Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was no surprise when Spider-Man turned down yet another invitation to meet up with the (remaining) team after a mission.

Peter, with whom no one had much contact with, often showed up on missions taking place in the city, catching wind of them and appearing onsite.

Occasionally, especially when it came to unexpected disturbances or Peter wasn't able to alert them with enough time for them to get there, they'd show up to the end of a fight or to find an already defeated villain of Peter's. On occasion, they'd even find a few other vigilante's from the area helping out.

On this particular mission, Peter had been fighting alone, and the team had caught the tail end of a fight Peter had managed to steer out of Manhattan.

"Would these guys quit it with the building collapses," Peter muttered under his breath as the dust cleared and he stared out at the damage.

"We all got out, that's what matters."

"Yeah, well I try real hard not to be in them after the first."

"Wait, what?" Sam's attention snapped to Peter, along with a couple of other faces, but Peter had already moved past, replacing an empty cartridge in his web shooters. He did that a lot- muttering comments to himself, never really meant for others to hear but never really caring if they did. Natasha thought he might spend a lot of time alone.

"Should we call Tony and let him know we're not coming?"

"Who says we're not coming?" Clint asked, genuine confusion on his face. "The kids are halfway there. They've been looking forward to it all week."

"We can debrief after dinner," Steve decided for the team. "I'm sure Tony won't mind if we use the conference room."

Peter snapped the cart into his wristband and several eyes turned to the Spider themed hero paying seemingly no attention to the conversation.

"Spidey?" Rhodney spoke up first.

"Huh?" He was making strides with that selective listening. It was nice to turn his ears off when subjects hurt too much.

"You got Christmas eve plans?"

"Not religious," Peter replied in short.

"Tag along then," Natasha told him as she approached, a hand landing on his back.

"I'm okay. You guys enjoy your evening." There was always something in Peter's voice that got them when he spoke. It wasn't his age, though they could tell he was young. There was a sadness- a deep sadness, and an ever-present longing for something he couldn't have. His responses were short, and genuine, but he seemed for the most part, to be disinterested in getting to know them.

Natasha, reading the sadness in the boys voice, didn't take no for an answer, encouraging him to tag along, and Steve didn't hesitate to step in and remind the boy he'd missed almost every debriefing, and being their main source for knowing what the hell went down as Peter was there for entire fight, the soldier insisted he come.

"I don't have clothes or anything," Peter stated as he shuffled onto the quinjet behind the rest of them, and less enthusiastically.

"You can borrow Tony's," Rhodney announced a few feet ahead, looking back to see the boy had just removed his mask, his attention snapping from the exploration of the inside of the jet to Rhodney. "Have you been to Tony's?" Natasha suddenly asked, peering back at Peter. All eyes were on the kid, who appeared far too young to have been in Germany all those years ago. They knew Peter had snapped, but even then, it'd been years since Germany.

The boys head dropped and he shook his head as he fiddled with the mask in his hand.

"No," he replied quietly before looking towards the seats and then heading to take one, ignoring the stares. As they sped towards the lake house, it was unusually quiet for a mission that'd had gone well, but he knew why. It was only confirmation when Clint finally asked,

"So how old are you, kid?"

"Eighteen, sir." The math didn't take long, and Steve found himself blurting out from the front of the plain.

"I could have crushed a literal child?" He asked, knowing Peter had to have blipped for this to make any sense. Peter laughed, lightly.

"No hard feelings."

"Are you in college?" Natasha inquired, friendly but an urge to know more about their teammate who'd kept so quiet for so long. She was relieved he seemed to be open to responding to what was asked, but his answers remained short and vague.

"I'm saving up."

"Working?" Peter replied with a solid nod. The boy was off-putting. There was something incredibly familiar with him, so much so that they were almost sure he'd taken off his mask before, because not a soul on the jet found his face recognizable. Even when finding out his age, it came as a surprise because of his capabilities, but somewhere deep in them, they felt like they knew he was younger than they'd like to believe. And on the topic of age, the boy sitting in front of them had seen far too much for nineteen, and it was evident. Natasha had about a dozen more questions, along with the rest of the team, who struggled to tear their eyes away, but Peter's own eyes had drifted out the window as he detached himself from his physical presence.

He didn't speak for the rest of the trip.

He was the last off the plane once it had landed and followed a few steps behind once more. Natasha slowed down until he caught up to her, and walked alongside the boy who seemed hesitant on the path to the house.

"You know, I'm surprised you were willing to remove your mask. I'm glad you did, you can trust us. But why after all these years?" She inquired, the questions burning a hole in her mind.

"Well, I didn't think it would result in as much staring as it did." She laughed, lightly, and he gave a small smile as he took in the sound of it and he smile. There it was again- that longing look he gave her, like she was just out of reach. But she was right there! She wished he'd explain the profound sadness behind his eyes, but he looked ahead.

Pepper answered the door, a young girl on her hip, about five years old. Peter almost lost his footing at the sight of Morgan, over a year older than the last time he'd seen her. His heart ached when his eyes fell on Pepper, who smiled brightly at the familiar faces on her doorstep, greeting them all with excitement and warmth. Peter felt his heart settle in his stomach, a permanent twisting of his insides making him want to vomit at the familiar face. He'd only seen Pepper on the television since the world had forgotten him. Tony too, once or twice. Morgan, he'd studied a photo of before tucking it away with the rest of the photo from his former life, but it was one still moment and nothing compared to the living and breathing Morgan Stark only fifteen feet away.

Suddenly the events of the summer after his sophomore year were unavoidable in his mind. Everything had finally been perfect. A few months after he returned, Tony had awoken awake, and while he was no longer in any state to continue on as Ironman, retirement gave him plenty of time for his family, which Peter had been adopted into more intensely than ever before. They'd had a good seven months before Peter's school trip and the identity reveal. At least he'd made his friends lives easier now that they didn't have to deal with all the controversy and the danger he put them in by association. That didn't mean the pain from the last year- watching them without him, seeing them get into Columbia and enjoy their senior year- went away. And seeing Morgan and Pepper now reminded him just how real his memories were.

Pepper stepped back to let everyone in as Natasha and Peter made their way up the steps.

She greeted Natasha warmly before her attention turned to the boy behind him, with glossy eyes and a heartbreaking smile. Her own smile faltered at the sight of him, and he read it as the same surprise the team had experienced with the sight of him without a mask.

"Hi there," she greeted him kindly.

"Hi, Mrs.Potts. It's nice to meet you." He held out a hand for her to shake. "I'm Peter." Her smile fell at that, the blood rapidly rushing from her face for a long moment. Peter retracted his hand, resuming fiddling with his mask as worry spread over his face. Catching sight in the change of his demeanor, she realized her own shock had taken over and quickly apologized, reaching out to shake his hand. The whole action felt wrong.

As he stepped inside, he looked to the little girl.

"And you must be Morgan." Morgan nodded, a smile on her face. "How old are you, Morgan?"

"I'm six!"

"You're six years old?" He asked like it was the most shocking thing in the world. She nodded, the smile on her face growing. "No way. Six years? Are you sure?"

"My birthday was last month."

"Was it, now? How'd you celebrate?"

"Daddy took me to the stables and let me name my own horse. I named him Potato." Now Peter's smile grew bigger, though his eyes never lit up.

"I'll tell you what, Morgan. I've met a couple of horses, and I've never meet one with such an awesome name. I might just have to steal that name for my cat."

"You have a cat?" Morgan asked, eyes wide, and had Pepper not been so concentrated on studying Peter's face, she would have interjected about how much Morgan had been begging for a cat.

"I do but he doesn't have a name yet. I call him Cheez-It." The little girl giggled.

"Why?"

"Because he got into my Cheez-It's." She laughed again.

"I like Cheez-it. You should keep that name." Pepper hadn't even realized they hadn't moved from the door, tied up in the interaction between the two kids, and only now set down the little girl.

"Can I show you my toys?" She asked him.

"Maybe in a bit. I think I should get out of my pajama's right now."

"Those aren't pajamas. It's your suit! Like daddy's suit. You're Spider-Man." Peter lifted a finger to his lips and she smiled wider.

"Don't worry, Peter. I won't tell anyone who you are," she told him before running off. Peter smiled as she retreated into the living room, catching sight of a figure hovering in the entrance to the room. His smile faltered as he raised his eyes to meet a familiar face.

"Mr.Stark," he greeted the man, standing with his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe, but jaw slack, looking much like Pepper had when he'd introduced himself. "It's good to see you. How's retirement treating you?"

"It's incredibly boring," he stated, pushing himself to stand straight and taking a few steps towards the kid. "Peter, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Huh." Peter gave him a quizzical look. "Just nice to have your name after a decade." Peter winced at the mention of how long it'd been since they met, seeing how Tony hadn't blipped. "Can I get you a change of clothes?" He asked, looking over the suit he hadn't created. Peter nodded a little.

"Please," he asked kindly. Tony caught his eyes, the sadness flooding Peter's making his own heart sink.

By the time Tony returned, Pepper and Peter were in the living room along with the rest. The house was packed, Cassie, Peter, Lila, and Cooper chatting separately from the rest if the group as the younger kids ran around the house and the adults sat on the furniture.

"Peter," Tony drew his attention, and Peter turned to see the man with the stack of clean clothing.

"Thank you, Mr.Stark. I really appreciate it." Peter took the clothing from him and started towards the restroom without direction. Tony watched as he dipped inside without hesitation, and wasted no time slipping off to the kitchen where he found Pepper already there, standing with the framed photo in her hands.

"It's him," she whispered, softly, passing the frame to Tony as he approached the counter. He gripped the edges as he studied the photo of him and the kid who was unmistakably the same kid he'd just retrieved clothing for. Only, the child in the photo looked happy and healthy, while Peter's untamed curls had grown long, his face had sunken in, and his eyes were filled with torment, sadness, and a painful remaining glimmer of hope he couldn't seem to get rid of no matter how hard he tried.

"He knew where the bathroom was."

"You think he's..." she trailed off, eyes flicking upstairs to reference the room they had no explanation for.

"I don't know what I think anymore." Because yes, having  you have a room in your house- a room with notebooks and colored pens and lego's, with Star Wars posters and science t-shirts, a pictures of people FRIDAY identified as seniors at a high school in Queen's (minus the one kid who wasn't identified at all), but no recollection as to who this belongs to or why it's in your house, and a gaping hole in your heart that you can't understand, can make you question what you know and think.

Peter reemerged a moment later in a long sleeve t-shirt that extended past his hands, and sweatpants tightly tied around his waist to avoid them falling off of his slim frame. Too slim, if you asked the adults taking note of his collarbone harshly jutting out against his skin where the shirt was too big to cover.

Cassie wasted no time recruiting him back into their conversation.

"I'm gonna squash him," Scott commented, noticing their gaze as he approached the counter from the other side.

"What?"

"Like a bug. You see, the problem with getting stuck in the quantum realm for five years is I come back, and my eleven year old daughter is grown up and dating."

"You think Cassie likes Peter?"

"Are you kidding. He's got the whole dark and mysterious thing going on. I don't understand why she can't just go for the sweet open-book type."

"He might not be an open book but he is sweet," Pepper commented, like she knew him from more than just a few minutes. When she looked back over at the teen, she found her own daughter hanging on his arm and Cassie twirling her hair.

"Sorry, I'm late," Happy's voice drew their attention to the man in the doorway, Sam just a step behind, having let him in. With a few gifts tucked under his arm, he greeted Morgan, who'd dragged Peter along with her. The boys face had gone pale once more as he stumbled along.

Tony hadn't realized, but his legs had already led him across the room to meet Happy, who didn't spare him a glance once his eyes landed on Peter. Morgan was still jumping up and down as Happy cocked his head.

"Hey, you're the kid from the graveyard..." Happy trailed off, recognizing his features immediately. Morgan stopped jumping, sensing a change in the mood. "Peter, right?"

Happy had seen Peter over a dozen times now. He'd watched Peter grow thinner and tireder. The grief never left his eyes. He tried to strike up conversation on occasion, but he'd realized that was the best way to get Peter to leave and he didn't want the kid to feel like he couldn't be there. They were content in each others presence, so long as Happy didn't inquire.

"Yes, sir."

"How are you?"

"Fine, sir. I-um, I'm gonna see if anyone needs help." He scurried away the moment he could without sparing them another glance.

"What was that about?" Tony asked, once Peter was out of earshot. Well, to a typical person.

"He's the kid I told you about. The one that I keep seeing at May's grave. What's he doing here?" Before Tony could respond, Happy came to a realization. "Wait, is he Spider-Man? I had some suspicions, I mean he said he knew her through Spider-Man and well, the guy was there when she died." Tony remembered hearing the story from Happy. How there was a disturbance in the building. Something to do with Spider-Man and a group of monster's he'd been fighting. Witnesses reported Spider-Man had redirected explosive, but May was still killed. By the time Happy got there, she was dead and he found Spider-Man crouched over her body. He'd left when SWAT began shooting at the spider. Happy never blamed him- after all, Spider-Man had fought against Thanos and saved Tony's ass during the move. He knew Spider-Man didn't kill Mysterio but that Mysterio had gotten himself killed with Stark's tech. He knew the kid always tried to do what was best for the most people, so he never blamed the him. Still, he wouldn't be surprised if he blamed himself.

"He is," Tony confirmed, having no worries about Happy outing the boy's identity. Happy sighed and the confirmation of his suspicions. He'd really been hoping otherwise.

Peter mostly seemed to avoid conversation as much as possible, until dinner was ready. He chatted with the older kids set Nathaniel and Morgan up making Christmas cards for their parents, much to the adults relief, and even joining in for a while, before moving on to aid Steve and Pepper in filling the dishes and moving the food to the set table.

Tony was shocked when Scott got distracted and Peter offered to finish making his drink.

"Are you even old enough to drink?"

"I bartended for a while." Peter explained before disappearing once more. Tony found the kids on their fourth card, copying the flowers off of the card Peter had left behind.

'Aunt May'

It read on the front.

His mind was drawn back to Happy, and he was quick to draw a connection. Perhaps Peter was her niece.

He flipped it open, ignoring his daughters protest and finding only a few words on the inside.

'Merry Christmas, Aunt May. I miss you, forever and always.

Until I see you again,

Peter B. Parker'

He swallowed, heavily.

Parker, as in May Parker.

He closed it so Morgan could continue.

"Daddy?" She asked, stopping the man before he could exit the room.

"Yes Morgs?"

"Did Peter used to live in the room across the hall?" He felt his heart skip a beat and drew in a breath. It was too much for him. Too much wondering, two many questions. Like he had half the puzzle pieces, but he couldn't form a picture with them.

"I don't know, Morgs." When he returned to the main party, they were flowing into the dinning room, and he didn't miss how Pepper was leading him to the end of the table where the two of them would be sitting for the duration of the meal.

"Kid's, foods ready," he called back into the study before approaching the chair at the end of the table, Pepper on one side, Peter on the other. Morgan flew past him, crawling onto the chair next to Peter.

"Morgan, I think Aunt Nat was gonna sit there," he told his daughter, who'd cut off the spy on her way to the seat, but Nat brushed it off and took the one on the other side next to Pepper instead.

Morgan talked his ear off about the Harry Potter movies while he served the two of them, interrupting only to ask her if she wanted something as it was passed around. He helped her scoop out the mashed potatoes, keeping the mess to a minimum, but allowing her to serve her own plate with his help.

"You're good with kids," Tony observed.

"I have a cousin around Morgan's age," he explained, without looking at his mentor, passing the bowl along.

"Mommy, can I have some milk, please."

"Morgan, I asked you ten minutes ago if you wanted milk," Pepper stated, slightly frustrated.

"Please." Pepper sighed and placed her napkin on the table to get up, but Peter held a hand up.

"I can get it, I was going to grab some ice anyways," he offered before standing on his own.

They peered into the kitchen, watching as Peter retrieved an one of Morgan's cups without even having to guess which cabinet they were in. As he poured her milk, Tony frowned at the small amount of food on Peter's plate and shuffled more on.

Peter noticed, but he didn't say anything because Tony was already pretending he hadn't.

"So, Peter," Tony began, putting on his best everything-is-normal face. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen, sir," he answered the same question as he had on the jet.

"College?"

"Working. Maybe in the future," the boy replied.

"Oh, what do you do?" Tony inquired.

"Well, I mostly make coffee."

"Intern or starbucks?"

"Both, actually. I work a few jobs," he admitted.

"On top being of Spider-Man? Do you sleep.?" Peter laughed, lightly.

"When I can." Taking a bite of his food, he commented on Tony's cooking.

"Pepper's families recipe," he credited his wife. The conversation turned into a brief discussion of how Pepper had never been fond of cooking. As Pepper spoke, she had the feeling the things she said were known to the boy, but he listened anyways. He listened to Tony gloat about Morgan's marks and how well she'd danced in her ballet school's Nutcracker production and Peter happily watched the video clips, though his eyes still held indescribable weight. 

The boys genuine interest intrigued Tony, who usually knew when to stop with the videos because other people just didn't understand how special his kid was. But Peter smiled and watched like he was sorry not to have been there.

Morgan talked about wanting to be a ballerina when she grew up, of course along with being an astronaut and a journalist, all of which Peter condoned and encouraged.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" She asked him, shoveling mashed potatoes into her mouth.

"I don't know yet, Morgs." The casual nickname did not go unnoticed.

"Where do you intern?" Pepper inquired, in attempt to get some sense of his direction.

"At a law firm in Hell's Kitchen."

"Daddy says we shouldn't say h-e-double hockey sticks." Peter laughed a little and Morgan continued. "You could be a lawyer! I want to be a lawyer when I get older."

"You'd make a great lawyer."

"You interested in law?" Asked Tony, turning the conversation back to the boy who seemed to welcome any topic that didn't have to do with him.

"Not particularly, but it pays."

"What do you like?" Asked Morgan from the other side of him. His heart threatened to speed up as the world around him as the world around him grew louder and smaller, but he stayed calm.

"I like science. Physics, mostly." The adults heads turned to one another at the knowledge of the science t-shirts and the physics books upstairs, equations sprawled out in the notebook. Peter turned back to his dish, mostly pushing the food around the plate by now, feeling too overwhelmed to eat.

"Pete," Tony interrupted Peter in his attempt to regroup. "Have we- have we met... outside of Spider-Man- I mean..." He stammered, unsure of how to phrase the question on his mind, because at this point, he thought he, Pepper, and Morgan might collectively be going crazy. It seemed more logical than any other explanation. "Do I know you?" Peter gulped, heavily, eyes trained to the tablecloth. He shook his head, his heart heavy on his chest and his body racked with grief as he shook his head and forced out a weak,

"No, sir." Tony sighed, standing and retrieving the photograph for the image while Peter sat unnaturally still in the seat. Tony pushed the dish away just enough to set down the photograph in front of him. Peter's eyes fixed onto it and the shock was evident on his face for so little time before he covered it, that Tony was only half sure he'd seen it. Peter pushed the frame back towards Tony.

"I interned at SI. I was lower level, but we met once. I didn't think you would remember."

"Then why do I have this photo?" Tony asked, not believing that was the whole truth. The photo confirmed both that they'd met and that Peter was an intern, but there was so much more that didn't make sense.

"I- I don't know, sir." Peter bit down on his lip, and hard, breaking through the skin. At the sharp pain, he lifted his finger to his lip and pulled it back to find a streak of blood.

"I'll uh- I'll be right back." He started towards the restroom rather quickly, only for Natasha to call out and stop him to inform him that someone was already in there. When Peter looked back at Natasha, he looked sickly, pale as the tablecloth, tired, and overwhelmed. Tears were swimming in his wild eyes. Seeing he needed an exit, Pepper offered,

"You can use the one upstairs."

"Thank you, Mrs.Pott's." Peter quickly muttered, speaking quick enough to hide the shakiness of his voice. He was off in only a moment, rounding the corner and rushing up the steps.

Chapter Text

Tony was only moments behind, despite Pepper's protests, warning the man that she should leave the boy alone.

He couldn't, so he was at the top of the stairs within thirty seconds.

Peter paid no attention to the approaching steps. He was busy staring at the closed door, a blue page of construction paper with his name messily sprawled out in large capitals, with stickers all around. His seventeenth birthday present from Morgan, long before Tony had woken from his coma the previous winter. It was curling at the edges now, the paper aged but remaining on the door.

"You can go in," Tony spoke up, standing still at the top of the stairs. Peter didn't look towards the man, and for a moment, Tony thought he might just walk away, but then Peter stepped forward, reaching for the handle, and carefully opened the door. As the boy stepped into the room, Tony replaced him in the doorway.

Peter took a few steps in, finding his bed hastily made, a few clothing items neatly folded on the end of his bed. On the other side was a desk, with tattered notebooks stacked up on top of a textbook or two. Above the desk was drawings and photographs. Upon spotting them, Peter snapped to life and took two steps up to the edge of the desk, lifting a hand to an image of a girl with long and brown, curly hair. He dragged his finger over it, and Tony didn't miss the way that look of longing Peter seemed to always sport intensified as he studied it. Then his eyes flashed to an image next to it, of her and a round-faced shorter boy with a wide smile. He pressed his lips together as his eyes stung under the fresh layer of tears coating them. He stepped to the side, reaching for another image, hardly still sticking to the wall. The photo was of a women in her thirties, mid laugh, with sunglasses on her head and the sun shinning down on her. It took little effort for him to pull the page from the wall.

Tony watched as Peter stumbled back a few steps, seeming to have forgotten all about the billionaires presence.

"This is your room, isn't it?" The man asked. A small nod. "Am I," he gulped, "am I your-"

"No," Peter answered, abruptly, shutting the idea down. Then he sniffled, softening. "No, you're not, don't worry." Tears spilled from his eyes and dripped down his cheek freely, his eyes trained to the photo.

"Then..." Tony trailed off, a few questions lingering in the air, though one that stood out to him- one he couldn't communicate- then why do I feel like it?

"You- you just kind of took me under your wing," Peter explained.

"I- I remember mentoring Spider-Man... why don't I remember you?" All of his memories around Spider-Man were hazy too, the voice distorted and several memories incomplete.

Before Tony could even think to move, Peter collapsed on the ground in the middle of the floor.

"Shit," Tony muttered, jumping forward, only to freeze up with no idea what to do from here. Peter pulled his knees into his chest and his arms over his head just as a heart wrenching sob broke through his every last attempt to restrain it. Tony lowered himself to the ground, slowly leaning back against the desk, across from the boy, who continued to hide his face as he struggled for control. He was able to restain the sobs, but his body fought against him on small hiccup-like gasps for air as tears streamed freely.

"I'm sorry," he finally choked out for a minute.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I'm crying. In your house. And you have no idea who I am- or who's room this is. I shouldn't have come, I'm sorry."

"You know, Peter. I've been trying to figure this room out since I woke up. I thought I was crazy. And then I thought Pepper and Morgan might have been crazy too. I looked for you. PBP- the initials on a few of your things. That's all I had. And your friends from Midtown but there was no record of someone at that school with your initials. You showing up here- it was a gift." Peter shook his head, denying it. He was no gift and he was sure of it. He could never be what Tony was searching for.

"I don't have answers for you." If he dared to unravel that tangled mess, it would only bring more questions and confusion.

"The only question that I need an answer to to be able to sleep at night is that whoever lived in this room is safe and healthy and okay. Still alive."

"Mr.Stark, that's sweet and all but I'm calling your bluff. You don't sleep." Tony's eyebrows pinched together.

"You know that about me," he commented the realization hitting him. He might not remember who lived there, but the boy who did remembered him. A complete and whole picture that included details about the man, much like his house- where the bathroom was and Morgan's cups and probably the kid herself. Had they met? Peter let his legs relax into a criss crossed position as he explained,

"I-um, I used to stay here sometimes. I used to get nightmares. Every night. And when they were really bad, I'd get up, and I'd go to the garage." His eyes were trained to the ground, his voice shaking when he spoke, but he seemed less sad when recalling tge memory. "And nine out of ten times, you'd be there, working late. You were a stickler about me going to bed at a decent time. Insisted if you left it to me, I'd stay up until you would have to scrape me off the pavement cause I'd fall asleep while swinging. But when I came in after a nightmare, you never said a thing about it. There was this playlist you had that calmed me down. All songs that just made it easy to stop thinking. You'd switch that on and let me work on whatever. I'd usually fall asleep on that grey couch in the back corner. You kept a blanket there for me. You got them for Morgan and I when you were on a trip." Tony nodded, knowing the couch and knowing the blanket. "Hers was green and mine was red. Sometimes you'd fall asleep at your workbench. Usually you got to bed but sometimes we shared the couch. After a while- I- uh, I started laying on your chest. I'd listen to the arc reactor and it helped me fall asleep. You- you had nightmares too and- and you were afraid you'd hurt me when you woke up from them, but I always woke up first and I'd tell you about whatever really, because that's what you'd do when I had panic attacks and it always helped. We didn't get a lot of sleep, but, it made nights easier for both of us I think. For me at least. I'd like to think I helped you too," he whispered the last part.

"You did. I'm sure of it." Peter looked on with curiosity. "I sleep on that couch more often then my own bed. With that blanket. I didn't know when the habit began, but since I woke up from that coma, I always rested better there." Peter gave a small smile in response, glad the man had found some comfort. Glad the man believed him. Tony's heart broke for all the memories he'd lost, for the space in his heart he couldn't fill, and for the kid that remembered it all. For the kid who could only describe to Tony the way they'd grown together. The way Tony had once cared for him. For the kid who had to sit and watch Tony not remember any of it.

"How did I forget you, Peter?" Tony asked softly.

"I messed up. Dr.Strange- Stephen, he corrected himself. "He was helping me and I screwed it up. I had to make you forget me." Peter remained vague, half afraid Tony would think he was tripping if he word-vomited some shit about the multiverse and alternative versions of himself or something.

"What? How? Why did I have to forget you?"

"Everyone, sir," Peter said weakly, shrinking into himself as though the world was physically crushing him. "Everyone had to forget me." Tony wanted to let the cracks run through their course his heart under the realization, but he couldn't wrap his head around it.

"No one remembers you? No one remembers Peter Parker?" The younger shook his head in confirmation. "Your family?" Peter looked at the photo in his trembling hand, fighting the urge to break into sobs once more.

"They're gone." Then, more quietly, he whispered. "Because of me." Tony remembered May. Happy's story about how Spider-Man had been there and how he thought the kid blamed himself.

Peter sniffled and looked towards the wall beside him, where a drawing of a distressed Tony Stark was taped, from the time Peter had his friends to the lake house.

"I'm sorry to dumped that on you. You shouldn't worry about it."

"Well, I am worried. I'm extremely worried," Tony replied. "Where are you living?"

"I have an apartment." He didn't mention he'd been evicted from the respectable living space and was now living in a stingy basement, where the mold made him sicker each night and the water was excruciatingly cold. "And a job I like." He didn't mention how the rent cost more than he could pay to have money left for food. Before Matt and Wade been found passed out and half starving and Wade hooked him up with a bartending job, or when Matt hired Peter to help out while their firm grew. Now he used Matt's shower, now he had friends (only the enhanced who could surely protect themselves from his luck), and now he was consuming the average amount of calories (well, maybe for a non-enhanced five-year-old). "It's really not so bad," he lied, because even if once or twice he had Matt to hold him in the toughest hours of the night, he was completely and utterly alone, and that would never change. Surely, he would destroy anyone he got close to.

"You look..." hid eyes flickered over him, "unwell." Peter furrowed his eyebrows and then broke into a small laugh.

"That was a very polite way to put it, Mr.Stark."

"Look, I don't know if being here is helping or hurting, but I'd like you to stay the night. Spend Christmas with us. And if it's too hard, I'll leave you alone. But if you can, I'd like you to come home."

"Mr.Stark, you don't have to offer that. I'm okay. You don't need to invite a stranger into my house, you're not responsible for me."

"Peter, if you know me, then you know I'm not the type to go around inviting strangers into my house. Clearly, I wanted you here before." He didn't mention how desperately he wanted him there now. How protective he felt of the boy. "You're not a stranger."

"It's hard to look at you, Mr.Stark. Because you don't look at me the same way you did." It wasn't that he couldn't see Tony cared, because he could. But he didn't know.

"I can't imagine that. And I know it's not fare when I'm on the other end- but you- you fit the shape of something that went missing in this family and- I just don't want to lose you again. Not yet. I understand if you want to leave. But please, consider staying the night. Don't wake up alone on Christmas morning." There was a pause before Peter replied.

"Fine... but only because you got sappy," Peter teased.

"It's called communication. I've spent the better part of a decade in therapy learning to do it."

"It's called persuasion," he corrected.

"I've been told I'm skilled." Peter smiled a little.

"I believe you've been out-skilled by your own blood. I can hear the cat in your basement."

"That was not a fair match. She did the whole puppy dog eye thing, kind of like you do-" he stopped, noticing the way the kid jumped at the mention of a behavior he hadn't exhibited that day. Tony too, seemed confused by the statement.

"They're putting the dishes away," Peter stated, hearing it with ease, and Tony noted to be careful what he said if Peter was in the house. Spider-Man had told him once that when he could hear everything, he couldn't hear anything. He had to focus, much like he had before his enhancements, only the scale of things to focus on was much wider.

He had quite a few memories of the kid, who'd followed him to space and dusted under his hands. He just figured someone who hadn't outed his identity didn't want to be close. If he had no recollection of an identity reveal, it fell into the background, as insignificant as every other possibility of how this mysterious room had come to be a part of their house but not their memories.

"Don't worry about it?" Tony told the kid who was adjusting to climb to his feet. "Why don't you take some time and come downstairs when you're ready?" Peter nodded a little, gratefully.

"Thank you, Mr.Stark." Tony, for the maybe thirtieth time that evening, desperately wanted to correct Peter, but he held back, a deep sense that he could correct Peter until the end of the time and the boy would surely never drop the name. For some reason, he didn't mind it so much. Normally, it felt all too professional, but from Peter, it felt like some sort of term of endearment or something. So he didn't say anything.

Chapter Text

It took around thirty minutes for Peter to come back downstairs. After asking if he could use the bathroom to take a shower, which he did whilst fighting off a panic attack, he then changed into his own clothing, finding they didn't fit him particularly well anymore either. He was relieved to find Ben's old crewneck tucked away in the bottom drawer of the dresser and pulled it on before exploring the room a little further. He found notes from his friends and doodles of suit designs and shoved the drawers to the desk shut before he could get lost in the memories of a happier time. It would only end with him bedridden with grief and he had to get downstairs.

When he reemerged downstairs, he looked frighteningly young. When he'd initially taken his mask off, he'd looked at most twenty, but the bags under his eyes and the stories clearly tucked away inside him had made him look older. Now, a fear and innocence pooled in. A tattered innocence. Young, but knowing.

Not to mention he was tiny.

Morgan climbed in his lap the moment he sat down and well Tony gave her a warning, Peter didn't mind. She played with her doll as the adults chatted, and Peter sat still, eyes wandering around the room, a sad smile on his face as he studied the people he once knew, like an audience member, watching the screen from somewhere far from where the conversation was happening.

Morgan drifted off in his arms rather quickly, as it was growing late and despite the girls excitement over Christmas, she'd been up late the night before, excited about the company.

Tony doubted Peter had even realized he was rubbing her back as she slept with her arms hung around his neck. His eyes were fixed on the coffee table as his own exhaust took over, and his smile fell. He looked a million miles away, and Tony had no idea how to reach him.

With a sharp inhale, Peter seemed to snap out of it, looking at the girl in his arms and then over at his parents. If he noticed they'd already been staring, he didn't say anything. Instead he nudged his head up, signaling upstairs, and Pepper nodded, rising from her seat. Peter followed her up, not wanting to wake Morgan with an extra transfer. Besides, Morgan may have been light, but to Peter, she was a literal feather. He left Pepper to tuck her in and returned to find most of the team getting up and ready to leave, Morgan's sleepiness having seemed to set off a series of yawns from adults and children alike. Peter kindly thanked them all for coming to help earlier that day and wished them Happy Holiday's as the exited.

He didn't hesitate to start cleaning the mess left behind. In fact, he was so casual about it, that Tony didn't quite register what he was doing and simply began helping alongside him. It wasn't until Peter yawned that he realized. It had just been so natural.

But when the kid insisted he wasn't too tired to help, Tony wondered if he'd given up long ago, like he just might have with getting Peter to call him by his first name. For a moment, Tony wondered if having Peter around would be good for his daughter, whom he admittedly spoiled, but then again, it seemed Peter teated her like a princess as well.

The three of them cleaned up together with Christmas music playing quietly in the background. There were so many questions to he asked, but the peace demanded to last. Once the dishwasher was running and the trash bag was tied, Peter excused himself.

When Tony went to check on Morgan an hour or so later, before heading to bed himself, he lighly knocked on Peter's door as well, cracking it open. He found the kid was not in his bed, but curled up in a ball, sitting on the window sill. He surely heard him, but he didn't from the view of the lake lit up in the moonlight.

"Goodnight, Peter," he spoke, softly.

"Good night, Mr.Stark," Peter whispered in response.
——
Peter woke up shortly after Morgan the next morning, the sounds of an excited child on Christmas stirring him. Not wanting to intrude, Peter decided upon staying in his room, shifting over to his desk where he began thumbing through the notebook on top, wondering if he should do some problems to pass the time. He flicked the textbook open to the marked page, and then the notebook next to it.

He'd hardly begun writing out the problem and was already lost in the process . He missed school- not Flash and the busy hallways and the crappy chicken nuggets- but he missed the way his mind quieted when he worked out a problem. When he could apply a formula and get an answer. Before having superpowers, math had been like a superpower.

He blocked out the voices in Tony and Pepper's bedroom as Morgan excitedly woke them, and didn't catch on until small knocks on his door drew his attention. Morgan came flying in, expecting to find Peter in his bed, but flew to his desk when she found him there instead.

"Peter, it's Christmas! You can't do homework!" She told him, clearly disappointed in his actions as she grabbed his arm.

"Come downstairs!" She demanded, tugging on his sleeve. Tony raised his eyes to meet the couple hovering in his doorway.

"Princesses orders," Tony said with a shrug, letting his daughter do all the work for him. Peter bit his lip, taking one last look at the textbook before letting himself be dragged out of the room, whilst telling Morgan how strong she was.

Somehow that ended with Morgan jumping on his back because he's Spider-Man.

"Morgs, you gotta tell me before you do that, okay? I don't want to drop you by accident," he told her, kindly but firmly, causing Pepper to raise her eyebrows at Peter's comfort with the young girl, acting like a concerned brother.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I'll ask next time."

"Thank you, Mo." It was not the first time the nickname had been uttered by the boy and they were sure of it. "Should we go see what Santa brought you?"

"Yeah!" Peter brought he downstairs, setting her down on the couch and offering to make the coffee. Pepper denied but when he reminded her he was a barista and made a killer cup, she relented.

"Peter! Where's your stocking?" Morgan asked him as he scooped out the coffee grounds over in the kitchen.

"It's at my house," he lied.

"Are you going to open it with your family?" She asked, innocently. Tony swore his heart stopped. After activating the noise canceling walls downstairs after Peter had left, Tony had filled Pepper in, and he was certain he wasn't the only one with eyes as wide as Texas when Morgan asked the question.

Peter gulped, having no response to that. His eyes fell to the counter and he continued what he'd been doing.

Tony fed Morgan a scone to distract her from Peter's silence, but he found himself gazing back at Peter, who silently closed up the bag of coffee grounds.

Morgan opened her stocking, delighted by each and every toy and sweet before moving onto the gifts under the tree.

The cat of course, she was most excited about. She named him Whiskey, much to the adults amusement.

Peter sipped his coffee, knees pulled to his chest as he watched on, his face resting in a small smile, as though that would ward off Tony and Pepper's concern.

He spoke only when Morgan addressed him directly.

Tony leaned over at one point to ask if he was okay, and Peter nodded a little.

He was surprised when a gift was slipped into his hands, and in great contrast to Morgan's unwrapping style, he carefully pealed back the wrapping.

"We didn't have a lot of time but, I figured you might like that since you had a lot of designs in your notebooks. Tony dragged his fingers over the book, a deep red with black groves running through it to create a design. He flipped it open to find graphing paper inside."

"I love it," he told them, truthfully, blinking away the tears at the thought of how ming it'd been since he'd received a gift. "Thank you."

"I told you not to go crazy," he picked up on Pepper whispering to her husband.

"I didn't know what you needed. But a laptop, phone, anything you need- just ask. It's no trouble, really." Peter thanked him, but as expected, informed the billionaire he didn't need anything, which the man didn't buy for a second, but Pepper didn't let him push. Peter had a feeling she was the reason for the relatively modest gift, seeing how this was Tony Stark. He was grateful for that, overwhelmed enough as it was.

It was twenty minutes later, when Peter was outside helping Morgan build a snowman in the freshly fallen snow, that Tony caught sight of Peter's phone, left inside. The screen was shattered, several glass shards missing, despite it being a rather durable phone. In fact, as he inspected it, he realized it wasn't even on the market. It was a custom built Stark phone.

He wouldn't put it past Peter to drop it from some high rise or get shot with it in his pocket. Then he wondered why he felt so sure of it. It was uncomfortable, having clues in the same mind that was failing him. Clues that he knew more than he could remember.

He flickered the device on, and it lit up with the time. The only notifications were news reports from the last several hours. He was relieved to find a few texts, knowing at least Peter had someone who'd texted him on Christmas.

WW:
SPIDEY! YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT I SAW LAST NIGHT
IT WAS MOMMY
SHE WAS KISSING SANTA CLAUSE

Kendall:
Can you pick up my shift tomorrow?

Karen (WORK ONLY):
Merry Christmas! If you're lonely, my offer still stands. Just come by!

Foggy (WORK ONLY):
Merry Christmas, Peter
We'd still love to have you if your up for it
Matt says to call him when you can

He furrowed his eyebrows at the names labeled 'work only' but ultimately let it be.

Tony would never admit it, but he was ecstatic that enough snow picked up that he couldn't condone sending Peter home.

He was quite surprised to find that the kid "had somewhere to be," feeling comforted by the face that he at least had people.

That was at least until he discovered the place he had to be was sitting in a donut shop, keeping his ex-girlfriend company while she worked the holiday. Peter promised it wasn't as creepy as it sounded and Tony even heard a laugh out of the boy.

Peter stepped away to call Matt, but it didn't last for long. He spent about an hour after that tucked away in his room, needing some space, and when he returned, he was glad he had taken some time because Morgan was crawling all over him again and Pepper and Tony had questions rising to the surface. He could see it in their eyes.

"Hey, Mo, can you do me a favor at get started on that lego set we were gonna build? I'll be up in a little bit to help you," Peter asked the girl once she'd had a little time to show him the toys she'd gotten set up while he was upstairs. Tony wasn't surprised that Peter knew they wanted to talk to him. He was rather perceptive.

He also remembered that Peter knew them better than they realized. After spending countless hours with them, he could read them like a book.

Tony settled onto the other side of the coach, Pepper in the arm chair, while Peter sat criss-cross, pulling at his sleeves.

"What do you want to know?" He asked in a small voice after a minute under their gaze. Without hesitation, Tony asked,

"Are you okay?" Peter could almost laugh at the question, but he didn't.

"It's a lot.... Are you okay?" He asked back.

"Yeah."

"Can you- can you tell us about your life, maybe? We'd like to get to know you if that's alright with you." Peter bit his lip, the silence filling the room more quickly than his brain could move.

"I'm not- I'm not really someone people get to know,” he informed them. “People get hurt when they know me.” The boy sunk into the corner of the couch, picking at his sleeves, which did nothing to make him appear old enough to be handling this kind of isolation.

"We can protect ourselves," Tony ensured him, undoubtedly.

"I know. But Morgan goes to school and ballet and soccer and you guys can't always be there."

"We have plenty of measures in place to protect Morgan. I think you know that. Besides. A few details about your life isn't going to put us in danger," Tony told him with just as much confidence as his last comment, but the kid still had panic in his eyes and Tony recalled the boys had said his entire family was dead. It made sense he would he so scared to let anyone near him, never mind someone he already cared so deeply about.

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know, I just get apprehensive. I mean, I know I can leave when the roads clear up, and I don't ever have to turn back. I just don't want to make that harder to do, and I don't want to make things worse if I follow through." Tony's heart sunk in his chest at the thought of the kid leaving and never coming back. At the thought that he was planning to never come back.

"Then can you give us something. Something to know about you." He hesitated, gulping, but the two adults looked on with great curiosity and yearning.

Pepper interjected with the same request worded in a way more inclined to make Peter open up.

"We'd just like to know a little about who you are and what your life's like." She looked at him with great curiosity, but Peter saw the layer of desperation hidden below it when he looked in her eyes.

He took a deep breath with his eyes closed and nervously shifted to sit up a little straighter. The tremble in his voice was light, but heartbreaking. The kid was so afraid to share even the slightest things about himself, and it was painfully concerning.

"Okay... um, well, I work at Starbucks. I intern at Nelson and Murdock and um, I'm was a temp at some parking garage but I got fired yesterday... I have a cat. He was a stray and he followed me in a lot so... yeah. That's it." Peter never looked at them whilst he spoke, irking the older genius who was itching for more information.

"Do you have any friends?" Pepper asked, with a sneaking suspicion there wasn't a soul Peter would let that close, not just derived from his own comment about it. She could see it in the way he held himself- so guarded. Her heart was aching for this kid. She knew she’d feel for him regardless of her involvement, seeing how Peter was obvious a sweet kid in a lot of pain, but it was deeper than that. There was a guilt settling in her soul, reminding her at every moment that she had been someone close to him. Someone who had forgotten him.

"Daredevil and Deadpool? I try to keep my distance from people," he stated the obvious.

"Family?" Tony asked. He shook his head. "None?"

"None living."

"You seemed interested in college when I asked yesterday?" Peter shrugged.

"If I can get a scholarship, maybe, but they don't usually reward those to high school drop outs."

"You dropped out?" A nod.

"GED."

"Well that counts for something." Peter shrugged again, explaining,

"There's no digital record of me. No grades, no extracurriculars, no recommendations. I don't really have the time anyways," he concluded with a shrug.

"I can help with those,” Tony didn’t hesitate to offer. “We'll get you an internship, I can cover your tuition-"

"Please, don't. That's really way too much. I'm figuring it out, Mr.Stark, please don't worry about it."

"I found you doing math for fun this morning. I am worried about it. If you like school you should be in it.”

"It's okay, Mr.Stark, maybe down the road I can get my degree online or something."

"How did this happen?" Pepper interjected, like a rain cloud that had finally burst under the weight and came pouring down with the heavy question.

"You guys wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"You said Strange was involved?" A nod. "I'll believe you." Peter bit down on his lip so hard he thought the skin might tear once more, but this time he retracted at the pain of the swollen bump from the last time he had.

"Well, my identity got outer, so I asked Dr.Strange- Stephen," he corrected himself with his eyes distant, briefly lost in some horrid memory, "to make everyone forget.

“Forget you?”

“Forget I was Spider-Man…” his speech picked up in speed as he began the story. “Then I changed his spell so my friends would remember but it got out of control and broke open the multiverse and a bunch of villains from other universes got pulled in and I tried to cure them and there were two other Peter's that came but uh- not before- before I got my aunt killed.... But then we cured most of the villains but then the spell burst free and I sort of tried to kill one the guy that killed my aunt but then one of the other me's stopped me... yeah, anyways, it was too late- the multiverse was already breaking open and so I- I asked Strange to make everyone forget me...” finally, he slowed down, sounding small as he told them, “and then he did."

"I'm going to kill him," Tony stated, without a doubt, and hardly even a pause from the end of the kids story.

"It was the only way,” Peter insisted with even less hesitation.

"There's got to be another way-"

"There's not." the kid interrupted, but still, Tony stilk wasn't ready to give up.

"Well I'll talk to him!"

"He doesn't even remember it." And then Tony felt nauseous, imagining what it'd be like to be forgotten by every person you've ever interacted with. To be erased from the minds of everyone while being forced to stand by and watch them move on without you. And at such a young age.

He hated everything about it and he had absolutely no idea how to fix it.

He hated that too.

He fixed things.

That’s what he did.

He needed to fix it. But how?

Chapter Text

Peter was quiet on the trip back to the city. Not that he talked much anyways. He spent the time gazing out as the trees lessened and the buildings grew taller and they descended into the inner city.

"Thank you for the ride," Peter told him as they pulled up to an apartment building in Hell's Kitchen. It looked respectable and while could have certainly used some cleaning up, it didn't make Tony want to turn the car around before Peter could jump out. There was a playground around the corner and some plants across the sidewalk, frozen but a sign of effort that made him feel better about leaving the kid to his own devices.

Peter thanked him for the ride, as well as the invitation to return so they could fix his phone screen or simply just visit, whether he chose to accept it or not. Tony put his information into the phone, and demanded Peter put his into the older's before finally letting the kid out of the car. He watched as Peter made his way to the door, wanting to ensure he got in alright and refusing to think about how much of a dad move that was, but he was glad he did it when he saw Peter attempting to buzz in. Buried beneath his hope that the kid was living in a decent part of town, he had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn't where Peter lived. The boy kept his head down as he made his way back down the steps and Tony wasted no time turning the car around to follow him.

"Where you headed?" He asked out the lowered window, slowing to the boys pace. Peter looked guilty, but he stayed quiet, eyes remaining straight ahead. "Kid, at least let me give you a ride. You have somewhere to stay, right?" To this, Peter nodded, but still made no attempt to turn to his former mentor and whatever else he may have been at another time. "So let me take you there. It's cold out and you can't thermoregulate." Peter assumed Tony had the memory of Peter mentioning this, but likely only as Spider-Man.

"I have the suit on," he explained, still not looking as he silently panicked under the man’s eyes.

"Kid, I'll get off your back, but I need to see you have a home. So get in the car and give me an address or come back to the cabin." Peter hesitated for a moment, but unsure of what he could do beyond flat out running away, or continually arguing with a man who didn’t like to lose, he obliged, climbing in the backseat instead of the passengers this time and mumbling off an address not far. Tony entered it into the gps and glanced into the backseat where Peter sat with his head hung, pulling at the bottom of his sweater.

Tony was quick to understand why as he pulled into a more dangerous part of town. He had no doubts Peter could protect himself, but that didn't mean he had to like that the kid had to protect himself where he lived.

He pulled into a spot about a block from the building and Peter thanked him once more, a little quieter now, and slipped out, expecting Tony to stay in the car and watch that he got in, but Tony put the car in park and climbed out with him. He didn't need to explain once more that he wasn't leaving until he saw Peter had a home, though at this point, the younger wasn't quite sure if showing him said home would be any better. He took his chances. Maybe Tony wouldn't judge it too harshly. Maybe he'd see a home and not a room in a basement. He doubted it, but what was he to do?

He regretted it from the moment he stepped through the break in the fence and Tony spotted the broken bottles and discarded cigarettes on and beneath the pile of snow.

Peter jiggled the doorknob lifted the door to open it, revealing a second door past the mailboxes, where Peter had to repeat the struggle with the old door, this time with a key, and a kick instead of a lift. The door was breaking in where the residents were constantly repeating the motion to get into the building. When the second door opened, Peter changed his mind and was racking his brain for some way to convince Tony he didn't actually live there. It looked much worse than he'd ever seen it when he knew the billionaire's eyes were looking on as well.

Tony looked around at the dimly lit hall with a heavily stained carpet. It smelled like mildew and cigarettes.

He could hear rattling and distant yells and he swore he saw a cockroach skidding away. Not to mention it wasn't much warmer inside the building than outside.

The steps creaked as they made their way downstairs into the basement of the building.

The hall was small and dark, and Peter stopped in front of the closet door, forcing it open much like the others.

Before stepping in, Peter looked back at him with flushed cheeks, but he opted against saying anything and stepped in.

Tony stepped in behind him, closing the door behind him and taking in the sight. He was standing in a small entryway, a door to his right, presumably the bathroom. On his left was a sink and a small countertop with a single cabinet above it, the door askew. A hot plate from a garage sale, not much younger than Peter, rested on top of the counter.

Straight ahead was the rest of the room- a bed with a blue comforter taking up most of it, and the desk Peter had tossed his keys onto along the bathroom wall.

There was only a small window near the ceiling, covered with some taped fabric, and in the corner he spotted mold growing on the peeling and stained ceiling.

Peter didn't have many belongings, some books stacked on the ground and desk. There was a duck-taped chrome-book on the desk and some clothing folded along the wall at the end of the bed.

There was scratching on the door behind Tony and he raised an eyebrow.

"Cat," Peter explained. Tony opened the door and the cat came waltzing in like it owned the place.

"Hey, Cheese," the boy greeted him as he jumped onto the desk. As though things weren't bad enough, the voices Tony been hearing through the wall next to Peter grew, a fight erupting into a screaming match between his neighbors. Peter paid no attention to it.

"I have a home. You can go,” he stated, dully, attempting to keep the shame out of his voice. Tony took a step back and opened the cabinet door, finding a few soup cans, crackers, and a granola bar on a dusty shelf.

"Yeah, I don't think so." He closed the cabinet and looked Peter in the eye. "You're not living here."

"I'm saving for college, it's fine. It works."

"Do you even have hot water? Heat?"

Peter indirectly responded with,

"I sleep at the office when it's cold and Mr.Murdock and Miss Page let me use their showers. I really don't spend much time here anyways. It's fine." Tony almost laughed. Peter seemed to pick up that Tony wasn't buying it and added a, "really," which did nothing to assure him. The older man's eyes darted to the ceiling where the patch of mold painted the corner of the room.

"Have you told your landlord about the mold?"

"Yeah.”

And?” Peter shrugged sheepishly and attempted to assure him,

"It's fine, I heal quick. It's really hard for me to get sick." Tony made a mental note to find this kids landlord once he got the kid out of this crappy basement room he called a home.

"But you're living here. It's bound to catch up."

"It's really not that bad. Like I said, I'm not here often." Tony practically scoffed. Looking directly at the kid, he stated.

"I have condominiums in the city. All around." And as expected, Peter, without a hint of wavering in his decision, abruptly replied,

"No."

"Come on, Pete, I hardly ever use them. Take your pic-"

"No," he repeated, just as sure, if not more.

"For me. Give me some peice of mind-"

"I've been trying to!" Peter exclaimed, though in contrast to his neighbors, he hardly raised his voice at all. He didn’t need a louder volume to communicate his frustrations. "I stayed last night, I told you what happened, I showed you where you live. You tell me you understand if I can't be around you but then you ask more from me. You want me to give you some piece of mind but I'm losing mine." Tony flinched at his words, having had no idea his presence was upsetting the kid so much. He was almost relieved Peter was finally telling the truth with him, knowing it couldn't have been easy for him.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I didn't mean to put you through this,” he told the kid, honestly.

"Then don't," Peter stated plainly, running a hand through his hair. "Please, just go. Go because you can! You can turn around and move on. I'm trying to move on, Tony. Please don't make it more difficult." A part of Tony wanted to flea. To get as far away as possible and leave the kid alone, but he wasn't sure moving on was the best thing for Peter when he was starving in an apartment that would make him sick and just getting by, shoving everyone and everything away. He also didn't see how he could just let go. He'd been searching for ages, how could he just walk away? Peter was wrong, Tony couldn't turn around and leave.

"I can't move on, Peter. I can't move on because I'm mourning you. I can't possibly understand what this is like for you but I can tell you that this all left a hole in me too. In Pepper and Morgan as well, only we don't know why." Peter shook his head, fighting the tears that threatened to flood his eyes as he asked,

"Do you know what I would give to forget it all? I spend all of my time, all of my energy trying so hard not to look back. I love you, Tony. But most of the time I wish I couldn't remember because at least then, I wouldn't know what I lost." His voice was harsh, and Tony responded with softness.

"You didn't lose me, kid. I feel more attached to you after twenty-four hours than I have to most people in my life. You didn't disappear from me when my memory was wiped and sure as hell didn't disappear from the little girl who asked where her brother was every day for six months. Every god. damn. day. And I didn't have an answer for her. So here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna pack up your things, drive to the nearest condo, and so long as you're living there, I won't contact you until you reach out to me because at least that way, I know I didn't leave you out in the cold to fend for yourself." Peter didn't like the picture Tony painted of him, but standing in his apartment, his struggles on display, he couldn't deny he was barely getting by.

"I have three conditions." Peter stated. “One: I'm renting from you."

"No way-" Tony started, only to be cut off.

"Yes."

"Fine... I'll match your rent." Tony had no intentions of keeping the money. He'd simply put it in an account for Peter once he got over the fact that Tony was going to do things for him.

"Okay. Two: No FRIDAY- I don't want to be spied on and I know you can't help yourself."

"It's not spying-"

"Then checking on my well-being or whatever you want to call it."

"Fine. We'll install Karen and she'll contact me with emergencies."

"You remember my A.I.s name?" Peter questioned. When Tony gave a single decisive nod, Peter mumbled to himself, "-can remember what I named my A.I. but not my age- some spell." Then to Tony, "no baby-monitor. You can’t see anything, anywhere in the apartment, even if I’m bleeding out.” Tony was about to question why but he remembered people have boundaries and Peter was a legal adult who likely didn't want or need constant supervision.

"That's fair. But Karen will contact me and you’ll text me an update twice a week," Tony added.

"Once."

"A full six to eight sentence paragraph." Peter rolled his eyes.

"Fine, I'll be sure to sight my sources too."

"APA. You need the practice for college. What's the third condition." Peter pulled out a flyer from a stack of pages on his desk and held it out for Tony, who took it without even realizing the boy had handed him something. And he's taken it!

"F.E.A.S.T is looking for a guest speaker." Tony could tell this was a no-negotiation deal. Assuming Pepper would be pleased, he didn't put up a fight.

"Fine. But I have a condition of my own."

"Of course you do." Peter stopped short of rolling his eyes at the comment. There was a pause, and Peter sensed how serious Tony was about this one.

"Keep an open mind. If you want to call me, just call me. Don't complicate it." Biting his lip, Peter gave a single nod.

"I'll try."

Chapter Text

Peter didn't think twice about using a trash-bag to stuff his things into to transport, and while Tony raised an eyebrow, he didn't say anything before taking one of the bags himself.

He started with his desk and Tony with his dresser, tossing the kids clothes in a bag. There wasn't much- just a few shirts and some pants, most of it well worn but stitched neatly. Peter had gotten quite good at it since he'd learned to sew his own suit. Tony noticed a difference in the clothing Peter had now versus at his house. Less pun shirts and more plain button down t-shirts and plain long sleeves. Tony wondered if it was a sign Peter was growing up or a sign Peter had been lost somewhere along the way.

Peter did the top drawers, but Tony could tell there was more tucked away in there than some underwear and socks but he tossed the dab pen into the bag before Tony could see, asking the man to clear out the bottom drawer of his desk- one the kid didn't touch. Tony carefully placed the photos, a shirt, a stuffed toy, and other small items in the kids backpack, since tossing sentimental in a trash-bag wasn't the best way to keep them protected.

It took them all of fifteen minutes to fill his backpack and two trash-bags with plenty of room left over but no items to place in. Peter threw in a blanket and grabbed a box from the corner as well, mumbling something about Spider-Man stuff.

He decided whatever was left, he would come back for later, a majority of his items ready to go.

The cat followed them out, jumping into the car like it'd been waiting for the day.

"That's a weird cat you've got."

"She's not really mine. She adopted me more than I adopted her. If anything, I'm her human," Peter explained.

"Well, she's going to the vet either way."

So before heading to the condo, Tony brought them by the vet where Cheez-it got checked out, chipped, and vaccinated whilst Tony continued mumbling about how ridiculous it was that Peter just let a stray cat into his apartment.

"I gave her a bath," Peter argued.

"Oh yeah, how'd that go?"

"I'm luck I heal quick." Tony snorted at the mental image of Peter trying to get a cat in water. Then he frowned at the possibility of infection Peter had faced, but the boy didn't see it, having already become distracted by the fish tank.

Tony took two more mental notes. Bring Peter to an aquarium if he ever let him, and that Peter was more distractible than his six year old.

"Are you sticking with Cheez-It?" Tony asked once they were back in the car, Cheez-it in the back, not trusting Peter for the time being. He knew she'd come around. After all, the cat had come back around after the bath incident.

"Well, Morgan approves," Peter replied with a small laugh. Tony smiled a little to himself at the sign Peter might not completely pull away. He panicked for a moment too, wondering if he could be what Peter wanted. He knew he couldn't, but maybe he could be what Peter needed.

The condo was modest... to Tony.

It was on the tenth floor, a the wall straight ahead comprised of multiple large window panels with remote controlled blinds, one sheer and the other blackout. Downstairs was a kitchenette, living room area, and a table, and a staircase against the wall led to the bedroom space on the balcony upstairs.

Tony left after ensuring the kid wouldn't start paying him until the lease on his apartment was up at the end of the month.

Peter got settled in, which didn't take much longer than it took to pack.

He finally got a real cat litter bin and some food for Cheeze-It before heading out for a night of patrolling.

He didn't contact Tony until the end of the week, and it was certainly not a full paragraph. Instead, it acted more as a proof of life, containing only another expression of gratitude for letting him live in the apartment, and a picture of Cheeze-It.

Tony knew Peter was right to ensure FRIDAY wasn't present in the apartment because he found himself requesting information from Karen rather quickly.

She could only give him so much- Peter's vitals and if he was in the apartment (and if not, the last time he had been), and how many people were there.

He tried to pretend he didn't think about checking as much as he did. Much like Peter pretended he didn't want to call him when he did.

Peter texted the next week,

Peter:
I'm alive!

Tony:
That's not the agreement.

Peter:
Parker, P. (2024) Still Alive. Retrieved from: www.yourapartment.org

Then a smiley emoji.

Tony:
Tell me something Karen can't.

Peter:
Stop spying on me!

Tony:
Just your heart rate, kid. It's low, go eat something.

Peter:
All i have is cat food...

Tony:
You're gonna be the death of me

Peter:
Don't joke about that

Tony felt sick.

Weeks passed with little word from the kid. Tony stuck to his word and left Peter alone, even when he heard of a brutal battle, and even when Deadpool and Spider-Man were accredited with the take down of a massive drug cartel. Well, he might have texted something along the lines of 'good job' and 'be safe' but that was it. At least until he caught wind that Spider-Man had been hit by a train and raced out of the gala he'd been attending in the city, asking FRIDAY is Peter was home.

"Yes, sir, it appears Peter is at home with two other individuals."

"Vitals?"

"Peter's blood pressure is below average, but his breathing and heart-rate are within normal limits."

"Call him." When Peter didn't answer, he called again, already halfway to the condominium, knowing if something happened to him, Tony could never let that go. He knew Peter was lost in the snap, but he didn't know how he'd managed when he really knew the kid.

It took him all of seven minutes to be at Peter's door, knocking loud and clear while listening to voices. When the door opened, Tony was met with someone who certainly wasn't Peter. He was calm, his movements unrushed, one hand wrapped around a cane and the other on the door.

"Mr.Murdock" Tony started, greeted, recognizing the man standing before him by images and association with Peter.

"Mr.Stark," Matt greeted, matching his tone. The man stepped aside to let him in and Tony spotted a women sitting on the edge of the coffee table, a hand reaching towards the couch, but her eyes in his direction.

"I'm Claire," she introduced herself, standing and holding out a hand, but Tony ignored it. Not on purpose, but simply because he was in too much of a rush to see Peter was alive for himself.

"Claire is a nurse, she came to-" Tony didn't hear the rest, getting the gist as he looked down at the boy on the couch, with a deep gash above his forehead, bandages all down his arm, and pain clear on his face. His eyes were shut tight, and his head collapsed to the side.

"-but I don't have anything to help with the pain. Not with his metabolism."

"Peter?" He asked, trying to get the boy to look at him. Peter tried to turn his head, but he hardly moved it an inch.

"Dad?" He mumbled.

"He's slightly disoriented. Probably a mild concussion." Tony lowered himself to the edge of the couch, sitting down next to the boy and taking his hand into his own.

"It hurts," Peter whispered.

"He stopped the train from crashing," Claire explained. "Tumbled under and nearly killed himself in the process. If I had to guess, I'd say he has a least thirty broken bones." The kids arms were black and bruised, his hands crushed and the skin torn from his body in massive gashes. Matt knew the exact number of broken bones, but he didn't speak it.

"They're healing alright, but it's painful." He said, instead. "On this scale, maybe excruciating." Tony'd had his fair share of broken bones. Never this many but a fair amount. The break hurt the worst, but the healing wasn't a walk in the park either.

"I thought he got hit," he voiced, apparently having had the story wrong.

"No, it was an uncontrolled train he was stopping," Claire explained as Peter writhed and then whimpered at the pain movement brought him. Tony placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to settle him and the kid visibly relaxed at his touch. Tony relaxed a little as well, having been worried his touch might have hurt him more. "It seems like he got home on his own but by the time we got here he was on the floor."

"Thank you for helping him," he told her, though he sensed their roles were reversed. He wasn't Peter's guardian. It was probable that Claire knew more about Peter that Tony did. He looked between the adults, a realization hitting.

"Wait, you both know who he is?" The corner of Matt's mouth twitched and then a small smile appeared with a huff of air.

"We do."

"Does anyone else?"

"Just my colleagues." Peter writhed again, his hand twitching to Tony's more tightly for just a flash of a second before the pain stopped him. He quietly whined in pain.

"Hey, Pete, it's okay. I'm gonna have Banner bring some meds for you." He tried to stand, but when he pulled his hand away, Peter's hand came with and he whined again, his hand dead weight on Tony.

Claire smiled a little.

"Is he-"

"He's stuck to me." He heard Matt's small laugh from behind. Looking back to the boy, he shook his head.

"Okay, kid. If I'm stuck here, we're gonna have to find another way to sit."

"Mhm," Peter replied quietly to the sounds, not caring for the words being spoken. His eyes were too heavy to think of cracking open and he was swimming in a deep layer of fog, allowing himself to drift back into unconsciousness.

Tony, with Claire's help, settled behind Peter, gently placing the pillow with Peter's head against his stomach without letting go of the kid's hand.

"Would you if I stick around until he wakes up?" Matt inquired, from his spot on the other, and Tony, not sure how Peter would react to his presence all alone, nodded.

"Course." After dialing Bruce and explaining the situation, he tucked his phone away.

"Movie?" He asked, unsure of how to pass the time, but immediately regretting the suggestion. Matt laughed, no doubt about how Tony's face had fallen when the words had escaped his lips.

"I can listen," he assured the older man.

He hadn't realized he was using his free hand to comb through the boys wild curls until he had to stop to grab the remote.

He knew he felt protective over Peter, but he didn't expect physical affection to fly out of him with such ease that he hadn't even realized.

It hurt all the more, knowing he'd once been so close with Peter. Even if he wasn't the kid's father, Peter remembered the man caring for him like one. Maybe that was why he'd called him 'dad' when half conscious.

From the records of the Parker family, Tony assumed the boy had lost quite a few 'dads' over the years. Mom's too. No wonder the kid thought he was cursed.

Peter began stirring about forty minutes into the movie, and Tony noticed he moved with more ease, as though he was just intensely sore and his bones weren't actively and rapidly fusing themselves back together. When Peter drifted back off, Tony was grateful he hadn't drank anything at the gala, knowing he wasn't getting up for a bathroom break anytime soon.

The man allowed himself to be sidetracked from the film when curiosity overtook him. He asked Matt about what Peter did at the firm, receiving a vague answer of about doing whatever was needed.

He inquired about Peter's health, and how they'd met and how he knew about Spider-Man: Peter's business, after a run in with Spider-Man, Peter told him.

None of it was a lie, and if that half-truths are lies stuff was true, he didn't think about it.

Tony was surprised Peter would share his identity but he let it be. Matt seemed like someone who could be trusted with secrets, being a lawyer and all. Still, the boy tended to stay away from anyone he thought needed protection, so why would he tell a blind lawyer? He wasn't going to get an answer from Matt so he didn't further inquire.

Matt went to retrieve the medicine from Bruce, who was downstairs, seeing how Tony couldn't budge. Upon the lawyers return, he shook the kid lightly in an attempt to wake him and Peter stirred easily.

"Hm?" He mumbled, attempting to sit up, but letting out a small whimper. He protectively pulled his arm into his ribcage as Tony helped him to sit up against the back of the couch.

"Morning sleepyhead."

"Dad?" The name caught Tony off-guard, despite Peter having said it earlier. "Sorry," he whispered, adjusting to consciousness and realizing his mistake in how he addressed the man.

He looked down at himself, recognizing the bandages and bruises littered over his arms and legs.

"Oh, god, I'm so done with trains," he mumbled as Tony pressed a the glass of water from the coffee table into Peter's hands.

"At least you woke up at home this time," Matt told him.

"Mhm, beats prison," he croaked in a dry voice. Matt scoffed, in on something Tony didn't know. He wondered if he once did.

With shaky hands, Peter lifted the glass to his lips and took several more large gulps before Tony placed it down for him and he adjusted uncomfortably, feeling like utter shit.

"I had Banner bring some stronger meds," Tony told him.

"Thank you," he told the man, who waited for something else, and Peter delivered. "Why are you here? How long have I been out?"

"Two and a half hours," Matt replied for him.

"Claire?"

"She was here."

"Oh," he whispered, feeling bad he'd needed the nurses help once again. Between him and Matt, the poor women practically had a whole separate job from her actual one. "I should thank her, do you know where my-" he tried to sot up but the slight movement sent his eyes clamping shut as he groaned, "-phone is."

"It was shattered," Matt explained.

"Great," he breathed, sounding like he found it anything but great. He figured it was at some point on his way back when his vision went blurry and he'd smacked into the ground.

"Don't worry about it, we'll make a more durable one."

"You say that every time and every time I shatter it." Tony hesitated to reply. This was definitely a Peter conversation. Tony had no recollection of building phones for Spider-Man, but he didn't have the heart to tell the kid he didn't share the memory. The realization didn't don on Peter, however, concerning Tony, who'd gotten the impression that the kid had figured out quite a bit about what people could and couldn't remember.

Tony assisted Peter with the meds, which he took graciously with a few more sips of water.

"You guys don't have to stay. I'll be alright in a few hours."

"Days," Matt corrected. "Even Deadpool needs recovery time."

"DP can grow an arm in hours."

"You don't regrow arms."

"We don't know the extent of my powers," Peter teased, but he briefly wondered.

"Let's not put it to test," Tony interjected. "Just stay on the ground a few days."

"Mhm, May will make me anyways." Tony didn't correct Peter. He looked towards Matt, who remained silent as well.

"You're sure it's just a concussion?"

"Yes," Matt replied, sure as ever.

"'M okay. Really," Peter tried.

With Peter's permission, Matt left the apartment to the two. Tony didn't want to move the kid from the couch so he ran up to the bedroom balcony space to grab a phone charger, some warm socks, and his pillow, hesitating when he saw the laptop open. He glanced down to make sure Peter was still watching the television and then stepped back, shaking the mouse.

The screen came to life with a face he recognized from the photos on Peter's room.

Ned's instagram was displayed, the most recent photo a group of teens in yellow jackets, a trophy in the middle.

That's right, we did it again! #acadacanationals

He clicked out of the image with a sigh, scrolling down to find photos of the two friends and none of Peter, who'd been digitally deleted from the face of the earth.

Curiously, he opened the bottom drawer, hoping the kid had chosen to store his sentimental's in the same spot as his old apartment, and his eyes flew open at the envelope of photos.

Quietly, he pulled them out and flickered through.

Many of them were older, and he could assume the man and women in the photos were his parents. Then came a photo of them with a toddler with curls he easily recognized as Peter. There were only a few images, one of the kid a little older with his mom, and one of him at a workbench with his dad. Then they were gone and Peter was much older. An image of another couple appeared, a preteen at a science fair with the pair.

There were a few of the man and women, and then a few of his friends. In the very back was a polaroid.

It was on a beach, a blend of blue and purple in the sky and sea behind them.

A younger Morgan smiled brightly at the camera, Peter behind her with an equally joyful smile on his face and arms wrapped around her. She held his hand in her own and they looked at the camera.

He hardly recognized the kid in the image, looking so healthy and happy. It was hard to imagine a light had once shone so bright in his eyes. While he looked different, in many ways, he looked more familiar than the Peter downstairs did.

He took a photo of it and slipped the photos back into the drawer.

Chapter Text

The next time Peter saw Tony, it was for Morgan's birthday. She'd asked maybe a dozen times if the boy from Christmas could come, and Tony being the convincing man he was, encouraged the girl to make an invitation for Peter.

Peter, upon reading the card with a drawing of Spider-Man, sighed and dialed Tony.

"This is cruel," was the first thing exchanged in the call.

"Tell that to Morgan, the invitation's from her," Tony argued, assuming the reason for the sudden call.

"Look, there's a case hearing on that day that I really want to be there for." This was true, but they both knew there was more to it. They both knew Peter was hiding.

Tony, at this point, was breaking. Over two months or nearly radio silence and he was beginning to think his Peter might be right. While the kid needed people, maybe seeing Tony was too harmful for him. Maybe he was just doing what was best for himself. It hurt Tony to look at the boy too. To know he'd never be what Peter had before the spell was cast.

Maybe it he should have told Morgan she couldn't invite him. Maybe the gaping hole in his heart was best left ignored. Maybe it would have been easier on everyone if knew their boy wasn't coming home. He was just struggling to accept it, with Peter just in reach. Or was it just out of reach?

"I understand. I'll tell her." There was a long moment of silence over the line as Peter took in the man's acceptance with relief, and then sadness. Sadness because he wanted to see Morgan's seventh birthday. He wanted to see Tony again. He wanted to pretend like he had a family, but even if it was the Stark's, Peter luck was strong. "You still there?" Then, a smaller pause.

"Yeah."

"You okay?" Tony inquired after the unusual silence.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Okay." Neither hung up. Tony heard Peter draw in a deep breath, and picking up on the shakiness of it.

"I should go."

"If you change your mind..."

"Yeah." Still, Peter stayed on the phone, but when Tony made no move to end the call, he finally brought himself to.

It was hardly twelve hours later when Peter sent a follow up text.

I'll be there

And he was.

Tony spotted him sitting at a table, watching on as Morgan raced through the obstacle course in the place he had rented. It seemed she was having a parkour phase, and the gym provided her the perfect opportunity to go tumbling through obstacles.

"Hey, kid," Tony greeted the kid as he approached the table, drawing his attention towards the older man. Peter smiled politely.

"Hi, Tony," he greeted, sounding glad to see him, but his voice was laced with a deep exhaust. Tony tried not to crack a giant smile when he heard his first name, but it was easy once he remembered he had no idea what Peter called him. He could have been Tony for a long time. Hell, he could have been 'dad' if the last time they'd been together was any indication.

He took in the boys clothing- a white button down with sleeves rolled to his elbows, and black slacks, confirming the court hearing for his internship wasn't just an excuse, but something Peter had gotten out of. His hair was cut and curls tamed, and he had some color, for once not fresh out of battle.

"How's it going? You look a lot better than the last time I saw you, not that that's anything to go by." Peter laughed a little as Tony settled across from him. Nervously, he picked at the corner of an empty paper plate he'd been keeping his hands busy with.

"Well, I've been avoiding trains."

"Well, that's probably not too difficult with the way you tend to get around the city."

"You're not wrong." Peter looked back to the obstacle, where Morgan was smiling and laughing at the end of it, victorious against the other seven-year-old.

"Has she seen you get?" A shake of the head. "She'll be excited. I didn't tell her."

"Thought I might back out?"

"I wouldn't blame you." Peter nodded a little.

"If I were smarter, I would have."

"You seem plenty competent to me." Peter laughed now, in complete denial of the statement.

"Well, I'm pretty good at fucking things up," he concluded, not feeling the need to give examples.

"Peter!" A child's screams brought a smile to the faces on the adults as Morgan came running full steam ahead and into Peter's arms. "You came!"

"How could I not after that invitation! Where'd you learn to draw like that?"

"Miss Felicia! She taught me to draw Spider-Man! I can teach you!" Morgan told him, excitedly.

"Yeah, I'd love to learn, Morgs!"

"Are you coming home with us? I can teach you with my new pencils!" Peter shot a glance towards Tony, but found no answers or comfort there. He kept finding himself doing that- wanting to turn to Tony only to remember it wasn't the same as it had been.

"We've got plenty of cake to go around." Peter knew he wasn't needed that night. The case was carrying out as expected and there were none coming up that he had to deal with, but he knew Matt should get some rest. Then again, the man never did and Peter wasn't expecting to be needed if something came up. He'd planned to patrol Queen's for a while in an attempt to continue what he'd started in high school, but he was tempted to stay.

"Decide later," Tony took the pressure off when Peter hesitated. The boy smiled a little and gave a grateful nod.

"Peter, will you race me!"

"Sure, squirt."

Peter stripped of his dress shirt, leaving him in a t-shirt underneath.

His slacks, mended from goodwill- he'd picked up a few tailoring skills- probably weren't the best for gymnastics, but he made it work.

Ten minutes later, Morgan wasn't having it.

The boy had been holding back, hanging from a bar or perched where he could rest, or moving slowly with each movement, not exactly pretending to lose (because she wouldn't believe that), but holding back, hilariously. He even pretended to slip once, but Morgan was no dummy. Giving up on trying to compete with a superhero, she let him help her instead. Tony watched on as Peter helped Morgan swing from one bar to another, cheering when she made it and giving her a double high five before moving onto the next task.

"She's gonna get attached," Pepper voiced her concern as Morgan and two other children climbed on Peter, one hanging by his arm, one on his leg, and Morgan on his back as he swung the one on his arm into the foam pit.

Tony laughed a little at the sight of the boy who'd just been jumped by several small children.

"She's already attached."

"I don't want Peter to have to worry about us. About if he's hurting her if he doesn't come back. Because he will hurt her if he disappears, Tony."

"I don't want either of them to get hurt either." Tony stated the obvious. "But what are we supposed to do?" He asked as Peter lightly tossed Morgan into the pit.

"Just hope he sticks around?" For that day, Peter did.

Coming down from a sugar high, and exhausted from the physical activity, Morgan was clonked out in her carseat within ten minutes of the ride up to the lake house.

Pepper asked Peter how work was going and what he'd been up to, and Peter felt overwhelmingly like he was a little kid who's mom was asking him about school. He gave vague answers, protective of Wade's identity along with what exactly he did at his job there for the sake of Matt's identity.

So he said Starbucks was exhausting with all of the students who had midterms but he was getting plenty of hours in. She asked if he was still temping and was relieved to learn Peter hadn't tempted in the last few weeks. She could tell he was working himself to the bone.

Hoping to open up the conversation, she asked about where he'd worked before and exchanged horror stories about working in retail.

"You mentioned you bartended?"

"Yeah, a friend of mine hooked me up," Peter explained, causing Tony to glance in the rear view at the mention of a friend. Peter caught it.

"Deadpool," he admitted.

"Does he know your identity?"

"He's seen me." They'd never actually addressed Peter's identity. After getting him hired, the older had simply walked into the bar a few days, stopped and stared at Peter's young face behind the bar for a solid minute, and never spoken of it again. He never asked Peter about Spidey stuff or vice vera, treating them entirely like separate people.

Peter doubted he even knew his real name. He never used it.

Chapter Text

Tony was alerted when Peter had a nightmare. It was a protocol he didn't remember setting for that room, but it didn't take him long to discover it when FRIDAY picked up signs of distress consistent with nightmares. 

The camera in Peter's room only activated when Peter's vitals were off or Peter had sustained injury. He wouldn't have been surprised if Peter had coded it himself. Tony was never big on privacy and it came as more of an afterthought to him. 

They must have compromised. He was annoyed he couldn't remember it. 

He opened the live video showed Peter swinging his legs around to sit on the edge of his bed, heaving, but awake and recovering. He covered his mouth with his hand, stifling his sobs as they escaped his body. 

Tony briefly thought of going to check on the kid, but something held him back. Maybe it was for fear Peter's nightmare had to do with him or maybe he was just a little curious if Peter would come to him as he'd mentioned that first night (well, not really the first night) he'd stayed there. 

He listened more carefully than he cared to admit, and tried not to snap his head around when he heard two shy knocks on the door, instead looking up from his work with controlled speed to see Peter nervously standing with the door held open. 

"Hey, kid. Late night inspiration?" Peter knew that Tony knew why he was there, but he welcomed the excuse, a small smile growing on his face that should have made Tony glad, but instead made him feel like he'd been punched in the gut because Peter was just a kid and his shy demeanor only extenuated the signs. 

"Blueprint paper's over there," he offered, pointing to where he kept it before remembering Peter already knew. The boy moved towards the graphing paper anyways, grabbing a protractor from a nearby bin without second guessing it's location, and shifting to the workbench in the corner. He hesitated for a moment before stacking up the pages left out and taking a seat at the stool. 

Tony was grateful his back was turned, because he was still staring. Still thinking about his age. Not just his age, but how much had been robbed from him before he hit it. Peter wasn't a child, no. Not because he was nineteen, but because children aren't meant to experience the kind of pain Peter must have. Then again, neither is anyone.

The next three hours flew by rather quickly. He hadn't even noticed Peter had shifted to the couch until the sun was rising. He smiled at the sleeping form, curled under a red blanket. There was something so familiar about it, and not because Peter had told him but because he'd seen this, time and time again. Tuesdays and Thursday's and every other weekend. Peter weakly balled his hand around the fabric of the blanket, the same way he did around Tony's shirt when he joined him. 

Tony couldn't stop himself now. He was headed towards Peter, chasing a memory, chasing a feeling. 

"Peter?" He shook him gently. Peter stirred. "Pete, help me out for a sec." 

He gently moved Peter to sit up so he could sit down where his torso had just been, and then pulling him the rest of the way into his lap, not even sure of what he was doing but just knowing he had to. Knowing he'd done it before because everything was infinitely more familiar with each passing moment. The boy sleepily complied, helping to adjust himself to lean comfortably against his former mentor's shoulder. 

"Are you okay, Mr.Stark?" Peter asked, reverting back to the old name in his sleepy state as he balled Tony's shirt on his hand. 

Maybe it was the name, or maybe it was the feeling of Peter grasping him so gently, but it was like a million barriers or foggy glass shattered at once.

"Oh my god," he whispered. "Oh my god, Peter." Images flashed through his mind faster than he could process them. A teenagers bedroom, the back of a car with a phone camera, a smile behind a beaker. Four seats taken at the breakfast table and Peter singing Morgan's favorite song as he danced around the living room with her in his arms, both of them wearing massive smile. The faces of Spider-Man were unmasked.

"Mr.Stark, I don't want to go." 

"I just wanted to be like you."

"Senses dialed to eleven

"Have you guys ever seen that really old movie?"

"When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you."

"Don't tell aunt May."

May was gone. His parents were gone. His friends forgot him. And this was Peter. His child. His Peter.

"Come on, dad, I'm too old for a curfew." 

"Dad?"

"Uh- did I say that?" 

~

"I love you, Tony."

"I love you too, kid." 

~

"But I don't want anything! You guys- this family- you've given me everything I could ever ask for."

"That's great, kid, but I'm still getting you something for Christmas. Make a list or I'm buying you a state."

"Okay, fine. There was this one lego set Ned and I have had our eyes on..."

~

"Mr.Stark? Why are you crying?" Peter asked, quietly, concern evident in his tone as he drew Tony's attention to the tears freely falling down his face. 

"Because I forgot you. How could I forget you. I'm so sorry, Peter. I'm so sorry." He held Peter close to him. 

"Mr.Stark-"

"I remember you, Peter. I remember everything. I'm so sorry I forgot."

"You remember?"

"Yeah, kid. I remember." 

"But you can't."

"You used to sing Sweet Caroline to Morgan when you danced with her in the living room. She'd demand you read her a book before bed when you stayed over, and you always did. You like pineapple on pizza because you're a menace. You're terrified of spider's but you won't let me kill them so you'd stick yourself to the corner of the ceiling and wouldn't move until it was out of the house. You name the wrong band when we listen to music and I still don't know if it's because you don't actually know or because you like to see me lose my mind because you always give me this little smile when I freak out. I told you I loved you in a waffle house and you were so stunned you missed your waffle and got whipped creme on the table instead." He was cut off by a sob breaking free from the boy, directed straight into the palm of his hand. Tony gently wrapped his hand around the boys wrist and lowered his hand. 

"You're afraid of people hearing you cry. You can cry Peter." Lord knows Tony was too. Peter chocked on a sob, but another followed freely. The teen gripped him tighter, arms wrapping around his shoulders. Tony traded sight of the boy's face for the bear hug, wrapping his arms across his back as Peter violently sobbed into his shoulder. 

Each sob broke Tony's heart a little more, like he was being hit with a realization each time. He'd felt deeply for Peter before he knew who he was, but with context, he could feel himself breaking. 

"I'm so sorry about May," he finally said after a few minutes. Peter only sobbed harder. 

Pepper found them in the morning, Tony still awake and puffy eyed, stroking Peter's hair as the boy slept peacefully in his arm, dried tears on his face and a packet of tissues in his lap. Snot and tear filled tissues laid at their feet, and Pepper knew from the moment that Tony's eyes met her, that her husband had remembered. 

Now if only she could too. 

She didn't care if it ended with her sharing that look of pain in her husband's eyes. Because even though Peter's were closed, she could tell they held a little less. Maybe they could share it. Maybe if they could share it, they could heal.

Chapter Text

Peter stuck to Tony's side after that, and Tony was grateful, because if he hadn't, Tony would have been stuck to his.

The boys was practically clinging to him all morning, chair pressed against Tony's and Peter's shoulder pressed against his side.

Even playing MarioKart with Morgan, Peter leaned against Tony, who gently and affectionately combed his fingers through his hair, feeling how Peter relaxed at the touch. While Peter found the morning a relief, Tony found it difficult to look at the kid.

He had so many questions, but Peter, for the first time since he'd reentered the Stark's lives, seems content.

That didn't stop Tony from relaying every interaction.

That's not to say there was no relief. The big question weighing him down, the guilt of not remembering, and the dissipating confusion were all gone. Mostly it was the guilt that'd bothered him since Peter cried on the floor of his room. It wasn't gone. He still hated the pain he'd caused Peter, but at least now he could stop inflicting it.

Still, when Pepper asked what type of tea he'd like, his heart yearned for a reset button. Because Peter only likes earl grey. He'll drink other kinds to be polite, but he doesn't like them. Just earl grey. She used to know that.

"Do you have earl grey?"

"I think I saw some in the back of the cabinet." Tony felt nauseous.

It was around eleven when the boy's phone started lighting up with the name 'Karen' and Peter reached to answer it.

"Hi, Miss Page." Peter answered the phone, his exhaust shinning through in his tone. Peter was on the floor, helping Morgan with homework, Tony behind him, his foot pressed against the side of Peter's thigh to continue the contact Peter was desperately craving.

"Hey, Peter, I picked up coffee this morning, you weren't there."

"Yeah, I traded shifts with Marley. I'll be there tomorrow morning."

"But aren't you working the Leonard case tonight with Matt?"

"Yeah, but I'll have until 4:30."

"Well, when are you gonna sleep?"

"After?"

"Peter, this is getting ridiculous," Karen commented with evident concern in her tone.

"I'm pretty sure it's always been like this... I'll take a nap this afternoon, it's fine."

"I'm telling Matt," she threatened.

"No, don't tell Matt! he'll bench me and last time he benched me I missed my my shift because I was pulling glass out of his ass...et's," he mended, glancing at the child.

"Three hours of sleep. Minimum. And I don't want to see you in the office tomorrow."

"That's not fair! I didn't see you leave the office for three days during the Madison case."

"We're not talking about me. Get some sleep." Peter grumbled. "Love you." He paused and waited for her to hang up, still unable to say it back. Karen knew he loved her, but he knew that put her in danger and she'd already faced enough of that. She didn't need to be subject to his Parker Luck.

When the line went dead, he set his phone back down, feeling the curious gaze of his mentor.

"Peter, I don't like you working all these jobs." The boy wasn't sure how much of Karen's end he heard, but regardless, Tony was concerned.

"It's just two."

"I want you in school."

"I'm saving." He redirected his attention towards Morgan, pointing to the button on the calculator that she was looking for. Tony didn't move on so easily.

"I distinctly remember getting May to agree to me covering your college tuition."

"Well May's not here," He stated, a little more pointed than intended. "Sorry."

"It's okay." It wasn't, though. Not that Tony had been hurt. Only concerned.

"Morgs, why don't you take a break and find that book you wanted to show me," he suggested to the girl, who seemed more than happy to do so, abandoning her math in seconds flat. She liked math, like her dad, but she didn't like homework and jumped at the opportunity for a break. Peter stayed on the floor but turned back to look at Tony.

"I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"It's really fine, Peter. I know this morning's been rough for you too, but remembering you- putting the pieces together- it's like the worlds shittiest puzzle. Everything that snaps into place just- reveals a worse picture."

"Yeah, I'm aware. You've been looking at me like you kicked me for hours."

"I kind of feel like I did. Repetitively," he admitted.

"I'm fine, Tony. I've adjusted. I mean, I'm a little freaked out that you remember me and concerned about the stability or that spell and therefore the world and all, but I guess it did take a lot to break it... anyways, I'm fine. It hasn't been as bad as it sounds."

"Well it sounds pretty bad. And it looks it to. You're shoving away the only people that care about you." He gestured to the boys phone and Peter realized he must have heard at least the end of the call.

"I'm not putting Miss Page in danger. I won't. And I don't push the other vigilantes away."

Chapter Text

Weeks passed, and there was no sign of Pepper remembering. They tried recreating memories, like a bike ride or cookie decorating and other things they'd once done together, seeing how they couldn't create their less... domestic memories together.

He couldn't make rent without his second job, but Tony wasn't accepting anyways. 

Tony said he could pay him in visits, and Peter scoffed and told the man he'd become a sappy sitcom father and Tony tried not to react to Peter implying to some degree that Tony was father in any way that might startle the kid and send his skidding away like a frazzled kitten.

Pepper woke one night, thirsty, unsurprised to find her husband was absent from bed, either having gotten up while she was asleep, or never having made an attempt to fall asleep. 

She cracked open the doors of her kids rooms, finding her daughters room empty, and figuring the girl might have crawled into her sons room, as she'd done on occasion after remembering Peter, seeing how her blanket had gone missing too. 

Peter's room, however, was empty as well. Interestingly, his blanket was missing as well.

She quickly made her way down the stairs, assuming they were there but growing mildly concerned that she couldn't see either of them.

She checked the workshop, finding Tony tinkering through the hours of the night because the man didn't sleep. 

"Where are the kids?"

"Up to mischief I suppose. Heard them a little while ago."

"It's two in the morning, Tony. They should be sleeping! Did you even check on them?"

"They were clearly trying to be quiet. I figured they didn't want me to know." Pepper looked at her husband, dumfounded. "They can't leave the property without us being alerted, they're fine. Let them get up to their antics."

"You're impossible," she told the man clearly encouraging whatever antics they got up to. 

"Peter's idea of a prank is to put tape over the television remote sensor," he reminded her. Morgan had found it absolutely hilarious. Maybe they did need to get up to more mischief. 

Pepper left the room to look around for them, seeing how they hadn't left the premises. 

Her Spider-Man themed rain boots she'd begged for were missing, along with Peter's sneakers, but her backpack was still there. She made her way to the kitchen, looking out at the platform down by the water and spotting a blob on the furniture, but from this distance she couldn't make out if it was there or if she wanted it to be there to see her kids. She made her way out the door, quietly shutting the door behind her and pulling her sweater across her body when the cool air hit. 

Quietly, she made her way down the path, squinting a little until she recognized a shape and could hear quiet voices in the distance. When she came within earshot, she heard Morgan. 

"But Bailey Maguire says that only little kids get nightmare." Pepper recognized the name as someone in Morgan's class. She furrowed her eyebrows, the urge to run over and ask what was going on strong, but not stronger than the curiosity that held in in place.

"Well Bailey Maguire is wrong. Everyone gets nightmares sometimes."

"You really get them too?"

"I do," he answered, truthfully. Tony had mentioned the frequency of them to Pepper and she absolutely hated it. She had no idea Morgan was having issues with them.

"Do you have dreams about crows too?" 

"Well not crows, but I have dreams about things that scare me. We all have fears. Sometimes, especially when we get really stressed, they find us when we're sleeping."

"What scared you?"

"Spiders." Morgan chuckled a little.

"But Petey, you are a spider!"

"Hey, do you see four more limbs growing out of me?" Morgan giggled a little and pressed her head into Peter's chest. 

"What are your nightmares about?" She inquired, wanting to feel less alone. Wanting to see proof that she wasn't being a little kid. 

"Well, usually I see things that happened in the past. Things I don't like to think about."

"Sometimes I get those kinds of dreams too."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Like when I got lost at the shopping mall or when mi-cheerio hurt you with the train."

"You knew about that, bubba?"

"Daddy was crying to mommy about it. It was really scary," she admitted, and Peter held her closer. "Daddy cried to mommy about you a lot when I was little." Pepper's heart broke for the little girl. She could remember Tony crying about the loss to Thanos. Had he been crying about losing Peter? Had Morgan heard it?

"He did?" Peter's voice was weak and cracked when he spoke. 

"Yeah. I didn't understand until my hamster died. Daddy said you died, and so I thought thats what happened to you too. But then you came back."

"That must have been hard. Seeing your dad upset."

"Were you there when he went to sleep?" She asked, recalling that Spider-Man had been a part of her fathers team during the battle. She'd seen the memorial at the compound. She remembered when her dad came home but wouldn't wake up when she tried. She remembered Peter visiting, sometimes crying.

"I was."

"Was it scary?”

"Yeah, Mo. It was really scary," he told the girl, with a sniffle. "But your mom was there too. She held my hand on the way home. She told me everything would be alright, and it was."

"Mommy's always right," Morgan confirmed, unsurprised. Peter laughed a little. 

"Yeah, she is, isn't she," he said, more to himself that to anyone else. 

A gasp grabbed both children's attention and they turned to meet the women they'd just been talking about standing behind them with a hand over her mouth. 

The moonlight lit up Peter's face just enough to wash a wave of recognition over her that made her head spin as images flashed in her mind. 

On the battlefield. 

"We won Mr.Stark, Tony."

~

On the quinjet. A hand in Tony's and a hand in Peter's.

"It's going to be okay, Peter."

"You shouldn't have to comfort me, focus on your husband."

"Come here and let me hold you."

~

In the kitchen, Peter stumbling in in a hurry with his computer in his hands, his AP exam results turned to face her. 

"Mrs.Potts, I got a five! A five!"

"I knew you would, Peter."

~

At the piano in the middle of the night.

"Can you teach me to play that?"

"I'd love to, hun. Come sit next to me." 

~

Peter had seem the face twice now. The face of when someone looked at him and recognized what no one else could. 

He was close with Pepper now, but there was an entire history missing, and he'd been longing for her to have it back. To remember how they comforted each other through Tony's coma and how they'd only merged further into a family when he woke. 

"You remember," he asked, nervously. 

"Yes, Peter. I remember it all." She wasted no time rushing to him and pulling him to his feet so she could cup his face and study it. Peter broke into a sob at the action. 

His family remembered him. Maybe Pepper had really had been right. Maybe it really was going to be okay.

Tony came out twenty minutes later, expressing disappointment in the children's failure to be menaces in the middle of the night, but when he caught sight of the way Pepper held her sleeping children, Peter nestled to her side and Morgan nestled to his with Pepper's arm around the both of them, he stopped mid sentence, eyes wide and mouth agape. 

"You..." Pepper nodded and a massive smile formed on Tony's face as he looked to Peter. The child looked lighter. Long gone was the burdened and exhausted teen who'd been clawing his was to survive another day. The one who'd entered his house with painfully sad eyes and looked like he could drop simply dead if he missed one more meal or hour of sleep. 

This child was loved. Hurt, but okay. Healing, and loved. 

He too, felt a massive relief as he settled down, pulling Morgan part in his lap so he could hold both children close.

And Peter felt okay.

Chapter Text

Peter sat at the table with a cup of coffee and nothing else. He thought he might order a donut, but he wasn't sure he could eat it and it would probably be more strange sitting in front of an untouched donut than in front of coffee. He thought about pulling out schoolwork but remembered he wasn't a student.

Tony had a plan for that. He had a plan for everything.

Peter insisted they go about it the correct way- taking the ACT and getting recommendations from Matt and his manager and maybe someone he'd tempted for in the past. He brainstormed his essay and planned out what schools to apply to.

He planned for hours but Tony picked up the phone and he had three interviews lined up.

Peter argued it was nepotism, and Tony argued he'd simply dropped Peters GED score and mentioned an internship and there'd been hesitation on their part.

"Your supposed to-"

"When have I ever done anything because I'm supposed to."

"Well I'm not you, I want to get into a school on my own!"

"Peter, your a certifiable genius. I'm just speeding along the process." There'd been a massive fight and while Peter was pissed, he was a little relieved he could be pissed without worrying the person he got pissed at would just up and walk away.

In the end, they both relented. Tony wouldn't mess with the process if Peter went to the interviews.

He was applying for the following spring semester, one behind his former friends, who sat before him, chatting about how they were decorating their caps and gowns.

MJ was painting the Columbia mascot and Ned was making his Star Wars themed. They had plans to decorate them with Betty, Abe, Susan, and a few others. Peter looked down at the names of his former teammates and school friends.

"You graduating?" MJ asked, drawing Peter's attention from the table in front of him. He furrowed his eyebrows, but when he realized she was in fact looking at him, he shook his head.

"GED... but I'm looking at colleges." They'd chatted a few times, but never about Peter's life. He was good at avoiding such conversation.

"Really, where you wanna go?" She inquired.

"Dinner? With you?" The reply took both of them by surprise, a confidence Peter had lacked for a long time suddenly shinning through. The confidence only went so far as asking the questions, seeing how he was still a little awkward couldn't help but chuckled a little. "I didn't know I was going to say that." MJ smiled and laughed a little too. She's been heartbroken for a while, but she wasn't sure why. It was like she was reaching to hold onto something only to find her arms floating, nothing there to grasp, and she had no idea why. She'd written off dating, uninterested in trying to fit someone into that space who didn't belong, but for whatever reason, she didn't think about that when Peter was hanging around. So she didn't think about it now.

"That could have been a lot smoother." He laughed again. "But sure." A huge grin broke on his face. "Saturday night, 7pm. Meet me outside." He nodded. He wouldn't miss it for the world.

He looked at Ned now.

"I like your cap idea."

"You like Star Wars?"

"I love it. Take a picture of your cap for me, I'd love to see it." Ned didn't care one bit that the boy had been eves-dropping. He didn't know why he felt so compelled to ask what came next. Maybe it was that Peter never felt like a stranger, even when he sat there sipping his coffee. He'd seemed familiar from the day he first entered the shop. So he asked.

"Maybe you could come tonight and help me decorate it?" Surprised by the offer, Peter looked back at MJ. “Abe always makes way too many brownies. We need help eating them."

"That's how she says she wants you to come." Ned translated, but Peter knew.

"I'd love to."