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Chapter Text

“Wait, if you have your spidersense thing, why are you so clumsy?”

Peter, having already answered a hundred of Ned’s questions that day when his best friend had found out his secret identity, had sighed sharply, muttering a quick “ I don’t know,” while jotting down his notes in history. 

To this day, he still didn’t really have an answer. Sure, he could dodge punches without thinking about it, but not tripping while taking off his suit after patrol was apparently too much to ask. Peter cursed under his breath as he bonked his knee into his rusty bed frame, nearly faceplanting into the blanket as the spandex trapped his legs. It was oddly reminiscent of the move they’d pulled against the giant guy in Germany years ago.

No, think about years ago. Peter turned over so that he was sitting on the bed, now having the leverage to properly pull off the suit, pulling the legs back so they weren’t inside-out anymore. It isn’t years ago, it’s now. 

Once freed, he pulled on a t-shirt and sweats, running a hand through his sweaty curls and putting a pot of water on the stove to boil, abjectly ignoring the weird clank the old stovetop was making (his spidersense wasn’t going off, so that meant it was fine). He pulled his pasta out of the small pantry, and the bit of butter he had in the fridge. 

As he waited for the water to boil, he pulled his phone out and clicked over to Instagram; choosing to keep up with a smartphone was a bigger expense than was probably smart for him, but it allowed him to keep up a very vague social media account, and that was all that mattered.

He quickly searched up the only two profiles he cared about–he followed more so as to not come off as a weirdo, but only kept the app for these two. 

Ned posted often, so that was helpful. His most recent was of his team winning at the MIT robotics competition, Peter’s old friend with a big grin on his face, the background featuring what Peter could only assume to be his classmates and friends, cheering and high-fiving. A couple of the other photos in the post were taken by outsiders: Ned with a girl and a boy’s arms around his shoulders, all with gold medals around their necks, Ned holding up their winning robot. 

Peter wished he could say that he smiled at the scene. Wished he could say that a horrible seed of jealousy and bitterness wasn’t curling through his gut as he quickly navigated away from the profile, pulling up MJ’s instead.

His ex-girlfriend didn’t post very often, not-surprisingly, and when she did it was most often reposts of the different protests, activists and charities she followed. The most recent was from yesterday, but Peter wasn’t too worried; he’d seen a glimpse of her in the background of one of Ned’s photos, at least.

Just under a year ago they’d been opening their letters from MIT together, full of anticipation and grand plans for the future. 

Peter may have lost everything only a few days after that, but it was worth it to know that the two people alive most important to him got to fulfill some of those plans. 

He turned his phone off, adding the noodles and turning down the heat slightly. Patrol had gone long and exhausting this afternoon as he’d carried out an action-movie worthy car chase to catch a group of bank robbers. If his stomach wasn’t screaming at him so much to eat he’d just collapse on his old mattress and try to sleep the wounds away.

Not that he should be doing that anyways; he had half a dozen job applications to finish as quickly as he could. Even in a place as small and rundown as his, rent was high, and photography only made so much. Sometimes it frustrated Peter to no end–he couldn’t help but think of working in Mr. Stark’s lab, the man ruffling his hair and calling Peter “ a little genius, just like me,” promising him any SI job he wanted. And Mr. Stark had assured Peter over and over again that it wasn’t just favoritism–even though Peter was sure it mostly was–but that Peter would deserve any position he got. 

In the span of a year, Peter had gone from having the highest grades in Midtown and a promising future in the biggest tech country in the world–to getting rejected from Tony’s Pizzas. 

But bitter? 

Peter?

Never.

He drained the pasta, stirring in the butter and sitting back down on the bed. Like any broke 18 year old, he lived almost exclusively off pasta, when he wasn’t given free food while spidermanning. It was cheap, fast, and good for easy energy. After a long, dangerous patrol he could feel the bruises from, he was more than ready to sit down and relax for a bi–

There was a crash outside, followed by a scream.

It’s okay, Peter tensed. There are other vigilantes in the area, Spiderman can take a break for just a few more minutes to eat–

There were several more crashes, dozens of screams following the first.

Peter sighed, casting one last mournful look at his dinner before pulling his suit back on.

No rest for the weary, I guess.

/*/*/*/*/

“He looks like a moldy polar bear.”

Dr. Strange wrinkled his nose. “I know you’re known for your little remarks, but that one didn’t even make sense.”

Peter shrugged, perched on top of a lamppost. “I think I’m going on, like, ten hours of sleep in the last three days, buddy, I can say whatever I want.” Plus his injuries from patrol hadn’t had time to even start healing, and fighting a moldy polar bear thing with bruised ribs was not Peter’s idea of a good time.

Besides, it was always awkward working with Strange nowadays. Peter was never sure how much Strange remembered of the fight on the Statue of Liberty, besides knowing for certain that Strange had no idea who Spiderman was under the mask.

They didn’t team up often, but this was a multi-dimensional, out of control being–Strange’s territory–rampaging around Queens and screaming insults at Spiderman–Peter’s territory. It only made sense.

“Eyewitnesses heard him yelling something about ‘fear the Spot or die!’ so I’d go with that as his name.”

Peter sniffed. “I like Moldy Polar Bear better. Spot is a cliche dog’s name.”

“Whatever his name is, he needs to get back where he came from.”

Peter winced. “So I guess that means this is–”

“One of yours, yeah.”

The only other thing Strange seemed to know instinctively: the multiversal events from a year ago were entirely Peter’s fault.

Not that he was wrong.

“How have you not detected him before?”

“His power seems to be making portals, both within this plane and into others. I suspect he’s been controlling it enough, or even exiting this plane when I would go looking, in order to keep himself hidden. Though it didn’t get rid of him, that spell at Lady Liberty would have drained him considerably. He’s likely been using the last year to build up his power enough to make this attack.”

If he came through on the multiversal invasion last year, that meant that he knew Peter’s identity; the only reason his life hadn’t been flipped upside down again was because this guy had been too weak to retaliate before now.

“You can send him back, though, right?”

“Yes.”

“Guess that leaves me on distraction duty.”

When he looked back over, though, Strange was already gone, the sparks of his portal disappearing behind him, presumably to go grab that magic dimension cube from before, or another sorcerer tool to put this guy away.

Peter was glad that this Spot guy was the only person from his dimension here. It meant that if he was about to be sent back to a world where he’d die immediately, Peter could remain blissfully ignorant of the fact. He was a hero, and tried to save everyone he could whether they deserved it or not, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t sick of this inter-dimensional crap, wasn’t currently getting flashbacks to the last time he fought another Spiderman’s villain.

Shaking the thoughts away, he swung out to the epicenter of the chaos, only hoping that Spot would keep to yelling threats to “Spiderman” instead of “Peter Parker.”

The closest Peter had ever gotten to fighting something like the Spot was fighting Thanos on Titan, flying through Dr. Strange’s portals and timing his kicks to land properly. This was kinda like that, only with no prior knowledge of where he’d land, very little spatial awareness, and sometimes not even any control of if his body or part of his body was about to be teleported somewhere. The effect was rather dizzying; as much as he needed it, Peter was starting to regret even the bit of spaghetti he’d managed to get in his stomach.

“I’m not your Spiderman,” he grunted in between hits. It was probably useless; if this guy had been here as long as he and Strange thought, then surely the Spot knew that by now. “And I don’t want to fight you.” At least he hadn’t before Spot had ruined his dinner. Now he didn’t mind the fight.

Besides, the moldy polar bear didn’t seem to be listening to him anyways. With each yell, each insult and cry of rage the spotted villain gave, his spots seemed to grow bigger, almost with a gravitational pull to them. Rarely were they just redirecting Peter’s arms or legs anymore, but his entire body, shooting him out in an entirely different direction.

“I am no sidekick, ” the villain snarled from where a mouth used to be. “I am no joke, or a background problem, or a footnote in the great biography that is Spiderman, ” he spat, simultaneously dodging each of Peter’s strikes with ease. Peter wished he could say the same for himself.

“You’ll see.” The spots on the villain’s body were coalescing, fusing together on his body as his voice rose. “You’ll all see just how serious I am.”

Spot raised a hand towards Peter, the limb a swirling mess of black, white creeping back onto the edges of his body as all his energy seemed focused on that one hand. 

Peter’s spidersense warned him too late to fully dodge as the swirling black energy was shot towards him, the half of his body that had jumped away being sucked in by the force. Before Peter could scream, everything went black.

Chapter Text

Something Peter had learned quickly about memory spells was that they affected the brain, not the heart. Not muscle memory.

On the one hand, that meant it was very likely that Ned and MJ were out there at MIT, missing someone they didn’t even know the name of anymore. He’d bet MJ still played with the broken black dahlia necklace when she was nervous, or that Ned could still do their secret handshake without thinking about it if he tried. On the one hand, it meant that, by keeping his friends safe, he had caused them deep confusion and a sense of something missing that he could only hope would fade soon enough.

The rule didn’t just apply to people who’d had fond memories of him, though. Most of New York still seemed to hate his guts, even if they couldn’t remember why. Just earlier this week he’d saved an old lady from getting her purse snatched, only to have to dodge a swing from the thing the next second, her muttering in Spanish as she walked away about him being a murderer. 

The world might not know Peter Parker anymore, but what they did know? Spiderman was public enemy number one. In lieu of knowing exactly why with all digital and physical evidence wiped of him, J. Jonah Jameson had been coming up with increasingly outlandish theories and explanations for why Spiderman was not to be trusted. The latest was that the vigilante was the lost seventh child of Thanos, biding his time to bring the titan back to life and finish the job started so many years ago.

Peter wasn’t sure what it said about the state of the world that so many people actually believed that one.

At this point, he was more used to being spat at than cheered for. Which was why he startled so badly when he opened his eyes to see a middle aged woman standing over him with a concerned look, his spidersense somehow not pinging in danger.

He scrambled to his feet, ready to dodge another purse or something worse. 

“Are you okay, Spiderman?” Was all she asked, though, holding out her hands pacifyingly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What–” Peter coughed for just a moment, his body feeling a bit weird. “What happened?”

The woman shrugged. “I’m not sure. I heard a crash from around the corner and wondered what was going on, only to find you collapsed on the ground. Are you hurt?”

Peter shook his head reflexively, despite the aches from the recent fight still being very prominent across his body. “I’m fine, thank you. Did you see where he went?”

“Who? I’m afraid I didn’t see who you were fighting . . .”

Peter furrowed his brows under the mask. The fight with the Spot had taken place in the middle of the street in broad daylight, and Peter had been alerted to it after hearing dozens of screams in the street. Had the fight been shorter than he remembered, and there really hadn’t been many witnesses? That seemed impossible in Queens, though; some foolish bystander was always bound to be hiding around the corner with a smartphone, recording the whole thing, if not a news camera doing so from the skies, broadcasting it to the entire state. 

He shook the thoughts away, though. No matter what had happened, this woman didn’t seem to be lying when she said she didn’t know what had happened. 

“That’s okay, I’ll find them. Thank you for your concern, ma’am. He stepped further into the light, and the woman gasped a bit. 

“What happened to your suit?”

Peter looked down for rips or tears in the material, but there was nothing that needed repaired, just some scuffs and stains from the fight. Nothing a load in the wash with his homemade extra-strength detergent wouldn’t fix. Everyone knew what his new suit looked like by now, he’d been wearing it for months.

“Nothing happened to it, ma’am. I need to get going, give a shout if you need anything!”

He leapt fifteen feet onto the wall next to him, bounding off the side of it to get to the rooftop. He scanned the city from the top, but no matter where he looked he couldn’t see any sign of the Spot, nor of Dr. Strange. That alone wasn’t too surprising; if Strange had managed to send the Spot back, he wasn’t likely to stick around and walk Peter back home. 

But there was the slightest buzz at the back of Peter’s neck telling him that something was wrong. There was no immediate danger about to fly at him, but something was . . . wrong. He hated that he wasn’t able to glean anything more specific from his instincts, but his tingle had never included direct communication, unfortunately.

Peter had been sucked into one of Spot’s–well, spots–before he’d blacked out. During the fight, Spot had been shown to be able to use his spots to teleport anywhere. Had Peter been spat out somewhere? Was he even in Queens anymore, or in some far-off city in New York?

Because it clearly was New York, a quick glance could tell him. 

A slightly longer look confirmed that, yes, this actually was Queens: he could hear Mr. Delmar’s voice from not too far off, smell the brand of coffee served at the diner MJ used to work at. 

So he was still in Queens. Though someone didn’t recognize his suit or have any memory of the fight he had just been a part of. 

The feeling at his neck increased ever so slightly. 

Maybe he should try to find Dr. Strange.

Apart from meeting his own doubles, Peter had had no good come from the multiverse so far. He would have to proceed with caution in this world, since it was likely his suspicions were correct and he was indeed a world away from where he’d come from. 

Hoping that Dr. Strange’s workplace was the same here as it was in his own world, he prepared to swing out towards Bleecker Street. However, it didn’t take him long to figure out his biggest mistake in all of this: his webshooters. He had been running dangerously low on fluid since yesterday, and had been planning to sneak into Midtown after dark to make more. At this rate, Peter wouldn’t have enough webs to get him to the Sanctum.

He sighed. Walking it was.

He easily leaped to the neighboring rooftop, keeping an eye on the city below him to make sure the buildings and general layout were what he remembered from his own universe.

He’d only gone about a block, running jumping between building rooftops, when he heard the cry for help. 

Peter looked down from the edge of the rooftop, where a woman and her crying young son were being threatened by a would-be robber. Different universe, same muggers.

It only took him going halfway down the wall before the boy spotted him, Peter placing a finger to his lips and hoping the kid would get the message. He did, for better or worse; the boy didn’t cry out verbally that Spiderman was there, but him staring up at the side of the wall with his mouth open certainly did attract attention from the man with the gun.

Without waiting for the guy to truly spot the vigilante on the wall, Peter pushed off from the brick with his feet, tackling the man in a hold and rolling both of them to the ground. Without his webs to help restrain the assailant, he settled for carefully squeezing around the man’s neck until he was unconscious on the ground, taking his knives from him and tossing them in the nearby dumpster.

He turned to the would-be victims, doing his best to convey a smile from behind the mask. This world didn’t seem to hate Spiderman like Peter’s own, but that assumption was only based off of one encounter with one woman. There was no guarantee this family would feel the same way.

Any fears were squashed when the mother grinned shakily up at him, raising a hand to her mouth in relief. She seemed to debate with herself before giving in and surging forward, wrapping her arms around Peter’s neck.

“Thank you,” She whispered emphatically before pulling back, not-so-inconspicuously swiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should have known you would come, you always do.”

Peter didn’t know how to react at first; it had been a long time since someone had reacted to a rescue from him with such joy and relief. 

“I–of course, ma’am, I’m happy to do it. You wouldn’t mind calling 911 for me, would you?”

The woman was already pulling her phone out. “Right, of course, I–”

“What happened to your suit?”

The little boy’s question was innocent but hard to answer. Peter hesitated for a second before giving a lame, “You know, just–trying something new out. What do you think, kid?”

The boy seemed to be giving it real thought, looking over the new blue and red suit with a critical eye. When he did speak, it wasn’t what Peter had expected.

“Can I feel it?”

Peter saw the boy’s mom give him an apologetic look from where she was still on the phone, but Peter waved it off, nodding easily. “Have at it, kid. Making sure it’s comfortable for me?”

The boy hummed as he patted the shiny blue material on Peter’s sides, rubbing gently at the arms and gloves.

“It feels like a different material than the last time you let me feel it,” he said at last. “But interesting. Do you think you’ll still use the other one, too? Have the suits take turns?”

Peter shrugged. He certainly wasn’t going to change suits, but surely the native Spiderman to this world would still patrol sometimes, and clearly his suit was different. “I guess you’ll just have to keep an eye out and see, won’t you?”

The little boy’s voice was simultaneously very serious and eager when he nodded and said, “I will.”

Something in Peter’s chest panged; talking and interacting with kids on patrol had always been his favorite part of the job, and it had hurt that so many parents this past year would pull their kids away from him, glaring, or kids with their lack of a verbal filter would ask him about why he killed Mysterio, or why he tried to kill a ton of people in London, or why he tried to destroy the Statue of Liberty.

It was startling how nice it felt to get some of that back.

“The police are on the way,” The mom interrupted his internal crisis. “Thank you again, Spiderman. We’re lucky you were here.” 

“No thanks needed, ma’am.” Peter hoped it didn’t show how much he wanted to run at the mention of the police. “Stay safe, alright?”

He hopped out of the alleyway back to the rooftops, smiling as a shouted “Good luck with your suit, Spiderman!” followed him.

Once he was far enough away from the police sirens to ease the discomfort in his chest, he paused. He was only a couple of blocks from the Sanctum–surely he could afford to take a bit of a delayed route, right?

Spiderman wasn’t about fame, or having his name screamed in excitement from the streets–the last year had proved that more than anything. When Peter scaled down the building and started making his way through the streets instead, he wasn’t looking for people to swarm him for autographs or reveal I Love Spidey t-shirts or something. Parkouring across street lamps, the sides of buildings and fountains, Peter was doing it, at the very least, for the people of Queens to see the exciting view of Spiderman flipping through the city. That was it–certainly not for any enjoyment of Peter’s.

Peter knew it was probably a bad idea for him to be out so publicly; his suit was already distinctly different, and though he wasn’t sure of the time or even the day of the week, there was still every possibility that this world’s Spiderman was out patrolling now. 

But with every child’s grin and excited fingers pointing his way, with every grateful citizen that asked him for a photo or a handshake, with every smile that met the sight of him instead of a scowl–Peter felt that conviction dissolve more and more.

Even so, his goal remained to find Dr. Strange, figure out what was happening, and get back to his own world.

Until, that is, one question from none other than Betty Brant, his classmate that he hadn’t seen off a news screen in over a year, changed everything.

“One question, Spiderman,” she had requested when he had touched down in response to her waving. “Is it true that you and the rest of the Avengers will be doing a charity event for the Queens’ Pediatric Hospital next week?”

Peter was about to give a quick, standard answer when the details of the question fully caught up with him. “Wait–the Avengers?”

As in, the official group of plural superheroes, still banded together here and–much more importantly–all alive ?

All alive?

Alive ?

That one word kept ricocheting around Peter’s head, screaming at him like an alarm, a foghorn, a call for something he had to latch onto before it disappeared again. 

“Spiderman?” Betty asked, frowning, because he had never answered her question, had barely given it any thought beside the detail that, to her, had probably been painfully obvious.

“I have to–” Peter swallowed, his throat tight, “have to–yeah.”

He was in the air before he finished the cut-off sentence, flipping off a nearby car roof onto an apartment building and launching himself to the top as fast as he could get there. Once on the roof he doubled over, doing his best to get in whatever he could qualify as a “deep breath.”

The Avengers were still together here. Betty hadn’t said any specific names, but it was possible that could include . . . 

He was supposed to be finding Dr. Strange. He was supposed to be getting back to his own world so that he didn’t risk creating another multiversal disaster that could kill billions. He was supposed to be doing the selfless thing, like he’d done his best to do since his selfishness had nearly destroyed his entire world.

He was supposed to be doing anything except what he was doing, which was finding a clothing donation box, taking the first things from it that looked like they might fit him along with a patched-up backpack, retreating back to a short roof with a blind spot from any cameras and changing out of his suit into a loose-fitting t-shirt and sweatpants, stuffing the suit into the bag and swinging it onto his shoulders.

Whether another Peter was here or not, the fact remained that Peter had found himself in a world with even the slightest chance that Tony Stark could be alive. Even if it was only for a little bit in a place he didn’t belong, Peter had the chance to see someone he hadn’t seen in so, so long.

Trusting that the Queens’ Public Library was in the same place as his own world, Peter started his walk determinedly, thinking of all the other people he could look up once there, too.

Chapter Text

It was only Peter’s respect for public libraries keeping him from simultaneously laughing and sobbing aloud, dangerously close to shaking a fist at God and screaming why.

Why had things happened for him the way they had?

Why couldn’t this world be his?

Why couldn’t he be more like this world’s Peter Parker?

That last one, especially, made all the difference. Peter himself, he had learned long ago, managed few things as well as he did screwing things up. From the entire handling of the Vulture incident to giving Beck EDITH and nearly ripping the universe apart. As much as Peter tried, he knew he was a pretty poor excuse for a hero.

This world’s Peter Parker, though, was anything but. Tony Stark was indeed alive in this world, and the reason why? It hadn’t been him to use the stones on that horrible day. 

This Peter had gotten a hold of the gauntlet during the fight, just like Peter himself had years ago. Instead of continuing to run to get it to the guy with the van, though, this Peter made the split-second decision to shove his hand into the gauntlet–well, more like he shoved his hand in partway, that thing was not made for a Peter Parker-sized hand–thought the magic words or however the stones worked, and defeated Thanos’ entire army, all at once. He had clapped instead of snapped, of course, his hand utterly unable to manipulate the gauntlet, but the effect was still the same. In a parody of five years prior, all the attacking aliens, including Thanos himself, were dusted away. 

There wasn’t much account of what happened after. Obviously Spiderman survived, but at what cost? Peter could only imagine intense hospital visits, Tony making all the doctors sign piles of NDAs to keep them from revealing Spiderman’s identity, of holding his hand before his parallel went into possible surgery, of Tony smiling softly at him as he introduced his young daughter, in this world maybe even Peter’s–

Peter swallowed, shaking his head. It didn’t matter what scars this Peter had, or how, exactly, he’d survived. It didn’t matter what time he and Tony had gotten to spend together, didn’t even matter, in the end, what time he and May had gotten to spend together. The fact of the matter remained that this wasn’t Peter’s world.

The right thing to do was still to log out of this computer, grab the backpack and go back on his way to the Sanctum. The right thing to do was to get to Dr. Strange, explain what had happened, and see if there was any way for the ex-Sorcerer Supreme to get him home. 

Because that’s what Peter wanted, was to go home where he belonged. It was still only midmorning, he had plenty of time to find Strange and get back. He needed to face the consequences of his actions, to be responsible for the way things had turned out, and continue to protect Queens, whether the people of Queens liked it or not.

With great power, there must also come great responsibility.

This was where Peter’s power had gotten him, so this was him taking responsibility. This was him leaving the library and . . . turning away from the direction of Bleecker Street, going, it seemed, anywhere else.

/*/*/*/*/

For a while, Peter Parker had been the king of planning for the future. He knew where he’d go to college, what jobs he would get, what friends he would have, exactly how his life would go.

The first and biggest pothole in that roadmap was the spider bite, of course. That hadn’t been anywhere in his five-year-plan. Everything after, from getting recruited for Germany to deleting his identity from the world, kind of made it hard to plan past what he was having for dinner, not to mention any long-term plans. People who didn’t exist had a hard time obtaining a future.

Suffice to say, over the last couple of years Peter has gotten decent at throwing a plan together last minute, at rolling with whatever situation presented itself.

He was relying on those skills more than a bit right now. Even planning to his next meal sounded daunting.

There was nowhere for him to stay in this world. He had no money, and no clear or easy ways to get it–his face under the mask was recognizable to anyone in the city that knew him, and he didn’t need those complications. He had no ID, no bus pass or resources, and no plan. The realities of his situation were setting in, and only provided half a dozen more reasons why Peter had to go find Strange and get back to his world where he at least had a roof over his head–and yet still he didn’t.

Instead of doing the sensible thing, he was swinging through the city at three in the afternoon. His stomach rumbled at each flip; he hadn’t been able to eat dinner before being tossed here, and several hours had passed so far. There was a time change in this universe, Peter arriving in the late morning, but the fact remained that Peter hadn’t eaten for over half a day’s worth of time. He tuned out those less-than-fun thoughts by throwing himself into Spidermanning, leaving the planning for later.

Daytime patrols were bound to be less crime-ridden than ones in the evening, criminals not quite as bold without the cover of darkness, but there was still plenty to do. Giving directions, assisting a harried woman with her groceries, and doing backflips, much to the delight of a group of young kids at the park. Evening patrols might see him saving more lives, but Peter always had a special kind of love for daytime interactions with people–especially when they didn’t have such a strong bias against him already.

Even without his spidersense, Peter’s instincts for danger had gotten more fine-tuned lately. Able to tell him when he should avoid turning a corner, or when someone had been staring at him a bit too long and it was time to leave this space, actually. Which is why, even without his spidersense warning him of the danger, he should have known better than to get involved in that mugging.

The boy flinched and started to twist a second before the man ran up from behind him, grabbing the backpack from where it was hanging off one of the kid’s shoulders and knocking the boy off-balance. The kid shouted in alarm, starting to sprint after the man just in time for Peter to jump down from above, dropping down just close enough to clip the man on the shoulder and knock him to the ground. He grabbed the bag, holding it out to the kid as he placed a stabilizing foot on the would-be-mugger until someone called the police.

“Here you g– oh.”

Peter stared.

Oh. 

The most recent article on Spiderman he’d read at the library placed this year at about September 2024, a little more than a year behind Peter’s own world.

And it was half-past three on a Tuesday.

What had Peter been expecting to happen?

The backpack suddenly felt much heavier in his hands, as if the Spiderman suit that most likely lay inside suddenly weighed a ton.

In a literal mirror image, the other Peter Parker stared straight back at him, eyes just as wide as Peter’s own. The other boy’s mouth hung open for a good minute–only a few seconds longer than Peter’s own–and he blinked rapidly as he unfroze, as if he could wake up from a bizarre dream.

“S- Spiderman? What–how–how are you–”

Peter had never wanted to escape an awkward social situation faster in his life. “Well–glad you’re okay, here’syourstuffsorrybye.”

And, having accomplished the one thing he’d been so badly hoping to avoid in this world, Peter leapt up to the nearest rooftop as fast as he could, not caring about the mugger surely getting away now, his mind fixed on sprinting across the top of the cityscape and getting as far away as he could.

/*/*/*/*/*/

Peter had never changed into his suit so fast.

In thirty seconds Peter had ducked around the nearest corner, thrown his clothes into his backpack and shimmied into his suit, frantically pressing the spider emblem and not even waiting for it to compress all the way before tapping at his webshooters and flinging himself to the rooftop.

The other Spiderman– Who was it? The suit was different, but how had they managed the same agility and strength? What was going on?-- had gained a good distance while Peter had been changing. He couldn’t even see the other man anymore, but if he focused he could hear heaving breaths a few blocks away, and slapping feet in boots covered in spandex.

Running. That meant, surely, that at least Peter’s web formula was safe, right? That even if this guy was some sort of weird copycat, he didn’t know everything about Spiderman.

Unlike the copycat Spiderman, Peter did have webs. He tried to filter out the rest of the city noise, focusing on the other man’s harsh breaths and mumbled voice, confirming that it was the same one that had spoken to him only a minute before. With his webshooters, it would only be a matter of time before Peter caught up to him.

“Karen, alert Tony to what’s going on,” he ordered the AI. “I don’t think it’s an emergency yet, but make sure he’s on standby.”

“Right away, Peter.”

Once the imposter Spiderman was in his sights, Peter aimed down several strikes of webbing, enough to keep even the bulkiest of thugs down–which this guy was definitely not. Peter landed on the rooftop in a smooth roll, jumping to his feet and expecting a captive audience. What he got, though, was the sight of the other Spiderman also hopping to his feet, shaking off the webbing like it was tissue paper.

“ Dude.” Peter nearly groaned. Learning that this guy had superstrength was not hat he needed today. “Do you mind? Those webs take resources, so show some respect and stay stuck to the ground like a good opponent, will you?”

“I’m not your opponent,” The other man shook his head. Peter frowned; the other man’s voice was different now, almost as if he were deliberately deepening it for effect–effect that was not coming off as well as he was probably hoping. It sounded more like a pre-teen trying to sneak into an R-rated film and convince the cashier that, yes, he is very much an Adult Man. “I’m not here to fight you. For both of our sakes, you should just walk away. Forget you ever saw me, and I promise you’ll never see me again.”

“No can do, Spidey-2.0,” he wagged a finger reproachfully, even as questions and considerations ran laps through his head. “The suit is one thing–I know how to sew, too, you know–but the strength? The wall parkour? The agility that makes people question if I have bones? Bold of you to let you assume I’ll let you leave without an explanation on those.”

The other Spiderman shifted, and Peter tensed, ready for another chase even if it wasn’t the preferred course of action. He’d prefer to web the man down and have that aforementioned captive audience, but that option clearly wasn’t about to happen.

“You run, and I’ll chase you,” Peter warned. 

When the other Spiderman answered, the tone didn’t match his words. It wasn’t smug, or teasing or triumphant. It was . . . resigned. 

“There are some places you can’t swing after me to.”

And now what was that supposed to mean?

“Is that so? If you mean places across the ocean, I regret to inform you that airplanes are indeed a thing, and if you’ve forgotten, and I do happen to be pretty close with a guy who has multiple private jets.”

To Peter’s surprise, the man actually flinched at that. “I-I’m sorry. I never meant to run into you, and that’s stupid, I know, I just–” the man’s voice trembled slightly, and he shook his head. “I need to go.”

“Wait!” 

Peter couldn’t let him leave yet! He hadn’t gotten any answers–he still didn’t know who this guy was, or how he seemed able to copy some of Peter’s abilities, or what threat level he might pose. Sure, he had stopped that mugger from running off with Peter’s bag, but Peter knew it was possible that there was a longer plan at work here.

He leaped off the building after him, listening again for his distinct breaths, the smell of spandex–and eventually found it–

In a dumpster not a mile from where Peter had first encountered the guy.

Peter cursed. A quick glance to the streets proved them full of people, and there was a park nearby that was nearly always busy. Whoever had been under the mask, they were gone now, and there was no easy way to find him; when it was just Peter chasing him across some rooftops, it was simple to follow the scent of spandex, or the sound of running footsteps. A walking, probably nondescript guy surrounded by the scents of hundreds of other people, though? A bit less simple.

Peter looked back at the dumpster, considering.

Not every trace of him was gone, though.

“Karen?”

“ Yes, Peter?”

“Tell Tony I’ll be over in a few minutes, and to have the DNA scanner fired up. I’ve got something for him to analyze.”

Chapter Text

Tony wasn’t having the best day even before the alert. Morgan had thrown a fit about going to school because a girl yesterday had called her hair ugly, Pepper had forced him into not one, but two– two! --finance meetings, and now Peter’s AI called in to tell him that Peter was facing a delay in coming over to the tower. Apparently it wasn’t something he had to worry about yet–though he could rarely trust Peter’s judgment on these things–and Tony was just itching to call up a suit and meet Peter wherever he was now.

He was dangerously close to doing just that when FRIDAY announced that Peter was swinging towards the tower at that moment. Sighing with both relief and slight irritation, Tony made sure a window was open, just before the brightly colored hero flew through the opening, rolling swiftly before popping back up to his feet.

“There’s the man of the hour,” Tony said, trying not to give away how relieved he was to see the kid safe. “What was that anomaly Karen told me about?”

“Um, so at first I kinda thought it was nothing, but then he started running and flipping between buildings, and so it seemed a bit less like nothing; I couldn’t find him when I tried to run after him but then I found this that he was wearing, and I was hoping–”

“Peter.”

“That FRIDAY could use the DNA scanner to figure out who was in the suit, because it this isn’t nothing then it’s probably something and if it’s something then, you know, I wanted to be ready for it–”

“ Peter.”

The kid looked up at him. “Yeah?”

Tony rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I’m gonna need that repeated, a lot slower.”

“Oh.” Peter blinked, a bit of pink heating his cheeks. “Right. Can we do it on the way to the lab, though? FRIDAY has the scanner up, right?”

“Yes, though it’d be nice to know exactly why. Let’s walk and talk.”

Peter finished his story–in that long winded, quippy fashion that Tony had grown so fond of–just as FRIDAY was loading the results of the DNA analysis onto the screen. Tony had to admit, he was just as curious about the results as Peter seemed to be. The man this suit belonged to didn’t use any webs, but other than that he seemed to have multiple of Peter’s own powers; Peter had even recalled him using a bit of the sticking ability. Tony was ready for some answers.

When the result finally loaded onto the screen, though, all they were left with were more questions.

“That’s–” Peter balked. “That’s not right, though, right? Did we somehow use a piece of the fabric I’d been touching?”

“No. We made sure to get one from the inside, you were holding it by the outside. If we had gotten a piece you’d had contact with, we’d have a problem with cross-contamination; we’d be more likely to be seeing two differing samples, not this. Whoever was in that suit, they have the DNA of Peter Parker, even accounting for the way the spider-bite changed your DNA.”

“But I’m Peter Parker!”

Tony raised a brow. “Sure you don’t have a super secret twin out there?”

Peter scoffed, with just a hint of hysteria. “Even if I did, I simply refuse to believe in the odds that 1) we both became vigilantes and 2) that he’d copy my suit so exactly. I’m pretty sure any self-respecting twin with identical powers would be creative enough to make his own design.”

“Okay, then. I will admit that it was a long shot.”

“Even so, what other option is there?”

Tony hummed in thought. He’d been by someone that was his exact copy once, after all. 

“I’ve got an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It might be a longer shot than your secret twin, but then again, it might not be. FRIDAY, track sightings from rooftop and city cameras. Find me an exact lookalike to Peter Parker. Adjust for age within, oh, let’s say up to ten years.”

Peter furrowed his brows in confusion for a moment before it dawned on him. “Wait. You think this guy’s a time traveler?”

Tony shrugged. “Makes more sense than anything else. You said he had a different suit, that his voice was a bit different. It would account for the DNA match, as well as the powers.”

“I mean . . . yeah, I guess. But why? Why would he travel back here? The only thing that made you risk time travel last time was to save half the universe. And it brought so much danger back with it–why would someone risk that again?”

“I don’t know.” He had to remind himself that now wasn’t the best time to remind Peter that no, Tony hadn’t done it for half the universe. Saving half the universe hadn’t been enough for him; only the thought of getting the rest of his universe back had made the risk worth it.

Hmm.

Now, that thought gave him pause. Not that he could be sure of anything at this point. But if he was right, he could admit he understood why a different Peter would be here.

What he couldn’t understand was why this different Peter wouldn’t be here, in the tower.

“You said this other Spiderman told you to leave?”

Peter nodded. “I believe his exact words were ‘forget you ever saw me and I promise you’ll never see me again.’ Quite dramatic.”

“Hmm.” He shut off the hologram. “FRIDAY, you got anything for me?”

“I have a likely sighting, walking towards Bleecker Street.”

“Perfect. Load the coordinates into my suit, quickest route.” He turned to the kid. “Wanna help me catch a spider?”

/*/*/*/*/*/

“What do you mean, he can’t portal back here?”

The man–Wong, Peter remembered now, though he’d had a hard time recalling it when the Sanctum first let him back in–gave what Peter could only describe as a cross between a sigh of disapproval and a thoughtful hum. “Peter, I know you’re busy but you were there for–” he stopped, narrowing his eyes. “Wait. Who are you? You’re–”

“Not our Peter Parker, that’s for sure. Hope you don’t mind, we came in through the back, I thought it’d be both more dramatic and draw less of a crowd.”

Peter whirled around, his knees nearly buckling beneath him.

It’d been so long since he’d seen Tony Stark alive.

Tony Stark, with his trademark facial hair and motor oil on his t-shirt and a Spiderman Band-Aid around his pinky finger. Stepping out of the Iron Man suit, eyes studying and calculating and alive, accompanied by–

Peter, now unable to hide behind a mask, couldn’t keep himself from looking down, to the side, anywhere except facing his alternate’s eyes. His alternate who never would have screwed up bad enough to even fail at leaving the mess he’d made. This world’s Peter took off his mask once they were secure from the public eye, confirming Peter’s assumption that, while not the whole world, many in the hero community had been allowed to know Spiderman’s identity here.

Wong stared between them, looking seconds away from stress-rubbing at his temples. “Stark. I presume you have an explanation for this?”

“Only a theory.” He turned to Peter, who now couldn’t look away. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

Peter stumbles back, eyes wide as if from a physical blow. But he couldn’t–how could he know? Wordlessly, Peter nodded.

“And you came here to stop that from happening.”

Wait. That was–Peter frowned, shaking his head. 

“I wasn’t–I didn’t come here on purpose, it was this-this spotted guy. He threw a spot at me, and then I was–you think I’m from the future?”

He winced; he hadn’t meant for it to come off that judgemental, it was just . . . yeah, time travel probably would have solved a lot of his problems recently. Or caused a whole host of new ones, knowing how things usually go for him.

This world’s Peter spoke up, stepping forward. “Well, if you aren’t from the future, then where are you from?”

“Another universe,” Wong interjected. He looked Peter in the eye. “Aren’t you?”

It wasn’t really a question, though. Peter nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Whoa, another what ?” The other Peter’s eyes widened. “Since when is the multiverse real?”

“It always has been,” Wong said. He sighed. “Come upstairs. I think we’re all owed a few explanations.”

Turned out, the reason Dr. Strange wasn’t able to portal over was because he was currently doing some multiversal travel of his own. Wong recounted a story of a giant, multiversal beast chasing after a teenage girl a couple of days ago. In this world, Spiderman and Iron Man had also been available to help stop it, but Spiderman had sustained a bad injury, being shuttled immediately to the Medbay for stitching. Consequently, neither he nor Iron Man had been there for the talk Wong and Strange had had with the girl afterwards, or for when Strange and her went off into another world themselves.

Peter vaguely remembered that same event in his own world–he’d intended to help, but he’d suffered a gunshot wound in the abdomen the night before, and as soon as he stood up to change into his suit and help he almost immediately blacked out from the pain, collapsing back onto his bed. He winced; that wound had ended up getting a bit infected, taking forever to heal. His healing factor had been slower ever since the Statue of Liberty.

“She could travel the multiverse,” Peter summarized. “That sounds like the guy who sent me here. Except he wasn’t a girl, obviously. I’m not even sure if he was even technically human, anymore . . . but I don’t think he had full control over it, either. By the way he was yelling at me, if he was able to control it he would have sent me to a world worse than mine, not–not this.”

The other Peter looked irritated, and Peter did his best not to wince. 

“Can you send me back?” He asked Wong, instead.

The Sorcerer Supreme took a deep breath. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know. The multiverse is something we know terribly little about; technically, it was only just confirmed a few days ago. There’s no way that your being here is safe for the multiversal stability, but as of now I’m afraid I don’t know how to fix such an issue. I would need to consult the ancient texts, find a way to safely get you back to your world.” He huffed. “Maybe if we’re lucky, America will return soon enough that we can get her to send you back.”

Peter nodded, standing. Whatever it took, he was willing to go back. He wouldn’t put another world in danger. “Either way is good with me, sir. Thank you.”

“Wait.” Tony stood, too. “Where are you going? I mean, where will you go? In the meantime, until the magician figures it out? Where are you staying?”

Peter shrugged, as if he’d given any thought to where he’d be staying, with no way to thermoregulate in the middle of autumn in Queens. “I’ll figure something out, it’s okay. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I think you’ll find that worrying about Peter Parker isn’t a one-universe thing,” Tony corrected him. “I know you’re not going to do anything mentally or physically healthy if you leave here by yourself, and if I’m worried I’m just going to stay up late and end up with Pep yelling at me, so how about we kill those two birds with the one stone and have you just come stay at the tower while Wongers here consults those ancient texts?”

Peter was shaking his head before he finished speaking, though. “That’s not necessary. Th-thank you, but I really couldn’t–”

“Why not?”

It was the first time Peter’s alternate of this world had spoken to him since knowing the truth of who he was. There were too many emotions to read in his eyes, Peter not bothering to keep track past the curiosity, confusion and frustration.

Because I don’t know how to face a world where one better choice would have given me all of this. Because I can’t bear the thought of hurting any of you. Because just looking at you and Tony Stark together makes something in me shatter.

“It’s a long story.”

“Is it extra dangerous?” The other Peter asked Wong, now. “To have both of us in the tower for a bit, or for us to be around each other?”

“Like I said, we know very little about the multiverse. It could be perfectly safe, or it could result in the destruction of both our universes. You both have spoken to each other and been in the same room together without any disastrous consequences yet, but just to be safe I suggest the two of you stay out of the same building as much as you can.”

“There, see?” Peter said. “Another reason why I shouldn’t stay in the tower. I’m sure your Peter is over there all the time, and if we don’t know if it could end up with everyone getting hurt, I should just find somewhere else to stay.”

“It should not take too long to determine how to get you back,” Wong said. “I’m sure Peter can stand not going to the tower until then.”

The other Peter nodded immediately, though Peter himself could see the slight hesitation in his eyes. “Of course. The most important part is that you’re safe. It’s not for long, so it’s not like it’s a big inconvenience.”

Peter turned his eyes to the floor. It didn’t sound like he’d be allowed to win this argument.

Wong not-so-subtly shooed them out, seeing the matter settled. He opened a portal for the three of them, and Peter’s throat closed at the sight of Tony’s lab on the other side. It was only the sorcerer’s impatient clearing of the throat that got him to walk through.

After once-or-twice weekly visits to the tower after the Homecoming incident for a few months, Peter liked to think he knew Tony Stark’s personal lab pretty well. From the Iron Man suits lined up against the wall to the wall of materials and parts set up in boxes of organized chaos, to the table next to Tony’s personal workstation filled with a notebook covered in Peter’s own handwriting. It looked more like he’d time-traveled to a lab-day from before Tony’s death than entered someone else’s space.

Because this was someone else’s space. Peter didn’t belong here, and soon he was going to go back to where he did belong.

Alone.

Tony cleared his throat, the portal closing behind them. “Come on upstairs. I’ll show you where you can stay.”

Peter nodded numbly, turning to follow the alternate of his mentor when something caught his eye. He froze, the numbness doused from him like he’d been hit with ice water.

“ Did you cut apart my suit?”

A swatch still sat inside the DNA scanner, Peter’s information displayed on the screen. The rest of it had been laid on a nearby chair. Peter grabbed it, his stomach sinking at the hole cut straight out of the front.

The other Peter did have the sense to blush in shame. “We had to make sure you weren’t a threat,” he said, his voice small.

“Relax,” Tony popped the swatch out of the scanner. “I’ll get it fixed. If you ask me, it looks like you’re due for an upgrade anyways. Did I not give you your high-tech suit in your world?”

Peter borderline seethed, grabbing the swatch back. “I don’t need you to fix it. I can do it myself.”

As if he could still use those suits, as if the software didn’t reject him every time he tried to put it on now. AIs couldn’t recognize someone that didn’t exist.

Tony raised his hands in surrender. “I’m sure you can, didn’t mean to insinuate otherwise. Now, it’s been a long day for everyone, and I know I have a lot of questions I’d like to ask you in the morning. So, do you want to head upstairs so you can get some rest?”

Peter hesitated, the suit clutched in his hands, anger at its partial destruction still simmering beneath the surface. 

“Are the Avengers upstairs?”

“Some of them.”

He swallowed. “And we have to go past them, don’t we?”

Tony gave him a long look. “I have so many questions about your world. No, we don’t have to go past them; I’m taking you to a guest suite on my personal floor, so that you have some extra space to settle in. It is likely that you’ll run into them in the next few days, though, so I’m going to tell them the situation after you’re situated.” He turned to the other Peter. “I’ll call up Happy to take you back to May’s.”

Peter almost choked, his grip tightening subconsciously until he felt the spandex rip even more in his hands. Tony turned back to him at the noise, his face searching for something Peter didn’t know how to name–but he knew he didn’t like it. Seeing Tony Stark alive was a miracle, but that didn’t mean Peter had to appreciate these looks he kept getting.

“Or maybe, if she can, you can ask her to come get you herself. Tell her I’ll reimburse her for the gas money if that’s a problem.”

The other Peter rolled his eyes. “You know she won’t accept the payment. But fine, I’ll call her.”

“Good. Wait in the lobby, I’ll be down soon to see you off.”

With nothing more to protest, Peter followed his old mentor upstairs, startling a bit as FRIDAY spoke in the elevator; it’d been so long since he’d heard her voice, just different enough from EDITH’s. 

“Boss, Mini-Boss is asking for you on the common floor.”

“Tell her I’ll be down soon, Fri.”

“ Of course, sir. She was asking if Peter will be joining you for dinner tonight?”

He glanced over at Peter, who shook his head. “Not tonight, I’m afraid.”

“Understood. I’ll pass along the message now.”

“Thanks, Fri.”

Peter cleared his throat as the elevator doors opened. “That–was that about–” he paused, trying to remember her name, “Morgan?”

Tony nodded, before frowning. “Do–did I still . . . have her, in your world?”

“Yeah. I don’t know much about her now, though. I never officially met her, just saw her from afar at the–” he swallowed, not quite able to say funeral in front of a Tony that was still alive, lest that somehow put the possibility into this world. “But yeah. She’s always been kept out of the public eye, so I don’t know much about her now.”

“I’m glad. That she’s out of the public eye, I mean. It was a hard decision, bringing her to the tower, but I was determined to make being part of the team work again, and it meant we were closer to Peter. I will say, though, that the first–and only –reporter that made her cry got a gauntlet blast about two inches from their face and blacklisted from every journal in the country. We’ve had relative ease with it after that.”

That image, at least, got a tiny smile out of Peter. Pepper Potts had never made any move to reenter the public eye in his home world, but he knew she’d do the same thing for Morgan had something like that with a reporter happened there, too.

“And here we are.” Tony opened a door, revealing a bedroom bigger than the entirety of his apartment back home. “The kitchen is down that hall, and then to the right; FRIDAY can remind you in the morning if you need. You are, of course, welcome to eat breakfast with us in the morning, but I’m getting the feeling you’d rather lay low until we tell everyone what’s going on. In which case, FRIDAY can tell you when the kitchen is free.”

Peter nodded, too exhausted all of a sudden to add anything else. You know that feeling, when you see a toilet and suddenly you have to go to the bathroom? The king-size bed piled with blankets was having that effect on him, and he couldn’t wait to take advantage of it while he could.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. The kitchen is also open 24/7, if you need anything, I know you’ll be starved for dinner soon enough with your metabolism. Bathroom’s included in the room through that door, don’t be too loud since Pepper doesn’t know you’re here yet . . . and yeah, I think that’s it. High time you get the chance for some rest.” He reached like he was going to put a hand on Peter’s shoulder before hesitating, eventually lowering the hand. “And you’d better get plenty, or the team will know even quicker that something is up; even our Peter doesn’t have eyebags that impressive.”

As unnerving as the attention was, a big part of Peter screamed when Tony walked away with a tossed “goodnight” over his shoulder. He’d just gotten Tony Stark back, he couldn’t let him leave –but he had to, he reminded himself. This wasn’t his Tony. This wasn’t his anything. In a few days, he would go back home with a newly stitched spidersuit, hope he hadn’t missed enough time to piss off his landlord even more, and resume things as normal. This was just a small bump on the road.

Taking a deep breath, he closed the door, turning away from it pointedly. He tossed the suit onto an armchair, collapsing onto the bed and sighing; he’d forgotten how incredible the mattresses in the tower were.

He wanted to go to sleep, but too many thoughts swirled in his head to let him. 

May was alive here. Of course she was, without a multiversal battle of almost half a dozen villains in their apartment. And she’d be here tomorrow, alive and in the flesh. Peter had to patiently bring his heartbeat down from that thought.

The Avengers were still a thing. He wondered what that meant, exactly–Sam Wilson had become Captain America in his world, and he wondered if that had stayed the same, and if Sam was now leading the Avengers. How many new members had joined, he wondered, thinking especially of Hawkeye’s new protege he’d seen around town.

The city still loved Spiderman. There were the sticklers out for him in any universe, of course, but for the most part he was still a hero here. Was still worthy of the title.

And Tony . . . he forced those thoughts far away. If he gave too much headspace to the comfortable, happy relationship Tony and this other Peter clearly had he would never get to sleep.

His stomach was still rumbling, though without the energy to get up and grab something from the kitchen. He told himself that he would get food right when he woke up if the space was free, mostly just not wanting to leave the bed now that he’d laid down.

He couldn’t say what time it was as his blinks slowly grew longer and longer, his exhaustion finally overcoming the racing of his brain.

Chapter Text

When he’d managed to move into his little apartment, there were a thousand things on his mind. May. Imagining what it would be like for his friends and Happy, now that they didn’t know who he was, now that they couldn’t be hurt by him anymore. The thought of getting a job, of making a new suit . . . it was like a physical weight, enough to force him to his knees if he thought about it for too long.

One issue that he should have thought more about was food. His metabolism made him hungry enough to eat more than double what an average human needed, but he was lucky to get enough to feed a normal person each day. He stuck to a lot of carbs, a lot of caffeine and the occasional bout of empty sugars–enough to give him energy to last as Spiderman, if nothing else. 

The good–or, more likely, bad–thing was that eventually his body learned to accept this fact. Not quite to adapt, but to resign itself to its fate. Sometimes, like now, his stomach wouldn’t even hurt very much anymore, making it easier for Peter to ignore his bodily needs in favor of focusing on more important things.

Like staring at the ceiling–he knew FRIDAY wasn’t there, but he needed something to focus on while trying to get up the courage to ask her–as he chewed his nails till they bled, going back and forth in his decision.

It will only make it hurt more.

What other chance will I have?

I did everything I could–

I’d do anything I can–

“FRIDAY?”

“ Yes, Peter?”

He swallowed, and winced at the motion; his throat was painfully tight. He couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t do this. 

“Can you–” he licked his lips, and looked back down at the bed, tightening his arms around his knees. FRIDAY didn’t even have a physical form, but looking up felt like too much like looking her in the eye, which he wasn’t able to do now.

“Show me last night. Please.”

“ What time would you like me to show you?”

“When . . . show me when May came to pick up the other Peter.” His voice broke on her name, and he ducked his face into his knees. “Please, show me when she was here.”

The hologram was already up, he knew, but FRIDAY waited to start the footage until he managed to pull his eyes up to it, pulling another hangnail off his thumb as he watched.

At first it was just the other Peter and Tony, the younger version of Peter himself standing a bit nervously in the lounge room to the side of the tower’s lobby, his eyes cast forward towards the front door. Neither of them were currently talking, but something about the way they stood and looked at each other made Peter think that they had just recently broken off the conversation.

“May!”

His counterpart surged forward, the tension sliding off his face, replaced with a smile as he hugged May Parker. Hugged a tired-looking but smiling woman, her long brown hair swept back into a low bun, not even changed out of her nursing scrubs. She pressed a quick kiss to the boy’s hair before pulling back, glancing between the two heroes in concern.

“Is everything alright? You were pretty vague over the phone, I was a bit worried.”

“Everything’s fi–”

“I’ll explain soon,” Tony cut the other Peter off, promising May with an easy smile. “We had a bit of an unexpected hiccup, but we’re going to figure it out, and you’ll know everything we do very soon.”

May was frowning at that, but eventually sighed, knowing she was unlikely to get anything more from Tony. “Fine. ” She turned back to Peter. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to stay over longer. Next time, okay, sweetie?” The other Peter nodded, with the same I’m hiding things but have no idea how to tell you look that Peter himself got.

The footage ended with May and that Peter walking out the door to the tower, her arm slung over his shoulder and holding him close. When the frame froze, it was to the boy tentatively laughing at something she’d said, a triumphant smile on May’s face for bringing joy to her nephew.

Peter wanted to tell FRIDAY to turn it off. To not make him keep staring at the image any longer, of a happy, fulfilled, alive May Parker, able to go about her day safe and unafraid because this Peter Parker had made the right decision. A decision Peter had no way to go back and make for himself now.

He didn’t ask her to turn it off, though, nor did he look away. He stared at her hair, her walk, her smile, her breath, and knew that the only reason he wasn’t crying was because she wouldn’t be there to hold him when he broke down.

“You sure you’re an exact copy of this world’s Peter?”

Peter startled, whipping around to face the door, and Tony, leaning against the frame.

“You’re the one that ran that first DNA test,” he managed to whisper. “Why are you asking me?”

Tony shrugged. “I’m just saying, I’ve never seen Peter Parker go more than three hours without eating a weird amount of calories. To go this long without eating at all . . . I’m just saying, it’s not what I expected.”

None of this was what any of them had expected, but Peter was both too emotionally wrung out already and with just enough tact not to say that.

“How long has she been gone?”

Peter flinched, not for the first time really not appreciating Tony Stark’s bluntness. He almost didn’t answer, but wasn’t sure this Tony wouldn’t just keep asking if he hedged the question.

“About a year.”

A pause.

“Who are you staying with, then?”

“I’m eighteen years old, I don’t need to be staying with anyone.”

The man raised a brow. “Your friends?”

“Are safe. That’s all that matters.”

“I very much disagree.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask what you thought about it.” Peter sniffed hard, wiping at his eyes and swiping away the footage. A stone was lodging deep in his stomach; it was the first time he got to see Tony Stark in two years, and all he could seem to do was snap at him. He stood, unable to quite look the man in the eyes. “You’re right; I am hungry. Can I go get breakfast?”

Tony stepped to the side, eyeing Peter for a moment like he was going to say something else before shaking his head and waving for Peter to follow him. 

“They were having breakfast burritos down on the common floor earlier this morning, and Steve brought up the leftovers. Steve’s eggs tend to taste like rubber reheated, so I passed on those, but the rest of the toppings are good, and I can whip up some more eggs quickly.”

Peter nodded tiredly. “Thank you.”

He helped get out the toppings from the fridge while Tony scrambled more eggs and heated up the tortillas. Tony invited him to “get out whatever ones he wanted,” as if Peter wasn’t going to pile all of it onto the tortilla and helplessly watch it fall out because he was hopeless at folding burritos. 

There were tomatoes, a couple different good cheeses, bacon, salsa mushrooms, spinach, ham, peppers, onions, and diced carrots for some reason; Peter wondered if in the next few days he’d get to find out what Avenger ate carrots on their breakfast burritos.

He wondered if whoever it was did that in his world, too.

He shook his head. Not like it made any difference. There was a decent chance they were dead in his world.

“And . . . bon appetit.” Tony placed a tortilla filled with eggs in front of him, Peter’s stomach immediately perking up.

Tony chuckled as he watched the kid pile nearly all the toppings on top–leaving the carrots in their tupperware–and proceed to wrap the burrito in a way that would surely result in half of it falling back onto the plate. Thinking ahead, he placed a fork by the plate as well.

He couldn’t stop staring at the kid. So much like his own, and yet . . . not, too. There were deep, dark bags under his eyes, and his curls matted in places. Even more, he just had an air of . . . defeat around him. The kid was only about a year older than his own Peter, but had gone through so much more. Losing his Tony, his May, and who knew what else. He could hardly imagine what it was like to come to a world like this and see them again.

What was more, this Peter still had both his hands.

He hadn’t seen his Peter use the gauntlet on the battlefield, but he had seen the result. The blinding light wash over the space, and all of Thanos’ army–including Thanos himself–dust away a moment later. The one thing that reality stone couldn’t do, though, was protect Peter from the stones’ effect.

They’d all sprinted over to the epicenter of the blast, finding Peter unconscious on the ground, burns covering his chest, arms and hands. Tony had grabbed him and brought him to the Avengers’ Tower–thanking God the whole time he hadn’t sold it as he’d originally planned years ago–through a portal that Strange had immediately conjured.

Peter’s healing factor was one of the most powerful they knew. But the damage was too severe, and they’d ended up having to amputate his right arm up to the elbow. The other, even more than a year later, still had severe burn scars on it.

It was in their research that they discovered that many spiders could, indeed, regrow lost limbs. They had no reason to assume that the spider that had bit Peter could do that, at least at first. More than a year later, a bit less than seven centimeters had regrown from Peter’s amputated arm. Someday he might have his full arm again, but they weren’t holding their breath. His prosthetic had been specially designed, going through months of trial and error before successfully gaining Peter and Tony’s approval. It was fluid and movable just like a real arm, and kept the strength it’d had before. That had been the easy part; Shuri had sent them a lot of the schematics they’d used for Bucky’s arm from Wakanda. The hard part had been giving it the same stickiness that the rest of Peter’s limbs had gotten from the spider bite. It still wasn’t perfect, Tony knew; they kept working to update it so that the stickiness wouldn’t falter, but it was good enough for Peter to patrol, and that was enough for the spider.

Despite all its advancements, it was still a prosthetic. As one of the ones who’d made it, Tony could distinguish it easily enough from the real deal, and this Peter definitely still had the two hands he’d been born with.

The only explanation he could think of as for why was that this Peter hadn’t used the stones. That coupled with the knowledge that the Tony of that world had died . . . it didn’t paint a pretty picture. Tony was glad, at least, that this Peter hadn’t gone through the pain of surgeries and amputations in his world.

“They, um, they know about me already, right?”

Tony blinked, realizing how long he’d been staring. He could only hope this was the first time Peter had tried to get his attention. “Huh?”

“The Avengers. And, um, Ms. Potts, I guess, and Morgan. You told them last night, right?”

Tony’s cheek twitched. “Mostly. The Avengers all know the basics: that a version of Peter Parker came here from another universe, and is staying here for a few days until Wong gets you back to your world. I didn’t–and still don’t–know many details about your world, so it wasn’t like I could tell them much more than that. Pep knows about the same . . . Morgan’s a different story, though. Kept trying to figure out the right way to tell her, and then before you know it she was making me kiss her stuffed cat goodnight and it was a problem for another day. By the time that day came, though, I’d rethought the idea. Since you’ll only be here for a few days, there’s no need to upset her by having her try to understand why and how there’s a second Peter here.”

Peter just nodded, getting up and rinsing off the dishes in the sink. He hesitated only slightly before opening the dishwasher and putting them inside; Tony wondered how often the kid had gotten to go to his tower before his Tony died. He hoped this Peter still got to go hang out with the Avengers there after the battle for Earth.

“Okay,” The boy whispered. “I’m ready to go meet them. You’re right, they need to know more about what’s happening if they see me the next few days.”

Tony nodded, gesturing for Peter to follow him, and wondering why Peter looked more like he was going to a death sentence than to meet the alternate versions of his teammates.

/*/*/*/*/

Peter knew that the elevators in the tower had been soundproofed in his world, and didn’t doubt that they were here, too. He also knew that it certainly wasn’t enough for him, the voices of the Avengers getting louder with every foot the elevator climbed. 

He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, wishing he had the cocky, I-can-do-anything attitude of that fourteen year old that stole Captain America’s shield in Germany. Now he was about to meet a group of Avengers that presumably liked him–liked this Peter at least–and he felt like his chest was playing a game of keep-away with his breath.

Tony frowned when he saw the sudden shortness of Peter’s breath, probably because he couldn’t hear Steve Freaking Rogers’ voice–not sounding like an old man?--through the elevator wondering about what this new Peter would be like.

Peter didn’t want them to know. He’d rather they keep whatever image of him they had in their heads.

“FRI, stop the ascent for a sec.” The man turned to Peter, frowning. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, kiddo?”

“I’m ready.” Because if he wasn’t now, he knew he never would be. “I’m ready to go in, it’s okay. Are they–are they all there?”

Tony sighed–likely knowing Peter was lying–before nodding. “They all knew you were probably going to come down to meet them this morning, so they should all still be on the common floor.”

“And who . . . who is all ?”

He didn’t look over to see the look of what on earth is wrong with your world that you have to ask that that was surely gracing his old mentor’s face again.

“A lot, actually. Steve, Natasha, Clint and his new protogee Kate, Bruce, me of course, Thor, and I think Thor’s little brother Loki unfortunately counts by now; there’s Sam, Barnes, Wanda and Vision, Spiderman; Scott’s on the roster but he prefers to stay home with his family for the most part, and the same with Captain Marvel and her gallivanting around space. There’s this upstart in Jersey City we’ve been keeping an eye on for the future if they need us, but you don’t need to worry about her. Bruce’s cousin hasn’t gotten the official invitation yet, and I don’t think she wants it anyways, and if I get one more prank call from Deadpool I’m going to challenge that healing ability of his.”

He looked over sheepishly, wincing. “Sorry, kid, didn’t mean to go on that for so long. Can I ask a question, though, just based off of the look you’re giving me?”

Peter shrugged, making a reasonable effort to smooth out his features.

“How many names in that list were you not expecting me to say?”

There wasn’t an easy way to answer that. Some of them had been unexpected because they were dead in Peter’s home world, and some because he’d never heard of them. Bruce had a cousin that might qualify for the Avengers? He wondered if it was the same in his world; for someone whose part-time job involved selling photos to a news site, he was woefully bad at keeping up with it himself. The only news he really needed to concern himself with, after all, was if a new big bad was in town that he needed to help out with, and he could usually follow the sounds of screams for that.

Not sure what to say that won’t result in Tony looking at him pityingly again, he just shrugged again, wincing a bit when he heard the man sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted before the man could open his mouth to tell FRIDAY to start the elevator again. “I don’t mean to be so difficult about this. I really do appreciate you helping me, I do, I just . . . I guess I’ve barely stopped to talk about any of this since it happened.” He was slightly surprised to find that, as far as he could remember, the last major talk he had about losing so many of the Avengers–about losing Tony –was when Happy had picked him up in the Netherlands.

“It’s okay, kid. It would be sort of pot-meets-kettle of me to lecture you on practicing healthy emotional communication, after all. Are you still sure about this, though? We can always wait until tomorrow to meet them.”

Peter shook his head, even as half a dozen reactions erupted inside him. Relief that he could say yes and go back to his room, exhaustion at having to make the decision at all, dread that they’d blame him for not wielding the stones in his world as their Peter had, curiosity to truly see what the Avengers were like together; he’d never really gotten to see them just hanging out, like a family. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to participate, what other opportunity would he have to see this?

It would hurt to lose in a few days, but he’d had practice in loss before.

“I can do it, really. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“If you say so, Pete. FRI, bring us up please.”

The AI complied immediately, the elevator finishing its climb to the common floor. Peter kept his breathing measured and calm as the doors opened with a soft ding, revealing the people he hadn’t spoken to in nearly two years. Whatever he had expected as his first moments with the Avengers in so long, it wasn’t what he got.

“Come on, Buck, just try the buttercream. I promise I didn’t put anything weird in it this time, honest.”

“I swear, Steve, if I find durian in this frosting again–”

“You won’t!”

Tony looked over and met Peter’s curious, confused gaze, a finger to his lips. He glanced over at the other Avengers sprawled around the living room, who easily got the message to stay quiet for a few more moments so the newcomers could hear the end of the supersoldiers’ baking incident.

Peter never thought he’d see anything like it; a still-young Steve Rogers with an apron over a t-shirt and sweats, holding a spoon of frosting out to Bucky Barnes, who rolled his eyes before begrudgingly taking the spoon. The ex-Winter Soldier made a face upon tasting it.

“Geez, Steve, what was in that?”

“It’s lavender flavored! That’s a very normal flavor for icing.”

“I’m canceling the Food Network subscription.”

Steve spluttered. “You-you can’t do that! Tony pays for that anyways. FRI, back me up, make Tony tell this century old man with the taste buds of a ten year old that he can’t just–” he’d turned halfway through the rant, blushing as he registered Tony and Peter there. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry, Capsicle, I won’t let the cyborg take away your weird food inspirations.”

The supersoldier gave them a sheepish smile, holding a flour-dusted hand out for Peter to shake. “Sorry about that. It’s good to meet you, Peter.” He faltered for a moment when Peter put his hand in his, before shaking his head and smiling again. “I just finished making a batch of cupcakes; don’t worry, I’ll be sure to leave some unfrosted in case you’re like Bucky and don’t like lavender.”

Peter sniffed at the air tentatively; he’d learned pretty quickly after getting his powers that strong scents were a big no-no, and one of the things at the top of that list were essential oils or incense, like sage or lavender, which was known to repel spiders. It didn’t seem to bother him too much in the form of the icing, though, which he was grateful for. Despite Bucky’s reaction, he was curious to find out how it really tasted.

“It’s, um, nice to meet you, too, Mr. Rogers.”

“Please, Peter, just Steve is fine. You don’t still call your own Steve ‘Mr. Rogers,’ do you?”

“ . . . well, no, but–”

“And thank goodness for that,” Clint Barton cut in, pausing the game to come join them and grab a cupcake; from the couch, a young woman only a few years older than Peter protested that she’d finally been getting in the zone , moving instead to pet a large dog next to her. “It was a long, awkward several months for all of us before all the misters and missus and sirs and ma’ams dropped.”

“ . . . right.” Peter wasn’t sure what else to say to that. Except for Dr. Strange, he’d never called a living Avenger by their first name, not that he’d had much opportunity to. The only time he’d called Mr. Stark Tony out loud was when the man was dying in front of him. It would certainly be strange to try and do it for them while he was here, but he didn’t want to go back on his word now.

(a quick glance at the Black Widow watching him above her book in a nearby armchair was enough to let him know that his word wasn’t fully believed anyways, but he was going to take what he could get)

He stared, admittedly, when Bruce Banner came over. He knew full well about the man’s transformation during the Blip–the thought was still a bit weird, but Peter was happy for the scientist, he knew how much Bruce suffered trying to keep the Hulk under control–but it was still odd to see it in person. His hand dwarfed Peter’s when he offered it to shake, but was still gentle.

“H-hi.” He left it at that for now; these people expected Peter Parker to call them by their first names, but Peter truly didn’t know how to look at one of the scientists he respected most in the world and not call him Doctor.

“Hey, kid.” The Hulk–or Bruce, Peter should probably just be calling him Bruce in his head–smiled quizzically. “By your surprise, I can only guess that I didn’t undergo the, uh, fusion in your world?”

“No, I–um–” Peter shook his head. “You did, I mean, it’s just . . . been a while. Since I’ve seen you, I mean.”

“I see.” Dr. Banner let it drop for now, but Peter could tell the man had many more questions to ask. 

Get in line, he couldn’t help but think. He had enough of his own questions to last for days, if he got up the courage to ask them.

Natasha leaned in close when she shook his hand, Peter’s breath catching as one of the deadliest women in the world was mere inches from him.

“ How badly are you itching to call me Ms. Romanoff?”

Peter blushed. “Um. A lot more now, if I’m being honest.” It took all his control not to add a ma’am to the words. The assassin showed mercy, though, only giving him a small smile before moving to the side for one of Steve’s cupcakes.

One by one, they came over and introduced themselves. Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Thor–Loki didn’t look up from the book he was reading on the armchair by the window–Kate Bishop, Clint’s new partner; Wanda and Vision came over too, and it took nearly all of Peter’s willpower not to flinch from her handshake. News about the Hex being her fault had made the rounds long ago, and while Peter didn’t necessarily think Wanda was evil, he did have a healthy amount of fear when it came to her powers. Tony said that Rhodey was on a mission right now, but should be back by tomorrow.

 It was surreal; whenever Peter had gone over to the Avengers’ Tower before the battle on Titan, almost none of the Avengers had been there; unlike here, Rhodey had been the only one Peter might spot in passing. Now, here they all were, laughing and ribbing each other and talking. Like a team.

Like a family.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“So, an alternate universe, huh?” Peter turned to see Kate Bishop beside him, a ring of purple frosting staining her upper lip. “What’s it like? Is it super different, or is it just, like, that Clint’s allergic to dogs?”

Peter could have laughed or cried at the implications of that question. Instead, he merely shrugged. “There are a few significant differences. Overall, though, I don’t know enough about this world to say how different it is.”

“So, how are we going to do this, then?” Clint asked. “Are we just gonna ‘20 Questions’ it to get the main stuff out of the way, or we can make a PowerPoint night out of it, or . . . ?”

Peter sort of thought that presenting a PowerPoint on why his lack of action was the biggest difference he knew of between their worlds was the worst thing you could ask of him right then. Even if it came with the bonus of finding out more details about this world, he wasn’t sure it would be worth it.

“How about this,” Tony suggested, taking pity on Peter. It was no riddle why–the only concrete things Peter had confirmed about his world was that his Tony and May were dead, and that he was living on his own. The man had probably inferred a lot more, but Peter also guessed that none of it was all that fun to share in a group setting. “We can pick two things to ask Peter if they’re the same in his world, and he can choose if he answers them. No need to interrogate our guest during the meet and greet.”

There was a bit of grumbling, but Peter could tell it was good-natured. There were a few hushed whispers as a couple different groups tried to figure out what they were going to ask, but Peter was too busy mentally panicking to listen into the conversations. 

The odds of them asking “ did you still use the infinity stones in your world? ” were–probably–pretty low. 

Or, maybe it wasn’t. Peter had noticed the seams of this Peter’s prosthetic hand–he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious to how that worked with being Spiderman–and noted the faint burn scars on his remaining one. A team full of spies and heroes was sure to notice that Peter himself didn’t have a prosthetic, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. Hopefully they would ask about something–anything–else.

The first question was easy enough. 

“Did I still retire from Captain America in your world?” Steve asked. “Did I still pass it down to Sam?”

Peter nodded, leaving it at that. It was true; no reason to get into any of the time-travel and Old Steve Rogers stuff now.

The supersoldier smiled at his friend at the answer, clapping Sam on the shoulder like its occurrence in more than one timeline was proof that it was how it should be. And maybe it was, Peter thought; Sam had been doing a good job as Captain America so far, as far as he knew.

“What year is it in your world?” Vision asked.

“I assume part of the question is if the Blip happened for us, too, which–yes, it did. I looked up a few basics in a library when I first got here, so I know the date here. In my world it’s October 2025, about a year ahead of here.”

He could tell the answer only inspired more questions, but luckily Tony was clapping his hands before anyone could ask them.

“Alright, and that makes two. So, unless Peter has any burning questions about this world, I suggest we get a new game queued up.”

Peter–who did not in fact have any burning questions he needed the answer to right now–was happy to follow Tony to the living area, tentatively plopping into an armchair at the side. Though some of them were still whispering curiously, the other Avengers did follow, resuming their earlier positions and grabbing more remote controls. 

“How about it, Pete?” Clint asked, offering him a remote. “Wanna join in?”

Peter shook his head. “Th-thank you, but I think I’ll just watch this one. Maybe next round.”

It wasn’t like he was the only one not playing; Dr. Banner and Loki had retreated to a separate sitting area by the windows with their books, the god grumbling about the noise. Rather than start another another activity, though, Peter stayed right where he was. 

Instead of the game, he watched the players. Watched Bucky toss popcorn at Sam’s head when the captain teased him about losing. Watched Tony’s eyebrows furrow in concentration like they would in the lab. Watched Clint and Kate trying to give advice together as the action happened, Clint remaining calm as Kate bounced on the couch cushions. Watched Nat crush them all with ease, eyes narrowed slightly. Watched Wanda gently tease Vision that, for all his intelligence, his precision with the controls was woefully underwhelming.

They really were good with each other. Peter wondered when it happened; the main split from his world that he knew of was this world’s Peter using the stones, but was this camaraderie present before the Blip? Was there a Civil War here, too, or ongoing debates over the Sokovian Accords? Had all this team-building really happened within the last year or so?

His eyes kept wandering back to Natasha, to Vision, to Loki–unlike everyone that dusted away, he knew enough about the fights with Thanos to know that these people had a ctually died. They hadn’t come back in his own world, so what had been different here? Maybe he’d get to ask this world’s Peter about what had happened with the stones–or maybe it’d just be one of the many things that he’d leave this world not knowing.

Though he was content to sit and watch, he did agree to play when Steve offered on the next game; how they modified a Mario Kart game to accommodate this many people, he wasn’t sure, but it was certainly interesting. He kept up his people-watching as much as possible, relying on his spidersense to warn him of incoming banana peels or drop-offs.

Nat, predictably, won, Clint and Bucky not far behind in points. She stood, stretching as she tossed the remote onto the couch. 

“I need to stretch my legs. Who’s up for a pre-lunch workout?”

The supersoldiers, Clint, Kate, Thor and Sam immediately agreed, and Nat turned to Peter, a clear question in her eyes.

Peter’s immediate instinct was to say no, but . . . why shouldn’t he go with them? The opportunity to learn from them, even just for one session, wasn’t one he should pass up. Only a bit hesitant, he set down the controller, nodding and following them upstairs. He glanced back at Tony as he left, wondering if the man would join them, but Tony just gave an encouraging smile and a quick “ have fun, I’ll see you for lunch. ”

He turned back around quickly.

/*/*/*/*/

“Tell us about your stretching routine, Peter.”

Having time to s tretch ? In this economy?

Peter winced, not quite able to look at Natasha as she started her own advanced stretches on the mat, the others wrapping their knuckles and setting up the equipment for their own routines. 

“Well, I sort of . . . don’t have one?”

Steve clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. “Don’t worry about it, kid, I didn’t really have one for the longest time, either. It gets easy to skip when you’re enhanced. I’m just surprised your Natasha let you get away with that.”

Peter grunted noncommittedly in lieu of an answer. No need to break the news that his world’s Natasha was still dead.

Besides, by the long look she gave him when he sat down to copy her stretches, he was sure she could already guess the truth.

He followed her through almost half an hour of stretching, from butterflies to straddles to splits. She would give him small adjustments throughout, only once needing to actually physically correct his position.

Once they were finished stretching, Steve called them over to the sparring rings, inviting Peter in to go against him. His forehead was covered in sweat that he mopped off with a cloth, looking sufficiently warmed up himself. 

Peter glanced at the rest of the group; Clint had stepped to the side, pulling Kate over to work on a new archery trick, Nat excusing herself to challenge Bucky and Sam to a two-on-one fight. Looking to the other side of the room to the weight section saw Thor lifting–Peter squinted a bit–20,000 pound weights; Peter wasn’t going to waste time thinking about the kind of engineering Tony would have needed to enact to make a weight that dense.

Steve took a quick swig of water. “Have you worked with me recently in your world?”

“Well–not recently, no, but–”

“No problem.” He set down the water, smiling at Peter like his counterpart had been on a vacation recently, and not living it up in some SHIELD nursing home like Peter had figured. “We’ll start a bit slow, in case you’re rusty on my techniques. Remember to let me know if you need to tap out at any point.”

Peter had no intention of tapping out in his second fight against Steve Rogers, and in the end there was no need to. The ex-Captain America was still a formidable opponent, make no mistake, but Peter had grown a lot since stealing the man’s shield in a German airport. Even slightly malnourished and going mostly off of fumes, the might and imagination of so many 1940s scientists was no match for the intensity of one genetically altered spider’s strength and senses.

He was able to dodge nearly all the strikes easily enough, moving away a split second before Steve’s hand started swinging. His movements were uncoordinated, he knew, none of the fluid grace in his fighting like Black Widow was known for, or even Captain America could have. Still, the dance of moves and punches and flips continued, clearly longer than Steve had been expecting.

After three rounds, Steve noted the time, suggesting that they cool down before going back down and helping get the last of lunch ready. He promised that they could come back up later.

“You’re strong, and you know it,” the supersoldier said as they stretched out their sweaty muscles. “However, has anyone ever told you you rely a lot on your–what is it you call it? That sixth sense of yours?”

“I’ve been calling it my spidersense.”

“Right. While you have a lot of raw strength, it’s not honed that much, and I think your reliance on your spidersense is part of it.”

I’m sure it is, Peter thought only slightly bitterly. He did his best to keep any of his thoughts showing on his face. The lack of food and the fact that I ran on four hours of sleep more often than not may have factored in there too, but who really knows?

“The sense has helped me a lot,” is all he says in the end.

“Oh, I’ve no doubt. It’s a very impressive ability. I just don’t think it would hurt to schedule a few more sessions with us back at home.” The soldier smiled as he stood. “You’ve got the makings of a great hero, Peter. I wish we could see more of it.”

There were too many possible answers to all of that, most of them incriminating to everything he didn’t want these Avengers to know. So he just shrugged, doing his best to smile back as he stood and excused himself to the showers. 

/*/*/*/*/

Natasha waited until she could hear the water going strong, the noise probably drowning out most of Peter’s hearing.

She turned to Steve next to her, who was wiping down the sparring ring. 

“That boy hasn’t trained with one of us in his life.”

And Steve, with his patented look of concern-bordering-on-disappointment, sighed. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

/*/*/*/*/

Like during the game, Peter was quiet throughout lunch, content to watch this group laugh together and create some of the worst table-top chaos he’d ever seen; he really thought trying to flick mashed potatoes onto the ceiling and get them to stick was just something from the movies, and yet here he was.

“I knew I’d regret giving you access to spoons for this meal again,” Tony sighed, glaring at Clint. “I swear, Morgan didn’t make this much of a mess at the table when she was two.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll clean it up. You’re going to make me lose count, I’m going for a new personal best.” The archer went back to counting out the seconds, cursing a few moments later when a glob of potatoes landed on Wanda’s plate with a splat. She looked momentarily startled before picking up the offending potatoes with her mind, a red haze surrounding them as they disappeared into the trash.

Peter wondered about the Clint Barton in his world. The last he’d seen him, the man hadn’t been nearly this bubbly, of course; the reunion with his family couldn’t erase the sting of losing Tony, not to mention the death of his oldest and closest friend. Here, though, he still had those friends. While this Peter got hurt very badly in the battle, it didn’t seem that this Clint–that any of them–had truly had to lose anything permanently.

Peter shook the thought away, shoving another meatball into his mouth.

He didn’t have to think about it anymore until a few hours later, when Tony came over, interrupting the three-person chess game between Peter, Bruce and Vision. Though he was a bit nervous for whatever Tony had to say, Peter appreciated the timing; the game was starting to get intense, and Peter was running out of strategies to keep his last bishop safe.

Tony said that he was going to pick up Morgan from kindergarten, and take her straight up to their personal floor for the rest of the day. He suggested that Peter stay on the Avengers’ floor until Morgan went to bed at 8:30, and Peter nodded his agreement. 

He lost a bit of his focus after that, indeed losing his bishop to Vision’s next move, as he tried not to think too much about Morgan in this world. For some reason, thoughts of the little girl made his chest tighten. 

It was a bit disheartening, knowing he wouldn’t see Tony the rest of the evening. Surrounded by the other Avengers, though, he wasn’t about to request that FRIDAY let Peter see him on the cameras as he brought Morgan back home. Instead, Peter distracted himself by accepting Steve’s invitation to help make dinner, arm wrestled with Bucky–they each won a round–and smiled as he listened to the team bicker about the night’s movie options; apparently Thor had an odd love for romcoms, but Clint had used his monthly veto to turn them all down.

Peter politely declined when Sam offered to have him choose the movie; he was enjoying watching the Avengers be the team he never got to see them be in his own world, he didn’t want to make any of it about himself.

About ten till nine–nearly half an hour since they’d started the movie debate–they managed to agree on the original Jumanji, just in time for Tony and Pepper to exit the elevator and join them in the living room. Pepper, presumably not wanting to interrupt the movie, offered Peter a welcoming smile as she sat down next to Tony, which Peter returned.

It was filled with Tony and Thor’s commentary; Clint, Kate and Nat engaging in a competition for who could catch more popcorn in their mouths; Loki’s complaining, even though he never actually left the movie. 

He felt his eyes start to droop not long before the quicksand scene, a faint smile on his face.

Chapter Text

“Now, there’s the black hole I know.”

Peter blushed around his ninth pancake, though Tony’s smile told him it was all good-natured teasing. The mechanic had pulled Peter back down to the Avengers floor after Happy took Morgan to school, where Steve had immediately loaded his plate with the cinnamon-chocolate chip pancakes and bacon.

“Don’t listen to him, Peter.” Steve winked at him. “He just doesn’t get it. Us in the Enhanced Metabolism Club gotta stick together, right?”

Peter smiled around his pancakes, glad his mouth was full so that he didn’t have to try to come up with an answer.

Clint’s difference in manner was easy to guess at, as Peter had the day before. Steve, though . . . that was a bit harder. Of course Natasha’s death had hurt him in Peter’s native world, but it had always felt like more than that. It felt like there had to be some other reason for why Steve was still here and young–even if he had still chosen to pass on the Captain America mantle. 

The Avengers weren’t his focus today, though; he didn’t have time for them to be. With so little time left in this world, there was something Peter just had to do.

“Mr. Stark?” He remembered too late his little fib that he’d moved on from addressing the Avengers so formally, but Tony thankfully didn’t mention it. “Am I allowed to leave the tower?” When the man gave him a questioning look, he went on. “I just–I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to go out; my suit still has a big hole in it I haven’t been able to fix, and on the off-chance that the other Peter and I run into each other–well, that wouldn’t be fun to try and explain to someone.”

Tony frowned. “Is there a reason you need to go outside? Wait, that makes me sound like a tyrant. I mean–of course you’re allowed, like, in the yard or the rooftop or something. But why did you want to go out in the city?”

Peter shrugged, unsure of how to answer. An answer with any bit of truth in it would reveal just how badly Peter’s actions–and lack thereof–had screwed up his world, his Avengers, his Tony. He’d like to avoid the shocked and pitying looks for the duration of his stay here, if possible.

“There’s just . . . some things I want to see. To compare to my world. Stuff I can’t just see on the internet.”

Sam frowned as he came over to get the juice from the fridge. “I can sympathize with curiosity, of course, but are we sure that’s safe? Or smart?”

“I’d be careful. I know how to stay out of the way, make sure people don’t see me.”

Steve was frowning now, too, though. “I’m not sure, Pete. Sam has a point; all it would take is one person recognizing you when they just saw you down the street in another outfit, not to mention that Tony said Wong wasn’t totally certain it was safe for you and our Peter to be around each other. If you two end up running into each other, it could end in disaster.”

“I have no intention of running into this world’s Peter.” Again. “It’s nine in the morning on a Thursday; he’s in school, so no chance of him catching me off-guard. It’ll be fine.”

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t go,” Tony surprised him by saying. “Things are similar enough to your world that you still know your way around, right?” Peter nodded. “So, no chance of you pulling a Kevin McCallister and getting lost in New York. You’ll have a disguise, a curfew, and you have to promise not to speak more than a few words to anyone  that could endanger our worlds. Which, for safety reasons, we’re going to assume is everyone.”

“What kind of disguise were you thinking?” If Tony brought out the cap and sunglasses, Peter wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep the judgment off his face.

“I’m sure our Peter wouldn’t mind you borrowing his spare Spiderman suit in the lab for the day. And if you were planning on going somewhere just as a civilian, well–” the man grinned, “I’ve got something that can help with that, too.”

Intrigued, Peter swallowed his last bite of pancake, shooting Steve a quick “thank you” before following Tony back down to the man’s lab. 

“I took these a few months ago from a meeting with SHIELD with the excuse of studying and improving them–Fury was going through about a half dozen crises at the moment with some international terrorist group and something else in space, I wasn’t paying attention; had he been able to have the space to notice, I’m sure he would have made me put them back, but as it was the technician present didn’t need much persuading.”

Peter watched curiously as the man picked up a small, clear looking mask, just large enough to cover a face. It didn’t seem designed to go all the way around the head at all, and he wondered how it stayed adhered to the face. He forced himself to let the thoughts go as Tony started talking again.

“Anyways, these bad boys can be programmed to make you look like anyone in the world–or, like someone that doesn’t exist, either. They’re good enough to fool facial scanners, but not DNA tests, of course. I’ve been fiddling around with them a bit, and got FRIDAY hooked up to their software. You can program one to your liking and go wherever you want; I even modified one enough to cover short hair, so you can change that up, too.”

“How does it adhere to your face?”

“It has to be programmed to show something first; let’s get that done, and then I’ll show you how to put it on.”

As eager as Peter was to go, he’ll admit that he got a bit carried away in the programming. It was just so fun! He had never seen software like this before, and FRIDAY was so intuitive to his designs. Finally he settled on his look for the day: a newly designed face, not associated with anyone in the world–the point of the mask was to not confuse people–that was made to look a few years older than himself, with darker, straight brown hair and blue eyes. He had a mole by his lip and a small scar under his left eye.

“How do I look?” He turned to Tony after the man had shown him how to put it on.

“Not like Peter Parker, so I’d say you’re good to go.”

Peter grinned, the feeling not prohibited at all by the mask, and marveled at the ingenuity of the design, that it could meld to his face so seamlessly. He’d love to study and poke around at it more at–

at home, he forced himself to finish the thought. Who knows, maybe I’ll break into SHIELD someday and grab one for myself, steal enough parts to play around with it.

The thought wasn’t as comforting as it had originally started.

“Thanks for the help. Do you have, like, a spare metrocard I could use, or . . . ?”

Tony sighed, fishing around in a nearby drawer. “You’d think I’d say ‘no,’ but you’d be surprised at some of the things that I keep down here since Peter started coming by regularly. An extra, up-to-date bus pass is one of the more normal things. Here you go.”

“Thanks. So, I guess I’ll see you later? I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but I’ll definitely be back by tonight, and–”

“Nuh-uh, not so fast.” Before Peter could blink, a fifty dollar bill was being pushed into his hand. “I assume you’ll be out during lunch time, so that is to make sure that you actually eat. Get some snacks or whatever with the change, or save it to buy dinner, but I don’t want it back. I do expect you back at this tower by eight PM, though–wait, there goes the tyrant tone again. Just please be mindful of the time, and try to be back here by then, okay? Just remember to go to the Avengers floor before then, and I’ll let you know when Morgan’s in bed.”

Peter nodded, tucking the bill into a pocket. “Thanks, again. It’s really nice of you to do all of this.”

“Yeah, well, I am a nice guy. Now, go do whatever it is you were wanting to do. I have some work I need to at least pretend to work on so that I have something to report back to Pepper later.”

/*/*/*/*/

When he’d first gotten his powers, Peter’d done everything possible to get them under control as soon as possible. His strength and stickiness had been the top priority–those getting out of hand meant that others would find out about his mutation, and he had never been willing to risk that.

Getting his enhanced senses and metabolism under control, though, had been more for his benefit than keeping the mutation a secret. Besides the pain of sensory overloads, the young teen had squirmed in guilt at the idea of listening to other people’s conversations, especially those at school. He’d worked hard to control that quickly, learning to tune out everything that didn’t pertain to him. 

Standing on the subway to Queens, though, was one of the few times he let himself break the rule. 

With no phone to help distract him, he passed the time mostly by using his hearing in a totally-not-invasive way, listening in to the people around him. The simple conversations of people with normal problems, like if the husband or wife was taking their son to baseball practice after school, or if their avocados would still be good by that afternoon to make guacamole for taco night.

Forty-five minutes later, he hopped off into the city, going up the stairs and . . . staring. Standing, and staring, not caring for the people pushing past him with irritated grumbles.

It wasn’t his first time in this city, but he still couldn’t quite grasp–it was the s ame. It was Queens, loud and proud and bright and sharp and so close to home Peter could scream. The only major differences were that the Statue of Liberty would be fully intact and there wasn’t graffiti of him around the city cursing his name, as Spiderman or as Peter Parker.

(the ones about Peter Parker were just looked at in confusion by the artists now. You couldn’t tell someone to go eff himself if you couldn’t remember they were real)

Taking a deep breath, Peter navigated the crowds to an empty, shadowed alley along a side street, keeping an ear out and listening for his spider-sense as he took out this world’s Peter’s spare Spiderman suit from his backpack, changing as fast as he could.

It was . . . weird. The Peter here still used the suit he’d gotten from Tony before the fight in Germany for patrol. Since things were so similar between their worlds, Peter could only assume that this world’s Peter had also gotten the Iron Spider suit when Thanos’ soldiers came to Earth, but probably saved it for potential world-ending disasters instead of Friendly-Neighborhood Spidermanning.

It was no problem to adjust to a suit he hadn’t worn for a couple years, at first. The main thing he cared about was that the webshooter cartridges were full, after all.

Then he heard her voice.

“ Hello, Peter.”

He froze, stuttering on his breath. 

He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight and painful.

“Karen?”

“Is something wrong, Peter? There is no holiday today to indicate that you shouldn’t be in school right now. Should I contact Tony?”

“No–no, you don’t have to contact Tony. Just . . . sorry, just–give me a moment?”

“Of course, Peter.”

Karen. How could he have not realized? Of course this Peter still had Karen in his suit, of course she still knew who Peter Parker was.

He had to stop himself from letting out a sob, leaning against the wall and hunching over as if in physical pain. 

It’d been so long since he’d heard her voice.

“ Are you sure you’re alright, Peter? I don’t detect any physical injuries, but I must ask why you’re not in school right now.”

“I’m–I’m fine,” he managed hoarsely, clearing his throat. “I’m okay, I promise. I’m not hurt. Um, Karen, you can communicate with FRIDAY, right?”

“Of course.”

“Right, o-of course. Just–she can tell you why I’m not in school. She can explain everything, probably a lot faster and more succinctly than I could hope to right now.”

A few moments passed in silence, which Peter gratefully used to get himself under control, taking a few deep breaths and crawling up the wall to the rooftop.

“ I have convened with FRIDAY on the situation. Welcome, Alternate Peter. ”

“Um, you can just call me Peter.”

“As you say. Now, would you like me to display Spiderman’s primary route through the city, or take a new one?”

Peter smiled. “I think I’ll go a new way today, Karen.” After all, Spiderman–like in his own world for most of his vigilante career–would be known for patrolling in the afternoons, evenings and weekends. If he was changing up the time Spiderman was seen, he might as well change the route too.

He got a running start, whooping with adrenaline as he leapt off the building and shot his first web in this new world.

/*/*/*/*/

His heart was beating so fast because he’d just patrolled, on and off, for several hours. Because he hadn’t swung for a few days. Because he was still getting over the adrenaline of being in this new place where people were so trusting of him, where they were almost always happy to see him swing by.

No other reasons.

His hands were shaking slightly from the work of swinging, gripping and climbing throughout the day, and his temples were sweating from being stuck under the holomask.

Seriously, those were the only reasons.

Peter repeated that to himself over and over again as he opened the door to the cafe, stepping inside and walking determinedly to the counter.

He’d been waiting outside for nearly twenty minutes now, waiting for MJ’s coworker to go on break and for her to take over the counter. This world’s Peter and Ned were sitting at the counter still, laughing in the break between customers.

MJ turned as Peter got to the counter, the smallest of smiles on her face.

“What can I get you?”

Peter swallowed, his mouth opening with no sound coming out. She was there. She was here, physically and really in front of him. Her curly hair sat in a low bun at the base of her neck, a few unruly strands resting just beside her right eye. 

“Sir?”

Her eyes flicked back over to where Ned and the other Peter sat, and Peter mentally shook himself, feeling bad for keeping her away from her friends. (her . . . boyfriend? No, Peter! If there’s one thing you shouldn’t be thinking about– )

“Um, sorry. Can–can I get a medium coffee and a chocolate chip muffin, please?”

She nodded, punching in the order and asking if he was paying cash or credit. Peter didn’t even try to answer out loud this time, just handing her one of the twenties from the change from lunch earlier. Since there were no other customers waiting behind him, he stayed at the counter while she got his coffee, his eyes and ears drifting over to Ned and his counterpart, who were still talking quietly.

“--say if she was coming?” Ned took a drink of his coffee, wincing and adding one more sugar packet.

The other Peter shook his head, looking confused for a moment. “Oh, right, you were in a conference during lunch. No, she got asked to come in for a live interview for the internship; she promised to tell us all about it tomorrow, though.”

Ned’s eyes brightened. “Really? That’s awesome! I knew she’d get it, that girl worries too much.”

“Here you go. One coffee and a chocolate chip muffin.”

Peter startled back into himself, managing to not stare too much through his quiet “thank you” as he took the purchases over to a carefully planned booth: not too far in the back that he’d look like a creep, but far enough back that he’d be easily forgettable. 

MJ had turned back to her friends. “So, how are your MIT applications coming along?”

Ned immediately started stressing out loud. “Well for one–you guys never told me that I should be doing more extracurriculars!”

Peter looked like he was holding in a laugh, his smile still coming bright and easy. “What? Ned, you do plenty of extracurriculars.”

“I don’t stack up to so many other past applicants! I never really had a real job through high school–”

“People have paid you to fix their phone glitches since sophomore year.”

“--I was never involved with student government–”

“The student body government is a sham, don’t get me started on–”

“There’s no way I’m going to get in,” he finished with a moan.

MJ and Peter exchanged a look, shaking their heads. 

“I just got this job this year,” MJ reminded him. “And I’m not part of that many extracurriculars, either. You’ll be fine and you know it.”

“And when you do get in, we’re going to say I told you so like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Whatever,” Ned mumbled, but even from halfway across the cafe Peter could see the slight blush to his cheeks. “But onto more interesting things–did you guys see the big news all over social media?”

Both Peter and MJ shook their heads. Ned, looking shocked, pulled out his phone. 

After a moment, MJ shrugged. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a video of Spiderman, I thought you’d gotten over your hero worship of that guy.”

He watched the other Peter blush, and frowned into his coffee. Did MJ not know Spiderman’s identity in this world? Sure, the circumstances surrounding how she’d found out in Peter’s world hadn’t happened here, but still. He was surprised that she hadn’t figured it out on her own and told them she knew by now.

“I don’t hero worship him anymore! This was weird, though. These videos were taken today. Like, while we were in school.”

“So?”

“ So people have usually theorized that Spiderman is a college student or something because he never patrols during school hours. He almost always sticks to weekends or afternoons.”

“Or, maybe he works during the day and today he had the day off.”

Ned grumbled, but put the phone away, accepting that MJ wasn’t going to conspiracy theorize with him. “Fine. But Peter, you’ll talk about it with me later, won’t you?”

The other Peter rolled his eyes, but nodded. 

“You’re both such nerds.”

If he wasn’t so desperate for even an indirect interaction with the people he used to be closest with, Peter would feel worse about how stalkerish this was. Though the other Peter has glanced over at him a few times, he doesn’t seem to have caught on to the fact that Peter is essentially spying on them, and Ned and MJ haven’t questioned his presence. 

It was a Thursday. In his own world, Ned had to be home by five thirty. Hoping that it was similar in this world, Peter stood about ten minutes before Ned usually would have left, discreetly leaving through the door.  

He stood to the side, exactly nine minutes passing before Ned exited as well, waving behind him to his friends.

Peter watched him walk over to the bus stop, a deep and helpless ache in his chest. Would this be the last time Peter ever saw his best friend in person? Was MJ snorting at one of Peter’s dumb jokes the last time he’d ever see her smile?

He turned, shaking his head as he walked away. Either way, he couldn’t stay here any longer. He still had one last stop to make before he could head back to the tower, after all.

/*/*/*/*/

Peter sighed. And he’d thought listening in at the cafe was stalkerish. 

Figuring out May’s work schedule here was nothing a little hacking in the library after his lunch break couldn’t accomplish. May worked seven to four at FEAST on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and a quick hike up the fire escape of the Parkers’ apartment building confirmed that she was indeed home–the sound of her humming as the air smelled slightly of smoke made Peter’s heart pang from where he stood to the side of the window outside this Peter’s bedroom.

He’d come up in his civilian clothes, taking a risk in taking off the SHIELD mask as well. If May were to come out and stand at the right angle to see him, he’d much rather she see an almost identical version of her nephew than a total stranger. 

For better or worse, though, it wasn’t May that found him first.

“So, how was patrol?”

His counterpart, in his own spidersuit, landed softly next to Peter on the fire escape, looking down at him with an odd mix of expressions.

Peter shrugged, not looking up. “Not bad.”

Giving a little huff, the other Peter sat down beside him. “This is so weird.”

This time Peter did look over, considering. He wondered how this Peter would react to hearing about Peters 2 and 3. He didn’t feel up to the story, though, of admitting how all his mistakes had led up to the two older Spidermen coming into his world. 

“Pretty weird for me too,” he settled on.

An awkward settled, and again Peter found himself thinking about the other two Spidermen he’d met. He couldn’t see this kind of silence happening between the three of them, what with Peter 3s nervous chatter and Peter 2s confident reassurances.

He could feel the other Peter’s eyes on him still, and looked back over. “What?”

“It was you at the cafe earlier, wasn’t it?”

Peter nodded. “Recognized the outfit?”

His double nodded back. “Why?”

He didn’t expect himself to answer the question at all. But why shouldn’t he say at least a basic version of the truth? It wasn’t like he’d be around long to continue baring his soul to the other.

“It’s just . . . been a while, since I’ve seen my Ned and MJ.”

The other Peter paled. “Are they . . . you mentioned your Tony was–are they–”

“No, no,” Peter hurried to clarify. “They’re alive. Circumstances have just . . . forced us to split apart. It was good to see them in person again.”

“Do you know–”

“Peter? Dinner’s ready, I got ice cream after work to take off the edge, but it’s really not that bad tonight–”

Both Peter’s whipped around at the sound of her voice, the three of them staring stock still, only the sound of their breaths indicating that time was still passing.

May broke the spell first, sighing deeply and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Peter. Is there a reason you didn’t tell me about–whatever this is–sooner?”

Peter’s double reddened. “I . . . just found out myself?”

May shook her head. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to lie to me, Peter Parker.”

The boy sighed. “Yeah, I know. It’s a bit of a long story, I promise I’ll tell you later.”

“Hmm.” She turned to Peter–and if seeing MJ in front of him was like a punch in the gut, this was . . . Peter wondered if he was still breathing correctly. He couldn’t blink, knowing that if he closed his eyes for even a second the image of her sweat-streaked, blood-soaked form would replace the one standing in front of him. “You should come in for dinner, then.”

“Wha–what?”

“Dinner’s ready. If you’re enhanced like my Peter, then I know you’ll need more food than I can give right now, but I’d love it if you come in and join us.”

Peter glanced over at his alternate, who also looked a bit uncomfortable at the idea. 

“I’d–I mean, I’d hate to intrude on your dinner, I didn’t mean to stay out this late anyways. I didn’t mean to spring this on you or anything.”

“No, no, it’s no trouble. Please, it won’t be long.”

And he looked at the last family member he’d had, the person whose death he’d brought about by his carelessness, the woman who’d loved him when she’d had nothing else and helped teach him to love everyone else.

He looked May Parker in the eyes as she smiled at him, clearly stressed and confused but pushing through it to welcome him to a home she had no way of knowing he hadn’t been part of in over a year–and nodded, stepping forward to take her hand held out in invitation.

/*/*/*/*/

“Look, kid, I know I was trying to sound like the cool, chill adult I am about the time earlier, but it’s past nine PM, and like the idiots we are we didn’t give you a phone to keep in contact, but I know Karen is connected to FRIDAY in that suit and–hang on, are you okay?”

Tony stopped his anxious pacing to actually look at Peter, his eyes widening in concern.

Peter shrugged, though the dried tear tracks and reddened eyes could do all the talking for him.

Dinner hadn’t lasted too long, as May had promised; not nearly long enough, at least. His moping on a rooftop for over an hour afterwards, though, had set him back a bit, even before he had to take the subway the forty-five minutes back to the tower.

“ This world is really different, ” he manages to whisper after a minute, the last word breaking into a sob. The sound almost broke him, only his last vestiges of willpower keeping him from collapsing.

His knees nearly do buckle when a pair of strong arms encircle him, Tony’s chin settling on top of his hair.

“Wanna go down to the lab and mess around aimlessly until we inevitably screw up and injure ourselves, and then get yelled at for it in the morning?”

The noise that came out of Peter’s mouth was still more sob than laugh, but he nodded.

Tony pulled back just enough to lead him down to the lab, where they did just as he said until the sun rose, only stopping for snacks and the occasional bathroom break.

They didn’t talk about what Peter had done that day, or the looming deadline they both knew was approaching, when Wong would tell them that he’d figured it out and was sending Peter back to his own world. 

They didn’t talk about it, but neither could keep it off their mind the whole time, either. 

Chapter Text

The message came in the early hours of the morning.

A fist-sized hole in the space of the lab opened to let through a small note, landing almost on Tony’s nose where he sat idly on his phone. He did his best not to startle audibly, not wanting to wake the sleeping spider beside him.

He set the note down a second later, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

Apparently, that America girl they’d helped save from the tentacle monster a few days ago had not only returned to this universe safely with Strange, but in the process had learned to control her powers. Good for her. Wong was hopeful that she could return the foreign Peter to his own world, and told them to expect her before dinner.

He shouldn’t crumple the note. Peter might want to see it later.

Only grumbling under his breath a bit, he folded it lightly and set it to the side. 

The two had worked long past an acceptable hour the night before; Tony had messaged Pepper a hurried excuse around ten, promising he’d still be available for his nine a.m meeting the next morning. His wife probably knew he was lying and would be late, but mercifully chose not to say anything about it.

Around six a.m, Tony had turned around to make the two of them another mug of coffee. When he’d turned back around, the kid had been collapsed on his arms at the desk, his face finally peaceful in sleep. A tiny screwdriver still sat in his palm, his grip surprisingly tight around it.

Tony sighed, staring not for the first time at this version of the kid he loved so much. In sleep may have been the only time he’d seen this Peter truly relaxed. If he wasn’t tense or unsure, then he was outright hostile. Tony wasn’t fooled, though; this Peter was just as sweet and good as his own, even if the nature was dampened a bit by all he’d had to go through.

By all he’d be returning to, in less than twelve hours.

The fate of the multiverse might be in danger if he stays too long, he reminded himself. This is for everyone’s safety. This is for his safety.

No matter how many times he repeated it to himself, though, he couldn’t quite make himself believe it.

/*/*/*/*/

“I don’t want to see her.”

Yes, he did. And he’d regret the words once Wong came that afternoon with that dimension-traveling girl, he knew, but he wasn’t about to change his mind now.

“You shouldn’t have called her over.”

“Kid.” Tony rubbed at the bridge of his nose, sighing. Peter didn’t look up at him from the guest room floor, though, leaving the man leaning against the door in frustration. “I didn’t call her, at least not at first. I had over a dozen missed calls from her this morning demanding more of an explanation about what was going on with a second Peter, why you were there, if you needed help–”

“I don’t need any help–”

“--so of course when I called her back this morning and filled in some of the gaps in our Peter’s explanation, I also told her that you were leaving today. I never demanded or even formally invited her to come over, I just didn’t bar the doors when she arrived.”

Our Peter. Peter tried to shrug off the bitterness the words brought. They weren’t wrong, after all.

Yesterday, a chance to see what had been the last of his family was a miracle. He’d known–he’d known it’d probably be the only time he’d see her in this world, but he hadn’t . . . known. 

He hadn’t known how deep it would cut, the thought of saying goodbye to May Parker again.

So he knew he was being rude, and childish, when he refused to see this May again. But  he wasn’t going to change his mind.

Tony eventually seemed to realize the same thing, because a moment later he sighed again, this time more quiet, and resigned. He turned to open the door, saying over his shoulder, “She brought lunch with her. I’m sure she’ll bring it over if you ask FRIDAY to give her the message.”

Wondering how long it’d take him to regret the decision, Peter lay down on the bed, shaking his head.

He didn’t give FRIDAY a message, but May brought him a huge plate anyway, leaving it outside the door when he didn’t answer her invitation to come out and join them for lunch. After she left he soundproofed the room, wishing he could smell-proof it as well; the food outside the door was his most frequent takeout order from their favorite thai restaurant, and the smell was making his heart pang as much as it was his stomach.

At risk of sounding like a complete angst bucket of a teenager, Peter was determined to stay in his bedroom until Wong and the girl, America, got here to send him back to his own world. Seeing May and Tony–and the rest of the Avengers for that matter–would just make it harder when it was time for him to go.

Which he should have known all along, of course. It was stupid of him to spend the time with them that he did.

“Wow, you really are a teenager, aren’t you?”

The sudden voice startled Peter onto the ceiling, wrists pointed instinctively toward the voice even though he didn’t have his webshooters on.

His eyes went wide once he caught sight of the intruder’s upside-down face, as if the extra diameter would change what he was seeing.

“ . . . Dr. Strange? What-what are you doing here? And how did you get here? And wait, you don’t know who I am–”

“Correction,” the sorcerer cut him off. “I didn’t know who you were. And I suppose I still don’t. But I know more than before.”

Slowly, brimming with even more questions than before, Peter dropped from the ceiling. Why hadn’t his spidersense alerted him that Strange had gotten into the room somehow? How had the sorcerer gotten here, and how had he found out who Peter was?

“I’m sure you can guess some of the questions I have,” he said slowly, no idea where to start on the questions himself.

“I can. I hope you have a bit of time to listen to the answers.”

/*/*/*/*/

Apparently, it had started when, as Strange was back in the Sanctum preparing to send the captured Spot back to his own world, the villain shouted that he knew who Spiderman was in this world, screaming Peter Parker’s name before he disappeared.

The name stuck, and Strange investigated, finding–of course–nothing, as the spell had protected people’s lack of memory by erasing all the digital evidence of him. 

Strange had felt an odd need to continue searching for some answers, though, leading to him tracking the energy from the Spot’s attack to the universe Peter had been sent to, where there was both a Spiderman and a Peter Parker with the same physique and voice as his own Spiderman. 

He’d been able to figure out the rest from there.

/*/*/*/*/

Peter stared, absorbing the information. It was nice that Spot had waited to start shouting his real name until after he was out of the public, but, Peter thought dejectedly, what would it have mattered if he had said it for others to hear? It wasn’t like he had family or friends to protect anymore.

It was strange, during the story, to hear the sorcerer say his name again. He was stuck in the disjunction of a Stephen who knew who he was, just with none of the memories to go with the information. 

“So, are you, like . . . here?”

“Not exactly. You can think of it as a trans-dimensional astral projection. My physical body is currently in a meditative state in the Sanctum of our world, while my spiritual form is able to cross into this world for a limited amount of time.”

“Right . . . okay.” Peter sat down on the bed. “Why did you come here, then? Just to see who I was?”

“Not exactly. In trying to find out about Peter Parker in our world, I went back to our last major fight, at the Statue of Liberty. I have almost no memory of it, you know; I looked into the spells I cast on that day, and on–”

“Wait, you guys can do that?” Peter frowned, thinking. “Like a–like a magical chrome browser history or something?”
The sorcerer sighed. “We can do a lot of things you don’t know about. And sure, if that’s how you want to imagine it, then yes. I looked through my past spells like a magical chrome browser history.”

Peter nodded, like he was emotionally keeping up with any of this conversation.

“Anyways, one of the last spells I did that day was erasing the memories and digital record of Peter Parker across the universe. There was only one thing to conclude from that” The sorcerer sobered, leaning forward and leveling Peter with a serious look. 

“You were alone.”

Peter shrugged. As much as the words hurt, it was hardly new information. He’d had time to dull the hurt inside.

“Well, yeah, but I’m the one who suggested the spell to you. It was just the consequences of my actions.”

Strange rolled his eyes. “Somewhere in that emotionally traumatized mind of yours you know that’s not what I meant.”

Peter just shrugged again, looking down this time.

Strange took a deep breath. “What if I told you that there was a way for you to stay here safely, in this world, permanently?”

“That’s impossible.”

“Is it?”

Yes, it was. Because it had to be. Because it was too easy, because Peter didn’t deserve an out like that, because these Avengers didn’t need the burden of another Peter to worry about messing up their world. 

“As I said, I looked into the spell I cast for you that day. It’s irreversible, Spid–Peter. There is never a way that anyone you knew before will ever remember you. If you go back, you will never get any of them back, and that’s not even mentioning the people here that aren’t there anymore.”

Peter swallowed. That was . . . blunt. But not something he hadn’t known already. He’d already decided not to try to contact anyone he’d known before, no matter what.

“It’s . . . possible? Like, seriously possible? Not just in theory, but–because there’s no way I’m staying if it means the people here might get hurt because of it. And how would that even work, with two Peter Parkers living in the same world, and would–”

“Now, all that,” Strange interrupted, “is not my problem. Whatever you choose to do after if you stay–that’s on you. But yes, I found a definite way for you to safely stay here, even though there’s already a version of you here. Do you want that?”

There wasn’t a word for how much he wanted that, but that didn’t mean he should accept. He was Spiderman, he couldn’t make decisions based off of what he wanted. He would still be a vigilante if he stayed, meaning encroaching on this Peter–and possibly all of the Avengers’--territories, and the last thing he wanted was for all of them to feel obligated to worry about him.

As if he could hear the silent worries, Strange–at least his spiritual form–stood. “What if we asked the others, hm? I understand most of them are out there now.”

“What, no, you can’t–”

“I’m practically a ghost here, Parker, meaning you can’t stop me from walking through the door past you. You can either join me for the conversation or stay in here.”

Sure enough, he passed through the door the next second, Peter cursing as he hurried out behind him, the lunch at his door being knocked aside.

As Strange had guessed, most of the Avengers, plus May Parker, were congregated around the common room or kitchen. Sam and Bucky currently cursing each other out over the foosball table between them, Steve showing May some new recipe in the kitchen, the others playing their own games or conversations, varied as they were; Tony and Bruce were discussing the flaws in Tony’s latest project, while on the other end he was pretty sure Thor was actively talking Loki out of a murder.

All, though, turned their heads when the not-quite-solid form of Dr. Strange not-quite-walked into the room, a red-faced Peter Parker trailing behind him. 

“Everything okay, Wizard?” Tony asked, his concern only thinly veiled. “Wong should be over in a bit with your friend to send Pete back home. Did something happen?”

“More than you know.” Strange’s form sat on the closest chair, gesturing that they all do the same. “Now, I’d like no interruptions. I’d prefer for this to be decided before Wong gets here.”

“For what to be decided?” Thor asked. Peter glanced over, only to see that sometime in the last minute Loki had taken the opportunity to teleport away. Hopefully not to kill anyone.

The man wasn’t physically there, Peter had to keep reminding himself as Strange repeated his proposition to everyone else, feeling the entire room’s eyes keep flicking over to him. There was no way to physically stop the sorcerer from talking; Peter might have been able to beat Strange when he was in his own astral form, but he was pretty sure this didn’t work the same way.

“I can’t hold this form for too much longer,” Strange said once everything had been explained. “So I’m afraid you don’t have long to decide–”

“Yes.”

Everyone turned to Tony, surprised by the immediate answer.

“If that’s what he wants, of course, that is,” he amended. “But yes. That’s our answer.”

“You’re certain, Tony?” Steve checked, though even he didn’t seem fully disapproving of the idea.

“More than. I mean, what’s the other option–that he goes back to being alone in his own world, staying who knows where–”

“I have an apartment–”

“No, not now, the adults are talking.”

“I’m eighteen!”

“Not good enough. Anyways, it isn’t even a question. If Peter wants to stay, then he’s staying.” He paused. “Right, May?”

“Right,” May agreed, just as fast as Tony had. 

Peter blinked, almost looking over at her in surprise. He’d known she’d say yes–her generous nature and need to help others wouldn’t allow for anything else–but he’d expected at least a bit of hesitancy. As much as he resembled her nephew, he wasn’t technically the same person. She didn’t really know him.

“Is that what you want, honey?”

Peter ducked farther away from her, his next breath faltering. 

“I can’t–I can’t just stay ,” he insisted. “People rely on me to protect them in my world, I can’t just leave them.”

“I’ll make sure they’re protected,” Strange promised, his voice surprisingly gentle. “New heroes are popping up nearly every day. I won’t let your people go unprotected.”

“If more of those monsters show up, you’ll need me to–”

“You and I aren’t the only Avengers still around,” Strange reminded him. “If I can’t handle them by myself, I’ll get someone else to help. For once, kid, I need you to answer this question honestly: what do you want?”

Peter swallowed, the sounds clogging in his throat, which was suddenly painfully tight. 

What he wanted didn’t matter.

I want–

What he wanted couldn’t matter, because what he needed was to keep the people he loved safe.

I want so badly–

But Strange had promised that this world would be safe if he stayed.

That doesn’t mean they’d be safe. Reckless child. Terrorist. Murderer.

Peter choked on his next breath, wishing that the others weren’t there. That their breaths weren’t filling the room, their eyes weren’t on him so heavily with their concern and pity and heroic obligations. Wishing that the others would never leave.

It only took one, mostly accidental, look at May Parker’s face to make the words finally burst free.

“I want to stay here.”

He sagged, nearly dizzy after the confession, but it didn’t feel like relief. It felt like a betrayal, like defeat. Like the admission had broken something in him he’d been keeping together with the strength of old gum.

“Okay,” was all Strange said, the others similarly quiet in a way Peter didn’t like. “Then I need you to hold still.”

Peter didn’t look up still as an ethereal humming filled the air, able to imagine the sorcerer’s hands moving in that precise way as glowing sparks appeared around him, likely centered over Peter himself.

“It’s finished.” 

Peter blinked; he didn’t feel any different, but Strange certainly looked confident in his work, so he didn’t say anything. Just nodded, hoping the doctor got the message–even if he himself didn’t know quite what that message was yet.

Strange’s form stood, the astral projection already starting to fade a bit at the edges. “Well. Barring some terrible disaster in one of our worlds, I expect this will be the last time we see each other. I’d offer to shake your hand goodbye, but you know how it is.” He gave Peter one last small, rueful smile. “Goodbye, Peter Parker.”

And he faded away.

Peter took a deep breath, as much as he could. He wasn’t leaving. He was staying in this world with Tony and May and . . . himself.

But not, also. Just because he was staying in this world didn’t mean he’d be seeing them all the time; they just wanted him here so that they’d know he was safe.

Tony clapped his hands, startling Peter the slightest bit. “Well. That’s that then, I guess.” His voice had an odd quality to it Peter couldn’t quite place. “We’ll work out you staying permanently, and–oh, no.”

“What?” Bruce asked.

“I need to figure out how to tell Pepper and Morgan.”

Chapter Text

Peter’s neck felt weird.

His spidersense was one of the powers that, even after all this time, he wasn’t 100% on. He still couldn’t decode all its signals and meanings, especially since there wasn’t a real parallel to study in any spider species he’s found.

For some reason, the feeling only worsened when Peter stepped out of school, smiling and nodding to Ned’s rambling as he resisted the urge to rub at his neck. He stopped when he saw the familiar car at the curb.

He stopped his friend with a hand on his arm. “Sorry, Ned, but I think I have to go.” He nodded at the car. “Something must have come up that I need to be there for.”

Ned nodded, a gleam of excitement in his eye that told Peter he expected the details later. They waved, Peter turning to head for Tony’s car.

Hopefully nothing bad had happened. Tony had texted that morning that the alternate Peter was supposed to be sent back to his home world today in the early afternoon. Had something gone wrong with the process?

He had mixed feelings, admittedly, about his alternate. The boy that looked just like him but not quite. Who spoke just like him, but not quite. Who was him, but just . . . not quite.

The other Peter had been through a lot, that was clear, and Peter was morbidly curious about it all. At the same time, though, he knew it probably wasn’t safe for the other him to be there, and part of him was looking forward to things going back to the way they were.

“Petey!”

“Hey, Monkey!” His worries were momentarily paused as the six year old threw herself across the back seat to hug him. Morgan’s messy brown hair got in his face as the little girl hugged him around the neck.

“It’s been almost two forevers since I’ve seen you!”

Peter chuckled, catching his mentor’s smile in the mirror. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. It’s good to see you, Morgs.” He glanced back at the mirror. “Everything okay, Tony? I didn't know you were picking me up today.”

“Yep, surprise. Sorry, kiddo, I meant to let you know sooner, but I kept getting so busy at the tower. It’s been a bit of a crazy day.”

“Is everything okay?” He asked again, the feeling in his neck still not letting up. 

“Everyone’s fine,” Tony answered. Not, Peter noted, fully answering his question. “What do you think about ice cream on the way to the tower?”

Morgan cheered, pulling on her seatbelt, while Peter gave a slightly more hesitant smile. Not that Tony was ever shy about taking him discreetly for treats or spoiling him, but the spontaneous treat combined with his spidersense’s vague warning didn’t bode well.

Still, he didn’t protest as they stopped at Morgan’s favorite ice cream place on the way back, doing his best to let himself talk naturally with his favorite little kid as they drove, listening as she described what she’d been doing in school and the most recent movie she’d watched (it was one she’d seen three dozen times already, but that didn’t lessen the detail it was recounted in).

Pepper was waiting for them when they got back to the tower, giving Peter a hug and picking Morgan up, settling the little girl on her hip.

“Hi, sweeties,” she smiled, though Peter noted a nervous note to her words as she directed them to the couch.

“Daddy got us ice cream,” Morgan reported, wiggling a bit on her mom’s lap. “And it’s been forever since I’ve seen Petey, even though Daddy says it was only a couple of days, but I still don’t like it. He shouldn’t go away like that.”

Peter winced, wishing he could have explained the situation to Morgan before, but they all thought it would be best for her to be left out of the loop this time, since it would probably be fixed within a few days.

“Don’t worry, Mongoose, Peter isn’t going away. In fact,” he shared a look with Pepper, though it was more of a glare when she returned it, “we have something to tell you. Both of you, actually.”

This time, Peter did give in to the urge to rub at his neck a bit.

“Morgan, this is something that might be a bit hard to understand.”

Peter watched with increasing confusion and curiosity as Tony explained a basic version of the multiverse to his six year old, doing his best to answer her questions. Why did they need to tell her this? 

Tony was still going. “Well, a few days ago we met someone very special from one of those other worlds. His name is Peter Parker.”

Morgan’s eyes flicked to him. 

“Yes, just like our Peter. He was in a bit of trouble in his home world, though, so a way was found for him to stay here, if he wanted. And he did.”

She frowned. “So there’s . . . another Peter here?”

Tony nodded. “He’s not exactly like your big brother, of course, but they do look almost the same.”

“Like-like they’re twins?”

“Sure, sweetie. That’s a good way to think about it.”

The alternate actually looked a bit older than Peter himself, but he kept the comment to himself. He tuned out the rest of Morgan’s questions, too deep in his own.

The other Peter was . . . staying. The weird feeling in his neck his spidersense gave him retreated, only to be replaced with a slight churn in his stomach. 

This was a good thing, of course. The other Peter’s Tony was dead, he was pretty sure his May was too, and even though his friends were alive he apparently hadn’t seen them for a long time, for whatever reason. This Peter was all alone. It was good that he wouldn’t be anymore.

Would Tony want him to start working in the lab sometimes too, though? Would Steve invite him to go on his morning runs with him, even though Peter himself had habitually declined? If this Peter was a bit older, maybe he had the discipline to be able to get up early, even on the weekend after an especially late patrol. May would probably want to invite the boy over more often.

What if there was only room for one Peter Parker? 

Stop that, he scolded himself, shaking himself slightly. That’s ridiculous. Of course it’d be hard at first, but they’d work it out. Peter was not going to engage in an attention competition against himself, for goodness’ sake.

“Is the new Petey going to be my big brother too?” Morgan asked, slowly starting to look excited about the prospect of a second Peter instead of just apprehensive. Peter pushed away the curl in his stomach at the note in her voice. He was still her favorite–which didn’t matter, because again, this wasn’t an attention competition with himself.

“He might be,” Tony said hesitantly. “If he wants to. This is a bit new to him, remember. We’re all going to adjust to it together.” He turned to Peter. “Wanna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, kiddo?”

Peter froze for a second. He couldn’t tell Tony and Pepper his apprehensions; they were selfish, and he didn’t want to inadvertently pit Morgan against this Peter before she even met him. 

“It’s . . . sudden,” he settled on. “But I’m not upset. He seemed like he needed more people in his corner.”

“Are you sure, Peter?” Pepper asked. “You should have been there when the decision was made, but it was a bit rushed, the other Dr. Strange wasn’t able to stay long. We wish this hadn’t been sprung on you like this.”

“It’s really okay,” Peter assured her. He gave Morgan a small smile. “I only got to see him a couple of times, but the other Peter seems nice. I’m sure you’ll like him.”

The woman looked anything but convinced, but mercifully let the topic go for now. 

“Can I meet him?”

Tony smiled. “Of course, Morguna. He should be on the Avengers’ floor now. He’s been sleeping in a guest room on our floor, but we can get him set up in a room on the Avengers’ floor if you want instead.”

The little girl considered it for a moment before shrugging as she stood, taking her father’s hand. “I dunno. It depends.”

“Yeah? On what?”

“Like if he knows how to braid hair, or likes raspberries.”

Tony chuckled, turning to Peter. “Wanna come, too?”

Peter nodded, because he should want to see him. It was his alternate–it was him –and he should be there to say hi and welcome him, officially, to this world. To make sure the other Peter knew he was okay with the new arrangement.

“Have you gotten to meet him yet?” He asked Pepper as they got into the elevator, Tony instructing FRIDAY to take them to the Avengers’ floor.

Peter didn’t need a spidersense to interpret Pepper’s tight smile at the question. “No, not yet. But if he’s anything like you, I’m sure he’ll be a great addition to the group.”

The other Peter wasn’t there when they arrived. Morgan went straight to the kitchen, hugging Natasha around the legs where she was at the counter making dinner. A strong smell of garlic butter hit Peter’s nose and he swallowed the sudden saliva that had appeared in his mouth, looking forward to the food later.

“Aunty Nat!” Morgan squealed. “Did you know there’s another Petey here?”

“I do. Though I’ll admit I don’t know where he is right now.”

“You don’t?” Tony frowned. 

“ The new Peter is currently with Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers in the training room. I’ll call him up now.”

Peter was surprised when the tower’s newest addition came up; despite FRIDAY’s words, the other Peter certainly didn’t look like he’d been training, with his sweat-free clothes and body and dry hair. Was he just watching the others train? Peter couldn’t think of another option, and he supposed it made sense. The other boy was probably just a bit shell-shocked at the idea of staying here.

The other Peter froze for a second when he saw them, his eyes flicking to each of them in turn before settling on Tony. “Um. Hi. FRIDAY said you wanted to see me?”

Tony smiled at him reassuringly, the same way he would when Peter would spiral over exams or thinking about asking out the girl he liked. “Come on over to the living room, will you? It’s high time for you to meet my family.”

The other Peter swallowed before nodding, following them over to the couches. Morgan openly stared as she sat down in between her parents, glancing between the two Peters with her brows scrunched.

“They don’t look exactly alike,” she decided, the expression not changing. She pointed at the other Peter. “ He has the dark stuff under his eyes Daddy gets sometimes.”

Tony winced, either in consternation of Morgan’s comment or in shame of the accuracy. Peter took another look at his alternate, wondering how he hadn’t realized before how right Morgan was. The other Peter’s eyebags truly were able to rival Tony’s, a sunkenness to his expression that Peter himself hadn’t sported since his early days in the hospital after using the stones.

“They are different,” Pepper rescued them from answering. “I know it’s a bit hard to understand, but try to remember, sweetheart: they’re both Peter Parker, but they’re not the same person.”

The little girl nodded slowly, her brows scrunching a bit. She turned to the other Peter. “Do you know how to braid?”

He blinked at being put on the spot, before shrugging. “A bit? I’ve only done it a couple of times before, I’m not very good at it. I can learn, though, if you want.”

“Do you like raspberries?”

He smiled a bit at that. “Well, I like almost every food, so yes.”

Morgan nodded imperiously. “Good. You can stay, then.”

Natasha called everyone over to dinner not long after, allowing Peter to leave the awkward conversation of the living room in favor of the awkward conversation of the dinner table. The other Peter ended up in between Steve and Clint and, though he tried to hide them, Peter caught him staring most of the night at him and Morgan, who had claimed the seat next to him. His little sister seemed to be making up for the couple of days they’d lost together, her parents having to remind her to eat in between her stories.

The other Peter wasn’t the only one staring at him. He would catch the others glancing between the two boys multiple times, as it seemed to slowly be dawning on them just what having two Peters there would mean.

No one addressed any of the big, important questions right away: Would they adopt different names to be referred as so that people didn’t get confused when someone said the name “Peter”? Would the other Peter continue with Spiderman as he was, or would they try to reinvent his superhero persona somehow? Would the poor guy ever be able to show his face in public, or would they always end up using those SHIELD masks that he had used to sneak in to see Ned and MJ?

And speaking of them–what was he supposed to tell his friends about this? Ned was the only one that officially knew, but every day he was more sure that MJ knew and was just teasing him, and if she knew then–

“Would that be okay, Pete?”

He blinked back into the conversation, hoping he hadn’t missed Morgan saying something he’d be quizzed on later or something. “Sorry, what?”

Tony smiled at him. “Would you and your lookalike want to get some movie snacks put together while we get cleaned up over here? I got permission from May to keep you a bit later than usual tonight, and Morgan’s been itching for the chance to provide her famous Frozen II commentary to you again.”

Peter nodded, while not missing the point; Tony was not known for being subtle, and this was no different. Gathering snacks for all of them to last for an hour and forty five minutes was no quick feat, and the suggestion to do it with the other Peter clearly meant that Tony wanted them to have a chance to talk to each other more.

Oh, who was he kidding. Tony wouldn’t know healthy communication if it shot him with a repulsor. This was definitely Pepper’s idea.

The other Peter located the giant pantry easily enough, but paused once inside, scanning the shelves thoroughly for the popcorn bags.

“They’re on the top left,” Peter pointed, before offering his double a small smile. “Gotta say, I hadn’t thought about something as mundane as the pantry organization to be so different between worlds.”

The other Peter shrugged, pulling down two of the boxes, each with a dozen bags inside. “They might be the same, to be honest. It’s been a long time since my Tony and I did something like this.”

Peter froze with his hand half inside the candy cupboard, feeling like he could kick himself. His first question wasn’t supposed to bring up the other Peter’s dead mentor, darn it!

“R-right, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . . you and the other Avengers never met up together after that?”

“That’s–a bit of a long story. The Avengers in my world are just . . . a lot different, to here.”

He was reeling for a new topic as his double took out the first bags from the microwaves, shoving the next two in before shaking the first ones into a large bowl. Luckily, his alternate saved him from having to speak up first.

“How are they–your Ned and MJ, I mean?”

“Oh.” Peter smiled. “I mean, you heard Ned panicking about his MIT application. We all know he’ll be fine, though. MJ hasn’t said she’s as worried about hers, but I can tell she’s at least a bit stressed. Gwen is still working on getting her overseas application for Oxford, but she texted that her internship interview went–”

“Wait. Gwen?”

“Yeah.” Peter frowned. “Do you not know her in your world or something?”

The other Peter frowned in thought, and it truly was like looking in a mirror. “No,” he said finally. “I’ve heard of her, though. Then are you–” he cleared his throat, blushing. “Are you with her, or MJ?”

“Oh, I–” he felt his ears go pink, Gwen’s bright eyes and blonde curls immediately coming to mind. “Well, I guess I’m not with either of them, but I’m–I’m really into Gwen.”

The other Peter nodded thoughtfully, shaking out another bag. 

“It’s cool that you get to stay here full-time now,” Peter was happy to switch topics from the crush he had yet to even overtly flirt with as he crossed over to the fridge. “The longest I’ve stayed–apart from in the medbay, because that doesn’t count–was a week for this past Spring Break.”

“Oh, I probably won’t be staying here permanently. In the tower, I mean,” the other Peter clarified, as if that made Peter any less confused.

“Why wouldn’t you? Where else would you go?”

“I mean, I’m not sure exactly, but I had an apartment back in my first world. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard to put together the necessary documents and get one here, too.”

Peter stared at him dubiously. “How old are you, again?”

The other Peter bristled. “I’m eighteen.” Only a year older than Peter himself, then. “A perfectly normal age to have an apartment of my own.”

“I . . . suppose, you’re right.” He was glad he had enough tact not to ask why it didn’t sound like this Peter was in college yet, let alone at MIT. Maybe he had just decided to take a gap year.

“Still, that might take time. After all, you don’t officially exist here yet. Tony will want to make sure that you have an airtight false identity here before he even thinks about letting you move out somewhere.”

Even then, Tony was known for his protectiveness of Peter Parker. Peter doubted it would lessen too much just because this one was from another dimension–in fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if the protectiveness got worse, knowing what they did about this Peter’s family in his home world.

“Almost done in there, you two?” Tony’s voice called. 

“Just a few more minutes!” The other Peter called, muttering under his breath, “we really need more microwaves in here.”

Peter chuckled, his thoughts on his alternate’s living situation put on a temporary pause. “Here,” he offered, “I’ll take a few bags up to the kitchen on Tony’s personal floor to speed it up. Tell them I’ll be back down soon?”

The other Peter nodded, turning back to empty the newest bags into the bowl. 

“FRIDAY,” he asked as he got into the elevator, “Tony wouldn’t let the other Peter move out that quickly, would he?”

“ I think it would take a very strong case for Boss to be convinced to let the new Peter live on his own anytime soon.”

“Are you sure?”

“ He was trying to figure out what color the new Peter might like his room on his floor to be painted, and if his favorite snacks would be the same as yours so that he could order double on the next grocery run tomorrow.”

Peter smiled; that sounded like Tony. “I figured. Hopefully he tells the other Peter that soon.”

“I’ll see to it, Young Boss. ”

Peter exited on Tony’s personal floor, heading over to the kitchen. 

It was odd to think that there was already a Peter downstairs on the common floor. That someone so like him was here to stay. But they would figure it out.

Somehow.

Chapter Text

“I lost . . . I lost Gwen, my, uh . . . she was my MJ.”

Neither Peter 3 nor this world’s Peter had mentioned her last name, but they were surely the same person. Peter had never known a Gwen of any significance to him, and he wondered how commonly they were together across the multiverse instead of him and MJ.

He tried to imagine how the difference came about. Why the Peter here knew her but Peter himself never had. How much, exactly, had this Peter’s use of the stones changed everything? Peter knew a lot of the major things–the Avengers and May all still being alive, his identity staying secret as Mysterio didn’t have as much of a reason or means to rise to power–but the little things? How everyday people were affected by the decision? That would take further research. Maybe Mr. Stark would lend him a StarkPad to look up some of the political and economical states of the nation, even if just thinking about finding the answers felt like digging into a particularly infected scab. 

Instinctively, he flattened the fingers of his left hand towards his palm, freezing when his fingers hit the skin. 

He swallowed. Right. He was in another dimension now. Ergo, there wasn’t an Emperor Palpatine Lego figure from Ned for him to fidget with.

There wasn’t . . . anything.

Peter didn’t have a lot in that apartment, but what he did have . . . his heart beat painfully against his chest, and since he didn’t have the Lego figure he just balled his hand into a fist, his nails digging into the soft skin of his palm. 

All that Peter had left was the physical, in an age where so many of his memories had been digitally recorded. A couple of family photo albums he’d managed to salvage. All the printed photos he could find of him and Ned, only a few with him and MJ, and even fewer of the three of them together. One of him and Mr. Stark. A couple of the newspapers he’d sold pictures of Spiderman for. 

A few of his Legos, Ben’s old suitcase, a falling-apart stuffed dog his father had given him, as many books as he could carry, his sewing machine, some scrap tech he’d salvaged from the dumpster, and his clothes. Compared to others–compared to what he used to have–it wasn’t much, yet the thought of losing it made a hole open painfully in his stomach.

He could picture it now: rent day coming, his landlord knocking on his door when the payment didn’t come. He’d get out the master key and get into Peter’s apartment, and eventually figure that Peter had left. All his stuff would be thrown out when they weren’t able to contact him, making room for the next tenant. 

He saw the Emperor Palpatine figure be tossed into a garbage bag in his mind’s eye and blood started trickling down his palm.

“ Crap. ” He gasped, more out of shock than pain, the bright red against his pale skin helping bring him back to the present a bit more. 

Being present didn’t help him to calm down much, though. This past year, he’d learned to treasure every little thing he had. And in one second, he had willingly given it all up. He had gained a version of May and Tony and the others, yes, but did that mean he had to say that his old life–and everything he’d still had that represented that life when it was still good–didn’t matter?

It did, right? Of course it mattered– he mattered, the friendship that had gotten him that minifigure and memories mattered, the love he’d shared, if only for a few months, with the greatest girl in the world mattered, even if he’d managed to screw it all up in the end.

The family he’d only recently been able to see either in pictures or at the cemetery mattered.

And they weren’t here.

“What was I thinking?” He let his head fall into his hands without thinking, only to gasp and pull back as blood from his palm was smeared onto his cheek and jaw. The sharp tang of iron filled his nose and nearly made him cough, rushing over to the bathroom to clean himself off.

He winced when he saw himself in the mirror, a few water droplets sliding down his face even after he’d cleaned and dried it thoroughly. Morgan’s innocent words rang in his head from earlier. “He has the dark stuff under his eyes Daddy gets sometimes.” She probably hadn’t thought twice about them, it was just a child’s innocent comment, but they echoed in Peter’s head now as he looked at the statement’s proof in the mirror. 

He’d never been known for his healthy habits or sleep patterns, certainly, but this felt like a new low. He looked, somehow, even more tired than he felt. He was thinner and pale, his muscles having lost a bit of their definition with his lack of food, even though he worked out swinging across the city every day.

He’d given up. That was the long and short of it. He’d told his friends he’d find them again someday and he’d given up on that promise, he’d sworn to the people of Queens that he’d protect them and he gave up. 

When he registered the voice saying his name, the tone made him guess that the voice had been trying to get his attention for several tries. Tony’s voice was worried but hushed from where he knelt in front of Peter, looking up at him with a trying-to-be-encouraging smile.

The man seemed to recognize when Peter came back a bit, because his smile turned a bit more genuine. “Hey, there, kid. That didn’t look too fun.”

“M-Mr. Stark?”

“I’m right here. Fri said you were upset, so I thought I’d come see if I could help.”

Peter shook his head. “I’m–that’s okay, you didn’t need to do that.”

“Hm. I remember you being bitten by a radioactive spider, not a hummingbird, so your heartbeat and breaths should not have been that fast; and thank goodness–Hummingbirdman sounds much less cool.”

Almost any other day that would have at least gotten a small huff of laughter out of Peter. Now, though, his hand was still itching to squeeze a Lego minifigure that wasn’t there in between his fingers.

“Wanna tell me what led to–all that, then?”

Peter hadn’t stopped shaking his head as the man spoke. “Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to stay here.”

“Hey.” Tony glanced at his twitching hands and slowly reached up, taking them in his own. “I know I don’t know the whole picture yet, but I gotta say I disagree.”

“It was selfish, and th-they’re all still there.”

“First off, it’s not selfish. And what’s still there?”

“My-my everything. My books, and photos, and–they’re going to get thrown out when I’m not there to pay my rent, and–” Peter sniffed. “It’s all I have.”

“Well, then, let’s go get it.”

“What?”

“Let’s go get it.” Tony stood. “According to Wong, we now have an enhanced here that can control her powers to travel to other worlds. So, let’s give her a call, grab some moving boxes and get anything you want to keep from there.”

“But it–it can’t be that easy.”

“It might be. Which is why we should ask.”

“But it’s almost midnight, we can’t ask them to do that.” Peter had already gotten more than he deserved when he was allowed to stay here, he didn’t want to make anyone regret that decision by bothering them at such an hour.

If it were just Strange or Wong they were bothering, Tony would have pushed more for them to go now, just to get that panicked look off the face of his kid. But the sorcerers weren’t the ones with the multiversal powers, and not even Tony was about to pressure a teenage girl into taking them across the multiverse so late.

“Fair enough. Then how about this–I go talk to our Strange and Wong now; they’re worse than me sometimes, I guarantee at least one of them is awake. And if they’re down, we’ll get Little Miss Multiverse tomorrow to take us over.”

“What if she’s in school or something?”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, Pete.”

“Oh. Right.”

“That settles that, then. Now, while I’m gone, you have to promise that you’ll at least try to go to sleep. You could still be facing multiversal jet lag or something for all I know.”

That, at least, cracked the smallest of smiles on the boy’s lips, and he nodded. “Okay. I–thanks.”

“Anytime, kid.”

Peter was still in the bathroom when Tony left, and Tony asked FRIDAY to remind the kid to at least lay down before too long.

He sent ahead a brief message to Strange that he was coming before driving over to Bleecker Street and striding through the doors as they opened for him. 

Strange and Wong were already waiting for him. Maybe he had woken at least one of them up, given the light glare they sent his way. Strange was in his usual getup, while Wong’s robe screamed “bath” more than “sorcerer.”

Tony wasn’t all that sorry, though, so didn’t bother apologizing. “So, we talking here, or somewhere else?”

Strange sighed sharply, rolling his eyes and gesturing over to a couple of couches and a fireplace at the side of the lobby. “Sit down.”

“I assume you both know about the most recent development?”

“Yes,” Strange bit out. “That Peter’s Stephen came here briefly to tell us. Not that you care, but I don’t like this. Even with the spell put on him, there’s nothing to guarantee that this won’t have disastrous side effects.”

“Yeah, only you would distrust yourself that much.” Untrue; if Tony met an alternate of his own his first thought wouldn’t be to make friends either. But it did feel very on-brand for the wizard as well. 

“Why did you come here, Stark?” Wong asked. 

“Right. Well, I need you to get in contact with that girl that can travel the multiverse. We need to visit the new Peter’s world and get his stuff.”

“Now?”

“Not now, it’s the middle of the night. Tomorrow, though, yes. He deserves to have them with him before someone from his world decides to toss it out. So, can you get a hold of the girl and have her do it?”

Strange sighed. “Maybe. She’s still new to controlling her powers. I can’t guarantee that she would be able to open a portal to the right world, or how long she’d be able to keep it open. I can try, though.”

“What does your original Peter think about his alternate staying?” Wong crossed his arms.

Tony bristled a bit; he regretted, of course, that they couldn’t tell this world’s Peter sooner, but that Strange hadn’t been able to stay long. He didn’t know what else they were supposed to do.

“He’s adjusting, as we all are. But he’ll be fine. Peter’s strong–they both are.”

“Fine, then,” Strange said. “I’ll portal over with America tomorrow, if she agrees to try and get to that world. I looked into it after that other Strange left; from the brief way he described it and my own research, it seemed to be Earth 616.”

Tony frowned. “The worlds have number designations? Who decided that?”

“People with much more knowledge and power regarding these things than us.”

Well, if that wasn’t intriguingly vague. There was time to find out more about the multiverse later, though.

“What’s this world called, then?”

Strange paused in thought as he stood, but it was only for a moment. Tony smirked; he knew the man wouldn’t have been able to resist figuring it out. “This is Earth 599.” He gestured to the door. “If that’s all, I trust you don’t need to be seen out?”

“The door’s twenty feet behind us, Dumbledore, I think I can manage.”

/*/*/*/*/

“Is Peter up yet?”

Wanda looked over from where she was flipping pancakes at the stove, Vision chopping potatoes beside her. Tony was grateful; for all the knowledge in his head, Vision still had yet to master the art of cooking.

“I thought Peter went home with May last night?”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not that one. Our Peter did go home with May last night–or, I guess they’re both our Peters now. But no, the new Peter, that’s staying here now. Is he up?”

Vision frowned at Tony’s ramble. “You know, we really ought to come up with a communal way to distinguish the two of them.”

“No kidding.” Clint was still in his pajamas as he came in, his hair sticking up towards the ceiling. “Last night during the movie I was doing my best to just not say their name at all. If I wanted more popcorn, it was just ‘hey you.’”

The others, including the Peter in question, trickled in as the smells of breakfast increased over the next few minutes. FRIDAY said that Peter had fallen asleep by the time Tony returned to the castle, but he had no idea how long the boy had slept after that. His eye bags didn’t seem any darker, but they sure didn’t seem any lighter either. 

Peter sat down at the counter, blinking in sleepy surprise when Wanda almost immediately set a plate of pancakes in front of him. By the time he recovered enough to offer a quiet “thank you” she had turned back to the stove, giving him a smile over her shoulder.

“Vision’s right, Pete,” Tony said, continuing a conversation the poor boy hadn’t even been a part of. “Sometime today we need to figure out a less confusing way to refer to you and your counterpart from this world.”

Peter shrugged. “You guys can pick whatever, I don’t really care what you call me.”

Tony frowned. He didn’t remember much from his single, mandatory literature class at MIT, but he was pretty sure the professor would have something to say about Peter’s statement. Something about the protagonist’s lack of a sense of real identity or something, Tony wasn’t an English major.

“Well, we care. Hopefully Strange will be by soon, and we can grab your stuff from your world. By the time we come back, the other Peter should be here, and we can discuss less confusing names then.”

Peter didn’t protest again, just gave a weary nod as he started into his pancakes.

Normally when Tony was anxiously waiting for someone, he would look towards the door the person was supposed to enter from. However, with the knowledge that Strange could portal in from any place in the room, or even in a different room in the tower, Tony didn’t know where to direct his nervous energy, leading to an irritated Natasha smacking the fork out of his hand when he kept tapping the tines against his plate.

“So you’re sure Dr. Strange was okay with coming today?” Peter asked for the fourth time as he helped Sam wash the dishes after everyone had eaten, scrubbing neurotically at a plate that looked, at least to Tony, plenty clean already.

“Kid. At this point, if he’s not okay with it I’ll just march back to that place and–”

“And what, Stark?”

Oh, thank goodness. Ordinarily Tony would have quipped back immediately, but he was too relieved just knowing that they were finally going to be able to ease a bit of Peter’s anxiety, even if it was only a little. Their first Peter had texted that he would be over within half an hour; Tony just hoped they didn’t leave him waiting here too long.

“And offer you a job entertaining at Morgan’s next birthday party. Now, where’s the guest of honor?”

“I’m guessing you mean me?” The head of a teenage girl poked out from behind the sorcerer, closely followed by the rest of her. Tony vaguely recognized her from the fight where Strange had met her–and he knew the younger Peter would have too–but this Peter showed no such recognition as the girl tucked a piece of her brown hair behind her ear. 

The girl–America?--gave a shy smile and wave to the group, before turning to Peter. “Hi, I’m America. I’ve been told you’re Spiderman in your world, too?”

Peter nodded. “Sorry to bother you for this.”

America waved the concern away. “It’s no trouble, really; Stephen says it’s good for me to get in more practice with my powers, and I’m happy to help. Just, uh, give me a minute first. Finding the right world could take a minute or two.”

They all nodded, everyone still in the room going obediently quiet as the teen held her hands in gentle fists at her side, taking deep, measured breaths. A little less than three minutes later she tensed, before punching one of her fists out in front of her. A star-shaped hole appeared in the world, leading to a rooftop overlooking the city.

Tony did his best to blink his surprise away quickly, turning to Peter. “Alright, then. Ready for us to head through and grab your stuff?”

Peter paused on his way through. “You don’t have to–I can just go grab them myself.”

“Nope, not happening. I know I can’t go, but one other person has to go with you. Even if you can carry it all by yourself, someone has to be there to open the door for you or something.”

The order definitely had nothing to do with Peter’s insecurity over being here, or the pit of worry in Tony’s stomach that if left to his own devices their newest member would just choose to stay in that place again where he was all alone. Tony wasn’t about to take any chances, even if he had just met this Peter a couple of days ago.

Peter sighed, but finally gestured to Clint. “He’ll probably cause the least amount of chaos if spotted.”

Clint fist-pumped the air, coming forward to join Peter by the star.

“I can’t hold it for long,” America warned. “Go through now, and then I’ll open it again at the same spot in half an hour.”

“Thanks.” Peter offered her a small smile as he stepped through, Clint right behind him.

/*/*/*/*/

Four boxes.

Every truly valuable thing in Peter’s apartment, everything he cared to take to this new world, could fit into four boxes, only one of which could count as large. He pictured his old room, filled with books and knickknacks and gadgets and the smell of May’s favorite laundry detergent, and felt a familiar pang in his chest. 

He’d insisted that Clint wait on the roof for him; there was no need for the Avenger to see the state of his living space, and it would only take two trips for Peter to bring the haul up himself.

Once everything was up, they sat by the boxes. It would only be a few minutes before America would reopen the portal, but it was already feeling like forever.

Clint, thankfully, didn’t comment on how little Peter brought up. He did, though, open up one of the boxes and pull out out the first thing he found to examine, which happened to be one of the photo albums. He opened it to one of the first pages, a toddler Peter waddling among a park, not even eye level with the daffodils he was trying to smell.

“Aww.” Clint smiled. “You’re cute. I wonder if the other Peter has one like this.”

Peter shrugged, going red. “I almost didn’t bring it. They died a long time ago, and like you said, the other Peter probably has one like it I could see if I asked.”

Clint paused, placing the album back in the box. “Peter, that’s–that’s not what I meant. Your alternate might have a similar experience–maybe even the exact same–but that doesn’t mean that yours doesn’t matter. It does. So does the family that recorded all these photos. They’d be happy that you decided to bring them with you. Even if the other Peter’s entire family were still alive, they’d be happy that you brought these of yours. You’ve had a lot of the same experiences, but you’re not the same person.”

No kidding, we’re not. Peter just shrugged again, choosing not to comment. He supposed he was glad he chose to bring his own pictures instead of asking the other Peter to see his; it might have broken something in him to have to ask to see pictures of his own family.

Clint opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could the air shimmered around them, a star-shaped hole appearing. Peter eagerly took the excuse to escape the conversation, grabbing two of the boxes and walking through, hearing Clint’s sigh as he lifted the other two.

They were immediately met with laughter on the other side, and his alternate crawling across the ceiling. There seemed to be a cross-level game of keep-away-from-Sam going on with the man’s drone, the other Peter currently swinging it attached to a web to Tony across the room.

“Hey, you’re back!” Tony almost missed catching Redwing, fumbling a bit with it as he saw Clint and Peter return. As soon as he was distracted Sam snatched it back, grumbling under his breath. “How about you go drop those in your room, then meet back out here for a bit? There’s something important we need to clear up.”

If Tony hadn’t said earlier that they were talking about making distinguishing names for the two Peters, the wording would have had Peter entirely on edge. As it was, the only tensed a bit as he and Clint dropped the boxes in the bedroom, coming back out a moment to meet the others on the couches; Peter stopped inside for only a moment, grabbing the Emperor Palpatine figure and tucking it into his hoodie pocket.

“So.” Tony clapped his hands decidedly as he plopped onto the couch by the other Peter, next to Peter’s own armchair. “Hit me with the ideas. Some way to be able to know which Peter you’re talking to when they’re both in the room.”

He first looked to the two Peters, but neither offered a suggestion. Peter still didn’t really care what they called him, and the other Peter looked nervous to suggest something potentially offensive.

“One could be Peter and the other Parker,” Steve suggested.

“Hm.” Tony shook his head. “I appreciate you getting the ball rolling, Stevesicle, but which would be which? The names can’t make it sound like one is more Peter than the other.”

Wanda frowned. “So, I suppose that tosses out the idea of one going solely by their middle name.”

“Yep, same problem.”

The debate continued for a few minutes, each suggestion being shot down for various reasons. Ironically, neither Peter spoke up during it, this world’s occasionally glancing over worriedly at his alternate to see how he was reacting to it all.

“Hey.” Peter glanced up as Tony interrupted Natasha’s suggestion, snapping his fingers in thought. “I just remembered something Strange said last night. He mentioned the number designations our worlds go by. What if we called them that?”

At long last, the other Peter spoke. “What are they?”

“Our world is 599, and our new Peter’s is 616.”

Bucky frowned. “I’m not sure calling them a number instead of a name is the solution here.”

“Well, then, we could lengthen it to ‘Peter 616,’ etc.”

“Would you be okay with that, Peter?” Bruce asked, looking directly at him to imply which he was talking to. “None of us want it to come off as us emphasizing that you didn’t come from this world originally.”

Not wanting Tony to give him a pitying look if he said he didn’t care again, Peter at least pretended to give it a bit of thought.

He really wouldn’t mind that much if they called him Parker, or Ben, or something, but he tried to picture them saying “Peter 616” or even just “616” to refer to him. It did have a bit of an industrial aspect, but the other Peter would also be called such, and Peter knew they didn’t mean anything impersonal by it.

Bruce’s worry was thoughtful, that they didn’t want him to feel alienated . . . but he felt like that anyways, and he couldn’t see that feeling changing anytime soon.

Besides, it was like Clint had said, what he himself had tried to assure himself of earlier. He wasn’t in that world anymore, but he had been for eighteen years. He’d loved and fought and struggled and played there, and it mattered. 

Peter’s life there mattered.

“I’m fine with that,” Peter said finally. 

“You’re sure?” Tony raised a brow. “Because we’ll keep thinking if you’re not, it’s not a problem.”

“No,” Peter said, “I really am. That world’s a part of me–it is me.”

Tony smiled. “Okay, then. Welcome to the universe, Peter 616.”

Chapter Text

Cars honked from the streets below, his knee bouncing with excess energy as he ran the patch through the sewing machine, humming a song he couldn’t remember ever hearing. If he didn’t focus too hard on his surroundings, he could almost picture being back in his old apartment, first putting the suit together. Following the designs of Peters 2 and 3 as closely as he could, going for the shiniest fabric he found in an effort to stand out against the shadows of the city, like a neon street sign you had no choice but to notice.

That was also in the section of fabrics that was on sale, but that wasn’t as important, of course.

“Hey, Pete, Morgan wanted me to ask–” Peter turned to see Tony paused in the doorway, eyebrows raised. “Is that a . . . sewing machine?”

Peter blushed, hunching his shoulders up defensively. “I don’t see why you’re so surprised; you saw the material of my suit before, this shouldn’t be news to you. And what happened to the whole ‘Peter 616’ deal?”

Tony waved the question away. “That’s only for when the two of you are together, or when I need to refer to 5-niner-niner to you, or vice versa with him. No need to use it now.” He moved forward, sitting down on the bed. “And I suppose you’re right, I did see the suit earlier. Guess I just blocked the memory out, it was a scary sight after all.”

Peter scowled, but there was little real heat behind it. “Some people I looked up to had their suit more like this. It’s worked well so far, for the most part. Until you cut into it, clearly.”

Tony winced. “Kid, you face muggers, gunmen and occasionally worse in that suit, I expect it to be able to hold up to stronger than some scissors. Seriously, what happened to the one I gave you? Did your Tony actually not give you one?” His face made it clear he didn’t find the option possible.

Maybe things would have been better if it hadn’t been possible, if he hadn’t gotten his high-tech suits from Mr. Stark to begin with. Maybe he hadn’t, in some other world.

It was probably a good thing he wasn’t able to see how things had ended up in that world.

“He did,” Peter said finally. Part of him wanted to deny it, but he wouldn’t lower this Tony’s image of Peter’s late mentor. “I had a few, technically.” The Iron Spider suit, the first one Tony had gifted him, and the one he’d made in the jet with Happy when he didn’t have access to the other two. “Stuff got . . . complicated, though. After Mr. Stark died. And after some–other stuff happened.”

Tony pursed his lips, looking more hesitant to ask now. “You couldn’t go back to the Avengers Tower to fix whatever was wrong, I’m assuming?”

Peter just shrugged. He didn’t know why this Tony hadn’t sold the tower like he had on Earth 616, and wasn’t quite ready to ask. “Like I said, it got complicated. Long story short, I lost access to the suits Mr. Stark had made me. Couldn’t use them anymore, so I made my own with what I could get my hands on.” He smiled ruefully. “It’s better than my very first one, at least.”

Tony snorted. “Sure, but that is a tragically low bar, kid. And you might not want to fix that one quite yet, anyways; we need to talk about you and Spiderman.”

He couldn’t stop–he wouldn’t stop being Spiderman. The past year, it had been the only thing he still had of his childhood. Not even multiversal complications and an alternate Tony Stark would be able to make him stop.

“Thanks, but I think I’m okay fixing this one.”

“Pete.” Tony sat down, making it clear that he wasn’t going to be able to get out of this one so easily. “There’s a lot to figure out, with you staying here now. The two main ones are your civilian identity, and your superhero identity. We can’t have two almost-identical Spidermen swinging around.”

Peter scowled. “We have the exact same powers, I can’t change that.”

“No, but we can change the way you look. Change up the color palette, maybe? Little different shape for the suit? Besides, I’m really not comfortable with you going out in a suit that isn’t able to properly protect you.”

Peter frowned down at his hands. He knew, logically, that Tony was right. It would be too much to explain two heroes with not only the same powers but also nearly the same suit, and it would be nice to not have to worry so much about patching his suit back together every time he scraped it open on a tree branch. 

He hadn’t always had the red and blue, he told himself. The suit he’d made with Happy was red and black, and his Iron Spider suit was red and gold like Iron Man’s. Spiderman didn’t need to be red and blue. He’d never considered a different shape, though; the bodysuit made swinging and aerodynamics for his flips so much easier, he couldn’t imagine something else topping it. 

“We can talk about it,” he said finally, before turning back. “I’d still like to fix this one up, though.”

“That works. Thanks, kid.”

He hummed. “Didn’t you say Morgan wanted you to ask me something?”

Tony cursed. “Right–surprised she hasn’t run in here asking what’s taking so long. She wanted to get a head start on those braiding lessons you were promised. Insists her Black Widow action figure is the perfect way for you to practice.”

Peter almost laughed at the image. Morgan’s small fingers trying to guide him into braiding a representation of Natasha Romanoff’s hair. He smiled, even as a curl of unease furled in his gut. He’d spent time with young kids before, sure, but never quite in this context. Never quite with the alternate-universe daughter of his mentor who already had a big brother that looked exactly like him. 

He hesitated, but knew he couldn’t refuse her the request. “Okay. Just let me get to a stopping point real quick?”

“Sure, kid. Meet us in the living room once you’re ready.”

/*/*/*/*/

The scene was about as he’d pictured it after all. 

“Now take that strand, and switch its place with the middle one. Now it’s in the middle, and you’re gonna do it again, but not quite the same, you gotta do it with the other side.”

Peter was glad that the basic technique of braiding had mostly come back to him after the first few tries; Morgan clearly knew what she was doing, but her instructions could have been more articulate. He painstakingly took the left part of the Black Widow figure’s hair, switching it into the middle and doing the same with the right, over and over until he got to the bottom. 

“How’s that?” He glanced over at Morgan, never having been so nervous for a six year old’s approval. 

She regarded it for a moment before nodding and handing him a small rubber band. “You’ll have more time to practice later.”

He almost laughed at the subtle snark, though he should have expected nothing less from Tony Stark and Pepper Potts’ daughter. 

His smile faded a bit as he listened to Morgan describe how Tony had gotten the action figure for her, and Pepper had helped her learn to braid on it when she had asked. The little girl was so happy, and she had no reason not to be.

The Morgan from his world–Morgan 616, he supposed, if they were using their designation from earlier–should have been able to come here, and Pepper. A place where the missing member of their family was still alive and the Avengers had gone back to being a happy, functioning group. Did Morgan 616 still happily braid dolls’ hair? It was nearly two years since her father had died in battle; did she have more good days than bad these days? Did Pepper ?

“Petey?” Morgan was glaring at him in light irritation. 

He blinked, shaking his head slightly. He really needed to stop thinking about Earth 616, but how could he ? “I . . . sorry, what?”

She huffed. “Well? Do you?”

“Do-do I what?”

“Do you play with me in your world, too?”

“I–no, I don’t. But not because I don’t want to! You and I just–we just never really got the chance to meet, so you couldn’t ask me to play.”

She frowned heavily, her little lips pursing. “That doesn’t make any sense. Daddy wouldn’t do that, he said he’d been waiting for years to show me my big brother.”

Peter’s breath caught, shaking the image away. Stop thinking about it. 

“It was just . . . more complicated there. I’m sure the Tony I knew there wanted us to meet, too, stuff just–got in the way.”

Peter wasn’t altogether sure how much Morgan had been told about the multiverse, or the world that Peter had come from. If Morgan didn’t already know that the Earth 616 version of her dad was dead–and Peter suspected she didn’t–then he wasn’t going to be the one to break the news to her.

However, that meant she wasn’t fully able to understand why Peter hadn’t played with the Morgan on 616, hadn’t loved her like a sister like Peter 599 clearly did. 

And Peter understood that. Understood why she couldn’t see the full picture. It didn’t stop the dull twist of guilt and anxiety in his chest, though, as the little girl wrinkled her nose. 

“It still doesn’t make any sense.”

Peter was saved from answering as Tony and Pepper came in, though he tried to keep any clear relief from his face; the last thing he needed was them thinking he didn’t want to spend time with their daughter. 

“Hi, sweetie.” Pepper reached over the back of the couch to pick Morgan up. “Wanna help me make some cookies?”

“Yes!” Morgan squirmed in her mom’s grip until Pepper set her down, the little girl now free to bounce on the balls of her feet. She took Pepper’s hand instead as they went over to the kitchen.

Peter looked after them. Would Pepper ask what Morgan thought about him? How would she respond? She had seemed annoyed with his answer, but she was only six years old, they got annoyed, it probably didn’t matter that much–

“So, how was hair-braiding class?” Tony’s voice forced Peter to look back away from the kitchen. The man had picked up the Black Widow figure, nodding at its braid. “Looks like you’ll be a pro in no time.”

Peter managed a weak smile. “It went okay. It was nice of her to show me again.”

“Anyways,” Tony set the doll back down. “Something you’re probably more excited about–ready to get started on your new suit?”

“Already?” They had just started discussing it not an hour ago; Peter hadn’t even finished patching the hole in his suit yet.

“Early spider gets the awesome suit, and all that. Come on down to the lab, we can start brainstorming.”

It was necessary, and Peter knew it. Tony had been right earlier; making a new suit meant making a new start here as Spiderman. Still, he couldn’t quite make himself follow Tony.

“Well? Unless the multiversal differences are even more prominent than I knew, you still can’t teleport, so you’ve gotta get moving.”

“I don’t–can it wait? Just until I get a bit more used to–being here? To everything? I just haven’t–been in your lab for a long time. I don’t know if I’m . . . ready for it.” He looked down. “I’m sorry.”

Tony’s face softened immediately. “Right, I–no, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that. Of course I’m fine with waiting, just try not to get too antsy with not patrolling in the meantime, okay?”

Peter gave him a small smile. “I’ll do my best.”

/*/*/*/*/

“Pepper.”

There was no response.

“Are you awake?”

She pointedly rolled over so that her back was facing him. Tony huffed. 

“I keep thinking about Peter.”

She mumbled something that he couldn’t make out.

“What?”

“Which one?” Pepper rolled back over, just enough for her voice to not be so muffled. 

“Oh. 616.”

“Why?”

“There’s just so much we don’t know!” He sat up, taking her question as full invitation to launch into all his thoughts. “How did his Aunt May die? Why does he think his friends are safer off if he’s away from them? And even if he did have a good reason to think that, why did they agree to it? I know I haven’t met his friends a ton, but I know they’re ride or die, they’d never just let him be on his own when May was gone, not to mention how surprised he was when I told him how many Avengers there were now–how many aren’t there in his world, and why? He said Sam is still Cap, but there was a weird tone to how he said it, and I can’t stop thinking about– oof .”

He was cut off as a pillow whacked him in the face, Pepper rolling to him just enough to glare at him sleepily.

“Tony. These sound like morning questions. I’m sure Peter 6s would agree.”

She rolled back over, and he could hear her breathing intentionally deeply, trying to quickly get back into a sound sleep. 

He wished he could do the same, he really did, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop shouting, so loud he felt sure Pepper could hear them if she tried. This Peter of the Sixes came with so many questions; and if there was one thing Tony hated, it was unanswered questions. 

The worst part was that he didn’t even really know how to ask the kid any of it. It was all pretty heavy stuff, that Pete clearly wasn’t comfortable talking about yet. 

He’d only been here for a few days, he reminded himself. Of course he wasn’t okay with opening up about the traumatic backstory yet. There was plenty of time to find out the juicy multiversal details later. 

Tony had never been known for his patience, though. He squirmed in the bed with another huff. 

“I’m going down to the lab for a bit to think,” he announced in a whisper, pushing the covers away. Or, rather, to avoid thinking at all costs. Pepper didn’t respond beyond a soft grunt that Tony wasn’t sure wasn’t just a cut-off snore. 

He made his way to the lab in a daze, forcefully thinking of things that didn’t involve the newest addition to the tower’s backstory. Like his front-story–his future in this world. Creating documents for a whole person that wasn’t in this world a week ago would surely present some problems. How would he get a job? Would he have to wear around that SHIELD mask every time he went out in public? 

Maybe he could hook the kid up with Peter 599’s friends. Theoretically, if he understood the multiverse at all, they should get along well with Peter 616.

It might also be through the SHIELD mask, given that Ned, MJ and Gwen couldn’t know about the whole multiverse thing, but it’d be something at least. 

He was halfway down the hall from his lab when he saw it, the light on in the lab. It was dim, but clearly on–set to Not-Quite-600 Peter’s favorite lighting, coincidentally or not. 

The boy started to look up, and Tony ducked back around the corner. When he poked his head around again, Peter was looking back down at whatever he was working on at the table, rubbing absently at his neck. 

“FRIDAY,” he whispered. “Don’t tell Peter 616 I’m over here.”

“ As you say ,” the AI whispered back. 

So much for the kid’s excuse of not being ready to work in the lab again. Tony tried to push away the initial bitterness, though; maybe the kid had just meant that he wasn’t comfortable working in the lab with Tony there? But then why not just say that? Tony might have been a little hurt, sure, but it would have been okay. Better than the kid working on who-knows-what at two-thirty in the morning.

“FRIDAY. Can you see what he’s working on?”

She hummed softly. “ He seems to be creating a mock-up of blueprints for the new Spiderman suit the two of you briefly discussed earlier. He has a notebook open with some ideas. The appearance is not exactly like any of the suits you’ve created for him so far .”

“Hm. Do you know how long he’s been down here?”

A momentary pause. “ My sensors indicated he entered the lab about an hour and a half ago .”

Getting less sleep, even, than Tony. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t more concerned.

“I guess I’ll just work with what I have in my office, if it is me being in there that’s the problem.” For now. He wanted to ask the kid about this sometime soon, at least. “Remind him to go to bed if he isn’t out by five, okay?”

“ Yes, Sir. ”

Tony resisted the urge to take one last look back at the lab before he left. Pete would be okay. If Tony’s presence was part of the problem, it wasn’t a problem they should be discussing at two a.m anyways.

This Peter was a mystery, to be sure. There were too many universal divergences for Tony to have a real idea to what he was dealing with here. 

He collapsed into his desk chair, suddenly much more tired than a moment ago. Tony Stark may not be a patient man, but he was glad to now have all the time in the world to work through this new Peter Parker. 

Chapter Text

“Dude.” Ned glanced around the bathroom, making sure they were alone before he continued in a harsh whisper. “Is this what I think it is?”

Peter had very little patience for the pronoun game today. “What? Is what what you think it is?”

“Your danger sense thing! You keep rubbing the back of your neck and glancing all over–is there danger? Should I cause a distraction so you can change until the danger arrives? Or is the danger even here –”

“Ned.” Peter rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He should be grateful, he supposed, that Ned waited to ask until he knew they were alone. His friend’s wide eyes begged for an exciting answer, but Peter hesitated to give it to him, knowing that Ned would just freak out. 

Finally, he sighed. Ned had toned down his excitement for Spiderman in the last couple of years; if Peter didn’t tell him now, the other boy probably wouldn’t bring it up again, but Peter wouldn’t need a weird sixth sense to feel Ned’s eyes on him the rest of the day, thinking about what could be going on. It would be like texting someone “hey, we need to talk tomorrow” with no follow-up.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure it’s the danger-sense-thing. Which we need a better name for, by the way. It’s a weirder one, though–I don’t think we’re in any danger here, and the feeling has been going on for hours now. I’m not sure what it means.”

“Wow.” Ned’s eyes were wide. “A new development.” The bell for the next period rang in the halls, and they both startled slightly. Do you think Mr. Stark will be able to help you figure it out?”

“Maybe.” And if he couldn’t, Peter 616 probably could. It was an odd thought, that they might have such different experiences with their powers, but not surprising. There was still so much about his alternate that he needed to learn. He forcefully ended the conversation, nudging Ned out of the bathroom so they could get to class relatively on time.

He resolved to ask the other spider about it after school. If they did have different developments in their powers, he wanted to know; it’d be fun to be able to train together, since they’d be the best suited to help each other. He just hoped Peter 616 would be open to the idea.

With how strongly the idea stuck to him throughout the afternoon, it was no surprise that it was the first thing out of his mouth after school, calling Tony as he scanned the driveway for the car Happy usually came in. Before any greetings, he burst: “Do you think Peter 616 would be willing to train with me?”

He’d kept his voice low, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. The area was clear, and he was happy to say that the weird feeling at his neck had faded by then. 

“Well, hello and good day to you too.”

Peter huffed. “Sorry. I just really want to ask about his experiences with the danger sense I’ve told you about. I know we don’t know much about him, but we do know that his life as Spiderman has been different from mine, so maybe he knows more about it?”

Tony sighed, the sound crackling over the line. “Peter, are you sure there’s no one around listening to you talk about this?”

“Yes, I’m sure. So? Do you think he’d be willing to?”

“I’d love to say yes right away, but he’s not available to ask. Fri says he hasn’t been in the tower most of the day. Hopefully he’ll be back by the time you’re here.”

A long, drawn out car horn interrupted Peter before he could ask his next question, and he looked up to spot Happy Hogan’s annoyed face through the car’s tinted windows. Sheepishly, he jogged over, mouthing an apology as he climbed in.

“Don’t you have some way of communicating with him? Asking him when he’ll be back?”

“His Stark Phone hasn’t been set up yet, apparently the work I did last night to catch up on the last few weeks wasn’t enough. Maybe you can help me with it when you get here?”

Peter smiled. “That sounds good. You should come with us to train the danger sense!” His mentor was always trying to get a better understanding of Peter’s powers, and this time he’d get to learn alongside Peter himself.

When they arrived back at the tower, though, Peter 616 still wasn’t there. Tony waved away the issue, even though Peter could see the concern in his eyes as he looked back over at the window Peter sometimes swung through.

“He’s still settling in, and I think he’s a spider that likes his space a bit more than you. He was probably just seeing if his favorite restaurants were still in town, and lost track of time. In the meantime, I remember a certain someone offering to help me set up our newcomer’s phone?”

Peter grumbled a bit at the thought of waiting, but dutifully sat down at his workstation, pulling over the phone Tony had set aside at his own personal work desk and opening up the case. 

“Why do you think he prefers having his space?” Peter asked. Just based off of Peter 599 himself, it wasn’t an obvious assumption; there were very few times Peter truly wanted to be left alone.

Tony shrugged, though he didn’t look at Peter as he did so, and that alone made Peter narrow his eyes. “Just a feeling. Based on some of the other differences between you two. I know I’m not the one with super senses, but I do get the odd correct hunch every now and then.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. As the one who did have super senses, that didn’t quite sound right to him. 

Over the couple of years that he’d had his powers, he’d learned a few methods to control them, especially after he started working closer with the Avengers after the Blip. Learning to focus his hearing and, if he concentrated, people’s expressions to see if they were lying or not. Tony wasn’t exactly lying, but he wasn’t exactly the truth, either. 

Tony wouldn’t withhold information from him for no reason, though, he reminded himself. Perhaps he had managed to find out something personal about their newest addition, and just wasn’t comfortable relaying it.

Peter could deal with that.

For now.

“What do we know about him?” He asked, glancing down at the SIM card’s loading status. “Just, like, everything we know about him. To get it all out at once.”

Tony hummed. “Not much. And while I would never try to jump to conclusions about something I don’t have the full information on–” Peter snorted– “I think we can both assume what that means.”

Peter nodded. If Peter 616 didn’t want to talk about his past beyond what he’d told them, that more than likely meant that it was even worse than what they knew so far–and what they knew so far was already pretty bad.

“But, to get specific,” Tony continued, not looking up from the holoscreen in front of him. “We know that his Tony Stark is dead; from the fact that Pete Sixer still has both his organic hands, I’d guess that he didn’t use the stones in his world, but his Tony did. We know . . .” here Tony paused, and Peter didn’t need the super senses to know that he was holding something back. “What he mentioned that day, with the team. Sam is still Captain America over there, and his world is about a year ahead of ours, in late 2025. We know he isn’t in contact with his friends, for whatever reason. And . . . that might be about it.”

And whatever Tony wasn’t saying, but Peter held himself back from pushing, if only just barely. 

Still so many questions. Why didn’t Peter 616 hang out with Ned and MJ–not to mention why he’d never met Gwen to begin with. Why was he so awkward with all of the Avengers? Why was his Spiderman suit so different?

One thing Tony had said finally snagged in his mind, and he paused his monitoring of the phone’s security software. “Wait. You really think he didn’t use the stones on 616? That 616’s you did instead?”

The man shrugged, swiping away the holoscreen for a new one with a deep sigh, this one looking less like project specs and more like the emails he’d needed to answer for Pepper. “ Think is a strong word. But it is a possibility. Don’t tell me you can see the dust motes across the room but not that he doesn’t have prosthetics?”

Peter blushed. Well, when he put it like that. 

“I guess I just assumed that he had found a safer way to use them, or that his regenerative abilities were more advanced, or they found a way to fix them faster so that he didn’t need prosthetics.”

“And maybe they did.” 

It was said casually enough, but just glancing over gave away the tension in Tony’s shoulders as he said it. Peter could sympathize; neither of them were great at being left without information.

Luckily, the source of all the information they were missing entered the lab a few moments later, swimming in a too-large hoodie that looked like it might have belonged to Thor. Judging by the residual pink tinging Peter 616’s cheeks, it didn’t seem that grabbing the hoodie had been the boy’s idea.

“Hey!” Peter waved him over, gesturing down to the phone in front of him. “I’m almost finished setting up your new phone.”

“Oh–you didn’t have to–”

“Don’t even try it, Almost Mark of the Beast.” Tony came over, slinging a shoulder around the still-blushing Peter. “We need a way to contact you, and your old phone plan didn’t include transdimensional roaming minutes.”

“What–what did you just call me?”

“You know, the Mark of the Beast, 666? Your world’s number is one digit different? I’m trying to make you two going by numbers less weird.”

Peter snorted as he pulled out the screen protector, wiping down the screen. “Sorry, old man, but I’m pretty sure you just made it weirder. Besides, Gwen’s mom told her that the Mark of the Beast’s number probably isn’t 666, but is probably closer to 6.99 or something.”

Tony waved away the concern. “Well, if the Beast has a problem with it, he can take it up with me. Now–616, 599 has a question for you.”

Peter smoothed down the new screen protector before looking up, nodding with a nervous smile. “Right. So, I was wondering today–how much do you know about our danger sense ability? Where you get the weird tingle at the back of your neck right as you’re about to be attacked? I haven’t trained with it as much as some of the others, and it just felt really–weird, today. I was hoping you might know more about it?”

His alternate only blushed harder, but nodded. “I mean–I guess I do. I can try to teach you a bit more about it?”

“Yes! Let’s go up to the training floor.”

The spidersense–as Peter 616 reluctantly admitted he called it–was an odd one to train with. In Peter’s experiences so far, it mostly just worked as an enhanced reflex, a split-second warning that a hit was coming. The way Peter 616 had experienced it was much more complex.

He recounted a time that he had to fight with his eyes closed, relying on only the sixth sense to tell him what was happening–though he refused to give any more details about the fight–and times when the sense had alerted him to other people being in danger rather than himself. He tried to explain the difference in feelings for each different time, and how to adjust for each one.

“Mine has been one of these powers that just kinda . . . evolved on its own?” The older Peter ran a hand through his hair as he tried to explain it. “I’ve never really tried to, like, practice with it, it just kinda happens in the moment? A new kind of tingle will appear, and my body will just react instinctively until I can consciously name what’s happening?”

Every statement was phrased as a question, as if Peter would suddenly stop the other hero and say “no, that’s stupid, that’s not the way that tingle feels.” As unsure as Peter 616 was trying to word it all, Peter could tell he knew what he was talking about, and really did have a lot more experience than him. 

He found himself wishing he’d brought something to write notes on, so that he could try to memorize all the different scenarios Peter 616 was describing, and how they might feel when it happened to him. FRIDAY was probably recording the conversation, though, he’d just have her play it back later for him to note.

“And it wasn’t until a couple months ago that I realized the slight difference between the spidersense’s response for adults, children and animals in danger, or the difference between someone hurting themselves and someone getting hurt by another person–it’s kinda like trying to explain the color red to a blind person. And even if I could explain the feeling, I still don’t know the why –most of the spider powers have some sort of scientific explanation, except for this one’s weird, psychic nature.”

Peter nodded, eyes wide. “Right? Tony and Bruce have worked with me a lot to control my senses more comfortably, and get a sense of how fast my healing works, but they haven’t found the right way to train the dan–the spidersense because of how little scientific sense it makes.” They might have never learned more about it if Peter 616 wasn’t here.

“Yeah, well.” The smile slipped off Peter 616’s face a bit, and Peter started to panic; this was the most he’d ever heard his alternate say at once, he hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings! He wasn’t ready for them to stop talking yet. “When I started learning and honing my sense more the first time, I didn’t exactly have a choice. Some people were in danger, and using the spidersense more was the only way I knew to save them.”

Oh. Peter sobered himself, trying to do some time math in his head. If Peter 616’s Tony had died in the fight stopping Thanos, and the other boy’s world was about a year ahead of Earth 599, then Peter 616 had been without a Tony Stark for over two years. He probably hadn’t ever had his Tony there to help develop his spidersense; Peter just hoped he hadn’t had to do it all by himself.

“What about long-term tingling?” He asked, trying to change the subject slightly. “I felt an itch at my neck nearly the entire morning. It was weird, and kinda distracting.”

Peter 616’s expression very carefully didn’t change for a moment, and that itself was weirder than if he had blushed again. Instead he frowned, shrugging. “I’m not sure, I can’t remember if that’s ever happened to me. I’ll let you know if I remember though, okay?”

Peter just nodded, his alternate saved by having to answer another question as FRIDAY announced that dinner was ready.

/*/*/*/*/

Peter supposed it made sense. Here, without Tony’s death, there was no EDITH, no Mysterio, no illusion-giving drones to evade. Peter 599 really hadn’t had a pressing reason to master his spidersense, or to give his spidersense a chance to master him. 

And thank goodness for it, or he definitely would have figured out that first day that Peter was following him. 

Well, not him, exactly. He didn’t need to see his alternate at school. He could picture what the identical boy looked like, because it was almost exactly how he’d looked with his friends years ago.

Who he needed to see was everyone else.

Ned’s hands gesticulating wildly as he told a story to Peter 599 in the hall; MJ glaring at Flash at lunch as the boy made an obnoxious joke at the other table, not-so-subtly flicking her spork so that it bounced off the back of his head, all while her free hand held open her well-loved copy of Much Ado About Nothing, notes filling the margins. Mr. Harrington in his classroom, trying to get the conversation back on track. Abe and Cindy arguing over who had answered a question faster at AcaDec practice. 

And Gwen. 

Gwen Stacy, Peter quickly found. With loose blond curls, a quick smile, and a quick answer in the classroom. She was either coy or clueless, because Peter 599’s constant stuttering and anxious knee-bouncing made it clear to Peter that he thought of her as more than just a good friend.

The most surprising thing about her, though? (that Peter definitely hadn’t Googled intensely as soon as he knew her last name?)

When he first learned that Gwen went to Midtown in this world, he’d assumed that she’d moved there sometime after the Blip. Instead, he found that she’d been going to the same school as Peter Parker here since the start of middle school, and that they’d been classmates since before Peter 599 even met Ned and MJ. 

It was weird to think about, and a bit confusing. Peter had thought that the main split in this world was when Peter 599 used the stones instead of Tony, but he had never known a Gwen Stacy in his own world, so something else must have happened before that. It would take some more digging.

He wasn’t always watching his alternate’s friends and classmates, of course. He made sure to balance it out by also watching May Parker.

She still headed FEAST here, organizing fundraisers and making meals for the less fortunate. Spiderman was still a big figurehead there, reportedly coming over on weekends and appearing at events. She and Peter 599’s favorite thai place had closed after the Blip, and she seemed to have personal beef with the overpriced burger place that had opened in its place.

Everyone at FEAST loved her, and she them. Just looking and listening in the few times he had so far, it was easy to see how much she cared. She greeted almost everyone that came through by name, with a smile and often a warm hug. When there were leftover cookies at the shelter, she gave them to the homeless she saw on her way home. 

Peter was careful; every time he’d gone out since coming to Earth 599 and staying with the Avengers, he had the SHIELD mask on, and had programmed it to show a couple of different faces. May hadn’t seen him–or if she had she didn’t know it was him–but there were several close calls. Several times that he almost went in and asked to speak to her privately so that he could pull off the mask and hear her voice again, just for him. 

The routine continued for five days–watching his old friends at Midtown before going to see and listen to his aunt–before one day he returned to the tower, only for his face to be staring back at him just as the elevator doors opened on the Starks’ personal floor. 

“I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out!” Peter 599 grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the elevator. He let go almost immediately after so that he could gesture wildly with his hands. 

“It was just like you described! Eventually the feeling wasn’t just there, it clicked, I couldn’t say why I knew what was going on, but I did, and once I did it felt so obvious! And, I mean, now I get more why it felt like you were holding something back with your initial explanation, even though I wished you would have just said it outright, and oh man I can’t wait to tell Tony!” He paused, hands stilling for just a moment before he turned back to Peter. “You’ve been stalking me.”

It wasn’t a question, so Peter didn’t answer it. Just crossed his arms defensively and responded with his own. 

“How do you know I’m the one watching you?”

The other boy’s eyes lit up. “So I’m right about what the spidersense was telling me?”

Peter sighed. “Yes; a low buzz over a long period of time almost always means you’re being watched.”

“ Yes! Well, I guess I didn’t have real proof that it was you, just some circumstantial evidence; the feeling didn’t start until soon after you got here, and I saw a face that looked a lot like your SHIELD disguise at FEAST. I guess kinda like the sense itself, it just felt kinda instinctual once I had the idea? I don’t know.”

The younger Peter didn’t sound upset, but what if he was creeped out? What if he demanded that Peter stop ? He hadn’t seen his friends in person for nearly a year, and even though this May knew about the multiverse, he couldn’t very well knock on her apartment door and say “hey, I haven’t seen you in months ever since I directly caused my May’s painful death–mind if I try to fill that hole by coming over for dinner or helping you at work?”

He wasn’t the same Peter he was years ago, the same Peter that Peter 599 still seemed to be. He was desperate, and alone, in a world that wasn’t even his own. 

“Please don’t tell Mr. Stark,” he said. “I’ll stop following you guys around if you want, but I don’t want him to get upset about it.”

Peter 599’s proud expression dimmed into confusion, and he shook his head. “No, you don’t have to worry about that. Tony wouldn’t be upset, but I won’t tell him if you don’t want me to. It was a bit weird to wonder what was going on, but you can keep seeing them. But–” he paused, “--maybe you don’t have to?”

“What?”

“I mean, not without them knowing at least. May definitely wouldn’t mind if you came over more, and-and neither would I. And maybe you could come to Midtown, too!”

Again, Peter had to say, “What? What do you mean?”

Peter 599 nodded, getting excited again. “Yeah! You said you’re eighteen, right? That’s a normal age to be a senior in highschool like I am. Once we get things a bit more sorted out with you here, I’m sure we could work out you going there, if you want.”

Peter hesitated, unsure of what to say. The conversation had changed tracks too quickly, having to adjust from thinking his alternate was mad at him to now being invited to come back to Midtown to possibly complete his senior year. 

  “That . . .” you don’t deserve that, you shouldn’t accept that, you only brought danger to the people there you cared about– “do you really think that’s possible?”

“Of course!”

“And you’d be okay with that?”

The other Peter shrugged, but he was still smiling. “I mean, it’d be a bit weird, but it’d work.”

Peter nodded. “Okay . . . I guess, if you’re sure. We can try asking Tony soon.”

He’d never get his old life back; he’d made peace with that a long time ago. To get Midtown back, though, to finish the school year that had been taken from him . . . it was something. And Peter was grateful for every little bit.

Chapter Text

Peter watched as a trio of dead people played three-way chess. 

“This is stupid,” Loki muttered as Vision took his second rook, gears visibly turning over in Loki’s head. Peter couldn’t tell if those gears were strategizing his next move, or the most efficient way to flip the table over.

“You agreed to play,” Natasha reminded him as she made her move. “You should have known Vision would be cheating.”

The synthezoid lurched back in offense at the comment. “I’m doing no such thing, Natasha. Cheating involves using knowledge you don’t have, I have not sought out any outside knowledge for this game.”

For all the trio knew, Peter was reading a book on the opposite side of the living room, not paying attention–well, Natasha probably knew he was paying attention, she was Natasha. And Vision seemed to know literally everything–and Loki was the god of lying and mischief . . . 

Yeah, they probably all knew Peter was listening and just didn’t care enough.

These three died, right? Not blipped away, but truly died. He wasn’t there to see them, of course, but he’d heard the stories on Earth 616. He’d overheard Thor talking about Loki with Bruce after Tony’s funeral, and Natasha and Vision definitely would have been at the funeral if they were able to be. 

Yes, Peter 599 had used the stones here and brought everyone back. But why had these three come back, if they hadn’t in Peter’s own world? He assumed that everything else had gone the same before the final battle–that Peter 599 and Tony had been together in space and on Titan, so this Peter hadn’t known to try and bring back anyone specific that had been killed, either. 

It didn’t make sense. If the only difference in the battle was who had used the stones, then why were these three still alive? Did they know of others killed while fighting Thanos that had been brought back by the stones?

“Loki,” Natasha warned. “Put the queen back on the board. Now you’re the one cheating.”

Loki scoffed, holding out his hands with an innocent little grin. “Come now, Romanoff–the robot already clarified the definition of cheating doesn’t involve knowledge one already has, therefore using magic I already know cannot be cheating.”

“Nice try. Put the queen back.”

The young god grumbled as he tossed the piece back onto the table, Vision catching it before it could tumble off the table.

Of the three, Loki was easily the one that Peter had seen the least of. He’d been eleven during the Battle of New York; he and Ben had sped over to the hospital May was working at as soon as the event hit the news, and he spent the entire event either running by his aunt around trying to do what little he could to help, or with Ben shoving him into a windowless safe-room where he’d be safe from the destruction outside.

The Loki in this world was still a bit arrogant and mischievous, but nowhere near the level of superiority and violence he’d had in 2012. Was Earth 599’s Loki really so different, or had Peter missed something about the trickster god between 2012 and the fight against Thanos?

At the very least, this Loki was trusted enough to go in and out of Avengers Tower and interact civilly with its occupants. Like Thor, he seemed to go between visiting the Tower and staying in this world’s New Asgard, where it sounded like Thor and the lady with the pegasus co-ruled. 

“And checkmate.” Vision stood, turning to the kitchen. “A good game all around. Now, I may not have need for food, but the rest of you should get to enjoy a post-game refreshment.” He glanced across the room. “Peter, would you like anything?”

Peter startled a bit, not having expected the question. The three of them knew he was there, surely, but he hadn’t expected to be acknowledged. 

Vision was still looking at him expectantly, so he shook his head, getting his thoughts back in order. “Um, no thank you.”

When he left, Natasha turned to Peter instead, waving him over. “Come on over; we haven’t gotten to introduce Loki to you yet.”

The god looked vaguely interested as Peter came over, but more in the way that a food critic looked interested in the dish brought out to him. Loki looked him up and down, before reluctantly holding out a hand.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said as Peter shook his hand for a moment, letting go quickly.

The tone gave nothing away about whether these things were good or bad, so Peter just nodded.

“It’s–good to meet you, sir.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I’m sure my brother’s friends have told you there’s no need for such a title. I doubt you still call me that in your world.”

Peter could practically feel Natasha’s smirk, remembering her words from the first time they met here: “How badly are you itching to call me Ms. Romanoff?” She hadn’t said anything about it yet, though, and thankfully didn’t seem like she would now.

“The multiverse has always been a unique brand of power,” Loki continued, accepting the glass of sparkling water Vision handed him as he returned. “I’m interested to hear about your dealings with it.”

“Do you mean that you already knew there was a multiverse?”

“Certainly. But not even we Asgardians could truly unlock its power. And perhaps that is for the best; goodness knows what my father would have done with that kind of access.”

Huh. Peter knew that the Asgardians certainly weren’t indestructible, but it was weird to hear Loki so easily admit to knowledge the warrior realm didn’t possess.

“Well, I mean, I’ve had a bit of experience with it–managed to meet a couple other Spidermen, that was weird–but if you really want to learn more about it, you should talk to Dr. Strange, he has a friend that knows some more about it than I do.”

“I beg your pardon,” Vision cut in, the weird plating that made up his eyebrows scrunched. “But did you say that you’ve met more versions of yourself from across the multiverse?”

Peter froze, instantly berating himself. Why had he let that slip? The last thing he wanted was for these Avengers to know any more about his world than necessary. If they knew about Peters 2 and 3, then they’d want to know about why they were there, and Peter would have to admit to almost destroying the universe.

He already wasn’t as good as the Peter they already had. He didn’t need them to know just how much of an inferior Peter Parker he was.

Vision was still staring at him, Natasha and Loki also looking over curiously. Just keep it vague. 

“Um, yeah. I met two others. We had a bit of universe trouble in my world about a year ago, and they ended up being sucked into our world. They were pretty chill, and we got them back to their own universes within a couple of days.”

“Fascinating.” Vision leaned forward.

“Did they differ from you much?” Loki asked.

Peter relaxed a bit; the other Peters’ worlds were safer to talk about than his own. “Well, it wasn’t like this world and Earth 616, they both seemed to be way different. The other Spidermen were both named Peter Parker, but they were both older than me, and didn’t look like me either. They didn’t have the Avengers there, or the Blip. And one of them could shoot his webs directly out of his wrists. That was . . . weird.”

“Did any of us get to meet them?” Vision asked. “It sounds like they weren’t there long, but that would have been quite the experience.”

“Um . . . no,” Peter managed to get out. “None of you really got to see them. It was all just pretty–rushed.”

The synthezoid frowned. “I see.”

“From what we do know about the multiverse,” Loki cut in, “the differences can vary ridiculously. For all we know, it’s lucky your alternates showed up as human at all, rather than a pig or something.”

Peter blinked; he hadn’t thought about that. It had been awkward and frustrating  enough as Peters 2 and 3 tried to reassure him after May’s death, he didn’t want to imagine how it would have felt if one of those Spidermen was actually a pig. Would it even speak English?

Natasha just smirked. “Who knows–maybe there’s a world out there where you actually are a spider man.”

/*/*/*/*/

“Whatcha working on?”

Peter jumped, hurriedly shutting down the holoscreen; he’d been too much in the zone to sense Peter 599’s arrival into the lab, and hoped his reaction just made him look startled and nervous instead of suspicious.

“Tony’s still in his meeting, but FRIDAY said you were down here, so I figured I’d come down and wait with you for Tony to finish.”

“Okay.” Peter forced a smile onto his face. “Do you know how much longer the meeting is for?”

Peter 599 shook his head, just as FRIDAY spoke up that “ Boss’s meeting should be wrapping up within fifteen minutes.”

The younger boy put his backpack on the floor, going over to the snack stash Tony kept for him. “So, what were you working on?”

Peter faltered for a moment; before today, he’d just been working on the design for his new suit and brainstorming names at night, always asking FRIDAY first to make sure Tony wasn’t down there. Today, though, with how many meetings FRIDAY said Tony would be stuck in all day, Peter had been hopeful that he could get in some daylight work hours, and had been down here since his conversation with Natasha, Loki and Vision. He should have kept a better track of the time so that he’d know when his alternate would return from school.

“Just exploring some of this world’s tech,” he said. “Comparing it to mine, seeing if there’s anything new. Getting acquainted with it all.”

Peter 599 frowned the smallest bit, before a smile took over his face again. He came back over to the workstation Peter had claimed for the day, tossing him a protein bar and a water bottle. Peter caught them without thinking, before his stomach growled right on cue; it had been a bit too long since he’d eaten.

“Have you thought any more about when we’ll talk to Tony about Midtown? I’m not sure how we’ll work out your identity here, but whatever we decide I’m sure he’ll be able to get the documents drawn up for it really quickly.”

“I-I do want to talk about that with him soon,” it was almost a challenge just to get the words out, to start to admit how much he wanted the chance to go back to Midtown. “But first, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about, if it’s okay?”

“Sure!” Peter 599 shoved half of his own protein bar into his mouth. “What’s up?”

Peter had thought carefully of how to phrase it; he still wasn’t ready to admit he hadn’t been the one to use the stones in his own world, leading to his Tony’s death and so much more death and destruction. 

“In my world–” he licked his lips, not looking up from the desk. “I was talking with Vision, Natasha and Loki earlier? It just kinda hit me that in my world they didn’t–I mean, they didn’t Blip, they died. And they didn’t . . . come back.”

Peter 599 frowned. “Huh. That’s interesting.”

“I know you probably know about as much about the infinity stones as I do, but I was hoping you might know–why?”

His alternate thought for a few moments, shoving down the rest of his protein bar, before shrugging. “I’m not sure. Without knowing how the stones were used specifically in your world, it’s kinda hard to guess.” He paused, glancing down at his hands. “I can try to describe what I was thinking when I did it, though?”

Peter nodded, a bit too fast. “I, uh, I’d appreciate that–if you’re okay with talking about it, of course.” He was mainly just relieved that the other boy hadn’t asked to hear Peter’s thoughts while using the stones.

“It’s not that bad,” he reassured him. “I’ve had a lot of time to get used to telling the story. For one thing, you were right to imply that I didn't know much about how the stones worked. From what I’d been told, they mostly just seemed like all-powerful space rocks that, when put together, could do literally anything you wanted. So I kinda just worked off that? When I got the stones, I just tried to think please bring back everyone who died fighting Thanos, and get rid of his entire army, and I kinda blacked out from the pain before I could see if it fully worked, but obviously it did.”

“That was it?”

He shrugged. “I guess?”

But that was so . . . easy. In theory, at least. The physical part of using the stones and facing their effects was harder, of course, but if it really was that simple of just thinking what you wanted to happen, then why didn’t Tony do it in his own world?

“I’m guessing that doesn’t really answer your question?”

Peter looked over; Peter 599 looked a bit stricken at not being able to give a satisfying answer. 

“No, it’s helpful,” Peter assured him. “Thank you. It gives me a lot more to work with.”

“No problem. Hey,” Peter 599 glanced down at his wristwatch. “It’s been more than fifteen minutes. Hopefully Tony will be down soon, he showed me this concept they were working on in R&D a few days ago I was hoping to get back to working on.”

“Boss got caught up with Mini Boss,” FRIDAY informed them, “but he is now on his way to the lab with her. ”

Peter tensed, not sure if he was more nervous about Tony catching him in the lab, or about having to try and talk to Morgan again.

The latter, at least, proves a moot worry. She quickly lets go of her dad’s hand, running over to the Peters. It only takes a quick but critical look between them for her to beam and run over to Peter 599, holding her arms out to be picked up and giggling as he spun her. 

Just as quickly, she wiggled out of his grip, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the other side of the lab to “show you a trick I taught DUM-E yesterday!”

As awkward as it was to watch Tony’s daughter happily play with the better version of himself, it was better than looking at Tony, who he’d told only days before that he wasn’t comfortable in the lab.

“She really was teaching him for over an hour after dinner,” Tony affirmed. “I think she’s trying to prove to me that she’s ready for a puppy.”

Peter couldn’t help a small smile, grateful that the man didn’t ask why Peter was  in the lab to begin with. “Could I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“I just–” like with Peter 599 earlier, he wanted to be careful of how he worded the question. “Right after the-the final battle with Thanos, I overheard Mr. Rogers and Mr. Lang talking; they mentioned how against the idea you were of time travel at first.”

“Not a question, but yes. I was.”

“Why?”

Tony heaved a sigh, only slightly exaggerated, before gesturing behind them. Peter turned around, but the only things that could sway Tony’s decision making behind them were Morgan and Peter 599–and Peter wasn’t around when Tony had to worry about time travel. 

“Morgan,” Peter murmured.

“Morgan,” he confirmed. “The first thing to know about time travel, Sixer, is that it’s just about as problematic as the multiverse. If we did one thing wrong, even slightly, then it could screw up the whole universe. It could have screwed up my universe, even more than it had already been messed with. 

“When I did agree to work with the ‘ time heist’ plan, I was adamant that only those lost in the Blip, only those that left unnaturally, would be brought back.” He was still staring at her as she made a spinning motion with her hand, DUM-E following the directive. “Couldn’t risk anything else.”

Peter was silent, unsure of how to respond. Tony Stark didn’t often get that serious, but he had never heard him more earnest than when talking about his family.

Peter hadn’t heard of Morgan before the funeral. When he Blipped back, he could barely grasp that five years had passed; he would have had no reason to be wary of messing with time, if he had been the one to use the stones. Would have had no reason not to bring everyone back that they had lost.

Vision and Natasha lived in the Tower, and Loki visited occasionally. How many more people were brought back by Peter 599’s impulsive, powerful thoughts? And how many people had those like Natasha and Vision been able to save, in turn?

Peter always knew that he had put his world in danger, from Mysterio to the villains of Peters 2 and 3’s worlds. He just hadn’t realized how much more he had ruined it through this single inaction.

Chapter Text

Tony was in his bedroom, but FRIDAY assured Peter–five times–that the man was perfectly okay with being interrupted. 

Apparently the AI had even asked her herself to confirm that he was okay, saying that Peter had something to ask him.

Snitch.

Still, Peter had been hyping himself up for longer than the last time he’d had to make a phone call with a stranger. He’d barely been comfortable with bothering his own Tony by the time he’d Blipped away; interrupting this one was so much worse. But if Peter didn’t ask soon, he knew Peter 599 would just keep bringing it up, eventually with Tony there.

The other boy had gotten a ride back to his apartment with May after dinner; Peter hadn’t needed an enhanced vision to read his alternate’s lips as he mouthed ask him about Midtown! over his shoulder.

Swiping his sweaty palms down his shirt one more time, he knocked on the door before he could lose his nerve. Almost immediately a shouted “come on in!” invited him inside.

Still, Peter cautiously opened the door, poking his head in as if Tony would suddenly change his mind and order him out. 

Rather than trying to work at his computer or anything else Peter had been prepared for, Tony was on the floor, sitting next to Morgan and getting his nails painted. As soon as she saw him, Morgan started hurrying to put the nail polish away, blowing comically hard on her dad’s nails.

“Oh, you don’t–I didn’t mean to interrupt, you don’t have to stop.”

“It’s no problem, Pete,” Tony assured, fanning his other hand in the air. “We both know how bad the smell of nail polish can bother your nose before it’s dried. How about we talk in your room, where the smell won’t be as bad?”

“But Daddy–” Morgan stood, taking her dad’s hand and being careful to not mess up the still-damp polish. “I was almost done, and you promised I could do your toes after!”

“It won’t take too long, princess,” Tony promised. “We’ll be back before you know it, and when I come back the polish will have dried enough that you can add the sparkly layer to the dried nails.”

“Yeah,” Peter added, “We’ll be fast. I just need to-to ask Tony something real quick.”

Morgan’s expression was still a bit pouty, but she nodded her understanding, starting to turn the nail polish on herself instead while she waited.

“Alright.” Tony sat down in the armchair in Peter’s room once the door was closed, his hands–whose nails still did smell uncomfortably of polish– “hit me with it.”

“Peter and I have been talking about–I mean, Peter 599–” idiot, you’re the only other Peter here, what other Peter would you be referring to? He took a deep breath and tried to get his thoughts in order, as if he hadn’t practiced this speech five times before knocking on the door. 

“Peter and I were talking about the possibility of me possibly getting enrolled at Midtown with him? I never technically finished highschool in my world because of– complications, and would like to, um, do that. It would also give me the chance to get to know the Ned and MJ of this world, which would be–would be nice.”

Tony faltered, and Peter shrank a bit, worried he was asking too much. Was it too soon for them to start worrying about making a legal identity for him here? Was Tony worried that Peter would give away the multiverse secret to 599’s friends? 

The man recovered quickly enough, though, giving him a hesitant smile. “Of course. We’ll start talking about the logistics first thing in the morning, okay? We’ll work it all out, but for now I don’t plan on invoking Morgan’s wrath if she doesn’t get to paint my toenails.”

Peter nodded gratefully, slumping over in relief once Tony left. 

There. That hadn’t been so hard, had it?

/*/*/*/*/

Because that wasn’t the hard part.

Tony had stayed true to his word; he called everyone available to the main Avengers’ debriefing room at eight the next morning. Peter couldn’t help but sink down in his seat a bit, not ready for all the attention surrounding him. 

Not everyone was there–Natasha, Rhodey, Vision and Wanda had been called away for a SHIELD mission the previous evening, Loki had ignored the summons, and Pepper was in a meeting. Still, that left a considerable amount of the team discussing Peter’s future in their world.

“I don’t see why all of us need to be here,” Sam grumbled, wrapped up in a burrito-patterned blanket. 

“Even if you’re not contributing to the discussion,” Tony raised a brow at the bird, “We should all be on the same page about what’s happening. FRIDAY will send a message to those unlucky enough to not present after the meeting.”

There was a bit more grumbling, but for the most part Sam just hunkered down in his blanket a bit more as he leaned forward.

“If there are no more protests,” Tony continued, “then let’s get some more ideas out there. Who is Peter 616? Chop chop, guys, we don’t have all day for this.”

Like when they were deciding how to differentiate the two Peters’ names, the Avengers did a good job of trying to get Peter involved. Peter, unfortunately, wasn’t doing a very good job of involving himself, especially since his only real suggestion–that he could just get his own apartment and they could create some documents for a fake guardian–was swiftly shut down.

“Hey,” Tony cut off Steve’s suggestion that they stage Peter as Tony’s second intern. “Here’s an idea–what if he was mine?”

Peter sat up a bit more, staring at the man, his confused expression mirrored on everyone else.

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked. 

“Exactly that–what if we told everyone he was mine? Everyone knows what I was like in my twenties, people have been waiting for a secret Stark kid to show up for years.”

Peter’s jaw dropped. Tony was proposing they pretend he was Tony’s . . . biological son?

“Think about it: we forge a paternity test, make a new first name so that it’s not weird when he goes to Midtown with Peter 599, and that’s about it. Obviously we don’t tell the press at first–that’s just what we say if the reporters catch us in public together, or figures out he lives at the Tower.”

“Now hang on,” Clint spoke up. “I thought one of our goals with Sixer here was that we don’t draw attention to him? Low profile and all that?”

“Of course that’s still the goal,” Tony waved the question away. “We wouldn’t advertise that he’s mine on a billboard, it’s just for when people ask–because they will. We’ll hope the media storm doesn’t come, but prepare for when it does, and deal with it quickly.”

Peter cleared his throat, raising his hand timidly from the table. Even if he was fully comfortable with this idea, there was still one problem–well, more than one, but he was trying to take this one step at a time.

“What about Midtown? When they ask for, like, my emergency contact information and stuff?”

“We could tell the school, surely,” Thor spoke up. “So long as they take a vow of silence on the matter.”

“Mm. That leaves a lot of room for human error; it’s probably our best option, though. We can keep thinking about it as we start drafting the documents.”

“I feel like we’re forgetting something important here,” Sam said, his serious tone contradicting the blanket still pulled up to his ears. “You already have a child, and a wife. And I’m sure they’d like to be informed about this plan before too many documents get drafted.”

Peter couldn’t see Tony’s eyes behind his sunglasses, but he could see the rest of his face, which had gone a light pink, as if he genuinely hadn’t thought of that before now. “Of course I’m telling them once they get home. I’m offended, Wilson.” He turned to Peter. “How about it, kid?”

Peter licked his lips, once again not enjoying the feeling of so many eyes on him. “Well. It sounds . . . complicated.”

“On brand for us.”

“And I definitely don’t want to, like, intrude in your family with Pepper and Morgan.”

“Kid. You already live here and hang out with us nearly every day; I can almost guarantee nothing will change inside the Tower. If the media were to get ahold of the cover story, it might change how some things are outside these walls, but it will be the same for us here.”

“What if someone asks for a live paternity test or something?”

“Well, that sounds like a problem for Bruce and his seven Phds. One of them has to work for that.” Tony leaned forward. “Kid–let us worry about how it will work. Do you want it to work? Are you okay with people seeing you like that, if word got out?”

Was he? When he was little, Peter used to dream of being part of Iron Man’s family, part of Tony Stark’s family . By the time he’d Blipped, he knew they weren’t quite there yet, but he’d hoped that they might get there, someday. A someday that never got to come.

It wouldn’t be real, he told himself. Tony said it himself, this would just be their Plan B, their cover story. This Tony already had Morgan, and Pepper, and Peter 599, he didn’t need another. This was just convenient. Complicated, yes, but probably one of the most convenient solutions to this mess of his identity here.

He’d be able to go to school, to see everyone and start to live a life again. That was worth it, no matter the complications. It had to be.

So he nodded, trying to project more confidence than he felt. “Yeah. That plan is good with me.”

“Well, then,” Tony mimed slamming down a gavel. “I’m sure we’re all happy to know that this meeting is officially adjourned.”

/*/*/*/*/

Peter flopped down onto his bed. From his room, he didn’t even need to exercise his enhanced hearing to make out May’s humming as she put the large, store-bought lasagna into the oven.

His day had been long, but productive. He and Ned had finished the lab in chemistry first, and Gwen had giddily shared at lunch that she’d finished her application for Oxford. However, some new edits of Peter 616 in his Spiderman suit from his first days in this world had been posted onto YouTube, and Ned had swooped back onto the scene like a vulture.

“I’m telling you, Ned, I really don’t know who he is. And that’s still just new edits of the old footage, it’s not like he’s still patrolling.”

For now, came the unbidden reminder. Tony had mentioned while they were texting yesterday that he’d brought up making a new suit to Peter 616, one with more durability and protection than the one he’d brought from his world. Peter had no idea how long the design and production process would take, but one thing was for certain; he wouldn’t be able to fend off questions about a second Spiderman from Ned for long.

“But Mr. Stark probably knows!” Ned borderline shouted. Peter held the phone a bit farther from his ear. “He figured out your identity, that means he can figure out this guy’s too!”

Peter groaned internally. “I don’t–probably, you’re probably right. All I know is that Tony hasn’t said anything about the guy yet.”

“You’ll let me know once he does, though, right? Will I get to meet him? That’d be so cool. Do you think you guys got bit by the same spider or something? Your powers are so similar in the videos.”

“No, I don’t think we were bitten by the same spider.” Not technically, at least. That much, Peter could say truthfully. He deliberately didn’t answer the other questions; if things went according to plan, Ned would never meet the real man under the second Spiderman mask, only able to see him under the SHIELD mask when Peter 616 eventually got to come to Midtown. He hoped his alternate had finally asked about it.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t say whether or not I could meet him. I’ll just have to convince him myself when he starts patrolling again; I could be his guy in the chair, too! Double duty. The official Guy in the Chair for Spiderman and all his associates.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “You never know. He might want to meet you.” It was clear enough how eager Peter 616 was to see Ned at school, though he wasn’t sure if the other Peter would allow Ned to talk to him under the mask, just in case.

“That’s right, focus on the positives. Well, I should go, Lola just called that dinner’s almost ready, and I gotta go help set the table. See you tomorrow!”

Peter wished him a good night before hanging up, letting out a little sigh.

He hated keeping such big secrets from his best friend. As much as it had stressed him out when Ned learned about Spiderman, in a way it was also such a big relief. For months he’d nearly slipped up and said it while they’d be hanging out; especially at the beginning, a knot of guilt had tangled up in his gut every time Ned asked why he couldn’t come over as often after school, or why Peter was suddenly so much more exhausted in class.

To this day, he’d almost told Gwen and MJ on purpose more than once. It’d be so much easier if they knew, but Peter knew that the more people that knew his identity, the more people that were in danger because of it. Ned, May and Tony had been accidents; the rest of the Avengers were the only ones he’d told mostly on purpose about his identity, but they were different. After all, if the Avengers couldn’t protect themselves, then who could?

Peter 616 wasn’t his secret to tell, though. 

He pulled himself off the bed and over to his desk, pulling his laptop from his backpack. English was by no means his favorite subject, but he might as well get started on next week’s essay–even if “getting started” just meant opening the Google Doc and putting it into Times New Roman font.

The universe decided to help him procrastinate, though, because a moment later a phone call buzzed from his phone; he smiled when he saw the caller.

“Hi, Tony!” 

“Hey there, Underoos. How was school?”

Peter’s smile only grew, and he launched into his story about chemistry, and Gwen’s application. He was glad that, even with all the changes lately, Tony still made sure to text or call Peter each evening that Peter didn’t come to the tower, that Peter still got plenty of time with his mentor even though there were now more Peters than Tonys.

“How was your day?” He asked at the end of his ramble, crossing his fingers that Peter 616 might have asked.

“Well, last night before Morgan’s bedtime your not-so-evil doppelganger asked me about the possibilities of him finishing out the school year with you.”

Yes!

“Kinda hard to do when he doesn’t exist in this world, yet, though, so we had to figure that out first. We gathered this morning and talked it through, made a plan.” He took a deep breath, and Peter could hear Pepper and Morgan in the background. Peter bounced his leg in anticipation, excited to hear what they’d decided.

“It’s kinda–complicated, to say the least. Just wanted to make sure I told you the plan before we go too much farther with it, okay?”

Peter nodded excitedly. “Okay.”

His smile, however, slowly slipped the more Tony recounted that morning’s discussion. The plan was for Peter 616 to pose as Tony’s . . . son?

Peter had promised himself that he wouldn’t get jealous of his counterpart, that there was no reason to. Even now, Tony was saying the same thing; reassuring him that nothing would change between him and either of the Peters, that they weren’t even telling people unless there wasn’t another option. 

Still, the thought of if it was the only option . . . the image of a press announcement filled Peter’s head, Tony publicly calling the other Peter his son . . . it shouldn’t make him feel uncomfortable, he knew. He should be happy for Peter 616–the guy had lost a lot, and this security in being able to have his own identity here was a good thing. 

There was still no reason to be jealous, he firmly reminded himself. After all, it wasn’t like Peter was really Tony’s son, even if Morgan did still know Peter as her big brother. 

“Um, I think I need to go,” Peter cut in when Tony took a breath. “I think the smoke alarm is about to go off. I’ll see you after school tomorrow?”

“Oh–yeah, kiddo. Goodnight.”

Peter set the phone down, turning back to his computer and moving the mouse to bring the screen back. Managed to 96% convince himself that the residual discomfort in his gut was from the thought of actually starting his English essay.

He startled at a knock at the door, May poking her head in a moment later. “I just need to toss the salad, the lasagna’s cooling on the stove. Would you mind setting the table?”

“Sure.” He gratefully shut down his computer, but May frowned when he stood.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he rushed to assure her. “Tony was just telling me about a meeting from this morning. They started figuring out Peter 616’s identity for this world, so that he can start attending Midtown with me soon.”

May’s face transformed, lighting up. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I’ve been worried about that boy. We should have him over for dinner, I’d like to hear more about him. He was pretty quiet that first night.”

Peter smiled in return. “Don’t worry, I let him know we’d be happy to have him over. And I can remind him when I see him tomorrow.”

He let that be it, not wanting May to worry about his conflicting feelings regarding what they’d figured for his alternate’s identity. There was time later to sort those out. Now, he had a reasonably-crispy lasagna and reasonably-not-crispy salad to eat with his aunt.

Chapter Text

No matter what rumors were told about him during his playboy years, Tony has never cheated on a woman. He can barely keep one woman happy with him for more than a night, why would he try and manage two at once? Tony is many things, but a multitasker is not one–much less a cheater. Trying to divide his attention between multiple people that rely on him so heavily sounded exhausting.

Tony shook his head, taking another drink of coffee. Oh, the irony.

After the kid’s disastrous homecoming night–and again after the Blip–Tony had worked hard to solidify his relationship with Peter 599 into something that the kid could rely on, both physically and emotionally. Worked to be able to hold an emotional conversation, to be there for whatever Peter needed. 

He’d gotten a lot of practice in the emotional vulnerability part, the previous five years. Morgan had always worn her heart on her sleeve, and expected her father to too, as much as he could. With how many stories he’d told her of Peter Parker and Spiderman, she was overjoyed to finally meet her big brother, even if the first time she saw him was as he lay pale in a hospital bed.

With how much Morgan adored Peter, it was just so easy to integrate their schedules together. Peter started coming over more, and the tabloids finally dug into Tony’s teenage intern employee after spotting the three of them at a nearby park.

Their new addition did not integrate so easily, though.

Peter 616, or Benjamin Stark, as his newly created birth certificate read–because he wanted it to relate to the boy’s true identity, but having two Peters in the kids’ friend group might be too complicated–needed Tony’s attention, as much as the kid didn’t want to ask for it. Whether Tony’s theory was correct or not about how Earth 616’s Tony Stark died, the matter remained that that Stark hadn’t been able to be there for Peter for a while now, along with the kid’s family and friends. 

For whatever reason, though, he and Morgan didn’t seem to be clicking as much as she and Peter 599 did. Tony’d tried to create a couple more opportunities for them to get used to each other, but the results weren’t promising yet.

When he asked Peter 616 about it, he just blushed and apologized, and Morgan didn’t always know how to put her big feelings into words. 

Pepper had sighed in disapproval when she’d come home and heard the plan that evening–not exactly of the objective, but that a certain someone hadn’t been consulted at all or told earlier.

At her urging, he’d called Peter 599 as soon as he could. And it was fine, the kid was okay with the plan!

At least, you know, Tony was pretty sure he was. 

His eyes burning, he finally closed down the holoscreens with Peter 616’s new birth certificate and social security cards, with a reminder set to print them tomorrow. This plan was the best they had, no matter the fact that no one seemed truly satisfied with it. Pleasing all three of his kids was proving to be impossible.

Tony tensed. Not quite his kids, of course. Peter 599 and him were close, of course, but there was no reason to assume that the kid saw him like that, officially. And Peter 616 . . . well, even if the kid and his Tony had had that sort of dynamic, Tony wouldn’t assume the title would pass on to him just because he had the same face.

He glanced at the clock and groaned; to think, his sleep schedule had been improving. Far later than he should have, he pulled himself out of his spinny work chair and rubbed his eyes as he started to head out–just in time to see a startled head of brown hair duck behind a wall.

Right. Peter 616’s little nighttime work sessions were still going on. Should he say something? Go out there and have a heart-to-heart with the kid and confront why the kid hadn’t told Tony about going into the lab at night?

He ultimately sighed and shook his head. He and Peter were too similar in that way; one a.m might have been prime work-time hours if sleep wasn’t cooperating, but having an emotional conversation? Neither of them were awake enough for that.

Besides, a quick ask to FRIDAY told him that the kid had retreated back away from the lab anyways, and was now back towards the elevator. There would be time to have the conversation later, Tony reminded himself. He’d get to the bottom of what was going through the kid’s head.

In the  meantime, though, he had very little qualms about taking a peek at the soon-to-be new Spiderman’s future suit.

It wasn’t an entirely new suit, he was unsurprised to find, but rather a bit of an amalgamation of all his suits, with a few extra tweaks and additions. The subtle spiderwebs lining the suit were now more silvery, and slightly 3D, and the eyepieces were wider. Like his Iron Spider suit, the front was lined with a large spider, the legs curving around the sides and shoulders, except that this one was fully gold. The biggest change was a kevlar hood, a deep blue with gold and black highlights. 

Many of the abilities had been kept the same, though a majority hadn’t been added yet; by the marks on Peter 616’s notes, it seemed he was having trouble figuring out how to add them. He had added two big changes, though: instead of the spider legs that could protrude from the back, the feature had been replaced with a huge, deployable shield that was both fire and bulletproof; in addition, space that was currently dedicated to storing the mechanisms for some of his web-shooting combinations had been replaced with as much emergency medical supplies that could fit there.

Tony swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. He’d always designed Spiderman’s suits with as much protection as possible, but Peter 616 had truly gone the extra mile, doing whatever it took to make his best offense a good defense. He’d sacrificed weapons for a shield and medical supplies. A very Peter thing to do, in any universe, it seemed. 

He sighed. “I need to talk to him about this, don’t I?”

“By ‘this,’ I assume you mean the new Peter still not admitting to working in your lab?”

Tony shrugged, the reason far more complicated than that. “I should be helping him with this; it would get done faster, and he could go back to patrolling. Goodness knows the kid is probably going crazy not being able to flip between skyscrapers right now.”

And the more ways he had to differentiate the manners and personalities of his two identical spiders, the better. What better way to do that than to see the small differences in how 616 worked in the lab?

His jaw nearly cracked with the force of a yawn. Tomorrow. 

/*/*/*/*/

Peter ran his fingers over the fabric, now whole again. He could barely see the spot where the suit had been cut, the patch as good as new. He knew he’d probably never wear the suit again, but he liked to see it back the way it was supposed to be. 

Satisfied, he rubbed the sleep away from his eyes one last time. After giving up on waiting for Tony to leave the lab, he had tried to fall asleep again, ultimately giving up on that endeavor, too. Finally, though, at least the extra few hours had allowed him to finish fixing his old suit.

He liked the look of the suit he was designing in Tony’s lab, he really did. But this suit . . . this was one thing that he’d made all by himself, no fancy tech or supplies or billionaire genius. It was budget but still looked sleek and dynamic, and Peter was proud of it. 

How long would he be able to keep up his routine of working on the suit in secret? Even if he was able to keep Tony from finding out until he finished, the man would have plenty of questions when Peter debuted in the new suit. One way or another, he’d have to answer for all the sneaking around.

For now, he hung the mended suit in the closet, glancing back at the sewing machine. He’d only ever used it for Spiderman, but maybe he’d be able to get more into it? The process of measuring and connecting the pieces was interesting, after all.

He was pulled out of the thought just in time to see a notification text pop up on his phone, and he blinked in surprise. He’d barely communicated with the new phone–nearly everyone that knew of him here already lived in the tower. By that logic, though, there was only one person it could really be.

599: Hey sorry it’s kinda last minute, but what are ur plans today? May has a day off and was hoping ud come over for lunch at about 12?

Peter swallowed. Maybe he should have seen this coming; Peter 599 had mentioned recently that May would probably want to see him over again soon. 

The thought of going back to Midtown was awkward and scary, yes, but seeing May . . . he’d hurt MJ and Ned a lot, but he’d never gotten them killed. 

This was fine, though. It’d be just like watching her on her lunch break–which he seriously needed to stop doing–except this time she would know he was there.

After starting the reply a few different times, he sent back a simple agreement. Lunchtime. That gave him all morning to mentally prepare himself for the event.

Pepper was at the stove when he came out for breakfast, deftly flipping a pancake over. She turned and smiled tiredly at him as the batter sizzled. It might have been the first time he’d seen Pepper Potts-Stark in pajamas, a loose flannel set whose sleeves were folded up as she worked.

“Good morning, Peter. Hungry for anything specific?”

He shrugged, pulling a banana off the bunch in the fruit bowl. “Nothing specific.”

“That’s fine; I’ll add some more pancake batter in.” She flipped the pancake back over, checking that it was cooked to her liking before scooping it onto a plate where two other finished ones sat. “One second–Morgan, come grab your plate!”

The little girl immediately came running from the living room, giving her mom a quick hug as she accepted the plate with both hands. 

She didn’t say hi to Peter.

He would have brushed it off as her being hungry and excited for the pancakes, if he hadn’t caught the involuntary glance she shot his way before tearing her gaze away and going over to eat by the coffee table. 

Pepper didn’t miss it, either, as he should have expected. She winced apologetically as she poured the next pancake onto the pan. 

“She’s still getting used to the idea of all this. She’ll relax soon, don’t worry.” 

Peter smiled tightly and nodded, avoiding her eyes by looking intently at his banana instead. It wasn’t like he could blame Morgan for feeling awkward around him, or not approving of him taking on the name Stark if the need arose. 

He helped set the table for the two of them as Pepper finished breakfast–when he asked, she said Tony would almost never be awake this early on a Saturday–and soon got to dig into pancakes of his own. 

“So,” Pepper started. “I haven’t gotten to see you too much since you’ve joined us, Peter. Tell me about yourself.”

Peter blinked, shrugging. “Well–I mean, you already know the gist . . .” 

“I suppose, but from what I’ve heard, you’re also pretty different from the Peter I’ve gotten to know the last few years. I’d like to know you .”

Peter hesitated, shoving a large bite into his mouth to give himself time to think. There were differences between him and Peter 599, surely, but he didn’t know how to voice any of them without giving up all of the secrets he was trying to keep from these people. Oh, well, I didn’t use the stones in my world, which is why your husband is dead in that world and your child is fatherless. I also don’t know how to balance my superhero and Peter Parker identities, almost leading ultimately to the destruction of my world, if not more.

“I–well, I’ve started getting into photography recently? Uncle Ben had a camera he sometimes let me use when I was younger, so when I needed some extra cash I started selling some photos of my own.”

Pepper nodded with genuine interest, a spark of surprise in her eyes; Peter assumed that meant Peter 599 hadn’t taken up commercial photography yet, which made sense, as Peter himself had only started getting semi-serious about it when he needed to make rent each month.

“What kind of pictures do you sell?”

And so he began the slightly embarrassing story of selling pictures of himself under the mask to possibly the man who hated him the most in the world. 

Probably because she didn’t have all the context of the particular hatred between Peter and J. Jonah Jameson on Earth 616, she found the situation more funny than depressing. Though it turned out Spiderman wasn’t safe from Jameson in this world, either.

“There’s probably a new hate article about Spiderman at least once a week. The Avengers get outraged by it; they offered to threaten Jameson, but Peter convinced them to let it go. I swear Natasha still has a dart board with the reporter’s face on it somewhere, though.”

Peter might have managed to laugh himself at the comment, except that his MJ had set up a dartboard of her own only a few weeks into senior year; the one time he tried to suggest taking it down, MJ had retorted that it was either Jameson’s picture got stabbed or the real thing did, and she was pretty sure Peter preferred this method. 

And in went another huge bite, though not quite big enough to swallow away the image of MJ’s face as she’d hit the reporter in the face moments later. 

He quickly learned through the conversation that, besides the universal differences, he didn’t know Peter 599 enough to comment on many potential differences between them. He did mention the absence of Gwen in his world, since her friendship–and attraction–with her was as big of a part of Peter 599’s life as his friendships with Ned and MJ. 

Almost as soon as they were done cleaning up did Tony stumble, bleary-eyed, from the bedroom, Morgan lighting up and greeting him as he passed through the living room. He waved off an offer of food, citing that for now he just needed as much coffee as was in the pot to get him going. 

When he had finished his second mug–now looking remarkably more human–Peter cleared his throat.  

“So this morning, Peter 599 texted to ask if I, um, might want to come over to their apartment for lunch at 12:30?”

The effect was like a third mug of coffee; Tony brightened, patting Peter on the shoulder. “That’s great! I’m not surprised, May’s been texting me about you for the last couple days.”

“She–has?”

“Of course. Multiversal alternate of her nephew with a tragic backstory? May Parker’s barely been able to hold herself back, wanting to let you get settled in first.”

“O-oh.”

“Yeah. Find me once you’re ready, and I’ll drive you.”

Peter nodded, thanking Pepper again for breakfast before going back to his room. The next twenty minutes consisted of a Disney Channel-worthy montage of him trying on different outfits, wanting to make a good impression on the woman that both was and wasn’t his aunt. He didn’t have many clothes left from when he still lived with May, but still the thought of somehow showing up in the same outfit as his alternate was mortifying.

After smoothing down a sweater and pulling the button-down’s collar out from under it, Peter–somewhat in vain–tried to tame his unruly curls in the ensuite bathroom, running wetted hands through the strands, and occasionally getting distracted by the softness; it was a new but relieving feeling to have it clean all the time now, without having to gamble on if his water was working or clean. 

Just before 11:45, he met Tony in the garage, hands twisting nervously at the hem of his sweater as they chose a car and started the drive.

Peter should have been listening–from the little he caught, Tony was saying something about a birth certificate, which was probably important–but the thoughts in his head were far too loud to try to multitask. 

He liked that the Avengers seemed to get along with him, seemed to be acclimating well to his presence. He was hopeful that Ned and MJ would befriend him here, too–and curious about this new Gwen Stacy. He was beyond relieved and grateful for all that Tony and Pepper were doing for him, for all that the man was welcoming him into his home. 

May, though? If there was one person he wouldn’t be able to handle disapproving of him being there, it was his aunt. The woman that held no blood relation to him but had loved him as her own since the moment he first visited, who rolled with every punch he presented her with until she couldn’t anymore. 

Before she’d even known what was happening, she’d welcomed him into her home in this world. He didn’t know what he’d do if she came to regret him being there.

“Kiddo? We’re here.”

Peter knew that, of course, staring up at the apartment building as his heartbeat pounded in his ears. All that was left to do was go up to their floor.

He swallowed, nodding. They’d forgone the disguise with how little he’d be out in public before getting to the apartment, but Peter would have liked to hide his apprehension at that moment.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Tony slid his sunglasses down his nose. “You’ve got your phone on you right? I’ll stay in the area, you can call me once you’re ready.”

All Peter could do was nod and give another thank you, already turning, taking one last deep breath before pressing the buzzer.

/*/*/*/*/

Peter currently beat Peter 599 in the spidersense category, but he’d learned that the Earth 599 native outclassed him in their sensory enhancements. His senses were more focused and acute, allowing him to more easily hone in on one thing from farther away.

When Peter had imagined entering the Parkers’ apartment here, he’d imagined standing outside the door for a few minutes, wiping sweaty palms on his jeans or rehearsing how he’d say hello. He hadn’t been ready for Peter 599 to open the door as soon as he got there, smiling and waving him inside as he rambled something about hearing Peter walking up the stairs and muttering to himself.

He did his best to nod along to what Peter 599 was saying, while simultaneously taking in the apartment. It was the same as the first time he’d come here to eat, and yet he couldn’t stop staring. It was the same apartment number, the furniture layout mostly the same. The same old green couch Ben and May had gotten at an antique store, the same bookshelves full of knickknacks and photographs by the TV. 

Two lamps were on, one in the kitchen and one in the dining room. After the spider bite, Peter had made an excuse to May about why the bright overhead lights suddenly gave him such a bad headache, and she had easily switched to just using the dimmer lamps. It made sense that the same had occurred here, yet the memory still made Peter’s chest tighten.

He zoned back in just in time to hear Peter 599 reassuring him that he had helped cook and, while it wasn’t perfect, Peter wouldn’t have a reason to have to pretend to like it, either.

“Well, I should hope not,” May teased, swatting her nephew with a dish towel. She was wearing her glasses, the lenses still slightly fogged with steam, presumably from the oven. She beamed as she turned to Peter, not hesitating to pull him into a quick hug. “I am so happy you could make it. I can’t believe it took us this long to invite you over!”

Peter cleared his throat, chuckling and trying to act like he wasn’t staring. “It’s okay, really. Stuff’s been busy at the tower, anyways, as I get settled in. I was grateful to get the invitation.”

May’s smile didn’t grow, instead dipping into something warmer, and more familial. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything Peter stepped away from her arms and towards the table.

“The food smells great. Did you get the chicken from that local grocer on 42nd?”

And for a while, the conversation was able to stay in the safe territory of lunch, the weekend farmer’s market May almost never had time to visit but had finally stopped at that morning, a mess Peter 599 had made while trying to cut a tomato. Peter let himself listen to the conversation, occasionally asking a question or adding a comment. If he didn’t let his eyes stray too far to the right, he could almost convince himself that it was just him and May again, laughing and joking like normal.

Soon, though, the topic turned more to Peter 599’s week at school. Specifically, the most not- normal thing about it: Gwen Stacy.

May quickly swallowed the bite of pasta salad when her nephew mentioned Gwen’s name. “You said she’d finished her Oxford application, right? What college did she decide on?”

When Peter 599 smiled and started to speak with a note of pride in his voice, Peter wondered if May was also aware of the crush. 

“She’s hoping to get accepted into St. Catherine’s College, apparently it has a really great biology track. She’s really nervous, but the rest of us know that she’ll get in.” His face dimmed. “I just hope I’ll be able to visit sometimes.”

May smiled sympathetically, and Peter made no comment. A trip to the UK wasn’t exactly in the Parkers’ budget, though for this girl Peter expected they’d put any pride aside and end up asking Tony for help. 

“Could you tell me a bit more about Gwen?” He asked. He’d looked into her a lot–both online and in person–but wanted the first-hand account. “How you met, her interests–stuff like that? I’m just curious since I don’t, you know, know a Gwen in my world?”

“Oh, sure!” Peter 599 both lit up and blushed at the chance to talk about Gwen Stacy. “Well, it’s hard to picture the exact moment we met in middle school–because I’d seen her in a couple of classes before then and in the hallways and stuff–but I think the first moment we actually started talking to each other was at lunch one day. Some kids had been making fun of me in gym class that morning, so I was eating in the science classroom, when she came in to work on an extra credit project. I ended up forgetting about eating after offering to help her . . .”

After they finished, Peter 599 offered to go grab some of his pictures of him and his friends; though he was sure it would just end in him missing his own versions more, Peter agreed. 

May politely shooed him out of the kitchen after all the dishes were brought in, citing that “their guest shouldn’t have to load the dishwasher.” Not wanting to push, Peter just nodded, thanking her for lunch again and retreating back to the living room.

So much was the same as the living room he remembered that the little differences were stark. A different fleece blanket tossed across the back of the couch; a framed newspaper praising Spiderman for saving a hijacked school bus, tucked in the corner but still visible if you knew to look for it.

And the pictures.

Peter’s brow furrowed at the first different photo he saw. In it, May and Peter stood outside the John F. Kennedy International Airport, her holding a big, homemade sign, shiny letters spelling out Welcome Home, Peter! 

There were a couple Post-Blip pictures of him and Tony, too, but he’d been seeing those at the tower for days. The new ones of him and May, though–an array of semi-professionally done senior pictures, the two of them outside a movie theater, May hugging him after an Academic Decathlon match, her proud smile nearly larger than Peter’s.

So many memories. It had taken months after the Blip for Peter to start bouncing back into himself, especially at home, where he didn’t have to hide all his grief for Mr. Stark. There wasn’t the need nor desire to pull out the camera, and after Beck revealed his identity . . . 

This May still had worries, of course; May Parker wasn’t one to stop worrying about her teenage nephew being a superhero. But she wasn’t being harassed in the street just because she knew him, wasn’t being questioned by the police or having her guardianship threatened. She wasn’t forced to move homes for her safety, or risk herself for Peter’s problems.

She was still alive.

Peter hadn’t realized how long he’d gone without breathing until that final thought forced a breath from him, a breath that quickly turned more into an aborted sob. 

She was still alive. 

Quentin Beck had no reason to resent Peter Parker here, no one to take his anger out on but Tony Stark, and he wasn’t quite arrogant to try that while the man lived–Mysterio didn’t have the desire to ruin Iron Man Jr’s life, or to try to frame him for murder. From what Peter could tell in this world, Peter Parker had never taken on a major villain by himself after the Vulture, and certainly no one that had put his aunt in danger.

May could still help people, and her good deeds could go unpunished. 

Because Tony was still alive, because Spiderman had chosen to act against Thanos before Iron Man could. 

“--ter? Peter, honey, you need to breathe.”

He felt vaguely dizzy as he shook his head. 

No– no–no, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t, he was sorry –

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. Try to match my breathing, okay? In, nice and deep–”

But he couldn’t, how could he? When his world was in front of him, breathing and happy and surrounded by a home full of life as her counterpart rotted away in the ground somewhere across the multiverse?

“I can’t–you’re gone –”

“Shh, Peter. I know, sweetheart, I know, you’re going to be okay.” Familiar thumbs brushed the tears from under his eyes, only for more to immediately replace them. She didn’t, though, she didn’t understand–

She shushed him gently again, and pulled him to her chest; he was just barely short enough to still be tucked under her chin, which rested on top of his curls. Her favorite perfume reached his nose, mixing with her lavender shampoo from where her hair tickled his nose, draped over her shoulder. 

He let out another sob as the arms around him tightened, especially since he knew Peter 599 could hear them, and the knowledge was just one more reminder that this wasn’t his, that it never would be again, and how was he supposed to tell any of them that?

He gasped when she pulled back slightly, but she was still there, her hands moving just enough to lift his face so their eyes met. 

“I know,” she said, so softly, like he was a fragile, precious thing. “I’ve always known. Always assumed, at least.” She pulled him close again. “You’re Peter Parker. You wouldn’t have left that world if your May was still there.”

He sniffled, opening his mouth with no sound. He quickly gave up, instead burrowing himself closer into her, knowing that she was right and not wanting to think about it. 

“I know I’m not her,” she murmured into his hair. “Not exactly. I’m here, though. I promise I’ll be here, and I’m not letting you go.”

Her real nephew was there, Peter knew, and it wasn’t fair of him to have intruded and brought this stress upon her. 

But she didn’t let go.

And he didn’t ask her to.

/*/*/*/*/

The soldering iron dropped to the table with a clatter, and Tony cursed, wiping sweaty palms on the knees of his sweatpants.

He wasn’t used to being so nervous in the lab. The lab was supposed to be where he went to beat his nerves back with a stick. 

FRIDAY had alerted him that Peter was back from his lunch with May and P-599 (he’d called the kid that earlier around DUM-E, and the robot had gotten oddly excited. Tony suspected the bot took the unfamiliar, computerized name to mean that P-599 was another machine and not just a nickname). Once he heard the news, Tony asked FRI to call Peter down to the lab.

The kid would be relaxed and happy after lunch with his aunt–Tony hoped, anyways–and possibly even up for a somewhat awkward conversation about the kid’s nighttime lab activities.

What tentatively entered the lab a few minutes later, however, was not a relaxed, happy kid. Peter rubbed his red-rimmed eyes once before entering, touching the door so hesitantly one might have thought it’d be electrified. 

“Hi,” he mumbled as he came closer, his eyes trained on the floor.

“Hey, Underoos.” Tony slid over a bag of kettle corn; no matter how much he’d eaten at the apartment, chances were he was still hungry. The kid took it wordlessly, considering it for a moment before slowly peeling it open. “So, I had a question.”

Peter tensed slightly, but didn’t otherwise protest.

“What is it about being in the lab that makes you uncomfortable?”

The poor kid tensed further, stopping his chewing. Tony cursed his lack of tact, wishing he’d started differently. The question made it sound like he was about to start scolding the kid.

“I’m not upset, just curious. We’ve been down in the lab together without crisis. Is it just working together that has you ruffled?”

Peter took his time chewing, giving a miniscule shrug. When he swallowed, it looked like a monumental task. Tony could just barely make out his reddened eyes and mussed hair from this angle, and wondered if this wasn’t the best time to be having this conversation.

“I guess?” He whispered. “Not-not work, though, just . . .” It took more patience than Tony expected to wait for him to finish. “Just . . . just the suit.”

“Your Spiderman suit?” Just to be sure. The kid nodded.

“Okay.” Tony paused, thinking out loud. “It isn’t a money issue, because you’re still using all the materials. I already offered to help with it, so it probably isn’t that you think I wouldn’t be willing to help out.” He furrowed his brow. “Do you just not want my help?”

Peter’s eyes widened in panic, and Tony immediately backpedaled, realizing how that might have sounded. “I mean, not that you have to want it. You’re an independent Spider-Kid, after all, all grown up and of legal voting age. No offense meant, I’m sure.”

“It isn’t–” Peter swallowed, his eyes casting around the room as if he’d find the right words hidden on the back wall. “I didn’t mean that you–that you wouldn’t make it better, or couldn’t, I just–I’ve always–you–”

“Pete.” He did his best to meet the kid’s eyes. “Take a breath, Roos, before you choke on a kernel. You’re okay. Take a deep breath and find your words. Not upset, remember?”

He nodded, reluctantly, and to his credit did try to take a deep–albeit shuddery–breath.

A minute later, he opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed. Opened it again.

“Back in my world, people were impressed when you gave me my first suit. Obviously. And getting it was just about the most exciting thing to ever happen to me. But it still wasn’t . . . mine. Even more so when I got the Iron Spider suit. I did have to make a suit without you, later, but it was all so rushed, and everything was based off of your notes; I just changed the design a bit to fit my needs at the time.

“The suit I brought here wasn’t high-tech, as you know. But I made it. It was mine. It was . . . it was Spiderman. I know I have to create something a bit different here, but . . . I get why you want all the added safety measures for me, and they are helpful, but I feel bad enough that I have to use all your money and tech to make it; I still want it to be Spiderman. I want it to be worthy of being called a Spiderman suit.”

He paused at the end of the mini-speech, fiddling with the half-empty kettle corn bag self-consciously. “If that makes sense.”

To be honest, it didn’t much, at least to Tony. This Peter had been Spiderman longer than Peter 599, with Earth 616 being a year ahead of theirs. Not only that, but at least some of Peter 616’s Spiderman career had been spent without a lot of his support system. The reasoning didn’t make Tony happy that the kid thought he had to do all the work and designs and safety checks in order to be worthy of the suit, but it was reasoning nonetheless.

“The Avengers were pretty much the same in your world, right?” He asked. “Before the Blip, of course.”

Furrowing his brow, Peter nodded. “Pretty much.”

“So Rhodey got the War Machine suit the same way?”

“I-I guess.”

He hummed slightly. “I designed that suit, you know. Rhodes had nothing to do with it. I helped teach him how to do maintenance on it, how to work the different controls. He caught on quickly, don’t get me wrong, but the point stands.”

Peter frowned. “Yeah, but–”

“And Cap’s war buddy? He got a fancy new arm while he was staying with the Wakandans. Haven’t heard the full story, but I’d bet all of Pepper’s fancy chocolates that he doesn’t know half the mechanics of that thing. Or Cap’s weird shrinking friend from Germany? I looked into him–he may have a Master’s Degree, but that doesn’t mean he had anything to do with making his suit, or the technology that goes with it. Doubt he understands all of it, either. I helped Clint design most of his arrows, too, and for all his smarts Vision neither designed his body nor knows everything about it–”

“Okay, okay,” Peter cut him off, somehow managing to look even more flustered. “I get it.”

“And yet just to make sure.” Tony leaned forward, wishing the kid would look at him but not wanting to push the matter. “None of them made their own suits or tech, Pete. Most of them couldn’t understand it fully if they worked with it for years, and maybe I couldn’t, either. That doesn’t make them any less of a hero. It doesn’t make you any less of a hero.”

Peter ducked his head further. Tony heard a sniff, and decided that, yes, there probably would have been a better time to have this talk. It was happening now, though, and Tony wasn’t about to stop it. 

“I just want–I want–” the kid huffed, shaking his head in frustration, and Tony got the sense that Peter didn’t quite know what he wanted–or, at least, wasn’t able to put all of it into words well enough to bother trying. Tony knew the feeling. 

He clapped his hands gently, startling Peter’s focus back onto him. “Hey, I said it’s okay, and it is. We can talk about it more if you need–maybe I can convince FRIDAY to loop a recording of this conversation whenever we’re down here–but for now, how about a compromise? I won’t helicopter-hero your designs–not much, anyways–and in return, you let me check over them, to double check the safety aspects, especially before you go out for the first time. And you come to me with any questions.”

Peter bit his lip, but nodded. “I can–I can do that.”

“Good. Now–” he pulled up a holoscreen of the suit. “Mind if I ask a few questions about your notes?”

Looking slightly less hesitant, Peter nodded.

“Something seemed a bit off in your calculations for the shield deployment, and I was wondering . . .”

Tony settled into his chair as they talked, hoping that Peter might do the same soon. If he had his way, it would end up being a very long night.

Chapter Text

“We’re honored that you’re considering Midtown as your school, Mr . . . Reilly?”

Peter cleared his throat, nodding and stepping forward to shake Mr. Morita’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”

All these names were starting to pile up. 

In his head, he was still Peter Parker, and if his alternate wasn’t around, that was how others referred to him as well. When his alternate was there, Peter became Peter 616; simple enough. But now at school, he’d be Ben Reilly, the out-of-wedlock son of Tony Stark. At Midtown, only Principal Morita would know that he was also–legally–Benjamin Stark.

As he’d said–complicated.

It was working so far, though. Tony had arranged for him and Peter to meet Morita at Midtown on a Saturday morning, the principal being made to promise that the building would be completely empty. Tony had showed up with a thick folder’s worth of NDA’s that he painstakingly watched Morita sign before saying a word.

“If you follow me through here,” Morita gestured to an office behind him, “I have the entrance exam all ready for you.”

Tony gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, which also served to nudge Peter forward. “Knock em dead, champ”--as if Peter was going for the little league home run instead of a test. Peter gave him a tight smile back as he went into the office.

Even after getting his GED, he’d kept up with studying, looking up new articles to read as often as he could or going back to read Tony and Dr. Banner’s publishings at the library. He might not have had any formal education in more than a year, but he definitely knew enough to qualify to be a senior at Midtown again. The most challenging part was the essay portion, but he knew that the school didn’t prioritize writing style and formatting as highly as the information and creativity of ideas.

He handed it in well before the hour-and-a-half time limit, thanking Principal Morita again shakily and going back out to find Tony in the lobby.

Tony slung an arm around his shoulder. “Perfect timing, Pep just sent me a god-awful proposal to look over. Want some ice cream, as a dual-purpose procrastination and celebration deal?”

“Celebration? But we don’t know for sure that I’ve gotten in.”

“Pssh.” Tony waved the concern away as if it were an insect. “One: That guy thinks I’m your dad–”

“Morita said the test is being anonymously graded online by a different teacher–”

“And two: You’re you . You got in, it’s just a matter of waiting till they send the official email. If anything, we just need to hope the teacher grading it isn’t one that knows our friend 599 too well; your essay styles are probably similar.”

Peter winced. He hadn’t even thought to change his writing style. Hopefully it wouldn’t matter too much.

“Now come on–some Stark Raving Hazelnuts with sprinkles on top will be good for both of us.”

/*/*/*/*/

Peter 616 had never been willing to tell much about his past. It drove Peter crazy–and Tony, too, though the man seemed to be doing a better job of hiding it–but he understood. The guy was going through a lot of changes, of course he didn’t have to give them his life story right away.

But May ?

He’d lost May ?

Suddenly, the feeling before that Tony knew something about Peter 616 that Peter didn’t made a lot more sense. This was something that his alternate should have been able to reveal when he was ready, not at a vulnerable moment that Peter hadn’t even meant to overhear.

Alternate. The word was starting to hold a lot more weight. In a slightly alternate world, where so many of the people and events were the same, Peter Parker had lost May.

Morbidly, Peter couldn’t help but wonder how it had happened. What little he’d heard of his alternate’s voice before he’d managed to tune out the words was tortured sounding, like someone had scraped out Peter 616’s vocal cords and replaced them with sandpaper. 

It sounded eerily like the apologies Peter himself had choked out at Ben’s grave after the funeral. He didn’t want to dwell on what that might mean.

In the days since the lunch, May had seemed more . . . present. She’d always been there, and determined to spend as much time as possible with him, but there was something almost desperate about the actions now. As they’d both been reminded that any day together could be their last.

He’d been glad for the distraction that morning when Tony had texted the good news, that Peter 616 had officially passed the Midtown High entrance exam he’d taken yesterday, and would start at Midtown on Wednesday. Peter had texted his alternate right after receiving the news, asking if they could meet up at the diner MJ worked at. The hope was that Peter 616 would get a chance to meet Ned, MJ and Gwen in person before school, and for them to meet him. He knew Peter 616 already knew Ned and MJ well in his own world–and had been watching them a bit in this one–but he wanted Peter to meet his friends when they actually knew he was there.

“Just don’t call him Peter, ” he mumbled, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. “ Ben, remember. Ben, Ben, Ben. ” Stupid, complicated identity situation.

“Hey.”

Peter perked up at the voice, glancing up and having to do a double take. He knew Peter 616 would be coming in a disguise–obviously–but it was still odd to hear his alternate’s voice, still so similar to his own, coming from a different face.

Peter 616 still sported brown hair and eyes, but in lighter shades than usual, and a more narrow face. There was a mole by the corner of his lip, and freckles on the sides of his eyes, which were mostly hidden by the black-framed glasses he wore. The two of them still looked a bit similar, but people wouldn’t mistake them as the same person anymore. 

“Hey!” Peter smiled, though his counterpart didn’t return it. “Congrats on your acceptance–not that any of us were surprised.” 

“Thanks,” Peter 616 mumbled, though his eyes tracked behind Peter, through the diner’s front window. 

“Hey–” he waited until 616 had at least glanced back at him. “They’re excited to meet you. We already know that they’ll like your personality, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“We already know they like your personality,” the other Peter mumbled under his breath, but didn’t protest audibly. Just swallowed one more time, pursed his lips and started walking inside. 

Peter took a deep breath. “Ben,” he repeated, and followed after him.

MJ was busy at the counter with a customer, but Ned and Gwen sat at a booth by the wall, and waved them over once they saw Peter. The two Peters slid beside them on the edge–Peter fighting a blush as he brushed Gwen’s side, and Peter 616 seemingly doing whatever he could to avoid meeting Ned’s eyes.

“Hey, guys,” Peter greeted with a smile. “This is Ben. He’s the son of one of the employees at Stark Industries, and just got accepted into Midtown. I figured he should have a few familiar faces when he starts on Wednesday.”

Gwen smiled and waved. “Nice to meet you.”

Ned beamed as he held out a hand. “Hi! It’s so cool your parent works at Stark Industries–what department are they in? Have you met any of the Avengers? Has Tony Stark ever come by? What–”

Peter glanced at his counterpart, cutting Ned off at the look of discomfort on 616’s face. He wondered what was going through the older boy’s head.

Predictably, Peter 616’s thoughts were a jumble of it’s a fresh start–first impression, that’s important–they like him but I’m not him –

He barely had any headspace to commit to the cover story Tony had briefed him on about his mom working at SI in the R&D department, hardly even had the ability to respond to his new name. Ned was here, safe and sound, with all the excited babble Peter had known him for not being able to contain. He was so much the same that Peter had to repeatedly remind himself of his differences as well. This Ned hadn’t gone through a world without Tony Stark, and the Peter Parker that was depressed for months after Iron Man’s death, he’d had a safe and enjoyable summer in Europe and was a shoe-in for MIT after graduating. 

Gwen’s presence, at least, helped solidify the reminder that this was a different world. No matter how much he concentrated, he couldn’t think of any time he had seen or heard of her in his own world; every time she spoke, it was like a reset button was pushed in his head, placing him back firmly on Earth 599.

It was only a couple minutes before his spidersense alerted him to someone walking up to them, though not in a dangerous way–physically, at least.

“Some donuts for my fellow Tigers?”

Peter spun to face her, eyes wide at the innocent question. MJ raised a questioning brow as she set the plate of chocolate glazed donuts down on their table.

“What?” He managed to croak, a different day streaming through his mind.

“Donut for my fellow Engineer?”

MJ pursed her lips, tucking an errant curl behind her ear as she looked him up and down. “Midtown, we’re the Tigers–you know, our mascot?”

“MIT, they’re the Engineers, the mascot.”

Their excitement, their innocence, the knowledge that they’d be better off without him, it felt like such a sick parallel to hear it now. He’d got what he’d wanted since that first day here–Ned and MJ, knowing he was there, talking to him as an equal, as a friend of a friend and not just a customer. And he barely knew how to form a word.

Finally, he managed to swallow, remembered how to breathe. “Right . . . right, sorry. I’m–I think I’m just a little–distracted, today.”

She shrugged as she pulled over a chair, glancing back at the counter and the kitchen behind it. “That’s fine today, just be ready by Wednesday; we just started The Metamorphosis in English.”

“Don’t worry, you haven’t missed much,” Ned assured him. “It’s pretty much just about this weird guy that turns into a giant bug.”

MJ gave Ned a flat, squinted stare, and the gesture was so familiar that Peter felt his heart twist. “You know he didn’t actually turn into an insect, right? It’s a metaphor for guilt and the regression of Gregor’s development, not a literal metamorphosis.”

Ned’s baffled expression made it clear that, no, he was not aware of such symbolism. Peter’s lips quirked upward. 

He found himself caught in the same blushing trap Peter 599 had encountered when MJ turned back to him with that deciphering stare, like he was a particularly complex equation she sought to tease out. 

“What did you say your name was?”

“Ben,” he remembered just in time. “Ben Reilly. It’s nice to meet you–um, MJ, right?”

She nodded, and Peter had a moment to be glad that she wasn’t the type to want to shake hands. Talking to her was hard enough, physical contact of any fashion right now was off the table.

“At least, that’s what my friends call me.” She squinted at him. “If Peter vouches for you, you can’t be all bad, but know that you’re on thin ice.”

Peter smiled, both nostalgic to remember the first time he’d earned calling her her nickname, and a bit relieved that he could skip the step now.

Though he didn’t miss the fact that he got that privilege now because of Peter 599, not because MJ liked him as himself yet.

“Thanks,” was all he said in the end, turning back to Gwen before he could make any more of a fool in front of MJ. “So, Peter said you’ve applied for Oxford?”

That subject was able to carry them for a while, Peter staying quiet and nodding along, adding in little “ hm ”s and “oh, really?”s whenever necessary. Some of it was repeat details of what 599 had already told him, but he was glad for any distraction from the fact that he was sitting in between two of the people he’d missed most in the world.

It didn’t circle back to him until fifteen minutes later, after Gwen had described a chemical engineering group she was hoping to join into in Oxford. Ned turned to Peter, nearly bouncing in his seat. 

“Do you have any clubs you’ve been thinking about joining at Midtown yet? We’re all on Academic Decathlon, it’s so fun–I mean, we’re full right now, but it’d still be fun to have you on as an alternate, or–ooh! Maybe you could even replace Flash on the team! I’d be down for that. And Peter and I recently rejoined the Robotics Club, you should totally join! If you’re into that kind of stuff, of course.”

“I’m–” he glanced at Peter 599, who gave an encouraging nod and smile. “Into that. Stuff. Academic Decathlon sounds fun, I think–I think I’d like that–to join, that is.”

MJ nodded with approval. “I’ll email you the first round of study questions tonight.”

“I–okay. I got my school email this morning, it’s–”

She held up a hand. “I’ll find it, I’m sure.”

The bell rang over the door, and MJ stood, her eyes rolled to high Heaven as she blew the curl out of her face once more. “I need to go. See you Wednesday, Ben. Good luck with Kafka.”

He nodded, and then she was gone, her small “customer service smile” fixing on her face as two small children pawed at the countertop and pointed at the display of donuts behind her. 

“I should go, too,” Gwen said with a sigh. “Promised I’d help my little brother with a project.” Peter 599 stood, moving out of the way so that Gwen could exit the booth, waving over her shoulder at them.

Ned left only a minute later when a text from his Lola buzzed on his phone, smiling apologetically at them as he scooted out of the booth; Peter hoped his expression wasn’t too wistful as he watched him and Peter 599 do their familiar handshake before Ned left. 

Peter 599 managed to not say anything for an entire two minutes as they walked over to the subway to get back to the tower. When he did speak up, it was truly like a balloon bursting, the words coming out jumbled together.

“Sowereyouokaywiththem?”

Peter blinked, shrugging once he’d deciphered the words. “I’m . . . fine. I’m glad you invited me. It was good to see them. And, you know, I’ll have plenty of time at school to get more used to seeing them.”

“Right. Yeah. Of course, I’m glad you could come. I know it won’t be exactly like your school back home, but–”

“I’m staying here now,” Peter cut him off. “This world–it’s going to be home now, right? It’s okay that it’s not–I know it’s not the same. It’s okay.”

Peter 599 nodded, glancing around and taking a deep breath before continuing. “And about what you–I mean, not that I meant to hear what you said at my–at the apartment the other day, but–”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Peter sped up his gait, eyes glued to the ground. The last thing he needed to see was pity in his own eyes. 

“I figured you’d heard it, obviously you know what it all meant. Just–that was a year ago, I’ve–it’s over now. You don’t need to worry about it.”

He could feel his alternate’s eyes on him for the next block, but thankfully something in the other boy convinced him to stay quiet and not push the issue.

Another new identity. A new–old–school, and a few new–old–friends to go into it with.

Well, Peter could speak from experience when he said that it could certainly be worse.

Chapter Text

“The Arachnid?”

“Makes it sound like I’m the Wish version of you. And I don’t love names that are reliant on the ‘the’ in front.”

“Okay–ooh! How about the Scarlet Spider? I feel like that one isn’t as reliant on the ‘the’.” 

“My costume has blue and gold on it, too, though? Your suit is honestly more red than mine.”

“Venom?”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know. Sounds too dangerous, people might think I’m the bad guy. Besides, I don’t have venom.”

“Well, do you have any suggestions?”

Peter 599 looked up from his waffles across the table at him, a bit of exasperation in his eyes. The other Peter had spent the night at the tower before Peter’s first day at Midtown, and the two of them had met up on Tony’s floor for breakfast, now digging into high piles of waffles and berries, courtesy of Pepper . It was a testament to Peter’s metabolism  that he was able to eat, given how much his gut was swirling with anticipation.

Peter swallowed, the blackberries turning to paste in his stomach. “I-I don’t know. I didn’t even really come up with Spiderman, I guess; people started calling me that in the streets, I thought it sounded cool, and so I started introducing myself that way.”

“So, there you go,” Peter 599 clapped his hands. “You’ll go out soon, people will start to notice you, and then eventually they’ll come to a consensus on a new name for you.”

Peter frowned, spearing a blueberry onto his fork. “Let’s call that Plan B. I feel like, for a while, people will just end up referring to me as ‘the other Spiderman’ anyways.” And no, there was no bitterness in his voice. “I’d rather have something to tell people this time around when they ask who I am–because they will ask who I am.”

“I guess we do have a bit more time to shoot ideas around. Tony’s doing a diagnostics check tonight, right?”

“Yeah. He says if it looks good I can do a quick test run tonight and make sure everything’s good in the field.”

“Want me to tag along, or would you rather run it solo?”

Peter gave him a wry smile. “Don’t you think people see double enough around us?”

Peter 599 barked out a surprised laugh, just in time for Tony’s bedroom door to open down the hall. The man smiled as he approached, reaching out with each hand to ruffle the boys’ hair. 

“Ready for your first day, kid? Or, well, I guess it isn’t your first day of senior year, but you know what I mean.”

Peter did. First day–second chance. 

They finished breakfast quickly, heading down to the garage, where they’d managed to convince Tony to take one of the less flashy cars, a Spiderman sticker slightly peeling where it was stuck to the windshield. 

“Sure you’ve got everything you need?” Tony asked for the third time as they got in. “The back-to-school shopping season has passed, so I’m afraid I wasn’t able to get the bulk pack of mechanical pencils on sale, which I hope you can forgive.”

Peter 599 glanced in the rearview mirror from the shotgun, probably recognizing from Peter’s tightened mouth and bouncing leg that he was in no state to give a witty comeback. The other boy gave him an encouraging smile.

“I don’t know, Tony,” Peter 599 responded, winking in the mirror. “That might be the last straw for the day. We know how attached Peter Parkers are to their mechanical pencils.”

Peter managed a small smile to the mirror before directing his attention back to the SHIELD mask in his hands. The face of “Ben Reilly” was now a default setting on the software, and it was easy to pull up. They’d made sure early on that he was able to eat and drink normally in it, that there wasn’t any chance of it coming off during the school day. That would bring up questions Peter didn’t need to worry about answering.

“So, Tony, we need your help with something.” 

Peter looked back to the front at the mention of the we.

“616 and I are trying to come up with his new superhero name. Any ideas?”

“Webhead.”

Peter scowled. “That’s the name criminals use to insult me, I can’t use it as my superhero name.”

“Sure you can. Take charge of your own narrative.”

“Vetoed.”

“Spinster.”

“That makes it sound like I’m a DJ.”

“Man-Spider.”

“People will think I have eight legs.”

“Always a good imitation factor for the bad guys.”

Peter huffed, shaking his head and trying to hide his smile. “Like we said, we have a bit more time to think about it. I just don’t want it to be too similar to Spiderman; I know our suits are similar still, and we’ll both still use webs, but I do hope I can be mostly distinct from the hero the people already know.”

“We’ll make sure of it,” Peter 599 agreed. “We’ll get you your own catchphrase and everything.”

Peter was excited to start patrolling again, of course he was. He hadn’t been out swinging anywhere but the training room since he’d first arrived in this world, and missed it sorely. Slicing through the wind, helping people however he could, knowing that he was making a difference.

The names discussion was fun and all, but Peter had to be careful not to think about it too hard yet. If he did, all it would do was remind him that by staying here, he had to give up the name of Spiderman forever. The one name, the one identity he’d been able to keep since his uncle’s death, would no longer truly be his.

Later, though. He had to save those thoughts for later. For now, his mind had to be dedicated to the oh-so familiar campus they were pulling up to, only a few hundred feet from the regular drop-off line.

Peter took a deep breath before sticking the disguise on, glad that the windows were tinted enough that no one had been able to see the two Peters sitting inside before. There was a slight tingle over his face as the mask took effect, and he was no longer Peter Parker but Ben Reilly, the look completed with his black-framed, non-prescription glasses. 

599 turned back to him, and Peter rankled slightly at the excitement on the younger boy’s face, like Peter was a kindergartener that he had to hype up and promise that “school is so much fun, there’s no reason to be nervous!”

“Ready?”

Peter opened the door in response, turning to give Tony one last smile.

“Ready.”

/*/*/*/*/

Gwen wasn’t the only new face at school. With every class, Peter was reminded that the changes to this world didn’t just come from the effects of Peter 599 snapping in the battle against Thanos. There were different people like Brad, who had stayed behind in the Blip and now were five years older than Peter remembered them back home. And, vice versa, there were people still his age that had Blipped away on Earth 616. That explained why, even with the addition of Gwen, they still only had one alternate on the AcaDec team.

He’d only had one morning class with Peter 599 and Gwen, but two with both Ned and MJ. 

He’d also had two classes so far with Flash, but hey, he was trying to focus on the positives here.

599 and his friends were . . . nice. Of course they were; Ned waved him over as soon as he saw him, whispering details about the class and handing him a copy of his notes to use for the quiz they always had on Friday. MJ didn’t look up from her book when he came in, but did remove her backpack from the seat next to her. At least that meant she didn’t have to see his face redden as he sat down by her, cheeks flushing as his arm brushed hers.

Gwen was almost as observant about people as MJ, it seemed, because she had something to say about nearly everyone in class to Peter, warning him about which girls smoked weed behind the school, what guys did not cover their sneezes or coughs and, ironically enough, to stay away from Flash Thompson.

“We all go to a nerd school, yet he’s still the kind of guy to bully those smarter than him. I know I don’t know much about you yet, but something tells me you’d do well to stay away from him.”

Peter needed no further prompting.

Still, all day he couldn’t stop being reminded that they were being nice to him because Peter 599 asked them to, because he was the new kid that they felt obligated to look after. None of them were actually his friends yet. Ned didn’t go into a rambled speech about the latest Star Wars theory or Spiderman video around him, MJ didn’t make random comments or complaints about her book. They were friendly, but Peter had no idea how to make them his friends. 

“So–” Ned set his tray down on the lunch table, the sudden clatter making Peter startle slightly. He and Ned had the same class before lunch, so Ned had “guided him” to the cafeteria, leaving him to find an empty table for them while he got in line; it was likely that Gwen was still in line, 599 was heating up leftovers in the microwaves, and he hadn’t spotted MJ yet.

“A very important question that will, I’m sure, define the rest of our time here at school together.” Ned leaned forward, grinning. “What’s your opinion on Spiderman?”

Peter couldn’t hold back a snort. “Where do I begin?”

“I know, right?” Ned beamed. “He’s so cool.”

“Totally.” What else was he supposed to say? Peter 599’s Spiderman was a great hero, but it felt weird, talking him up out loud here when he knew the person under the mask–when the person under the mask was, technically–kind of–himself.

“I’m glad to hear it. In my experience, that probably means we’ll be good friends.” He winked.

“Really? Even MJ? She doesn’t seem like she’d be into all that very much.” That’s the way it had sounded at the diner a couple weeks ago, at least.

“Into all what?” MJ set her bag down, pulling out a bowl of pasta salad and a worn copy of The Kite Runner. From what little Peter had read of their syllabus, it was the book they were starting for English in a couple weeks after they finished The Metamorphosis. 

“Spiderman,” Ned answered.

“Oh, him. No, I’m not. Not compared to Ned, at least.”

Ned borderline pouted. “Then why do you never protest when I talk about him so much?”

“Probably because she’s not always listening to it.”

Gwen smiled teasingly as she sat down, Peter 599 right next to her. Sure enough, MJ looked only about halfway present in the conversation, the other half divided between eating and reading her book. 

“Whatever,” Ned rolled his eyes, turning back to Peter. “So, how’s your first day going so far?”

“It’s going good,” Peter found himself able to truthfully say. “A bit of an . . . adjustment, but there haven’t been any real problems so far.” And there hadn’t been. Even with the classes that Flash had been in, he wasn’t that bad; he hadn’t seemed to have really noticed Peter in class, and so there weren’t any targeted remarks or anything.

“Glad to hear it.” Peter 599 smiled at him, and Peter was glad to return it. The other Peter was the only one that could somewhat understand what Peter meant when he called the morning “a bit of an adjustment,” and he was glad that he could count on the other boy not to push the subject.

“Speaking of adjustments,” Peter 599 switched the subject, “we’re all about to have one more. Ben, MJ, I know you don’t have her until seventh period, but Mrs. Mitchells announced today that she’ll officially be out for maternity leave starting Monday. And no, they don’t know for certain who’s replacing her yet.”

Mrs. Mitchells was their Economics teacher, Peter remembered after a moment. He didn’t remember her being pregnant when he was still in school, but then again, things change across the rift of time and space.

He let himself nod along to the conversation, getting up the nerve to add his own tidbits every now and then, until the bell for the next period made them stop. Once, a joke he made even caused MJ to smile, meeting his eyes over her book; Peter’s heartbeat didn’t quite recover for the rest of the period.

It felt almost–normal. Almost, but not quite.

/*/*/*/*/

“Afternoon, Sixer.”

Peter blinked, a feeling of deja-vu washing over him. Tony winked at him as Peter climbed into the backseat, a greasy takeout bag shoved onto his lap. Nearly the same image had greeted him the first time Tony had come to pick him up from school in his first world, but with tacos instead of shawarma.

“How was your first day?”

“It was-it was good.” There was still a niggling of wrongness in his gut, but things were good. He was back at school. He’d get a real diploma, someday. Mr. Harrington had a prior commitment right after school, but agreed to get Peter the information to try out for Decathlon tomorrow if he still wanted it. 599’s friends really had been nice . . . 

“It better have been. Now, eat up. We have a lot to check over if you want to take that suit out tonight, and I need you fueled up for it.”

Peter obligingly pulled out a styrofoam box, opening it and silently pledging to not get too much grease on the seats, even though he knew Tony didn’t care a ton about stuff like that.

“Is Peter 599 coming with us?”

“He and Ned had a study-thing. Just you and me for now.”

Peter nodded, smiling a bit around his first bite.

They pulled out Peter’s new suit as soon as they got to the lab, Peter running a hand over the material with a small smile. It wasn’t the same as his old suit, but then again, he wasn’t quite the same as he used to be. He liked the new hood the best; the material was light enough to not get in the way while swinging, but no Spiderman suit he’d had had one before, and it was one of the biggest parts to distinguish him from Spiderman here.

Tony had started putting together the suit as soon as they were satisfied with the hologram design a few days ago, with one more half-lecture about “using my materials and technology doesn’t make you less of a hero,” speech when he saw Peter’s face at it.

The blue was several shades darker than the brighter, more saturated color of the suit Peter 599 usually used to patrol in, and from his fingers to forearm was a “glove” appearance with a solid blue color, subtle gold highlights coming out in the sunlight; his boots had a similar coloring.

“Fri, do a diagnostics check of the web-fluid first, please.”

Peter bounced a bit on his feet. “I still think the chemical adjustments we made yesterday will make it work out.”

Another thing to set the two Peters’ hero personas apart–Peter had worked hours yesterday to adjust his web fluid to come out gold instead of white; apparently there was a species of spider that spun gold-shining webs, and Peter had snatched up the idea in a heartbeat.

“While she does that,” Tony said, “do you want to start the manual check of the shield deployment, while I look over the communications equipment?”

Peter nodded, already leaning over the suit for his part. 

That was another part he’d–hesitantly, at first–insisted on: Karen. Rather than create a new AI for his suit, they just added her in from Peter 599’s suit, making the necessary adjustments so that she’d be able to serve them both at once and connect them for communication purposes if necessary. She also, of course, could connect him to the tower or any of the Iron Man suits.

Pepper made them break for dinner a couple of hours into their progress. Tony put an arm around him as they took the elevator upstairs, promising that they were almost done.

“Just remember to give your food enough time to settle before you swing,” he teased.

They ate dinner with the Avengers tonight, almost all of the team gathered around the large table. It was nice; they did ask about Peter’s first day, but for the most part there was enough other conversation going on that Peter didn’t have to worry about talking too much.

“Now Bruce,” Tony started, pointing his fork at the other scientist. “Not that I was going through your mail or anything, but did I hear that a shipment of live spiders got delivered to your department today?”

Bruce’s cheeks flushed as he nodded. “Well–yes. My team is studying a new genetic disease in the cosmophasis micarioides jumping spider.” He fumbled with his phone for a moment before showing them a picture. It was pretty, Peter supposed, with blue bands along its torso and legs; at least, that’s the way it seemed to be for the males, the females looking more golden.

Tony shuddered. “Well, best of luck. Just keep them on your side of the tower–only three spiders are allowed in my lab, and two of them are at this table.”

Natasha flicked an asparagus tip at his head, and Peter giggled, disguising it behind his hand.

As soon as they were cleared from the table, Tony followed Peter as he rushed back down to the lab, calling out a hurried “thank you” behind him for dinner.

“Got some good news for me, Friday?” Peter asked once he was down.

“ The diagnostic is complete,” she confirmed. “ The suit is clear for use.”

Peter bounced a bit on the balls of his feet, running his hand over the material again as he glanced at Tony. 

The man raised a brow and smiled, jerking his head towards the bathroom as if to ask well, what are you waiting for?

With the confirmation, Peter picked up the suit with an even mix of excitement and apprehension, heading over to the bathroom.

It fit well, as they knew it would. The material hugged him like the old one, the biggest change being in the coloring. Still, something about being in it made Peter feel . . . different.

He’d enlarged the eyepieces to match the shape on Peter 3’s suit, and made the web-lines pop out more like they’d been on Peter 2’s. He liked the look of having his two other interdimensional brothers with him as he swung into action here. And though it sounded childish, he did like the silhouette the hood provided, like a frilled lizard puffing up to intimidate its predators.

“Pete? How does it feel?”

He grinned, jumping to the ceiling and opening the door with a shining gold web; he crawled across the room to his mentor before flipping to the ground and doing a little spin to show off the suit.

Tony smiled in approval. “It looks good. Feels good?”

Peter nodded. “It feels great. Can I go out in it?”

“You have a name picked out yet?”

“Well . . . not quite. But I don’t think I need one for the first time, right? This is just to get the rumor mill going. Test it out in the field. People can wonder who I am for a couple more days before I start giving a name out.”

The man shrugged, the corner of his lips curling up. “I suppose that’s true. Go ahead. Just don’t stay out too late, okay?”

“Yes!” Peter pumped a fist, running forward and giving Tony a quick hug before he could think twice, jumping out of the window in the next moment.

/*/*/*/*/

He’d left the tower just after dusk–one of his favorite times to patrol. 

It was early enough that some families were still out walking or shopping, a few older kids still playing on the outskirts of technically-closed-parks. At the same time, though, it was dark enough that some of the more dangerous crimes would sometimes start by now.

Tonight was pretty mild, all things considered. Peter got back into the rhythm of swinging in between the skyscrapers, with last-second changes and daring flips. Though his webs were thin, he could hear the change in color noted by a couple people on his lower swings, and he smiled to himself to hear them take notice.

A group of kids wanted help getting a pet ferret–because cats were too cliche nowadays apparently–out of a tree and back into its little backpack. The wily thing was slippery coming down, and none too happy at being handled by a stranger, but hey, the suit material was thick enough to handle it. The kids oohed and aahed at the different suit.

“Are you Spiderman?” One little boy asked, looking about ten years old.

“No–I know we look similar, but I’m someone different.”

A pig-tailed girl that looked to be the boy’s older sister crossed her arms. “You can do flips like Spiderman, though, right?”

Of course, after he said yes they demanded proof, not satisfied until he had demonstrated several increasingly-complex flips on the grass. By the time he landed the fifth one they were clapping.

“What’s your name, then?” A second boy asked.

Peter winked, glad that these eyepieces moved with him. “Not telling yet.”

“But that’s not fair!”

He laughed, shooting a web out and shouting as he swung, “just trying to keep you on your toes!”

He managed to stop a potential bicycle crash not long after–bicycle lights are not that much money, buddy–and sneak in through a window just in time to punch an abusive boyfriend in the face before he could do the same to his girlfriend, who’d already been pushed to the floor.

Maybe he didn’t hold his punch back quite enough, but he didn’t feel too bad. He got the young woman some water and called the police, making sure that her neighbor was there to keep her company before swinging away.

By the time he stopped for a rest on a rooftop, darkness had fully taken over the city, barely a hint of the purple sunset left in the sky. There were no children left playing outside, and Peter was glad to hear those young voices inside their houses, playing and watching movies with their families.

He dangled his legs off the edge, leaning back slightly. 

It wasn’t technically his city, but he would protect it like it was. 

He’d expected to be joined at some point in the night. However, he’d expected it to be Peter 599, or Tony. He turned to Natasha with his head cocked in confusion.

“Evening, Not-Spiderman.”

He huffed. 

“So, what name were you thinking of? Because you know guesses will start going out after tonight.”

Peter shifted, a bit self-conscious about it now. He had thought of one, he just hoped she didn’t think it was dumb.

“I was thinking about, um, Cosmic?”

The superspy mulled it over for a moment, before smirking. “Did you name yourself after the spiders Bruce started studying?”

Peter’s blush deepened. “Maybe . . . ?” She didn’t seem to be truly judging him, just teasing. “Does it sound stupid?”

“No. Just different. It’ll stand out from Spiderman, and I think that’s good. People will know you for you. I can help you spread the word when you’re ready.” 

“So, why are you here? I doubt it was just to ask me about the name I’m choosing here.”

She turned to him, and he could feel her eyes piercing past the mask. “You went back to Midtown today.”

“Yeah . . . I already talked about it at dinner. It went fine”

She shrugged. “So you said.”

He frowned. “You don’t believe me.”

“You just started school in another dimension, with your dimensional counterpart and his friends, most of which were your own friends in your own world. No, I don’t believe you.” She stared at him harder. “How did it really go?”

Peter scowled, facing away from her and towards the ground. He didn’t answer for several minutes, and she didn’t say anything, neither pushing him nor letting him off the hook. 

“It was fine,” he maintained. “It was just . . .” he trailed off again, swallowing, lowering his voice. “It’s the same as it was before.”

“What?”

“I meant–I’m a stranger to them. Ned and MJ, they were two of the closest people in the world to me. And now . . . now I’m just their friend’s acquaintance. Some guy that Peter introduced to them and asked them to be friends with. I miss . . . I miss them being friends with me. I know it’s just the first day, but . . .”

“But it’s not really your first day of school there,” Natasha finished. “It’s not really your first time meeting them.”

“Yeah.”

Peter hadn’t gone to the diner on Earth 616 much, after he’d made the decision to not endanger them by entering their lives again. The few times he had, though, it almost wasn’t worth it, to see his best friend and the love of his life either not look at him at all, or look at him with a fake customer-service smile.

“I just miss them.”

Natasha just nodded, not bothering with reassurances that would have fallen on deaf ears. 

“Update me in a few weeks.”

He nodded back.

“Wanna go street-wakeboarding on a trash-can lid while connected to my motorcycle with a web?”

“ . . . How fast will you go?”

“I promise to not go below 65 unless absolutely necessary.”

Peter smiled. “Deal. Meet you down there.”

Chapter Text

“Wow. ”

Peter 599 grinned. “Good, right?”

“I can’t believe we didn’t have this place in my world.”

The two Spiders sat on top of the library, their legs dangling off the side. In celebration of Peter finishing his first week at Midtown–even though Peter had argued that it had only been half a week–Peter 599 had met up with him in their suits right after dinner, showing him to the best hot cinnamon donut stand Peter had ever known.

A few passerby had spotted them as they ate, eyes widening as they got their phones out. Peter smirked to think about the photos that would be across social media by the end of the night.

Cosmic still wasn’t a fully recognized name; this was only his third patrol, after all. But New Yorkers were not shy with their phones when someone swung over them, and he knew a few videos of him were circling YouTube already–Ned had rambled about as much at lunch that day.

He knew it’d take a long time before his new persona had anywhere near the same trust that Spiderman had here, but Cosmic had gotten a good start, and he knew that it would help that Peter 599 was so eager to have times that they patrolled together and hung out in the suit.

Of course, there was one person across the multiverse that it seemed would never trust them. Peter flinched slightly when he saw Jameson's scowling face across a screen, but relaxed when he caught what the man was saying, snorting with laughter.

"Spidey." Peter nudged his counterpart, gesturing to the screen. 599's eyes widened as soon as he saw Jameson's face.

"Another spider-menace invading our city." Jameson's mustache twitched with displeasure as recent video clips of Cosmic swinging between skyscrapers, zooming in on his only-slightly-different webs. "Coincidence? I think not! Fellow New Yorkers, do you know what I think?" A diagram appeared beside him on the screen as Jameson, with the most serious possible face, said: "Spiderman must have bitten Cosmic to share in his evil deeds with another criminal!"

599 collapsed backwards onto the roof, kicking his feet in the air like a kid as he wheezed with laughter. "He thinks I contaminated you!" Peter could hardly make out the words around his counterpart's howled laughter. "I can't believe--of all the things--" he dissolved into wheezing again, clutching the front of his suit like he was going to laugh a stitch loose. 

Even Peter himself couldn't help but snort again, in shock as much as amusement. He sobered a moment later, the scene reminding him a bit too much of one of his last conversations with MJ.

"yes, my Spider-Lord."

The memory made his chest too heavy to laugh any more, but the damage was done; Peter 599 had snapped his gaze over to him, grinning from his laughter.

Peter dusted the cinnamon sugar from his gloves, tucking his mask back down on his face. They hadn't stayed out too long tonight, the sky beginning to send streaks of dusty pink across the dreary New York sky.

“Thanks.” He lay back on his elbows, trying to put Jameson out of his mind. “This was nice.”

Peter 599 paused, frowning for a moment before laying beside him, thankfully getting the message. “It is nice up here,” he agreed. He turned. “How’ve your classes been going? I’m only in a couple of them, but I hope the rest are going well, too?”

Peter shrugged. “They’re going fine. I know a lot of the material in the science and math classes already, so at least I don’t have to worry about keeping up with comprehension as much.”

“Ned said Flash is in a couple of your classes?”

“Just in the morning, thankfully. My afternoon is Flash-free, at least until Decathlon.”

Peter 599 turned to face him, and Peter could see the outline of his grin under the mask. “That’s right–how’d your meeting with Mr. Harrington go?”

“Well . . . I’d been planning to tell you all before school on Monday, but what’s another secret between spiders? It went really well. Based off of my score on the application test and Mr. Harrington’s interview, he said I qualified to push Flash down to first alternate. I start at Monday’s meeting.”

“Yes! The team will be glad to hear it. And even though Flash won’t be glad to hear it, that guy’s needed to be knocked down a peg or two for a while now.”

Peter smiled as he settled more comfortably onto the roof. Each day, he just reminded himself of Natasha’s task–he was to update her on Peter 599’s friends in a few weeks. Until then, he just had to take the days as they came. With each day, they would become less just Peter 599’s friends, and more Peter’s friends too. 

Or, you know, Ben Reilly’s friends.

Peter was getting more used to responding to the name every day, no longer hesitating quite as much when teachers called on him to answer or Gwen waved to him in the hall. He was hopeful that, by the time he was due to update the Black Widow, he’d have good news.

At Peter 599’s insistence, they stopped by the Parkers’ apartment, changing into civilian clothes before Peter would change back and swing back to the tower. He was only a bit surprised when May hugged him right away, herding them into the kitchen for hot chocolate and the leftover muffins someone had brought in at work.

Peter didn’t stay long, and neither of them pushed for him to, just reminding him that he was welcome over any time. May shoved one last muffin into his hands “for the swing back to the tower,” before he was able to go back out and change, propping his backpack against a brick wall and keeping an eye on the opening as he changed.

It was nearly completely dark by the time he got back to his bedroom window, crawling through silently and asking FRIDAY to put the lights to 25%, just enough that he could get into pajamas easily and flop into bed, folding the suit and tucking it into a back corner of his closet.

His bed–softer than his apartment, softer than home with May–was especially comfortable tonight, and he collapsed into it with a dramatic sigh, burrowing into the pillows and falling asleep far faster than normal.

No deeper than normal, though. When the soft sounds of crying reached his overly sensitive ears, he jolted up in bed, scrambling over to his door before it sunk in what he was doing.

He knew that cry. He knew it from when she fell from the stairs and scraped her knee, or when the pet shelter showed their tear-jerking commercials on the TV. No way was he going to stand by and listen to Morgan’s tears without helping.

He paused for a second outside her bedroom door, his brain starting to catch up with his feet. 

Morgan wasn’t his biggest fan, and he knew that, but he was better than nothing, right? He was pretty sure Tony was down in the lab, and Pepper had an early flight for a business meeting in the morning. If he could handle it, that was the best thing to do, right? Calm her down, get her a drink and a snack or something and see her back to bed. 

He nodded in approval of his decision, knocking once softly before pushing open the door.

“Morgan? It’s just a nightmare, kiddo, you’re okay.”

He knelt by her bed, reaching out a tentative hand to her shoulder and shaking gently until she jerked awake. She gasped, her big brown eyes wet and blinking hard as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“Morg–” Before he could get the rest of her name out she had barreled into him, her arms squeezing around his torso, her face buried into his stomach. 

Peter froze for only a moment before his hands instinctively wrapped back around her, one of his hands coming up to card through her sleep-mussed hair. She shook minutely as her cries petered out against him, and he shushed her absently, hugging her closer. He’d never hugged Morgan; not here, and certainly not in his first world.

It was nice.

For a moment, anyways.

Before Peter could ask what was wrong, she loosened her hold enough to look up at him, jerking out of his arms a second later.

“Go away!”

Peter flinched back, trying to keep the hurt out of his eyes. “Morgan, I was just trying to–”

“No!” She screwed up her little face, pushing him in the chest. “I don’t want you –you’re not the real Petey, you’re not my brother!” She pushed to her feet, detangling her legs from her blankets and shoving at him one more time. “I hate you!”

He was too stunned to try saying anything as she stomped away, slamming her door behind her, footsteps headed towards her parents’ room.

His throat felt like he’d tried to swallow a golf ball as he slowly stood. FRIDAY didn’t say anything, but the silence felt more like judgment than anything else as he went back to his room, pulled the Cosmic suit back on, and jumped out the window.

/*/*/*/*/

Cosmic patrolled a lot longer that weekend. He talked to the street vendors, gave out cash to the homeless, and held a baby for a harried mother. He cracked jokes while wrapping would-be muggers in golden webs and fueled tons of YouTube videos with his death-defying flips across the cityscape.

1. Jonah Jameson–surprising no one, especially the vigilante himself–published the Daily Bugle’s first hate article featuring Cosmic. Peter was only surprised that the publication hadn’t come sooner. If he’d been in a bit of a better mood, he would have printed the blog’s article to hang on his wall. A “first Daily Bugle recognition of my new vigilante persona” trophy, if you will.

Probably seeing that he was patrolling from the media, Peter 599 asked if he wanted to come over for lunch on Saturday. Peter didn’t answer, even though he couldn’t exactly claim that he hadn’t gotten the message, since 599 had asked through Karen. What was he supposed to say, though?

Sorry, not really feeling up to lunch today. Got reminded that your surrogate little sister hates me because I don’t hold up to the standard that you’ve inadvertently set in this universe. 

Peter 599 didn’t need the guilt trip, and Peter didn’t need the reminder of why Morgan didn’t like him. Much better to eat six street tacos by himself on top of a roof. 

He didn’t need to be Morgan’s big brother. He didn’t need her to love him or run to him first for help with a nightmare. He’d never known her, really, on Earth 616, so it wasn’t like her rejection was the same as if Tony or May or Ned here pushed him away. 

Still. Nowhere in his Spiderman work had he been prepared to deal with the emotions that came with a child hating him because he was the worse version of himself. 

What would they do if the media did find out about the cover story that Ben Reilly was Tony Stark’s biological child? At this rate, Morgan was more likely to yell in the interviewers’ faces that this imposter was not her brother, no matter the story people told. 

On Sunday, he decided to take advantage of one of the best distractions this world has to offer, and spends ten minutes convincing the workers of an animal shelter to let him come in and play with the animals.

(it turned out that someone had gotten a video of him getting that ferret out of the tree, which ended up coming in handy)

Most of the dogs and puppies were all too excited, after sniffing him for a moment, to play fetch and tug of war with him. Yes, his mask got covered in slobber, but that was a small price to pay for the affection and games.

When most of the dogs had tired themselves out, Peter went over to the cat room. The worker at the desk had said that the kittens were already getting plenty of socialization, but that the older adult cats could use some more.

Peter had never had a pet growing up, but had always loved animals. He smiled under the mask as he entered the cats’ room, reaching out a hand to pet the closest one curled up on a cat tree, a lanky black one, with bright green eyes that opened slightly as he stroked its back.

A couple were hidden under or behind the chairs in the room, and hissed when Peter came close, their ears pinned back against their heads. Part of Peter wished he could take his mask off, wondering if the cats would be calmer at the sight of a human face instead of the giant white lenses and webbing.

“Gotta say, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Peter jumped slightly, his spidersense not having told him that anyone else was here. He recognized the voice immediately, though, spinning to see MJ in the corner with a fluffy ragdoll flopped over her shoulder, purring like a tank. She has one of their AcaDec study packets in her hands, flipping through without disturbing the living boa draped over her.

She glanced up at him, blowing her hair out of her face as she did so. “Run out of webs to swing from?”

He shook his head, swallowing. When he spoke, he deepened his voice slightly, not wanting her to recognize it as Ben’s–or, even more mortifying, as sounding like her Peter’s.

“Just . . . wanted a distraction from everything, I guess.”

She nodded, eyes back on the study packet. 

“That one’s really cuddly,” she said, right before Peter felt a soft brush against his leg, glancing down at the fat orange creature bonking its face into his calves. “Makes a good lap cat.”

He took the hint after a moment, sitting perpendicular to her, back against one of the armchairs. Almost immediately the orange cat crawled on top of him, practically belly-flopping onto his thighs and shoving its face into his hand for attention. He was more than happy to comply, cooing softly as his own lap-warmer started purring.

“So, is this like, a real thing, or do you plan on giving up the schtick once you stop getting attention as Queen’s newest vigilante?”

He snapped his eyes over to her, eyes wide, but she wasn’t looking at him. He expected it was to show that she didn’t care about his answer, but he knew that wasn’t true. MJ had one of the biggest senses of justice that he knew, and he knew better than anyone how high of a standard she held the heroes of the world–and her city–to.

“It’s real,” he promised, pushing as much genuinity as he could into the words, thinking about the answer he’d given to Mr. Stark so long ago. “I’m not very good at it, all the time. I’ve made some mistakes with the whole–vigilante thing. But I’ll do my best. I’ll do whatever I can, for as long as I can, to make sure that people are safe from whatever bad things I can keep them from.”

He felt her stare at him for a few minutes, eyes narrowed as she stroked a hand over the ragdoll like a cartoon villain. When she spoke, it wasn’t the approval or disapproval that he’d expected.

“You’ve made mistakes–so you’ve done this before?”

Peter froze. “What?”

“By ‘I’ve made some mistakes,’ you can’t be referring to anything you’ve done in the last few days; the worst thing you’ve done then is lose grip on your webs and slam into a wall. Which means this isn’t your first stint as a vigilante.” She tilted her head in thought. “I’ve never heard of Cosmic before last week, though. Which probably means that you tried it out somewhere before you came here, and it didn’t go so well?”

Peter smiled at her detection skills. She wasn’t wrong, after all. “There were high and low moments, for certain.”

“Mm. Why ‘ Cosmic ’”

“Which reason sounds less dorky–that it derives from the name of a jumping spider, or because I came across time and space to don the suit here?”

“Oh, they both sound equally dorky. But that’s okay; I get the feeling you’re kind of a dork under the suit, too.”

Peter chuckled, even as his heart panged to think of all the times that his first MJ had called him a dork outside of the suit.

They stayed there until the shelter closed, petting the cats and shaking squeaky mice at them and dragging strings across the floor. It was only his first time running into her as his vigilante persona, but already he found himself wishing he could tell her the truth.

But how much of it was he willing to tell?

/*/*/*/*/

In the media’s eyes, Tony Stark had never been shy about confronting a business partner or colleague about whatever was currently displeasing him. At home, though? With things that actually mattered ? Those conversations were a bit harder to instigate and endure.When something was on the line, Tony had never been the best at solving the problem correctly, hence why he’d let this problem fester for so long.

He’d been in his lab trying to improve the comms quality for the Peters’ suits–they were good, but they could always be better–when FRIDAY informed him that Morgan needed him upstairs.

A nightmare, probably. She’d had them on and off since Peter snapped, and Peter 616’s stay probably had a hand in them coming back; she’d mentioned them to him a couple of times since his arrival, but this was the first one FRIDAY deemed bad enough for his intervention.

He’d just started up the stairs when FRIDAY updated him that Peter had gone in himself to try and calm her down. He could’ve told the boy himself that that would end badly, but it turned out that Peter found out a couple minutes later, as FRIDAY gave him one last update that Morgan was now in their bedroom with Pepper.

“Okay,” he’d sighed. “Whaddaya say, Fri–should I go help with Morgan, or check on Pete?”

“Morgan is about to fall back asleep with Mrs. Boss, sir, and Peter has gone back out to patrol longer.”

Great. He’d almost forgotten he wasn’t the only superhero in the family that tended to run away when overwhelmed or stressed. 

“Let me know once he comes back, please. I’ll clean up in the morning; it’s past time that I should be in bed anyways.”

“If you insist, Sir.”

By the time he’d arrived at their bedroom, the little miss was very nearly asleep, just awake enough to hold out a beckoning arm to him to climb into bed with them. He’d obliged, knowing his own nightmares would likely be composed of thinking of how he was supposed to fix this rift between his daughter and his newest charge.

The next day didn’t prove to be the best time to have such a conversation, though.

FRIDAY woke him at almost four in the morning to announce that Peter was back in bed after patrol, and Tony knew that meant Peter would probably be up too late to join them for breakfast. And even if he wasn’t, Tony had a meeting to go to right after breakfast that he couldn’t miss. Sure enough, by the time he got back, Peter was long gone on patrol.

And stayed out there, until dinner was almost over. He tucked himself into his room afterwards, claiming he had too much homework, and Tony didn’t see him again until breakfast on Sunday–after which the teenager left again, leaping from the window faster than Tony could say We need to talk. 

Sunday evening, though–now was his chance. 

He’d sent multiple reminder messages through Karen to the Peters so that they’d be here and changed in time for movie night in the Avengers common room. He’d made his messages to Peter 616 a little extra persuasive and pleading, remembering the boy’s hesitance to be in the same room as Morgan the last couple of days.

To his relief, though, Cosmic swung onto the roof ten minutes before they were supposed to start, giving Tony a small, uncertain smile as he went into his room to change.

He reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair as he sat down on a sofa with Natasha, leaning into the touch and keeping his eyes pointedly away from the couch where Peter 599 and Morgan sat, the little girl curled into her older brother’s side.

Tony didn’t say anything. They were in the same room together, and he was more than happy to settle for that for now as the opening credits to Lilo and Stitch started on the screen. 

None of them had eaten dinner before, allowing the mountains of popcorn and snack cakes and the token fruit tray from Steve to complete the movie night feeling; it had taken some special persuasion to get Pepper to agree to the menu on a school night, but Tony insisted that Morgan would be fine. Pepper’s plane from her out-of-state business meeting wouldn’t get back till tomorrow morning anyways, he could parent by himself for one more night.

And anyways, by the time the end credits started, Tony looked over to see her fully limp against Peter 599’s side, his arm around her as she dozed.

“Has she been out long?” He whispered.

Peter shook his head. “Just a couple minutes.”

He nodded. That would hopefully make it easy to put her to bed soon. Before he could offer to take her, Peter 599 stood, carefully picking her up and gesturing that he was going to wake her up a bit and take her to brush her teeth. Tony gave a thumbs-up, saying that he’d be in before she fell back asleep. 

When he turned back, Peter 616 snapped his eyes back to the screen, as if to hide that he’d been watching the interaction. Tony wasn’t fooled; he’d seen the teen’s eyes straying to Morgan more often than Peter would admit to during the movie. 

He scooted closer to the lone Peter as the other Avengers excused themselves to bed, or a late night run, or whatever it was they did at night. 

“I’m glad you joined tonight. The others are too.”

Peter just shrugged. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. It was just a movie.”

“Well, it was a big deal to me, so we’ll leave it at that.” He sighed, trying to choose his words carefully. “I know what happened with you and Morgan Friday night.”

“I’m sorry–”

“No, hey, you don’t need to be sorry. She was upset and you tried to help, that’s a good thing. I should have talked to her more about this sooner, but I know she’s still trying to get used to you being here, and what that means.”

“She’s just a kid, I don’t blame her for being upset that I’m not who she wants me to be.”

“Sure, good, but we can help her see what she can come to love about who you are. ” He stood, knees creaking slightly because he was annoyingly old now. “Thanks for being here, Pete.” And before he could stop himself as he walked over to Morgan’s room, he leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to the older boy’s hair.

“Knock knock?” He tapped softly against the doorframe as he entered Morgan’s bedroom. The slightly-less-sleepy little girl was sitting up against her pillow as the other Peter finished a story, smiling up at him and beckoning him closer over to the bed.

“Hey, princess.” He replaced Peter on the bed when the boy stood, light deja-vu coming over him as he kissed the boy goodnight, warning him to swing home safely. “Wanna say goodnight to Petey?”

“Night, Petey,” Morgan waved, yawning as she turned to face her dad, still sitting up. “Dad?”

“Yes, Morgan?”

“Why do we call the new Peter the same thing they called Stitch in the movie?”

Tony frowned, thinking for a second before he chuckled. “We don’t call him quite the same thing, sweetheart. Stitch was called 626 by the other aliens, we call the new Peter 616. It was the number designation of the universe he came from.”

“Hm.” She snuggled in next to his side. “We should’ve named him after Stitch, instead. He’s came here kinda like an alien, and he’s weird.”

Tony snorted. “I suppose. At least he doesn’t hiss at people and wreck the house.”

She giggled, before going quiet again. “He’s really staying forever?”

“Yes, kiddo. Like Stitch, he needs a home, and a family. We can be that for him. You used to say that you wanted more siblings.”

“Yeah, but he’s–he looks just like Petey, but he isn’t, and it’s weird. He’s not my big brother.”

“He’s not Petey, no. Not exactly, at least. He’s had different things happen to him, and those things have affected him differently. Just . . . don’t think of him as another Petey, okay? It’s more like if Petey had a twin brother or something, and they just happen to have the same name.”

“I guess. I have twins in my class named Haylie and Kaylie. That’s almost the same.”

“Exactly, munchkin. Similar but different. Just like our Peters. Which means they’re going to play with you differently, and talk a bit different, and maybe even like a few different things. Because they’re different people, and we can’t expect them to be exactly the same. It’s not fair to them. Do you understand?”

Morgan nodded, even as she yawned again, this one even bigger than the last.

Man. Tony really needed to stop having these important talks at night.

“It’s okay if it’s hard at first. But I want us to try a bit harder to make sure Peter 616 knows we want him in our family, okay?”

“Mmhm.” She curled up closer to him, slipping her head down to his lap and pulling the blankets up farther. “Just like Stitch.”

She was back asleep within the next minute, effectively trapping Tony on the bed. 

He sighed, but settled in, resigning himself to a bad neck in the morning. Not a bad price to pay after tonight’s successes.

Chapter Text

Ned met her eyes as he entered their preferred study room in the library. “Have you checked yet today?”

She looked pointedly down at her computer screen, a clear message that she was in the middle of doing so now.

“Right.” Ned flopped down beside her. “Sorry. Should’ve guessed.”

MJ just shrugged. Admittedly, Ned’s first guess when he sees her on her computer should probably be that she’s doing homework, or nagging political figures online. Not that she’s trying to stalk some faceless guy she’s never even met. But she supposed that’s the point they’d reached now.

Silence passed for fifteen minutes, until MJ closed her computer with a small huff, scrubbing at her eyes. Ned had come in near the end of the hunt; she’d been staring at the screen for more than two hours, tracing every site she could think of. Just like she had every day, for the last couple of months.

“So . . . ?”

“I don’t know why you’re bothering, Ned.” She stood, dropping her laptop into her bag and pacing the length of the room’s table. “It’s the same as it’s always been, there’s nothing there. And there won’t be tomorrow, or the next day.”

Ned crossed his arms. “Well you don’t have to make it sound so hopeless.”

“Sorry, I don’t remember giving you the impression that I was one for optimism.”

Another long silence, almost long enough for MJ to feel bad about snapping at her friend. It wasn’t his fault, she knew that, but that didn’t make this any less frustrating.

“Why are we even so worried about this?” She asked for the dozenth time. “Neither of us even knew the guy, and I have a paper due in two days. This is stupid.”

Ned just shrugged. “It’s been a while since either of us claimed that this was logical.”

Almost a month and a half, in fact. Since they’d stopped justifying to themselves–and others–what they were doing and just accepted that this was their life now.

“So, if looking online hasn’t done anything for us, then . . . does that mean it’s time for Plan B?”

“Plan B is expensive, and inconvenient, and again, I have a paper due in two days.”

Ned didn’t say anything. He knew she’d continue eventually.

She huffed.

“Grab your wallet. You’re driving first.”

/*/*/*/*/

They only delayed for the time it took to email their professors for their absences and grab what they needed. Without any further discussion they were in her car, the map set to Manhattan. 

“So, you really think Dr. Strange will know what happened to Spiderman? And that he’ll, you know, actually talk to us?” Ned glanced over at her from the driver’s seat where he was taking the first shift. The drive was only about four hours, and they’d swap out before long. Not long enough to nap or anything, but plenty of time to think about what they were trying to do.

MJ had never been a Spiderman superfan like Ned. However, after the battle at the Statue of Liberty–which they still didn’t have a great explanation for at they were doing there–she found herself a little more willing to listen as he rambled about the vigilante, or theorized about the guy’s identity, or posted compilations of his “most epic swings” on YouTube. Sometimes even joining in with her own thoughts. 

Suddenly, seeing him swing across the city was more captivating than inconveniencing. Usually MJ was one of the most critical and annoyed by heroes coming uninvited into people’s personal lives without any sort of government control, but something suddenly made Spiderman . . . different. Seeing him sweeping the sidewalks for convenience store owners and halt traffic to help an injured pigeon across the street was just . . . sweet.

Boston didn’t have any vigilantes–New York was just a statistical outlier, it seemed. For the most part, it’d made life much quieter, much simpler as they’d started their studies and settled into life at MIT. Still, neither could shake the feeling that something was . . . missing. Was wrong. And nothing they did could make the feeling go away. Not studies, or clubs, or parties, or competitions, or exploring the city. It was almost like an itch under their skin, with no way to reach without hurting themselves irreparably. 

A couple weeks into the semester, though, they had found a common activity that helped them relax–one that MJ was almost annoyed worked so well: watching livestreams of Spiderman back in Queens. 

She told herself it was just because the videos reminded her of home, featuring a secondary constant in her life for the last several years. She’d never had any attachment to Spiderman; the only interaction she’d really had with him was when he’d saved her team in DC. There was no reason why videos of the vigilante would put the two of them so at ease.

And yet.

Then two months ago, the livestreams stopped. No new videos were posted online, the content replaced with question forums asking where Spiderman had gone, when he would return, if he was okay.

It hadn’t taken long for the two of them to find the video of Spiderman and Dr. Strange fighting some weird cow-man thing, one of the spots eventually sucking Spiderman into them.

“Is he . . . dead?” Ned had whispered, horror in his voice. MJ hadn’t been able to answer. 

Neither of them had been able to accept the option that Spiderman was dead, though. They’d turned to the internet, scouring every news site and obscure post they could find for any news on the vigilante. Any indication that the cow-man had just teleported Spiderman or something, instead of any worse scenario. 

They’d found nothing. Which left one option: to find the only other person that had been with Spiderman both at the Statue of Liberty and with the cow.

“MJ?” Ned glanced over at her, reminding her that she’d never actually answered his question about the sorcerer.

She glared at the road, imagining Strange’s face in front of her instead of the asphalt. 

“He’d better.”

/*/*/*/*/

The large wooden door to the Sanctum Sanctorum would have been nice to slam her fist against. Too bad that it opened itself like a freaking automatic grocery store door before she got the chance.

“Do you think it does that for everyone?” Ned marveled. “Or are we, like, special? Like being here is part of our destiny or something.”

MJ turned to him, brow raised. “That sounds like a bit much, even for what our world has become.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Their eyes were immediately drawn to the wide staircase in front of them, but instead the sorcerer came out of a hallway to the left, an old-looking tome in his hands.

“Um, we’re sorry to come in here without an appointment or something, Dr. Strange, sir, we weren’t sure–”

Strange snapped the book closed, Ned’s mouth snapping closed with it as he startled slightly from the noise. MJ rolled her eyes to hide a small flinch of her own. She hadn’t known the doctor to be so dramatic. 

“Was that really necessary?”

He smiled at them, tucking the book under his arm and gesturing for them to follow him up the stairs. “Apologies. Come with me. I don’t know how much I believe in destiny myself, but I do agree that you two are special, and the doors let you in for a reason.”

Ned glanced over at her as they started up the steps. “So the doors don’t just automatically open for everyone?”

“No they do not. You’re here to ask about Spiderman, right?” Strange sat down at a set of armchairs at the top of the stairs, gesturing for them to do the same. “After all, that’s what ninety percent of the people coming by the Sanctum are looking for these days.”

MJ sat down, albeit a bit warily. “We’re not the first ones to come asking about Spiderman.”

“No. But, you are the first in a while that the Sanctum have let inside. Now–you know my name, I don’t know yours. If you’re that important, I feel I should know who I’m talking to.”

“I’m Ned Leeds, sir, and this is MJ. We–I mean, you’re right.” He frowned. “We both grew up in Queens before going away for college, but we noticed Spiderman’s disappearance and we’re-we’re really worried about him. We’ve looked everywhere on the internet for any recent information on him, and there’s . . . nothing. We know you were there when he disappeared, though, so we hoped you’d be able to tell us if-if he was okay.”

His voice got quieter and quieter throughout the speech until the last word was hardly audible, though they both knew it was the most important one.

Strange nodded thoughtfully, staring somewhere over their heads. “It’s a bit of a long story. How much time do you have?”

MJ just raised a brow in challenge; they’d waited months already, the length of the explanation was of no consequence to them now. 

Strange didn’t hold anything back from them, for better or worse. They listened along to an explanation that both made sense and . . . didn’t. 

The multiverse was not a mind-breaking concept. There was footage, albeit hard to find, of another Spiderman that had been wandering around New York right before the battle at the Statue of Liberty, and plenty had figured out that a multiversal break in reality was threatening them at the end of the battle, from the views of all the people in the sky, some of which were direct copies of the Vulture or Mysterio, or even of each other. 

Besides, MJ was a scientist first and a superhero conspirator second–she knew as much about the multiverse theory as she could. Mysterio had been fake, sure, but there was nothing stopping her from trusting that there was still more out there. If Strange explained that a multiversal villain had sent Spiderman to another universe in a vindictive rage, they could believe it easily enough.

But the other part . . . 

“No.” Ned shook his head, voicing MJ’s own thoughts. “That’s impossible–we couldn’t have known Spiderman so personally, we couldn’t have been that close with him.”

Strange leaned back, raising his brows. “And why is that?”

Ned’s face tightened with all the distress MJ’s own heart was squeezing at her with. He gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke, his panic leaking out of his movements. “Because–because we’d know! If we were his best friend, his–” he glanced over at MJ for a split second, but she couldn’t manage to meet his eyes. “We’d know. We wouldn’t just forget him! We would have known, we would have stayed and helped him, he wouldn’t–” his voice broke, hand squeezing into a fist.

“He wouldn’t have been alone to fight that monster in the first place,” MJ finished for him softly.

She would have been there.

Strange regarded them for a long time with something like pity, and MJ felt something tight and hot and awful building in her the longer the silence persisted, the longer she was left to think about the potential of the story Strange had relayed.

“Let’s say you’re right,” Strange said at last. “You didn’t know anything about Spiderman apart from purely public knowledge before you came here. So, if you didn’t forget anything, why are you here? Why did you come from your studies to check on the safety of someone you don’t know? Why did the Sanctum let you in here, out of everyone that tried to come ask me about Spiderman?

“And, if there was nothing to forget, then why are you crying?”

He said it just in time for a splash to land against MJ’s jeans, and she gasped, the breath coming out shuddering as she fought to hold the rest in, as if to counter the sorcerer’s words. 

Ned stood, turning his back to them and not quite managing to stifle what sounded like a muffled sob.

MJ didn’t cry for much. For almost anything. She didn’t cry when her parents divorced, when her life was in danger, and she shouldn’t be now. 

But somehow she couldn’t stop.

This couldn’t be real, though. The fear she’d had for Spiderman’s safety, the obsessiveness she’d taken up when the man had disappeared, the sleep she’d lost–she might not have paid as much attention to him before he left, but this wasn’t–it wasn’t personal. She hadn’t left behind someone she’d had that kind of relationship with, someone she would cry for, someone she’d–not after she’d been left behind herself before. She wouldn’t do that.

“You said his name was–his name is Peter?” Ned asked, before burying his head in his hands, mumbling that sounded like “ he’d better not be–if I have to ask the name of my best friend, I’m the worst friend in the world.”

To MJ’s surprise, before she could blink the red cloak around Strange’s shoulders had flown over to Ned, wrapping itself around him almost like a hug.

“Yes,” Strange answered, his voice almost irritatingly light. “Peter Benjamin Parker. 

“Your memory was erased by extremely powerful magic; this is not some fairytale that gets solved by the power of your friendship overcoming the spell. That isn’t how these things work. At least, not entirely.”

“What do you mean, not entirely?”

His lips quirked up at the corner. “You’re here, aren’t you? You never would have remembered specifics, but something in you kept pulling you back to Spiderman, back to this person you didn’t know the name of. Not even that spell could get rid of your feelings about Peter Parker. They were just–harder to access, with those memories gone. It seems that his disappearance was the trigger needed to pull them back to the forefront.”

Too much of MJ wanted to insist that he keep trying, that he find some way– any way–to bring back their memories of Spiderman, of Peter Parker. If knowing would make this awful tightness in her chest go away, she didn’t care what it would take.

Instead, she managed to ask something more important.

She swallowed. “Is he–in that world, is he happy?”

Something in her loosened when Strange nodded, though the motion was a bit too hesitant for her liking.

“The world he ended up in has a lot in common with ours, but it also has much different. People he lost here are still alive there, there are opportunities there he never would have gotten here. I haven’t spoken with Peter since I left him there, but I have stolen glimpses into that world, when possible; he’s supported, and taken care of. Though it’s taken some adjusting, he seems to be happier than I’ve seen Spiderman in a long time.”

And I’ll never see it, was her first thought, and she nearly scowled for it.

He was happy. He was safe. Spiderman wasn’t dead or hurt or any of their other worst-case scenarios. This was what she’d wanted to hear, wasn’t it?

No. Not really. 

“Can we . . .” Ned looked painfully hopeful. “Would we be able to visit somehow? To see him?”

His face fell when Strange shook his head. “I don’t yet have the power to take people apart from myself, even in metaphysical form, across the multiverse.” 

“So then . . . we’ll really never see Spiderman again?”

“Peter Parker is gone from this world forever,” Strange confirmed. “Even if I had the power to bring him back right now, I’m not inclined to make him face that choice. He paused. “If you wanted, though, I’ll find a way to get a non-animate object or two across the barrier; you could write him a message.”

He was offering them a chance to say goodbye.

It wasn’t enough.

It was all they had.

After a moment, Ned nodded tightly. “Thank you, sir. We’d-we’d like that.”

MJ nodded too, standing from her chair, feeling no lighter than when she’d arrived. 

Strange said nothing as they left; no last comforts or platitudes. Just flicked his wrist to summon his cloak back over to him, the garment wrapping once more around Ned and swishing around MJ quickly before returning to the sorcerer.

The Sanctum doors were soft as they closed behind them, yet it sounded as loud and heavy as the pounding in MJ’s chest.

/*/*/*/*/

Dark purple streaks painted the sky as Ned looked out over the rooftop, MJ beside him. Neither had spoken more than ten words apiece in the last several hours, heads bent low over notebooks they’d picked up at a convenience store, the only sound the scratching of their pens against the paper. Neither had been able to articulate why they’d immediately headed to the roof of Midtown High, but they could harbor a guess now.

There’d been an absence in his life–in both of theirs–since the Statue of Liberty. While he was relieved to have answers, something in him shriveled to learn that that absence would never truly be filled again. Not the same way, at least. 

He had a name, though. It was more than he’d had before.

He glanced over at his friend, only to see her fiddling with the cracked necklace she’d worn for so long. Ned’s eyes widened a bit; neither of them knew where it’d come from, but with what they’d just learned–

“MJ,” he said. “Do you think Peter Parker gave you your necklace?”

She glanced down at the pendant, her face tightening. “It’d make sense. Explains why I kept it so long.”

What other parts of their life did they just–not know now, after they’d been forced to forget Peter Parker? Would there be things that, even now that they knew of Peter’s existence, they’d just never figure out?

He looked down at his message. Peter deserved better than some college-bound notebook paper they’d gotten for less than two dollars, but something told him the man would understand.

“Think he’ll be able to write back?”

MJ shrugged, holding her necklace tighter now.

Ned didn’t know either. He turned back to the cityscape in front of him, and found he almost didn’t want the answer.

Chapter Text

“Come on, Ned, it really won’t do you any good to keep pouting about it.”

Gwen dug around in the enormous popcorn bucket they’d been sharing, searching for the leftover M&Ms that had fallen to the bottom. Peter 599 immediately rose to the occasion, pulling out another candy box he’d gotten as an extra; Peter shook his head at the contented blush on his counterpart’s face when Gwen gasped and smiled in delight.

Ned was not to be deterred, though. He threw his hands into the air. “It was an abomination, though! The comic series was brilliant, and that-that–” Peter had to hold in a smile as Ned’s raging sense of injustice at the new movie they’d just finished rendered him speechless for a moment, “--that was pathetic! Horrendous! An insult! MJ, back me up here.”

MJ shook her head with very little sympathy as she tossed her soda can in the recycling outside the theater. “I haven’t watched a movie adaptation in five years because of adapted inconsistencies, and you know it. This is your fault for having too much faith in Hollywood.”

“At least it was fun, though,” Peter lightly bumped Ned in the shoulder. “It was a bad adaptation, yeah, but it wasn’t too bad of a movie in itself. I had a good time.”

To be fair, though, his qualifications for “a good time” were pretty easy to meet here. He still wasn’t fully adjusted to the idea of rejoining his own friend group, or sometimes feeling like he was competing with another version of himself for his friends or family, but he was getting there. Every day, especially on those that felt harder than others, he reminded himself of the important things: Tony was alive, the Avengers were together, May was alive, his friends were here to know him in any capacity again, and he’d even gained a new friend in Gwen.

Learning to be friends with Gwen was both harder and easier than with Ned and MJ here; he didn’t have the preconceived notions to contend with here, didn’t have to be bothered like when Ned and MJ had slightly different memories of events than him. But as the two of them and the rest of the Academic Decathlon team had been his only friends throughout high school, he quickly found he was a bit out of practice when it came to getting to know people; for obvious reasons, he was pretty sure Peters 2 and 3 didn’t count. 

But Gwen, not aware of the awkwardness occasionally caused by multiversal inconsistencies, seemed perfectly excited to get to know him and become friends, and he was grateful for it every day. 

“Whatever you say,” Ned grumbled, still borderline sulking.

They didn’t talk about the movie for too much longer–Ned was too focused on the changes made by the film studio to focus on any discussion about the plot twist or love triangle–and only a few minutes later Peter 599 glanced at his watch with a sigh.

“I need to go; Abe and I are partners for that physics project, and we’re a bit behind. Well, more than a bit. We’re starting it at the library in fifteen minutes. But it’s fine!”

Gwen just shook her head. “You’re both ridiculous. Mind if I tag along for the walk, though? I have to find this book my little brother was looking for, and I need a couple more for myself, too.” Peter had just enough time to nod with a hopeful smile before Gwen was turning to MJ. “You coming with, M?”

MJ flashed Peter the smallest smirk–the glint in her eyes letting him know that she definitely knew about Peter 599’s crush–before agreeing, and the three of them waved goodbye as they went off in the opposite direction.

After a moment of awkward silence, Ned and Peter began walking, too. 

Peter swallowed, unsure of what to say. It had been years since he’d felt this hesitant around his best friend, especially since here there was little reason for it. He already knew everything this Ned liked and disliked, what worried him, what he wished for, and a lot of his past. 

It was just that Ned didn’t know that stuff about Peter.

He knew Ben Reilly’s fake past, or at least as many details as they’d gotten around to peppering into conversations so far. Some of his likes, dislikes, favorite foods; they’d been sure to modify them from Peter 599’s preferences, while still not quite lying. 

“Remind me, is it your mom or dad that works in R&D?”

Peter blinked, glancing over at Ned. “Um, mom.”

“Right.” Peter had mentioned at one point that Ben Reilly’s parents were divorced and his mom had sole custody; Tony had figured it’d make the cover story easier, to just have to worry about accounting for the fake details of one parent. 

Peter was in the middle of trying to come up with something else to say– it should not be this hard to talk to his best friend –when Ned blurted “do you want to make a handshake with me?”

“What?”

Ned blushed. “Peter and I have our own secret handshake that we do–I’m sure you’ve seen it a few times by now–and I figured you and I should have one.”

“But isn’t that a special thing, just between you and Peter?”

“Ours is,” Ned shrugged. “We made it in middle school between us. I tried to make one with the girls, but MJ thinks she’s too cool for secret handshakes, and Gwen has shockingly bad hand-eye coordination when it comes to these things; you’ve probably noticed that she and I usually just salute each other instead or something. But I thought it’d be fun if you and I had one, too–if, I mean, you’re okay with that, I know we haven’t known each other that long, and I guess it is a little dorky, but–”

“No,” Peter cut him off, before realizing it sounded like a refusal. “I mean, no, that-that sounds cool.” He smiled, despite having to force his voice to not shake. “We should do one.”

“Awesome! So I was thinking it could start like this–”

Nearly fifteen minutes passed as they bounced ideas off each other and practiced, each fumbling with the new routine more times than not. Peter couldn’t help a few giggles as their hands passed by each other or Peter had to stop himself from instinctively doing their old handshake; his spidersense reflexes weren’t as helpful in committing the new moves to muscle memory. 

“Okay,” Ned said, a bit breathless from his own laughter. “One more time. I think we’ve just about got it.”

Peter nodded, doing his best to school his features as they reset their hands. With only a moment’s hesitation they were able to complete the routine this time. It also ended with a fist bump, except with a jellyfishing motion instead of finger guns. Peter grinned, though with a bittersweet churn in his gut. 

He wouldn’t forget he and Ned’s first handshake, he promised himself. If needed, he could always do it more with Peter 599. This Ned was here, though, and offering a part of his friendship Peter hadn’t been sure he’d get back. No way was he going to pass it up. 

“Why, though?” He couldn’t help but ask. “I mean, like you said, we haven’t known each other long.”

Ned thought about it for a moment before simply shrugging again. “You know, I’m not sure. Just felt right, I guess.” He chuckled. “Sorry, I know it sounds really cheesy, but it kinda does. Feel right. You being here, meeting us. I’m glad you and your mom moved here–and not just because it means you get to tell me under-the-table R&D secrets about Stark Industries.”

Peter forced a small, huffed laugh, even as he was reeling inside. Feels right. Surely Ned couldn’t mean that?

Even if he didn’t, though, even if he was just exaggerating or something, Peter couldn’t hold in a small smile. “I’m glad I came here, too.”

/*/*/*/*/

It was late when he got back to the tower. He’d gone on patrol before changing back into civilian wear and heading back, making sure to text Tony when he planned to be back. The man had sent back a thumbs-up, but Peter was still sure to be quiet when the elevator doors opened, not wanting to wake anyone up.

He set his backpack on the floor by his nightstand, and was about to fall into bed after the full day when his eyes landed on a thick envelope sitting on the pillow, his name written in familiar handwriting. Two familiar handwritings, he noted as he picked it up, his first name written in MJ’s hand in his last in Ned’s.

A stone sank into his stomach. The Ned and MJ here didn’t know him as Peter Parker.

He couldn’t say exactly, but later he might have estimated that he stood there for at least five minutes without moving, hardly breathing. The very air around him might have stood still, holding its breath and waiting for him to do something with the paper.

When he did move to open the envelope, it took four tries, his hands shaking too fiercely to get a good grip on anything. 

Apart from something hard at the bottom of the envelope, there were three papers inside, one considerably shorter than the others. He took that one out first, smoothing it down and blinking in an effort to make the words appear clearly.

Peter. I’m sorry this is so sudden. They needed to do this, and I think you need it too. On the back of this are a series of runes; inscribe those on another piece of paper if you ever want me to take a message back. I don’t usually offer my services as a postman, but I think we can make an exception here sometimes.

This is a good thing. Whether you see that yet or not.

Stephen Strange

They. 

Peter’s breath hitched before going nearly still as he reread the words, staring at the envelope like it was a live bomb. This . . . this wasn’t part of the plan. They could never be part of the plan, that was the whole point. 

Yet he couldn’t stop his hands from pulling out the other two, much longer letters, holding them down against the blankets and struggling to keep them still, to keep his vision clear. His eyes darted between each of them as if trying to soak them in simultaneously, like they’d vanish before his eyes if he gave them enough time to.

The beginning lines of each were scratched out, their author questioning their words over and over again, and once they started they came faster and faster, letters slanting into each other and smudging. Like the sender, too, had worried that they were running out of time.

Peter Parker. 

Peter Parker–

Something felt right when Strange first told us your name–

I couldn’t believe a lot of the story Strange told us about you at first–

I’m sorry–

We should have been there–

I’m so happy you’re not actually dead–

Peter flinched at the first tear-drop that marred the notebook paper, pulling away to scrub at his eyes. He couldn’t afford for the ink to run, for these to be damaged. He couldn’t–this was all he had, and he’d never even thought he’d get this much.

He had to stop himself from balling the notes into his fist and clutching them to his chest, settling for the gesture with an empty hand as he sat down on the edge of the bed. 

He’d suspected the memory spell would have had some adverse effects on their emotions and manner, but had hoped it would fade with time, wouldn’t really hurt them. Had they really been at MIT this whole time, worrying over him and missing Spiderman without even knowing why? Ned’s posts had always looked so carefree, but maybe that had been wishful thinking. Of course Peter would cause them distress even when giving everything up to protect them.

You could never really protect them.  

No, he couldn’t. And now here he was, a universe away making handshakes with Ned– oh my gosh he’d replaced Ned–and watching dumb movies with his better self while the two living people in his world most important to him had worried and thought him dead for months, now with an explanation that did nothing to help them–and he was no longer sitting on the bed but had hit the ground with a thud to his knees, no longer breathing steady but hitched, uneven breaths filling his ears like the wheezing of a beached whale–

“Petey?”

He wanted to snap his gaze towards her but couldn’t quite manage it, only managing to flinch back against the bed as soft, slipper-clad feet pattered towards him.

“Petey, what’s wrong? Should FRIDAY get Mommy and Daddy?”

That managed to break him out a little, and he gasped out a breath and a “no” at the same time, leaning his head back against the bed. “No, Morgan, you don’t need to get them. They don’t need to bother with this.”

The feet stopped a few feet from him, and he squinted one eye open, struggling a bit to make out her silhouetted form in the dim light of the bedroom. It was bad enough that he’d woken her up, she probably hadn’t been asleep long and she’d reported having a rough day at school earlier. Now, her hair was mussed and her nightgown rumpled as she rubbed at her eyes, frowning as she looked closer at him. 

“You’re crying.” It was somewhere between a statement and a question, and she took a hesitant step forward as she said it. “You weren’t breathing.” Real statement this time, but said even more hesitantly. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing, you should go back to bed, got stuck in his throat. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to push it out, trying to push her out, because he’d earned this, hadn’t he? Earned this pain of failure yet again, earned this deep pang in his chest he couldn’t seem to deep-breath his way out of. 

If Tony and Pepper saw those notes, they’d know. They’d know just how badly he hurt his friends, they’d ask what had happened, and Peter knew–he knew he’d end up spilling it all, that it would gush out like a burst pipe with the start of one word.

“I can’t–” he shook his head. He couldn’t.

Please don’t make me.

He keeps shaking his head as Morgan takes another step forward, and then another. Her hands are slow as they reach out, but sure as they wrap around his shoulders, slotting her head against his neck and forcing his head still.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to do this, M-Morgan. I know I’m not your real brother.”

She shrugged after a moment, her jaw jutting against his neck as she yawned. “But you’re kinda like Petey’s twin, and Haylie and Kaylie aren’t exactly the same, so neither are you. Just different-er in a weirder way. You’re still nice, though. If you’re Petey’s twin, and he’s my big brother, then you can be my big brother too.”

He swallowed hard. It sounded a bit too good to be true, and if it weren’t for the letters on his bed proclaiming it a nightmare, he might think he was dreaming.

Morgan pulled back after a moment, still frowning. “You never told me why you were crying. Was being Spiderman–I mean, your other name–bad today?”

“No, it was–it was good. I hung out with your brother, and his friends. They’re really nice.”

“And that . . . made you sad?”

“No, no, it was . . . fun. But being with them made me think–made me think of my old friends, back in my first universe. I miss them. And–and I found out that–that they were missing me, too. That they were . . . sad I was gone.”

Somehow, Morgan’s frown grew even deeper. “Why wouldn’t they be sad? They’re your friends. They wouldn’t be very good friends if they weren’t sad.”

And they were the best friends.

“I-I know. It’s just–complicated. Really complicated. And I always hate it when my friends are sad and there’s no way I can help them.”

“Prob’ is though,” she yawned again. “Usually is.”

Peter watched her sway the slightest bit on her feet, rubbing at her eyes, still so full of sleep. His chest still panging painfully, he shifted, pushing her away slightly.

“You should go back to sleep, Morgs.”

“Mm.” She narrowed her eyes at him slightly before apparently deciding that her room was much too far away to bother with, instead climbing onto his bed, having just enough space of mind to shove away the letters before flopping down and pulling the blanket over herself.

Peter sighed, not making a move to join her. Instead, he reached up and grabbed the two letters, setting the envelope on the nightstand next to him.

Hands still slightly trembling, he smoothed out the letter from Ned first, biting his lip and preparing for the next while.

They were the best friends, and he hated to have it confirmed that his absence had hurt them so badly, but this was the first he’d heard of his Ned and MJ in over a year, and he’d never forgive himself if he let it go to waste.

/*/*/*/*/

Tony was just glad it wasn’t a school day.

Upon waking up from far too little sleep, FRIDAY had helpfully let him know that Morgan had gotten up out of bed last night because she’d heard Peter in distress and gotten concerned, and had stayed there for the rest of the night. When asked why FRIDAY hadn’t alerted him and Pepper to the situation, the AI had the audacity to say “Peter said she didn’t need to get you, and subsequent events implied the little miss had the situation handled well enough.”

After a moment of debate, he knocked softly on the door, frowning when he got no response. While his senses weren’t always quite as strong as Peter 599’s, 616 was an extremely light sleeper, and he would have woken easily from the knock.

Opening the door didn’t make him feel any better. Morgan was indeed asleep on Peter’s bed, a lock of hair stuck in her mouth as she snored, one of Peter’s pillows clutched to her chest like a teddy. She lay on the side of the bed closest to the door, and closest to Peter, her arm flopped over the bed and resting on Peter’s shoulder. 

Peter himself was still asleep, though far less peacefully. He was slumped over at the side of the bed, his neck hanging by his shoulder at an angle that made Tony wince. 

The reason for such a horrible sleeping position became a bit clearer as Tony leaned forward, intending to nudge the boy awake, his eyes instead catching on a few pieces of notebook paper in Peter’s hands, slightly wrinkled and spotted in one place with what Tony was vainly hoping weren’t tears. Given the dried tracks down Peter’s cheeks, though, he wasn’t putting much stock in the idea.

Breakfast first. Then whatever this is. 

Ever so gently, Tony reached to pull the papers from Peter’s hands, only for it to stick to his fingers, and he froze when Peter scrunched his brows, leaning away from him. 

Okay, he mentally recalculated. Not taking the papers now, then. 

Skipping to step two, Tony took a deep breath before slipping his arms around Peter, one behind his back and one under his knees. Cursing his fifty-four year old back, he held back a groan as he hefted the kid up, setting him down as carefully as possible onto the bed next to Morgan. Peter stirred slightly, but it was a testament to how tired he must have been when he just curled a little closer around the papers and went back to sleep. 

Closing the door gingerly behind him, Tony sighed as he stared into the coffee machine. One kid that had read something distressing enough to bring him to tears, and one that clearly knew something about it and would be concerned when they woke up. 

He set the coffee to double strength. Maybe it would be more effective to just spoon the grounds into his mouth for this one.

Pepper came out of her office where she’d been catching up on some work emails as Tony was finishing the eggs, and pouring more batter into the waffle maker. 

“The kids aren’t up yet?”

He shook his head. 

“Something happened last night, and FRIDAY apparently thinks it better that we wait for the kids to tell us themselves. Morgan fell asleep in Peter’s room last night, and Peter didn’t even wake up when I went in there.”

“Did something happen when he was with Pete and their friends yesterday? Or on patrol?”

“599 didn’t text or anything, if something had happened. And I expect Karen would have notified me, if something really bad had happened on patrol.”

His mind flashed back to those papers stuck to Peter’s hands, but he wasn’t sure how to bring them up. He hadn’t even been able to see who they were from, and what could be so bad to make Peter that upset?

They got a bit of the answer ten minutes later as Morgan stumbled out of the bedroom, plodding over to the island and laying her face down in her hands. 

Glancing over at Pepper, Tony slid over a plate of eggs in offering. “Sleep okay in there, mongoose?”

She picked her head up, pouting as she dragged the fork through the eggs. “The new Petey’s friends made him sad.”

So it was something with 599’s friends? “What friends? What happened?”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, squinting as she shoveled in more food, fueling her brain to think back to the night before. “His old friends, he said. From his first world. He said they miss him, and he looked surprised.” She glared up at them, her little brows furrowed. “Why would he be surprised? They should miss him, if he’s here now. And if they miss each other so much, why’d he have to leave in the first place?”

The exclamation, punctuated by a thump of her fist on the counter, was offset a bit by the huge yawn she let out afterwards, returning to her food with a glare. Not waiting for an answer, as if she suspected they didn’t have one. 

Tony wished the suspicion wasn’t valid. For all the time Peter 616 had been here, they 

still knew frustratingly little about his life in his home world, and what they did know wasn’t good. 616’s Ned and MJ were alive, Tony knew, but Peter hadn’t seen them in a long time, for a reason he’d never found out. 

Seemed like a good time to finally get an answer. 

He glanced over at Pepper, and they had a quick conversation with their eyes, Morgan glaring up at the when she realized what they were doing, not appreciating being left out.

Trying to assuage his daughter’s ire, Tony leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “I’m going to go check on your new brother, sweetheart. You stay here with Mom, we don’t want Pete to feel crowded, okay?”

Looking slightly mollified, Morgan nodded, stabbing her fork into another egg and watching Tony as he went over to the bedroom door. 

“FRI?” Tony whispered in the hall, just outside the door. “Is he up?”

“ Yes, sir ,” she responded just as quietly. “I suggest you proceed with a bit of caution. ”

Had the AI had a physical body to aim towards, Tony would have mocked her; she knew what had happened in that bedroom last night, and had chosen not to tell him. He could only hope it had been the right decision. His AI was loyal, wise and protective, yes, but she was still fallible, just as much as he himself was. 

“Pete?” He knocked gently on the door. “Can I come in, bud?”

He didn’t hear anything, but after a moment FRIDAY onced again whispered “ he’s nodding, sir.”

Taking a deep breath, he nodded, pushing the door open.

It hardly looked like Peter had moved from when Tony had moved him not long ago, still on his side curled around the letters, the envelope they must have come in right next to him. 

“Can I sit?”

Peter  nodded once more, and Tony sat gingerly on the side of the bed, wishing the words bouncing through his head were as easy to connect as the pieces of his Iron Man armor. 

“How’s your neck feeling?”

Tony mentally patted himself on the back when the kid’s lips quirked upwards, though it was offset by worry of how exhausted Pete sounded when he responded. “I’ve got quick healing.”

“No kidding.” He took a deep breath. “Are the letters really from your friends on Earth 616?”

“And Dr. Strange.” Peter tossed a much shorter letter at him, and Tony scoffed at vague, lack of an explanation.

“Bastard. He knew what he was doing by not offering me a message service.”

Peter nodded.

Hoping his next question wasn’t pushing too far too fast, Tony scooted closer to the headboard, placing a hand gently in Peter’s curls.

“We’ve been really careful, not to push too much when it comes to your past. Unfortunately, I’m not sure I can put off asking any longer. Kid . . . why had you gone so long without contacting Ned and MJ, when you left your world? What . . . what happened?”

After a moment of heavy silence, Peter slowly sat up, like his limbs were full of molasses. He pulled his knees to his chest, setting his chin on top. He took a deep breath, looking straight down at his feet, anywhere but at Tony.

“It was all my fault.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to judge that one for myself. We all know how self-deprecating you can be sometimes.”

“Sure, but this–I was so stupid. I was panicking, and I didn’t think anything through, and in the end my careless actions got MJ thrown off the Statue of Liberty by a guy with a goblin’s voice in his head.”

Unsure what to say to that, Tony was glad when Peter took pity, glancing over at him and adding on “she was okay. Another Spiderman caught her in time.”

“Okay. That’s–that’s good.” He took a deep breath. Say it all at once, say it in clear words and then no take-backsies. 

“Peter. We don’t need to know everything, of course, but . . . just tell me enough that I’ll understand. What happened to make you have to leave your friends before you were brought here?”

Another long pause, the kid’s shoulders tensing in thought–or perhaps just in preparation to tell the tale.

“I guess it started when my identity got leaked to the world, and everyone thought I was a mass murderer.” His eyes flicked over to Tony, the smallest spark glinting in them. “And before you ask, that story has to wait for another day.”

Despite the story’s ominous start, Peter had no choice but to draw the story out, hesitating at the details of several spots, or his words catching in his chest at others. Tony could tell he was leaving some details out, but he had said he didn’t need all the details–as long as he understood enough to help now.

And what he did hear was painful enough. Watching Peter’s face heat with shame as he recounted his mistakes, hearing his stutter as he described each of the multiversal  villains that were brought to Earth 616, and the other Spidermen he’d met not long afterwards.

At the story’s end, Peter sat stiffly, eyes far from Tony’s own, his jaw tight. Regret, guilt, defensiveness swirled like a cloud around his head, and Tony licked his lips, trying to think of the right thing to say.

“There must have been another way to stop the invasion, apart from making everyone–everyone forget you,” probably wasn’t the right thing, but Tony wasn’t able to bite his lip shut in time. Peter didn’t get angry, though, just shrugged.

“If there were, I didn’t think of them in time. And it doesn’t matter. This was the way to keep Ned and MJ safe.”

“But you were alone . . . what about your–”

“What about who ?” Peter would’ve snapped, if his voice wasn’t so choked. Tears glittered in his eyes when he faced Tony at last. “May was dead, half the school thought I was a killer–and I know I haven’t talked about them, but the Avengers are barely a thing in that world anymore after you died using the stones.” He drew a shuddering breath, chest heaving; Tony’s chest was tight, mouth dry and wordless.

“At that point, what was a couple more losses?”

Tony’s heart cracked at the exhaustion in his poor kid’s voice, the resignation. That tone of voice should never come out of any Peter Parker.

Slowly, giving him time to pull away, Tony reached out his left arm, draping it across the kid’s shoulders. Peter stiffened at first, before letting himself go slightly limp, burrowing into Tony’s chest.

“It’s true, you made some mistakes,” Tony conceded. “And maybe things would have turned out differently if you hadn’t made those mistakes. But that doesn’t mean you deserve to be alone. It doesn’t mean you deserve to be hurting like this.”

Unsurprisingly, no answer met him, just another shaking breath, Peter’s shoulders trembling under Tony’s arm.

“I know it hurts, knowing that your friends miss you back there. I’m glad to know they seem to be as awesome as the ones here.”

“Don’t wanna feel like I’m replacing them,” he heard, muffled.

“You’re not. I promise, you’re not.” He glanced down at the note from the wizard. On the one part that really mattered to him right now. “I think you should take Dumbledore’s offer. Write back. I know you can’t have them back, not really, but they want to know you again, and you deserve to talk to them again.

“Now,” he switched tactics, squeezing Peter’s shoulder slightly. “How about this: we go out to the kitchen, eat some breakfast, and possibly see if your little sister needs a hug from one of us. She’s a bit worried about you.”

“Sorry.”

“No, not what I meant. Are you ready?”

After a long moment, Peter uncurled, eyes still towards the bed. “There-there was something else, in the envelope. I was . . . I was too scared to open it myself last night.”

Tony took the cue, taking the envelope in his hand and holding it between them. “Okay. Do you want me to do it, or do you want to open it now?” 

“Can you?”

“Of course, bud.” Despite his reassurances, Tony felt his own heartbeat quicken as he reached into the simple envelope, pulling out a small, lightweight chain.

Attached to the chain was a single black flower petal, and a green lightsaber. Peter gasped when he saw them, reaching out and taking the necklace in his hands with more care than he would a baby bird. He cradled it to his chest, right over his heart, like it alone could heal the cracks inside it. 

“They didn’t–they shouldn’t–”

“They do,” Tony cut him off, although not altogether sure what he was promising. He wasn’t sure what the items signified, exactly, but could guess. 

He shifted his arm more securely around his kid, and held him as he cried. 

Breakfast could wait, for just a bit longer.

/*/*/*/*/*/

“I brought you some street corn.”

Peter narrowed his eyes as Natasha sat next to him on the rooftop, a plastic cup held out in offering. He vaguely wondered how she had ascended the fire escape with both cups in her hands, but soon waved the thought away with the answer of: She’s Natasha.

“Should you really be up here right now? I’m not in my Cosmic suit.”

She shrugged as she started eating. “You’re also not in your Ben Reilly mask. You look

like your Peter Parker self, who, it is relatively well-known, has an internship with Tony Stark. Not that big of a deal if people see me up here with you. Besides, you chose this area because the only cameras nearby haven’t worked for at least a year.”

Touche. With no good answer, Peter shrugged back, spooning up some of his own corn. They’d used to have this vendor in Earth 616, he was pretty sure, but he’d never seen the vendor again after the Blip.

The sun had set fully in the sky by the time Peter got up the courage to speak again, his eyes trained on his now-empty cup, on the streaks of pink and orange in the sky, on the birds pecking at a squirrel carcass on another rooftop. Anywhere but at the Avenger’s ever-piercing gaze.

“You told me to update you in a few weeks.”

“I did.”

“It’s . . .” he trailed off, taking a deep breath. And another. After one more, he continued, “better, I think. Gwen’s nice, and it’s fine getting to know her. Ned and MJ, they’re–” he swallowed, trailing off once more.

Natasha didn’t prompt him to continue, simply flicking the last vestiges of her corn at the still-eating birds with her spoon as she waited for him to gather his nerve.

Eventually, he told of getting more involved with the Academic Decathlon team here. Of finding it easier to respond when people at school–even Ned and MJ–called him Ben, though it still felt odd. Of making a new secret handshake with Ned, and the envelope he’d come to in his bedroom afterward.

He fingered the chain around his neck as he finished the recollection of updates for the assassin. He’d vowed to never take it off unless absolutely necessary. It was the last gift he’d ever receive from the most important people alive to him in Earth 616, and it had quickly become one of the most precious things he owned. 

MJ’s flower didn’t exist here, with Peter 599’s affections focused elsewhere. And a Lego lightsaber was common enough to have. These things could be just his, just theirs together across the worlds, and he wasn’t letting them go again.

“I never thought I’d get to talk to them again. I never thought . . . I never thought they’d want to. And I guess I’ve also been worried that I’ve–that I’ve replaced them, by coming here and making friends with the ones here.”

“If Morgan isn’t replacing Peter 599 with you as her new brother, then I don’t think you’re replacing your friends either. It’s more like an addition.”

Peter frowned. “That’s not the same. For it to be an addition there has to be both of them–Morgan has both of us here with her, but my Ned and MJ are still back in our old world.”

Natasha’s eyes flicked down to the necklace he was still holding. “I’d say you have both versions here with you as much as possible. You are going to write them back, right?”

He nodded. “Not sure what, exactly, though.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t think that part matters as much.”

He huffed, though didn’t argue.

“Things are better,” he said at last. “Still different. But I’m adjusting. I’ll . . . I’ll be okay.”

She smiled, and rose to her feet, holding out a hand. “Now, would Peter Parker like a ride back to the tower?”

He grinned back, reaching out to take her hand when a live report from the Daily Bugle appeared on a nearby billboard. Peter frowned on instinct, even more so as he registered Jameson’s words.

“You heard that right, folks! The city’s newest web-slinging menace isn’t the hero he’s tried to make us think he is. Footage has just come in of him threatening and robbing a downtown bank; I can’t say I’m surprised at this turn of events. Johnson, let’s play the footage.”

Chapter Text

Peter couldn’t recall how he’d ended up back at the tower, though he imagined being dazedly pulled back to Natasha’s motorcycle and speeding away from the news, his mind stuck on a repeat of the last time that he’d been accused of a crime that he hadn’t committed.

He barely felt present in the tower as it was now, his head strangely floaty as he spiraled, body light like his soul could detach from his skin if he just gave it another minute or so . . . 

He jolted slightly as something hot and soft was pressed into his hands, blinking and looking down at the weighted, warmed stuffed cat his arms had instinctively curled around. The couch under him suddenly felt a lot more solid, and the lightness of his head was replaced with a dull headache. 

The cat was gray and heavy in his arms, and Peter blinked as he looked up. Morgan stood a couple feet from the couch, her arms halfway out like she hadn’t put them back all the way after handing him the cat. Guilt sank into his stomach when he registered the concern in her eyes and the frown pulling down her lips.

“Thanks, Morgan.” He was glad to say that his voice was only a bit shaky.

She nodded. “Daddy showed me how to put it in the microwave safely to warm it up. Did she help?”

He nodded back, forcing himself to smile a bit. “Yeah, she did. Thanks.”

“--but you’ve gotta tell me what’s going on!”

Peter turned around, facing the elevator just as Peter 599 and Tony stepped out of it, his alternate’s eyes wide. He was still in his spidersuit, sparkly shards of what Peter hoped weren’t glass shining on the fabric.

Tony scrubbed a hand down his face. “We don’t know what’s going on, kid.” He turned to Peter. “I’m sorry, sixer, we’re going to figure this out.” He pointed to Peter 599, seeing Peter’s confusion. “Your idiot twin here got so panicked by the news that he swung straight through my bullet-proof windows instead of asking Karen or FRIDAY to open it for him.”

Peter 599 crossed his arms. “Perfectly reasonable panic. And you have to let me help. I can help! Do you think it’s another multiversal variant?” The kid turned to Peter. “That could be it, right? Like a you that went evil?”

“I don’t think so,” Peter muttered, pulling the cat a bit closer. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Morgan look a bit more satisfied, even as she went over to her dad and held out her hands to be picked up. “I chose that costume and name very specifically, due to very specific events and people. And I never would have changed my suit design and name in the first place if I didn’t come here.”

“Besides,” Tony added, hefting Morgan onto his hip. “I’m pretty sure Strange would have contacted us to complain or something by now if there was another multiversal you running around.”

“Maybe you just did it on accident,” Morgan piped up. “Like in your sleep or something.”

The idea was almost enough to make Peter snort. Well, crazier things had happened. “I’m afraid we can disprove that theory, Morgs. Your Aunt Nat was sitting by me when it was reported. She’s my witness that I’m innocent.”

Not that his innocence had mattered last time. His stomach tightened again.

Tony glanced at him, and Peter could practically hear his thoughts. Probably remembering the stupid start to their conversation last night. Peter looked away.

“Okay, so if it’s not the multiverse, maybe it’s a shapeshifter,” Peter 599 said. “Like those guys Captain Marvel knows. Or time travel! We know that’s possible. It could be a you from the future!”

“Why would Peter from the future need to rob a bank?” Tony fixed him with a flat, unimpressed stare.

“I don’t know. But it’s possible, somehow, probably.”

Peter sighed. He just wished he had more information. Natasha was on the phone with Fury, and Pepper was anonymously contacting the manager of the bank to get the security camera footage. Tony didn’t want Cosmic leaving the tower until they knew a bit more details. For now, there was nothing to do but wait.

“Sir, there’s something you’ll want to see on The Daily Bugle news site. I’m turning it on now.”

They all turned to the TV, Peter’s stomach already churning. News from The Daily Bugle had never meant anything good for him.

This time wasn’t any different.

An ever-familiar figure in green, scaled armor and a gold breastplate was standing right next to Jameson, his purple cape flared out behind him. His face was covered by that horrible, clouded blue helmet, faint trails of green smoke drifting out around him.

Peter jolted up off the couch, the cat falling to the floor with a plop. The sounds of the TV muted slightly over the roaring in his ears, and the sudden drumming of his heartbeat. 

“I didn’t trust this ‘Cosmic’ from the moment he showed up,” Peter shuddered at the sound of the man’s voice. “Clearly, though, none of the so-called ‘heroes’ in this city are going to step up and take care of this criminal. That’s why I have taken charge, in order to rid Queens of the danger known as Cosmic. And if he doesn’t think I’m serious, then he can meet me on top of the Brooklyn bridge tomorrow morning.”

“What?” Peter could vaguely hear Peter 599 cry out. “Who is this guy? Tony, have you ever heard of him?” He didn’t hear Tony’s response, if one was given. Couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen.

“Well, you heard it here, folks. There’s a new hero in town–a real hero, that isn’t afraid to stand up against these vigilantes. Thank you for coming here; Queens is lucky to have you.” Jameson stood. “Tell me, when the citizens see you out in the streets, bringing this city to rights, what name will they be cheering?”

“Oh, Mr. Jameson, I’m not in this for the praise. But if the people want to greet me,”

Peter watched the hands reach up and pull off the rounded helmet, meeting the eyes that had starred in so many of his nightmares.

“They can call me Mysterio.”

/*/*/*/*/

“Peter?”

Tony did his best to take a deep breath, glancing back to make sure Peter 599 was keeping Morgan back. Peter 616 had snapped right after the man–Mysterio, Tony supposed, no matter how dorky the name sounded–had taken off his fishbowl of a helmet, choking out a cry and moving almost inhumanly quick to his room. The door slammed hard enough behind him to make the walls shudder, and Tony followed after him just in time to see him finish screaming into his pillow, only to throw it at the wall hard enough to break through it.

Okay. That was a new demonstration of the kid’s strength, if a bit unorthodox.

“Hey,” he did his best to make sure his voice wasn’t too soft or patronizing. “Don’t worry about that guy, okay, kid? We aren’t going to let him do anything to you, or to Cosmic. We’ll prove that wasn’t you, and figure out what’s going on here with that Mysterio guy.”

“Beck,” Peter rasped.

“What?”

“His name is Quentin Beck. He used to be an employee here at Stark Industries, he-he has something against me, he–I ruined everything –”

“Okay, okay, hey,” he gently took hold of the kid’s shoulders, mind running a mile a minute. The kid knew this guy. The kid had what seemed to be trauma from this guy. Not acceptable. “Okay, FRIDAY, look up the records of Stark Industries employees, past and present. Find any matches to Quentin Beck, or the face we saw on the TV.”

“No matches found in our past or present employment records, Sir. ”

“Then he’s lying,” Peter said immediately. “Whoever he’s calling himself, he’s lying. It’s all lies, it’s all fake, he’s a fake –”

“Pete, Pete,” Tony tightened his grip on the kid’s shoulders a bit, trying to make eye contact with the frenzied teen. “I believe you. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Peter was still shaking his head, eyes anywhere but on Tony. 

“How about this, then,” he changed tactics, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake. “Can you tell me how you know this Beck guy? Did you run into him in your world?”

“I was, um, wondering that, too.” They both turned to see Peter 599 in the doorway, waiting hesitantly. “Morgan’s with Pepper. I was hoping I could, um, hear the explanation. If that’s okay.”

Peter 616 nodded wearily. “I–it’s a long story. You don’t need to hear it all. But yes, we fought on Earth 616. He tricked me, and I-I screwed up, and a lot of bad happened because of it.” He glanced up at Tony. “He was the first big bad I had to fight after you died.”

“You fought him all by yourself?” Peter 599 asked.

“Didn’t have much of a choice. Happy was my only trusted backup, and he had to make sure my friends stayed safe.”

There was a long pause, and Peter 616 didn’t look up at them. From the little Tony could see of his face, he looked almost ashamed, and that was enough to break Tony’s heart. His kid, only slightly older than he was used to, with almost no backup he could trust, no Avengers by his side, ashamed that he couldn’t keep his friends safe on his own while also fighting a supervillain.

“I believe you,” Tony said again, not knowing how to promise more than he already had. “FRIDAY and I are going to look more into Beck, and figure all of this out. Everything will be alright.” He leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Peter’s crown. “You’re so strong, bambino. ”

Peter tried to continue taking deep breaths after Tony left, a hand pressed gently to his chest. Tony believed him. Tony didn’t know the whole story, but he believed him about Beck.

“Are you going to do what he said?” Peter 599 broke the silence after a minute, his voice hesitant. “Are you going to meet him on the bridge? I mean, on the one hand, this is crazy and we need to do something about it, but also we do have school tomorrow. I’m sure Tony would understand if you need to skip the day, though.”

As much as he loved going here, school indeed wasn’t able to be his top worry. He agreed that Tony would be fine with–and maybe even prefer–him skipping, but he wouldn’t be able to focus anyways, not with Beck looming over him. 

Peter’s heart jackrabbited at the mere thought of seeing Mysterio in person again. Of facing the tricks, the lies, the hallucinations . . . But he had survived it before, and he could do it again. His spidersense was stronger now, and he knew how to fight back.

“Yes.” He nodded slowly. “I’m going to meet him there.”

“Can I come with you?”

He whipped his eyes to his slightly-younger counterpart, whose expression was a bit more excited than Peter was okay with. “Absolutely not. No–I don’t want to hear any of it. I’ve fought Beck before, and won.” If that’s what you qualify as “winning.” “I know his methods, and I know I can beat him. I don’t want you anywhere near him, do you understand me?” He could only hope his expression was more intimidating than pleading, more authoritative than desperate. 

Because he was so desperate. Beck had nearly broken him. He wouldn’t be able to see that brokenness in Peter 599.

Whatever 599 saw, it was enough to make him back down. 

“Okay,” he said, giving him a small smile. “I trust you, too. If you say you can beat him, then I trust you.” Darting forward, he gave Peter a quick hug. “Tell Karen to call one of us if you need anything, okay? And I mean anything.”

With one last look back, he left too. Peter sat heavily on his bed, sans one pillow, and tried to simultaneously think of all he knew about fighting Mysterio, and let his mind think of anything else.

/*/*/*/*/

Peter was shaking.

It wasn’t cold. Not to him, anyway, inside the Spidersuit. Knowing he got cold easier, Karen always ran it a little hotter than others would like. 

Peter was shaking.

And doing his best not to show it.

Peter swallowed. He wasn’t that kid anymore. He’d fought with others, he’d already beaten Mysterio. He had the power here. He had the advantage.

He clenched his fists harder.

“Cosmic.”

Peter did his best not to flinch backwards as Mysterio descended from the sky, his deep purple cape billowing behind him, tendrils of green smoke dissipating in the wind around him. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Cut the games, Beck,” Peter snarled. “I know who you are. I know all your tricks, and I’m not falling for them. You’re a fake. Everything you do is a lie.”

Mysterio spread his hands wide as he landed gently on top of the bridge. Not ten feet from Peter. Too close. 

“Since when does something being a lie make it any less real?”

A bolt of green smoke shot out at Peter, who narrowly flipped aside. He gasped as the graze burned against his suit, recovering quickly and flipping to the other side of the pillar, shooting webs as he went. 

“You can put on a pretty lightshow, Beck, but you can’t undo this.” He yanked on the knot of webs he’d ensnared the villain in. It was worse than the one he’d trapped Dr. Strange in, all those months ago, far too strong for Beck. He had done a lot of real damage, but had never–

Some sort of liquid shot out of Mysterio’s suit, immediately dissolving any web it touched.

Peter staggered back. No. He couldn’t–

“I’ve got more than just lights, Cosmic.”

Peter had already beaten Mysterio. He had the power here. He had the advantage.

Peter didn’t know how this had happened.

Something in him was wrong-footed, caught off guard. His spidersense barely reacted in time as Mysterio shot acid-green smoke at him, stood patient and expectant as Peter dodged. His webs wouldn’t work, he had no other main weapons other than his strength. Mysterio’s armored suit wasn’t durable enough to stand up to him at his strongest–

But that’s not what Peter was. 

I can beat him. I can protect them. I can show them–

Peter gasped as the top of the bridge was flooded with the green smoke, filling his vision.

“Karen! Find me a way to see through this!”

Moments passed as Peter stumbled, trying to get his heartbeat slowed enough to let his spidersense do its thing.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I cannot find any way for your suit’s capabilities to counteract the smoke.”

Peter swallowed. He’d fought the guy blind once before.

Not like this.

“I know it’s cliche, but I just want you to know–” Peter jumped, the voice somehow coming from all around him, “This really isn’t personal.”

An armored fist connected with his jaw before he could dodge, and he didn’t even have the breath to scream as the East River rose to meet him.

/*/*/*/*/

“ Peter! Peter, please, please wake up, come on, you can’t do this to us.”

While Peter would have liked to return to the waking world slowly, each aspect coming into focus in its own time, instead he burst back into it all at once with a terrible, jerking cough and an aching in his ribs, putrid water hacking out of his mouth.

“Peter!”
A weight collapsed onto his chest, and Peter was back a part of the world enough to identify it as Peter 599, his breaths shuddering as he muttered something on top of Peter.

“What–” Peter cut off with another hack, water spitting down his chin.

Water. The bridge. Beck –

Peter sat up with a gasp. “Where is he? What happened?”

“Just take a breath,” 599 assured him. His mask was off. Both of theirs were. 599’s eyes were slightly red, and they were both damp. Peter shuddered a bit.

“Karen, turn up his heater a bit,” Peter 599 said immediately. “Actually, mine too.” He sat down fully across from Peter, eyes never leaving his, like Peter would fall back into the water if he looked away. “It’s okay. We’re on top of some apartment building near the bridge, you’re okay. There are no cameras around, I checked. Tony would have been here too, but he and the rest of the group were called away by Fury at three in the morning–guy has no respect of people’s sleep–to investigate Mysterio. Karen alerted me that Mysterio was using some sort of weird smoke against you that she couldn’t counteract, and then soon after that you . . .” He swallowed. “You’re lucky I made it in time.”

“You were supposed to be in school ,” Peter blurts out. It was easier than focusing on the fact that Peter 599 had pulled him out of the water when Peter knew he had to have similar trauma with drowning, easier to focus on than his defeat.

Peter 599 reddened. “I wore my suit under my clothes to school. Was worried about you–not that I didn’t trust you and what you were doing! Just . . . the spidersense didn’t like it, I guess.”

“You shouldn’t have come.” Peter stood. “I was fine.”

“Peter–Cosmic–however I’m supposed to refer to you right now. You falling from the Brooklyn Bridge doesn’t sound like ‘fine’ to me.”

“I’ve fought him before, though! I know how he works, I’ve beaten him –”

“You’re in another dimension, though! I’m different, Tony’s different, why is it so hard to believe that Mysterio is different too?”

Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, chest heaving harder and faster. He wanted to shout, but knew there wasn’t a good counterargument. 599’s reasoning was logical, but Peter wasn’t in the mood for logic.

“Listen,” 599 continued when he couldn’t find something to say. “I know how strong you are. But hear me out when I say–let me try. He seems to be targeting you for some reason, let me try and see if I can–”

“ No . I can beat him, and even if I couldn’t, you aren’t. You heard me last night, and that hasn’t changed. You aren’t going near him. ”

“Why?” His calm began to crack. “Because it went badly when you did it? Because I’m not a seasoned, old solo vigilante like you?”

“What?”

“Look, I know you don’t want me fighting him, but you’re wrong about me. I have more potential than you think–I can learn from you, I just want to be like you!”

Peter froze.

No. That wasn’t true.

“But you’re–”

He shook his head.

“But you’re already better.”

“What? How can you say that?”

“You–” Peter couldn’t rekindle the anger the same way he could a moment ago. He helplessly gestured at Peter 599’s hands. “You saved the universe! How can you say that you want to be like me? Almost everyone I love is dead! I got Aunt May killed, I let my Tony sacrifice himself, my world was almost destroyed because of me! You can’t want to be like me, I-I’m a horrible hero.”

It was Peter 599’s turn to gape, his eyes widening as he winced. “I didn’t mean–you–I didn’t mean to say I was envious of your . . . of all the awful things that have happened to you. I’m sorry. That was . . . I just–you are not a horrible hero, Peter. Me saving the universe was practically a fluke accident, but you–you’re nearly stronger than I am, you’ve been able to learn so much about your spidersense, you managed to fight off your Mysterio practically by yourself, Vision once mentioned that you met other versions of yourself, and got to fight villains with them, you establish a new hero persona here and have almost the whole city on your side so fast, you went through so much in your world and you’re still Spiderman. I stopped for months even after my arms healed after the Blip, but you went through so much more and you’re still going. You’re so cool, and smart, and-and–” He ducked his face to the ground, flushed red. “I–from almost your first day here, I wished you’d–I wondered what it would be like if you were like my big brother.”

“You . . . you did?”

“I do. Still. If–if that’s not weird, or something.”

“It is weird,” he couldn’t stop himself from saying, hurrying when Peter 599’s face only flushed deeper. “But a good weird. I’d like that. Us being brothers, I mean.”

“Really?”

He looked up at Peter, and his eyes were shining with a hesitant but bright hope that Peter would never extinguish. This kid that was barely still a kid at this point, a hero above everything Peter had ever done, looking to him and seeing someone to admire, someone to learn from. 

He didn’t deserve Peter 599’s trust, or his admiration, and he knew it. But he had it, inexplicably, and he wasn’t going to let go now.

He opened his arms, and it felt like the wrong move until 599 returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around him and tucking his chin against Peter’s shoulder. They were almost the exact same height, an awkward position for a supposedly big brother, but Peter 599 didn’t seem to care, so Peter wouldn’t dwell on it too much either. 

“Those other Peters, that I met,” he started, his voice slightly thicker than he expected. “They called me their brother too. They’d be happy to know I have you.”

“That we have each other.”

Peter 599’s voice was slightly muffled against Peter’s shoulder, but Peter heard him loud and clear. His throat was suddenly too tight to respond, so he nodded, pulling his little brother a little closer still.

They would figure out Mysterio. Peter wasn’t alone here, he had support, he had a team and a family that would back him up. There would be time for all of that.

Later.

Chapter Text

“That’s it, I’m not heeding any more of the pirate’s calls.”

“Tony, that is not the lesson you should be learning from this.”

“Nope.” Tony flopped dramatically onto the couch, slinging an arm around Peter. It was just a bit too tight to be joking. “I leave for a few hours for some pointless meeting–which yielded no new information, by the way–and my kid almost drowns! Again. ” He turned to Peter. “Kid. Peter. I mean this in the least scolding way possible–what were you thinking ?”

Peter sighed, glancing away. There wasn’t really a better place to look, though; the Avengers had all met them on Tony’s floor after their meeting, the Peters barely having time to change out of their suits before Tony had grabbed them both into a hug. Peter supposed that meant Karen had told him what had happened.

He had already told Tony some of what had gone so wrong in his world. Nearly everyone else was here now, their eyes full of concern even while some of them tried to pretend they weren’t. Natasha, who had surely known something was wrong from day one, gave him the slightest of nods.

He took a deep breath, before turning to Tony with a small, rueful smile. “Remember when I said a lot of my more recent problems on Earth 616 started when my identity got leaked and everyone thought I was a mass murderer?”

Tony’s brows rose, along with everyone else’s in the room. Even Natasha’s usually collected expression went slightly slack. “It’s really time for that story?”

“Yeah.” Peter looked down at his feet. He would tell the story; he wouldn’t see any of their thoughts on it. Not until he had managed to finish. “Unfortunately, it is.”

It was almost hard to find a starting point–did he start right after the battle with Thanos? That was when his Beck had technically started preparing for his reign of terror. Or just jump into the field trip from hell?

The Avengers were considerate enough not to interrupt, though he suspects it wasn’t for a lack of trying for some of them. He heard Natasha kick Clint in the shins more than once, and Thor seemed to be muttering Norse curse words under his breath for the better part of the story. Tony’s arm had steadily tightened around his shoulder.

Ending the story proved similarly difficult. After hesitating for a moment, he shrugged. “So with the crowd closing in on me–” he’d strategically left out the part about dating MJ, he didn’t need more complications in this world right now– “I kind of panicked and just–swung home? The press and media attacks just got out of control after that, and I made–a lot of bad decisions with it all.”

There was a long silence. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter 599 raise his hand before asking, “can I say something really insensitive real quick?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “If I’m ever in Earth 616 for some reason and I go to New York, I’m going to become so violent.”

Peter blinked. “What–?”

“They betrayed you!” Peter 599 pointed an accusing finger, though with nowhere in this universe for it to go it just pointed out the window. “It sounds like we were pretty much the same before the Blip–we probably saved a lot of the same people, rescued the same businesses, returned the same lost dogs. I know I can only go off of my own experiences, but Queens loves Spiderman! They cheer when he swings by, they make fan videos of him online and get pictures with him in the streets–long before I was known for using the stones, Spiderman was still a well-liked hero for most people. They get an accusation that you’re a killer from an easily-editable video made by a self-proclaimed hero that they’d just heard of, and they take his word over yours? What did Mysterio ever do for them, huh? From what you said, Mysterio never even went to New York! His most televised work was in Europe! He was named by Italians ! It sounds like 95% of Earth 616 New York are idiots that don’t deserve to be saved by my big brother!”

Peter 599 was standing by the end of his rant, red in the face and panting hard, mouth screwed in a snarl at the thought of the other universe. Everyone else sat back in silence, the tension tight, for once not a quip to be heard. 

His voice was softer when he spoke next, his voice tight as if holding back tears.

“They didn’t deserve you.”

“Kiddo,” Tony started, but before he could finish Peter had stood, too, pulling his newly christened little brother into a hug. Peter 599 returned it fiercely, tucking himself against Peter’s shoulder and squeezing his shirt. Peter adjusted the hug so that he was the one facing the living room, trying to give Peter 599 a bit more privacy in case he didn’t want to see the others watching right now. 

“How could they do that to you?”

“I don’t know.” He spoke loud enough for the rest of the Avengers to hear if they wanted. “I don’t know why they believed Mysterio over me. All I know is that when they took his side, a lot of stuff started going wrong for me. It’s not the same here, though. I’m here, and I’m okay.”

Peter pulled back slightly, trying to make sure Peter 599 was listening along with the others. “As for what I was thinking when I went to fight him–well, a lot of things, some more foolish than others. But I was thinking that since I had already fought him and won in London, that I could do the same here. And I was thinking that, by keeping you away from the fight,” he looked back down at the younger boy, “I could keep you from feeling the aftermath of the fight like I did. It was . . . not good, for my head. I wanted to protect you from that.”

“Well, you’re right about at least one thing,” Tony said. “It’s not the same here. You are not alone in fighting this man, or figuring out his lies. You aren’t the only one trying to protect people anymore.” He put a hand on each of the Peters’ shoulders. “We aren’t going to let either of you be hurt by Mysterio.”

The Avengers all nodded, their faces visibly slipping into Mission Mode in a way they never had during that dumb meeting with Fury. 

“Alright, team,” Steve said. “Let’s start prepping. By this time tomorrow, I want everything gathered about this Earth’s Quentin Beck that there is to know. We’ll base our mission prep off that, and then we’ll ruin him.”

Everyone nodded again, most scattering to offices or bedrooms to do just that. Tony squeezed his shoulder once more before presumably moving off to his lab, shooting them an inviting look before he disappeared.

Peter pulled his brother closer before he could follow. 

He had someone to hug. He had someone that would hug him back, that would scream and rant on his behalf when he was wronged. That alone was a miracle he hadn’t been sure he’d get again just a few months ago. 

“Thank you.”

/*/*/*/*/

Ned plopped his lunch tray down at their table with a clatter. The five of them hadn’t had much time to talk in the morning classes they shared, and the boy seemed to be vibrating with energy. 

“Guys, did you see the news over the weekend? Peter and I were texting about it the other day, I can’t believe this is happening.”

Peter resisted the urge to glance over at Peter 616 across the table, who was now twirling his next bite of leftover spaghetti with subtle intensity. 

“That Mysterio and Cosmic drama?” Gwen said. “It’s all Dad could talk about. It’s interesting, but I don’t foresee it having a big effect on anything. Mysterio doesn’t seem like that big of a threat, especially since a lot of people already like Cosmic.”

“You really think people will take Cosmic’s side over Mysterio’s?” Peter 616 piped up. He seemed to be doing his best to keep his voice casual, though Peter could hear the slight tremor behind it. Peter’s heart panged at the question. It shouldn’t be one that his brother had to ask. 

He could still hardly believe that Peter 616 had been okay with Peter seeing him as a brother. He had already learned so much from the slightly-older hero, and knew the two of them would do anything to protect each other. 616 had been so scared at the thought of Peter fighting Mysterio, after all, and the feeling when he realized how badly the fight had gone was no different.

He’d always wanted siblings. Part of him wished he could also meet the older alternates that Peter 616 referred to as Peter 2 and Peter 3, but he wouldn’t trade the Peter he got for all the multiverse. 

“Of course they will,” MJ answered before Gwen could. “Mysterio is a freak with a fishbowl on his head, and Cosmic is a hero that has done a lot of good in this city for months now. They’d be crazy to side with Mysterio, no matter how much that idiot Jameson has been singing his praises after yesterday.”

Peter nodded, unable to hold back his scowl. People would be crazy to take Mysterio’s side, and he was sticking by his threat against Peter 616’s original world if he ever saw someone from there.

“Good.” Ned nodded. “I figured that’s what you guys would say, but I needed to confirm. You’re probably right, it’ll probably blow over soon. Hopefully. I mean, Cosmic has Spiderman’s support, after all, so any opposition to him can’t last too long, right?”

Gwen nodded in agreement. “For my dad’s sake, I hope so.”

They weren’t the only ones talking about the weekend’s events. Teachers had to keep classes on track as kids whispered and debated the issue throughout the day, wondering where Mysterio had come from, and why Cosmic had been caught stealing from that bank. The rumor mill was thriving, each more outlandish than the last; though Peter supposed that in the world they lived in now with aliens, Norse gods and the multiverse, nothing was truly out of the realm of possibility.

Peter 616’s face was tense with fatigue when they met up after school. 

“Ready?” Peter smiled, hoping his guilt that he couldn’t have been around more during the school day didn’t show. “May’s been looking forward to this all day.”

Peter 616 smiled back, though it was still tainted with exhaustion. “Me too. I feel bad that she had to take off work for it, though.”

“She was happy to. And it was only a few hours off.” He put a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “She hasn’t seen you for a few days, and she’s worried about you after this weekend. She was really happy you said yes to the invitation.”

His alternate nodded, though there was still a bit of tension furrowing his brows as they started on their way to the subway. Peter knew that face; 616 may be wearing Ben Reilly’s face right now, but he still had nearly all the mannerisms Peter knew so well from himself.

He’d wait to ask, though. It had been a long day.

Happy would usually drive them somewhere after school when they needed it, but today he had asked Tony if they could head back to May’s themselves, planning to stop at Delmar’s on the way for a snack. Murph butted Peter 616’s leg with his head when they entered, 616 happily bending down to stroke his back and fluffy tail. 

“Hi, Mr. Delmar! Two number fives, please, and if you could smoosh the bread down real flat?”

Mr. Delmar sighed in exasperation, grumbling under his breath that Peter had found someone with the same blasphemous sandwich tastes as him. Peter just grinned; he knew that he and his alternate had differences, both in preferences and demeanor, but he also loved everything they shared. It just made them feel like more of a family.

They ate them on the move back to the apartment, each talking around their food as they discussed–well, anything Peter could do to keep the conversation away from Mysterio. They had learned yesterday that talking about it did little to ease Peter 616’s anxieties about the situation; much of his relative confidence yesterday seemed to have come from the face that he’d thought he’d known what to expect from the new villain, and with the rug pulled out from under him he had lost a lot of that assuredness.

They would have the final mission brief after dinner with May. If Peter was lucky, they’d get to see that light of confidence come back to his brother’s eyes.

Peter took a deep breath as they approached the apartment door. “Smells like thai tonight.”

Sure enough, the door opened to some of their favorite smells, boxes spread across the table. May came out of her room as soon as she heard the door open, changed out of her work clothes and beaming at the sight of them.

“My boys!” She pulled the two of them into a quick hug, frowning for just a moment when she pulled back. “I’m never used to seeing you in that mask, Six. I never know how your brother and new friends do it.”

“Well, Ned, MJ, and Gwen have never known him as anything different,” Peter reminded her. She had been–only slightly surprisingly–fully supportive when Peter had told her the new development in he and Peter 616’s titles. She had hugged him, glad that ‘they had realized what she had seen in them since that first night.’“And I’ll admit it has taken practice for me to not mess it up.”

May beckoned them to the table. “I know you said you were eating on the way, but I know you both enough to know that didn’t fill you at all. I got all the fixings, and then we’ll make dessert after.”

They dug in, the familiar food warming him; from the contented look on Peter 616’s face, the anxious crease between his brows somewhat smoothed out, the food had a similar effect on him. Perhaps the food was why the Mysterio topic was able to be breached with relative ease, May asking about what the villain was like on Earth 616, and what they had learned about him so far here. 

The tension in Peter 616’s brows came back at the question, and he hesitantly started to explain the research they’d done last night. The two of them had spent hours in the lab with Tony, Pepper and Morgan joining them for a while too, looking up everything about Earth 599’s Quentin Beck, and how they could take him down here.

“We’re pretty sure it’s sorta the same as in Earth 616, generally,” Peter 616 said. “It’s all fake, still; he doesn’t really have any powers. But instead of being a disgruntled ex-Stark Industries employee like in my world, he was a stuntman and special-effects expert. We think he used that knowledge to replicate our web design and get close to the design of my suit to frame me for the robbery, then look like the hero when he defeated me on the bridge.”

“And we’ll find out for certain tomorrow,” Peter added, smiling. 

The smile Peter 616 returned wasn’t quite as confident as Peter would have liked. “Yeah. I guess I just wish I could’ve . . . done more. With the planning, and everything. On Earth 616, it was pretty much up to me to come up with a plan to stop Mysterio, and I did. Part of me wishes I could’ve done the same here.”

“Peter.” May took his hand. “You are so strong. I hate the way you have had to discover that strength, but there is no doubt for any of us that it’s still there. That it always will be. And if anyone calls you weak for having the Avengers help you stop him here, they will be answering to me. Do you understand?”

Peter 616’s eyes shone slightly as he nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed. 

“They’ll be answering to me, too,” Peter added. “You were up working for hours to analyze Mysterio last night with the rest of us, and helped find a lot of important information. Not that you need the help, but Spiderman will be personally letting go of the ‘friendly neighborhood’ part of the title to fight anyone needed.”

That, at least, was rewarded with a small smile. Peter 616 nodded again, blinking just a bit too fast to be natural. Neither of them commented on it. 

“Now,” May said, squeezing his hands. “I’m going to get out the cookie ingredients, and you boys are going to wash your hands and decide if you want chocolate or butterscotch chips.”

They both nodded, heading over to the sink. As they pumped the foaming soap onto their hands, Peter 616 glanced over at him. 

“The same goes for you, you know. If anyone’s ever giving you a hard time . . . I know you’re the more established super hero in this city, but I’m happy to enact any ‘scary big brother’ privileges I have.”

Peter smiled. “You’ll be one of the first I go to.”

“So, which were you thinking? Chocolate or butterscotch?”

“How about both?”

“Yeah. Both is good.”

/*/*/*/*/

Peter swallowed, glancing out the window where he knew Mysterio lay, somewhere.  “You’re sure you guys will be able to stay hidden from him?”

Tony scoffed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Kiddo. I know I’m not known for my subtlety, personally, but we do have three people on the team with ‘spy and assassin’ on their resume. I think we’ll be okay.”

“I mean, of course I know you guys are capable, I just meant–I mean, I’ve seen some of his tech. He wielded a lot of power with it on Earth 616, and I’m sure it’s no different here.”

“True, but apart from the fact that we can handle some ex-special effects artist,” Clint said, “it also sounded like in that world he had a team working behind him. And we’ve found no evidence of this Mysterio working with a team.”

That was true. This time, Peter had the one thing that had put him at such a disadvantage last time. 

“Are you ready?” Tony asked.

Peter glanced back out the window and over the cityscape. Mysterio hadn’t been subtle since he had won their fight on the Brooklyn Bridge, flying over the city and perching on buildings; Peter 599 had scoffed that not only was he a filthy liar, but the guy also couldn’t get his own original perches.

Some people believed Mysterio’s side of the story, and some didn’t. Cosmic had gained some fans in the last couple of months, but he had also gained some enemies. The court of public opinion, this time around, wasn’t enough to ruin his vigilante career, and this time at least his civilian life wasn’t on the line. But it would feel better to know that the world knew the truth about Mysterio this time. 

Besides, his family here would never stand for his name being slandered like this, regardless of his feelings on the matter (Peter 599’s words, not his).

He nodded. “I’m ready.”

“We’ll see you soon, okay, Peter?” Steve clipped his shield onto his back, giving him a reassuring smile. Peter saluted as he leapt out the window, shooting out a web and grinning as it caught him.

He didn’t even have to resort to using Karen’s help to find Mysterio. The fogged, blue helmet could be seen from a block away, along with the billowing purple cape and distinct green smoke. Peter shuddered as he landed atop an office building, watching Beck do–he squinted–an interview with a local news channel. Yep. The mark of a true hero. 

He continued watching until the interview was finished, pointedly tuning out the words after a minute; he didn’t need to hear more about the good Mysterio would do for the city by thwarting imposing criminals like Cosmic. Besides, he didn’t want this second confrontation done in too public of a space. Unlike Beck, Peter wanted to mitigate civilian casualties as much as possible. 

Once the “hero” had finished his interview–and signed a few autographs are you kidding me –he flew up in a huge display of smoke, doing a flourish and wave as he bade farewell to the pedestrians standing by in awe and curiosity. 

Peter swung after him after he’d gotten slightly farther from the city proper, thwipping out faster and increasing his volume until he was only fifty feet from Mysterio. 

The villain turned when he was at the apex of a swing, and he landed on a roof’s flagpole as soon as he saw the front of that fishbowl. 

“Does that helmet glow in the dark?” Peter called. “You know how early the sun sets these days, if you’re out too late you’ll need a flashlight.”

“Ready for another fight so soon, Cosmic?” Mysterio spread his arms wide. “Did you forget I can dissolve those little webs of yours?”

Peter shrugged. “You can try, but you’ll have to catch me first.”

“ I have already beaten you. What makes you think I would indulge your game of tag now?”

Peter raised his mask just enough to grin and stick his tongue out at Beck. “Fine by me. Let everyone see that that first time was a fluke, and that I can beat you when I’ve had more than a couple hours to prepare.”

He swung off the flagpole without looking back. If there was one surefire way to appeal to Quentin Beck, use his ego.

He heard the villain following him seconds later.

Grinning to himself, Peter headed to the spot they had agreed on beforehand, Karen reminding him of the route when needed. It was far enough from the crowded streets to avoid casualties, but close enough that no one could accuse him of luring Mysterio away from civilization. 

A large part of him shuddered at turning his back on Mysterio to swing away. He took a deep breath. His spidersense was stronger than he thought, and just like in London, he could stay safe if he just trusted it. No hesitation, just– dodge. 

Multiple of Mysterio’s energy blasts, smoke and whatever the heck he was using to dissolve Peter’s webs–they knew it wasn’t the exact solution he used himself, but they hadn’t figured out the exact composition yet–nearly struck him in the chase, a couple managing to graze Peter’s suit. He barely felt it through the material, but each one was a reminder to be extra vigilant and not let the hits become any more direct.

He forced himself to slow once he saw the agreed-upon location, a condemned apartment building that Tony had already scanned and confirmed to be vacant. Just enough of a decrease in speed that Mysterio could catch up without it seeming deliberate, punching in one of the windows and rolling in just before Mysterio blasted out the wall behind him. 

“No river to fall to now, Cosmic,” Mysterio taunted as he rose to his full height. “Just the hard street below.”

Inside his mask, Karen confirmed that all the Avengers were in position for their moment, and that his mask’s camera was currently broadcasting.

“I wouldn’t worry about that this time, Beck.”

Mysterio paused, and Peter took the opportunity for all it was worth.

“Yeah, I know who you are. Quentin Beck, ex-special effects artist, among other things. You’re a fake, and I don’t just mean your powers. Take it from someone who’s met quite a few in my time–you’re no hero.”

Peter dodged another blast of smoke just in time, vaulting forward to slam his fist into Beck’s stomach, knocking him back, and grabbing him before he could start to stumble too close to the open window, tossing him back across the room. 

Mysterio caught himself easily, switching tactics and shooting out his own webs at Peter–when they confiscated his tech, Peter vowed to investigate Mysterio’s stuff closer. Where was he keeping all this stuff? Peter made a point of dodging several before letting one hit him square in the chest and knock him to the ground, flinching to the side just half a second too late to keep the next two from pinning down his arms.

He struggled; maybe if he was putting his full strength into it, he’d be able to break out of the copycat webs, but for now he let himself take the defeat. Let the eyes of his mask narrow in frustration at Mysterio where he looked up at him.

“How long do you really expect this to last?” He spat. “The people will figure out that you’re a fake soon.”

“The people will believe whatever they see. We live in a world where new heroes pop up each week, boy; at this point, no one bothers to think twice whether someone is real. I can play the hero, and that’s all that matters. What’s that word in showbiz? ‘You have to strike while the iron is hot?’ Well, you’ve had your turn–now I’m striking, Cosmic.”

“I don’t think a proper strike involves framing your fellow vigilante for bank theft. And don’t think I’m just going to drop that issue, either.” He glanced down at his forearm, ensuring the mask cam got the web in view. “I feel like Spiderman and I have a bit of a copyright on the webs thing, and I don’t appreciate you making your own.”

“Oh, please,” Mysterio waved away the accusation. “Like you could ever prove you weren’t the one at the bank. As for the webs, I could say that imitation is the best form of flattery, but really I couldn’t help improving on it. Face it, Cosmic: whatever you can do naturally, I can do better artificially.”

I was bitten by a radioactive spider, Peter barely held himself back from retorting. I wouldn’t exactly call what I do “natural.” 

“You can try all you want, but I’m here to stay.” Beck strutted closer. Peter could hear the leer in his voice, and wrinkled his nose. “Don’t underestimate what people are willing to believe. Who knows? Someday the Avengers may even ask me to join them.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

Peter grinned under his mask; if his hands were free at the moment he would have lifted his mask to stick out his tongue again as Iron Man blasted forward on Peter’s right side, the mask cold and threatening. Spiderman dropped down from the ceiling next to him, Captain America coming up on Peter’s left side before tossing the shield and letting it ricochet around the room before catching it–a dramatic move in Peter’s opinion, but it got the message across.

Beck flinched as an arrow thudded into the wall, missing him by mere inches. At its firing point, Hawkeye and the Black Widow stood like two silent, vengeance-bent angels, Clint’s dark grin and Natasha’s cold stare enough to make Peter himself shudder. 

Though he couldn’t see them fully yet, from the other sounds and new heartbeats Peter knew that Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Vision, Thor and even Loki–he hadn’t even been at the meeting, Peter wasn’t sure what he’s doing there, maybe he just liked the thought of the chaos–had joined in around them, effectively surrounding the faceless villain.

“The only way you’d be seeing the inside of that Tower,” Tony continued, “is from its interrogation cells. Cosmic has more heroism in his little toe than you could think to fill that fishbowl with. And if you go after him, it means you’re going after all of us.”

Finally putting in some real effort, Peter managed to rip the copycat webs off of his arms and chest to stand. He glanced around, smiling as the mask cam caught them all in their admittedly static, but awesome stances.

“Maybe sometimes people do believe what they want to see. And maybe you would have fooled them for a while,” Peter said. “But this isn’t like last time. This time, I have something you don’t. I have a team.

“A team that will make sure you stay where you belong this time.”

/*/*/*/*/

Peter’s team was all too happy to make sure Beck couldn’t fight back as they got him back to the tower, where he would stay until SHIELD came by to cart him off. A little too happy, in fact; Tony’s gauntlets were definitely set to higher than “stun” when Beck tried to take a blast at him.

In the end, they didn’t tell him that Tony and the Peters had spent hours arranging for Karen to broadcast onto televisions and jumbo screens whatever Peter was seeing through his mask when he gave the signal; all of New York, and indeed many others outside of it, saw Mysterio’s confession. Peter wasn’t sure when they’d tell Beck the truth, if he didn’t figure it out for himself. Maybe in the interrogation cells, or maybe as evidence if this ever found its way into court . . . 

For now, imagining Beck’s face when they did tell him was quite enough for Peter.

He didn’t follow them back to the tower at first. It had all felt so fast, so . . . simple.

Just like Tony promised it would be. Because this time, they could be there for me.

With a reassurance to the others that he was fine and would head home soon–and a double reassurance to a worrying little Spider-brother–Peter climbed back up to the apartment building’s roof, sitting down with his legs dangling off the side.

The sun had nearly finished setting. A few floors below lay the evidence of their “fight,” and as Tony had promised, the evidence of the last time Peter would ever have to see Quentin Beck, if he so chose.

He had beaten Mysterio by himself before. He could have done it again.

But thank goodness he didn’t have to.

Chapter Text

Peter got back to the tower just as Tony was leading a pajama-clad Morgan to her bedroom. She lit up with a gasp when she saw him, squeezing him around the waist.

“You’re okay!” She pulled back. “You’re okay now, right?”

He smiled down at her. “Hey, Morgs. Yeah, I’m okay now. All thanks to our awesome family.”

She grinned. “Good. I’m happy you’re not sad anymore. Goodnight, Petey.”

Peter wasn’t sure what to do with the warmth that filled his chest at the little girl’s words, settling for wishing her the same and settling down on the couch next to Peter 599, at least for a few minutes before he’d go change out of the Cosmic suit.

“I didn’t mean to worry her. You guys could have told me to come home earlier.”

Peter 599 shrugged. “We knew you needed the alone time. We explained it to Morgan as best as we could, and she understood too, even if she did wish you were home. She was okay.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

They stayed like that for a couple minutes more before Peter excused himself to change out of his suit. When he returned in softer sweats, he noted that Peter 599 had muted the TV, a small, amused smile on his face as he stared slightly up and to the left.

Peter tapped him lightly on the leg, raising a brow. 599 blinked for a second before turning to him and grinning.

“I’m hoping she won’t mind.” When Peter 599 spoke, it was in a near whisper, like he didn’t want to interrupt a conversation. “I’m listening to Pepper in her office. She’s on the phone with The Daily Bugle . Now that we have irrefutable proof against Mysterio, she can properly rip into them and demand they devote the entirety of their next news segment to you, and apologize for siding with someone that just confessed on camera to framing you and tricking the public. I think Pepper’s planning to ruin Jameson entirely, and I don’t care if it’s a little mean to say that I’m not sad about it.”

Peter blinked at the intensity of the statement. Peter wouldn’t exactly miss the newsman if he left, either, but there really wasn’t any sympathy in his brother’s eyes.

Peter 599 must have seen his surprise, because he sat up and turned fully, appearing to take a break from listening to Pepper in the background.

“Peter. This guy has had it out for us since we started. That we don’t show our identity like the Avengers, we can’t be trusted, we’re not governed at all. I can handle it, and I know you can too, but I’m sick of it. His kids are grown up, his wife separated from him years ago; it’s not like anyone will suffer when he gets what he deserves. He sided with Mysterio, and he’s the one that showed Mysterio leaking your identity and caused you so much trouble.”

Peter put a hand on 599’s shoulder. “Peter. That wasn’t the same Jameson.”

The other boy scoffed. “Look me in the eyes and tell me this Jameson wouldn’t leak either of our identities in a heartbeat if given the chance, though, or that he would feel bad if New York totally turned against us and went after our families. They’re from different universes, but I doubt this one is any better.”

Peter may not agree that this Jameson needed to be punished for Earth 616’s crimes, but he did agree that even apart from that, the J. Jonah Jameson here had done plenty on his own to be brought to justice. 

The two Peters settled back together, and continued listening to Pepper Potts-Stark mercilessly tear their biggest critic apart.

/*/*/*/*/

Call it nostalgia, or call it weakness. Peter wasn’t sure. All he felt was content.

They had agreed to keep the connections between Cosmic and Spiderman to as little as they could. Obviously their costumes were similar, and their powers were just about identical, if you didn’t count Cosmic’s gold webs. Apart from that, though, they tried to differ their vigilante personas slightly, and use different patrol routes. It required a lot more change on Peter’s part than Peter 599’s, but Peter understood. It would be much weirder for Spiderman to suddenly change his usual hangout spots and routes than for an entirely new hero to come in and take different paths.

On Earth 616, Spiderman had sat atop Midtown High sometimes when he wanted somewhere familiar to perch, and it was no different here. Cosmic had yet to claim a permanent perch, but there were multiple pictures online of him napping on top of a public library.

Today, though, Peter took his chances. He dangled his legs off the side of Midtown, remembering days’ past, and all that had changed since then. The day was crisp, but the sun was bright against his mask, and he dimmed his eyepieces so that he didn’t have to close his eyes against it.

Unsurprisingly, the confrontation between Cosmic and Mysterio was the talk of the school. Far more entertaining, though, was everyone’s source: even more than the fight, people whispered and gossipped about The Daily Bugle’s response, which, as promised, had been their only story today. Since the morning, Jameson had been red in the face as he’d begrudgingly shown clips of the public apologizing to and thanking Cosmic, repeatedly shown the videos of the fight, and apologized multiple times for his reaction to Mysterio’s arrival.

There was a fundraiser on The Daily Bugle’s website that Peter 599 had excitedly showed him earlier. In it, Jameson pledged to match every dollar donated to Cosmic’s vigilante career, with no limit. There were thousands of dollars donated already. 

Peter had paled to see it at first–he wasn’t in need of any money here–but Peter 599 had assured him that the important part was people showing their support, and Jameson losing out on his own money.

“You can always use it for college, or give it all to a local charity.”

It had been a good day, yes, full of good news. But it had also been a lot, and Peter was happy to lounge on one of his favorite places now. AcaDec practice had ended less than half an hour ago; he had taken a quick swing around the area before settling down.

He sat up quickly as the rooftop door opened, not entirely relaxing when he saw MJ come through. She didn’t pause for more than a moment when she saw him, settling down a few feet from him and pulling out her sketchbook. The team had a competition coming up soon, and Mr. Harrington had asked MJ, as the president, to stay behind a few minutes and make sure all their logistics were in order.

“Hey.” He nodded to her. “Isn’t it a bit late for school to be ending?”

She smirked. “They don’t have after-school clubs where you’re from?”

“Hm. Which one does that mean you’re in?”

“Which do you think?”

“Maybe the art club?” He nodded down at her book. “You have enough talent to qualify.”

If he noticed the faint blush in her cheeks, he didn’t comment on it. 

“Academic Decathlon, actually. We finished a meeting recently, I stayed a bit late.”

“Sounds cool.”

She hummed, and a few minutes passed in silence as she brushed her pencil tip over the paper. Peter found himself subconsciously relaxing at the sound. It reminded him of sitting here with his own MJ, watching her sketch whatever had caught her eye that day.

He frowned. This MJ and his own were so similar, sometimes it was harder to find the differences between them than people like Steve Rogers or Tony Stark, or new members like Gwen Stacy. 

Far too similar.

“Kind of a weird hangout spot for a superhero,” she commented, not looking up from her page.

“I’ve seen Spiderman here before. Figured I’d check it out.”

“Yeah. I guess even as the new guy you were bound to show up here eventually. See what it looked like from up top.”

Peter turned. Something about the comment didn’t . . . sound right.

“What?”

“What?” She asked back, turning to him with the smallest smirk. “I was agreeing with you. You and Spiderman seem to know each other pretty well it makes sense you’d want to try out his spot. Will I see him on the library later?”

Peter stared at her for a moment more before shrugging. “Probably not. We didn’t exactly plan to make a day of this or something.”

“I see.” She angled the sketchbook towards him. “What do you think?”

It wasn’t close to finished, but was still recognizable as Cosmic’s mask. Easy to mistake as Spiderman’s, if not for the extra shading to make the web-lines appear more raised, and the faint outline of his hood on the sides. 

Despite the simmering unease lingering in his chest, he managed a small smile from inside the mask. “Like I said, you have talent. I’d be interested in seeing the final product eventually.”

“Well, maybe I can update you on the progress tomorrow. I’ve got to go.” She stood, turning back to the door. “Lots to do, and it is a school night, you know.”

He sat there for a long time afterward, before connecting Karen to Spiderman.

“Hey, Cosmic! What’s up?”

Peter hesitated a moment; it almost sounded ridiculous to say out loud, but at the same time was completely unsurprising.

“Do you think MJ knows I’m Cosmic?”

/*/*/*/*/

At the tower, he recounted his brief conversation with MJ to Peter 599, asking after his thoughts. Peter 599 did agree that it was odd, but wasn’t sure it was enough evidence to go off of. They both agreed to keep a closer eye on the situation.

But when MJ turned her sketchbook to him during lunch the next day to show him the update, and innocently asked his thoughts on its accuracy, they both knew they didn’t need to look for much more evidence.

/*/*/*/*/

“Tony, Pepper?” 

The two of them looked up from their work tablets as the Peters sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch, so the four of them were facing each other.

“Everything alright, boys?” Tony put his tablet down, looking worried. 

“Everything’s fine,” Peter 616 started, “probably, anyways. Turns out I just might have an even worse record of keeping my secret identity safe than in my first world.”

“What?” They both straightened. “Who knows about your identity?”

“And which identity are you referring to?” Pepper frowned. “Your vigilante persona, or the fact that you came here from another universe?”

“The first one.” Like with Peter 599 the night before, he recounted his conversation with MJ, and everything about it that made him suspect her. “Though it’s fast, it makes sense that she would figure it out eventually; my MJ figured out that I was Spiderman.”

“Do you think she’d tell anyone?”

Peter shook his head, before pausing. “Well, I guess I can’t say for certain, since she never got much time to prove she could keep the secret before my identity was revealed anyways. But I trust MJ, even if this is a slightly different version. She can keep a secret; I’m pretty sure she’s only been dropping hints to tease me.”

He ignored how much the teasing had felt like flirting.

“I’m a bit worried that, if we did choose to confirm it for her, it would just be a thread for her to pull on,” Pepper brought up. “Next she would wonder why your powers are just like Spiderman’s, and what your connection is.”

“Maybe,” Tony conceded, “but we could come up with an answer for that when we come to it. Pete, you really trust this girl?”

He nodded. “I know she’s not my MJ, but I’ve known her for months now, and they’re almost exactly the same. I trusted that MJ with my life, and I trust this one, too.”

“Well, then that settles it for me. You’re an adult, Peter, and we trust you. If you think it’s okay to confirm it for her, then you can do that.”

May invited him to spend the night after dinner. Apart from the fact that he was always happy to see his aunt, he would have accepted based on the fact that the apartment was closer to MJ’s house.

May fell asleep halfway through A New Hope ; seeing that Peter was too preoccupied to pay much attention himself, Peter 599 paused the movie.

“What’re you thinking about? Are you second-guessing telling MJ? I think it’ll be fine. It might even be funny–Ned will know I’m Spiderman, MJ will know you’re Cosmic. I wonder who Gwen will figure out first. We can make a bet.”

“No, I-I feel okay about telling her. I’m more worried about–” he glanced at May to confirm she was still asleep “--Well.” He cleared his throat, hoping his blush wasn’t visible in the light of the television. “Do you remember when I asked if you liked MJ or Gwen here?”

“Yeah.” Now it was Peter 599’s turn to blush.

“I asked because, on Earth 616, I was dating MJ. We . . . I really loved her. She stuck up for me when New York sided with Mysterio, and supported me even when I made terrible mistakes. The MJ here . . .” he buried his head in his hands. “Am I a terrible boyfriend for looking at her and feeling the same love I felt for my girlfriend?”

There was a long silence, likely as Peter 599 tried to figure out a good response for the bombshell his brother had just dropped. 

“I–you’re not a terrible boyfriend, Peter. If nothing else, I know that. It’s obvious how much you love your MJ, and I can only imagine how confusing and weird this aspect of this world is for you. I–I don’t think I’m really qualified to give, like, good advice for this kind of thing, but I think you should give it some more time. Let yourself settle even more into being her friend again, and give her time to fall in love with you all over again. Give a bit more distance between you and your first MJ.”

“This isn’t like getting a new May or Tony, though–we were dating, and she’s still alive in that universe now. Heck, we’re still able to communicate, and even if she didn’t talk about it much in the letter, it’s pretty clear she knew we were dating there.”

“What if you asked her?”

He raised a brow. “What if I asked my girlfriend that doesn’t remember me, and who I was forced to leave behind in a different universe, if she would be okay with me dating an alternate version of her that doesn’t even know me as Peter Parker?”

“Well, when you say it like that it just sounds ridiculous.”

Peter couldn’t hold in a snort. “I can’t believe this is my life. If you had told me a few years ago that I would say that sentence . . .”

“Yeah. Mysterio was right about one thing: in the world we live in now, just about anything is believable. Even asking permission from your amnesiac girlfriend to date her universal alternate.

“In all seriousness, though, I agree with what Tony said earlier. Just–give it time. Don’t worry about all the steps right now, just the next one. Worry about the awkward letter exchange with your kind-of-ex-girlfriend later.”

Later. Yeah. Peter could get behind that idea.

/*/*/*/*/

He did his best to tap gently on the window, though MJ still jumped hard when she noticed him outside, her eyes widening as she slid it open. 

“Do you often come by strange young women’s rooms to watch them sleep?”

“You’re not asleep.” She never was this early. “And we’re not strangers, right? We’ve hung out at least twice now.”

“I suppose. And if the cats like you, then you can’t be all bad.”

“How’s that portrait going?”

“Almost finished. Your facial structure is hard to get right.”

Peter swallowed, resisting the urge to tuck a strand of curls back from her face. It would be too forward, too soon.

“Would it be easier without the mask?”

MJ blinked, leaning back. “You don’t . . . you don’t have to do that.”

“Can I come in?” He waited for her to nod before crawling through. “You already know, though, don’t you? Who am I?”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not usually one for guessing unless I’m completely sure, and I’m only about 86% on you.”

“Well, then it wouldn’t be much of a guess, right?”

Her lips thinned, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “If I’m wrong and you laugh . . .”

“I would never laugh at you.”

Peter held her gaze as she stared him down, measuring him and judging her surety in her suspicions. Despite her clear hesitations, she continued meeting his eyes when she finally said, “Ben?”

He flipped his hood down before pulling off the mask, glad he remembered to put on his Ben Reilly mask before suiting up.

“Hi, MJ.”

She was still staring at him, though trying not to show it. “I can’t believe you just did that. Why did you just do that? You–why would you–”

“Like you said, you had it figured out anyway. And I trust you. I know you won’t, like, go to the press or something.”

“N-no, of course not. But this, this is real? I was right, you’re actually Ben Reilly?”

“Come on, give yourself some credit.”

She smiled. “I can’t believe I figured it out first. I was the first, right? And are you sure you thought this through all the way? Like, would this change anything at school, or–”

“Nothing needs to change. I just wanted you to know you were right. And as for what’s next–well, I’m just trying to take things one step at a time for now.”

MJ nodded, still looking like she was waiting for someone to pull the rug and shout that it was a joke. “Yeah. Sure. No, wait–” she turned, grabbing something off her desk. “You should have this.”

He looked down at the sketch of his mask and hood. It had come a long way since lunch that day.

“I thought it wasn’t done?”

“You mean it isn’t good enough for the original?”

Peter blushed. “No! Of course it is. I’ll put it in a place of honor–hidden somewhere deep where no one can connect it to my identity.” That got a snort out of her, and Peter grinned. “Thanks, MJ. For . . . being such a good friend.”

She nodded, before lightly shoving him towards the window, handing him his mask. “Now get out of here. We have school tomorrow, and if someone sees Cosmic here you’ll have a different sort of accusation to deal with than Mysterio was framing you for.”

In a different world, Peter would have leaned in to give her a quick kiss before donning his mask and swinging away. That was a few steps ahead, though, so he just gave her one last smile before pulling on his mask and jumping out the window.

/*/*/*/*/

Peter’s window-stealth-game really wasn’t on point tonight. Peter 599 immediately straightened from his perch on the top bunk when he slid open the glass; Peter chose to blame it more on the super hearing than any mistakes on his part, though.

“How did it go?”

He yanked his mask off once more, pulling open Peter 599’s dresser to pull out a spare pair of pajamas. “It went–fine. For now. It went as well as I could have asked, I suppose.”

“Good. Now go to bed, we have a test tomorrow.”

Peter smiled as he climbed into the bottom bunk. He did have a test tomorrow. Advanced Chemistry. He, Peter 599 and Ned had studied for it together in the library during their shared study period that afternoon, and had ended up giggling enough to earn nasty glares from the librarian. He had been glad MJ wasn’t in there with them, or he would have gotten worse than a glare. Ned did his handshakes with each of them before they left, and on the way to the car the Peters had ribbed and teased each other, just like real brothers.

They would go back to the tower after school tomorrow, where they’d work on a few updates to their suits Tony had thought of, and maybe play with Morgan before dinner; Natasha had taught her how to french braid recently, and Peter knew she wanted to show them her new skill. 

He may be back to dealing with school bullies and tests, but words couldn’t express how happy he was that anything bigger didn’t have to be dealt with alone anymore.

This was just one step. But unlike the year he’d endured after being forgotten, Peter could finally say that he was looking forward to all the ones after.