Work Text:
Miles found Peter sobbing on the roof of the apartment they dubbed their official meeting place. A mostly barren rooftop with a small, well taken care of vegetable garden. Hidden next to tall plants of baby tomatoes and shrubs of lettuce, Miles spotted a sniffling Peter Parker.
Cowered over his phone, with his cheap earbuds shoved incorrectly in his ears. (Right side in his left ear and his left side barely hanging onto his right) Replaying the same videos, over and over again until they were numb in his mind and he no longer processed the words; but rather solely focused on the shit-eating grin of Tony Stark.
Peter whimpered and clutched his phone tighter to his chest.
And Miles hated that this wasn’t the first time he caught Peter like this.
Every day for the past week, Miles would show up for training -that Peter had said he wanted to start up again. Despite his insistence, Miles was weak against Peter’s insistence of wanting to reintroduce the smallest bit normality back into their lives. Even if five years have gone by and neither of them remembered even a day passing.
Gwen was hesitant about breaking out her stained white hoodie. If not because her mother was being terribly clingy- then it was probably her inability to deal with Peter weeping so openly into his phone. She swore it wasn't because she didn’t care about the guy, explaining to Miles that she just wasn't wired to help emotional people. Gwen was worried she would hurt Peter, say something cruel and insensitive and really insisted that Miles go alone for now on.
And it wasn’t Miles’ fault that he knew Peter was watching old videos of him and Stark of only a couple months -well, five years ago really, but who was keeping count?- ago. Or that every so often a strangled “I’m... so sorry Tony” or "I-I miss you" would leave the older boys mouth. He only had his enchanted hearing to blame for that.
But it did nothing to ease the guilt that ate Miles alive.
He would arrive at the rooftop and hope Peter would be coherent enough to at least maintain a conversation. Miles would silently crawl up the chipped roof and grimace at the sight of the teenager curled up into himself, hands snaked around his body in a vice grip. So entranced in his grief that the older boy’s enhanced instincts and hearing couldn’t be bothered to alert the weeping boy of Miles’ presence.
Miles didn’t want to disrupt -knew better than to just butt in like nothing was wrong- and so each time, he left, as if he saw nothing.
He would write a half-assed excuse of a text to Peter for why he didn’t show, and Peter would send one the next day saying that it’s no problem and to be safe, see u later :).
Miles once again debated leaving Peter to himself and acting as if nothing was wrong. That everything was fine and Thanos was nothing more than a distant memory, and everyone could finally move on and live.
But then a particularly horrible sob ripped out of Peters throat and Miles knew he needed to stay this time.
Sucking in a deep breath through clenched teeth, Miles shrugged the gym bag hanging from his shoulders. The items inside jostling against one another loudly, alerting the crying boy of another presence.
Peter flinched and quickly whirled around, already tugging his mask back on and raising a non-threatening fist in the air- as if that would frighten anyone away.
When he saw it was only Miles, Peter exhaled and rolled off his mask. Quickly remembering that his eyes were still red and splotchy from crying, he hurried to wipe his cheeks and scrub at his eyes. An abashed blush flooded his face, tinting his cheeks and ears pink; and along with his red-rimmed eyes and heavy eye bags, only aided him in resembling more of a depressed, sickly tomato.
Not that Miles would ever tell him that of course.
Peter flashed the boy a false, watery grin and bent his wrist in a small wave.
“H-Hey Miles.” He managed to rasp out in between coughs. “W..What’re you doin’ here?”
Miles frowned deeply, he knew Peter has forgotten.
“Hey, Peter!” He greeted, suddenly smiling broad and full. “Sorry, I’m late, MJ kept makin’ me help her pack.”
The red of his suit was emitting a small glow in the background of the night, reminding Peter of the glow in the dark stars stuck on his bedroom ceiling. Ones that Ben accidentally super glued on, making it impossible to take off -much to Mays dismay- not that Peter ever wanted to.
Miles trotted over to where Peter was - who scrambled around trying to readjust the blankets and pillows that were strewn about and kick away the used tissues into a dark part of the roof. Miles already caught him crying, he didn’t need to see how much of sloppy mess he was- and tenderly set down his bag. He plopped down on one of the many cushions and wriggled around, making himself right at home and drawing out a snigger from Peter. Miles reached over and tugged a couple of ripe cherry tomatoes out of their vines and placed them in between both Spidermen.
Both boys sat in contented silence for a moment, with Miles humming a small song under his breath and fiddling with the ends of his shoelaces- that he absolutely refused to tie no matter how much Peter insisted. Something about purposeful fashion and it being the look he was going for.
Soon, Peter had swallowed the thick lump that was stuck in his throat. He went to wipe his sweaty palms on his lap, and only after realized he still had his suit on. He moved around so he was facing Miles and forced a reassuring grin that was not at all reassuring.
“I’m uh, really sorry for not being around a lot Miles,” Peter muttered, unable to meet the boy’s gaze. “I know that I’m letting you and Gwen down, and I-I know you wanna practice and I’m here just doing nothing,” He let out a shuddering breath, “So...I’m just...just really, really sorry.”
Shame was bubbling off Peter so great, Miles felt his own eyes beginning sting with tears. It was unfair how much the older boy had to shoulder, how much he had to live with.
And Miles refused to be another burden for Peter to carry.
“Peter, don’t worry about it man,” Miles mumbled, too afraid to speak in a voice above a whisper. “Don’t feel bad. I just...I'm really worried about you.”
Peter let out a heavy sigh and hunched his shoulders deeper.
Miles pouted and with an exaggerated sigh, and collapsed heavily onto Peters left side. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until Peter wrapped an arm around his neck, bringing the younger boy closer and enticing a loud snort out of him. Peter grinned as he draped a thick blanket over both their shoulders, Miles smiled up at him.
Despite it almost being summer, there was still a cold nip in the air that warranted a thick sweater or an oversized blanket. Many people swore that they could still feel the dust in their lungs with each breath they took.
Peter noticed that the video was still playing and reached for his phone to quickly shut it off.
But one sad look from Miles had him setting it down in between their laps with a heavy sigh. He plucked off his left earbud and offered it to Miles who took it without a moment’s hesitation. And together, they browsed through Peter’s gallery. Full of videos and pictures ranging from Peter and MJ smiling over a napping Miles, to Peter posing next to an exhausted Tony Stark and a regal Pepper Potts. Screenshots of outlandish texts, selfies May took, blurry photos of homework.
The scrolled through pictures of Peter sneaking a picture while inside Tony’s lab, annoying him or just zooming in on his eye or forlorn expression. Or with him, Tony, Pepper, and Happy all out on a lunch date of sorts -with Pepper smiling ever so prettily, and Happy grinning awkwardly with his arms stuck in stiff positions. They scrolled through a picture of billionaire Tony Stark mid sneeze that sent a trail of giggles out of Miles- and of an energetic Peter pointing to a hungover Tony who looked like death incarnate.
When they came across the home video of Peter going to Germany, they skipped over that one entirely.
Miles had the good sense to keep quiet.
As Peter scrolled on, he stopped at a picture of him and Miles, grinning cheekily at the camera, with an unamused Tony Stark in the background holding up an un energetic peace sign. Miles sat up straighter and leaned forward as if to get a better glimpse of the already clear picture.
“Remember that?” Peter murmured.
Miles hummed.
It was taken only a few weeks before they had left for space, Peter reminisced, Tony had wanted to meet the kid Peter deemed worthy of doing on one of his suits. Which is why he pulled Peter out of class early with a wry smile and a few autographs here and there, and dragged him by the back of his collar. Threw the kid into his car and demanded Peter show him where the other kid was, now Parker. And while Peter didn’t want to sell out Miles, especially to Tony Stark of all people, he knew prolonging their inevitable meeting would only make matters worse.
And that was how Miles, once out of class, was pulled into a car and forced to sit in front of the calculating stare of Tony Stark
Miles jaw had literally fallen open, and his eyes were glazed over in awe as he stared at the infamous man in front of him. His entire life, he had known of Tony Stark, he was in texts books and lectures and coloring book that the young man consumed his entire life. Yet it took everything in Miles not to squeal, because Tony Stark real and he was sitting right in front of him.
Tony groaned and ran a hand down his face and what sounded like a faint “I'm too old for this shit,” left his mouth. He went on a long rant on how Miles was now technically tied with him, and if he were to wear his suit -Miles smiled so wide at the mention that he could actually keep the suit- he had to be responsible and not bring it to show in tell just for the hell of it.
Compensation for pulling the kids out of class and for briefly scaring the absolute shit of Miles, was that he would take a selfie.
Once both boys were shooed out of the car and Miles got his handshake and blurted out a flustered introduction and gushed admiration. (One that Peter absolutely made fun of) Tony eyed them both and said he would deal with them in a couple of weeks and to bring the other one with them next time. He didn't have time to drive and also get her -Miles let it slip that it was a her, but decided to glaze over the fact that Gwen would rather cut off her toe than be in the same room as Tony Stark- so he told them to lay low and he would be in contact with them shortly.
But that never happened.
Because three weeks later, both Spiderman and Iron Man went up into space and were never seen coming back down.
Well, Spidermam wasn’t.
“Do you miss him?” Miles asked after a few beats of silence and instantly regretted it.
No shit Peter missed Tony, honestly, Miles could have smacked himself he was so stupid. He didn’t even know why he said it, he already knew the answer. But Peter was clearly still in so much pain, and was so clearly denying himself the relief of speaking about it. Miles just wanted to help, wanted to talk Peter through this, he just lacked the emotional grace to word his concerns.
Peter sensed this and smiled weakly. “Yeah,” Brown eyes flickered back to the screen, and Peter dug his nails further into his palm. “A lot.”
Miles found himself asking; “Did’ja see him die?”
The tips of Peter’s fingers trembled, and a cold shiver straightened the older boy’s spine.
“Yeah,” Peter swallowed hard and practically forced the next words out his mouth. “I saw him snap, too.”
Miles choked on his own spit.
“Holy shit, no way.” He managed to sputter out in between hacks and coughs.
Once he quieted down enough, Miles grimaced under the heated glare of Peter. Although, he did favor the austere stare than the sharp smack upside the head from Michelle whenever he let a curse escape.
“Sorry.” He very quickly apologized, before promptly sitting up straight and leaning forward into Peter’s space. “So, it’s real right? Like, Thanos coming back an’ Stark killing him? It’s real?” Miles blurted out, palms flat against his thighs.
Peter snorted at Mile’s star-struck expression, unable to fault the kid for being curious. There was a lot of talk and speculation as to what really happened. Many refusing to believe that they had to thank Tony Stark for their future.
He nodded and hastily summed up what happened, only later realizing that it was the first time he spoke aloud about what happened to anyone.
Peter only remembered hating that he said they had won.
Because it didn’t feel like a win. Not with Tony half dead, staring up at the sky with empty, almost lifeless eyes. And Peter having to fight the urge to not cry right then and there at the sight of the man who took up an entire room with just a smile and a cocky tilt of his eyebrows. Who seemed far too stubborn and busy to even consider death, slumped down against collapsed rubble and looking so fragile and brittle, as if he could easily snap in half. As if he too would turn into dust and blow away.
It was only a few minutes ago that Peter woke up on the strange planet with a gasp, being shooed by Dr. Strange and the others into a portal and warned to get ready for a fight, a big one. He hurried through and immediately set out on finding Tony, not knowing if Strange was telling the truth in that five years had really passed and if this really was the final battle.
He remembered rambling on about god knows what, Tony watching with the softest of gazes, before abruptly pulling him into a tender embrace. The older man pressing a brief kiss to Peter’s cheek, and tightening his hold as if to assure himself that Peter was really there, alive and breathing.
Peter had made a surprised noise in the back of his throat when Tony had collapsed onto him, leaving him to hold up the man from falling down onto the battleground.
But it was so warm -it sent a calming jolt through his bones- and horribly gentle and it made Peter feel so incredibly safe.
If only for a few minutes; because not long after, Tony snapped his fingers with the mightiest of explosions and ended up dead right in front of Peter's eyes and he could do nothing but watch as-
Miles shuffled around and brought Peter out of his thoughts.
He stuck out his tongue as he ruffled through his bag -an odd habit Peter found terribly adorable, but knew better than to blatantly point it out- and quickly pulled out a spray can. He shook it around in Peter’s face, a boyish grin resting comfortably on his lips as he leaned in close.
“So, wanna come with me to say thanks?” He asked with another shake of the can.
Peter watched as Miles wriggled around in his criss-cross position, his legs probably stiff and itching for the chance to move around. He always did hate sitting still for long periods of time, preferring to be running around being busy.
It was both a blessing and a curse whenever Peter took him out on patrol - half the time he found himself struggling to catch up and panting for breath when he managed to finally catch up.
Besides, with the way Miles was looking at him, smile so wide and bright that even the sun wouldn’t dare to compete compete - how could could he say no?
~.~
They spent a good ten minutes picking out the perfect spot.
Well, Miles had anyway. Peter was left to trail behind like a lost puppy. He knew next to nothing when it came to street art, but Miles had made it very clear that they couldn’t just pick any spot.
Peter was just grateful for the distraction.
While he wanted to tell Miles that he had more than enough of being reminded of Tony at every corner, and each and every mural and dedication only served in breaking his heart, he couldn’t be the one to take away Miles’s smile.
It was so big and earnest and if it meant that Peter had to bite his tongue and deal with his issues then so be it.
Soon Miles had settled on what he called the ‘perfect spot’ near Brooklyn (which, to Peter, looked just like every other spot Miles had rejected) and had pulled out his phone and earbuds, quickly set down his gym bag and pulled out two paint cans. He stood back and stared the red blicked walls for two minutes, eyes flicking around the entire wall with a contemplative gaze.
He nodded, and promptly began to go to work -startling the crap out of Peter, but who went shock still in awe as he watched Miles work.
The music he had been listening to bled out of his earbuds, fueling the boys’ frantic yet smooth movements. He kept picking up and setting down a series of paint cans, in a myriad of colors, all blending together while still standing out against the red backdrop.
It was all confusing and dizzying to Peter, especially with his heightened senses. He seemed to have trouble keeping up with the fast-paced movements of Miles, along with the wild colors that still seemed to all go together.
After a few minutes, Peter realized that two faces began to show up. Or at least, the bottom half of two faces.
“Hey, can you help me up?” Miles asked, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m almost done, just need the top.”
Peter dumbly nodded, still staring at the mural in wonder. “Yeah,” He stepped closer and grinned, patting Miles on the shoulder. “I didn’t know you were this good Miles, it’s amazing.”
The young boy smiled bashfully and reached over to scratch the back of his neck
“I’m okay, I guess.” He let out a self-conscious chuckle and kicked the gravel with the toe of his shoe, before looking up at Peter. “Just don’t drop me, okay? I’ll tell MJ”
Peter laughed and shoved Miles lightly, quickly kneeling so he could climb on his shoulders. The latter laughed but still compiled, being mindful to juggle three paint cans and maintain his balance all at once.
Peter rose slowly and held on tight to Miles’ ankles, beginning to sweat out of fear of dropping him. Even though he knew Miles would be fine, it didn’t stop him from nearly digging his nails into Miles’ skin. Scared to breathe too deeply, in case he jostle the boy and ruin his process.
“Who taught you how to do this?” Peter asked after a couple of beats of silence.
Miles didn’t respond for a while, seeming to be far too engrossed in his work than to process what Peter had asked him. Soon though, he lowered the volume of his music and glanced down at the boy holding him up with a fond, if strained smile.
“My uncle,” He said, teeth poking out of his rueful grin. “My dad hated it though, he was a cop.”
Miles laughed as the worked. “So I would like, sneak outta my house and go with my uncle to like- some weird ass place in the subway or somethin’,” Miles continued, voice far off and distant. And Peter wondered if he was even speaking to him anymore. “We haven’t done it for a while though. I think because my dad died and knew how much he hated it.
Miles stopped working, and Peter began to panic. Wondering if this really was the right choice to make, it was illegal after all -not that he thought he would get in that much trouble if they were caught anyways, it would be stupid to arrest an avenger and a superhero over something so trivial as this.
The boy above Peter gave a sudden jolt of laughter. “ I missed this though.” He said and began going back to work.
Humming a small tune, Miles gave a few more sprays of his can. He leaned back, careful to not put too much pressure on his back -lest he loses his footing and comes tumbling down on top of Peter. He shook his head and sprayed a web for a paint can laying a few feet away, he raised his arm and caught it out of the air.
“What’s your favorite flower?” Miles asked, eyes shifting between the two cans he held, he had abandoned the third one a long time ago.
Peter thought for a moment. “Uh, sunflower?”
Miles’ eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Really?” He asked, before smiling. “That’s mine too!”
Sniggering a bit, Miles went to adding the final touch, the yellow a much-needed pop of color.
It wasn’t long before Miles was exclaiming “Done!” proud that the last couple of months hadn’t cost him to lose the skill he fought so long and hard to perfect.
He gripped onto the wall and pushed off Peters’ shoulders, twisting his body forward into a flip, and landing with his knees bent and a shit-eating grin. Not even out of breath, Miles bent down into an exaggerated bow.
“Show off,” Peter grumbled with a fond roll of his eyes.
Miles only threw his head back and cackled.
He reached down and dug around in his bag, pulled out a handmade sticker, jumped off the ground and slapped it right next to the drying paint.
“What'dya think?” He asked with a large smile and the throw of his hand she hind his neck. “Think it’s good?”
Peter looked up and felt his breath actually get stuck in his throat, something he thought could only happen in fiction and those romance novels May loved so much. But it was the only thing he could describe for what he was feeling as he looked at Miles’ mural.
It was nothing short of beautiful.
Tony’s profile was staring up at the night sky, his face clear as day even under the mask Miles had painted. Clearly not wanting to paint the suit without the man inside first. There was a large smile on his face, as a large swirl of colors enveloped his body and face. As if he were a part of them.
And at his back was Natasha Romanov.
She, too, was smiling and gazing at the sky -a beautiful sense of wonder fixed in her eyes that Peter didn’t know how Miles managed to encapture. Her blazing red hair swirled around her chin and her jaw, along with the many colors and designs Miles thought of adding. A myriad of hues, in all shapes and designs, interwoven in between her and Tony.
And surrounding them, were sunflowers.
Peter almost burst into tears right then and there, words unable to properly leave his tongue.
Miles watched as his mentor struggled to speak, his mouth opening and closing every second -resembling a fish out of water if Miles were being honest. An odd sudden flush of pride flooded into his chest, proud that he was the one who was able to turn Peter into an inconsolable mess.
He smiled and walked next to Peter, leaning on his shoulder and focusing on Natasha’s calm expression.
“Did you meet her?” Miles asked, eyes gleaming big and bright.
Peter suddenly flushed pink and scratched his cheek nervously. “Uh...yeah, yeah I did.”
He really didn’t like talking about it though, it was embarrassing enough and made him scream in his pillow at 3 am. Cringing every now and then when the encounter flashed through his mind. The only other people he told were May and Ned, and he couldn’t stop flushing red each time he so much as looked at them. Too embarrassed of the jokes and snide remarks.
And god knows Tony and Happy loved giving him shit for how he introduced himself to Natasha.
Peter was a stuttering, blushing mess when he first met the Avenger- which was done so by Tony saying their names and throwing his hands up in the air, leaving it up to them.
Peter was conflicted as to whether to call her by her superhero name -which he thought was stupid, and he didn’t want to look stupid in front of Black fucking Widow- or call her Natasha, or Ms. Romanov or Ma’am. He ended up deciding against the last one when he remembered May muttering about how she felt like an old hag whenever some punk kid called her that.
So he ended up stuffing a sweaty palm into her open hand and stuttering a barely coherent. “N-Nice to uh, meet you, um, M-Miss Natasha...I-I I’m Peter Parker.” He sputters, voice cracking.
The Russian had raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow and shot Tony -who was trying his damnedest not to double over in laughter- an odd look over Peter’s head. But she still smiled softly and shook Peter’s hand for the hell of it. After all, the kid looked like he was on the verge of combusting into flames and melting into a puddle all at once at the sight of her.
Besides, it wasn’t often she met with genuine Happy fans of hers. People tended to prefer the living breathing golden retriever God Of Thunderand Captain Of The BoyScouts, Mr Goody Goody Captain America. Never really the trained assassin who, unlike the two sunny blondes, never made any sort of attempt to come off as approachable or....nice. And yet here was this kid who was looking up at her as if she were the best-damned thing in the world. Smiling so nervously, sweat practically dripping the fine side of his cheek. Giving him the best comforting smile she could manage, Natasha patted Peter on the head and gave Tony one of her deadliest glares. Ready to rip him a new one for getting a kid involved in -what she liked to call- his and Steve’s marital issues.
Peter figured once everything calmed down, he would have the chance to properly meet her once again. Reintroduce himself without all the stuttering and the flushed cheeks, maybe get a good joke in.
But Peter didn’t ever get see her again, after Germany that is, because last he heard Natasha had been hiding out with Captain America. And before Peter could ever truly meet her again he was told she had traded her soul for one of the stones, and for the world.
“It was a long time, though,” Peter finished rather lamely, a sad sort of smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he remembered the solemn redhead who ruffled his hair. “But she was so cool, I mean, they were all so cool.”
Miles nodded and continued to watch Peter admiring his work; the latter eyes focused entirely on Tony.
And Miles hoped he would never have to make a mural out of Peter.
He stared at his work with serious eyes, delicately tracing the lines of Tony’s face and staring hard at the colors until they blurred into one. Blinking rapidly and turned to look at Peter, who despite the red in his cheeks and water in his eyes- was smiling.
“Peter?”
He wiped his eyes and answered, voice soft and raw. “Yeah?”
Miles blinked. “You know I got your back right?” At Peters questioning stare, Miles sighed. “I know I’m not as strong as you, an’ I know I mess up, but I swear I’ll get stronger. I got you. ”
Peter stared down at Miles with a painful tightness stuck in his chest.
Standing under the light of the lampost, and the overpowering smell of wet paint lingering between them both; Peter hated how incredibly old Miles looked. With his shoulders squared and his eyes glazed over and impossibly cold, Peter wished he would stay small and young forever.
And suddenly, he now realized just how helpless Tony felt.
Peter found that he could only nod and smile, bring an arm around Miles’ tense shoulders and hope he did not think he needed to bear the weight of the entire world on his shoulders as he once did.
There was no point in trying to convince Miles otherwise though, Peter already knew, he was far too stubborn for his own good -much like he was. And Peter silently sent a small thanks up to Tony every day for putting up with him so well- and in the end, would need to figure it out on his own.
Peter let out a heavy exhale and continued staring at the mural in front of him, only to be interrupted by Miles once again.
“You’re going to Europe right?” He asked with a tilt of the head.
Peter sighed, the thought of packing weighing heavy on his shoulders. “Yeah, the whole decathlon team.”
Miles brightened and suddenly threw an arm around Peter’s neck, bringing them closer together and pressing their cheeks. “So you and MJ are gonna go to Europe huh?” He jeered in a low voice and a wiggle of his eyebrows.
Peter turned ten shades of red and frantically waved his hands around, he shoved a cackling Miles to the side and hissed in a weak and embarrassed voice.
“Shut up.”
He made an pitiful attempt to get away, but Miles wasn’t having it.
“No, no, Peter it’s fine, look, take me with you” When Peter only raised an eyebrow, Miles smirked. “I’ll be your wingman!”
Peter threw his head back in laughter, taking to clutching his stomach and nearly stumbling over his own two feet. Miles fake pouted and continued listing horrible advice on how to woo Michelle, only doing so to drive a laugh further out of Peter.
And standing under the watchful eyes of Tony and Natasha, Peter couldn't help but feel impossibly safe.