down when Peter returned to the group. “Where have you been?” He demanded, fussing over Peter.
“Stop it.” Peter batted Bucky’s hands away with a frown. He flushed when he heard Matt snicker. “I’m fine. I just went for a walk.”
Seemingly satisfied that Peter wasn’t mortally injured or about to kill over, Bucky stepped back. “Tell me next time.” He said sternly. Then his attention focused behind Peter, noticing Foggy and Matt for the first time.
The rest of the group gathered around and Peter cleared his throat. “Uh, guys this is Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock.” He waved his hand back and forth. “Foggy, Matt, this is the non-Avenger groups.”
A few eyebrows were raised and Matt flashed another sharp smile, raising more. Peter started to wonder if Matt even knew who to smile like a regular person.
“You can call me Daredevil.”
Peter could instantly tell that the following reaction was not what Matt was expecting and/or wanting. He looked disappointed.
The only ones that seemed effected are Foggy, who buried his head in his hands and let out a long-pained sounding groan, and Sam. Granted, Star Lord and his crew probably had no idea who a Daredevil was. The rest of the Earth based superheroes though seemed to know who he was and just didn’t seem to care.
Sam shook his head at Matt. “Really, man? You’re just going to throw that out there, just like that?”
“Sure.” Matt shrugged, still pouting a bit. “We’re in Hell, so what’s it matter?”
Sam sputtered. He looked between Matt and Peter in disbelief. “What is with you people?”
“Matt’s Catholic.” Foggy answered for him.
“I’m just a realist.” Peter said and, in all honestly, felt vindicated that he wasn’t the only one that had come to the Hell conclusion.
Sam didn’t seem happy with those answers, at all.
“Y’all need some professional help.”
***
Peter was just starting to accept the possibility that he was going to spend entirety in this orange hellscape as the Winter Soldier and Daredevil’s adopted son, when one day Doctor Strange straightened out of his mediation pose.
“Brace yourselves.” He said, as cryptic as ever, and the whole group stood to attention.
Star Lord palmed his blasters like a cowboy and the blue tattooed alien took out his knifes. Black Panther popped out his claws while Sam and Bucky geared up. Wanda’s hands started glowing red and Matt got into a fighting stance, protectively standing in front of Foggy.
Bucky placed a steadying hand on Peter’s shoulder but it did little to ease Peter’s sudden bout of nerves. His spidey sense started up at the base of his skull. It traveled down into his limbs and Peter shuddered with it.
“Something is happening.” The bug lady said just a beat after Dr. Strange and Peter nearly collapsed under the wave of anxiety and Déjà vu that crashed over him. He swayed under the tightening grip of Bucky’s hand.
It happened just like how it did on Titan.
Peter couldn’t help but gape as Star Lord and his crew crumble first. Black Panther was next, followed by Sam and Wanda. By the time Matt and Foggy went, Peter was drenched in cold sweat. His whole body trembled violently.
“It’s going to be alright, Peter.” Dr. Strange reassured him but his words were undercut by the fact that he was disintegrating right in front of him.
Bucky’s grip was nearly bruising when Peter’s spidey sense kicked up a degree. He clutched at the other man’s arm desperately, as if he could somehow prevent what was coming next. Fear ripped through him. He couldn’t do this again. He didn’t think he could face the unknown that came next.
“Bucky.” Tears welled up in Peter’s eyes but Bucky just smiled.
“It’ll be alright, Pete. Don’t worry.”
Then Bucky was gone.
This time around didn’t hurt nearly as much as it did the first time around. It was more of numbing, pins and needles sort of pain. Like his whole body had fallen asleep and was trying to circulate blood around his veins.
Peter tried to watch as his arm fell apart but had to look away after the third finger dissolved.
He closed his eyes.
***
Peter opened his eyes and instantly wished he hadn’t.
The light above him was so bright that Peter squeezed his eyes back closed again in fear of his retinas burning out. Even through closed lids, though, the light was blinding.
There was noise all around him. Everything was so loud and it grated against his brain. Even his heart beat was too loud. Each thump made his head pound.
There were hands on him; touching his arms, his face, resting against his neck. Each touch felt like fire on his skin. He tried to tell them to stop, that they were hurting him, but no sound came out. There was only the rough scrape of air against his vocal cords.
Peter must have made some kind of noise though, because the hands moved and framed his face. Calloused thumbs swept back and forth underneath his eyes.
Somehow, above all the noise that was assaulting Peter, he heard his name. Someone was calling it out, over and over again, like a pleading prayer.
“Peter, it’s time to wake up.” The voice said. “You gotta wake up now. I fixed it, kid. I fixed it and brought you back. I really need you to wake up.”
Peter knew that voice. That voice was warm and safe. It brought him soup when he was sick and let him stay up too late working in the lab on school nights.
Peter forced his eyes open once more. He peeled them back even though the light burned and made his eyes water. It was like that time when he was in the third grade and Flash dared him to look at the sun.
A shadow settled in front of him and blocked the light. Peter gratefully blinked the spots out of his eyes. When they finally cleared, they revealed Mr. Stark staring down at him.
“Mr. Stark!” Peter tried to say, but all that came out was garbled mess of sounds. He sat up but pitched over the second he was upright.
“Woah, kid.” Mr. Stark said, moving until Peter was tucked against his chest. “You’re okay, just take it easy.”
The world spun around Peter and he swayed with it. A wave of nausea overtook him and Peter clenched his eyes shut when he realized that it wasn’t passing anytime soon. Beads of cold sweat popped up along his brow and Peter couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him.
Mr. Stark shushed him gently. “It’s alright, Pete. We’ll get you inside, just a second.” Peter didn’t have a second and Mr. Stark must have realized it too. “I know, bud. Just hang on.”
Then Peter was being lifted in the air and that was it. He pitched forward and puked everywhere. He distantly felt the arms Mr. Stark had around him tighten in surprise but then he quickly adjusted, putting him in an easier position to heave up bile and ash in.
When he finally finished, Peter let himself fall backwards. His whole body felt like it weighed a ton and he just didn’t have it in him to hold it up anymore. He heard Mr. Stark grunt as he collided against him but he wordlessly lifted him back up and started walking.
Peter felt himself drift. His head lolled until he was adjusted again and his forehead found the curve of Mr. Stark’s neck. The sigh that left him was involuntary but that was the most comfortable Peter had felt in a long time and he got as close as he could before drifting off completely.
***
Waking up the second time was far less traumatic. Thank god.
Peter blinked to awareness slowly. It didn’t take him long to recognize the familiar warm weighted feel of super enhanced painkillers flowing through his veins. In the short time he’d been Spider-Man, Peter had had his fair share of injuries that landed him in the med bay bed that now found himself in, staring at that sliver tiled ceiling above him.
Only, the longer he laid there, Peter realized that it wasn’t not the same one he was used to staring up at. He blinked tiredly at it a while longer before a noise to his right caught his attention. He turned his head, with a tremendous amount of effort, and caught sight of Mr. Stark. Though, it was more like a shadow of the man, Peter thought as he watched the older man idly scroll through his phone.
Mr. Stark looked horrible. He looked like he’d aged ten years since Peter saw him last. His hair left salt and pepper about five shades ago and now was so gray that it looked blond. He looked tired, almost weary.
And skinny. Like, really skinny. Mr. Stark had never been the thickest guy around but now he looked almost sickly.
Mr. Stark shifted then seemed to notice that Peter was awake. He beamed and Peter took comfort in the familiar way his crow feet crinkled around his eyes. He reached out and grabbed one of Peter’s hands, squeezing it lightly.
“How you feeling, kid?”
Peter tried to answer but all that came out was a dry croak. Mr. Stark frowned at him and then poured a glass of water, pushing it into his hand. Peter took a sip and it was best thing he’d even tasted. He sucked it down and even whined a bit when Mr. Stark took it back.
“Easy, Pete. You’ll make yourself sick.” He said, settling back in his chair. His eyes danced over the monitors by Peter’s bedside. He seemed satisfied with what he saw. “Just take it easy for now. The hits you took on Titan are catching up with you.”
Peter made a questioning noise and watched as Mr. Stark shifted uneasily.
“Uh,” He scratched at his facial hair, avoiding Peter’s eyes. His signature goatee was overgrown, spreading across his jaw and patchy. It was gray just like the top of his head. “Apparently your bodies were suspended in the Soul Stone, where you were at, by the way, in case you didn’t know. You’ve got some bruised ribs, a bit of internal bleeding, and some larynx damage from when-”
He briefly mimed getting choked out before grimacing at himself. Then he coughed and hastily stood.
“I’m thirsty. Are you still thirsty? Hang on a sec,” Mr. Stark poured two more glasses of water, practically vibrating with nervous energy. He placed one in front of Peter who, despite being parched just moments before, let it sit.
Mr. Stark took his time sipping at his drink and looked a bit more settled when he looked back up.
“So that means no talking until you’re healed.” He continued, ignoring his mini freak out. “Which is a tall order for you, I know.” He winked. “I’ll get you a tablet or something for the meantime.”
Peter nodded, unable to actually say anything and now feeling the exhaustion that was starting to weigh against him. Even though it was pressing against his eyes, threatening to pull them down, Peter fought against it. He didn’t want to fall asleep.
There was a part of him that whispered that this was all a dream. That laying here, alive and solid, Mr. Stark holding his hand, was too good to be true. He was afraid that if he closed his eyes, if he succumbed to sleep that he’d wake back up surrounded in orange.
“You tired, bud?” Mr. Stark asked like he could read his mind but Peter shook his head. Mr. Stark looked like he had expected that answer and nodded.
“Alright, that’s fine. I guess I’ll have to do enough talking for the best of us.” He joked with a half-smile and edged his chair closer to the bed, adjusting the grip he had on Peter’s hand. He held it like Peter would float away if he let go and Peter didn’t find that he didn’t mind it at all.
“May is on her way. We’re in Wakanda, by the way. She should be here this afternoon. She sends her love.”
Peter’s heart skipped several beats at the thought of seeing May again. Anxiety panged through his chest as he prayed that this wasn’t a dream. That he’d actually be able to see May again.
“What else, what else?” Mr. Stark murmured and scratched again at his chin with that same nervous energy. Peter wished that he’d calm down because now he found himself becoming jittery. They tended to have a bad habit of feeding off of each other’s energies. Countless manic fueled all night sessions in the lab had taught them that.
“I see that you made some scary new friends. Never took Barnes to be the nurturing type.” Mr. Stark said without the usual flinch that Peter knew usually came with that name was mentioned. “Rogers had to threaten sit on him because he kept trying to escape his own hospital bed to come check on you.”
Peter cracked a smile at the visual and Mr. Stark grinned too.
“I don’t think Murdock is a fan of me though. He threatened to sue me for, and I quote, ‘fashioning a minor with weapons of mass destruction’. Plus, apparently, he told you all that he’s Daredevil but now he is, and again I quote, ‘pleading the fifth’. His friend had to actually sit on him to keep him from posting up in here like a gargoyle.”
Peter couldn’t help the laugh that left him at thought of Matt perching up on the bedside table, holding vigil. He regretted it instantly with a wince as his throat caught fire. Mr. Stark gave him the earlier abandoned cup. The cool water eased his abused throat some.
Peter put the cup back and looked up with a sense of ease, the feeling of reality finally sinking in, (this was really happening, he was really back), but it flickered at the look on Mr. Stark’s face. His expression was full of sadness. If Peter looked hard, he could see the bits of pity that hid in curve of his brow. Peter frowned at it.
“Wilson wants you to go to therapy.” Peter frowned even harder, not following for a moment before Mr. Stark continued. “Why did you think you were in Hell, Peter?”
Embarrassed flashed through him, followed by irritation then panic. It felt like an ambush even though, deep down, Peter knew it wasn’t. It still didn’t help the fact that his cheeks colored with emotion or that he didn't even have a voice to defend himself with. Although, Peter wasn’t really sure what he’d say to defend himself.
Mr. Stark was a smart man though. They’d talked about what happened the night Ben died. Peter was sure that his mentor could connect the dots. So, Peter just turned away a bit and shrugged.
He hoped that Mr. Stark would let it go, but he had no such luck.
“You can’t be so hard on yourself, Pete.” He started and pressed on even after Peter started shaking his head. “No, no, no. I don’t want to hear it.” He chastised with a wagging finger. “What happened with your uncle wasn’t your fault.”
Mr. Stark took a breath and, to Peter’s surprise, it hitched.
“You’re so good, kid.” He said, voice strained. “You’re one of the best people I know and you’re not even legal yet. You’re the best out of us all. You’re the future.” He shook his head with a wet sounding laugh. “Hell, Pete. Anyone that knows you more than two seconds can tell you’re a good person. The Winter Solider is wrapped around your finger now. The freaking Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is currently being sat on because he wants to make sure you’re okay.”
Mr. Stark gave another laugh that was borderline hysterical.
“Kid, if there is a God out there judging us then I’m certain that you’re the one he’s using a standard.”
He gasped on another laugh and Peter watched with horror as it morphed into a sob. He couldn’t do anything but relinquish his hands as Mr. Stark moved to the edge of the bed, taking them both and pressing his forehead against them.
This was the first time he’d seen Mr. Stark cry. And cry over him at that. It was overwhelming to say the least and Peter couldn’t do anything about the tears that sprung up in his own eyes.
It seemed like everything he’d gone through, the soul stone, dying, coming back to life, became more real in this moment then when he was actually going through it. Like as if watching Mr. Stark cry over him made everything real.
Pressure built in his chest and he couldn’t help but curl forward, trying to ease it somehow. But it only grew until it felt like he was going to explode. He couldn’t stop the keening whine that left him, then the croaked, wrecked: “Mr. Stark.”
Mr. Stark looked up and moved. He gathered Peter into his arms, minding all the wires and tubes Peter was attached to. Peter grabbed a fistful of his shirt.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Peter. Thank God, you’re here.” Mr. Stark said into Peter’s hair and they cried together some more.
***
Peter wasn’t sure what heaven looked like or if he’d ever see it. He guessed that it really didn’t matter anymore at this point.
Because there was no way heaven was better than having May on one side, Mr. Stark “Call me Tony” on his other, Bucky and Matt standing guard at the foot of his bed, and the knowledge of having friends, teammates, family waiting their turn.
And if Peter did get sent to Hell, then it couldn’t be any worse than what he’d gone through already.
Either way, he was going to be okay.