Work Text:
Peter groans as he peels his eyes open, cringing at the bright input.
“Peter,” Doctor Strange says, snapping a finger in front of his eyes. “It’s been five years. They need us.”
“I’m... sorry?”
And suddenly, the memories of the last day (five years, apparently?) come flooding back to him. Not knowing what else to do, his brain overflowing with unasked questions that leave a bitter taste on his tongue, Peter slowly pushes himself up, grabbing onto Doctor Strange’s arm for support.
From the concerned faces staring at him, Peter recognizes most of the “guardians of the galaxy” that had been with him and Tony on the ship.
Tony...
“Where’s Mr. Stark?” Peter asks frantically, swaying a little, his feet struggling to support him.
“Fighting Thanos, as we should be.”
Once Peter finds his bearings, still sore from the fight they had lost (five years ago), Doctor Strange begins to conjure sparkling portals. Peter swings through one of the holes, following the other heroes, and comes face-to-face with the man who had killed him. Apparently.
“Avengers...” Captain America starts.
(Peter can feel his entire body trembling, from head to toe. Remembers his body pulling itself apart and stitching itself back and Mr. Stark I don’t want to go - )
“Assemble.”
(I don’t want to go I’m sorry -)
Somehow, Peter holds his own against Thanos’s army. Somehow. To be honest, he isn't really sure that he's the one fighting anyone at all. It almost feels like some sort of spirit has inhabited his body, and is now proceeding to punch a bunch of aliens in the face.
He hears himself tell Karen to activate instant kill mode, and he wouldn’t have said that, right?
Dead bodies litter the ground. The air carries the heavy stench of blood, sweat, and dust. Peter watches himself defeat (murder) the enemy, feels his core burn and burn and continue to strain itself.
Peter’s heart catches in his chest, and he struggles to gulp down another breath of oxygen. It's all too much, too much. The battlefield is feeling less like a battle and more like a war, and he doesn't - he can't fight a war.
Shivers convulse Peter’s body, and he throws one final, mortal punch, before webbing away from the fight. Tony – he needs Tony.
Wandering aimlessly among the corpses, Peter’s ears find the familiar, comforting sound of the Iron Man repulsors. He shoots a web towards a nearby clear patch, and a warm feeling builds up in his chest as the repulsor noise grows closer.
Peter lands on the ground and feels the course land embrace his feet, relishing the feeling of being stationary, rather than swinging through the air. He never thought that he wouldn’t want to web-sling, but all Peter can manage right now is needing a hug.
Tony lands on the ground beside Peter, his jets causing small puffs of dust to erupt beside his feet.
“Hey!” Peter exclaims, not knowing exactly how to start. “Holy cow! You will not believe what’s been going on. Do you remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty? And I must’ve passed out because I woke up and you were gone. But Doctor Strange was there, right? And he said, ‘It’s been five years, they need us.’ And he started doing the yellow sparkly thing that he does. Anyway...”
Peter lets out a small, involuntary oomph as Tony throws his arms around him. He relishes the way the smooth metal feels underneath his fingertips, the way Tony’s beard scratches against his cheek.
“Oh. This is nice,” Peter hears himself whisper.
(We’re not there yet -)
Peter wants to say so much. Ask about May, for another hug, and what the hell had just happened to him. But his throat can't force out the words, so, instead, Peter lets himself be embraced.
Now they have to go.
Tony’s words, not Peter’s.
(Peter doesn't want to go, he doesn't want to go -)
The fight continues. Peter continues punching, webbing, instant killing, focused only on reaching Tony again for another hug. Suddenly, his spidey-sense burns at the back of his neck.
His immediate first thought is: Tony.
Webbing across the war, Peter spots his mentor father tackling Thanos. With his enhanced vision, Peter can make out Tony’s gauntlet’s nanites pulling the Infinity Stones from Thanos.
No.
He'll die.
Peter needs another hug.
Watching helplessly, Peter sees Thanos throw Tony to the ground, like a piece of garbage. A faint glow shimmers from his arm.
The spirit overtakes him again, and Peter finds himself pushing himself through the air until he reaches Tony, the man's arm burning with the power of the gems. Peter isn't sure how he knows what to do next. Frankly, he doesn't remember making the decision, or going to do it at all.
But, somehow, Peter finds his hand tightly latched around Tony’s, absorbing some of the energy. His head is spinning, pounding with the sheer power. Something about it reminds him of his dusting. Is he dying again?
And then, suddenly, a giant relief wracks his body. His eyesight begins to clear, and he starts to regains control of his limbs and mind. Wrenching his eyelids open, Peter finds each Avenger holding onto one other.
Captain America, Bucky Barnes, Scarlet Witch, Hawkeye, Black Panther, the Guardians – and countless other people. Slowly, Peter ends up feeling almost godly, the amount of power coursing through his veins no longer overwhelming, but empowering.
(“And we... are... the Avengers.”)
Peter vaguely sees Thanos disintegrate, and then he vaguely feels himself black out. And then he doesn't feel anything at all anymore.
The walls are white and the first thing Peter thinks is: I’m in a marshmallow.
Unfortunately, Peter is not in a marshmallow, as he realizes upon blinking his eyes a few times. In the background, there's a steady beeping, keeping track of something that's probably important.
“Am I alive?” Peter manages to croak out as he attempts to gain more of an awareness of his surroundings.
“Yep, buddy, we’re both alive. You really saved my ass back there.”
Tony.
Peter peels his eyes open and frantically searches the room for the source of Tony’s voice, but finds nothing other than the marshmallow walls and a few blurs of color.
Closing his eyes dejectedly, Peter mutters, “Can’t see.”
“Your body was overwhelmed with the power of the Infinity Stones,” comes an unfamiliar voice. “Sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m Dr. Cho, I operated on you. I’m a friend of your – um, of Tony’s.”
“Dr. Helen Cho?” Peter rasps.
“Yes?”
“H-Holy shit, I’ve read about your work. You’re on my friend Ned’s scientist shrine.”
“I’m... honored.”
“Oh, uh, anyway.”
“Yes, well, the stones seem to have had an extreme effect on you, unlike that of everyone else. Most likely because of the mutations in your body. Oh, and Tony is completely fine, before you ask.”
“Right here, Pete,” says Tony’s voice.
“T’ny,” Peter mumbles, letting a wave of relief wash over him and send him into a peaceful dream.
Recovering takes longer than Peter would like it to.
He learns that five years had, indeed passed. Five years that will never be recovered, and that Peter will have to learn to live without. Luckily, Ned, MJ, and May had all been dusted as well. Peter hates the pure joy that had swamped him when he found out that the people he cares about had died, but he can't help it.
Not only does he have to learn how to reintegrate to this post-Thanos society, but he has to physically recover, too. For some reason, Peter is the only one who had been really taken out by the use of the stones, and it's weeks before he regains full control of all of his faculties.
Some days, he feels like he's floating. Weightless. On others, he feels as though he's sinking deeper and deeper into the ground. Leaden.
Dr. Cho explains that his DNA is attempting to cleanse itself of the foreign substance that the stones had entered into his bloodstream, and that his spider powers are only slowing the process down.
But, eventually, the bad days stop. This is a good thing. A less good thing is the fact that he does not return to normal. Rather, the weightless feeling persists.
He's prescribed three weeks of physical therapy to adjust.
“I hate this,” Peter groans, for the twelfth time that session.
“I know you do, kid, but it’s helping. Just last week, you could hardly take a step without falling into the wall.”
Peter scowls at Tony and grabs onto the older man’s hands, pushing himself up from the tiled floor. Tony keeps a grounding arm on Peter’s back, and Peter walks, slowly but surely, across the training room.
They continue their laps, Peter steadily gaining confidence and adjusting to the new feeling, when Tony’s phone buzzes.
“Midtown’s resuming next week,” Tony explains with a smirk, pocketing the device after glancing at the notification.
“Fuck,” Peter mutters. He grabs a water bottle and guzzles down some of its contents. “Do I have to go back?”
“Come on, you don’t like school?”
“I like Ned and MJ.”
“Is that Dash kid still bothering you? Because -”
“I’ve got it handled, Tony.”
That's another development, ‘Tony.’ While Peter hasn't admitted his true paternal feelings toward his mentor, both Tony and May seems to know (and Tony even appears to reciprocate them), and they'd worked out a shared custody agreement.
It had also been tough for May to find a job after reappearing, so she begrudgingly accepted a temporary career as the nurse for Stark Industries workers. (It turns out that the interns and scientists injure themselves quite often, and Peter hopes that she'll keep at it.) To top it off, for convenience sake, May moved into the Tower as well, and Parker-Stark family movie nights are a new constant in Peter’s life.
“Alright, then, Pete, time for sit-ups.”
Peter rolls his eyes, but nevertheless follows the instructions.
It's the first day back. Finally, after hours of work, Peter's gotten accustomed to the new feeling of floating, and he's sort-of okay with it.
Plus, it turns out that using the stones comes with some benefits. Peter’s powers are all further enhanced. He's stronger and faster, and, best of all, he can focus his senses. Instead of constantly hearing everything all the time, he finds himself able to tune into specific conversations or people, and his sensory overloads have become few and far between.
These thoughts are bouncing around in Peter’s mind as he makes his way to the familiar high school doors, waving goodbye to May and Tony, who sit behind the tinted windows of the car.
Adjusting his backpack strap, Peter smiles shyly at Cindy and Betty, who are engaged in an animated conversation (that Peter is thrilled to be able to tune out), and walks over to MJ. Her curly hair bounces down her forehead and covered her left eye. As she turns the page of her copy of Invisible Man, she tucks the stray strand behind her ear.
“Hey, M!” Peter calls out, walking towards the bench where MJ sits reading.
She ignores him, puts a finger inside the spine of the book, scans the rest of the page, and uses a playing card as a makeshift bookmark. When she glances up and meets Peter’s eye, he can almost see a shadow of a smile.
After all, the three friends have only seen each other via video calls, as each was busy reacclimating and spending time with family. In a moment of ‘weakness,’ MJ had even admitted that she ‘missed her nerds.’
Before MJ can respond, Ned comes running over, throwing his arms around both MJ and Peter. MJ immediately pulls away, but Peter hugs Ned back, and they remain that way for a few moments.
“Dude!” Ned yells. “I missed you so much! Also, you have to tell me everything. Nobody knows what happened with Thanos, but I saw this one post on Reddit and the poster said that his friend’s cousin’s babysitter’s brother’s son knows Ant-Man's daughter and that she said that all of the Avengers used the infinity gems -”
“Breathe, Ned,” Peter says, a laugh bubbling out of his throat. “I’ll tell you everything later, someplace more private.”
Ned nods in understanding, before grinning once more. “And you’ll get me everyone’s autograph?”
“Yeah, Ned, I’ll get you everyone’s autograph .”
Peter gives Ned one last hug and MJ one last smile, before heading over to his first period class.
Peter’s first period English teacher is a woman named Ms. Louise.
“Hello, everyone,” Ms. Louise says. “I know that this year is a little crazy, what with half of you knowing each other and the other half knowing each other, but I hope that we can all band together as one united class. Let’s go around and introduce ourselves. My name is Ms. Louise, I was not a victim of the Snap, and my favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate.”
Peter’s fists clench. He still doesn't understand how anyone can talk about the Snap so casually. Whenever someone so much as snaps their fingers, mentions outer space, or says the words: ‘I don’t want to go,’ Peter can almost feel his skin stitching itself apart and back together, yet again. Or sometimes, feels himself being torn apart by the power of the stones. Neither option is preferable.
“I’m Jackson, I was Snapped, and I like cookie dough ice cream.”
Peter recognizes Jackson. He isn't very close with the boy, but it's nice to see a familiar face. Other than Jackson, Peter only recognizes Betty from Academic Decathlon, and Alice, a girl Peter had shared several classes with back in freshman year.
Slowly, every student dutifully responds to Ms. Louise, until it's Peter’s turn.
“Uh, I’m Peter, I like Stark Raving Hazelnuts...” (This is an acquired taste. Peter hadn’t been a fan until he saw how happy the flavor made Tony, and he's eaten it at Parker-Stark movie night ever since, now associating the two together.) Wiping the nice memories of movie night away from his brain, Peter wills himself to say the three words: ‘I was Snapped.’ That shouldn’t be so hard.
Exhaling sharply, Peter continues. “And... I...” Best to rip off the band-aid? “And I was Snapped.”
Nope. Nope, nope, nope.
Peter’s skin starts burning, his spidey-sense infuriatingly silent. His breaths quicken; his hands shake. Peter struggles to force air into his lungs, all sounds so distant, save his beating heart thumping in his ears.
“I need to go,” Peter manages to gasp out, bolting away from classroom and throwing himself into a bathroom stall.
He can't breathe (he doesn't want to go). With shaking hands, Peter pulls his phone out of his pocket and clicks on Tony’s contact.
The man picks up on the first ring.
“Peter?” The familiar voice soothingly crackles out of Peter’s shitty speaker.
Peter wants to respond, he really does, but it's a bit difficult to do anything other than gasp for air right about now. He fruitlessly scratches and pulls at his chest.
“Okay, kiddo, you’re having a panic attack, I need you to breathe with me, alright?”
Tony starts to breathe exaggeratedly through the phone, and after a bit of a struggle, Peter shakily attempts to match it.
They spend close to a half hour simply breathing, until Peter feels better, albeit a little shaky and utterly exhausted.
“So good, bambino, I’m proud of you,” Tony says, as Peter slumps against the door of the stall. “Do you want to talk about what triggered you?”
Peter sniffles sadly. “Literally nothing. It was stupid. I – I just had to say that I was one of the... for introductions. And I totally flipped out. I’m such a fuck-up.”
If he's being honest, he tunes out Tony’s response. Peter knows what the man would say, anyway - some bullshit about how he had been through a lot of trauma, and that panic attacks don’t show weakness, so he shouldn’t be embarrassed, blah blah blah. (In actuality, Tony tells Peter that if he doesn't feel ready to go back to school, he doesn't have to. He had also uses the l-word – love – for the first time. But Peter doesn't hear that.)
“Seriously, Tony, I’m fine. I’ll just go back to class now. Thanks for helping me.”
And with that, Peter hangs up.
After splashing some water on his face, his entire body still trembling, Peter decides to stop delaying the inevitable, and sheepishly returns to his class, where Ms. Louise is going over the syllabus for the year.
“Ah, Peter,” she smiles, while Peter awkwardly finds his way back to his empty desk. “I’m sorry that I pushed you. In the future, just tell me if there’s anything you’re uncomfortable with.”
She gives Peter a genuine grin, which he returns with an utterly fake one, clutching his fingernails into his fists (to try to stop the shaking) so hard that his palms began to bleed.
Every class passes in a similar manner. Lunch with Ned and MJ is the high point of the day. They eat in the library, Peter whispering quiet responses to Ned’s many, many questions about the Avengers.
Peter's grateful that Ned doesn't ask anything more about Thanos or the final battle, and is content telling his friend about how he's sixty-seven percent certain that Bucky and Steve are a couple.
A few minutes before the bell rings, signifying the end of lunch, all three teenagers receive an e-mail. Peter hardly ever reads his e-mails, the unread messages on his inbox totaling 12,000, but MJ glances through every single one (Peter and Ned had a conspiracy theory that even her e-mail alone scares away spammers), and she raises an eyebrow as she looks over the e-mail in question.
“Mr. Harrington is calling an emergency meeting today,” she explains at Peter’s questioning glance. “For all the old AcaDec members, plus the ones from while we were... dusty.”
“Oh,” Peter responds. “That will be weird. When?”
“Today, after school. He says it’s mandatory for all returning members who want to rejoin the team.”
Peter and Ned share a curious glance before the former shrugs, and texts Tony that he'll be returning home later than expected.
The day is shitty, that's for sure. Peter sighs as he pushes open the door and is immediately greeted by one face he has not misssed – Flash Thompson.
Betty and Cindy are already there as well, as well as two other students that Peter doesn't recognize. Slowly, the rest of the team files in, Ned and MJ being the only other Snapped students. Mr. Harrington enters six minutes late. At least some things never change.
“Hello, sorry for the delay,” Mr. Harrington mutters, pushing his glasses up his nose. “We’ll go around and introduce ourselves and then I’ll explain why I brought you all here today.”
“I’m Suzan Yang,” one girl begins, hardly a moment after Mr. Harrington finishes speaking. “I’m the current captain of the Academic Decathlon team.” She shoots an unreadable look to MJ, who levels her gaze with a stony, penetrating glare.
Flash goes next, then a boy named Jason, followed by Brad, Olivia, Nicholas, Stan, and Avery, along with Cindy, Betty, Abe, Ned, and MJ. Peter is grateful that the Snap doesn't get mentioned, and he recites his name with ease when his turn arrives.
All in all, there are six Remained team members and six Snapped team members. There's an invisible barrier between the two teams that makes Peter’s skin crawl.
After Peter finishes, Mr. Harrington hastily interrupts the awkward silence with a throaty cough.
“Well, three students from our team last year have elected not to continue on the team, so we’ll choose three members to be alternates, and then we’ll have our team. In the meantime, I’ve signed us up for a mandatory team bonding session. The destination will be a surprise.”
Mr. Harrington grins, but receives no reaction from his students. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, well, that’s all. This Wednesday after school, we’ll meet in the auditorium.”
A few moments pass, and then, not knowing what else to do, Peter heads out of the classroom, everyone else following. Huh. He's never seen himself to be a trendsetter.
Tuesday ticks by slowly, the teachers dancing around the subject of the Snap. The Common Core curriculum had shifted slightly during the five years, so half of each class is slightly behind the other. Not to mention the new technology, literal element (hexaranium), and literature that the Remained had been able to absorb.
Flash continues to be a dick. Apparently, dying for five years still didn’t bring him to his senses, which is unfortunate for Peter. At lunch, Peter has the pleasure of getting reacquainted with Flash’s fist, so that's a fun treat.
On Wednesday, Peter thinks of little other than the mysterious team bonding activity. He hopes it isn't a hike. That had been the bonding activity last year (six years ago), and Sally ended up spraining her ankle.
... Sally. Where is Sally, and the rest of the Remained AcaDec team?
Finally, the end of Wednesday arrives, and Peter gathers in the auditorium along with the rest of the team.
“Alright, guys, we’re going to walk to the rec center a few blocks away.”
Peter’s spidey-sense tingles a bit, but the feeling is too dull to worry about, so he contents himself with listening to Ned rant about how the Star Wars sequel that had been released during the five years is the worst one yet.
Once they get to the rec center, Mr. Harrington heads to the front desk, the AcaDec team following him like ducklings.
“Hello there, I’m Roger Harrington and I have an appointment with... hold on one moment.” Mr. Harrington fumbles for his phone, where he glances at his reminders. “Okay, with a Mr. Wilson? The appointment is under Roger Harrington. R-O-G -”
“Yes, I’ve got it,” the receptionist responds with a grimace, typing something on his computer. “Ah, yes, a group therapy session with Mr. Wilson at 3:30 PM. He’ll be ready for you shortly. It’s the fourth door to the right, you can wait for him there.”
Peter’s stomach churns. Group therapy? Seriously? This is definitely going to be worse than the hiking trip. At least that had been fun for the first five minutes.
Dragging his feet, Peter follows Mr. Harrington and begrudgingly enters the room. There are fourteen chairs set up in a circle. A bag is draped over one chair (Peter assumes that's where Mr. Wilson plans to sit), and Mr. Harrington plants himself directly across.
Peter, Ned, and MJ select three consecutive chairs in the middle.
In the end, Peter’s AcaDec team is on the left side of Mr. Harrington, with the Others on the right. So much for bonding.
They wait in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, Mr. Harrington checking his watch every couple of seconds. The room is sparsely decorated, save for the circle of folding chairs. Beige paint peels off the walls and a clock by the doorway loudly announces each passing second with a resounding tick.
As Peter begins to grow impatient, a familiar face enters the room, his face painted with apologies, but before he can open his mouth to say any of them, Flash blurts out: “You’re The Falcon.”
The man, Sam Wilson, as Peter mentally fills in for himself, smiles indulgently and nods. “Yes, hello, my name is Sam Wilson, but you may know me as The Falcon. I’ll be conducting your group therapy session today.”
Mr. Harrington’s jaw physically drops and he looks up at Sam with a mixture of shock, admiration, and fear.
While Sam removes his bag and makes himself as comfortable as one can be in a plastic folding chair, Peter’s mind is running a mile a minute. What if Sam recognizes his voice? Or his mannerisms? The team knows that Spider-Man had saved Tony’s life, obviously, but they don't know who exactly Spider-Man is, and Peter wants to keep it that way. More important, his Academic Decathlon team does not know who Peter is.
“So, let’s start with introductions,” Sam says eventually. “How about you all go around the room, tell me your name and one fun fact about you. If you’re comfortable, you can share if you were one of the Snapped. I’ll go first. As I said, my name is Sam Wilson, you can call me Sam, and a fun fact about me is that I have a small fishing business with my sister back in Louisiana. I was Snapped, as you may know.” Sam smiles and glances to his right, where Flash sits.
“Uh, wow, first of all, Mr. Wilson – Sam – can I just say, it’s an honor to meet you.” Sam nods encouragingly and motions for Flash to continue. “Right, right, so, I’m Flash, Flash Thompson, a fun fact about me is that I’m really good at, uh, parkour -” (this is most certainly false) “ - and also I’m a really big fan! Oh, and I was one of the Snapped.”
Sam gestures to MJ, who sits next to Flash (or, rather, Flash had sat next to her in order to be beside to the leader of the therapy session, like the utter kiss-ass he is.)
“I’m Michelle. Fun fact: my last name is Jones.”
There's a moment of silence, until Sam realizes that that's all MJ plans on sharing. “Alright, great to meet you, Michelle.”
“H-Hi, I’m Peter? And a fun fact about me is that I speak five languages.”
“Wow!” Sam replies, his eyebrows raised. “Do you mind me asking what languages?”
“Sure, uh, English, Italian, Russian, Spanish for school, and Hebrew.”
“That’s awesome. I only speak English. A bunch of people on the team speak Russian, so I’ve been meaning to learn it for a while because they’re real assholes about it, but it’s really damn hard, so kudos to you, Peter.”
“Thanks,” Peter whispers shyly.
“I’m Ned Leeds,” Ned says, much louder than necessary, practically vibrating with excitement. “A fun fact about me is that I once hacked -” Peter can see where this was going, so he jabs his elbow into Ned’s ribs and shoots his friend a meaningful look. “ - oh. Uh. I once hacked... something.”
Sam cocks his head to the side in confusion, but nods encouragingly.
“Yeah. That’s it. And I was one of the Sn-” Ned shoots a quick look at Peter. “One of the Disappeared.”
Cindy goes next, followed by Betty, Mr. Harrington, and the Others. Maybe the whole purpose of this is so that Peter won't see them as ‘the Others,’ but he really can't give a shit right now. All of his energy is focused on preserving his most important secret.
Once everyone has introduced themselves, Sam starts to speak.
“So, from what I heard from your teacher, you are on an Academic Decathlon team, and you’re looking to unite after the Snap -” (Peter clenches his chair) “ - and I’m hoping to help with that.” Sam gives everyone an encouraging, lopsided grin. “So, we’re going to do some trust activities. Before we start, is there anything anyone would like to say?”
Peter knows that that question is always asked purely out of politeness, and no one ever answers it, so he starts bracing himself to attempt to trust people he's met only once before, when he struggles to trust even those closest to him.
Flash’s voice jolts him out of his thoughts.
“Hi, Flash Thompson again, I was just wondering if you knew a bit about what happens in Avengers Tower? You know, the tower you live in?”
Sam raises an eyebrow. Wow, Flash has already managed to piss off Sam Wilson, one of the nicest people on the planet. Congratu-fucking-lations.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Uh-huh. So, you would know if Stark Industries had any high school interns, right?”
“No, I’m sorry, I’m not involved with Tony’s business. But it looks like there’s something here that we should talk about. Flash, do you mind telling me a bit more?”
“Sure thing, Sam. It’s just that I don’t think I’ll really be able to fully trust a liar, you know?” Sam doesn't respond, his eyebrow remaining in its raised position. “Right, so, Peter Parker over there. He keeps bragging and pretending that he’s got this Stark internship. Mainly before the whole... but he still, uh, still does. Does say he has it. And I just don’t think it’s fair to actual Stark interns, for him to pretend like that.”
Sam nods, trying to appear as nonpartisan as possible, but Peter can tell that he's unconvinced by Flash.
“Peter, how would you like to respond?”
Ned interrupts. “Mr. Sam Wilson, The Falcon, Sir, if I may, Peter actually does have an internship.”
“Yeah, right,” Flash snorts. “SI doesn’t take high-schoolers. And even if they did, they wouldn’t take Park -” Flash trails off as Sam gives him an angry glare.
“Don’t put your teammates down, Flash,” Sam says angrily. “Even if Peter doesn’t have an internship, that’s no excuse for talking about him like that.”
“Yes, sir,” Flash says, faux guiltily.
“Now, Peter, I’d like you to tell me your side of the story.”
Peter clears his throat and started to fidget, staring down at his shoes. “Well, Mr. Wilson, there’s really not much to tell. I have an internship. I do internship-y things.”
“Alright. I’m sure this can be solved easily, Peter, do you have an access card?”
Um. No, he doesn't, because he lives at the Tower and it would be ridiculous to have to scan an access card every time he wants to return home.
Sam understands what his silence says, and Flash smirks triumphantly. “Well, I don’t know much about the internship program,” Sam continues, not unkindly, “But I do know that all interns have to have an access card, or else FRIDAY, that’s the tower’s AI, won’t let them in. Do you want to confess anything, Peter? This is a no-judgement zone.”
Peter bites his lip. “Okay. I guess I don’t have an internship at Stark Industries, then.”
MJ suppresses a snort at Peter’s phrasing, and Ned openly gapes at him.
“I knew it!” Flash shouts. “I knew you were a -” Flash is once again cut off by Sam’s angry glare.
“An important part of being a cohesive team is trust,” Sam says. “Peter, can you explain why you told everyone that you interned at Stark Industries?”
Hm. What should he say? He really doesn't want to play the Ben card, but he knows that that’s why all of the asshole teachers let him ‘continue to lie.’ They must think it's some sort of coping mechanism.
Hating himself as he speaks, Peter mutters, “It’s... my Uncle Ben died a little while ago, and he was a really big fan of Tony Stark. I guess it just makes me feel closer to him.”
Peter can see from Sam’s eyes that he smells the bullshit.
“I see,” Sam responds carefully. “Hey, how about this? I know that we all cope in different ways, and I hate to have interrupted your grief process. So how about I call Tony now? You can meet him in person? How does that sound?”
That sounds absolutely terrible, actually. “O-Oh, it’s okay,” Peter says. Then, grasping at straws, “You know, it’s kind of embarrassing... I’d really rather not...”
Sam puts away his phone, then stares into Peter’s eyes. “You know, something about you is really familiar. Have we met?”
“Nope!” Peter yelps frantically. “Nope, we – never met. Nope.”
Suddenly, Sam’s eyes widen, and a grin overtakes his face as he snaps his finger in understanding “You’re Tony’s kid!”
A strangled noise escapes from Peter’s throat. His skin starts to crawl, and the burning sensation soon follows. He scratches at the flesh, crying out in pain, but soon the rec center blurs away to the dreary Doughnut Ship, and Peter is right back on Titan.
(Peter!)
Tony’s horrified eyes, bending over him, his mouth saying “I don’t want to go.”
(Can you hear me?)
The ground beneath him is giving way but he's the one giving way and he's somewhere else and he's dust and everything is gone and it's been five years and -
(You’re in the rec center, Peter.)
Wait.
Peter clings to the distant voice, begins to hear the familiar thumping of Ned’s heartbeat, then MJ’s, and he blearily blinks into consciousness.
That was fucking embarrassing.
Peter finds himself drenched in sweat, clinging to the wall, panting heavily, a concerned Sam Wilson, Mr. Harrington, Ned, and even MJ peering worriedly at him.
“Sorry,” Peter mumbles. “Just - sorry, it’s dumb, the... you snapped.”
A look of understanding, and then sheepishness crosses Sam’s face. “Kid... I’m sorry. Can I help you back to your seat?”
Glancing over at the circle of chairs, Peter finds everyone else to still be seated, watching him with a mixture of curiosity, wonder, and anxiety.
“I - I think I’ve got it. Thanks.”
Unfortunately, Peter does not, in fact, ‘got it.’ The weightless feeling feels foreign once more, and as Peter takes a step, his sense of balance is instantly fucked, and he falls over, Sam thankfully catching him.
“Let me help you out, bud.”
Sighing, Peter takes hold of Sam’s arm, and lets his entire body fall against the vet.
“Yeah, uh, I’m going to need some more help.”
It's a bit difficult, but Sam eventually helps Peter to his chair, and the entire team watches on, interested in Sam’s previous comment.
Once it's all sorted out, Sam claps his hands together to break the thick silence. “So...” He began. “I’m sorry about that, Peter.”
“It’s - it’s really fine,” Peter responds, leaning on Ned.
“Well, I guess I should elaborate, then. The way I know you, Peter, is because you’re the reason that we’re all... returned.”
“What?” Peter asks, utterly bewildered.
“I - I’m sorry, is it a different Peter Parker? Tony’s personal intern.”
“No - yeah, that’s me. Just – what do you mean I’m the reason everyone’s back?”
“Oh. Well, Steve told me that Tony wasn’t going to participate in the time – in the, uh, plan to save everyone,” Sam amends, with a quick glance around the room. “Then, he told the team that he would help. For you. For his personal intern, Peter Parker.”
You could hear a pin drop. They do, actually, hear a pin drop. Betty’s barrette falls out of her shiny blonde hair, and the clink of the metal against the tile echoes throughout the room. She hastily picks it back up and refastens it in her silky hair.
When Peter doesn't respond, Sam continues. “Flash, how about you apologize to Peter?”
Flash’s face is molded into an intense look of pure shock, and Peter is worried that the boy is frozen in it, until he speaks a few moments later.
“Sorry for not believing you about the internship,” Flash mutters, his face returning to its resting cocky demeanor. “How’d you even get it, anyway?”
“Um. September Institute.”
The left side of Mr. Harrington, minus Peter, Ned, and MJ, collectively groan. Although Peter is pretty sure Cindy and Betty, as well as everyone other than Flash from his AcaDec team, had believed him about the internship, he also knows that they all understand that he didn't receive it from the September Institute.
“Well, Peter, the team’s been itching to meet you. Second only to Spider-” Sam trails off and glances at the cracks in the wall from where Peter had clutched it during his flashback. “Um. If you’ll excuse me for one second. I... need to use the bathroom.”
Sam pulls out his phone and practically bursts through the door, the creaky hinges announcing his departure as they swing back and forth, squeaking uncomfortably all the while.
“So,” Suzan begins. “You really work with Tony Stark?”
“I guess...” Peter replies. “Not really anymore, though. We kind of just hang out. But we’ll work some more soon, I think?”
“What’s he like?” Comes another Remained team member, Olivia.
And for the next ten minutes, the conversation progresses like that; the two teams speaking together for the first time. Peter hears Sam’s heartbeat come closer, but the man must be listening to the united conversation, because he remains behind the door for a few minutes, until it hits a lull.
“Hey guys, sorry about that,” Sam says, staring at Peter as if he were seeing him for the first time. Which. He kind of is. Jolting himself out of a train of thought, Sam shakes his head harshly. “Alright, that was a pretty interesting revelation. But we’re going to get to those trust exercises now, yeah?”
The team nods in vague acknowledgement. They don't want to do trust exercises, even if they are The Falcon’s trust exercises. They want to hear about Tony Stark.
As if sensing this, Sam adds, “The Avengers use these, sometimes.” Sam winks at Peter, and Peter inwardly says, ah, fuck, because his secret is definitely out.
The first activity is trust falls. One member from the Snapped team would be blindfolded and then fall into one member of the Vanished team’s open arms, then vice-versa. Peter still doesn't trust any of these people that he had literally met a few days ago, so he relies on his spidey-sense, which assures him that there is no danger.
Once everyone has both caught and fallen into someone, they move onto some sort of drawing exercise. Peter enjoys this one. Each Remained student looks at some obscure drawing, and they have to dictate to their Snapped teammate what the drawing looks like. The latter then has to sketch it to the best of their ability. Peter really enjoys art, so he has a decent, dare he even say good, time during this one.
In the end, MJ and Avery win, which doesn't come as a surprise to anyone who knows MJ.
Sam is about to proceed to the next team building activity when several guests appear in the doorway.
These guests are: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, and Natasha Romanov.
Nobody breathes.
“Um.” Sam finally says. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”
“We wanted to meet the kid,” Natasha replies coolly, swaggering over to where Peter is sitting and squatting down to meet his eye level. “Hey, kid.”
“Uh. Hey?”
Bucky is the next to greet Peter, extending his metal arm. “I don’t let most people touch this thing, but I know you’re a fan of it.”
Peter cocks his head in confusion before the subtext of the statement hits him like a ton of bricks. Natasha smirks at his expression.
“Y-Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” Peter glares at Sam, who massages his forehead apologetically.
“Alright, you met the kid who saved the world by being Tony’s kid and that’s all, now you can all go, and stop interrupting this therapy session.”
Steve doesn't seem to get the memo. He extends his hand, and Peter takes it shakily, using a bit of his enhanced strength to match Steve’s.
“Nice grip you’ve got there, son,” Steve says. “But I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Peter laughs awkwardly. “Y-Yeah...”
“I wanted to thank you. That was some real quick thinking out on the battlefield.”
“Pshhhh,” Peter stammers, not at all convincingly. “Battlefield? I – I'm just Peter Parker. The nerd. I have never been on single battlefield in my entire life.”
Steve seems to be genuinely lost. “I thought that you were the Spider-Man?”
A cross between a groan and a whine escapes from Peter’s lips. Sam sighs heavily, setting his head in his hands, Natasha appears to be enjoying the show, Bucky glares at Steve with fond annoyance, and Steve still doesn't understand what he'd done wrong.
The silence remains for over a minute.
Peter’s teammates are in a state of pure shock. They periodically glance between Peter and the Avengers, seemingly picturing them battling alongside each other.
Eventually, Sam says, “Tony’s going to kill us,” at the same time Ned blurts out, “Mr. Captain America and Mr. Winter Soldier Sirs, are you two in a relationship?”
Peter yeets himself out the window.