Archive of Our Own ^beta

One moment, Tony’s rifling through the fridge for the apricot jam, a slice of toast hanging out of his mouth, and the next, he’s . . . in a living room?

Tony drops his arms and shoves the rest of the toast in his mouth, looking around in surprise as he chews. It looks like some sort of family home—a cabin? Big, cushy couch, log walls, built-in tv. A glance out the windows shows snow-covered trees.

Nothing that would answer the questions of where is he and how did he get here?

“Um, what?”

Silence is his only answer.

At least, it is for several seconds, until there’s the sound of small feet on a wooden floor. Tony turns just in time to see a little pajama clad little girl—five, maybe six years old?—with chocolate-brown hair and beautifully brown eyes step into the room and stop dead, her eyes going wide. 

“Daddy?”

Tony doesn’t have time to process all of the implications behind that word before the little girl is slamming into his legs shrieking, “Daddy!” She sounds delighted, but also upset? Ope, and she’s starting to cry.

A few things click into place: first, that the girl is definitely Tony’s daughter. She looks too similar to him—and to Peter—to be anyone else’s. Second: he’s either dimension-travelled or time-travelled, and he doesn’t know which is worse, because with the way the little girl is acting . . .

Tony drops to his knees, wrapping the little girl in his arms. “Hey, there, I’m here. It’s alright.”

The little girl sniffs, mumbling into his shoulder. “Why’d you take so long, Daddy? You promised that you’d take me to the zoo, but you didn’t come back . . .”

Tony’s heart clenches. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

The little girl whimpers, burrowing deeper into his embrace.

There’s a sharp gasp, and Tony looks up to find Pepper standing in the same doorway that the little girl had come through, a blue iron man gauntlet on one hand. 

For a long moment Tony stares, because Pepper looks older. She’s still as beautiful as ever, but the lines on her face have deepened and her hair has gotten lighter as white mixes with the golden-red. She’s also staring right back at him with wide eyes that are shimmering with tears.

There’s a wedding ring on her left hand. And judging by the features in the little girl’s face that aren’t Tony’s, she’s the little girl’s mom.

Right, well, the options are shaping up to either be dimension and time travel or just time travel. Tony still can’t decide which is worse.

When Pepper looks like she’s about to snap out of her shock, Tony mouths, What’s her name?

Pepper blinks, her brow furrowing, and Tony glances down at the little girl in his arms in elaboration.

After a moment, Pepper gets it, mouthing back what Tony slowly deciphers as Morgan.

Like your weird uncle? Tony mouths in surprise.

That startles a soft, broken laugh out of Pepper and her eyes start welling with tears.

Tony shoots back a teasing wink, then looks down at Morgan. “Hey, Morgan, Can I ask you something?” he asks softly.

Slowly, Morgan pulls back, sniffing. She looks up at him—Where on earth did his kids get the puppy dog eyes from, honestly—and nods.

“Can you tell me today’s date? The full date?”

Morgan’s expression twists confusion, but she dutifully answers, “February 7th, 2024.”

Tony lets out a slow breath. 2024. Okay. Nearly six years into the future. Which makes sense, considering Pepper’s appearance and Morgan’s age. 

Comprehension dawns on Morgan’s face, then her expression crumples. “You’re not my Daddy, are you? Or—not the right version. You time travelled?”

Yeah, Morgan’s definitely his daughter. “Time travelled or dimension travelled, yeah. I’m not sure how, though.” Tony scrunches his nose. “I was just looking for the jam.”

Morgan giggles, but then she goes sad again, burrowing into Tony’s chest.

“When are you from?” Pepper asks, her voice wobbly. Tony looks up to find that the gauntlet has seemingly morphed into a watch—that would be his nanotech, then—and that Pepper is leaning against the doorway.

“April 16th, 2018.”

Morgan gasps into Tony’s chest, mumbling, “That’s a long time ago,” but Pepper has gone very, very still.

Something’s wrong.

“Pep?” Tony asks. 

Pepper inhales sharply, then says, “Morgan, darling, can I talk to your Daddy alone for a minute?”

A flurry of emotions run through Tony at that, but he shoves them away. Now isn’t the time.

Morgan makes a whining sound in protest, and Tony presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll be okay, Morgan. We can talk more afterwards.”

Morgan slowly pulls away, and Pepper puts something on the tv for her to watch before she leads Tony out of the room.

They settle in the kitchen, but before Tony can say anything, Pepper pulls out her phone. “I—um. I’m going to call someone. They should be able to tell whether you dimension travelled or time travelled, which is, um, important.”

“Who’s ‘someone’?” Tony asks lightly.

The corner of Pepper’s mouth twitches upwards. “A sorcerer.”

Tony stares for a long moment. “We have wizards now?”

Pepper merely hums as the line starts ringing.

Needless to say, it doesn’t take long for the wizard to show up. Tony had almost fallen off his chair when the portal—because magic portals were apparently real, and honestly, what had this world come to—opened, but everyone graciously pretended that it hadn’t happened.

Three spells, one confirmation of Tony’s identity, one confirmation of time travel—and only time travel, and doesn’t that just make Tony’s stomach flip—and several hours of explanation later, Tony wants to murder an oversized grape. There’s another thirty minutes of Pepper running down what everybody is doing in the current time, catching him up on the Avengers and company friends and even her extended family.

Except, someone is missing.

“What about Peter?” Tony asks.

Both Pepper and the wizard stare at him blankly for a long moment, and dread crawls down Tony’s spine.

Finally, Pepper asks, “Who’s Peter?”

Who’s—

“Spider-Man,” Tony elaborates, his heart pounding.

The wizard inhales sharply. “You knew him?”

Tony stares. “I—yes, I knew him! Know him!” He turns on Pepper. “Why don’t you?” The three of them had had dinner together barely two nights ago—

“That would sort of be my fault,” the wizard says, and Tony snaps back around to glare at him. The wizard winces, raising his hands in appeasement. “I don’t actually remember most of what happened—all I know was that I had to erase all knowledge of Spider-Man’s secret identity to prevent the world from ending.”

A beat. Then two.

“You WHAT?”

“Look, Stark, I didn’t have a choice—”

“Don’t you give me that,” Tony hisses, shooting to his feet. “Don’t you dare.”

With that, Tony storms out of the room. It doesn’t take him long to find a computer—less advanced than his usual interface, but still a top of the line SI model—and start researching.

And has to fight rising nausea as he finds nothing. Even when he hacks into government systems, there is no trace of Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark. He simply doesn’t exist.

Spider-Man does, though, although in all the videos that were taken over the last handful of months his suit looks like it’s made out of soft, vulnerable cloth that would barely protect him more than his original onesie would. Tony’s adrenaline spikes with every hit Peter—because it’s still undoubtedly Peter under the mask, he moves the same, and that’s his voice making stupid quips—takes, until all he wants to do is snatch Peter out of the screen and wrap him in bubble wrap.

After forty minutes of videos, Tony makes up his mind. He makes his way back to the kitchen, where Pepper and the wizard are talking to each other in low voices, and asks, “Can you do your portally-thingy to bring Peter here?”

The wizard straightens, frowning. “I can, but—”

“No buts,” Tony snaps. “Do it. And maybe give him the run-down that he’s seeing a time-traveller before you come back.”

“Tony?” Pepper asks, but Tony doesn’t look away from the wizard.

The wizard winces. “Alright. Just don’t panic if it takes a minute.” With that, another orange-gold portal swirls into existence, and then the wizard’s gone.

“Tony, what’s going on?” Pepper asks firmly, standing. 

Tony presses his lips together. “You’ll see.”

It takes almost five minutes before another portal opens, and the wizard is followed by a red and blue figure who’s asking, “—who am I seeing? Is this an Avengers thing, ‘cause—Miss Pepper? What—” That’s when Peter freezes, staring at Tony. Tony can tell that he’s gaping, even through the mask, and he takes the moment to look Peter over as best he can. He’s taller—taller than Tony, now, he’d say, though just by a bit.

“Peter?” Tony says, stepping forward.

“Wha—” Peter squeaks, his voice high, “Dad?”

Tony ignores Pepper’s and the wizard’s exclamations in favor of lunging forward, grabbing his son in the tightest hug he can muster. “Oh, bambino, I’m so sorry—”

“Dad,” Peter says again, but this time he sounds more like he’s crying. He’s holding onto Tony just as tightly as Tony’s holding onto him, so Tony ends up being the one who tugs the masks off of Peter’s head, because he wants to see his son’s face and if Peter is crying, crying in that thing can’t be fun. 

Tony’s met with Bambi eyes and messy chocolate curls, and yep, Peter’s crying, eyes red and tears making his cheeks shine, but then Peter’s burying his face in Tony’s shoulder, his body shaking with his sobs, and Tony wants to never, ever let go.

“I’m so sorry, bambino, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to leave you alone.”

Peter keens, then Tony is catching him as he crumples, gently lowering them both until they’re kneeling on the ground. “Easy there, Pete, what—”

That’s when Tony finally processes how thin Peter feels in his arms. He pulls back, looking Peter over, and he does not like what he finds. “Peter, have you been eating enough?”

Peter ducks his head in a way that’s all too familiar, and Tony’s stomach twists. “Hey, no, there’s no shame here, bambino,” he says, gently placing his hands on either side of Peter’s face, lifting his head. “I’m just worried.”

Peter bites his lip, not meeting Tony’s gaze. He shakes his head. “Can’t afford it,” he mumbles.

Can’t afford—

“Don’t have a transcript, or work history, or even a social security number,” Peter hiccups. “I can’t—can’t get a good enough job. Barely make rent.”

Okay, no. No way was one of Tony’s kids ever going to have to deal with that, not ever—

“I’m gonna fix that,” Tony says fiercely. “I’m here now, and I’m gonna fix that, I swear—and maybe make you a new suit while I’m at it,” he adds, studying Peter’s current suit. “I mean the craftsmanship is excellent, but it’s cloth. I don’t want you getting shot, Pete.”

Peter laughs, and it’s cracked and wet but it’s so beautiful at the same time, and Tony pulls Peter in until their foreheads are pressed together. 

“Also,” Tony adds after a few moments, “I’m going to punch a wizard.”

Peter snorts, but then quickly shakes his head, pulling back a bit. “It wasn’t his fault, Dad—”

“He erased you, Pete, that’s not okay—”

“It was either that or have every villain who’s ever known that Spider-Man is Peter Parker in the entire multiverse descend on New York at once,” Peter says miserably. “Doctor Strange didn’t want to do it, but I made him.

Tony blinks. “O-kay, you’re gonna have to explain that one to me.”

Peter’s stomach growls—loudly—and Tony tacks on, “But not before we get food. Wanna see if there’s the ingredients here to make lasagna?”

Peter perks up. “Nona’s recipe?”

“As if I’d ever use anyone else’s—you know me better than that, Underoos.”

Peter is actually smiling, now, the tears drying, and Tony helps him to his feet. 

Which is when they both remember that they’re not in the room alone.

The wizard looks sick to his stomach, guilt plainly written across his face. Pepper, meanwhile, looks close to tears, but she smiles warmly at Peter. 

“Right,” Tony mutters. “I need to reintroduce you.”

Peter winces. “Dad, you don’t have to—”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “If you start spewing some crap about not being a part of this family, then we’re not watching Star Wars tonight.”

“But—wait, Star Wars? Which one?”

“Well, I haven’t seen episode nine yet.”

Peter lights up. “I haven’t either!”

Tony smiles. “Guess we’re gonna have to watch it then.” Then he turns back to the other two—or more specifically, Pepper. “Pep, this is Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark, my firstborn. He’s better than me in every way, and I fully intend for him to inherit Stark Industries someday.”

Peter’s face almost matches his suit.

“Hello, Peter,” Pepper says warmly. 

“Hey, Miss Pepper,” Peter greets shyly.

“Just Pepper is fine, if you’re comfortable with it. You are technically my stepson, after all,” she teases gently.

Peter gapes for a moment, then swallows. “Uh, okay Mi—uh, Pepper.”

Pepper smiles.

“Speaking of kids, I’ll need to introduce you to your sister later,” Tony says. “I think she fell asleep.”

Peter squeaks. “My—”

Tony grins. “Yup. Want to help me start the lasagna?”

Peter blinks a few times, caught off-guard by the change in topic. “I—yeah. Sure.”

(Later, Tony will have a long discussion with the wizard. The wizard has to return him to his own time to preserve the time stream, so the wizard locks the new memories away—at least until the infinity stones are on Tony’s hand. Then Tony remembers, and when he snaps, he focuses on three things instead of one, the way that only a genius can—the first, the dusting of Thanos’ army. The second, flinging his past self to the future. The third—well, it works, as the world brightens again after it fades. He goes from the battlefield, a crying Pepper gently holding him, to his living room floor, ten minutes after the wizard sent his past self back.

His family is ecstatic.)