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“But Mr. Stark…!” “No.” “C’mon Mr. Stark, please?” “Still a no, kid.” Peter flopped dramatically onto the couch, face first next to an amused Natasha. She, along with the rest of the common room, had been audience to this banter for the past half hour. “I bet,” said Clint, dropping down on Peter’s other side and cracking open a Coke, “That this is payback for the whole choosing-Columbia-over-MIT thing. You really hurt him, kid. Heard Tony cried all night-“ “Alright,” Tony interrupted, “it’s enough that my mentee chose to betray me in the worst way, we don’t need to rub it in any more.” Peter rolled his eyes, turning over on the couch. It was April of his Senior year, and Tony knew perfectly well why he chose Columbia (or as Tony called it, “that liberal arts bastion of no real consequence”).----- When Peter had weighed his college options that Spring, he tried to convince Tony and May that the choice was totally obvious. Columbia had offered him a full ride to study in their physics department, saving Peter and May the embarrassment of accepting a September Foundation Grant, which Tony had so flippantly offered. Plus, Peter could live close to home, a short commute from May and his increasingly time-intensive lab projects at Stark Industries. And his two best friends were staying in the city for college as well, so he could get his fill of Ned-and-MJ time, at least on the weekends. And those were all the reasons he chose Columbia. That was it. Nothing else. No other reason to stay in the city… …or so he assured May and Tony, who both tried as hard as they could to make sure he wasn’t shaping his life around Spiderman. “Peter, please,” May had begged the week before, as he sat with the Columbia and MIT acceptance letters at the kitchen table. “You know I’d love you to stay close to home, and of course I’d be proud either way. But tell me you’re not giving up MIT for Spiderman. Sweetie, the city survived without you for long enough-“ “I know, I know, I know,” said Peter, “I just really want to go to Columbia, May, I swear. That’s it.” And so he signed on the dotted blue line, with visions of himself swinging through the Upper West Side to Harlem dancing through his head. ----- Peter adjusted his position in the couch to gaze at the lounging Avengers, marveling at the progress since their last meeting. Even the air felt different, Peter imagined. Now that negotiations were officially underway to modify the Sokovia Accords, the team had found themselves together in the upstate compound more and more... ----- One Saturday morning, he found Sam in the kitchen, sweaty from a run and drinking orange juice straight from the carton. (“Hey Falcon!” Peter had squeaked at him without thinking. He tried to recover- “Nice to-ah-see you! I’m Peter the intern, so yeah, I’ll just be…uh…going! Intern things to do!” before darting from the room, leaving a confused Sam in front of the open fridge). The next Friday night, as he sat watching a movie with Pepper, he looked down to a hand grabbing popcorn from the bowl in his lap. He traced it up to a relaxed-looking Hawkeye. (“What are we watching?” asked Clint, as if this was some long-standing tradition between friends). His cover was blown, though, by the next morning. Leaving the room he used on the weekends and for late nights in the lab, Peter stretched his arms to the air, yawning widely. He shuffled to the kitchen, throwing his headphones in as he pulled up the news coverage on his latest scuffle with a would-be-car hijacker from the week before. He watched for the mistakes he knew he made, pausing to see what he could do better (he paused jussst too long before webbing up the dude’s knife, resulting in a gash that was now a soft scar. But really, the reactionary pivot kick was positively badass). As he analyzed the footage, Peter webbed open the kitchen cabinet, grabbing a bowl with the tip of his ring finger as he balanced his phone with his thumb. Still focusing on the video, he scaled the wall next to the pantry, snagging his ‘secret’ stash of Lucky Charms from the top shelf. Breakfast in hand, he leapt to the ground and turned to the kitchen table… …and made eye contact with nearly the entirety of the Avengers. His cereal spilled across the floor as his jaw dropped open. “Sup, ‘Peter the Intern’?” said Sam dryly, crossing his arms from his seat. He turned to Tony. “Can all of your interns do that now?” “No,” said Tony idly, “the more talented ones shoot the web from their a—“ “Queens,” said Steve, who was looking over Peter with a small smile, “pull up a chair.”--- That was months ago. Since then, Peter had fallen into a more comfortable rhythm with the team. If he came to the compound after school, he’d sometimes find Natasha in the gym, more than willing to spar (and, if he ever got close to winning, also more than willing to Taze him). Steve and Bucky would watch them from the weight room, where they’d always let Peter fool around with their specially developed super-weights (they’d never engage in a lifting competition with him- Steve said it was because Peter would get hurt. Bucky said it was because Steve was afraid of losing to a kid from Queens). He could pretty much count on Bruce and Vision being in the lab, and although their work was mostly beyond Peter’s comprehension, it was nice to have quiet company while he was studying. Weekends were much livelier- the whole team took most of Saturday to train in the outdoor facilities. Although Tony was more than hesitant to allow Peter to engage with the fully equipped Avengers (“I feel like Betsy Ross every time I have to sew that suit up” he whined), even he admitted it was the best training the kid would get. And so Peter would spend his weekends swatting at Clint’s arrows, dodging whatever Wanda threw his way, trying to guess where Steve’s shield was coming from before it hit him… he could hardly believe his luck. Even when Tony would send him to his room at night to “do your homework” (“More like so Tony can get drunk” Clint piped in), Peter would still have a smile on his face, happy to feel like a part of something. A part of something big.---- And so, as the Avengers readied for their renegotiation in Washington, Peter was distraught that he wouldn’t be going. (“Kid,” Tony had said during their first argument on the topic, exasperated, “How am I supposed to explain a 17 year-old at the negotiation table to Ross? Oh, this is just our new Team Mascot? We found him in Queens and we’re pretty sure he doesn’t have fleas? Really, kid.”) “On the bright side,” said Bruce, walking in to the common room, briefcase in hand, “Scott’s not going either.” Peter groaned. “That’s because it’s his daughter’s piano recital. Also, he doesn’t even want to go. I do!” Happy walked in at that moment, cell phone in hand. “Jet’s ready when you guys are, Boss. Pepper's gonna meet you at Dulles. She says try not to kill eachother on the way there." The team migrated towards the door, the engines of the Quinjet rumbling outside. Tony shot Peter a Look. "If you go anywhere this weekend, let Happy know. Pepper's not here to feed you, but she left half of Costco in the fridge. Don't get in any fights you can't handle, I won't be here to save your ass. And try not to shove any peas up your nose." Peter made a face at Tony's exiting back. Steve ruffled Peter’s hair on the way out. “It’s gonna be boring anyways, Pete. I’d much rather be swinging around the city than sitting pretty with Congress on a weekend like this.” “Yeah,” said Bucky, winking at Peter as he walked out the door, “save a couple muggers for the rest of us, Queens.”
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By the time Tony was lowering himself into a chair on the Quinjet, Natasha was already buckled in to the pilot’s seat, adjusting her headpiece, Bruce to the copilot’s seat to her side. (Tony was going to make a comment about how absolutely cliché that was, but he refrained). “Everyone good?” Natasha asked, “We’ll get going in a minute.” Tony reached under his seat as the jet roared to life, fooling around with some unseen device as Rhodey surveyed him warily from his left side. “You good, Tones? A little nervous?” “Nope,” Tony sighed as he sat up. “Never nervous. Road beer?” He held a mini bottle of champagne out to Rhodey, a second cold one clasped in his right hand. Rhodey groaned. “Aren’t we supposed to wait for that stuff until, you know, after we sign the new Accords?” Tony shrugged, gesturing openly. “There’s always a reason to celebrate.” He leaned forward, holding the bottle teasingly out to Steeve. “What do you think, Cap? A toast to togetherness?” Steve rolled his eyes over the documents in his hands, not bothering with a reply. Next to him, Bucky and Sam were mirror images of each other, heads leaned against the wall of the jet as they attempted a nap. To Steve’s other side, Wanda sat with Vision, quietly loosing a match of chess on her phone. Clint, meanwhile, was leaning against the back of the jet, shooting off a text to his wife (or maybe his kids. Tony didn’t know. Were farm kids allowed to have phones?). Sam was sprawled on the floor in front of him, taking a screwdriver to the guts of his wing pack. The team sat in comfortable silence, save the quiet murmurings of Nat and Bruce up front. Tony gazed out across the team, still marveling over the progress they'd made in recent weeks. Just a couple months ago, a ride like this would have meant a tense silence, broken only by the catastrophic arguments Tony and Steve seemed so ready to jump into. And sure, things still weren't perfect- Tony was dreading this next round of negotiations in DC- but the fact that the group had been bunking at the Compound with no major issues was a victory in and of itself. He thought about the last few weekends, of training together as a team, sharing meals together, even being in the same room voluntarily to watch TV- yeah, the group dynamics were almost unrecognizable from earlier that year. And it was all the kid's fault. Everyone knew it. Sure, he talked a mile a minute to anyone who would listen. And was sometimes so awkwardly eager-to-impress that it was literally painful to watch. And still couldn't look Nat or Wanda (or for that matter, even Steve) in the eye without blushing like a schoolgirl. And one time he "accidentally" got stuck in the ceiling vents thanks to a dare from Clint ("Kid's gotta learn the hard way, and that's all there is to it," Clint had said, with a very straight face). But yeah, the team couldn't stay away from the kid. Tony had only been the first of them to fall into that trap. As if Sam could hear Tony's thoughts, his voice piped up- “So Tony,” he said, still half-focused on the dismembered wings, “Since Pete’s not here to this weekend to be your makeshift son, who are you going to shower all that fatherly affection on? Is it gonna be Steve, or maybe some more of that weird thing you have with Bruce? Or do we all get a little of it?” Tony opened his mouth to interrupt, to say something witty about Sam crushing on Steve or getting in a cat fight with Bucky, but before he could deliver- the jet gave a start. “Natasha--?” he began, before the jet listed sharply to the right. “Nat! What’s happening?!” “I don’t know, I don’t know, it's something external-“ Blaring alarms cut her off. Somewhere, a hissing noise. From the back of the jet came a clatter as Sam fell to his knees. The hissing sound grew stronger, origin unclear. Tony spun around, watching as Clint reached out to hold up Sam, stumbling drunkenly before he too fell. Tony’s vision started to grey. He couldn’t think straight. A shadow of something blurred to his right. Rhodey, Wanda, Nat, Bruce…all in different stages of slump, on their hands and knees. Even Vision jerked to the ground, something electric wrapped around his chest. Steve was struggling to his feet, but just past him…in the corner… that shadow… Everything went black.
----
Tony woke slowly, something buzzing deep in his ears. He blinked a few times, clearing the fog from his eyes. Turning to his right, he saw Rhodey sitting up against the wall. “Good morning, Tony,” he said, voice dripping with false motivation. “Welcome back.” "Rhodey," Tony groaned, sitting up, "Did you spike that champagne or something? You know I'm all for a Friday night bender, but you at least gotta warn a guy." He looked around, squinting against the one florescent light in the center of the room- he was the last to have woken up. Steve was pacing the concrete floor while the rest of his teammates were in various states of disarray on the ground. None, Tony noted, seemed to be hurt. “So,” Asked Tony, as he dusted himself off, “What’d I miss?” The steel door in the front of the room banged open before anyone could answer. A man in blue, with a (frankly ridiculous) red cape and green amulet stood in the doorway. “Glad you could join us, Mr. Stark,” he said. “I apologize for the...dramatics involved in getting everyone together. Now if you could all please follow me into this next room.” The man's cape twisted behind him as he spun to exit. "We need to talk."
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The next room was just as dingy- windowless, cold, concrete- as the first, but was outfitted with technology that clearly surpassed the worth of its setting. A long, complex row of computers curved around a hologram table. Various status reports were constantly scrolling down the screens. The team shuffled around the digital table, taking in the display before them. Vision was focused on the display- rather than a map or terrain, a series of geometric figures projected over the center of the room. Tony walked to the front of the table, arms crossed, and gave Strange and impatient look. “My colleague,” said Strange, vaguely gesturing to the dark shadow of a figure leaning over one of the computers. Tony hadn’t even noticed him when they first walked in- the guy was covered, head to toe, in black. “You may recognize him from earlier- he was the one who- ah- picked you up. All that aside,” the doctor clasped his hands in front of him, “Where to begin…” Strange glanced back to his shadowy partner, as if seeking confirmation. “Well. I guess I’ll just lay it all out there, then. We’ve been building this facility for the past six months, specifically for what is going to happen today. We knew we had to because, well… We’re from ten years in your future. And we’re trying to prevent the Earth from being destroyed. Or rather, stop it before it starts.” He cleared his throat. “Allow me to explain…”
---
“Ok,” said Sam, “Tell me the whole thing again, one more time. Like I’m five.” Strange sighed, massaging his forehead. The first explanation was bad enough- even with the illustrations pulled up on the table, Bruce could barely understand what Strange was saying. It took three different variations to really get the point across to the rest of the team. Strange spoke quickly and simply. “A month from today, Thanos comes. He needs the last two stones from Earth, and he gets them. He kills most of you, plus half the normal population, and enslaves the rest. For the last ten years, we’ve been hidden away as best as we could, doing nothing but running through different futures to determine what we need to do to beat Thanos.” Strange clears his throat. “And this- traveling back in time to catch the Avengers at the exact right time and place, when you’re all together and able to fight- this is the only way.” Tony, who had spent the last half hour slumped over the table, snapped up. “Why are we supposed to trust this? Any of it? Half of me feels like this is some sort of well-planned trap, and the other half feels like Ashton Kutcher is about to walk out with that whole ‘Punked’ thing. Which, by the way, is sooo early-2000s.” Strange opened his mouth to argue, but Tony cut him off- “And what’s with Batman back there?” The shadow shifted in the background. “Yeah, you. Hi! Sorry to interrupt your brooding. What’s your deal, other than official jet hijacker and Power Point clicker?” Strange turned back, paused, and nodded at the shadow, sending some sort of meaningfully wordless message. The shadow stepped forward to the light, sighing, as he reached up to pull off his black mask. Tony’s chest rippled. What he saw in front of him was… impossible.“Hey, Mr. Stark.”
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Tony stared. There was silence behind him. He realized that his mouth had fallen open, but made no moves to close it.It looked like Peter Parker in front of him, but like someone had sketched him as an adult, only hearing descriptions of how he appeared as a teen. His eyes were the same big brown puppy eyes, but his right was slightly damaged from a scar that broke from the top right of his forehead to his left cheek. His right lip had another scar running through it, this one red and angry. The man’s face was slightly unshaven, his hair longer and messy. And just the way he held his expression- there was none of the lightness that Peter had as a teen. This man was serious, maybe even brooding. The man shifted slightly at the paralyzed crowd. “Listen,” he said- even his voice was aged, sandpapery- “I know what Dr. Strange is telling you sounds like a lot. But,” his eyes scanned the crowd, “I know it’s not hard to believe. I went through your records. All of them.” He nodded over to Vision, “Your research on the stone. Clint and Nat, your work in Wakanda. You all knew that something was coming, that it was just a matter of time.” He motioned to the briefing table, “Well, the time has come. The time came and went already, for Dr. Strange and me, and the world we left behind. We lived through what the next ten years will be like, if we don’t act now.” The man had been avoiding Tony’s stare, but finally brought his eyes around to meet his. “We need to beat Thanos now, while the team is still together. We need to take the fight to him, and not wait for him to pick you off one by one. We need you,” he leveled his gaze, from Steve to Tony, “to trust us.”Tony looked at the man hard in the face, at the features he recognized in their earlier form. In the silence, he felt Steve’s penetrating stare on the back of his head. He turned to meet eyes with the man, who nodded once. Tony faced forward, crossing his arms.“Okay, Spiderman. What’s the plan?”
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The older Peter Parker (Tony still wasn’t sure what to make of him- this wasn’t his kid anymore, if he even believed the whole 10-years-in-the-future thing. He was still just humoring the man and wizard) slipped back into the shadows, silently observing the group in front of him, as they had erupted into cross conversations.After two hours of bouncing egos off each other, a rough plan was devised. Dr. Strange said they still had a month until Thanos would grow to full power on Earth and expose himself to the world- which meant that they didn’t have to react immediately. The team would fly on to DC (apparently, Fake Old Peter had parked the Quinjet right outside- kind of him), humor Ross and the rest of the American people with whatever bullshit they wanted to hear.“Keep up appearances, all that,” said Steve, nodding his head.“And to think, I had wanted to give them a show,” grumbled Clint.After that, the team would move on to Wakanda, per Dr. Strange’s insistence. There, he explained, the mind stone could be removed without harming Vision- and best protected from Thanos’ sure attack. Then, they could ready for the battle.Dr. Strange and Fake Old Peter had apparently been on ground for six months- enough time to get in contact with others to assist the fight. He mentioned a group that had been tracking Thanos from outer space, as well as a few ‘friends’ from other parts of the world. Tony shuddered at the reference to Scott Lang.“The worst mistake you made ten years ago was splitting up,” the wizard said. “We cannot allow that to happen again. Thanos will only be defeated if we all act together, under the protection of Wakanda.” Strange turned to address Stark directly, “And I mean it when I say that we need everyone. Even one individual- enhanced, alien, whatever- could mean the difference between victory and extinction.”Tony rolled his eyes, turning to Rhodey. “And to think that you thought I had a flair for the dramatic.” He looked back at Strange, voice dripping with sarcasm “and I suppose that the King himself doesn’t mind us all hauling ass to his utopia and knocking down the door?” Tony snorted. “Good luck getting this whole ‘ten-years-in-the-future’ thing through to him.”Dr. Strange rose an eyebrow. “We already have. That was our first stop when we arrived in this timeline. King T’Challa is expecting us tomorrow.”“Well in that case,” Tony rose from his seat, walking towards the door, “Let’s get this show on the road.” He was still avoiding eye contact with Fake Old Peter, who quite frankly, was throwing him off his game. “I still think this is all a big game, but it sounds like it’s gonna be a fun one.”-----Fake Old Peter hops in the pilot seat of the jet before anyone can stop him, mask covering his face. Strange gets in the copilot seat beside him, and turns to the rest of the Avengers as they file in.“We’ll be at the Capitol in about ten minutes. You’re arriving about two hours later than expected, so I recommend you formulate a story now. You must wrap this up by the end of the day, so we can leave for Wakanda this afternoon.” He surveys the group in front of him. “I know I don’t have to say this but… nobody can know what’s about to happen. Our greatest advantage here is surprise. We cannot lose that.”Tony ruffles at this- he’s supposed to be the one giving out instructions, not some wizard from the future. Eyebrows furrowed, he opens his mouth to reply. Rhodey jabs him in the ribs. “Tony,” he whispers, “I think the guy knows what he’s talking about.”Rolling his eyes, Tony sits back against his seat. The attitude in the jet his much quieter, much more tense than it had been earlier in the day. Nobody speaks, nobody makes eye contact.Tony clears his throat, slapping his hands against his knees. “Well then, we need a cover story. Normally I consider tardiness a power play with these people, but something tells me that might not go over the best in this crowd. Clint!” He calls out- the archer whips his head around- “We’re letting you take the fall for this one. We had to pick you up from a remote location, you were being difficult about it, whatever.”Clint pulls a face but shrugs, “Sounds accurate.”Steve speaks up. “How are we going to play this one? We can’t exactly march in there, shake some hands, and then leave.”Nat, sitting to his side, nods. “Yeah, but we can’t exactly let it play out either. We have other priorities now.” Her eyes linger on Peter in the pilot’s seat. “We go in, we make a few concessions to each other, shake some hands, agree to talk again in two months. Then we can leave.”Rhodey nods. “We can get them to agree to dropping some of the registration requirements, as well as the approvals needed for emergency action.”Steve considers. “Ok, then we’ll agree to abide by the clauses outlining long-term response requirements. And we’ll agree to recraft that emergency action clause, so long as immunity is a guarantee in immediately life threatening instances.”Rhodey grins and reaches out to shake Steve’s hand.“It’s funny how little this stuff seems to matter once you have human extinction thrown in your face.” Steve quips to Tony, and Tony almost smiles.----Five minutes later, when the bird lands in DC, Tony almost forgets about Thanos when he sees the murderous look on Pepper’s face.“You wanna tell her? She might take it better coming from you,” Tony begs Bruce.Bruce gives him a small smile. “It’s not even close to the worse thing you’ve done to her, Tony. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”As they prepare to exit the jet, Strange turns in his seat. “We’ll be hear when you’re done. Don’t take long.” Tony rolls his eyes, striding down the open ramp.“Pepper! My love! My fianc-““You’re lucky if I’m still marrying you, Tony- you’re two hours late. To a congressional hearing. What the hell happened?!” Her pointed toe taps impatiently as she glares at Tony, a frown slashed across her face.“Well, darling, it’s the funniest story- young Clint here, you know him, spending some time getting some fresh air off in—where were you, Clint? Iowa?”Clint turns to Tony, overplaying the Serious Super Spy. “That’s classified. Top secret, government approved mission. If I told you I’d have to kill you. Now let’s get this dog and pony show started.” He marches off the flight line as the jet pulls away.“Well,” says Pepper, rolling her eyes. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”---Fifteen minutes later, the group is seated in a neat row, blinking as photographers flash around them.“It is no secret why we are here,” Ross pontificates from the front of the room, “but to reform the Accords which once tore this team apart…”Tony can barely listen to the words. He glances around to Steve and Bruce, then down to Wanda and Vision, and see the same looks reflected on every face in between. Cap was right- all it took was some wizard, a ragged 27-year-old Peter, and the threats they carried with them to put everything in perspective. As Tony looks down the row, Ross lagging on in the background, he’s still not sure if he believes it. If he can believe that everyone seated next to him dies at the hands of Thanos, leaving the world dead or enslaved. If he believes that the quiet man, face full of scars, is the same one that they just left at the Compound that morning. If setting off for Wakanda isn’t just some elaborate trap that he’s walking right into.But there was something about that man in black that he recognized- and something that he couldn’t help but trust. It must be a Parker thing.Lost in his thoughts, Tony again comes to life as Rhodey jabs him in the side.“Mr. Stark?” Ross raises his eyebrows from the podium. “Are you still with us?”“Ah-yes. Yes I am. Very much so.”Ross rolls his eyes. “I was just saying that, perhaps if we have some open and respectful dialogue today, we might make some progress in—““Yes yes, we all agree. One hundred percent. I think that you’ll find Captain Rogers and myself, along with our team, to be quite…agreeable these days.”Ross again raises his eyebrows, this time in surprise. “While that is certainly welcome news, you understand how I might take it with a grain of disbelief…”---Four hours later, the team emerges from the chamber to the familiar flash of photographers and yells from reporters.Tony whips on his sunglasses, holding up his hand. The crowd silences.“Well, what a productive day that was! Wouldn’t you agree?” He pauses for a second, a few reporters shouting questions. “—unfortunately, we must be off, but Ms. Potts will be happy to answer any inquiries you might have. Thank you!”As he leads the team off on a power walk to the flight line, he pretends he doesn’t notice the deathly look that Pepper is shooting him. He momentarily considers weather his fiancé could perhaps scare him more than Thanos, and immediately decides not to pursue that train of thought.
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“So,” Tony says, “you gonna tell me what you’ve been up to these past ten years?”The masked man stays silent, staring straight ahead as if he didn’t hear Tony.They were about an hour in to their four hour flight to Wakanda (still better than commercial flight, but still), the Quinjet safely on autopilot as it crossed the ocean. Most of the team was either asleep or pretending to be—ignoring Vision and Wanda cuddling in the farthest corner they could find—but Tony couldn’t shake his restlessness. Especially now that Peter sat next to him.“Hey,” says Tony, rapping the man on his shoulder with his fist, “what’s up? You come here with all those scars and hair, looking like you’ve aged a century in a decade, and you don’t expect me to ask any questions?”The mask turns toward Tony slowly, and although he’d never admit it, Tony feels goosebumps appear on his arm. This might be his kid but—it’s not really his kid. He’s silently thankful when Peter pulls the black mask off his face, hair popping free.In a deep but quiet voice, he replies. “It’s…I… I haven’t been doing much. Just trying to hold everything together with Dr. Strange until we could figure out a real plan.” He opens and closes his mouth uncomfortably, as if he has more to add, but doesn’t know how to say it.“He’s being modest. Extremely modest.” Dr. Strange speaks up from across the aisle, eyes closed and head tilted to the ceiling as though sleeping. “Mr. Parker is the reason that we’re here today, and the reason that we’ve remained alive to this point. Without the technology he scrapped together, the guerilla attacks he planned against the slave colonies- there wouldn’t be a resistance.” Dr. Strange opens his eyes and shifts his head to look at Tony and Peter. “He is the technical and tactical mind behind the remaining resistance against Thanos. Without him, our world wouldn’t stand a chance.” Tony doesn’t know what to think of that, so he tries to break the tension. “Well Peter, when I left you yesterday the most I expected from you was a high score on Mario Kart. Now you’re a world savior. Kids really do grow up fast, I guess.” Peter looks down at his hands. Dr. Strange goes back to feigning sleep. Tony doesn’t blame them.Again, silence. Peter closes his eyes.Tony takes the time to study him, really study him, out of the corner of his eye. His eyes skip over the stubble, the hair that’s almost too long, and the scars. He moves down to study the suit. It’s black, of course- all black- made of some material that looks thicker than spandex. There looks to be some metallic material threaded through it, perhaps to make the fabric more resilient. It takes a while, but Tony notices the way Peter hold his shoulder- as if it isn’t quite comfortable in any position. Even his physique is different. Tony can’t imagine that this post- apocalyptic world has much to offer in terms of protein, but this Peter is easily bigger than the one Tony left at home. His chest is wider, arms full- clearly defined muscles layer his entire body.Tony ponders how he got the scars, how he built that strength. He wonders what else the world has left at Peter Parker’s feet. About half an hour later, Tony hears Peter whisper- it’s first time he’s sounded like himself, the first time he’s heard anything other than a gravelly monotone from this Peter.“You left,” said Peter, quietly, still staring at his hands like he’s trying to set them on fire.More silence, Tony not sure if he imagined that or what-“You left me alone in the compound before your trip to DC, I didn’t hear anything for weeks. Nothing from Pepper, nothing from Happy. Then there are these reports on the news, about explosions and fights and cities going down in flames all around the world. I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do, other than to hold the city together as best I could.” He swallows, eyes dragging up to the ceiling of the jet. “May was gone within the first couple weeks, so was Ned. They brought down pretty much every building in the city.” He blinks, eyes still stuck somewhere above him. “Dr. Strange found me eventually, and we did what we could. We stayed hidden, launched small attacks where we thought it’d hurt Thanos and his guys the most. We protected the time stone, Dr. Strange said that was the most important thing. At least for a while.” Peter’s eyes finally met Tony’s. “But then Thanos still managed to kill around half the earth, and for the rest of the people that were still around…” Peter shook his head. “From then on, it was survival. There’s not much left of the earth, other than the slave colonies. Small pockets of civilization, yeah. Some rebel holdouts, stuff like that.”Tony is staring straight ahead. He can’t imagine this, imagine his kid shoulder-to-shoulder with some wizard, trying to take on the world as it turns to ash in front of him…“It’s not all bad,” Peter whispers, staring at Tony. Tony makes eye contact, and this time he can’t break it. “I mean, it’s…awful, yeah. But there’s still life. There’s still…there’s still some hope out there.”“How can you say that? If everything you’re saying is true- and I believe you now, I do- what do you have left?” Tony’s voice is a whisper, to match Peter’s.Peter turns to Dr. Strange, who nods once. “Tell him, Pete. He needs to understand…why.”Tony sees a small smile spread across Peter’s face, and is shocked by the way it transforms the man. He can see the 17-year old in his smile, in the way his eyes shine. The scars almost melt away. Peter digs into a pocket hidden in his chest, withdrawing a wrinkled square of paper, handing it to Tony.It’s a dark picture, printed on thin paper, obviously not a studio job. A young woman with dark hair curled past her shoulders stands with a child at her knee, one on her hip. All three are grinning at the camera. Tony looks a little closer- they’re not dressed particularly well, they’re a little on the skinny and dirty side, but they look… happy.Peter interrupts before Tony can get his thoughts together, speaking in the fast way that he’s used to from Young Peter. “We were young, yeah, and maybe it wasn’t the most intentional decision- for AJ, at least- but I don’t know where I would be without them. I was alone, and then Michelle found me, and I wasn’t. They’re the reason I’m here, Mr. Stark-“ he looks up at him with intentional eyes, no longer smiling but determined- “and they’re the reason we have to win. I’m not going home until I know their future will be different.”