Archive of Our Own ^beta

The red wasteland of a planet seemed to stretch on endlessly, almost taunting in its scale and destruction; laughing at Peter for ever daring to try and be a part of a battle so overwhelming that entire planets had buckled and broken under its force.

They’d been so close to pulling the gauntlet off Thanos, and then he’d been shielding Mantis as they were sent tumbling recklessly through the dusty air, then there’d been the debris of an entire moon falling at enormous speeds and he’d swung from one place to another to catch everyone, and then-

And then.

He’d watched from afar, unable to help without jeopardizing the safety of his newfound allies, as Thanos overpowered both Doctor Strange and Iron Man. As he tore Strange’s web of bindings to ribbons. As he countered Mr Stark’s repulsors and shoved the engineer’s own weapon through his stomach-

Peter had wanted to look away at that point, had uttered a choked off scream of anguish, but he couldn’t; it was a disaster, and he couldn’t turn away, no matter how horrified it made him to watch.

And then Dr Strange gave up the Time Stone - Peter’s mouth went dry, and he tried to wrestle down the warring emotions between relief because Mr Stark is alive , and terror because Thanos only has one stone left.

Then Quill had rocketed his way over and shouted a question - and Peter had tuned his enhanced hearing in to listen as he dropped to the ground to approach with the rest of the group, now that there was finally a reprieve from the battle.

“Did we just lose?” Quill asked, a desperate sort of hope just lining his words.

There was no reply, and that was as good an answer as any. Peter stood, frozen, atop a ledge not too far from the battle site, his heartbeat in his ears. He saw Mr Stark fix his gaze on Dr Strange, and voice the same question that had been ringing in his ears since Dr Strange just gave the stone away.

“Why would you do that?” And Mr Stark was so quiet, so unlike his usual, loud, charismatic self that it broke Peter, just a little. He thought Mr Stark sounded sort of broken, too.

Dr Strange turned to Mr Stark, and said, jaw set, “We’re in the endgame now.” And Peter sort of wanted to laugh. Or cry. He was pretty sure either would be hysterical, though, and he felt all sorts of breathless - painful, like he couldn’t draw air into his aching lungs.

They all just stayed, still, for a while, the silence deafening as white noise rang in Peter’s ears. And then, he walked down the ledge. “There-” he cut himself off - voice too weak and cracking to be heard, or listened too - and cleared his throat, “there has to be another way.”

He cringed at how childish, how desperate he sounded. But he just wanted it to be a bad dream. Or a story in a children’s book; at least, then, the good guys would win, in the end. At least, then, he’d know they’d get a happy ending.

Life seemed to hate happy endings.

The group’s heads turned to him when he spoke, eyes full of pity that made his skin crawl - but then, in Mr Stark’s, determination. It lit a fire in Peter’s chest, seeing that familiar look that always came before the ingenuity of his mentor.

“There is… something,” Mr Stark said, tone cautious and schooled so as to not be too optimistic, “It was just an idea, nothing concrete, there’s no way of knowing if it’ll even work-”

“That doesn’t matter,” Quill cut in, voice hard and full of regret, “we have to try everything. Anything.” Mantis stepped up beside him, standing close in a comforting manner. Even Drax was - from what Peter had seen - uncharacteristically quiet.

Mr Stark’s eyes drifted to Dr Strange, and he sighed heavily as he pushed himself to stand, using the nearby debris as support. “I had… an idea, a few years back, for a sort of.” He paused. Huffed out a breath. Closed his eyes. “Time machine.”

A beat.

“ What? Why wouldn’t you bring that up earlier?” Quill sounded completely lost, and Peter couldn’t help but agree - albeit silently - with the questions. Why not use something so useful?

“ Because ,” Mr Stark said, opening his eyes and fixing Quill with a hard stare, “it’s completely theoretical, and there’s no way of knowing if it’ll work or not, or how dangerous it is. It’s a last resort.”

Another silence, longer this time.

“Well, now’s the time for last resorts, right?” Peter said, tentatively.

Mr Stark gave him a weak, pained smile. “That it is, kid.”

“The kid’s right.” Dr Strange said with a sigh, “We need every chance we can get.” He turned to Mr Stark. “How does this theoretical time machine work?”

“I won’t get into the specifics, there’s no time for that, but it works off the principle that time travel is possible, if only to travel back to as far as the first time machine you built.” He explained, pretty succinctly, “It wouldn’t transfer your consciousness, but takes advantage of time being a concept and not an absolute.”

Dr Strange seemed frozen at that, and took a few moments to respond, “That… would ignore the use of the multiverse in order to create an offshoot universe at the moment of the travel. It would change our timeline, if it were possible, it’s-”

“Extremely risky, I know.” Mr Stark breathed out, “Which is why I never tried to use it.”

The weight of the reveal seemed to make the air thick around Peter, every breath loud and grating in his chest. He could feel dust crawling into his mouth and settling in his throat. He could feel his heartbeat in his every extremity.

“Would that mean…” Quill said, breaking the silence, “anyone who died since then, would they be alive?”

That seemed to suck the air away entirely, leaving them in baited silence as-

“Well, yes,” Dr Strange answered, “since none of it would have happened, we wouldn’t remember it and anything since then would be… undone.”

Quill swallowed thickly. “Okay. Okay. I vote for this, we- we have to try everything, right? We can’t just let Thanos win.” He spat out the alien’s name like it was the devil itself, and Peter could understand the sentiment.

“Whatever it takes, right?” Mr Stark asked, looking to Dr Strange - who seemed pained at the prospect of everything they were suggesting. Then he sighed heavily, and locked eyes with Mr Stark.

Dr Strange breathed deeply, “What’s our window for this, how far can we go back?”

“I built it with Bruce back during-” Mr Stark paused, pained, “in early 2015.”

“Alright. It’s… back on Earth, I assume?”

“Yeah. In my lab in the Compound.”

“Then we better begin.” Dr Strange said, determination in his features, “We don’t have much time, Thanos could be getting the Mind Stone as we speak.”

“Who goes back?” Quill asked.

They all paused.

“Well,” Mr Stark started, “it probably shouldn’t be one of the Guardians, it’d be hard to convince the people we need on our side if they don’t know you.”

Before anyone else could argue, Dr Strange cut in, “it has to be the kid.”

Peter froze. All heads turned to the sorcerer, varying degrees of concern or outrage on their faces. Mr Stark was the first to speak. “What?” He sounded outraged, “You want to put this all on the shoulders of, like you said, a kid?”

Peter felt underwater, drowning under the enormity of this task - and warring with two sides of his emotions. On one hand, he hated that Mr Stark didn’t trust him to do this. On the other, it warmed him that the man seemed concerned for his safety.

Dr Strange sighed. “There’s no other way. He’s enhanced, for one, so he’s the most likely to survive the journey. Not to mention the risks of there being two of the same person from the same universe in one timeline.”

“There would still be two Peter Parkers, wouldn’t there? What’s the difference?” Mr Stark persisted, undeterred.

“The difference ,” Dr Strange scowled, “is that you’d be working in close proximity to your past self, possibly for several years. Which leaves lots of room for anomalies and errors. Not to mention ,” he continued, before Mr Stark could interrupt again, “what would you do after, when there are two of you? Are you telling me you’d be content to sit back and live in the shadows? You couldn’t be Tony Stark to the public anymore.”

The two stared each other down, unwavering, tension electrifying the air between them. Mr Stark opened his mouth to speak again, when-

“I’ll do it.” Peter said, quietly, breaking through the haze. Their eyes snapped to him, each filled with different brands of determination, concern, and sorrow. “You said so yourself, Mr Stark. ‘Whatever it takes’.” Regret filled his mentor’s eyes at his parroted words, but Peter soldiered on through the sharp pain in his heart. “And, no matter what you think, I’m a part of all this. I’m not gonna sit on the sidelines and watch half the universe die.”

Dr Strange nodded at him, then looked at Mr Stark, raising an eyebrow, “Brave kid you’ve got there, Stark.”

“The best.” Mr Stark agreed, gently, keeping his eyes on the kid as he spoke and filling Peter’s chest with pride. A moment of silence. A deep breath. “Alright then, Wizard of Oz, how do we get the Spiderling back to Earth before the big grape kills half of everything in existence?” His tone was light and airy, but only superficially. Peter could hear the weight behind the words.

Dr Strange set his jaw, determined. “I’m going to open a portal, and,” he hesitated, “it’s going to kill me, so you’ll have to be quick, kid.”

Peter sucked in a sharp breath, then nodded once. So much death but, if he got it right, it would all be alright, in the end.

I just have to get it right.

Mr Stark nodded at the sorcerer as well, and they shared a knowing look. Then, he crossed the distance to Peter, looking him in the eyes. “You’re going to do great, alright Underoos?” Peter gulped, then jerked his head in a roughly affirmative motion. “I need you to listen very carefully now, okay? In my lab, tell Friday to activate Protocol I Am The Doctor,” Peter cracked a tentative smile, and Mr Stark reciprocated it, albeit briefly. “A panel in the far wall will open, and you need to put the code 743728, okay? Repeat after me, yeah? 743728.”

“743728,” Peter confirmed, carving it into his mind and clinging to it like a lifeline.

“Good, then you should put in a date, let’s say…” he paused to think, “25th of July, 2015. That should be enough time after-” he stumbled over his words, “after Ultron, and we should all be in the building then.”

“25th of July, got it.” He repeated.

“And, Peter?” Mr Stark asked, voice gentler.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got this, okay? I believe in you.”

Peter’s heart felt like it might crack at the goodbye hidden between the words, as he realised he’d never see this Mr Stark again; they were going to rewrite everything, and nothing would ever be the same. For once, Peter ignored his embarrassment and wrapped his arms around his mentor, melting into the embrace as it was returned after only a moment.

He felt tears well up in his eyes, and he pulled away, wiping them roughly. “I’ll see you soon, Mr Stark.”

Mr Stark nodded, “Yeah, kid. Now, go save the universe.” He said it in a playful tone, patting Peter’s shoulder, and it lifted his spirits.

“Something’s happening,” Mantis said, and Peter looked over- only to see her disintegrate into dust in front of his eyes. He froze, horrified, as the dust blew away in the wind. It was horrible; death and yet not all at the same time.

“It’s time.” Dr Strange cut in, breaking him from his daze. Peter turned to face him, and took a deep breath.

“Alright. Let’s do this,” Peter walked over as Dr Strange began to move his hands, conjuring orange magic at his fingertips. A spark lit in the air, and a portal began to open. Slowly. Painfully, if the sorcerer’s strained expression was anything to go by.

“Go!” Dr Strange yelled as the portal finally opened large enough. Peter ran and jumped through without hesitation, orange engulfing him as he saw Dr Strange collapse on the red landscape behind him, and then-

And then he was on Earth. In Mr Stark’s darkened lab. Alone. And the portal was closed.

He shook his head, clearing it so he could focus. “Friday?” He called out.

There was a short pause, in which Peter worried the AI might be down, or malfunctioning, or- “Yes, Mr Parker?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Activate protocol I Am The Doctor, quickly.”

There was no reply, only the quiet sound of a panel opening in the far wall. Peter ran over as quickly as he could, pulling it open to reveal a panel. “743728, 25th of July. 743728, 25th of July,” he mumbled to himself, over and over, begging his own mind not to forget. He punched in the code-

And the panel glowed red, making an error sound. “That code is incorrect,” Friday said, and Peter felt his blood go cold. “You have two more tries.”

“No. No, no, no, no, no !” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and then pressed each number in individually. Slowly. “7… 4… 3… 7… 2… 8.” He pressed the enter button and-

“That code is correct. Welcome, Doctor.” Friday’s voice rang loud and Peter had never felt such relief as it washed over him. He rolled his eyes at Mr Stark’s antics with the protocol naming and such, but was glad for the levity in the otherwise nightmarish situation.

He pulled the heavy metal door open and stepped inside the narrow metal chamber as it lit up around him, trying to keep his heart rate down in the small, enclosed space. Now was decidedly not the time for a panic attack. He pulled the door shut behind himself and turned to the panel, pushing in the date. “25th of July… 2015.”

He could see the earliest date possible was early May of the same year, and realised that must have been the date of the machine’s creation. He pulled himself out of his thoughts, ready to press the button to begin, and then-

Peter frowned, feeling an odd sense of incoming danger from his spidey sense and a strange tingling sense that… seemed…

His eyes went wide, and he rushed to push the button to send himself back. He couldn’t disappear, turn into dust, die, whatever. Not now. Not when he was so close .

And then the world went dark.

---

When he opened his eyes, he was still in the metal chamber. Which was worrying. But he wasn’t dust. Which was a good sign. He took a deep breath, and looked over to the door, activating the release latch and all but tumbling out onto the floor. He looked around as the lab automatically illuminated, and frowned, feeling a wave of anxiety rise in his gut. Had it not worked? Had he just delayed the inevitable? What-

But then he noticed the different placements of things, the moved around workbenches, the projects sitting half-finished that definitely hadn’t been there before. “Friday?” He called out, quietly, tentatively. “What’s the date? The- the whole date, like, year and all?”

There was a silence, and Peter felt his heart accelerate, but then. “It is currently the 25th of July, 2015.”

Peter breathed out a large sigh of relief, leaning against the wall and tilting his head back. It worked. It worked! He went back in time and now he could fix everything! He just needed to talk to everyone and figure it all out. He pushed himself off the wall, and frowned when he felt tingly and on-edge.

Though, to be fair, he had just traveled back in time in a highly experimental and untested time machine that utilized a different type of time travel than the normally accepted kind. He was changing his own universe.

So, he pushed past the discomfort and headed out of the lab, frowning when he made his way to the common room and found no one. “Friday?” He asked again, unsure, “Where’s Mr Stark? And the other Avengers?”

“They are currently outside, on the lawn,” she replied.

“Oh. Alright. Thanks,” he went to the nearest window, “Could you, um, open this window for me?” It opened, and he nodded his thanks, then launched himself out, using his web shooters to swing to the top of the building. He perched, looked around, and then spotted them all standing in a vague group. With a smile, he jumped off the roof and threw himself in their direction.

As he landed in the middle of a group of powerful superheroes, he realised he may not have had the best strategy. They all froze, turning to look at him, and pulled out various weapons.

“Who the hell-” “Where did he-” “Stand still-”

“Woah, hey, please don’t shoot,” Peter cried out, lifting his hands to cover his face as the Black Widow herself pointed a gun at him, “I’m a good guy, I- uh. Yeah.”

They narrowed their eyes at him, and Peter really wished he’d had a better plan.

“What the fuck ?” A younger version of his mentor broke the silence, repulsor pointed at Peter, “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m uh. Spider-Man?” He said, and cringed when it came out as more of a question. “I’m friendly, I promise.”

Hawkeye ( the actual fucking Hawkeye ) raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, because you’d definitely tell us if you were evil.” He said, dry.

“What is your-” Captain America began, and then paused, “are you a kid ?” They all seemed to falter at that.

“I’m not a kid! I’m nearly seventeen!” He protested.

“So, you’re sixteen.” The Black Widow said.

Mr Stark squinted, confused, then looked at the direction he’d come from, “Did he come from the Compound? Friday, why didn’t you alert me to an intruder?”

“He originated from inside your lab, boss,” a tinny voice replied from his watch, “and was therefore not classified as an intruder.”

Mr Stark frowned. “What do you mean, inside the lab?”

“He appeared inside the vessel for Protocol I Am The Doctor,” she clarified. Both Mr Stark paled.

The others seemed to pick up on the tension. Captain America spoke first, “What does that mean, Tony?”

He swallowed dryly, “It’s a last resort idea. A worst-case-scenario, end of the world, last ditch effort that is highly risky and completely untested.” The atmosphere became a lot more somber the longer he talked. “It’s…” he locked eyes with Peter, “basically a time machine.”

There was a shocked silence, and Peter chuckled nervously, “surprise?” He said it with jazz hands, but it was a weak effort.

“Putting aside that you built a time machine ,” Hawkeye said, glancing pointedly at the engineer, who had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, “why the hell would we send a kid back? And what happened?”

“Because…” any of Peter’s remaining levity was sucked out of the air, and he slumped, tired, rubbing his face in frustration, and then looked back up at them all, “because we lost. Badly. And there was no other way.”

The team became visibly tense, glancing at each other with set jaws and grim expressions.

“How bad?” Black Widow asked, quietly.

Peter chuckled, but there was no humor in it, “half the universe died. I-” He froze as the unease he’d been feeling began to rise like bile, and he paled in an instant. “Oh no.” He lifted his shaking hands to look at them, and let out another humorless huff of laughter. “There’s- there’s no time. I can’t- I have to tell you everything- but there’s no time -”

“Woah, woah,” Captain America attempted to calm him, “there’s plenty of time, son. Let’s move this inside and we can discuss everything-”

“ No! ” Peter exploded, full of regret and fear and desperation, “There’s no time , it’s happening- I thought I’d escaped but- oh god -” He felt the pressure as his enhanced healing fought against the inevitable pull, his spidey sense flaring louder than ever in his ears. “There has to be a way , there has to-” he mumbled frantically, then stilled, and breathed out in relief, smiling hysterically.

Pressing the emblem in the middle of his chest, the suit retracted into the cuffs on his wrists, which he quickly pulled off and threw onto the grass. Hopefully, from what he’d seen earlier, only things on him would disappear. Hopefully, it wasn’t over. “Listen, you have to- you have to look into the data in my suit, okay? Whatever it takes, you have to- you have to stop him-”

“Slow down, kid, what’s happening? Stop who?” Hawkeye asked, cutting him off.

“Thanos,” he breathed out, locking eyes with the man, “he got them all, all the infinity stones, and he killed- he killed half of everyone. I don’t have time -” The stricken looks on their faces made him chuckle again, but he wasn’t sure why. He could feel himself falling apart as he stumbled forward.

“Mr Stark-” he reached out for his mentor, mind clouded and fear ruling above all else as his spidey sense screamed in his ears and his very being was pulled apart at the seams, “Mr Stark, I don’t feel so good, I don’t-” he collapsed forward and, thankfully, was caught. He was so scared and uncertain and oh god he was dying .

He held onto the man with an uncoordinated grip, the world around him muted and hazy, “I don’t wanna go- I don’t wanna go, sir, please ,” he felt himself getting closer to the ground as he begged without restraint, “I don’t wanna go, please, I don’t wanna go- ” he sucked in a harsh breath as his back hit the ground, damp grass beneath his clothes, Mr Stark’s face above him, backlit by a bright sky that seemed to shine brighter than anything he’d ever seen.

He tried to force air through his lungs, but he couldn’t feel much of anything anymore, and the best he could do was a barely-there whisper, “I’m sorry.”

And then there was nothing.

---

The team stood, horrified, as the unknown teenager turned to dust that blew away in the breeze. Tony, down on the ground, was breathing harshly, almost shaking. There was silence, for a while.

“What-” Clint started, “what the hell just happened?”

A beat.

“If I had to say… the kid said that Thanos killed half the universe with the infinity stones, right?” Natasha said, slowly, “I think that was how he did it.”

Silence, again.

“I think we should end early, today,” Steve said, not too loud, as though he might break the trance over the field, “Tony, could you take a look at the tech the kid took off? He said it would have the answers.”

Tony just nodded mutely, still sitting on the wet grass, staring blankly at the empty space where the kid had been a moment before. Then, with a sharp breath, he tore his gaze away, and stood. “Right. I’ll get on that.” He grabbed the cuffs, and walked away.

Steve sighed, and ran a hand down his face. “Looks like we’ve got a lot of work cut out for us.”

---

The last thing Peter remembered was the feeling of damp grass beneath his back, and a gentle summer breeze on his skin. Being pulled apart, atom by atom. The warmth as his mentor held him. Then nothing.

The first thing he heard was distant birdsong. There was hard dirt beneath him, and a cold wind stinging his skin harshly. He opened his eyes, and there was a blue-gray sky above him, littered with clouds.

He breathed out, long and hard, and watched the mist his breath formed be stolen by the wind. He pushed himself up to sit, and glanced around. He was in the same field, but it seemed to be late winter; maybe early spring.

His mind was cloudy and filled with cotton balls, nothing was quite in focus, all just out of reach.

Then it all came rushing back, and he keeled over to throw up bile onto the ice-hard ground. He blinked a couple times, then pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, and looked around again. Shaking profusely as the cold finally caught up to him, he stumbled over to the Compound and breathed a sigh of relief when the doors opened for him.

He felt the sting of the sudden temperature change in his fingers, but relished in the sensation. He took another couple steps forward and then-

“Peter?”

He turned to see the source of such a hopeful voice saying his name, and his mouth went dry. “Mr Stark?”

The man chuckled brokenly, fast walking over as Peter took another step and then stumbled- and was promptly caught by his mentor. He melted into the touch, and then into the embrace that followed. There was silence, for a minute, and then Mr Stark pulled back, placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders and scanning his face. “Hi there, kid.”

“Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, huh?” Mr Stark said, slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders as he led him down a few corridors until they arrived at what seemed to be a big living room. Peter all but collapsed onto the couch, bringing his knees to his chest. “I’ll grab you a warm drink, Pete. How does hot chocolate sound?”

Peter just nodded, letting himself warm up and come back to reality as Mr Stark walked out into the kitchen that was joined to the room, making himself busy in there. By the time his mentor reemerged, Peter was feeling much more anchored in reality, and accepted the drink readily.

After a minute or two, he finally spoke. “What… what happened?”

Mr Stark smiled sadly from his spot next to Peter, taking a moment to answer. “After you appeared on our lawn and-” he broke off, glancing away with a painful look in his eyes, and then shook his head, “after you disappeared, I got into your suit and used the recordings and feeds to find out what had happened in your timeline, so we could…”

And Peter was sure Mr Stark was still talking, but suddenly he was underwater again and he couldn’t hear a word of it. Because at that moment Peter’s heart broke- because he remembered. Because, if it had gone right and he was back, then his original timeline was gone, lost in the wind, and this wasn’t his Mr Stark.It wasn’t the one who’d done lab days and movie nights and talked him through panic attacks. He’d never let Peter steal a hoodie or work on his Iron Man suit.

It was all gone.

He felt remarkably hollow, like something had reached in and scooped him out, and he bit back the urge to curl up in a ball and cry. He knew he’d succeeded in his mission, and yet. And yet, he’d felt like he’d lost.

“-eter? You there, kid?”

Peter was jerked back to reality by his ment- Mr Stark’s concerned voice. He nodded jerkily, meeting the man’s eyes for a moment and then looking away at the worry in them. “Y-yeah, just. It’s a lot.” He paused, and was glad Mr Stark didn’t try to fill the silence. “Did- did we win?”

Mr Stark smiled gently, placing a hand on Peter’s knee that burned with how much it made his heart ache. “Yeah, kid. We won, all ‘cause of you. We stopped Thanos early, made sure things on Earth turned out fine too, and then…” he trailed off, and looked Peter over once more, “and then we got you back.”

He breathed out, relieved, a weight he hadn’t known was there lifted off his shoulders, and then furrowed his brow. “How’d you do that? Get me back, I mean.”

“Ah,” Mr Stark averted his eyes, somewhat guiltily, “we, uh, used the stones. The cost was a lot less, since it was only one person, and we had a lot of superpowered beings willing to help since we got everyone together early, so.” He shrugged, as if he hadn’t just admitted they’d used the most powerful things in the universe just to get Peter back.

Peter felt lost. “What? W-why?”

“Why what, kid?”

“Why’d you go through all that trouble, if everything was done? Why risk it?” Peter asked, growing more confused and indignant by the second, tracing the lines on the couch with his fingers as he looked down, head bowed. “You don’t even know me.” And it should’ve sounded frustrated and angry, but it came out small and fragile and lost.

“But I do , Underoos.”

Peter’s head snapped up. He felt as though all the air had been stolen from his lungs. “What?”

“Not personally, I know, but,” he hesitated, and Peter’s heart dropped. Then Mr Stark sighed, “I spent a lot of time watching your suit logs, and some ones from the lab cameras that were saved there, too. It feels like I know you, kid, and,” he paused once more, as Peter reeled from the confession, “I’d like to get to know you properly, too.”

A few beats passed as Peter studied Mr Stark’s face and tried to figure out what to say. Finally, he found the answer in the look in his mentor’s eyes. They were the same as always. They sparkled with hope and uncertainty and love. “Okay,” he said, quietly, “okay.”

---

Peter woke to golden sunlight streaming through the window, and smiled gently. MIT was treating him well, and he was (somehow) managing to balance being Spider-Man alongside his studies. He didn’t think he’d ever stop being grateful that he hadn’t had to stop or rebrand, thanks to ripples in time that meant this timeline’s Peter Parker had never been bitten by the spider.

He supposed he didn’t have to mentally clarify between Peter Parker and himself anymore, not when he was a year or so older, and legally Peter Stark - making it much easier to avoid causing any paradoxes via being confused for or coming into contact with his alternate self. He missed his life, of course, but the ache would dull with time; it was already beginning to.

The moment he’d realised this timeline’s Ben was alive as well, it had solidified his decision to leave well enough alone. At least one Peter Parker deserved to be happy, right? Besides, though Ned might have used to be his only friend, he’d already made a few at MIT. His roommate Harry, was nice - if a little full of himself; and Gwen was sunshine in spring and a shot of espresso and-

Okay. He might have a bit of a crush on Gwen.

Tony had taken on a much bigger role ever since he’d arrived - untethered and in desperate need of some direction - and he’d been Peter’s lifeline. The team were much more of a family, thanks to the lack of secrets and bonding over saving the universe, and he loved being at the Compound.

He still had nightmares, sometimes, and he still felt a deep ache whenever he thought of all he’d lost, but it would get better.

After all, they’d won.

One day at a time, he thought, whenever he needed the reminder, take it slow, and you’ll get there. Whatever it takes.