Bird's-Eye View

by Kuroi_Tanken

Summary:

This series of outtakes follows after the events of Fly on the Wall, and features a series of stories centered around Peter's reintroduction to society, as well as Tony Stark's.

Notes:

Hello everyone! It's been a couple months, and the original Fly on the Wall one-shot has received more love than I expected! Thank you to everyone who read it and nominated it for the Ironed Creator Awards 2023! I sort of tentatively promised a sequel, so I wanted to finally drop some of what I've been working on! This will be a series of chapters centered around Peter's reintroduction into society. The entire story has been planned out, so it will definitely be complete sometime soon! Please leave comments, and I hope you enjoy this follow-up!

Chapter 1

Pepper Potts hadn’t stuck around long enough to become Pepper Potts-Stark because she was a pushover. She had put up with Tony’s general unpredictability and bad luck for years as a PA which was insanely impressive, and she had weathered the burdens of his superhero persona as both a CEO and a romantic partner for even longer, which was, in Tony’s personal opinion, frankly absurd. Long story short, she had nerves of steel and a decisive personality. That’s why he really should have predicted that her reaction to his sudden appearance with a mysterious mournful boy via magic portal would not be met with fluttering tearful proclamations, but instead with hundreds of pounds of arc reactor imbued nanotechnology and threats. Alas, he was a bit preoccupied with the traumatized, slightly disbelieving teenaged son that he had gainfully acquired, which unfortunately meant logical consequence had taken a backseat in his mind.

 

His next mistake was inaction. One single battle that ended in his almost death was not enough practice to wipe the rust from his reflexes, or he otherwise would have tried to de-escalate the situation from the very start. But perhaps no amount of battle training would have been able to prepare him for this moment. He didn’t see an enemy when he looked at her; he saw his beautiful, long-suffering wife, who he had laid eyes on only a month prior in his perspective, whereas she had likely resolutely missed his presence for over a year. Meeting her furious gaze now was heart-wrenching, nostalgic, and bittersweet all at once. With everything that he was feeling and thinking trapped in a loop in his overactive mind, he couldn’t manage to fumble out a single word of assurance or diffusion before she began threatening him. My red-headed Pepper. I couldn’t think about it too hard in the midst of helping Peter, but by God have I missed everything about you.

 

“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?” she growled, pointing the repulsor glove of her Rescue suit directly at his face. I even missed your protective threats.

 

Missing her didn’t mean he wasn’t a little bit nervous, of course. In her view, a doppelganger of her dead, mourned, (very super) husband and an awkward young adult had just plopped into the living space of her highly secured lake cabin, home to the most successful CEO in the world, while their innocent daughter lay hidden somewhere nearby. The more he processed the facts, actually, the more it was starting to look like this was one of his more severe lapses in judgement, almost up there with telling terrorists his address and giving his aggrieved girlfriend a giant stuffed bunny for Christmas. He couldn’t even put this on untreated and unacknowledged PTSD this time.

 

For his own sanity, he was going to blame the Wizard of Oz for this, even though the frustrating man in question had haughtily disappeared with his sling ring as soon as he had dropped them off. Bastard.

 

“Now Pep,” he began anxiously, ever the fast talker. “I’m sure you saw all the sparkling lights. That was very signature ‘Bleecker Street Magician,’ so you can’t quite blame me for this sudden entrance. I see, though, how our sudden appearance in the middle of the kitchen would make you freak out.” Pepper was staring at him with a mixture of disbelief, raw fear, anger, and the slightest hint of hope, threading bravely through all the negative emotions to find a tentative home in her expressive eyes. Am I losing her? Am I gaining her? “But honey, you know if you freak out then I’ll freak out, and then the kid will freak out, which will make me spiral even more and honestly since I just got resurrected into this weird magic astral-formed body, I’m not sure how well I would take it. But anyways, ta-da! I’m back.”

 

Peter, looking uncertain but tensed with readiness to defend Tony, if need be, darted his wide eyes back and forth between them, slowly nodding along with the nonsense Tony was spewing. It likely wasn’t the best time to find it adorable, but Tony felt his heart warm in spite of himself at the genuine care the otherwise skittish kid was showing to him. If you haven’t noticed Pep, I also came back with a broken, but slowly mending, son. He shifted his stance, so that he stood partially in front of him, never wiping the slight smile from his lips as he gazed at Pepper. No matter how much he longed for a reunion with her, he also wouldn’t hesitate to defend his kid. He had taken enough blows when he wasn’t around to protect him; the least he could do was face down his own technology, even wielded by his wife.

 

For a moment there was nothing but heavy breathing heard in the room as she blinked at him, appearing to process and partially dismiss his words in equal measure at lightning speed. “…FRIDAY?” she finally said in a measured tone, still keeping her gauntlet fixed on his chest, but stopping herself from firing it just yet. Given the circumstances, he considered that a win. “Don’t lift lockdown protocol yet, but could you please run an identity check on the men standing in front of me? I…I think I might be hallucinating.”

 

Tony kept his hands up as he rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath so quietly that likely only Peter could pick up what he was saying. “Why is that everyone’s first thought when they see me? I know I’m too good to be true, but damn, this is beginning to feel a little insulting.”

 

When he felt more than heard Peter huff out a breath of laughter behind his back, he knew his comment had done its job. I’ll make you smile for as long as I can, kiddo. No more lonely pain for you.

 

FRIDAY’s automated voice interrupted them then, and Tony had to press his lips together to prevent himself from falling too deeply into a lost feeling of home. He had never really thought he would hear his creation again.

 

“One intruder unregistered in any known public database. Standby for emergency protocols pending the completion of this report. Next intruder identified via biometrics as…” FRIDAY waited for an uncharacteristic beat of silence, likely buffering due to conflicting information. He had never really designed her algorithm to process the undead, an oversight on his part.

 

“Identity read as Anthony Edward Stark, born May 29, 1970, deceased October 10, 2023.” The lights above them flickered in a hint of FRIDAY’s distress. “I apologize, Lady Boss. My servers show no feasible way in which Boss could be here and have his death be true.” The confusion was clear in her tone, more life-like than he remembered. His AI, built to learn and grow beyond him, had continued to advance even after his departure into the Soul Stone’s realm. His pride for her was as rich and bitter as dark chocolate. You’re growing to be just as intelligent as JARVIS.

 

 “Running a more comprehensive diagnostic now.” From above, an almost imperceptible beam of blue light descended, part of his long-forgotten safety protocols that he had implemented in one of the many sleepless and stressed nights he experienced after Morgan was born. Briefly, he considered the possibility that this new body was too different from his old one to hold up against the scanning capabilities of a gadget that, though an afterthought, likely had impeccable craftsmanship. He paused, along with Pepper, he noted, with bated breath. When he almost couldn’t take the tension anymore, FRIDAY’s Irish lilt returned, markedly more cheerful.

 

“Confirmed as Anthony Edward Stark. Life functions optimal. Resetting biographical data. Welcome back, Boss! What would you like me to do about the unidentified intruder? Activate ‘Nightlights Keep the Monsters Away’ Protocol?”

 

Tony’s grin, which had crept up slowly and wonderfully as FRIDAY confirmed that his new body really held the same identity as the soul who inhabited it, dropped immediately when he heard the protocol name. Another one of my late-night overactive security measures. He blanched at the thought of his concentrated repulsor beams hitting his kid, still stiff behind him.

 

“No, no, no, override code 1138-327. Enter normal standby mode,” he rushed out, hoping to avoid all the overeager security protocols he had in place, many of which he had completely forgotten. Let there be no more accidents today.“Jesus Christ, FRI, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

 

“My apologies, Boss.”

 

The use of the code known only to him and his affectionate nickname for his AI, more than anything, made some of the doubt finally slide away from Pepper’s eyes, giving way to pained relief and tears. She seemed to forget everything else but him. The nano gauntlet slowly crawled away from her arms, until it wrapped back into her wristwatch. There we go. That’s the reaction I was waiting for.

 

“What, are those a few tears for your long-lost husband?” He said softly, slowly reaching his arms out towards her.

 

Her lower lip wobbled, the unfazed CEO disappearing before his eyes. “Oh my God,” she whimpered, taking a hesitant step towards him. “Tony, is that…is that really you? Not…not some biological super bot out for revenge?”

 

He extended his arms further, lightly stroking her fuzzy sweater sleeves from shoulder to elbow, then back again. “Even if someone could have made a perfect genetic clone of me,” he murmured, “there’s no way they’d be able to shave the shape of my goatee just right. Even the wizard had a special kit. Look at this line work. This took years of meticulous practice.” He dropped the joking tone from his voice, gazing at her seriously. “It’s really me, Pep. The one and only Tony Stark.”

 

Pepper gave in then, closing the remaining distance between them to crash against his chest with a slight oomf!, crying in earnest now as she grasped him tightly. “These are tears of joy,” she huffed out, finishing off the old line. “I hate husband-hunting.” He tightened his grip on her, his second all-encompassing hug in as many days.

 

“We’re lucky,” he whispered, subverting the nostalgic routine. He thought that this version might be even better. “Grieving time is over. And I’m back.”

 

He could feel the wetness of her elation and sorrow soaking his neck and the collar of his salvaged suit, but he wouldn’t have moved her away from him for all the cheeseburgers in the world. “Tony,” she croaked out in agony. “Tony…I know I told you to rest. And I tried to mean it. But you never listened to me before. I thought that maybe…maybe you’d have woken up. But you never did.” And then she was breaking down in earnest, shuddering sobs from a woman who never let herself break.

 

He hushed her soothingly, feeling responding tears slide down his cheeks silently as he tucked his face into her hair. “You’re right, I’m always defying you. It took me a little longer this time, and I needed some help from a spiderling, but I woke up eventually honey.” And this time, I’m staying. For him, for little Morgan, and for you.

 

She pulled back a little to look at his face again, searching every line, stray hair, and weathered feature, committing it to memory. “You look younger,” she declared, cheeks red with emotion.

 

“I decided if I was going to come back, I might as well come back in style. I didn’t want to be rude and make you welcome back an old man,” he snarked gently, guiding her back into a hug.

 

He could feel her breath tickle his ear as she let out a choked bark of laughter. “You absolutely silly man. I love you, so much.”

 

He smiled, momentarily relaxed and carefree, and rumbled, from deep within his chest, “I love you too.”

 

He felt her hook her chin on his shoulder, her slight height advantage disappearing as she slumped into him, letting some of her weight settle into his arms. “I have so many questions, and I’m sure all of your answers are going to be as ridiculous as usual. But first,” she said, opening her eyes and locking gazes with a startled Peter Parker, who had remained shrunken back behind Tony. Her position now gave her a clear, unobstructed view. “Who is this boy that you’ve brought along with you?”

 

Tony felt himself flush, ashamed that he had even momentarily forgot Peter amid his touching reunion with Pepper. This is what happens when you get old and sentimental. You start losing time.

 

He gently pushed Pepper back away from him, spinning on his heel to look at Peter, who had been respectfully silent, although bright red and teary-eyed, throughout the entire ordeal.

 

“Sorry kid,” he said, reaching out to grab Peter’s elbow and pull him closer until they stood side by side, Pepper just in front of them. “I gave you quite a show, huh?”

 

He looked up at him, nervously fidgeting with the hem of his graphic tee. This one had the free body diagram of a wheel on a slope, with the words ‘That’s how I roll,’ emblazoned on the top. God, I love this kid. “Well, it wasn’t that much of a show, Mr. Stark. You, Iron Man, just hugged your wife, Pepper Potts, voted one of Time’s most influential people in the world, after coming back from the dead. Pretty reasonably average to me.”

 

Smartass. Honestly, he’s lucky I didn’t start kissing her. I wouldn’t have stopped until he really saw more than he probably wanted to.

 

“Oh is that all? Still, not quite the image of the great and stoic Tony Stark, was it?” he volleyed back.

 

Peter gave him a small smirk. “I haven’t thought you were the great and stoic Tony Stark in ages.”

 

Tony faux-gasped, grabbing at his chest. “What gave it away? Was it when I was disrespected by the loyal cape? I knew that would damage my street cred.”

 

“No,” Peter replied, fully smiling now, his shoulders losing a bit of tension. “It was when…when Aunt May,” his smile dimmed for a second before he pushed forward, “when she yelled at you for me being Spider-Man and you stammered like a toddler.”

 

He resisted the urge to coddle him, knowing instinctively that mentioning her without prompting was an important stage in Peter’s grieving process. I know it still hurts Peter. But I’m proud of you for saying her name anyways.

 

“Hey,” he said warningly instead, playfully catching Peter’s head in a headlock. “I stammered like an intelligent adult man who values his livelihood.”

 

“Sure you did,” he snorted.

 

Before he could bite back, a throat clearing had him snapping his head up.

 

“Boys,” called Pepper, looking equal parts amused and incredibly surprised. He supposed that was fair; he was being unusually physically affectionate with what, to her, was a total stranger, and he had also completely ignored her earlier question.

 

“Sorry Pep,” he immediately said, lowering his arm so that it rested lightly on Peter’s shoulders rather than wrapped around his head. “I shouldn’t have ignored you.”

 

She waved her hand dismissively. “Forget about that. Did he just say that he’s Spider-Man? The Spider-Man who allegedly used all our drones to target London? He’s just a kid! Where did you even find him, Tony?”

 

Peter flinched slightly, but Tony only held onto him tighter, rubbing his shoulder in a soothing manner. Well, might as well rip off the band-aid. “Ok, yes, he’s Spider-Man, and the drones’ thing has a completely valid explanation that we’ll get to later, but that’s not the important part!” He felt Peter perk up at the words, which tugged at his heart. Yes, bambino, Peter Parker is more important to me than Spider-Man. “This isn’t just any kid. He’s my kid. Hopefully ours after we straighten a few things out.” Peter squeaked a bit in surprise.  

 

Pepper gaped at him, eyebrows blown up wide in disbelief, disappearing beneath her bangs.

 

“Don’t say I’m not a classy house guest,” he chattered nervously, after the silence extended past a reasonable point. “Most people bring something boring, like candles. I brought a son home!”

 

Peter took this opportunity to interject, turning bright red in the meantime. “Mr. Stark, that’s not really—um, Miss Potts, I mean Mrs. Potts-Stark? Hi. I’m sorry for uh barging into your reunion with Mr. Stark, and also for him blindsiding you with whatever that speech was…I don’t think he practiced that at all, it kind of reminds me of those old clips of the original Iron Man press conference…”

 

“Hey,” Tony warned, cutting off the kid’s amusing ramble.

 

“It’s not like I’m wrong, Mr. Stark, that was a totally weird way to handle this!” Peter protested, gesturing emphatically like an overexcited puppy. Even though it was at his expense, Tony was glad to see him peak his head out from his protective shell in front of Pepper, even a little. “Oh um, anyways, back to what I was saying Mrs.Potts-Stark.”

 

“Pepper,” she interrupted, still looking shocked. However, it was also now tempered with a faint fondness, a likely side effect of interacting with Peter for longer than a few minutes. Even when rambling and pained, he was an endearing kid.

 

Peter wrung his hands together, dipping his head in acknowledgement of her gentle correction. “Right. Pepper.” Does he call everyone but me by their first names? “Uh, I’ll just introduce myself? You know I’m Spider-Man already, but my name is Peter. Peter Parker. And I’m here with Mr. Stark because—”

 

“Because I love him, he saved me, and he needs a place to stay,” Tony interjected before Peter could say something self-deprecating enough to downplay his importance to Tony’s life. Never again would he leave Peter out in the cold, emotionally or physically.

 

“Peter Parker,” Pepper parroted, staring at him. “Would you happen to be related to May Parker, Happy’s ex-girlfriend?”

 

Tony felt his heart stutter. So she remembered May at least. He glanced over at Peter, still tucked into his side, who now had his head tilted down in remembered grief. “Yeah,” he said softly, sorrow lacing every syllable. “She was my aunt.”

 

At this, Pepper sighed and made her way back over to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine and a glass to pour herself a drink. “So, something mystical and magical has obviously happened for my recently deceased husband to turn up with a son so intricately connected to us that I should clearly know him, but I simply don’t. I’m going to sit on the couch and appreciate this vintage bottle, and you two are going to sit next to me and explain what the hell is happening. Alright?” Her raised brow and the softly spinning glass enlaced in her fingertips made it very apparent that the only appropriate response to that statement was yes.

 

Tony and Peter were very bright men with strong women entrenched in their lives. They nodded simultaneously and made their way to the couch.

 

“So,” Tony started, noting Peter’s hesitancy, “this is really a dual part story.” He slouched to get comfortable, knowing that even with Pepper’s sharp mind, telling this story with enough detail to be believable and accepted was going to take a while. “For Peter, it starts with a pair of glasses, the one-eyed pirate, and eventually a wizard. For me, it starts with orange marmalade in the afterlife…”

 

By the time Tony was finished, with minute corrections from Peter when necessary, he felt absolutely drained. Despite his flippant tone throughout most of the retelling, and the laughs he had managed to eke out of Peter while relating his more absurd interactions with the Soul Stone and Strange, his inner monologue was panicked and wary. Reliving the uniquely heart-wrenching experience of following Peter as a ghost and being unable to hold him or help him for weekseven as Peter lived under the most incredible burden he had ever heard of was a sharp, painful experience. He knew he would likely have to repeat the story a few more times before he could sort everything out, and he found that he had never looked forward to anything less. As he looked into Pepper’s guarded expression, he felt himself piling up all the weary aches and grounding love that he held in his heart and pushing them into his eyes. She was one of the few constants in his life, and an integral part of his tentative plan to right Peter’s course. He needed her to understand, after she was through absorbing it all.

 

“I know it sounds fantastical,” he finished, “but it’s the Thor’s honest truth. I could even get the magician to confirm it, if you want.”

 

“Sorcerer, technically. Or Master of the Mystic Arts.” Peter cut in weakly, also emotionally battered from the retelling of all his misfortunes but trying his hardest to keep it together and pretend nothing was wrong. Kid, that’s one bad habit of mine that we’ll have to break. You don’t always need to be strong.

 

“Gesundheit,” he smirked instead.

 

“Oh, stop,” Pepper said, halting their exchange of snark in its tracks.

 

Ok, this is it, Tony thought. What is she going to say?

 

She said absolutely nothing. Instead, she set down her empty wine glass and skirted past Tony to launch herself at Peter, who caught her hug in surprise. “This is insane. I don’t remember you at all, but I can almost remember the hole you left in Tony’s life after he came back from Titan. Anyone who Tony loves that much is welcome in my house, especially because it looks like you’re the reason I have him back at all.”

 

Peter looked absolutely overwhelmed, shock and hope mixing with grief until it looked like it was taking everything in him not to cry. This time, it looked like these were the happy, or at the very least cathartic, sort of tears.

 

“That’s our house,” Tony said, feeling tears of his own well up in the back of his eyes. Who could blame him? His wife and his lost son were hugging each other right in front of him.

 

“Technically, according to the State of New York, my name is the only one remaining on the deed,” Pepper mumbled, her face still tucked into Peter’s fluffy curls.

 

Tony laughed, feeling free. “Guess that means you’re still the boss,” he said, then gathered them both in his arms. Who would have thought, Tony Stark in a group hug with two touch-starved loved ones. He was almost sickeningly fully domesticated. And he had never been as happy. “You know,” he mumbled, spitting out a piece of Pepper’s hair as he stroked Peter’s shoulders, “this would almost be absolutely perfect, if the Little Miss was here. Where is she, by the way?”

 

In the entire time between Pepper pointing a repulsor at them and finishing their long-winded explanation of how they got here, there hadn’t been the slightest hint that his inquisitive daughter was even in the house.

 

Pepper pulled back from the hug a little, enough to make eye contact with him while Peter remained tucked into his chest. “She’s with Rhodey for the day. I think he planned to go to an amusement park and a children’s museum in the city. If she had been here when you two popped in, I probably would have shot first and asked questions later.”

 

God, he loved her.

 

“Terrifying proclamation aside, that’s great!” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Ask them both to come back; I don’t want to go a moment longer without seeing them.”

 

“Actually Boss,” FRIDAY called, her voice causing him to jerk back in surprise. “Colonel James Rhodes was alerted of a security breach one hour ago, and immediately turned his vehicle around. Although I sent him the all-clear fifteen minutes after the initial signal was sent, my trackers confirm that both the young Boss and Rhodes are en route with no signs of diverting from their path.”

 

Pepper widened her eyes and withdrew from the hug completely, rising from the couch to stand. Tony and Peter followed her, albeit slowly. “When can we expect them to arrive, FRIDAY?”

 

“ETA is approximately five minutes,” she responded a bit cheekily.

 

Thanks for giving us advance notice, FRI. Right after I mentally complimented you too.

 

“Well,” Tony slapped his hands together and rubbed them in preparation. “A rogue Maguna and a Honeybear are on their way! Let’s get situated.”

 

“Oh boy,” Pepper sighed, getting up clear out the table.

 

“Mr. Stark, are you going to do another dramatic entrance? It almost didn’t go so well this time…” Peter questioned hesitantly.

 

Tony let out a sly half grin. “It’s not really an entrance since I’m already in the building, kid. C’mon, this’ll be great.”

 

Tony didn’t know if the kid eventually agreed just to please him, or if he felt happy to finally, at long last, be included in something familial and reconnect with people he had long thought lost to him. Whatever the reason, a short while later the word “Surprise” was spelled out in thin gossamer webbing from wall to wall, and Tony and Peter were standing shoulder to shoulder in front of it, beaming wide (or smiling nervously, in Peter’s case) in preparation for the camera he had FRIDAY train on the entire group.

 

“Mr. Stark, should I really be front and center here with you?”

 

“Of course, you made the banner. Now hush up kid, they’re coming in. You ever been to a surprise party? You have to keep quiet to build suspense.” Tony clutched him a tiny bit closer in preparation, though, betraying his nervousness with the slight gesture.

 

Before Peter could say anything else, Rhodey and Morgan stormed through the front door as Pepper welcomed them in.

 

“Pepper, are you ok? I received a ping from FRI—” Rhodey suddenly cut himself off, the whirring of his prosthetics silencing as he came to a dead stop just inside of the doorway, staring at the entire spectacle in front of him. Did you catch that look on camera, baby girl? Gold. Behind him, Morgan came skidding to a halt, blinking up at the image of her dad in surprise.

 

“Is this another hologram?” she questioned innocently, hesitantly inching her way forward past her uncle and looking towards her mother. “It’s not Daddy’s birthday or anything, so why are we throwing a surprise party? And who’s that boy?”

 

“Yeah, Pepper,” Rhodey croaked out, “what the he—heck is this?”

 

“Boys, would you care to explain?” Pepper said, the exasperation in her tone undercut by the soft tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched her daughter approach the duo slowly.

 

Tony crouched down, his knees popping a little with age, but he resolutely ignored it as he saw the slowly dawning wonder alight in his daughter’s curious eyes. “I’m not a hologram, Little Miss, or an android, or an AI.”

 

“That sounds like something an AI would say,” she replied suspiciously, coming to a stop just outside of his reach.

 

“Well, that’s because every AI you’ve interacted with, Maguna, has been created by me,” he smiled softly, reaching out a hand. “But could FRIDAY appear in front of you and have a juice pop hidden in their suit pocket?”

 

With a flourish he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the juice pop he had secretly procured from the freezer while Peter had done his best artistic rendition of the word ‘Surprise!’ It was an impulsive move, but that defined most of his life, so he decided to roll with it. It seemed like it had been working out ok thus far.

 

“Is green apple still your favorite?” he asked with trepidation. Please, don’t let me get rejected by my daughter over a juice pop flavor. I don’t think I could emotionally recover for at least five business days.

 

“Green apple was never my favorite,” Morgan said matter-of-factly, and Tony felt his stomach drop into his feet for a moment. Suddenly, however, he was met with an armful of little girl, seven years old and sobbing into his neck even as she grabbed the juice pop out of his hand. “But it doesn’t matter, because you never remembered that. Starting today, it definitely is.”

 

There’s my little girl. “There there, Maguna. It’s alright. Daddy’s home now. I’m a little late, but your old man can be a little slow, can’t he? It’s because my brain is always moving so fast.”

 

“That’s bullshit, Daddy,” she whispered into his neck, gripping him impossibly tighter. Of course you had to say shit again, you little menace. “But I don’t care, because I can feel you. They said you were never coming back. They said you saved the world, but that you had to leave forever to do it.” His daughter was sobbing in earnest now, cries racking her chest as she clutched him, tugging at his hair and his suit jacket in equal measure.

 

For the second time in as many days, Tony felt a tinge of regret. He had never felt uncertain about his drive to save the world, of course, but first with Peter, and now with Morgan, he realized he had never stopped to properly think through just how disaffected his precious, underaged children would feel once he was taken out of the picture. Perhaps it was his lack of self-worth returning once again to bite him in the ass, but he never realized the extent to which people had loved and relied on him until he was nothing but a ghost following a broken boy, watching as mural after mural went up in his name. Even with the death of his parents echoing in his mind, he had never thought about how devastated a five-year-old girl would be, when told that her father had decided to be a superhero before a parent and had left her behind to grow up without him. But he couldn’t evade that observation now.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered gruffly, the apology coming from somewhere deep within his soul. “I’m so sorry I left you behind, sweetie. But I came back. I’ll always defy the odds for my family, alright? I promise.” I promise I’ll never willingly stay away from you again, sweet pea. And there, a tear. He couldn’t help but cry too.

 

Eventually Morgan pulled back from her perch in his neck, taking in his slightly younger face and the embarrassing tears that were adorning his eyes. To his surprise, she was smiling tremulously, the wetness on her cheeks fighting against the joy lighting up her smile. God, I missed so much of your life already. You look older. “You look slightly less old, Daddy,” she said impishly, mirroring his thoughts in the most offensive way possible.

 

He sighed ruefully, shaking his head as he beamed back at her. “And you look slightly more old, Little Miss. Soon I’ll have to start calling you Elderly Miss.”

 

Boom, take that!

 

“And soon I’ll be as tall as you, Daddy. Uncle Rhodey says I only need to give it three or four more years.”

 

Morgan H. Stark 1, Tony Stark 0.

 

“I’ve been betrayed!” he gasped out, shooting an accusatory look at Rhodey, who was still staring at him with a dumbfounded expression on his lined and weary face. Life has been a little difficult without my shining resonance, hasn’t it buddy. “Platypus, how could you tell Morgan something so hurtful?”

 

Rhodey raised an eyebrow, his mouth forming the retort automatically even as he stared at Tony in unmitigated awe. “You mean something so true? Honesty is always the best policy with kids that age.”

 

“This is why I call you Sour Patch, you know,” he said, straightening up while carrying Morgan and her juice pop as he did so. “Because your words are bitter and sharp.”

 

“It’s really you, man,” Rhodey muttered, a smile slowly creeping across his face. “You goddamn bastard, it’s really fucking you!”

 

“Language!” Pepper interjected, plucking Morgan from her perch in Tony’s arms, and shaking a useless finger at the two best friends. “I already can’t stop her from saying shit!”

 

Morgan only giggled. “Bastard!”

 

Sorry Pep, that ship has sailed. She’s going to have a worse potty mouth than Clint.

 

“C’mere man,” Rhodey said, dragging Tony into a soul crushing hug. “I can’t believe you survived. I was all stone-faced and grieving at your funeral too. And you still managed to crawl back.” He thumped Tony’s back with every sentence, sending his love reverberating through his chest, unable to say it out loud but feeling it obviously all the same.

 

“Well, you know,” Tony said, “You can never keep a good witch down.”

 

Rhodey pulled back abruptly to stare at him. “Are you quoting Wicked right now?”

 

Tony shrugged, moving backwards a little, the gamut of reunions overwhelming his senses. “I don’t know, I never really got through the whole thing, but the kid went on about musical quotes for so long that I just kind of picked some things up.”

 

At this his friend snapped his head to the side, his military training, thrown out by the sheer surprise of Tony’s presence, kicking back in as he turned to stare at Peter, who had been awkwardly standing in front of the surprise sign the entire time, unable to join the interactions between Tony and his pseudo-brother and little girl, likely feeling left out. I’m sorry, kid. I promise I’m not ignoring you.

 

“Right, speaking of the kid. Who the hell is that, Tony? He seems sort of familiar, but I can’t place him. And furthermore, how the hell are you here? Not that I’m not jazzed to see you,” he said waving his hands dramatically, “but the last time I saw you felt…it felt pretty final.”

 

“Yeah, Daddy,” Morgan said, curiously peering at Peter as she sucked at her juice pop. “Who’s that?”

 

Peter, startled by the sudden attention, sprang up and attached to the ceiling, turning bright red in mortification once he realized that he had garnered the gaping bewilderment of both of the newcomers. “U-um right, um, I’m Peter. Peter Parker. And also, Spider-Man…obviously with the whole webbing…and sticking to the ceiling thing…”

 

It was honestly a wonder that Peter had kept his secret identity as long as he had.

 

“Right!” Tony said, clapping his hands together and interrupting whatever commentary Rhodey was about to unleash in his confusion. “That odd kid perched on my ceiling still for some reason is the one and only Spiderling! And he’s also the reason I am alive and kicking once again to take your insults and your compliments. Come over here, Underoos, you’re getting footprints on the walls.”

 

As Peter jumped down bashfully, and made his way over to Tony, Rhodey began sputtering in disbelief. “That child is Spider-Man? The mysterious vigilante that has never shown his face in public ever? And you know him? And he’s the reason you’re alive?”

 

“Yep, those are all true statements. Really, Rhodeybear, it’s clear why they let you into MIT. Your deductive reasoning is off the charts,” Tony smirked, hooking his arm around Peter for good measure, wanting to make sure the boy felt included, after all he had endured.

 

“That’s so cool!” Morgan blurted out, staring at Peter like he had swung to the cosmos and physically hung the moon and the stars. “Spider-Man is my favorite superhero.”

 

With his free hand, Tony clung to his chest dramatically again, staggering to the side for effect with Peter in tow. “Not Iron Man? Will the betrayals never cease!”

 

“All you have is your suit, Daddy. Spider-Man can do a backflip.” And Morgan shrugged with finality, as if that covered it.

 

She has a bit of a point.

 

Pepper let out a brief chuckle, inclining her head towards the living room. “Let’s all sit down and let Tony and Peter explain what happened, ok? It’s a bit too crazy of a tale to tell while standing by the door, even with the very lovely surprise sign, Peter.”

 

Tony smiled softly at his wife, ever the efficient CEO. “That’s a good idea, honey.”

 

A few minutes later saw the entire makeshift family crowded around the living room table, the soft light of the lamps casting delicate shadows across the faces of Tony’s loved ones, making them all have faint goatees. God, I love them all.  

 

“Alright Tony,” Rhodey said with exasperation, interrupting his reverie. “We’re waiting.” His leg braces whirred as he adjusted his seating to get comfortable. I should probably update those.

 

“Yeah Daddy, I want to hear the story!” Morgan called impatiently, clinging to his right side. Alright, how do I explain this succinctly and appropriately to a seven-year-old girl and my suspicious platypus. A-ha!

 

“Do you remember the best Disney Princess Movie ever, Little Miss?”

 

Morgan blinked her eyes slowly at him. “Do you mean Frozen 3?”

 

Frozen 3? When did that even get released?

 

“No,” Tony said shortly. “No, that is not the best one. Whatever, let’s not argue about this,” he said, erasing her burgeoning pout with a kiss pressed to her forehead.

 

“No, I’m talking about Tangled. Obviously. So, imagine that I’m Flynn Rider in the tower at the end of the story, Thanos is Mother Goethel thrown out the window, and Peter here is Rapunzel, minus all the romantic undertones, and plus the fact that no one knows who Rapunzel really is. Peter used his magic tears of grief, which can be represented by the Soul Stone and his pure energy, to seep into my mortal wounds and pull me out of the soul plane back into the land of the living, after I proved the worthiness of our bond! And then boom, here I am, ready to reclaim my kingdom, get my girl, and cuddle up with the best daughter in the world! Plus, I got to reunite with my trusty stead, Rhodeymus!”

 

After his rather ingenuous allegory, Tony was met with the blank stares of four of his closest companions.

 

Peter cleared his throat first. “Mr. Stark…did you just honestly use Tangled as a metaphor for getting resurrected by the infinity stones after following me around as a ghost for a while?”

 

“He hasn’t changed at all,” Pepper replied with exasperated fondness. Despite her words, she didn’t seem that displeased about it.

 

Morgan nodded in serious contemplation. “Ok, that made perfect sense Daddy.” Score! “Except…does that mean that Peter is a secret princess that fights with a frying pan, and Thanos is his evil stepmother?” Ok, so she didn’t understand it at all.

 

“Tony,” Rhodey said tiredly, “I really did miss you. But you’re going to have to start making sense immediately, before I lose my mind.”

 

“Right,” he sighed, ruffling Peter’s head with his left arm. “Let’s start from the beginning. Peter, Pep, feel free to interrupt me if I miss anything. This story isn’t really mine, in the end. It starts with Peter Parker, the Boy Wonder, living out his senior year in Queens. Oh, I’ve got it! Wonderoos! The story starts with Wonderoos, living out as Spider-Man after one of my former employees lost his damn mind in the most public way possible and decided to target Peter, for no good reason other than extreme pettiness…”

 

By the time Tony had exhausted the topic for the second time that day, he felt emotionally drained, and he could tell by Peter’s wretched face that he felt drained too. Despite his attempts at light-heartedness, the tale, up until his dramatic return, was filled with pain and sorrow, grief permeating every single action and reaction that took place by both parties up until the reunions they were undergoing right at this moment.

 

It's Morgan, not Rhodey, who interrupts the silence that follows first, much to Tony’s surprise. “That’s…that’s so…” and suddenly she burst into tears.

 

Peter looked frantic, attempting to calm her down with half-formed apologies and darting eyes, only stopping when Morgan launched herself across Tony’s lap and into Peter’s arms. “You saved my Daddy! I loved Spider-Man before, but you’re even more awesome than he is Peter.” At this, Peter’s drew in a sharp breath, eyes widening impossibly. Internally, Tony smiled. I told you that Peter Parker was more important than Spider-Man, kid.

 

“I’m sorry about your aunt,” Morgan continued, with the matter-of-fact innocence only a precocious child could have. “But we can be your family now, too! I’ve always wanted a big brother. And you’re a super big brother, which is better than all the other big brothers combined.”

 

Tony didn’t think he could describe the look on Peter’s face in the moment. It was almost broken, but not quite sad, filled with fondness, grief, hope, despair, and finally a tentative joy reminiscent of the intense emotion that overtook him on the rooftop, only a couple days before. That’s love, kid, in all its forms.

 

“I’ve always wanted a little sister too,” he croaked out.

 

Rhodey, watching the scene with shrewd eyes and observing the genuine emotion engulfing the entire trio, finally smiled, shaking his head all the while. “You seem like a good kid, Peter, and a self-sacrificing dumbass to boot. That means you’re more than welcome to the family. Thank you, for bringing this idiot home, and for continuing to fight the good fight even after your tragedies. I don’t know why I didn’t help you out the first time, but I’m here for you now. I promise. Scout’s honor, and I was actually a Boy Scout.” He extended his hand to Peter, waiting for him to shake it. Instead, with half on armful of Morgan, sticking to him more firmly than an unenhanced human should, he launched himself forward, giving Rhodey a sloppy hug.

 

“Thank you, Colonel Rhodes War-Machine sir.”

 

The surprise melted off the Colonel’s face in an instant, giving way to a warm fraternal gaze that he must have developed after Morgan had been born. “You can call me Uncle Rhodey, Spider-kid.”

 

“It’s Spider-Man,” Peter sniffled.

 

“He’s right, it’s Spider-Man,” Morgan repeated. That’s going to be adorably annoying.

 

Pepper grasped Tony’s hand, staring at the scene with a soft maternal look that she rarely revealed to all but her closest inner circle. You’re in, kid. Not that I ever doubted it. “This completely unremarkable day has become the best day of my life. I reacquired a husband and got another kid without having to be pregnant again.”

 

Tony laughed, feeling freer than he had in quite some time, even standing on the rooftop of a dingy apartment building in Queens, hanging on with all his might to a broken, loving superchild. “Hey, it’s go big or go home in the Stark household, always. Wonderoos, is there anything else you want to say to the Iron Family?”

 

By this point, Peter had pulled away from Rhodey, though Morgan was still situated snugly in his arms.

 

“The Iron Family? Is that what you’re calling it?” Peter asked dubiously, surreptitiously wiping away his tears. Too late kid, we all saw it. Hell, we’re all crying.

 

Tony shrugged. “What? Everyone here has a variation of an Iron Suit, bar Morgan. I thought it was appropriate.”

 

“It sounds like a Mafia family,” Peter said, mystified.

 

“I want a suit too!” Morgan interjected.

 

Tony marked the glare that Pepper sent him, and pointedly ignored Morgan’s statement, although he sent her a conspirational wink. As if I don’t already have a starter suit made for her in the safe of his lab.

 

“You’re just as weird as I remember Tones,” Rhodey said fondly, lightly punching him in the shoulder.

 

“And proud of it,” Tony shot back.

 

Peter suddenly perked up, snapping a gaze slightly too full of mischief at Tony for him to feel comfortable. “There is actually one thing, Mr. Stark.” And we’re still on the Mr. Stark thing, how about that? “I couldn’t help but notice that your override code earlier was…strikingly familiar. Perhaps related to an endless saga of good and evil spreading across the stars, with light sabers and the force?”

 

Tony dipped his head into his chest, half-smiling all the while. Of course you caught that. “I may have derived the code from Star Wars in your memory, kiddo.” And Tony was sure, once Peter healed properly from his emotional wounds, that he would never hear the end of this for as long as he lived.

 

As it was, Peter flashed a brief megawatt smile in delight before letting it soften into a content expression. No matter how quickly it appeared, Tony stored that expression in his heart, along with the treasured memory of Morgan’s wonder, Rhodey’s surprise, and Pepper’s relief. I won’t let that go kid. I’ll bring that smile back to your face one day. He looked around at his miraculous family, small but filled with love, basking in the miracle they had been afforded. The universe may have paid me back, but it still owes you, Peter Parker. I’ll make sure your life is a happy one.

 

“I knew it, Mr. Stark! I knew you were listening to me that whole time.”

 

“There was no doubt that I was, Peter.” He couldn’t do anything else, really.

 

As the night descended into laughter, soft looks, and genuine amusement, Tony was already cataloguing the night in his memory files, knowing he would look back on the footage FRIDAY captured long after the moment was over. Happiness like this had always been so fleeting, in his first chance at life. For his second one, he wanted to make sure that the joy was deep-seated and rooted in every interaction he had, for the rest of his hopefully long existence.

 

That’s what they all deserved. A gentle story. A gentle life.

Chapter 2

Summary:

Peter begins to process some of the new changes in his life.

Notes:

I am so sorry that this hasn't been updated in two months. Writer's block, other WIPs, super busy schedule, mental health stuff, all the usual kind of prevented me from continuing, but don't worry, I still care about completing this fic! The rest of it is outlined too, it's just a matter of ~writing it~. Regardless, here's another chapter. It's a little angsty, but also fluffy, so I hope y'all enjoy it!

Watching Tony laugh at Rhodey while holding Pepper’s hand, and somehow managing to still ruffle his daughter’s hair, felt to Peter like he was watching a distorted home video, a casual film reel taken during the Blip, when he hadn’t existed and Tony had been, however briefly, happy and domestic. He had never seen this side of the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, before, in his old life in a penthouse in New York City. Looking like he was now, settled on his couch, with a face that, although a bit younger than when had last saw him, was still marked with laugh lines and mild sunspots, he seemed more like a settled suburban dad than a cosmopolitan icon. Despite everything, it was a good look on him.

 

But in the end, it was all still terribly surreal, this moment, or perhaps more accurately every moment since he had woken up to see a phantom in his paltry living room, looking for all the world like a manifestation of his deepest regrets and fondest hopes for acceptance. Tony had been the ghost but sometimes, to Peter, he himself felt less tangible than the mogul had been, afloat in a sea of misery, surrounded for miles and miles and yet completely alone. And still, Tony, genius, hero, miracle, father, had found him and come back to life, and told him that Peter Parker didn’t have to be alone and unknown anymore.

 

He wasn’t sure he deserved it. But if he believed in anything, it was that Tony himself deserved a happy life with his family. So, in a way, he could almost accept what his life had become in the last week and a half, going from absolutely bottom of the barrel to top of the world in an instant, because it had brought him back to the land of the living.

 

Almost.

 

The picture before him, a fully interactive 3D experience of warmth and care, was the heaviest temptation, its mass big enough to nearly pull him into its all-consuming gravitational field. This was all Peter had been yearning for, ever since his world-shattering incident at the Statue of Liberty, or perhaps even before then, when he had to get a suit tailored to attend Tony’s funeral, the dark navy that he had worn at his uncle’s service no longer able to mold to his rapidly growing body. But, but, but. It was always a but, and it was always his, the ass that he makes of himself constantly creating situations that make him get in his own way. This time it was his guilt, insidiously persistent, forming a thin film around his person that kept him just separate enough from the scene in front of him to make it feel like the experience really was nothing more than an immersive optical illusion, more in-depth than anything Beck could have come up with. It was chilling, how close he was to what he wanted, and yet how unsettlingly isolated he was still, locked in his own mind, barricaded against the mundaneness of positive emotions, after he had expelled his more extreme joy when he had first felt Tony grasp his hand. He didn’t really know how to handle levity, or accept it, anymore. Apparently, it only took months of isolation and another tragedy for Peter to forget how cloying happiness sometimes was in the wake of pure, unfiltered grief.  

 

Of course, it made sense that Tony’s family was overflowing with love at the moment. Everyone, in his opinion, should be glad, ecstatic even, that Tony was back. But love directed towards Tony Stark was wholly different from love directed towards Peter Parker. With his enhanced eyesight, he had been able to tell just how sincere Pepper’s gaze had been when she grasped his arms and accepted him into her idyllic family, and he could hear the steady pounding of Rhodey’s heart, betraying his honesty when he thanked him—thanked him!—for bringing Tony back into their lives. When they hugged him, their arms were solid and warm, encircling him with the grace of a close family member. They wanted him to feel welcomed.

 

Never had gratitude and easy acceptance felt like such a burden.

 

Pepper and Rhodey had always felt like distant pillars to Peter, the somewhat intimidating calm and collected pair that balanced out some of Tony’s childish freneticism. Sometimes, in his mind, “Mr. Stark” would become “Tony” or even, occasionally (shamefully) “Dad.” But Pepper had always remained “Ms. Potts,” and Rhodey was “Colonel War Machine James Rhodes, sir” or any variation thereof that Peter’s innate over-politeness could conjure when faced with actually, directly speaking to him, occasions which occurred few and far between. Despite how much he knew they were good people, he didn’t really know them enough to accept their emotional decisions, especially in the immediate aftermath of their reunion with Tony himself. He couldn’t trust them. Otherwise, that would mean that he somehow deserved their warm care, and that was…for anyone other than Tony, who had haunted his every step for weeks and still chose him anyways, uncaring of the wreck he had been, that was a prospect beyond his advanced comprehension.

 

Morgan’s acceptance was even harder to accept, somehow. She was a child, which meant she was honest, and she was a Potts and a Stark, which meant she was brilliant, and so she should have known that her near half-orphanhood was due to Spider-Man himself. He and his dismal handling of the gauntlet in both Thanos confrontations had been partially the reason Tony had snapped in the first place, no matter what he had said during their ghostly talks. And he was almost certainly the reason May was buried six feet underground in a humble grave, lying next to Ben far too soon, another casualty of Peter’s negligent love. Peter’s luck had always been terrible. Any measure of good had grown to be nearly inconceivable in the past few months of disastrous isolation.

 

Really, it was no wonder that Tony’s smiling face and familiar charm, and his family’s gentle comfort, felt more dreamy memory than immediate reality.

 

Is it real? I want it to be real. But I don’t deserve for it to be real. But God. Please. I want it to be real. Before he could descend deeper into his thoughts, consumed by his desperation, pricking his mind with needle-like precision in all his most sensitive spots, he felt a grip on his wrists. Startled, he lifted his gaze from the patch of the ceiling it had settled on, finding Tony’s hand, roughly calloused from years working on machines without gloves, latched on to him. He hadn’t even noticed Tony carefully removing his hand from Pepper’s own and migrating towards him instead, his senses for once silent, as no danger was anywhere to be found here, except for within himself. It was like the man had sensed him spiraling, perhaps worried about his extended quietness. It would seem strange to Tony, Peter noted distantly, for him to suddenly lose his chatterbox tendencies in a place with a receptive audience.

 

Something in his eyes must have convinced Tony that he needed more tactile support, because in the next instant he felt a tug that surprised him enough to fall into it, causing him to half stumble into Tony’s lap before he awkwardly slid towards the ground, now eye level with a standing Morgan, leaning firmly against Tony’s legs.

 

“Woah there, kid, I didn’t mean to pull you that hard,” his mentor/father figure/miracle/Tony said with a quick frown. “Are you alright?” He likely knew that Peter, in his right mind, had the balance of a cat; his clumsiness was a bad sign.

 

“I’m fine,” Peter replied. By the look on Tony’s face, he didn’t believe him. He shouldn’t have. Sitting there, partially arranged over Tony’s legs, he was briefly reminded of the old adage of worshipping at an idol’s feet. It wasn’t a healthy thought in the least, and said something about Peter’s mental state that he was choosing not to examine too closely, but he couldn’t help it, staring into Tony’s concerned brown eyes. Tony wasn’t a god, but at various points in his short life this man had found him, saved him, molded him, cursed him, and then saved him again, returning larger than life and apparently now crafted from pure universal energy. He couldn’t help but admire him. Tony had lifted him up from squalor and offered him his most fervent, shameful dream, all without Peter having to bother to give voice to it. ‘A family’ his heart had called out, and a family is what this wonderful illusion promised him, if he could only learn to accept it. If there was any proof of divinity out there, this had to be something close to it, surely.

 

“Do you want to come back up here and sit on the couch then, kiddo? The ground isn’t really built for sitting,” Tony asked with concern.

 

“No,” Peter said quietly, slumping further into his mentor’s knee, “I’m fine down here.” It reminded him of late-night pillow forts with Ned, or army crawl games with May and Ben when he was still little. And the floor, bracketed in rich carpet, was even more luxurious than the ratty mattress he had been calling a bed. Honestly, this is more than I could have asked for, just this floor, and people who like my presence here. People who aren’t dead.

 

His mind was spiraling, again. It was strange, how quickly he could lose himself in a room filled with more people who knew him than he had seen in months, when he had fervently held it together through countless days of being all alone.

 

The hand that was suddenly thrust on top his head, with a forcibly casual “Pay attention young buck, I’m about to tell you all about Rhodey’s undergraduate adventure to a pickle farm” suddenly pulled Peter’s mind back from the heavens to the earth, grounding him in its firm, but gentle hold. Slow stroking eased Peter further, the little slides over his split ends tugging his consciousness closer and closer to the surface. He was able to register even Rhodey’s brief flash of concern before it was over-ridden with amused indignation, Tony’s bait too tantalizing to ignore.

 

“Hey, hey, don’t go turning my brand-new nephew against me,” Rhodey protested, jabbing a hand upwards, before aggressively pointing his finger accusingly in Tony’s direction.  “That fiasco was, top to bottom, your fault. It’s a wonder you even made it to graduation without burning down the entire school,” he grumbled.

 

“Blasphemy, rumors, and lies,” Tony crowed, settling his hand from Peter’s hair to his shoulder, the other hand tugging Morgan closer until she was tucked between Peter’s side and the couch. I guess he’s using his daughter as an emotional support human. Frustratingly, it worked.

 

Morgan’s small hand gripping his bicep, whispering “Daddy’s even sillier than I remember, isn’t he?” in his ear, while the deep baritone of the two friends bantering back and forth reverberated in his chest, and the huff of air from Pepper’s soft laughter ghosted across his skin, all settled him in their own ways, convincing him more and more with every breath that this picture was all real, and he was, inexplicably, near its center.

 

It felt—almost—like home.

 

The sharp click of the front door lock yanked Peter out of the warm atmosphere he had nearly settled in, bringing him abruptly back to full awareness. His spider senses tingled, not sensing any abject danger, but carrying with it the hint of something to approach cautiously. Of course, that could have just been his stress speaking. But he had learned, after the disaster with Beck, and then with the Goblin, that more often than not his senses were right, even if they were a little too late. He tightened his grip on Tony’s knee in tense anticipation, clasping it so firmly that the man grunted out loud, his attention following Peter’s narrowed gaze to the door.

 

“Who’s at the door, Pete?” he asked, shuffling around in his seat as if he were about to stand and face whatever had Peter so startled.

 

“I don’t know,” Peter replied, his tired ears unable to delineate the stranger’s heartbeat from the rest of the people in the room. Who knew that the Starks even lived here?

 

Surprisingly, despite the tension building in the two, Pepper looked relaxed.  “Boys, if it was actually an intruder, they probably wouldn’t bother to use the front door,” she said with wry amusement. “And FRIDAY would have alerted us.”

 

Rhodey also looked completely casual, his lips ticking up in a teasing grin. “It must be Hogan. I was wondering when he was going to show up. Getting slow in his old age, huh?”

 

Happy?

 

Before Peter could even begin to process the sheer amount of feelings that his name brought up, the memories of countless futile fake voicemails left filtering through his brains, the lock finally turned and the door swung open. Happy barged through, clearly in a hurry and full of anxiety, if his rambling was any indication.

 

“Oh my God, Pepper, are you and Morgan alright? Clearly you’re alright because you’re just sitting there, but was there a situation? Is it handled? I’m so sorry I was late, I was passing by FEAST when I got the alert, just to see how it was going, and then FRIDAY started blaring in my ear piece, which was very nerve-wracking by the way, you know how I get when I hear loud noises, and I started driving up here immediately but the traffic was terrible and…” his run-on sentence petered to an abrupt end, his eyes now firmly locked on Tony, who had settled back down after realizing that it was his best friend, rather than an axe-wielding maniac, that was trying to get into his house.

 

Happy’s brows flickered with stressed grief before his expression settled back to carefully blank. “Dammit,” Happy muttered, running a hand through his hair, “I knew the hotdog I ate today tasted kind of strange. I haven’t had a trip this bad since the 80’s.”

 

“Happy,” Pepper said warningly, flicking her eyes towards Morgan with cool intent.

 

“Sorry, Pepper,” Happy said immediately, rubbing his eyes. “It’s just…I don’t mean to freak you out here, but I think I see Tony sitting on your couch.”

 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “That’s because I am sitting on the couch, Hap. Keep up.”

 

“And now he’s talking to me,” he said in a daze.

 

“Why wouldn’t daddy be talking to you, Uncle Happy?” Morgan asked with amused curiosity, clearly delighting in the confusion she saw on Happy’s face. She gets some of that teasing energy from her dad, no doubt about it.

 

“Why wouldn’t he…because he’s a figment of my imagination?” Happy repeated dumbly.

 

“Although I kind of love the idea of featuring in your dreams, Happy, I’m afraid I am 100% the real deal. Tony Stark, in the flesh,” Tony said with jazz hands, nudging Peter gently to the side so that he could stand fully and walk towards his old bodyguard.

 

“Tony. Alive. Here.” Happy repeated in a deadpan, warily eyeing the man in question as he approached. “And you’re sure he isn’t an alien or a weird wizard thing, or maybe a lizard? Because I’ve met all of those in the last year and it isn’t as crazy as it sounds, ok?”

 

“He isn’t any of those things, Happy, although maybe you and I need to have another debrief,” Rhodey said with pursed lips. “But nope, what you’re looking at is the actual Tony Stark. He recently came back to life.”

 

“Sorry I don’t have a badge to prove it to you, but you know how I hate those things,” Tony added in, coming to a stop right in front of him.

 

After a moment of staring, while Peter held his breath, Happy let out a peal of incredulous laughter. “He just came back to life!” he mouthed, before lunging forward and capturing Tony in a back-breaking hug, bypassing his usual semi-professionalism in the process. “Oh my fucking God, you son of a bitch, you really came back.”

 

“Happy!” Pepper interjected again, before letting out a deep sigh. “I don’t know why I even bother anymore. Morgan is going to have the mouth of a sailor. They’re going to kick her out of her first-grade class, and probably run a story on her too” she muttered under her breath.

 

Rhodey patted her shoulder consolingly while Morgan ran up to the two men, hugging one leg each in a way that almost had them toppling over. “Isn’t this so cool, Uncle Happy? Daddy came back! He was a little late, but he came back! And he brought a present too!”

 

A present? And then, looking at Morgan’s mischievous expression, Peter realized in a flash that the present she was talking about was him. Oh, man.

 

Happy smiled indulgently at Morgan, too overcome with apparent glee to maintain his usual grumpy façade even after almost getting slide tackled by a seven-year-old. In fact, Peter would even dare to say that Happy’s eyes looked misty, which is the most emotion he’s seen from him since…the incident, several months prior. Don’t think about that now, Peter.

 

“Your dad is always late, so this is really nothing new,” Happy said. “And he always comes back with presents. What did he get this time? Another bunny?” he snorted.

 

Tony glared at his old friend, playfully shoving him away. “Relax about the bunny, Hap, it was a brilliant gift.”

 

The unimpressed faces from everybody in the room assured Peter that it was most decidedly not a brilliant gift.

 

Only Morgan was apparently out of the loop. “No, but a bunny would be cool! Gerald could use another friend!”

 

“Absolutely not,” Pepper intoned, glaring at Tony with enough intent to make the billionaire raise his hands in defense.

 

“I didn’t say anything!” he protested.

 

“Anyways,” Morgan chirped happily, ignoring her parent’s exchange with the expert ease of an instigator, “he got me something much cooler than that! Now I have a brother!”

 

“I…wait a second, a brother?” Happy parroted, before darting his eyes back to the mysterious kid he had chosen to ignore in favor of the Tony-sized elephant in the room.

 

“Yep!” Morgan continued before Tony could interrupt, his mouth opening to likely attempt to cushion the news. Too bad his daughter was a bullet train in child form. “His name is Peter, but he’s also Spider-Man, and he’s really cool, and he saved daddy!” Then she happily skipped to where Peter was still sitting on the floor, skidding to a stop right in front of him, her face beaming. “Say hi, Peter!”

 

Peter turned beet red in an instant, as all eyes in the rooms swiveled to focus on him, leaving him completely unprepared. “Uh…hi again, Happy,” he mumbled. “I’m uh Peter. Like Morgan said.”

 

Happy blinked, then blinked again. “You’re the boy from the cemetery, who freaked out last time,” he said plainly. Right, Peter thought, Happy never forgets a face. And he apparently remembered Peter’s panic attack with crystal clear clarity too. Fantastic.

 

“Yeah,” Peter mumbled, casting his eyes downward. “That’s me.” He turned his next words over in his head for a few seconds before continuing, feeling obligated to explain himself somewhat, and also to finally acknowledge all that he had needed to push aside for the last several months. “May was…I didn’t meet her through Spider- Man. I mean I am Spider-Man, like Morgan said. But um. She was actually my aunt. May, that is,” he said nervously, stumbling over his words. Great job, Peter.

 

The room was silent for just a beat too long as everyone paused to let Happy digest what he had just heard, awaiting his reaction. “I feel like I’m missing something here,” he replied, turning his head from Tony to Peter and back again. “Several somethings. I knew May. She…I don’t think she ever mentioned a nephew. Especially a vigilante nephew. And also, not that I’m not ecstatic to see you back, but how are you even alive Tony? Morgan said that that’s this kid’s doing too? What the hel—heck,” Happy amended after a frigid warning glance from Pepper, “is going on?”

 

Peter opened his mouth then closed it again, feeling like a fish out of water in this conversation. No matter how many times they had related the same story, it seemed to get only harder, not easier, with practice. He frankly didn’t even know where to start, and his mounting overload of emotions that inevitably came with any mention of May, or the fact that those that used to be closest to him didn’t know him anymore beyond a passing headline, was constricting his ability to think rationally.

 

Thankfully, Tony looked like he was easily picking up on Peter’s momentary vocal paralysis. “It’s an incredibly long story, more dramatic than all your classy seasons of Downton Abbey, but in short there was magic involved, Peter got forgotten, and I got poofed back into existence.”

 

Ok, maybe Tony wasn’t as helpful as Peter had thought.

 

“Is that really all you’re going to give the man?” Rhodey said in disbelief, giving voice to Peter’s own muted incredulity. For a showman and a talkative storyteller, Tony had made this whole thing boil down to a single bullet point instead of an overlong short story.

 

But Happy, to Peter’s sheer confusion, only shrugged and nodded, immediately accepting it. “Oh, ok, that actually explains everything.”

 

“What could that have possibly explained?” Pepper questioned, looking a bit more mystified than she would usually allow herself to be.

 

Tony grinned, the flash of white teeth sharp against his lined face. “Happy’s a simple guy, he doesn’t really need all the bells and whistles. I didn’t need to be as specific with it.”

 

Happy grunted in agreement. “You spend enough time with Tony while he’s being ridiculous, and you learn to read between the lines. Besides, magic is more believable than my working theory of accidental child acquisition or vigilantes performing necromancy.”

 

Tony nodded in fake solemnity. “It really is, isn’t it? Intentional child acquisition is more my speed” he said wryly.

 

Silence reigned once more, broken only by Tony’s short huffs of laughter and Morgan’s giggles, before Peter could see the moment Rhodey and Pepper fluttered their eyes and decided to leave it alone. He made another mental note that Happy, for all his obviousness in his emotions, had a mind that was impossible to read, even by two of the most level-headed people he knew.

 

“So,” Happy started, ignoring the dumbfounded expressions and laughter of everyone else around him, “You’re Tony’s kid huh? And May’s?” And Peter, despite his ongoing insecurities, wrapped lovingly in guilt and panic, couldn’t find it in himself to disagree on either point.

 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Peter murmured.

 

“Well,” Happy said, looking like he was trying his level best not to cry, “Tony’s my best friend, and May was…May was one of the most special women I knew. So, you must be a special kid.”

 

“Uh, well, uh,” Peter stammered, “May was…May was the best.” By the look in Happy’s eyes, Peter was sure that he agreed, with a depth that no one else in the room could understand. “But you always just used to call me annoying.”

 

Happy’s mouth twitched for a moment. “I must have really liked you, then.”

 

And before Peter could respond beyond a deeper flush and the suspicious sting of tears starting in the back of his eyes, Happy had wrapped him in a hug, his fourth of the night, increasing his amount of physical contact exponentially compared to what he had had in all his lonely months before. Perhaps he was touch-starved, beforehand, because each and every hug felt like a warm blanket, when he could ignore his own sense of unworthiness. “I’m sorry I forgot your face, kid. But it’s nice to meet you again” he continued, talking into Peter’s hair. If he wasn’t mistaken, Peter could almost detect a choked quality to his voice, making it seem like Happy was about to cry.

 

And that, after everything, is what did him in. Peter had missed Happy, desperately, perhaps even more than he had missed Tony or May, because unlike them, he knew that his almost uncle was still alive, wandering throughout the city completely unaware of who he was. “It is nice,” Peter whispered, tears starting to drip down his cheeks for another countless time.

 

“Well would you look at that,” Tony teased gently, “Happy Hogan’s gotten soft while I’ve been gone.”

 

“Shut up,” Happy said, trying and failing to hide the fact that he was bawling. “This is a manly hug, between two tough dudes.” And perhaps there was a certain amount of toughness in men that were unapologetically crying their eyes out in front of their family, including a surprisingly stoic little girl, after a night of whirlwind reunions.

 

It was that toughness that kept Peter there, present in the room of his newfound family, even when all he wanted to do was break apart from the swell of feelings—good, bad, and everywhere in between—that he was experiencing, locked in the arms of a man that didn’t remember him, but had known and loved May and Tony, and found that endorsement good enough. It was another person that, suddenly and completely, found themselves caring, not about Spider-Man, or even solely about the newly resurrected Tony Stark, but about poor pathetic Peter Parker.

 

Once again, Tony could likely sense Peter crumbling apart, another one of Aunt May’s walnut date loaves, made with love but bitter and brittle on the inside. He reached out to clasp one of Happy’s shoulders with one hand and Peter’s head with the other, carefully breaking them apart from each other.

 

“Well, no matter how manly the hug, Peter is still a teenager. And it’s time for spiderlings…and mongooses…to go to bed,” he said softly, his tone level but his eyes seeped in concern.

 

“Hey,” Happy protested weakly, “I only just got here!”

 

“That’s what you get for being late man,” Rhodey interjected, also moving to stand and head towards one of the many guest rooms in the house. “I’ll take the usual room, ok Tony? It’s too late for me to be driving.”

 

“Sounds good platypus.”

 

“Daddy, wait, I don’t want the party to end!” Morgan protested, even as she yawned.

 

Pepper scooped her up, balancing Morgan’s lanky limbs with practiced ease. “No, your daddy’s right, it’s way past your bedtime. Time for all of us to turn in.”

 

Morgan pouted, before turning surprisingly somber eyes towards Tony. “Will you still be here tomorrow?” she asked hesitantly.

 

Peter could almost feel the moment Tony’s face crumpled. “Of course I will, Maguna,” he said, smacking a kiss on her forehead. “And I’ll even tell you a story tonight too.”

 

Her face instantly lit up. “Promise?”

 

Tony held up a pinky finger. “Pinky promise.”

 

Morgan grinned before slumping into Pepper’s shoulder, giving her mom silent permission to take her up the stairs towards her bedroom.

 

The only people left in the room after that were Happy, Tony, and Peter. Happy took one look at Peter’s likely broken face, and Tony’s fatherly one, before nodding to himself and extracting his presence from the room. “I’ll also take my usual room, Boss,” he stated, turning around and lumbering away before any more emotionally charged snappy comebacks could catch him. Tony didn’t try to stop him, and neither did Peter. Even in the face of an impossible reunion, the close bond between them all was strong enough to recognize that what everyone needed was a bit of space. Or at least, that’s what Peter needed. Desperately.

 

“And then there were two,” Tony said with mildly forced, good-natured humor. “C’mon Pete. Now that the peanut gallery’s left, let me show you to your room.”

 

At this point, Peter should really stop being shocked when he heard things. He knew now that Tony had cared about him deeply, turning back time and battling through cosmic energies in order to make sure they reunited. No one else in the world could make that claim. But still, he was surprised, hearing the proprietary nature in the words ‘your room,’ as if, unlike a random guest, Peter really and truly had a place here.

 

“My room?” he voiced, waiting for Tony to confirm or deny his unspoken suspicions.

 

“Your room, Pete,” Tony said bashfully, placing a careful arm around Peter’s shoulders as he steered him up the stairs. They passed several rooms, a couple of which were certainly Tony and Pepper’s, judging by the soft scent of shampoo and perfume he could smell wafting from it, and Morgan’s, identified by a piece of construction paper cartoonishly garnished with big bubble letters declaring it the property of Morgan Hope Stark. Finally, they stopped at the corner at the end of the hall, the dark grain of the door seeming to stare back at them.

 

Peter could feel the vibrations of Tony’s left arm shaking through his body, but ignored it, leaving the man with his dignity. Even without sensing it, the man’s nervousness was obvious even in his voice. “So, I have no idea what Pepper even thought about this room once the Wizard of Oz cast his spell, but back…before,” during the Blip, Peter filled in. “Before…everything happened, when we were building this house, I kind of had a room prepared for you. Well with you in mind. Vaguely,” Tony continued, unaware of Peter’s mental interruption. “I guess even back then, my subconscious never stopped hoping that we’d get you all back. Probably not the healthiest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked out, and now you’re here to enjoy it, so some might say that I had incredible foresight. Yeah. Let’s just go with that.”

 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said tiredly, knowing that if he let him, Tony would blabber on for hours, unable to finish his thoughts or move ahead. They were similar in that way, sometimes too mired in their own anxieties to evolve past them. “Are you going to open the door?” He was touched, really, that he had been thought of at all while Tony built his family home. Anything that was there, in a room all his own, would be more than he had expected, deserved, or even dreamed of. It was further proof, that he really didn’t need but still wanted anyways, that Tony cared, and had always cared.

 

“Yeah, ok, good plan,” Tony nodded, before twisting the doorknob and swinging it inwards.

 

Peter’s first thought, after his eyes had worked through the small cloud of dust that stirred in the air, was that he was much more than vaguely in Tony’s mind when the room was designed. Star Wars posters decorated the walls, painted dark blue in a way that muted light to support his sensitive eyes, and pockmarked with glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, showing constellations that Peter knew Tony hated but Peter still loved, even after his misadventures in space. On shelves bracketed against the wall were some of Peter’s Lego kits that he had noticed missing from his and May’s stuff in storage and had written off as lost. Books on physics, biochemistry, and science fiction were also on the shelves, organized neatly. A lone Spider-Man plushie lay on the corner of the bed, complimenting the maroon and blue bed sheets. Everything looked virtually untouched, as if Tony had assembled the room and then shut the door because he couldn’t bear to look at it.

 

This entire room was a shrine to a boy thought lost forever, the frustrated expression of love from an emotionally constipated superhero, grieving and wounded, older in his soul than he should have ever been.

 

Peter had no idea what to say.

 

“I know it’s a bit much,” Tony said, breaking the awkward silence. “If you don’t like anything, we can remove it, or honestly we could scrap the whole room and start over if you’d like. Anything you want, really. Just give me the word. Any words would be good actually. Peter?” he said, the use of Peter’s actual name conveying his seriousness.

 

Peter worked open his throat, desperate to reassure the man—his father in all but blood, he could finally admit—that this room was perfect. A different kind of perfect from the home he shared with May, but perfect all the same, in a way that was uniquely representative of the tentative but deep relationship he shared with the billionaire who scooped him up from Queens and helped him become a hero.

 

“It’s good, Tony,” he finally said, pushing every ounce of sincerity that he could into the simple words. “It’s good.”

 

“That’s good, Pete,” Tony breathed out softly. “Well,” he slid his feet agitatedly, moving to walk towards the open door, “I know you probably need some space. I’ll leave you to it. Bathroom is down the hall to the right, and if Pepper hasn’t changed anything, there should be some spare towels in your closet.” Peter knew without a doubt that Pepper, even if she had no idea who this room was for, hadn’t changed a thing about her deceased husband’s designs.

 

“Thanks,” Peter said with a minute tilt of his head, acknowledging Tony’s words. With a last fidgety hug, during which Peter tried his level best not to sob again, Tony left the room, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts for the first time in, well, weeks. It was what he had wanted for hours, slowly overwhelmed by the weight of his sorrow and the profoundness of his shameful, joyous hope.

 

It felt lonely.

 

Peter operated on autopilot, shedding his jeans and grabbing a loose pair of sweatpants from the unsurprisingly fully stocked closet, before crashing onto the bed, not bothering to brush his teeth or otherwise take care of himself. Lying on his back, he counted the stars swimming above him, a glimpse into a life—a universe—so much bigger than him. Unlike with Tony, the view only calmed him down. His worries seemed smaller, balanced against the weight of the universe. They always did, in the moment.

 

“My name is Peter Benjamin Parker,” he whispered, hearing the way the words bounced around the room before seemingly melting into the walls. Sound-resistant, like I thought. “I exist to someone other than myself, now.” So many people I care about know, a little, who I am. “I have a home and a family.” A self-proclaimed little sister, a dad, a Pepper, two pseudo uncles. “And I don’t know if I deserve it.” I have everything I want, now, except for Ned and MJ, and May. And I can never get May back.

 

It was a depressing thought to leave off with, but Peter was used to depressing thoughts after all this time. His mind was overloaded with feeling, and the negative thoughts had always nestled the deepest in his core, even when he projected nothing but blatant optimism. That was the secret about Spider-Man. It still hurt. Everything hurt. Even happiness.

 

As he slipped into sleep, resting on a comfortable bed at long last, Peter wondered how long his joy would feel like a too-tight leash around his neck, choking him with loving care.

 

------------

 

Tony couldn’t sleep. There were a lot of reasons for it. The first was that, simply, he hadn’t needed to sleep in his ghostly form for weeks and he had grown used to standing silent vigil throughout the night. That experience, mixed with his already disastrous history of insomnia, rendered him bright-eyed and bushy-tailed despite his emotional exhaustion. There was also the addition of Pepper sleeping by his side, her soft breaths tickling his hair. It was a feeling he had thought he’d never experience again. He didn’t want to miss a single moment, forget a single feeling, so he laid alert, memorizing the way she felt curled against him, wrapped around his chest with the ferocity of a woman who believed herself permanently widowed.

 

If Tony’s predictions were correct, which they usually were, it was only a matter of time before Morgan came sneaking in too, claiming that her bed was too cold, her stuffed animals too loud in their imagined conversations, or her worries too big to let her continue to sleep alone. Or who knows? He could’ve been wrong about the whole thing. His daughter was older now, after all. Maybe she was too old for the need to reassure herself, deep in the night, that her loved ones were still there.

 

Not that he had ever outgrown the habit.

 

And that was the last reason he was still awake, even as the rest of the house shifted and settled with every snore erupting from his friend’s nose (really, he should get Happy a brand-new sleep apnea machine, the fact that he could still hear his old friend through layers of soundproofing was a definite issue.) He was worried, as worried as he had been for several weeks, about Peter. He could tell, by the deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes, the mixture of hope and pained fear that settled in his pursed lips every time anyone showed him affection, that Peter was going to need time to adjust to his new normal. The kid, self-sacrificing idiot that he was, was probably beating himself up about being happy. Tony should know; he basically invented that move. If you opened up a copy of the DSM-5 or whatever edition they were on now, Tony’s face, signature goatee and all, would be plastered all over the pages outlining a guilt complex. He understood Peter, more deeply than he understood most people, and that’s why he was lying here in his bed, next to his long-suffering wife, haunted by anxiety and unable to quiet his mind. Years of being a genius had never brought him a step closer to figuring that out, not without copious amounts of alcohol involved.

 

His therapist would definitely have called it a bad thing, but it was also the reason that he was able to immediately hear FRIDAY’s soft ping, a built-in alert that signaled him when signs of distress were coming from one of the kids’ rooms. Carefully extracting himself from Pepper’s grip, he slid a Bluetooth device into his ear, keeping quiet so as not to awake anyone else, even as he hurriedly rushed out into the hall, clad only in his ratty (yet entirely comfortable) pajamas.

 

“FRI, baby, where is the alert coming from?” he whispered, already heading towards his children’s rooms. He knew the answer before FRIDAY even confirmed it. Although it was entirely possible Morgan was having a nightmare, fueled by juice-pop sugar and the excitement of seeing her dead father walking and joking around, he suspected that it was Peter whimpering in fear.

 

“It appears it’s coming from Mr. Parker’s room, Boss,” FRIDAY said, somehow managing to convey concern in her robotic voice. Damn, she’s really improved.

 

“Thanks FRI. You can turn off the alarm now, I’ve got it handled,” he murmured, coming to a stop right in front of Peter’s door.

 

“Alright, Boss,” she chirped. In the next instant, the steady beeping that had been pulsating through Tony’s earpiece was silenced.

 

“Ok,” he muttered to himself, “Should I knock, or just go for it?” He was Tony Stark, Iron Man, generally the most impulsive person in the room, even if he was thinking things through. And behind that door was his kid, locked in a nightmare, filled with who knows how many real-life images he unfortunately had the range to choose from.

 

Tony swung open the door, rushing forward when he saw Peter constricting back and forth in his bed sheets, his curls damp with sweat and plastered to his forehead, repeatedly calling out “No, please, don’t go, no.”

 

For a brief moment, invisible hands were squeezing Tony’s weak heart, and he was taken back to another place, on another night, located in a far-off planet, similar words being uttered as Peter begged him to save him, saying he didn’t want to go. I don’t want to go, Mr. Stark. Then the image flashed forward, their positions flipped, Tony lying useless and nearly unresponsive on the ground of the destroyed compound, Peter’s hazy visage filling his gaze. Please, Mr. Stark, can you hear me?

 

Tony shook himself out of the flashbacks, resolve steeling his spine and silencing the voices and memories that had stalked and haunted his steps for far too long. Gently, he settled himself on the bed, mindful of Peter’s twitching limbs that could chuck him across the room if he wasn’t careful. He wasn’t incorporeal anymore, and Peter had super-strength that he likely wasn’t controlling right now, trapped in the grips of a nightmare.

 

“I’m here, Peter,” he said calmly, reaching forward to run his hands through Peter’s sweaty locks, hoping the actions would soothe the boy into wakefulness. He knew from his own experience that trying to force him awake now would only end up with fear and violence. “It’s ok, I’m here, and everything is going to be alright. I hear you, Pete.” Can you hear me? “I’m not going anywhere.” I don’t want to go. “You aren’t alone, anymore, Underoos. You’ve got me, and I’ve got you.” We won, Mr. Stark. “Can you wake up for me, Peter? Follow the sound of my voice. I’m here. I’m here.” He kept murmuring soothing words, stroking Peter’s hair and laying a careful hand on his shoulder, right at the juncture next to his neck, attempting to ground him while also avoiding his tensed arms. He would have freaked out more, if he hadn’t seen that with every word, Peter’s body became less jerky, and his eyes started to flutter more, the lashes batting like butterfly wings, bringing him closer and closer to wakefulness.

 

Tony opened his mouth again, his voice just a little louder, his words just a little more aggressive, hoping against all hope that his frankly embarrassing fear wasn’t overtaking the forced calm in his voice. “Peter. Are you there? Wake up, buddy, you’re having a nightmare.” And between one inhale and one exhale, Peter’s eyes were wide open, darting around in a panic before finally settling on Tony, his breaths coming out in jagged gasps.

 

“Hey, hey, there you are buddy,” Tony said immediately, knowing that the longer Peter was left to process his thoughts, the more scared he would become. “I’m right here. Why don’t we do something fun, and play the breathing game alright?” He shifted his hand, lifting one of Peter’s arms until he had Peter’s fingertips pressed to his chest, letting his kid feel his heart beating with every passing second. “Listen to my heart, and breathe with me, ok? In, hold, out, rest. Again. In, hold, out, rest, in…” Tony repeated the words, breathing in tandem with his instructions while Peter fought to do the same, his eyes bugging outwards in a way that would have been funny if he hadn’t so clearly been on the verge of freaking out.

 

Finally, after what seemed to him like an eternity, Peter was breathing normally, and his hands were no longer as clammy.

 

“We all good now, kid?” Tony asked, trying to calm himself down too.

 

Peter burst into tears. Ok, definitely not all good now. Fuck.

 

“Hey, hey, relax kiddo,” Tony said in a panic, his usual coolness when dealing with Morgan’s crying fits overridden now that he was faced with a broken teenager dealing with real memories rather than a little girl frightened of a monster under her bed. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Peter, hoping that at the very least, the feeling would ground him. “I’m here. I’m here. Let it all out. Don’t hold anything back, it’ll only hurt more.” Tony would know. Half of his biggest disasters had been caused by his inability to vent his emotions healthily.

 

“I…I’m happy,” Peter cried out, interrupting his own words with choked little sobs that broke Tony’s heart in new and creative ways. Ok, not how I thought that this would start.

 

“You’re happy?” he muttered encouragingly, hoping to prompt Peter into speaking more. He wasn’t disappointed.

 

“I’m hap-py and I don’t kn-know why,” Peter continued, choking on every other word. “Or, I do know why. Because you’re alive. And I finally have a family again, Mr. Stark. But I m-miss m-my old life too,” he said, and Tony understood. Because gaining something new never replaced what had been there before. FRIDAY wasn’t JARVIS. Rhodey wasn’t his mother. Morgan hadn’t been Peter. They were all wonderful, priceless, irreplaceable additions to his family, but they weren’t the people he had known and lost.

 

“I know you do, it’s ok,” Tony crooned soothingly, rubbing his hand up and down Peter’s shuddering back.

 

That small bit of permission apparently set Peter on a roll. “I miss Midtown,” he started, “I miss going to Mr. Delmar’s and having him know my order, I miss Ned and MJ, I missed you, and now I miss M-May,” he sobbed uncontrollably. “And I’m the reason that’s all gone! May is gone. It’s m-my fault, and I-I don’t deserve to be happy now,” he finished, dissolving even further into hot and salty tears.

 

Gently, Tony pushed Peter backwards until he could meet his eyes. “You do deserve to be happy, Peter.”

 

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but Tony shushed him with a small shake of his head. “I know exactly what you were going to say—some well-meaning nonsense about how you were the cause of all your worries, and this is your responsibility and your punishment, and more things that’ll give me an ulcer. And I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong, unless you also believe that I don’t deserve my family because of all the times I fucked up.” It was a low blow, inserting himself into the conversation, but Tony needed Peter to be shocked into being kinder to himself, because he wouldn’t do it willingly.

 

As he expected, Peter’s eyes widened further, indignation clear in his gaze. “No, of course not Mr. Stark! You saved the world!”

 

Tony shook his head. “No, I saved you. Because I missed you. It’s ok to miss people, Peter. That’s why the Soul Stone broke me out of purgatory or whatever the hell that in-between space was. Because we missed each other. That doesn’t mean you can’t still be happy.”

 

Peter still looked like he didn’t understand, but at least he didn’t bother to protest anymore. Tony would take it. “Talk to me kid. Don’t keep it in. What do you miss?”

 

There was a beat of silence, and then Peter was talking again, his usual energetic chatter filtered through the haze of grief. “I miss eating Thai food with May, with lots of extra larb because the guy who owned the restaurant was in love with her. I miss swinging through the city with MJ, because she hated it, but she still did it for me because she l-loves me. Loved. I don’t know. I miss hacking into tech with Ned, because he always managed to make it funny even though we were probably doing something super illegal.” Tony raised an eyebrow at that one. Yeah, I remember when you decided to get creative with my million-dollar suit, you little shits. “I don’t really miss EDITH because I kind of misused her, but I miss Karen. She was growing with me, you know? And,” Peter’s voice dropped to a whisper that Tony had to strain to hear. “I miss when Spider-Man was a hero. Not even a superhero. Just a hero that the people in Queens still loved.” He stopped talking after that, apparently having exhausted his voice.

 

There were a lot of words to unpack there. Tony couldn’t do anything about May, no matter how much he wished he could work some magic and bring her back for Peter too. And Ned and MJ were issues that Peter was currently not in the mindset to deal with; he couldn’t force them back into Peter’s life while he was still so fragile. EDITH was a bit of a nonstarter, although he really did need to reclaim her from whatever shadowy organization had decided it had a right to it. (It was probably Ross, that bastard).

 

But Karen? Making Spider-Man—and Peter, by default—beloved again? That was something that Tony the mechanic, the icon, and the ruthless businessman, could fix.

 

“I’m sorry about May, Peter. I’ll always be sorry about May. But it’s ok to miss her and to be happy too, ok kiddo? Even if you can’t accept it now, I want you to at least register my words anyways. I don’t talk just because I like the sound of my own voice, you know,” he said somberly, cushioning the topic with a joke, like he always did.

 

And Peter, still disbelieving but calmer, nodded back at him, like he always did. “Ok, Mr. Stark. I hear you.” Can you hear me?

 

Tony blinked the memory away again. “As for the rest of it…we already decided to shelve the topic of your friend and your scary but pretty girlfriend—” “Mr. Stark!” “—but the other stuff? Karen, and the amazing Spider-Man? We can work on that.”

 

Peter blinked at him, startled, before his mouth broke into a tentative grin. “We can?”

 

Tony smirked, ruffling Peter’s hair, messing it up more than it already was. Oh well. He could abuse dad privileges whenever he wanted, now. He had permission from one of the building blocks of the universe. “Yes, we can. But tomorrow. For tonight, you’re going back to sleep.”

 

Peter’s face, which had been dimpled with the dawning of a smile, dropped back down into a frown. “I don’t know if…”

 

Tony interrupted him, nudging him aside with his elbows. “Don’t worry, your old man is going to stay with you until you fall back asleep. Nothing can hurt you while Iron Man is here, don’t you know?” he said with a purposeful grin.

 

Peter blushed, but looked more grateful than he knew how to express, the words ‘thank you’ drifting between them unspoken. Tony preferred it above the words ‘I’m sorry’ so much that it was crazy that he hadn’t already scribbled out the words of apology from the dictionary. Maybe next time.

 

“I don’t know, you’re probably rusty Mr. Stark,” Peter teased, attempting to deflect from his emotions. Sorry kid, I know all those tricks. I wrote the manual. “Actually, the suit might have literal rust on it now.”

 

Tony narrowed his eyes playfully. “I’ll have you know, first of all, that from my perspective, I just kicked alien ass less than two months ago. And second, you should know that my suits would never rust. That’s sacrilege.”

 

Something in Peter’s eyes flickered before he smiled. “Well, we wouldn’t want to be sacrilegious.”

 

“No, we wouldn’t. You’d probably end up hit by Thor’s new axe or something,” Tony ribbed back. He flopped onto his back and stretched out an arm, letting it lay casually between them, an invitation for Peter to grasp it for comfort if he really needed it. “You better go to bed before you summon him.”

 

“Goodnight, Tony,” Peter said hesitantly, the edge of his hand creeping across the sheets to rest a hairsbreadth away from Tony’s own.

 

“Goodnight, Peter,” he replied, resigning himself to staying awake for longer, this time watching over his traumatized kid. Fuck if it wasn’t worth it.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Fly on the Wall