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Peter is disoriented as he approaches the house.
The sounds of the woodland floor grate his eardrums, the chill of wind is biting, and the once-comforting scent of a home-cooked meal wafting from the kitchen window makes him grimace. There are small wooden blocks sitting on the porch steps, colorful letters and shapes, haphazardly abandoned in a precarious stack. He kicks them over as he steps up onto the porch, a wave of guilt stirs deep in his chest from hoping those pristine blocks would stain with mud.
He doesn’t want to be here. The world as he knew it is gone – a blip, they call it – such an innocent name for catastrophe. The front door is menacing, with a slight patina on the knob from hands big and unfortunately, small, opening and closing it over time – over years.
It felt like an instant to him.
“Wait up, Peter!” Happy calls from the car, parked at a diagonal in the leaf-littered driveway. He steps out with a big gift box tucked under his arm and a brown paper bag clinking with bottles of wine. They picked them up at a small shop on the way here. The store owner knew Happy well, so he asked about the Starks, asked about Morgan.
It wasn’t fair.
“I asked if you needed help, Hap,” Peter puts on his best grin – he has been practicing it for days in his mirror, ever since he knew this dinner was happening. “Here,” He shuffles back down the porch steps, arms outstretched, “Let me carry the-” Before he can finish, Happy is handing him the gift box. He resists the urge to drop it.
“Thanks, kid,” Happy nods, beeping the car lock and stuffing the keys into his jacket pocket. “Now let’s get inside. Pepper said they have appetizers for us. We're getting the Mrs. Stark three-course specialty.”
Mrs. Stark.
That sounds wrong, so wrong that Peter stalls out for a moment, standing in the driveway with a mile-long stare, beyond the trees and into the autumn fog. His breath is caught in his throat and his lips feel dry. Seconds blink past and for a moment, he wants to get back in the car. He can't do this. He couldn't do it in the aftermath of saving the world. Couldn't do it as he resuscitated Tony on the battlefield after the snap. He couldn't do it when they were portalling to the hospital, and he can't do it here. He can't acknowledge Mrs. Stark.
"Hey Pete, you coming?" Happy interrupts Peter's spiral like flipping a breaker switch back on. It's sudden and a bit frantic, like Peter was caught red-handed with all his lights out.
He blinks.
"Uh… yeah!" He hurries forward, fake smile and obnoxious gift in tow, following Happy up the steps.
"Everything alright, kid?" Happy is concerned; Peter sees it in every wrinkle of his face.
"Yeah, yes, absolutely!" Peter wonders if that sounds convincing enough, so he continues for good measure. "I was just looking around. It's nice out here, with the lake and all. It's quiet. Homey."
"Oh! Right, right, I keep forgetting this is your first time here with all of the—" Happy pauses and gestures conically with his free hand like it would somehow summon the right words, but he shrugs at the end of it. "— the everything." He gives a dejected chuckle, "Wouldn't have pegged Tony as a cabin-in-the-woods guy but Morgan and Pepper love it… the calm, you know. First year after the snap was hard but this worked for them, and now, I mean—" Another pause, he pairs with a hefty sigh and two raised brows. "—time travel! He cracked time travel to get you all back. Everyone fought so hard, and Nat, she… I'm sure she's celebrating like the rest of us are."
Celebrating. Peter wants to stop him there. Anger rips into a boil in his gut and he wants to throw the stupid gift box as far as he can and scream, but he can't. He knows the world is saved – he knows Natasha would be happy about it – so he takes a deep breath, smiles in that practiced way and he nods. He lies. "You're right, Hap. Everything really worked out."
Happy smiles and the conversation ends but before he can knock, the door swings open.
Eye-level is painful; an immediate picture of domestic bliss in the form of wine mom department store decor and color-coordinated throws and pillows. The scene makes Peter’s skin crawl but below eye-level hits him even worse.
“Happy!”
A little girl shorter than where the doorknob sits is clutching a bear and bouncing on her heels, giggling as she jumps forward to hug Happy. She’s wearing Spider-Man pajamas.
Great. Just great.
Happy returns the hug with a belted-out laugh and the familiarity of someone lucky enough to be spared from Thanos’ culling. “Well hi, little missy! How are you?”
Morgan looks like him – like Tony. She’s all smiles and brown hair, and Peter swears that the upturned corner of her mouth is a Tony Stark smirk. Even the way she sasses Happy about calling her little rings with Tony’s flare. She’s his – undoubtedly and unfortunately his.
“Hi, I'm Morgan, I'm four and three-quarters, and I like cheeseburgers! What’s your name?”
Morgan’s innocence makes Peter’s stomach turn with another wave of guilt. He glances back towards the car – it’s quick and overrun with thoughts of escaping this dinner – but then his eyes travel back to her. He smiles again and settles into a squat that puts him eye-to-eye with her. An answer rolls off his tongue, like an autopilot programmed by his years of being a friendly neighborhood superhero. “Hi Morgan, my name’s Peter. Seventeen and a half, plus five years or something? Um… I really like your pajamas. Spider-Man, right?”
Her face lights up like Christmas had come a month early and her hair bounces wildly from her enthusiastic nods. “Yeah! He saved my dad’s life! So he’s my favorite superhero but don’t tell my dad that I said that,” She leans in, whispering with a mischievous glint in her eye. “He gets jealous.”
Peter doesn’t hold back his snort or the belly laugh that follows. It’s genuine and if he wasn’t so well-practiced at keeping his emotions at bay, it probably would have devolved into tears. Morgan is so much like Tony that it hurts. He fixes his fake smile back on and replies, “Your secret’s safe with me, Morg.”
“I like him!” Morgan exclaims toward Happy, all matter-of-fact with hands at her hips like she picked a puppy at a pet store. She gives a silly giggle, turning back to Peter with an outstretched hand, “Let’s be friends, Peter.”
Peter has to hold his breath as he shakes her tiny hand. It’s too small and too big all at once. A tiny innocence that grew in seconds, as far as Peter’s concerned, but he swallows his guilt. Literally and figuratively, clearing his throat before flashing his most honest expression yet: a solemn stare with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and a tense close-mouthed smile, “Let’s be best friends, Morg.”
“Please don’t let Morg become a thing.” It's Pepper. Pepper Stark. “Happy, didn’t I tell you and Tony that we are not letting Morg become a thing.”
Happy’s shoulders jump up and down with laughter as he’s ushered into the house with a wave of Pepper’s hand. She doesn’t look that different; same hair, same gait, same style, just motherly in the way she reaches for Morgan’s hand, gently guiding her aside to make room for Happy as he steps into the house.
“Come on, give us a break, Pep! It’s cute!” Happy argues.
“It’s morbid,” Pepper shoots back with a grin of her own but then she pauses, her silent stare trailing to Peter. There’s nothing but concern in her eyes. “Are you coming in, Peter?”
Peter has to take another breath – it’s more obvious, abrupt, deep – it raises some brows but he can’t help this one as it punches out of him like a war-torn trauma response. He shuffles forward, clinging to his composure as he places the gift box just inside the doorframe. “Yeah, yeah, give me a second, left something in the car.” He knows the excuse isn’t bought but it’s enough to get him back down those porch steps, facing nothing but an abyss of trees that he wishes he could disappear in.
Would it be better if I was never brought back?
The thought comes and goes like a lightning strike on the horizon. It startles like one too. Loud and fractalling and burning in his mind as his better judgment stumbles forward and overtakes it. He runs a hand through his curls, frustration in his brow and tension in his shoulders, blinking and huffing out heavy breaths to hold back tears. It’s messy and confusing, but all he’s thinking about is pulling himself together before he ruins something.
“Pete?” It’s Pepper’s voice that comes after him – he cringes at the wave of disappointment that rolls through him.
Peter doesn’t say a word. He just looks at her, standing there in her cardigan with the lakeside home as her backdrop and that ring on her finger.
Nausea and self-pity and burning eyes and clenched teeth.
“What?” He’s rude.
“I know how you must be feeling, Peter,” She starts in the exact way she shouldn’t.
“No, you don’t!” Peter snaps, louder than intended, the echo across the lake makes him flinch. “Sorry, but… you don’t.”
Peter doesn’t know what to expect from her. Anger, maybe? A few lines drawn in the sand to keep him in check around her family. Condescension would be surprising but at least it wouldn’t be whatever she’s doing right now, with all that apologetic sympathy flooding her face. Peter’s guilt gives him another quick jab to his gut.
“You’re right, and I’m sorry. I only came out here to thank you and hope that you’ll come inside to eat.”
Peter squints, “Thank me?”
“For doing what I couldn’t,” Pepper takes a step forward and Peter steps back, bumping against the car.
“What are you talking about?”
“For saving Tony,” She explains, her hands clasped together over her heart. “You know, when Tony built me that suit, Morgan always said that she felt so happy to know that when daddy’s in trouble, mommy will rescue him.” Her hands fall, her eyes squeeze shut, and her voice stutters. “But I froze, Peter.”
He has the urge to yell at her again but he also wants to comfort her and tell her that it's okay. “Pepper, you didn-”
“No, let me finish,” She interrupts, hand held up to stop him from saying what they were both thinking. “I froze. When Tony took his last breath, I couldn’t move or think but you—” She inhales and looks up like she's seconds from losing a fight with her own tears. “—Peter, you didn’t give up on him. You tried everything out there, you got everyone moving to save him even when he wasn’t breathing, and I just stared. I’m so glad you were there, I don’t want to think about what would have happened if… if you weren’t there, Peter.” She lets out a shaky exhale. “So thank you.”
Peter is stunned for a moment, eyes flickering between her and the ground and the trees and the lake and that fucking house. “I didn’t do it for you.”
Pepper nods without an ounce of denial, “I know.”
“Do you? Do you really?” Peter feels himself losing control. How can everyone be so calm when his reality has turned upside down? It would have been better if Pepper was angry. He could deal with angry – not this. “Has Tony even told you about-!”
“Yes,” Pepper answers before Peter can finish. “He told me about you and him – about your relationship.”
“And you don’t care? You’re not angry? Shocked? Nothing? Is what Tony and I had so insignificant that you just don't care about it at all?”
Pepper goes quiet for a moment, long enough to hear the leaves rustle. Her arms cross, clutching around her torso, self-soothing. There is tension in her face as she says it. “He told me about it five years ago, Peter.”
Peter bites his lip and turns around, his vision is clouded with tears and he contemplates running away, web-swinging through the trees until he is far enough away for no one to hear him cry. “That’s not fair,” He breathes out, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. "None of this is fair!"
“It’s not, Pete," Pepper sighs, approaching him carefully and placing a gentle hand against his shoulder. "I’m sorry.”
“I want to hate you so much,” Peter whispers, shrugging her hand off of him. “I want to hate Morgan so much, but…” He sighs, dropping his face against his palms, body falling into a squat as his breaths stutter and tears stream out the corners of his eyes.
He sobs, “I can’t fucking do this.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, kid.”
Fuck. It’s Tony.
Peter thought he was more prepared than this but his entire body flinches upright and recoils a few steps down the driveway before he can stop himself. His mind catches up with his body just in time to see the concern in Tony’s eyes.
He looks better. The bandages that used to be on his neck are gone now and the scarring is setting in, likely all over his shoulder and down his arm. His bruises have yellowed on his jaw and cheekbone, and his hair has grown back everywhere except a few scarred areas above his ear. His arm is in a sling but his hand is in a suit gauntlet, probably to keep it locked in a single position.
Peter sighs and swipes away another round of tears, seeing Tony's recovery – seeing Tony – it helps him find his calm again but his heart still quakes with rage. "Why did you want me to come over today, Tony? I said no so many times but you just couldn't resist, could you?” He scoffs, “What? Did you just want to rub all of this in my face?"
His words are harsh, more than the wind that picks up for a moment and bites at his ears with a chill. Tony looks hurt – good, be hurt, Peter thinks, and his guilt doesn't attack him in the same way as it did for Morgan and Pepper.
Tony sighs, “I pushed for you to come over because I missed you, Pete – selfish as always, I know – but you’re the only one I haven’t seen yet and you saved me after the snap, and I-”
“Don't you dare say that you missed me!” Peter draws the line in the sand first.
“Kid, I did miss you! I thought about you every day,” Tony says but as he does, his eyes blink over to Pepper. It's brief, a stray glance so easily misinterpreted.
“Says the man with the wife and kid,” Peter taunts, spiteful yet shaky. “You didn’t think about me at all! You thought about wedding plans and changing diapers. If you thought about me, you would’ve figured this out in year one! But you waited! For five fucking years, Tony! You waited. Some genius you are!”
Pepper gasps, stepping backward and looking at Tony with tears in her eyes. It's not anger or resentment – it's more concern like Peter was steamrolling over progress and scorching the earth in his wake.
Tony takes a deep breath and steps closer, only an arms-length away. “You know that’s not how that works, Pete.” He inhales, slow and shaky, puffing it all at once, his eyes watering. “ I tried but the science didn’t add up until we had the quantum tunnel and the tests were never repeatable and-”
“Don’t patronize me, Tony,” Peter rolls his eyes but he can feel the tears still sliding down the contours of his cheeks and chilling in the wind. “I know how science works but I also know you gave up!”
"You think I gave up on you?!" Tony raises his voice, "Peter, I tore myself apart trying to get you back!"
"So why the fuck is Morgan four?!" Peter yells just as loud. "Don't lie to me, Tony! Just say it! Say you never loved me! Say you never wanted to be with me!" He reaches into the collar of his shirt, pulling out his necklace, a small chain with a silver-banded ring hanging from it. “Tell me!” He holds it up between their gazes. "Tell me that this never mattered to you!"
Tony gasps and looks away, lifting his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose in frustration. He sighs, “Peter, I don’t want to argue with you.”
“Right,” Peter’s breath is wet from all his sobbing. “You just want me to smile and be a nice house guest. You want me to forget about everything we had.”
“Peter, it was five years ago, you couldn’t expect me to-”
“It was last month!” Peter screams – it echoes over the lake just like before but he doesn’t flinch this time “It’s been one month! I hate that everyone keeps saying five years! You gave me this ring two months ago. We went on that trip together three months ago!” He reaches for Tony’s hand, clasping it, trembling. “Please stop making me feel like you don’t care.”
“Peter, it’s not that I don’t care, but… my feelings have changed." Tony sighs again. "It's been a long time for me. I care for you and I have love for you, but not like I did when I gave you that ring. I'm sorry.” He looks down at their hands, "I was too selfish for wanting to see you now. I just wanted to thank you for saving me. I wanted you to meet my daughter, Pete. I wanted to work in the lab with you again, but… I was wrong. I understand now, okay?" He looks up, locking his gaze with Peter’s. "You deserve time too. I'm sorry for pushing you."
Peter desperately shakes his head, "Tony, I don't want time. I want you!"
"No, Peter," Tony pulls his hand away. "I don't want to hurt your feelings but you have to understand, I-"
"No Tony,” Peter sobs, pleading. “Please don't say it."
"I don't want you anymore, Peter."