Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

April 2018

The thing about space is that there is a lot of it. The vastness of the universe doesn’t need any assistance in making a person feel small, but life’s cruel, cosmic irony never fails to step in when one forgets their own importance in the grand scheme of things. At one very significant moment in what was now one very significant place in the great infinity, Tony Stark had never felt smaller.

A staggering distance from the green little rock he had called home for decades, Tony lay defeated amongst mountains of smoking rubble, motionless save for the involuntary shudders in his side where blood trickled freely.

Just three minutes ago, he had been upright, standing in silence and muzzled by the kind of heavy pain that can only come from something as awful as letting down the entire universe.

Just three seconds ago, he had watched in terror as the enigmatic sorcerer with whom he had shared his ill-fated venture into the cosmos became dust in the wind, leaving behind only the echo of what Tony realized were the man’s final words, uttered softly, wise eyes brimming with sincerity.

“You’ll find it out there, eventually,” Strange had exhaled before melting away, becoming nothing but particles in the thin air of the wretched planet.

Tony clenched his fist, fighting the back the rising tide of horror. He didn’t want to waste his final moments thinking about whatever it was that he would never find. He didn’t even want to open his eyes for fear that he would have to see someone else fade away. They had lost. It was over. Why hadn’t he dissolved yet?

“Mister Stark?”

The kid.

Tony shot into a seated position, adrenaline enough of an anesthetic that he barely felt the pull of the leaking hole in his side or the scraping of alien rock against hand as he scrambled in the direction of the soft voice.

“Spider-Man?” he forced out, lungs struggling to take in enough air to propel him forward, let alone shout. "Kid? Peter?"

He didn't have to search for long. Peter Parker was propped against a smoldering hunk of rock, craning his neck every which way like a lost child in a grocery store. His suit was torn beyond repair, the nanites Tony had painstakingly engineered to adhere to the kid's form peeling off in multiple spots. When Peter finally caught sight of Tony, a small cry of relief escaped his swollen lips.

“Sir,” Peter rasped, pushing himself into an upright position. “You're alive. What–what’s happening?”

Tony could only stare at the small figure in front of him, his already strained breath caught in his throat as he searched for any sign that the kid—the child—would crumble and leave him completely alone in the rubble. His young eyes were the size of giant moons—a unit of measurement Tony was now sorrowfully confident using—his silly teenage curls were plastered across his forehead by a mixture of blood and sweat, and the beginnings of a nasty bruise spread across his cheekbone.

On auto-pilot, he dropped down at Peter's side and forced himself to meet his saucer sized stare. He was appalled to find that the kid's eyes were starting to grow misty and his lower lip trembled. They'd fought in battles before, but Peter had never looked so young, so innocent, so out of place amongst all of this death.

“You okay?” Peter asked, sounding just as disoriented as Tony felt. 

Tony’s gaze darted down to the growing rust-colored stains on his own legs, legs that were due to buckle any second. How could he possibly be okay? How could anything possibly be okay?

“Hey, shhh,” he wheezed back, painfully aware that his tone was strained at best, alarming at worst. “Don’t worry about me. Are you okay?”

He started to extend a shaky hand to wipe a smudge off of the boy’s face, but let it fall to his side at the last second. Instead, he stared at the mark fixedly, trying to forget that the dirt could be someone’s ashes...unless the ashes of the vanished bodies disappeared into nothingness too. 

Why hadn’t either of them disappeared into nothingness too?

“I’m fine,” Peter rasped, coughing weakly before adding, "I think.”

"Good," he muttered, mostly to feel his lips form the words, to make sure they hadn't begun to peel away from his face. "That's good."

Tony watched, still rooted in the dirt, as Peter used the rock as leverage to hoist himself to his feet and took a few steps away. A better mentor would've helped the kid up. A better mentor wouldn't have gotten them stuck here in the first place.

Peter shielded his eyes with the back of his hand and scanning the surrounding destruction. "Are they…dead?"

“I don’t know. Probably"

The question still pounded through his mind: Why hadn't they dissolved yet? It had been minutes since the others had fallen and, for the first time, another equally frightening possibility scratched at the back of his thoughts: What if they weren’t going to? With every rise and fall of Peter’s shoulders, the hopeful song in Tony’s heart sang louder—though if played aloud, the metaphorical tune would likely be more reminiscent of a funeral dirge. Maybe, just maybe, they had survived whatever it was that had happened after all.

Space rock crunched under Peter’s armor-clad feet and he dropped his hand from his eyes, turning to Tony.

"Mister Stark," he said softly. "What do we do now?”

The question was entirely reasonable, but being the one expected to answer it was like an infinity gauntlet punch to the gut. (Now that was a unit of measurement he could submit to the CGPM.)

“I-“

The enormity of the situation gripped his heart with a cold strength and the adrenaline that had been keeping him upright bleed away in a single labored breath. A spasm seized his tired limbs and he bent over coughing, swaying from the loss of both the battle and half a pint of blood.

“I-I-” he forced out.

Peter didn’t wait for an answer, rushing to Tony’s side and carefully worming his way under his arm.

“Here,” he muttered, shouldering the weight of Tony’s bad side. “Let me. You’re hurt.”

“No,” Tony shook his head weakly, trying to shrug off the assistance. “You sh'ldn’t have t'-.”

“Stop. Let me help,” Peter insisted, taking on even more weight.

Tony mustered up a grumbled protest, but his resistance rapidly dissipated as it became much easier to take full breaths. Logically, he knew that Peter had once held up a jet bridge on his own and could manage an admittedly small man’s body weight without breaking a sweat, but it still felt wrong.

“Is...is there maybe somewhere we can go?" Peter asked, head swiveling around as much as he could without jostling his cargo. "Like a cave or a structure or something? Maybe somewhere away from all of this rubble.”

He’s a child. You’re the adult, his conscience chided, a refrain that hadn’t let up since discovering the stowaway. Figure something out. 

The increased oxygen from Peter's support had granted some clarity to his clouded brain and he desperately searched the heaps of rock and dirt of the planet’s surface, praying that something, anything, would appear to shelter them from the harsh orange sky of the broken planet.

Please.

Amidst the burnt hues, a glint of metal grabbed his attention, igniting a spark in his brain.

“The ship,” he wheezed so suddenly that Peter jumped. “That scary blue woman came on a ship, just over there.”

He pointed shakily in the direction of a pile of rocks the size of a super-yacht.

“Maybe... maybe we can get it back to earth,” he mumbled. “Back to…”

He trailed off, coughing again. A metallic tang spread across his tongue and a decade of getting tossed around made him fairly confident that, if he were to spit, the saliva would be stained red. Peter shifted even more weight onto his shoulder as he pivoted to face them towards the hill.

“Okay, yeah,” he felt the boy nod. “Sure. Let’s go get to the ship and go home, Mister Stark. C’mon, sir.”

Home. Tony had no idea what would be left of home. After witnessing the carnage left behind on a planet with less than ten people on it he wasn’t sure he wanted to. The thought of what had just happened on this planet happening on any other, let alone the one they called home, was both unfathomable and highly probable.

_____

Picking their way across the ruins of the alien landscape proved a difficult task, but several grueling minutes later, the pair found themselves standing at the opening of a sleek spacecraft, parked just far enough from the fight that it had remained in one piece.

“The ramp is still down,” Peter observed.

The blue woman who had arrived in it—did she ever mention having a name before she died?—must have rushed into the fight. The first bit of good luck they’d experienced since being spared by the dusting.

They limped aboard the ship, Tony still heavily supported by Peter’s grip, and stepped into an engineer's fantasy. The metal floors were glossy and made a satisfying clanging sound with every footfall, screens and buttons filled nearly every inch of the farthest wall, the scent of oil and something entirely alien hung heavy in the air. Tony didn’t have a single second to appreciate it.

Peter dumped him in a metallic chair that matched the floors, wasting no time kneeling down to inspect his mentor’s wounds. A poorly concealed nauseous grimace rested his young face beneath a steely resolve that Tony was too drained to feel guilty about, though he surely would agonize over it later.

With a surprisingly tender touch, Peter sprayed some of his web fluid over the gash, stopping the stream of blood that had been slowly soaking Tony’s shirt.

“It’s okay, sir. You’re gonna be fine. We just need to start the ship.”

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, adjusting to the new sensation of a bandaged wound. "Start it?"

"Just rest." A shaking breath. "I got this."

The sound of footsteps was followed by a nervous tapping, likely Peter's toes on the metal floor.

Tony forced his eyes back open. "Kid."

Peter was at the control panel, arms crossed and mouth twisted into a frown. "I said, I got this."

"The hell you do." Tony pulled himself onto his feet with a groan, taking a moment to let the searing in his side subside.

“Hey,” Peter called over from the control panel. “Don’t get up yet. Those webs aren’t actually medically tested.”

“Stop worrying about me, kid,” he grunted. “You stopped the bleeding. That’s more than enough.”

He shuffled over to an alcove where a small metal sink jutted out of the wall and cabinets hovered several feet above. The webbing seemed to hold up substantially well, keeping all of his organs inside of his body where they belonged.

There was no time to wait around for wounds to close when stuck on an alien planet with a teenage stowaway.

He wrenched opened the latch on the first cabinet and peered inside. It held a mess of wires so tangled, the two of them working together would need at least a day to get them undone. Basic machine etiquette, people. Come on.

In the next, he found an equally unorganized mess of assorted objects. Tubes printed with labels in languages that Google Translate probably hadn’t gotten around to adding rested on top of a pair of headphones that belonged in a 1980’s Walkman commercial.

Useless, Tony thought bitterly, swinging open the final cabinet with a wince as the movement sent another searing pang through his core. He took in a small pile of rations sitting sadly on the shelves. Black spots danced at the edge of his vision that had little to do with his pain. Whoever had stocked this hadn’t foreseen their predicament and filled the pantry in preparation.

“Shit.”

Pulling himself away from the meager stockpile, he steadied himself against a cold countertop as terrible visions of emaciated bodies floating through deep space pressed into the periphery of his thoughts. He couldn’t keep himself from glancing in Peter’s direction. The stupid, brave kid studied the hundreds of blinking lights of the control panel with a furrowed brow. 

The thought of the overeager vigilante looking any skinnier than he already did made his stomach churn. Had their miraculous survival only been a delay of the inevitable? Would it have been more kind to have gone the way of their fallen teammates, to dissipate into the air peacefully rather than sit around and wait for starvation to take them on?

“Hey,” Peter’s voice interrupted his wallowing. “Come look at this.”

Tony hobbled over to the boy’s side and braced himself against a chair as he leaned over the cockpit dashboard.

"What am I looking at?”

“I’ve never seen anything like this before-” Peter gestured wildly to the buttons and lights. “-but I’m sure if we can figure it out we can get back home. Like...at least seventy-five percent sure.”

“Is this..."

“I think it's sort of a Space GPS, and if I’m reading it correctly, it says we’re not too far from our planetary system.”

"How could you possibly know that?"

"I was kind of into space as a kid, forced my aunt and uncle to take me to the planetarium whenever they had free shows."

Tony held back a cringe he knew would only aggravate his side. “Fine. How far is not too far?”

Peter tapped one of the blinking screens. “I tried to look up Earth and one screen said it would be, like, a three-week trip.”

“Like a three-week trip or actually a three-week trip?”

Peter hesitated. “Actually?”

How idiots like the team of aliens they had just lost had been able to work all of this complex machinery was a mystery to Tony, but a quick investigation of the system led him to believe that the kid was right. Between the two of them, they probably could figure out the ship and manage to chart a course home in a few weeks, but did they have a few weeks? Even giving Peter the majority of the rations, there was a non-zero chance they both would starve before making it into the Solar System.

“Mister Stark," Peter prompted. "What do you think?”

He met Peter's searching gaze and found the full of the kind of trust only a truly good person can have, the kind of person who deserved to be anywhere but stranded with a barely-upright old man. The answer suddenly was the clearest thing in the world. Tony was injured, lost, and broken. He couldn’t save the universe, but he could save this one boy.

He let out a ragged, aching breath, leaning further onto the chair back. “First, we’re going to get some help. Then, we’re going to go home.”

_____

Explaining his half-baked plans to a lost, probably beyond traumatized teenager was easier than Tony thought it would be. At some point in the he'd dropped back into the pilot's chair with a grunt, a move that sent Peter scurrying to get more bandages from the medical kit, but for the most part, he talked and Peter listened.

When Tony finished his pitch, Peter only nodded once, his thin mouth twisted into an I’m-trying-to-play-this-cool frown as he ran a thumbnail along his bottom lip.

“You really think we can find an alien planet?”

“They seem to have done a pretty good job finding us this past decade-” Tony pressed more wound dressing into his side, wincing. “-and if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, right?”

Peter stared at the ship’s control panel with an unreadable expression.

“Okay.”

"That's it? No other questions?"

"A few...alright maybe a few hundred, but I think you're probably right."

“We just need to look through that GPS thing you mentioned,” Tony said, ignoring the squeeze in his chest at the kid’s loyalty. “Maybe there’s a captain's log or something that can tell us where to stock up on fuel and supplies.”

“And then we pick a place and hope the locals don’t put their eggs in us?”

Oh kid.

“Exactly.” He nodded. “Our track record is pretty good on the implantation front so this should be a cake walk.”

Peter leaned back into his chair and let it spin as he let out a long breath. The orange glow from the front window of the ship cast long shadows on his face, exposing his exhaustion. For the fifth time in the past half hour, Tony resisted the urge to reach out and comfort him.

He’s here because of you. Anything happens, it’s on you.

“Real space exploration,” Peter whispered. “This is…officially insane.”

“Oh so it’s official now. That makes everything else that happened in the last twelve hours, what, a cheap knockoff?”

Every word he spoke heightened the searing in his side by the smallest amount, but the ghost of a smile on Peter’s face was worth it.

”Guess so.”

“Just…think of it as the long way home.”

“The scenic route?”

Tony snorted, “Sure, the scenic route.”

_____

In the end, it took just over twelve hours to get the ship operational and survey the nearby planets. Peter had been right in his initial assessment of the “Space GPS” (a scientifically inaccurate but colloquially sufficient name.) The direct trip to Earth would take just over three weeks which was more time than Tony was comfortable with risking.

They decided to aim for a small planet in the same system as Titan. It had a name neither of them even tried pronouncing and didn’t have a flashing “Do Not Enter” icon like several of the other’s on the GPS. The lack of additional information worried Tony, but watching Peter try to make his meager rations last through the night crushed any further chance of risking the trip to Earth.

An extra week of travel is worth it, he repeated, resting against the wall of the ship watching the boy’s chest rise and fall. For him.

The second Peter's chatter had ceased, Tony had plunged into the self doubt that had been barely kept at bay by the teen’s presence. Did he really understand how to set the course of the ship? Was the planet they had chosen actually habitable enough to find supplies? 

What if Peter got scared and needed Tony to comfort him? He had always felt an instinct to look out for the kid, but outside of the occasional check-in phone call or patch up, the truth was that Tony didn’t really know him all that well. He did know that Peter was only sixteen years old, that he’d just watched five people die in front of him, and that he was preparing to embark on a space mission with a middle-aged man who wasn’t exactly the poster child for put-togetherness. 

In the last twenty-four hours, Peter had been every bit the Avenger Tony had so reluctantly made him. They worked surprisingly well together when figuring out the ship. Though Tony had known the boy was a genius, he hadn’t realized that the kid could be so competent. It was becoming more and more apparent that the list of things Tony didn’t know about the superhero he had taken under his wing was longer than he’d thought.

The subject of Tony’s inner turmoil rolled over in his sleep and murmured something unintelligible and something warm stirred inside of him.

“Just taking the scenic route,” he whispered to no one at all.

Chapter Text

April 2018

“What should we call the ship?” 

Tony tore his eyes away from the hunk of space rock drifting past their window to see Peter sitting with his legs draped over the edge of the co-pilot's chair. He bit back the urge to tell his companion to put both feet safely back on the floor. He wasn’t the kid's dad.

“What?” he said instead.

Peter grinned like catching his attention was a prize medal even though his only competition was the endless void of space. “Every great space team has a name for their ship.” 

“We’re not a space team. Actually, I don’t even know what that is.”

“A space team is like…the group of people in the movies that fly around doing… space stuff.” Peter gestured vaguely. “Like Sandra Bullock and George Clooney in Gravity.”

“Never watched it.”

“It was pretty good. Lots of suspense, cool CGI.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Peter shrugged, as if to say 'suit yourself man.'

“So…what do we call the ship then?”

Tony turned back to the window.

_____

The auto-pilot feature they had found during their diagnostics allowed them to plug in the coordinates of the chosen planet and the take-off went better than either could have hoped. The pair watched in silence as the rust colored wasteland of Titan became a pinprick in the inky black sea of space. Neither were sorry to see the wretched place go, but neither had the bravery to voice how wrong it felt to leave the graveyard of those who had fought by their side. So it had been three days of hurtling through space towards their unknown destination and little had changed.

The hole in Tony’s side had healed remarkably despite the circumstances, but he still couldn’t take full breaths without tendrils of pain crawling from the top of his hip to the bottom of his shoulder blades. He spent most of his time leaning against countertops or slumped in chairs.

Peter put up a stellar performance at being fine, but Tony watched as he tossed and turned at night, knowing full well that the kid was in survival mode just as much as he was. 

“The Falcon?” Peter suggested hopefully after another stretch of silence.

“The Avengers already have a Falcon," Tony sighed, unsure why he was playing along, "and having a spaceship named after him would go to his head.” 

Peter was quiet for another minute, admiring an oddly shaped boulder floating past the window.

“Apollo 18.”

“No.”

“Stark-ship Enterprise.”

Tony suppressed a grin. Among the many things he was learning in the last several hours aboard the strange, creaky ship, he was starting to find that Peter Parker could be quite funny sometimes. Not that he would admit it aloud without extreme duress.

“We can’t name this ship, kid. It doesn’t technically belong to us. It probably already has a name… from the people who came here on it.”

"Oh...yeah."

Neither spoke after that, but long periods of silence weren’t uncommon aboard the ship with the unknown name. Despite knowing fairly little about the kid’s personality apart from his extracurricular vigilantism, Tony had known that Peter was a talkative kid since their very first meeting. So it had come of a bit of a shock that the teen had grown relatively quiet after the battle. Not that anyone could blame him. 

Peter always brushed away the tears when he thought Tony wasn’t looking, plastering a 100-watt smile over every thousand-yard stare, but the mask wasn’t foolproof. The boy's eyes glistened a little too brightly at the particularly dazzling sights. He sometimes trailed off mid-tangent, lost in his own thoughts. Once, when an iridescent nebula spread across their view, Tony swore he heard a small whimper from across the room. 

Tony was mostly grateful to avoid the responsibility of child therapist, but he couldn't deny that he sometimes wondered what was going on inside of Peter’s head. Maybe the boy was thinking about home, maybe he was wishing he had been stranded in deep space with anyone else. Tony was doing both.

He’d felt an instinctual sense of responsibility for the teenage superhero from the moment he’d watched the vigilante stop a bus with his bare hands wearing only red and blue pajamas. Being partially to blame for getting Peter stranded in space did nothing to lessen the intense guilt that filled him whenever Tony caught sight of curly hair and sad doe eyes sulking around the ship when he thought no one was looking.

____

The real first break in the artificial wall of positivity that was Peter Parker came a week into the journey.

Peter was staring into the reflection of a pale, glowing moon orbiting what appeared to be a massive lump of coal. His expression was unreadable. The pair had been quietly admiring the view, lost in their separate thoughts, for over an hour.

“I used to be obsessed with space,” Peter abruptly announced, not breaking eye contact with the moon’s reflection in the glass. 

Tony tilted his head, waiting for elaboration. The boy had been cycling between inane chatter and sullen silence for days and Tony had found it best to let him dictate the flow of conversation. 

“I begged my aunt and uncle to buy me a telescope for three birthdays until they finally got the money together.”

So we're talking then.

"Was this before or after begging for the planetarium trips?"

Peter's eyes widened and Tony opened his mouth to take the question back, but Peter quickly schooled his features, answering first, "After. The planetarium might've been what started the whole obsession. I don't really know though, it was a really long time ago."

“Recognize anything out here?”

Peter shook his head.

“You can’t see the stars that well from the city so I only got to really use it a few times. I’m pretty sure none of these would be visible from anywhere on Earth anyways.”

“I’m pretty sure none of these are visible from anywhere in our solar system.”

“Yeah.” Peter’s eyes flickered in Tony’s direction so quickly he almost missed it. “We’re really far from home.”

“Yeah, we are.”

Something—maybe the constant threat of death or the endless vacuum in front of them—pushed Tony to partake in the moment of vulnerability.

“Space has been my biggest fear for over a decade."

"Yeah?"

"Sometimes I can’t even look at the night sky without losing my breath.” 

The silence rested over them for a second, leaving Tony to question divulging something to this child that had taken over a year to share with his therapist.

“I’m sorry you’re having to do this,” said Peter simply.

Tony felt an unfamiliar rush of affection and the fear that threatened to choke him every waking moment of every day briefly receded. It had barely been a week and he was starting to realize that the teen’s superpowers extended past wall-climbing and bus-stopping. Peter Parker had an uncanny knack of making every other problem in the universe fade away. 

“Yeah, me too.”

Several seconds of silence passed before the blackness outside of the window sucked the warmth from the moment and the panic crept back in. 

Peter’s power was a double edged sword. Liking the kid too much was only going to make the inevitable outcome of getting him killed hurt even worse, and he already would never forgive himself if anything happened to the little hero on his watch.

_____

A small, powder blue shape loomed in the distance and the Space GPS flashed, dragging Tony and Peter out of another routine long bout of silence.

APPROACHING DESTINATION

“That’s the place, right Mister Stark?” Peter’s eyes were glued to the window where details of the planet were rapidly becoming easier to make out.

“Think so.”

“Does the auto-pilot cover landings?”

Fear coiled in his gut. “Hope so.”

He had realized early on into the journey that he had no idea where or how to land the vessel carrying them across the galaxy. It was just one of the many worries keeping him from sleeping. They had gotten off the ground through hefty measures of theoretical science and sheer luck, but there was no guarantee that either of those things would carry them safely to the ground. 

God, if he had diverted their course from slow deaths in empty space to bring them quick deaths on some alien planet he would spend whatever afterlife he ended up in torturing himself.

The GPS blinked again.

ETA: SIXTY SECONDS

“Kid,” he said urgently. “I don’t know exactly how this ship is going to land, but right now we need to strap in and prepare for anything, okay?”

Peter, with his superhuman reflexes and above-average intelligence, nodded and hurried to snap his harness into place. Tony hastily followed suit.

ETA: THIRTY SECONDS

The surface of the planet filled most of the cockpit window. If it weren’t for the strong potential of death on impact, Tony would’ve taken a moment to be in awe of the view. Dark splotches of green were visible now, showing the dips and curves in the planet’s surface. 

ETA: TWENTY SECONDS. 

Flashes of silver appeared in the blue. 

ETA: TEN SECONDS

It was difficult to tell if they were decelerating or not. Peter had shut his eyes and was gripping the harness with plaster-white knuckles. 

Please save him. Tony prayed.

He shut his eyes as well, bracing for impact. 

ETA: ONE SE-

BOOM. The world shook.

Silence.

_____

Tony became aware that he could still feel his heart pounding after the shockwaves from the crash subsided. 

He cracked a cautious eye open. Blue light filtered in through the windows which all seemed to be covered by an unknown powdery substance. The air had a strange tang, unlike anything he had smelled before.

“Peter?” he croaked, hands refusing to unclench from the armrests.

For several sickening seconds no response came and Tony felt his vision go black.

"Peter?!"

“Yeah?”

Relief flooded Tony’s chest. The faint call had come from his left. He turned and saw the boy peering back at him, shaken, but thankfully in one piece. 

“Thank God, kid. Next time at least gimme a moan, okay?”

“We didn’t die,” Peter breathed, voice filled with disbelief.

“We didn’t die.”

“We just landed a spaceship on an alien planet.”

“Crash-landed… but who needs qualifiers?”

Peter snorted, unstrapping himself from the chair and hauling up to his feet. “I can't believe that worked,” he said, wobbling a little as he tried to cross the floor towards the exit. “I was like ninety percent sure we were done for.”

Tony chose not to respond, getting up and making his way over to do a quick once over of the kid. 

"All of your limbs intact?" he demanded.

"I'm fine," Peter rolled his eyes, running his hands through his messier-than-usual curls. "Don't be a worry-wart. You really don't pull it off."

“Whatever. Ready to go out and see the universe?”

“Sure.” There was no hesitation in Peter's voice, but Tony could still feel apprehension in the stuffy cabin air.

“You sure you're sure? Want to take a minute?”

Peter frowned, already walking towards the control panel near the exit. “I said I was fine. No time like the present.”

Before Tony’s anxiety could stop him, Peter boldly stepped forward and slammed a bright red button.

A woosh filled the ship as the landing door creaked open and a stream of a powder-blue, sand-like substance flooded the craft along with bright natural light. Peter, who had been standing closer to the entrance, was knocked off of his feet, falling out of the opening with a soft oof .

“Kid!” Tony yelped, rushing forward.

The sand was just slightly heavier than the tan colored stuff they had on earth. One step in, one of the ridges caught on his shoe and he felt himself lose balance too, sending him sprawling into the open expanse of his second ever alien planet.

_____

It was hot, a dry heat that hovered just above the skin rather than weighing a person down. In fact, everything felt slightly lighter. The burden of gravity keeping them firmly on the surface was moderately weaker than the artificial pull they had become acclimated to on the ship.

“One large leap for mankind, huh?” Peter’s amused, muffled voice came from the side.

With an undignified grunt, Tony hauled himself into a seated position and saw the kid sprawled on his back, his hair and clothes covered in the strange sand, staring into the sky.

The scenery. The mystery planet—or at least the part where their ship had chosen to crash into—seemed to be some kind of desert. The sand they had flown into was piled in giant dunes of cobalt blue grains. The sky above was a pale pink and a single yellowing moon hung eerily close to the surface.

“You okay?” Tony called, concern edged into his voice.

“I was in geology class last week. Now I’m covered in space dirt.” 

The way he said it was more awe-struck than wistful, but Tony couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. You should still be there.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Or do you have a concussion? You have to say something if you have a concussion.”

“No concussion.” Peter grimaced, pulling himself onto his knees. “Just questioning everything I’ve ever done in my entire life. Hey, don’t you think this sand is weirdly heavy?”

“Sure, maybe they’ll let you do a report on it for your science fair.”

“I know you’re joking, but the scientific implications of this are… wow...” Peter scrambled to stand. “I think the gravity fields are a little less too.” 

As if to prove his hypothesis, he leapt into the air and did a front flip that, enhanced abilities accounted for, shouldn't have been possible. 

“See?”

Tony stood unsteadily, dusting the sand off of his clothes. “Very impressive spider-monkey, but we need to keep moving. One foot on the ground at all times.”

The curious warmth was back in his gut, but he chalked it up to the balmy climate.

_____

It was all absolutely stunning—the kind of thing generations of humans looked at the night sky and dreamed of finding—and they couldn’t appreciate it, even a little.

Peter had mentioned seeing something that looked like buildings just before their crash. The glints of silver Tony had spotted. 

“That way.” He pointed. “Or maybe it was that way…”

So they began trekking toward the largest dune hoping that, regardless of the location of the mysterious buildings, they would have a better lay of the land from a higher elevation.

Great job, Tony, he disparaged, standing at the bottom of the looming hill. Take the kid to an alien planet for supplies without knowing where the damn supplies are.

The lower gravitational pull combined with the higher weight of the sand made for an interesting climbing experience. It was easier to gain a foothold in the alien dune, but also easier to misjudge the amount of force of each step. A miscalculation meant shooting up the hill, losing balance, and falling back to the bottom.

They fell into an easy pattern. Peter rambled nervously, Tony tried not to topple over in panic thinking about how Peter’s very short life was in his hands, and both pretended that they weren’t clutching onto sanity by a thread.

Eventually, they reached the peak.

“Holy shit,” Peter whispered, shading his eyes to soak in the view.

Tony couldn’t respond. The kid had taken the words from his mouth. From the new vantage point, they were able to see a cluster of non-organic structures nestled in the dunes a few football fields away. They appeared to be made entirely of silver.

Is it uninhabited? Is that a good thing or a very bad thing?

“Looks like you were right,” Tony observed. “Good job, Spider-Man.”

“Thanks.” Peter’s shoulders squared with pride despite the waver in his voice.

“So what do you think, kid? Safe to explore?”

Peter squinted into the horizon. “I don’t see any signs of life.”

“You don’t think a literal silver city counts as signs of life?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I meant like people.”

“Who knows what the people here look like.”

A soft cascade of sand tumbled down the dune as Peter shifted warily.

“We should go in, right?”

“I think that we have to,” Tony admitted, not taking his eyes away from the city. “Well, maybe not we.. .”

“Excuse me?” Peter said with heavy suspicion.

“You should probably go back to the ship and hold down the fort. I’ll see what’s up with Mos Eisley over there and hopefully come back with some supplies in a little while.”

"You're joking."

"It's called delegating actually."

“Nice try,” Peter said, clearly affronted. “I appreciate the excellent Star Wars reference, but no way.”

“I'll be fine. You don't have to-”

Peter scoffed, “I’m not leaving you to walk into some creepy alien city alone, Mister Stark. Remember the chest eggs?”

“What if I need you guarding the ship?”

“Do you really want me to be alone right now either?”

Peter’s eyebrows were quirked in a smug way that filled Tony with as much amusement as frustration. He’s got me there. Sometimes he forgot that the reason he knew the kid in the first place was that he’d been skipping band practice to fight crime in the streets. Peter was unshakeable when it came to protecting others.

“Fine,” he huffed, bracing himself in the loose sand, “but stay behind me.”

_____

Peter must have been intimidated enough by the strange planet that he listened to the instructions, trailing behind Tony as they carefully picked their way across the smaller sloping dunes towards the shimmering outline of buildings which grew larger and larger with each nervous step. Several thousand steps later, Tony held out an arm, sending Peter into a skidding halt.

Finally, they stood at the edge of a cluster of solid structures, staring up at metallic walls that brilliantly reflected the blues and blush of the sand and sky back onto the desert. The entire town was completely still and silent, not even a wisp of wind rushed past the argent-colored buildings.

“Last chance to head back to the ship,” Tony warned. “I may not be able to protect you from whatever is in there.”

His words hadn’t been uttered any louder than a whisper, but they might as well have been shouted through a megaphone. The suggestion rang through the clearing ahead, surely alerting any potential hidden life of their presence.

Peter’s jaw was set in a hard line, offended at the mere suggestion of turning back. "I don't need you to protect me."

"I didn't mean-"

Peter shook his head once.

“Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me, kid,” Tony sighed.

_____

The interior courtyard of the collection of buildings was the same shimmering silver as the outside. Signs hung in doorways in an alphabet Tony couldn’t even begin to decipher and what seemed to be a plaza paved with iridescent stone sat at the center. Despite looking more like an intricate piece of art, the space had the desolate air of a ghost town.

“Mister Stark,” Peter’s soft voice called from behind. “Look.”

Tony spun in his direction. At first, he figured that Peter had been talking about the open door of one of the buildings—an eerie but astute observation on its own—but after taking a closer look, he realized that the kid’s eagle eyes had spotted the sign that hung above the frame. 

It had the same foreign scrawl as the other signs, but was also covered in additional symbols that bent and twisted in completely different ways as if they belonged to other scripts, including five letters of an alphabet he would recognize anywhere: 

S T O R E

“Kid,” Tony inhaled sharply.

"What the hell does this mean?"

“I don't know, but if we’re going inside this place you need to stay right by my side.”

“Okay.”

“Pretend I have you on a leash. You’re a toddler at Disney.”

Peter nodded dutifully and Tony prayed he was making the right choice in not tacking on a threat or two. 

They entered the shop quietly, shoulder to shoulder as instructed. Shelves laden with bags and bottles filled out the center, posters advertising various incomprehensible products hung on the walls, and an oddly mundane check-out counter with a rack of postcards sat at the far side of the room. Tony was surprised to see how normal it all looked. 

What was most decidedly not normal was the depressed-looking, blood-red alien sitting behind the counter looking directly at them with all three of its eyes.

Tony stepped forward, making sure Peter was situated directly behind him.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” the alien said back.

Tony recoiled.

“You speak English?” Peter piped in, immediately going sheepish after an acidic, shut-up-and-let-me-talk-you-idiot glare from Tony.

“I have a universal translator,” the alien answered, sounding concerned for Peter’s cognitive functioning.

“Oh...yeah, of course,” Tony said, mustering all the confidence he had ever gained strutting into board meetings completely unprepared. “We just wanted to buy some… supplies.”

“Are you tourists?”

Tony paused. “Yes.”

The alien took in their state of disarray with heavy skepticism. They must have looked very much like they had just lost a fight against a vengeful, purple god.

“This is a very strange time for a vacation.”

Tony shrugged and the alien’s mouth twisted into what may have been a frown. It was hard to tell with the tentacles.

“How long have you and your son been traveling?”

“Only a week. My… son and I wanted to take a break from our planet for a while.” Tony refused to look at Peter’s face. He wasn’t sure why he’d went along with the lie. It just felt necessary.

“I am sorry to be the one to tell you of this,” the shopkeeper said, ”but the galaxy has just experienced a great tragedy.”

The pit in his stomach that hadn’t quite gone away since Titan morphed into a heavy boulder.

“A tragedy?” he repeated.

“Across all worlds, reports are being given of great percentages perishing. In this very town, our small population has been reduced to almost nothing. Only myself and a few others remain.”

“Did they all...turn to dust?” he asked, though he was certain he already knew the answer.

The alien nodded gravely, its second and third eye misty.

“We are an outpost, mostly for tourists who come to admire our dunes, but I fear you will likely be the last traveler here for some time.”

“Oh. I’m...sorry.”

“It is okay. Please shop at your own leisure.”

Tony hummed in agreement, glancing to the shelves at his side. A bag of some sort of orange chip was being advertised in bold colors. It felt like a mockery of the solemn moment.

“You said this was a tourist spot, right?”

The alien dipped its head in affirmation, clearly electing to not mention that Tony had declared himself and his “son” tourists seconds before.

“Can you handle monetary exchange?” Tony pressed. “From different planets?”

“We can.”

The tension in his shoulders briefly eased and his hand shot into the pocket of his pants, procuring the leather wallet which had somehow survived the journey. He flipped it open, relieved to find it stuffed with bills.

“Perfect.” He fumbled through the bundles of cash and cards. “I’ve got…five hundred earth dollars plus as much credit as you want. That worth anything?”

Alien currency exchange, put that on the list of things he hadn’t planned on doing today.

“If you have credit, why are you in need of an exchange?”

“You take credit here?” 

He held up his black card, not daring to hope their luck was that good, a wise decision after the alien’s face contorted in confusion.

“I am unsure about this...square credit,” the shopkeeper said. “However, I believe the current exchange rate for your dollars allows me to offer one hundred thirty-five universal intergalactic credits in exchange.”

“Is that a lot?” Peter whispered from his side.

“Hush.” He turned back to the shopkeeper. “How much is a fuel tank and a month of supplies?”

All three of the alien’s eyes regarded them with immense pity. Tony’s heart sank.

“A tank of fuel for the general traveler's ship will cost roughly one hundred credits. A month of sustenance would be about the same.”

Shit.

The heat of the desert crawled from outside the door onto Tony’s skin and for the first time, he found the alien atmosphere difficult to breathe.

“But…. but I need both to get home. We have to get home.“

“I am sorry.” The shopkeeper dipped its head. “Unfortunately, the exchange for Terran currency has always been low. It is not a planet which typically has or hosts interplanetary travelers.”

“We have to get home,” Tony repeated, hearing the pitch of his voice jump an octave. 

He was excruciatingly aware of Peter’s presence at his side, observing the great Tony Stark's first time not having enough money to buy a solution to his problems since being trapped in a dusty cave in Afghanistan. Or, he supposed, since last week. If Peter had ever held him in any sort of esteem, that was surely gone now. He’d been trapped in the desert before, blown halfway across the country in the dead of winter, this wasn’t even technically his first time in space. Why was it now that he couldn’t talk to a cashier without stammering?

You were alone those times. That's how you work best, how you belong.

“Will one full fuel tank even get us back to Earth?” he asked.

The alien stroked his red cheek thoughtfully. “I am familiar with all of the nearest planetary systems and Earth is not one of the,. I believe that one tank is not sufficient to reach your home planet.”

Were the walls closing in on them or had the roof torn off, leaving them exposed to all of the harsh realities of the greater galaxy? Tony couldn’t tell, torn between the claustrophobia of being stranded and blinding panic at the immensity of the distance between these pastel dunes and a home that may or may not be waiting for them.

Food or home? his brain whispered. Food or home?

He stood completely still, unable to respond as if he was auditioning to become one of the mannequins displaying the shop souvenirs. This was it. This was the challenge he couldn't build, brainstorm or buy his way out of. Pepper would be so smug. She'd always said it would happen one day. God, he wished she were here. Or maybe not. Maybe-

“Can...we have a minute, sir?” Peter's voice broke through the noise.

The shopkeeper bowed its head respectfully.

“Come on, Mister Stark,” Peter put a gentle hand on Tony’s arm and guided him over to a box-laden shelf by the door. 

Once they were a distance from the counter, he pulled Tony around to face him, mouth pressed into a thin line and his brown eyes deadly serious.

“We’re going to get home.” 

“Kid,” Tony’s voice was thick and he hated himself for sounding so weak. “I don’t want to promise you something that I can’t deliver.”

Peter held up a hand. “This isn’t you promising anything."

"But-"

"Maybe we won’t be home by the end of the week. Maybe we won’t be home by the end of the month. But we’re going home, Sir.”

“This isn’t earth,” Tony insisted. “We’re not Iron Man and Spider-Man here. Hell, I’m barely even Tony Stark. We can’t just get to an ATM and withdraw enough cash for a trip home.”

“Bullshit.” 

“What?” Tony breathed, unsure if he had heard the normally mild mannered boy correctly.

“Bullshit,” Peter repeated, eyes blazing. “You’re still Tony Stark.”

“I was speaking metaphorically just then. I do still know who I am, kid.”

“No,” Peter insisted. “You’re Tony Stark. The guy who flew a nuke into space and created a sustainable power source in a cave.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. This wasn’t the time for hero-worship.

“Neither of those are going to matter if we can’t even afford a tank of fuel.”

Peter crossed him arms. “Not all of us have a billion dollars in the bank, Mister Stark, and we get by just fine.” 

“This is an entirely different ball game, no, this is an entirely goddamn new sport. We need money. Maybe not billions, but more than we have.”

“So we get more money! You’re good at that, right?”

“On Earth maybe… but…”

“Forget Earth," Peter cut in. "We’re stuck on an alien planet, the universe as we know it might be gone, and we have a hundred and thirty-five space dollars. What are we going to do?”

“I’m…”

“Come on Mister Stark," Peter urged. "What are you going to do?”

At that moment, Tony saw why people called the kid the Amazing Spider-Man. Fear was written clearly on his young face, but the strength he exhibited went past the physical. In that moment he knew, to deny Earth this hero would be the worst thing Tony ever did. And he’d done a lot of terrible things.

“I’m going to get us home,” he heard himself say.

Peter beamed, and all of a sudden he was the teenager who sometimes came by his lab to get chemicals for web fluid again. 

“Great. Let’s go then.”

Something ignited inside of him, Peter’s pep talk a pair of jumper cables and his brain the dead engine. His eyes locked onto a shelf with pictures of an alien that resembled the blue woman from Titan putting something that resembled food into her mouth. 

“Food first,” he said. “Then we’ll figure out fuel. I think it's time we test out this space team thing you were talking about.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But I’m George Clooney.”

“He dies like halfway through the movie.”

“I’ll learn from his mistakes.”

_____

“Mister Stark, look.”

Tony glanced up from the row of canisters that the shopkeeper had told him could substitute for water. Peter was several feet away, standing in front of a rack of books, holding a thick tome with black binding.

“I’m not sure we have enough space money for entertainment right now, kid.”

“No, look.”

Tony put back the not-water with a sigh and headed to the kids side. Peter held up the book and Tony could read the title, it was surprisingly printed in bold English letters.

“Survivor’s Guide to the Galaxy,” he read aloud. “Huh, that’s... eerily appropriate.”

“Right?” Peter was practically vibrating. “I skimmed it and it’s all in English! The appendix said it was translated a few years back. Apparently we’re not the only space travelers from Earth.”

Not enough of us that they take Amex.

“How much?” Tony asked, the foreign words sitting heavy and strange on his tongue.

“Fifteen credits-” Peter answered hesitantly, “-which I know is a lot but I think we could really use it. Maybe it can help us find out how to get more money.”

He took the book from the teenager’s hand and flipped it open. Sure enough, the text was English. Most of the page he had opened to was covered in words, with a few diagrams scattered across the paragraphs. This particular page was discussing edible plants.

“I think you might be right. Put it in the cart.”

_____

“That will be one hundred and thirty three credits.” The somber voice of the shopkeeper rang out.

Tony held up the metal bar that he had been given in exchange for his bills and watched breathlessly as the alien waved it above a machine, draining almost all of their recently acquired funds in a single swipe.

He pocketed the transfer device containing all two of their remaining credits and tried to force a smile. 

“Thanks for the crash course on economics,” he said, “and good luck with your store. I'm pretty sure times are about to be tough.” And it’s kind of my fault.

The alien eyes bored into them unblinkingly and, for a moment, Tony worried it had mind reading capabilities and was about to launch an attack. He shifted towards Peter, prepared to drag the kid away from a fight. 

When the alien spoke, its voice was even and soft.

“I don’t commonly extend this offer,” it began slowly, “but with the circumstances taken into consideration, I would like to invite you and your son to share a meal with the village tonight.”

“We couldn’t possibly…”

“You have clearly been through an ordeal. I would consider it a privilege to bring good will into this torn world.”

Tony turned to Peter, “Kid?”

Peter’s eyes were wide and, even worlds away from home, Tony saw the ghost of the boy who had once told him he’d never been on a plane before.

“I love meals.”

For the thousandth time since landing on Titan, Tony marveled at the sci-fi circus that his life had become. Invitations to an alien dinner party? Sure.

“Then… okay.”

_____

Dinner with the alien, who they learned was named Erb, was surreal. The entire population of the town had been reduced to just four lonely inhabitants after the dusting and all of them gathered in the square to share a simple meal of salty bread and a meat dish that reminded Tony of seafood.

Erb was the only member of the gathering with a translation device, so all discussion was filtered through him, though no one was particularly talkative and most of the conversation remained surface level.

“Do you have anything like this on your planet?”

“Not really.”

Tony couldn’t tell whether the inhabitants of the silver city were just quiet people or if the loss that weighed down on them all kept the discussion to a minimum. It was impossible to not see the hole left by the missing community members and strange how so many things he had previously associated with “humanity” were present in such an in-human environment. 

“Axm used to enjoy Earth artifacts very much.”

“Who?”

“One of the lost of my kind. We had a child together. Also lost.”

“I’m sorry.”

At the end of the dinner, their new acquaintances insisted they stay in one of the vacant apartments instead of trekking over the dunes in the dark. A young villager with a lengthy name informed them that the pink sky they had landed under had been the final stage of a 48 hour sunset and conditions wouldn’t be safe to depart for another several days.

“Once, a child wandered into the dunes during the dark and never returned.”

Tony unconsciously shifted towards Peter.

After everyone slunk back into the buildings, the two Earthlings settled on a pair of mats on the floor of the abandoned home of some unfortunate, deceased inhabitant of the town. Peter bent over a broken camera that the young villager had pressed into his hands at the end of the dinner, whispering that the dusted alien Axm had tried to fix it for years. Peter had seemed overwhelmed by the kindness and hadn’t let the gift leave his fingers since.

Tony sat with the Survivor’s Guide on his lap, trying to make sense of the letters swimming around on the page. It was his brain demanding that he sleep after being fully fed for the first time in over a week, but the thought of leaving Peter alone in the strange apartment for something as ridiculous as a nap was out of the question.

Rubbing his eyes, he flipped to the next page of the book and read the bold title above the text.

THERE’S ALWAYS MONEY IN CONTRAXIA

“Kid, I might have found something.”

Chapter Text

May 2018

Knowing a brutal crash was imminent was only marginally less terrifying after having already survived the ordeal once before. The next time the ship with the unknown name touched ground—three weeks after the first landing—Tony and Peter just held tight and braced for the moment of impact. 

It came. They held on. It went.

“You good?” Tony shouted over the subsiding residual tremors.

“Yeah,” Peter called back, voice muffled by the arms he still had wrapped protectively around his face.

Dim, grey light filled the cabin and a moderate chill was already emanating through the space, sending shudders through Tony’s exposed arms as he unclipped from the pilot’s seat.

“Ready to go out?”

Peter hesitated, fingers flexing against his metal armrest. “Not really.”

“Want to stay on the ship?” he offered hopefully.

“Not really.”

Tony studied his expression, searching for a tremble in his lips or a crease in his forehead—anything to hint that Peter was lying—but found nothing.

“I’m going to get the jackets from the bunks. Hang tight for a second, okay?”

Peter nodded, his gaze fixed on the white landscape visible through the window. He had been on a quiet streak since leaving the planet of the blue dunes, spending much of the two-week journey to Contraxia hunched over his new camera or searching the ship for miscellaneous screwdrivers and loose scraps of metal.

The uncommon silence worried Tony, and that worry was taking a very ill-timed physical toll. The gash in his side had almost fully sealed into an angry pink scar, but his head ached perpetually and any time he managed to exhaust himself to the point of sleep, he always awoke in a cold sweat, dreading another day where he and the kid were still stranded amongst the stars. 

Over a month had passed since Titan and each new day was another where he failed Peter.

Tony hurried to grab the pearl-colored parkas they had unearthed during the journey, ignoring his stomach’s protest at the sudden spike of activity. Skipping meals to bolster their dwindling ration supplies wasn’t doing his still-healing body any more favors than stressing about his tagalong. He returned to see that the kid had set down his camera and was waiting by the exit, foot tapping rhythmically as he swayed from side to side.

“This one's for you.” He handed over the smaller of the coats. “Want to go over the plan again?”

“Get in, get money, get out,” Peter recited dutifully, shrugging the hefty garment over his shoulders.

Whoever had left the jacket behind must have been several inches taller and several sizes larger than Peter. It hung awkwardly off of the teen’s thin frame, giving him the air of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man after a good poke from a sharp needle. 

Tony stifled a laugh. He probably didn’t look any more badass in his own borrowed winter gear.

“And what did the Guide say about Contraxia?” 

Peter let out a long suffering sigh, but answered. “It’s known for harsh winters and high stakes gambling, making it popular with a group of outlaws called Ravagers.”

“And what will you be doing while we’re there?”

Peter gave an award-worthy teenage eye roll. “I’ll be behind you, staying away from anyone else, and keeping track of the money.”

“Of which we need how much?” he pressed, quirking an eyebrow.

“Five hundred credits for fuel, two-fifty for food.”

 Tony clapped his hands together, a move he regretted when his side wound protested painfully.

“Good kid!” he managed to hiss out.

Peter frowned, too perceptive for his own good. “Have you eaten yet?” he asked, fiddling with the zipper on his coat. “I didn’t see you take any of the rations this morning.”

“Of course I did,” he answered a bit too forcefully. “Not all of us sleep all day, lazy-bones.”

Peter had saved him too many times already. One of them had to be strong and if he made the kid be that person again, Tony wouldn't be able to live with himself. It was easier said than done, though, when the boy’s hero complex was bigger than half the Avengers put together. 

Any fears that Peter would pick up on his lie or hear his stomach growl and push were thankfully dashed when the teen threw his head back and laughed. It was a surprisingly carefree sound, and one that he hadn’t heard from the kid in over a week.

Peter leaned over the ship doors and pressed his fist into the exit button, sending the noise of screeching metal through the room as the ramp inched to the ground. Tony’s skin burned as the frigid Contraxian air snuck in from the gap. The Guide had said to expect cold, but this was damn near arctic. 

Peter sucked in a sharp breath, wrapping his puffy-coated arms around his torso as he observed the white expanse ahead.

“Still cold?” Tony asked, trying to keep the concern from his voice.

“N-no.” Peter shuddered. “J-Just need t-to acclimate.”

Tony wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave the boy in the ship where he could stay warm and dry, but the Survivor’s Guide had given him the distinct impression that this planet wouldn’t be as hospitable and peace-loving as the blue planet. He couldn’t afford to let Peter out of his sight. He stared at the small, shivering body in front of him for a second longer.

“Ah, what the hell.”

In one fluid motion, he threw an arm over Peter’s shoulder and pressed the boy into his side, effectively wrapping him in a warm cocoon of his own body heat.

“Gotta do what we can, right?”

Peter nodded underneath his shoulder and the increasingly familiar, warm sensation that had been coming and going the past month spread through Tony's chest.

It’s probably just the kid’s body heat, he reasoned.

_____

The icy chill slicing through the air was just the backdrop to a wholly unpleasant space. If the mass murder of half the universe had made the inhabitants of the blue planet kind and welcoming, it had done the opposite in this unforgiving tundra. The Guide had made Contraxia seem like a Space Vegas, advertising high-risk, high-reward competition and untold riches to those daring and clever enough to earn it, but marching into the center of the city, Tony was beginning to seriously question the integrity of the book’s reporting.

Beings of all shapes, colors, and sizes sneered from seedy huddles scattered across the snowy square. Yellow robotic-looking women in various states of undress posed in doorways, leering at each passerby as their faces glowed in the neon lights of the lurid advertisements littering the buildings. He couldn’t speak for the pre-dusting population of the planet, but there seemed to be plenty of travelers milling about the snowy streets. It was with growing horror that he came to realize he had willingly brought a sixteen year old directly into a red-light district.

It was this or starvation, he reminded himself.

He squeezed Peter even closer to his side, whether to shield the boy from seeing or being seen he couldn’t quite say.

“This is…new,” Peter whispered, his teeth still gently chattering as his gaze lingered on and trio of seedy, hooded beings exchanging something that looked a bit like the sort of stuff people had snorted in basement parties at MIT.

“Don’t look,” Tony instructed, forcing lightness into his tone. “Your young eyes don’t need to be scarred like this.”

“I’m sixteen, Mister Stark, not six.”

“I’m forty-something and I wish I could–oh goodness! ”

One of the yellow robotic women in a nearby window had made a gesture so obscene, Tony had to physically restrain himself from covering Peter’s eyes.

Peter only rumbled with amusement. “Oh goodness?" he taunted. "You really are forty-something.”

“Enough from you, anklebiter.”

“Was golly-gee too indecent for you?”

“Let’s just find the damn place,” Tony snapped, though he couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from creeping upwards.

Peter clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Such language.”

“Shut up. You have the name, right?”

Peter wormed out from Tony’s arm to fish a crumpled paper out of his pocket.

“Here.” He held up a crude drawing of an alien script and turned about slowly, comparing the word on the paper with the glowing writing on the signs. “If we can just match it to–”

Tony pointed directly ahead. “There.”

The building he had spotted stood out from its neighbors with its lack of lights and racy grandeur. The structure was a black box with only a single lit sign. The symbol above the door was a perfect match for the establishment advertised in the Survivor’s Guide where it had been listed with only a short description: Casino for skill.

“Nice.” Peter grinned. “Let’s go get us some credits.”

"Eh eh." Tony wagged a finger in the freezing air. “There’s no us, Parker, only me. Toddler on a leash at Disney, remember?”

Peter's shoulders sagged and he glared around the edge of his coat. “How could I forget when you remind me every five seconds?”

The crowds and snow heaps continued as they trudged to the front of the black building, finally shouldering past the severe, female-looking alien guarding the door to step inside the obsidian walls.

The out-of-place duo was greeted by a jarring contrast to the neon lights and harsh white snow on the streets. The interior of the club seemed to come with its own set of shadows, looming against the backdrop of iniquity like somber drapes.

“Come on, kid. Toddler, leash, Disney.”

To Peter's credit, he heeded the warnings, hovering silently to the side as they ventured deeper into the dusky casino.

“We’re just going to watch for now,” Tony directed under his breath.

Peter acknowledged with a slight tip of his head, his gaze flickering to a roguish alien covered in scales sulking in a booth against the wall. 

The entire city had been full of shady characters, but the patrons lurking about this place all had an extra glint in their eyes, carrying themselves with a particular brand of underhanded cunning Tony recognized from years spent in business dealings with less than respectable clientele.

He kept moving through the rows of machines—all advertising their unparalleled odds and impossible winnings—courage bolstered by the absolute necessity of the mission. For a while, they simply observed, taking careful note of each of countless games filling the establishment.

“You’ve got to find one that takes even the tiniest bit of skill,” he had informed Peter earlier on the ship while preparing to disembark. “That way you're not left to the tempestuous whims of Lady Luck.”

Peter had laughed and asked if Tony was encouraging him to start gambling.

“No,” he had snapped, “and if you tell your aunt I said any of this I’m selling your suit for scraps the second we make it back.”

They passed a simple machine in the back corner with a display of numbers where the objective seemed to involve predicting numerical outcomes on a board. Tony quickly dismissed it as a straightforward game of luck, but a small feature tickled his brain and he paused to take a closer look.

The screen had a grid where, after money was inserted, numbers appeared in seemingly random order at various locations. The blood-orange patron who had been attempting the game had lost her final credit and stormed off, hissing curses and leaving the machine wide open.

“Kid,” he whispered, drawing Peter’s attention away from a treacherous-looking slot machine. “I think I might have something here.”

He guided Peter over to the corner and pointed at the grid where a simulation of the game kept rolling. “Do these look familiar to you?”

Peter squinted. “I don’t think so…”

“Here.” He jammed a finger into the grid at a point where a square was darkened, dragged it across the screen to another. “It’s about predictions, right? It looks like there might be some kind of pattern in the machine.”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Because there’s no such thing as true randomness in machinery.”

“Exactly. So if I can see the pattern–”

“Then you can predict the outcome.”

“Part algebra. Part combinatorics.” Tony beamed. “The Guide did say this casino was known for having games of skill.”

Peter’s mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown as his eyes raked up and down the machine again. “Do you really think the casino owners just give out their money to anyone who took Discrete Math?”

“Maybe they don’t teach it in this galaxy.”

“Math is still math on Mars.” Peter shrugged. “Combinations, permutations, they’re all universal constants, right?”

“Could be, but do these lot really seem like the statistical probability type?”

“Point taken," Peter conceded. "What do you think it is then?”

“I think...maybe the darkened spots make planar graphs.”

“Graph theory?" Peter was in full nerd-mode, hungrily scanning the screen with a palpable eagerness. "That...actually sounds feasible.” 

Tony let himself envision, for just a second, inviting the young genius over to his labs if things were ever normal again. If their brief stint as deep-space-explorers had taught him anything so far, it was that he and Peter Parker worked uncommonly well together under less than desirable conditions. What problems could they solve when not under threat of starvation on an alien planet?

He stepped back, arms crossed as he carefully observed the game. “What do the vertices look like to you?”

Peter leaned forward, a completely different person from the cheerful-but-quiet kid he’d met on occasion and traveled with over the past month. This was the same Peter who had given him a come-to-Jesus pep talk in the blue planet’s tourist shop, the Peter who had practically carried him to the ship on Titan—this was Peter Parker in his element.

“All odd numbers,” Peter reported. “So that means–”

“We have an equation. Awesome job, kid.”

Peter rocked from his heels to toes. “Awesome.” 

“Let’s withhold judgement until we see results,” Tony cautioned.

"Still awesome."

With shaky hands, Tony held the credit bar up to the scanner and forced himself to watch as their funds slipped away. The fat “zero funds” taunted him, jeering that he had placed the survival of himself and a child on the assumption that he was smarter than a glorified slot machine. He stared into the glow of the screen that would either be their salvation or ruin.

“If this doesn’t work, kid-"

"It's going to work."

"If this doesn't work, I need you to take the ship-"

"What?!"

"-and do whatever you can to make it home. I mean it.”

He slammed his fist down on a bright flashing button without waiting to hear Peter’s inevitable protests. 

The screen came to life with multicolored grid spots. His mind revved up in the way it always did when it was time to problem solve, synapses firing at light speed. Grids. Geometry. Matrices of Linear Algebra. How did they connect? What was the pattern? Planar graphs were simple, only requiring a few simple formulas to find the pathway before a bit of addition and subtraction to get the rest of the way, but there was so much on the line. 

At the top corner of the screen a timer appeared. The alien symbols were unfamiliar, but intuitively, he knew they were counting down to Game Over. The time limit and his growling stomach pressed onto his thoughts, threatening to withhold the answers to the puzzle. Peter’s nervous energy, at his side, added another layer of pressure, but it also served as a reminder that he wasn’t just playing for himself.

Think think think…

The numbers swam around the screen and Tony could almost taste the incoming shame and defeat, could nearly see a vision of his frozen corpse being used as kindling in the brothel fireplaces. No one would ever know that he had doomed them because he couldn't do simple, college math, no one except for Peter.

Then, like it had done a million times before, Tony’s brain clicked and the solution fell into place. Like circuits on a motherboard or algorithms in a code, the pattern lined up and he knew what he had to do.

His fingers flew to input the outcome as the mysterious countdown slipped into the single symbols. With a final push of a button, he stepped away, winded as if he'd been jumping hurdles rather than solving equations.

“What now?” Peter’s fingers clenched on the edge of the machine.

“Now, we wait.”

The countdown ticked, ticked, and disappeared, replaced with a frightening wall of indecipherable flashing text.

Peter leaned into the screen as if moving a few inches closer could turn an alien language into English. “Did… did you win?”

Before Tony could even shrug, another message, this time in English, flashed across the screen.

TONY STARK COLLECT WINNINGS: 100 Credits

SCAN BAR BELOW

“Holy shit…” Peter gasped. “You did it.”

Hands shaking in disbelief, Tony held the bar up to the machine and watched as the zero climbed upward, feeling the knot in his gut loosen with each credit.

“Want to play again, kid?”

_____

Tony pointed at the menu proudly. “One of those for the kid, and one of those for me.” 

“Ten credits,” the bartender grunted in the metallic tone they were coming to understand was a sign of a universal translator.

Tony lifted the credit bar and watched as the 1000 ticked down to 990. He turned to Peter, who was perched on the stool next to him like a little bird on a branch.

“Plenty to spare," he proclaimed. "What do you say we get this meal To-Go and pig out while we put this hell hole behind us?”

Peter smiled innocently. “I don’t know, Mister Stark. This place is kind of growing on me. Maybe we should stay a while, take a trip to that building with the yellow robot women.”

“Sure," Tony snorted, "and then I’ll order you some hard alien liquor and let you try your hand at space poker.”

“Sounds good to me.”

It was easier to joke when the path ahead felt so clear. The promise of full cash reserve and stomachs made Tony practically drunk with joy. He had the whole survival thing in the bag.

_____

The frigid air stung Tony’s cheeks as they pushed out of the dim casino into the harsh, white Contraxian landscape. He blinked rapidly, adjusting to the change in lighting.

“The ship was over that ridge right?” Peter asked softly, rubbing his eyes as a neon sign flashed in his face.

“Should be.”

The crowds hadn’t thinned at all in the time it had taken to win the credits. If anything, the huddles of seedy visitors seemed to have increased in numbers, adding to the tense atmosphere hanging over the harshly lit streets. Tony stepped closer to Peter as they picked their way towards the exit to the square, good humor from the casino conquest all but evaporated.

“Almost there, kid,” he muttered.

Several yards from the alleyway separating the main square from the icy where they had crash landed their ship, a gravelly voice called out.

“Hey.”

Tony kept his gaze straight ahead and continued leading Peter towards the alley.

"Hey, you."

"Keep your head down," Tony murmured.

“I’m talking to you, little boy.”

Tony couldn’t help but whip his head to the side. A particularly shifty group of loiterers huddled at the entrance to a rundown business. One member of the crew stepped forward: a humanoid male-looking alien of fluorescent blue.

“Do you speak for the child?”

The speaker peered at them from his posse, yellow teeth exposed as he flashed a wicked grin.

“Yes,” Tony said, jaw tight, remembering he was the alien in this situation. He was the trespasser on someone else’s territory. "I do."

They now had the attention of the entire group. Dozens of eyes from all kinds of body parts bored holes in them. He could only hope Peter wouldn’t pay the price for his inability to shut up.

“How much?” the leader said.

“How much?” Tony repeated.

The alien—for lack of a better term—made a rumbling noise in his throat and stepped closer. “For the boy. How many credits?”

“Not for sale,” he said through clenched teeth.

The group spread out, blocking their way into the alley leading out of the city.

“He is small. Small and agile fingers are ideal for ship work. For that, I promise I will pay you very handsomely.”

He could feel Peter slide closer and a hot iron rod of rage went through his chest—the usually fearless kid was scared.

“Not in a million years.”

“Let me rephrase then, perhaps my translator is faulty. We will be making an exchange.”

Tony took an involuntary step back, gripping Peter’s arm.

“I was being generous, but I see now that was foolish.” The hostile alien smiled ferociously. “Now I will make you a second offer. How much will you pay me to let you keep him?”

Anything, his mind supplied before the words fully registered.

“I–“

Tony scanned the group. They needed the money, but he was still recovering from being skewered on Titan and, with no tech, there was no chance of beating the goons alone. These creatures wanted the boy without knowing he was enhanced. Even if he were remotely okay with Peter fighting, it would only draw more attention. 

“Speak,” the leader urged.

“I can give you one hundred credits.”

"Mister Stark," Peter hissed.

The alien’s eyes narrowed, giving him a snakelike appearance which did nothing to quell the storm churning in Tony’s stomach.

“Not enough.”

“Two hundred.”

The alien folded his arms. “Not enough.”

Tony looked down to Peter who was staring ahead with a brave face. He could feel that he was tensed to fight. 

Can't let them see his strength.

“Three hundred credits," he said. "Final offer.”

It took a concerted effort to not add please to the end of his offer. They couldn’t afford to lose much more money, but Tony didn’t want to appear weak. Not with so much on the line.

The alien considered for a moment and Tony prayed he wouldn’t have to go any higher. With the remaining 700 credits they (or more plainly he) would have to skip a few meals, but they could still make it back to Earth.

“Very well.” The leader frowned. “Three hundred credits credits and you will be allowed to leave.”

Tony thrust his hands into his bag to offer the credit bar for the exchange.

Give the money, get the kid, and get out.

He tried to conceal the wince as he watched his hard earned credits bleed into the pockets of scum.

“Thank you for doing business.” The alien bared his sharp teeth in a vicious grin. “It was a pleasure.”

To Tony’s somewhat surprise, the thief and his crew shuffled to the side, leaving a pathway for Tony and Peter to exit. 

And they say there’s no honor amongst thieves.

Not wanting to test the patience of the gang, Tony grabbed Peter’s shoulder tightly and strode forward, keeping both of their heads down as they passed through the hostile crowd.

“Just keep moving ahead kid,” he muttered as they passed through the rusted archway, “I’ve got you.”

Peter’s expression was impossible to read, barely visible in the dim green glow of a lewd advertisement that hung from the nearest window, but Tony could feel the pace that his shoulders rose and fell.

“It’s alright, kid. Almost there,” he urged, quickening their pace as the nose of the ship came into view nestled in a snowbank.

They took the last several yards at a near sprint, wasting no time in jumping on the ramp and into the now familiar interior of the ship. It was then, gasping for breath in the hub of their new home that Tony was able to fully see Peter.

His skin was nearly as white as the Contraxian landscape, though his cheeks were a flushed rosy red. His curly brown hair was still dotted with flakes of snow that were already beginning to melt in the warmth of the ship as he leaned over a metal counter top and heaved, likely a result of the residual terror from nearly being kidnapped by space goons and sprinting across a frozen alien city in retreat.

Peter glanced up, meeting Tony’s eyes. For a moment, they just stared, drinking in the rise and fall of each other’s chests. Then, Peter straightened and placed a steadying hand on the counter.

“Thanks for not selling me for booze money.”

A tiny laugh escaped from Tony’s lips and a bit of the chill from the outdoors that had soaked into his bones melted away.

“Yeah, well, you heard the guy. Your tiny fingers are useful on the ship. Guess you’ll have to earn your keep.”

The beginnings of a smile that Peter had been showing faded, replaced with more of a grimace.

“We needed 750 credits for the trip home.”

Tony shrugged. “We’ll make do.”

“Mister Stark, I’m sixteen years old.”

“I’m aware of how old you are, kid…way too aware.”

“You don’t have to keep doing this though.”

“Saving your life?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “‘Cause I think I do have to keep doing that. Been doing a pretty piss-poor job of it so far, to be fair.”

“I know you’ve been giving me your rations,” Peter said, voice dripping with accusation, “and I know you’re going to do it again since we lost the money.”

“We’ve all got parts to play in this shit show,” Tony said, not bothering to deny Peter’s claim, “and you being here is on me. So from now on, you can help me do my job by letting me keep you safe.”

Peter frowned, eyes boring holes into the metallic shine of the floor.

“I’m a hero too, you know.”

“I know that, and you’ve been nothing short of amazing so far.”

“Then why won’t you let me help you? I've got powers. I could've fought them.”

“Peter–” The boy looked up at the sound of his name, something Tony hadn’t really ever called him before. “You’re the kind of hero they can’t replace. The people at home need you, especially now, so I’m going to get you to them.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’m a lot of things,” Tony said firmly. “Irreplaceable isn’t anywhere near the top of the list.”

“You save people all the time. They need you on Earth, now more than ever.”

“Honestly, kid? I’m only concerned about saving one person right now, and it sure as hell isn't me.”

Peter’s mouth opened and closed several times.

“Fine,” he finally relented, though Tony got the distinct impression the conversation wasn’t quite over. “So where to now?”

Chapter Text

June 2018

The densely forested Berhert—the third layover on what was becoming a very lengthy journey home—was by far their smoothest stop yet. After the fiasco with the band of thugs on the snowy peaks of Contraxia, Tony clung to the hope of calm and solitude. 

Peter had found the little green planet in the Survivor’s Guide with coordinates to a fueling station along with the promising descriptors: “fairly peaceful ” and “sparsely populated ” and, upon arrival to a mild climate and lush greenery, he was quite pleased to find the guide’s description to be apt. The boy had all but launched himself from the ship the moment they had touched down, hurtling down the ramp and into the thick emerald foliage of their new little team’s fourth alien planet.

“Kid,” Tony had already thrown down the controls to race after him. “I wasn’t ready!”

Peter looked back guiltily, already nearly ten feet from the landing site. 

“Sorry," he called back. "I just don’t think I’ve seen a tree in months.”

“You’re from New York City. Going months without seeing a tree can’t be new.”

“You live there too,” Peter shot back. “Ever heard of a park?”

“Fine,” Tony huffed, resting a hand on his hip that he knew looked far too paternal. “We won’t be here long, anyways. Just...stick by me.”

Peter grinned, shifting towards a towering evergreen at the edge of the clearing. “This is incredible,” he whispered, bending down to admire a fat leaf protruding from a sturdy looking bush at the foot of the tree. “It looks so much like Earth. Just imagine all of the atmospheric conditions that had to have come together to create all of this.”

The part of Tony still in survival mode wanted to start griping again—to tell Peter that every second they spent here was a second they could be spending getting home—but the long-suffering scientist in him and the unknown, unnamed sensation of warmth and contentment he felt whenever the kid was happy whispered that a few seconds of exploration couldn't hurt.

Everything’s gone to hell anyways, thought the voice that was getting much too loud for his liking these days. Why not make a tiny cup of lemonade from the mountain of lemons that life dumped on us?

He walked over to Peter and crouched down to look at the leaf, squinting at the intricate veins stretching across its surface like elegant spider webs. “Makes you wonder…” he mused, running a finger down the stem. “If the plants here are green, does that mean there’s chlorophyll in them?”

Peter looked up, clearly surprised but immensely pleased by the participation.

“Maybe?”

“What’s your hypothesis?” 

Science. The language they shared. 

“I don’t know if there’s any way to tell without some set of tools. A simple chemistry set maybe, a mass spectrometer, a fully stocked botany lab...”

The teen flitted from bush to bush, gleefully investigating each new find with as much enthusiasm as the last. Tony sat with his back against an uprooted tree and watched, allowing a Peter-induced calm to quell the chronic swirl of anxiety for a minute.

It felt so good to feel so good. He would need to keep the kid around for more science talk when they made it back to Earth.

“You should take some samples,” he suggested as Peter knelt in the dirt, examining a tangle of vines.

Peter looked up. “You think?”

“I doubt humans are going to reach this place anytime soon. No reason we can’t make a small contribution to the scientific community while we’re around.”

“That-” Peter beamed, already bending down to scoop up a pile of dirt. “-is a fantastic idea.”

“I’ve been known to have those from time to time.” He shrugged. “Wait here. I’ll go see if I can scrounge a bottle or two from the ship.”

Peter nodded, completely engrossed in the vines again.

Tony strolled back to the ship with a smile playing across his lips, humming a cheery tune as he combed the ship’s shelves. He easily located a small collection of vials at the back of a cupboard.

“Watch out NASA,” he muttered, grabbing a handful and heading back out to the clearing.

Peter was still absorbed in the vines, holding the plant up to the shimmering blue sky.

“Found ‘em.” Tony announced, proudly waving the vials above his head.

Peter lowered the vine, grinning. “Awesome.”

“Here. Catch.” 

Tony tossed the vials into Peter’s outstretched hands and settled against a surprisingly comfortable tree to watch as the boy quickly filled a few with dirt and plant matter. While Peter worked, he kept up a monologue of all of the ideas he'd had in the sixty seconds Tony had been gone. Tony wasn't surprised to find that Peter could fit a lot of thoughts into sixty seconds.

“-cannot wait to test this when we get back. We could run it through your–” Peter finally cut himself off. His face flushed and he looked as if he wanted to sink back into the mossy trees. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume anything.”

Tony frowned, surprised to discover that he was offended by Peter’s sudden shyness. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Peter blinked. “What?”

“Kid, I think putting up with me for months on end has given you the right to use some of my lab equipment.”

“Oh…”

He could've left the moment there, threw out an unfunny joke and let the swirl of easy chatter sweep the vulnerability away, but something welled up inside of him and he shifted against the mossy bark.

“Plus...I don’t exactly hate having you around.”

“Oh .” Peter paused, staring down at the half-filled vials in his hands with far too much scrutiny. “Well, uh, thanks. I don’t exactly hate having you around either.”

The uneasy tender moment hung in the moist piney air for a beat.

“Don’t push it though,” Tony added. “I still haven’t forgiven you for stowing away on the space donut in New York.”

“Nah,” Peter slyly grinned, easily falling back into step. “You just admitted that you love having me around.”

“I did no such thing.”

“Hate is the absence of love, so if there is no absence of love…”

“Jesus, just get the samples.”

Peter obeyed and they settled back into relaxation, forgetting the insanity of their lives and the horrors of the rest of the universe for a brief, golden moment. A musical sort of wind was blowing through the trees and the creaks and clacks of nature ebbed and swelled around them. In a word, it was beautiful.

Peter had almost finished stuffing tree moss into his second to last vial when a rustling came from the underbrush, immediately followed by a burst of motion as a small, furry creature crawled from the underbrush.

Tony froze, the moment shattered, but Peter let out a gasp of joy.

“Mister Stark, are you seeing this?”

The guide had described Berhert as fairly peaceful and sparsely populated, but it hadn't said completely danger-free and one-hundred percent uninhabited.

“That's great, kid.” He pushed himself off of the ground, hoping his sudden change of mood wasn’t terribly obvious, “but I think it's time to get going. Science is going to have to wait.”

Peter only shrugged—ever the appeaser—pocketing his vials and offering the fuzzy mongrel a quick wave. “The fueling station shouldn’t be too far,” he volunteered. “The coordinates put it just past this clearing.”

_____

“Can you believe how many planets there are in the universe?”

They hadn’t spent more than a few hours restocking their pantry and adjusting their course before trading the peace and quiet of the wooded paradise for the incessant hum of the ship engine and blinking lights of the passing planetary system.

Tony didn’t look up from the chart he was studying. “Statistically? Yes.”

“Non-statistically?”

“It is pretty amazing,” he admitted, “to actually get to see some of them.”

_____

The GPS resting between their chairs displayed the predicted arrival time at the final planned pit-stop before Earth at one week, putting the time until their return home tentatively at three weeks. A four month journey home hadn’t been in the original plan, but Tony couldn’t quite find it in himself to mourn for the lost time. Of course he missed everyone on earth, sometimes to the point of physical pain, but he wasn’t prepared to officially know if they had survived the dusting. He never would be.

Something else had shifted too. Somewhere in between the tenth and twentieth paper football tournament, the fiftieth and hundredth shared sleepless night, he had forgotten to be terrified every waking moment. What they considered to be nighttime hours were still quiet affairs. Peter tossed and turned in his bunk while Tony stared at the galaxies wandering past the window, trying not to think about how much of a home was going to be left. During their “days”, however, the pair found themselves sharing lighthearted stories and playing whatever games either could think of.

From his usual seat in the pilot's chair, Tony nudged a discarded triangle of tightly folded food wrappers with his foot, nodding his head along to the tune of a song Peter had taken to humming under his breath.

“Would you stop that?” he groaned, shaking his head like a wet dog as if trying to dislodge the song from his brain.

“Stop what?” Peter smiled innocently, tapping his fingers to the beat.

“I’ll kick you out of my cockpit if you don’t stop humming that awful song.”

“S’not your cockpit.”

Another change. They no longer paused to consider the morbid fate of the previous owners of the ship. 

Tony bent down to snatch the paper football from the floor and flicked it at Peter with the precision and accuracy from all of the hours he’d spent honing the craft over the last weeks.

Peter easily intercepted the projectile, not even fully turning as the paper found its way into his fingers.

“If it’s the humming that bothers you, I can always add in the lyrics.”

“Don’t you dare.” Tony wagged a finger in warning, eyes narrowed in preparation for the onslaught of a terribly-sung chorus.

Peter opened his mouth to begin what surely would’ve been a stellar rendition of his most annoying song when the space GPS lit up and a sharp beep beep beep filled the room.

The teen’s mouth snapped shut and both focused their attention on the screen, playtime forgotten.

ASTEROID FIELD AHEAD

CONFIRM PROPOSED PATH DIVERSION

Below the alert, a second line of text appeared.

PATH DIVERSION LENGTH: 1 month

Tony shot up from his seat at the control panel and hurried to one of the shelves, grabbing the black bound guide book that had become their lifeline over the last months.

“No… No, no, no," he whispered as his fingers fumbled with the pages. "Can’t we have one good thing?”

“What does that even mean?” Peter shouted from the cockpit where he was already pouring over the output of charts and numbers filling the screens.

Tony flew to the index, mouthing the chapter titles as he scanned the text.

Abiotic factors, Alien diplomacy, Asking for directions.

“Asteroids!”

The excerpt began with a brief description of an asteroid which he skimmed past, searching desperately for any tips on avoiding them, or at least whether or not their autopilot could guide them through an oncoming storm safely.

“Come on…come on…" he urged the black ink and cream colored paper. "Give me something!”

“Mister Stark, should I accept the path diversion or not?”

The asteroid information stretched on, continuing to a second page. Tony squeezed his eyes shut as his mind raced at light speed. Which path was a greater risk? Could they make it through an asteroid field? Could they make it through another month of travel?

“Aw hell,” he hissed, slamming his fist down. “We don’t have a month.”

He took a steadying breath and turned to Peter. The boy’s eyes were wide and his mouth was twisted into a concerned frown.

“Hit cancel,” Tony ordered.

Understanding flashed in the teen’s face and he nodded once, grim with quiet acceptance. “Okay."

With a single, cautious finger, Peter pressed the blinking button. 

All of the flashing lights and shrill beeps halted at once, plunging the pair into chilling darkness and deafening silence, broken only by the gentle creaking sounds of the ship

“Is...that it?” Peter glanced around the dim room as if further directions might be written in the shadows. “What do we do now?”

This time, it was almost easy to ignore the shot of panic that jolted through his chest at the question.

“Buckle in and hold tight.”

The silence hung over them like a lead blanket, every pop and hiss of the ship’s engines accelerating the pounding in Tony’s chest by a tenfold. Despite his urgent directions, neither made a move towards their seats, both frozen in fixation at the dark abyss that was visible through the side window. He shook himself out of the trance and turned to Peter.

“I meant now, kid. We have no idea when the storm is about to h–”

The end of his instructions were lost as the ship lurched to the side, a loud BOOM accompanying the force. Both of the travelers were flung off of their feet and crashed to the ground.

“Mister Stark?!” Peter groaned from somewhere across the room. “Are you–“

Another CRASH—this time from the bottom of the ship—sent them lurching into the air. A cry from Peter meant the impact hadn’t rendered him unconscious. Tony frantically scanned the room, scrambling for a table to balance on.

“Peter!” he shrieked into the empty air.

“I’m good!” a small voice came from one of the shelves.

“Kid, grab onto something and don’t let g–”

The ship was rocked by another side collision and a box flew off of a table, only missing Tony’s head by an inch.

“Cover your head!” he shouted into the chaos, praying Peter could hear him over the now constant barrage of shakes, bangs, and booms.

Instinct took over and Tony decided against trying to stand, instead electing to cling to the leg of one of the tables for dear life.

All your fault, he berated himself. You couldn’t handle a month more in space and now you’re going to die out here and bring the kid down with you.

The biggest crash yet tore through the ship and Tony heard a creaking sound followed by an awful riiiip that he knew from years of robotics work was the sound of metal breaking.

Please no.

It was all he could do to hold on and hope, willing the hull of the ship to remain unbreached. Neither of them could survive being sucked into space where space rocks could rip them apart and air couldn’t reach their lungs.

The bangs and lurches continued. 

Nausea crept in, kept at bay only by the rush of adrenaline allowing him to cling to the table leg as sparks flew and the once perfectly catalogued items rained from the shelves. As the chaos rained, the time between impacts slowly grew longer and longer. Tony began counting under his breath, still clutching onto the table leg, until he got to nearly two minutes without being rocked by a crash.

Daring to hope that the worst was over but not brave enough to rejoice at his own apparent survival, he slid from under the table, suppressing a grunt at the ache in his joints as he clambered to a standing position.

“Kid?” his voice echoed through the ship. 

Not a single item remained on a shelf. Their contents were scattered in countless pieces around the grimy metal floors. Any furniture that hadn’t been bolted down lay haphazard on its side. The control panel was lit up with an array of colors he knew meant nothing good. Several feet away a scattering of glass shards surrounded a loose pile of dirt. The samples. Tony's heart sank.

“Peter, answer me.” He knew that he sounded completely feral, like a panicked animal running from a hunter's bow.

No response. A shot of ice went straight through his chest. The fear of what he would or wouldn’t find in the wreckage kept his breath at bay as he rushed about the room, pushing toppled cabinets aside with reckless abandon and calling out the kids name.

His throat was tight and tears were threatening to gather when he caught sight of a collapsed bench faintly shifting near the control panel.

“Peter? Kid?”

He crossed the room in seconds, reaching the plank and flinging it away to reveal a shaken, yet very alive Peter Parker curled in a fetal position.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered furiously, falling to his knees at Peter's side. “Talk to me, kiddo.”

Peter made a strangled noise and rolled onto his back, staring up at Tony's as he searched the teen’s face for signs of injuries.

“Did’n make it t’the chair,” Peter mumbled semi-coherently. “Th'samples broke. M’sorry.”

Tony’s laugh came out watery as he grabbed the boy’s hand and hauled him into a seated position. He stayed on his knees so they were facing each other eye to eye.

“It’s alright,” he choked out. “Those don't matter right now. Just look at me for a sec, okay? I want to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

Peter managed to hold Tony’s stare for several seconds. The boy was definitely dazed, but his pupils didn’t appear severely dilated and he blinked with a growing awareness.

“M’alright.”

If there was a concussion, it was mild. Not that there was anything they could do if it wasn't.

“Sure you are. Can you get up?”

Peter pushed himself onto his knees and grabbed the toppled bench, standing up on shaky legs. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t push yourself, kid,” he cautioned.

“I said I was fine,” Peter snapped. He glanced around the room, taking in the chaos. “Is the ship okay?” 

Tony plastered on his most cheerful grimace. “Tough to say.”

Peter scrunched his nose. “What does that even mean?”

“The good news is that we made it through the storm alive.” 

“Which means the bad news is…”

“I need to go check and see if the hull tore at all.”

“Oh.” Peter tilted his head thoughtfully. “We wouldn’t be able to hear each other if the hull was breached. We couldn’t hear anything. Sound doesn’t travel in a vacuum”

Tony rolled his eyes, too pleased that the kid was lucid enough to spout science and too preoccupied by the damage to do anything else.

“Thanks Sally Ride, I know a thing or two about sound waves. I also wouldn’t be able to hear you if the hull was breached because we would be sucked into the asteroid field where we’d suffocate and die in seconds.”

“Then why’d you say we needed to check? We can hear each other so…no tears, right?”

“Tearing doesn’t need to mean a gaping hole. Any damage to the exterior is potentially dangerous. Slight tears can turn into gaping holes.”

Peter didn’t answer, instead moving to the side flight deck windows where not a single object was visible.

“See anything?” Tony called over.

Peter shook his head.

“No, I-” His lips suddenly pursed in a way that made Tony feel like one of the asteroids from the field had lodged inside of his gut. “I...uh...think you should see this though.”

Tony approached and peered through the window, following Peter’s gaze until he saw exactly what had made the kid frown so sharply. His knees went weak.

The part of their view normally taken up by the starboard wing of the ship showed nothing but the gaping chasm of space. A single wire floated just outside of the window in the exact spot where the wing used to be.

“I think our steering is broken,” Peter whispered, and Tony almost wished that they were in a vacuum so he couldn’t have heard anything at all.

_____

The first day adrift kept the pair of survivors busy. After the discovery of the missing wing, they began the arduous task of picking up the ship and cataloguing which supplies had survived the storm and which lost items they would need to learn to live without. 

By some stroke of luck, the shelf that held most of their food had remained mostly intact, leaving them with almost all three weeks worth of the rations they had purchased on Berhart. 

The GPS was still partially functioning, showing their immediate surroundings without the ability to chart a course. The engines worked enough to push them forward over short distances with minor manual control, but Tony didn’t want to use it unless absolutely necessary.

The life support functions of the ship had also mercifully survived, but Tony knew that, with the steering and directions broken, it was not only possible but highly probable that they would run out of food before anything else.

It was a death sentence, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to stop moving. Whenever he caught sight of Peter working tirelessly to shift debris piece after debris piece he couldn’t help but keep forging on.

_____

The second day was spent in almost complete silence. Tony retreated to his bunk, finding himself unable to look at the kid for too long without losing his breath.

_____

The third day found Tony sitting in the pilot's chair—now just as useful as any other chair on the ship with most of its piloting functions out of commission— with his feet propped against the dashboard. He watched the nearly blank GPS with a thousand yard stare as small landmarks of the secluded corner of the galaxy came and went. They had barely avoided a collision with a planet the day before. Tony had managed to use the manual control to inch them out of the way, just barely avoiding the outer rims of the atmosphere the Survivor’s Guide had described as “generally unfavorable to life.” 

Part of him wished they had crashed in, solely to experience the feeling of solid ground one last time.

An unfortunate side effect of distancing from Peter was that the teen’s infectious positivity was absent from his life. Tony spent most of his waking hours afraid that he’d finally killed the kid. Just as he had worried months earlier, it was unimaginably cruel to have been given just enough time to get attached before having to watch the boy die. 

And Peter would probably go first—no matter how many rations Tony snuck him—the enhanced metabolism would ensure that. At least the boy wouldn't have to die alone. No matter how much the thought aggrieved Tony, he would never let Peter go without company. He would pull himself together and face the kid in the end.

Peter’s mop of brown hair stuck out from the mound of discarded jackets that rose and fell as he snored softly. The glow of a passing nebula illuminated his face like an ethereal halo, adding to the trademarked innocence that plagued Tony with so much guilt. He tore his eyes away, looking back to the screen. 

Another blinking dot had appeared on the GPS with the inconspicuous label G4R-10C.

He leaned forward and grabbed the guide, flipping without much haste to the region of the galaxy they were in. Planets had come and gone, but most had been too far to reach or too hostile to enter. The Survivor’s Guide had contained very minimal information, offering only a short list of places labeled “easy to miss.” If space were a highway, these planets were towns too insignificant to qualify for a single stoplight.

Tony located the name of the planet from the GPS. 

G4R-10C was barely a footnote on the page. It didn’t even have a population size listed, not that one would be very accurate after the decimation of the universe. The planet only had 2 symbols next to it on the list: the signs for inhabited and supports-life. 

To a desperate Tony Stark, however, those two symbols meant more than anything. They meant salvation.

His breathing hitched. He slammed the book down with renewed vigor and focused back on the GPS, calculating the time and distance between the ship and the planet. He flew through the math, checking and double checking the flight pattern and watching the distance close as his heart pounded in his chest. The directions were decidedly favorable and if his equations were correct—which they usually were—a few short maneuvers could place them within landing path.

It’s a chance.

Seconds turned into minutes and eventually a small yellowing dot became visible in the window. G4R-10C

Not entirely exciting, but it’s better than starving out here.

Tony looked down at Peter’s sleeping form, taking in the rise and fall of his chest for a little while longer, he could wake him when they got a little closer to the landing, tell him the glorious news. 

“It’s just for a little while,” he mumbled to his comatose companion. “We'll be home soon.”

NINE MONTHS LATER

On Earth, the 365th day since Tony Stark and Peter Parker disappeared into space came and went. Their names were etched carefully into the somber, black marble memorial erected in the center of Manhattan on the anniversary of the great massacre of the universe—a mistake no artist, architect, or project manager knew was being made.

Those left behind would sometimes stop at the stone and spare a thought for the billionaire inventor who had saved the world one-too-few times. The locals who remembered occasionally gazed at the sea of silver etchings as they went about rebuilding their lives and mourned the absence of red and blue spandex swinging through Queens, wondering which of the names belonged to their lost vigilante.

The select few who cared—truly cared—about Tony Stark and Peter Parker as individuals assumed both had tragically turned to dust and drifted off somewhere like so many others. None had the faintest clue that, though they drifted, both heroes were very much in one piece.

Chapter Text

June 2019

Tony hadn't been kind to his body in life, but this was something else. The soles of his feet protested with each step, his back cried out at every minute twist and turn, and his eyes burned with the dry heat of the two orange, desert suns blazing above.

He wrapped his cloak tighter around his face, the porous fabric pulling painfully at stray facial hairs but shielding him from the bullet-like sand that whipped past.

The worst part of it all, Tony thought, as he trudged across the harsh alien plains, was that he would have to do it all over again the next day.

_____

The yellow, sand-covered dot on the GPS had turned out to be a sort of pit-stop in the intergalactic community, frequented by travelers en-route to more important and desirable locations. Home only to a small population of wanderers and runaways, the planet lacked any distinct culture or vibrancy. Long days, short nights, and a strange salty atmosphere with little to no precipitation made G4R-10C a harsh, but relatively safe place to live.

Several weeks had turned into several months and the weary travelers Tony Stark and Peter Parker had melded into the bizarre corner of the galaxy, becoming just two more anonymous faces in the endless cycle of visitors and vagabonds on the dusty, desert world. 

An earthy hut the shade of shredded wheat greeted Tony at the edge of a jagged, rust-colored rock formation, guarded only by a shriveled shrub and a rickety door. With a final push, he staggered across the threshold and into the ramshackle structure’s arid darkness.

“Honey, I’m home,” he called into the shadows. His voice was hoarse from hours of inhaling sand and dust.

“Mister Stark!”

A small, shaggy head popped out from the dusty loft above the single room of the hut and Tony couldn’t keep a small smile from creeping across his face.

“It’s June 15th, 8am Eastern Standard Time,” Tony informed, making his way towards the cracked table at the corner of the room.

Half of Peter's body hung out of the loft, his head tilting at an angle that made him bear great resemblance to a floppy-eared puppy dog. 

“You got to work on the ship today.”

“Mmm.” Tony nodded. “Scavenged a spare part from a junker at the shop. Don’t want to get any hopes up but it was a pretty great find. Might’ve cut down our wait by a month at least.”

The only working Earth-Time clock within a light-years radius was built into the cockpit of their broken ship and stowed away in the planet’s machine shop. On the days he managed to sneak in a few hours of repair between hauling scrap metal and welding wires, Tony always checked it for a morsel of connection to the home that, sometimes, seemed like just a fuzzy memory from another life.

Peter pulled himself into a more serious seated position, his legs swinging against the loft ladder.

“June, huh?” he mused, his mind no doubt filled with images of steaming sidewalks and shimmering skyscrapers. “The city has to be nearly as hot as here by now.”

“At least they’ve got AC in New York.”

“My apartment didn’t. You’re just spoiled.”

“You know, I’m starting to realize that,” Tony grunted, falling into a rickety chair pushed against a wall. “Really wish I was relishing all that luxury right about now.”

Peter’s expression softened and he scrambled down the ladder.

“They work you too hard today?” He came to perch on the dusty table next to Tony, who waved a dismissive hand. 

“Nothing I can’t handle.” 

“You should start a union.”

Tony chuckled. “As a former CEO I should be scandalized…but as a current lowly space mechanic? I’m almost tempted to agree.”

“Why don’t you do something about it?”

“My mastery of the local dialect is shaky at best, but I’m pretty sure I understood the words rest and punishable by death .”

Peter’s face twisted. “Don’t joke about that. That’s horrible.”

“I never said I was joking.”

Peter glared reproachfully.

“It’s the best we can do right now, kid,” Tony sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with grimy hands that he would get around to washing eventually. “But hey, tomorrow’s my day off. One break every five days ain’t half bad.”

“When the days on this planet are 30 hours long it is.”

“Longer work days means longer rest days.” Tony tapped his skull theatrically, bits of sand falling to the already grain-covered floor. “Think about it.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “That’s not much of a consolation prize.”

He wasn’t wrong. After all of the months spent stranded on planets with varying degrees of livability, Tony would be the first to admit that he’d grown up in the lap of luxury. Even as a self-proclaimed workaholic, “barely getting by ” felt like a vast overstatement of circumstances. 

“In other news,” Tony verbally pivoted, sinking deeper into the chair, “there’s word around the shop that a new governor is coming into power. It might affect my hours if he brings more traffic to this part of the galaxy. More hours for me but more money for us.”

Space politics. The list of Sci-Fi tragedies in his life was longer than the receipts from his old pharmacy at home.

“That’s ridiculous.” Peter’s nose scrunched in distaste. “How could you do more hours? You're, like, never here already.”

“I’d manage. Don’t worry about it.” 

Slaving away in subpar conditions for a barely sustainable wage was a new life experience for him, but not something for the kid to fret about. Not just yet.

Peter regarded him with barely concealed skepticism, pushing Tony to force a strained laugh.

“Remember when people at home wished for more hours in the day?" He winced at the grit still lodged in his throat. "Idiots.” 

“This-” Peter rested a determined hand on his hip. “-is why you should let me get a job at the shop.”

“Not a chance,” Tony snorted. “Nice try though.”

“I’m serious.”

Tony suppressed a shudder at the thought of the kid he had spent over a year protecting hunched over the dark tables and dangerous machinery of the machine shop. 

“So am I.”

Peter crossed his arms, sticking out his lower lip. He looked very much his age and it did very little to sway Tony to his crusade. “We need money, Mister Stark.”

“I know that,” he insisted. “Trust me, Peter. Drop it.”

“I just think–”

“No matter how many times you ask, the answer is going to be no.”

Peter sighed, clearly catching that his argument had hit a brick wall. “I looked at the savings this afternoon–”

“You don’t need to look at the savings.”

“–and at this rate we’re going to need another year before we can even think about leaving this place. No matter how many hours some new governor lays on you.”

Tony wanted nothing more in that moment than to crawl into the loft and curl up in the pile of blankets they’d collected. Fighting with Peter was the opposite of that. Especially an argument they’d had so many times before.

“I have it handled,” he said with finality.

“But-”

“This isn’t up for discussion." Tony shifted in the chair to sit up straighter and met Peter’s defiant gaze with his own. "You’re not working at the shop.”

“I just don’t. understand. why.” Peter punctuated each word with an emphatic gesture.

“Because I said so,” he shot back, cringing before the words even left his mouth. God, he sounded just like his father.

Peter scoffed, “Real mature.”

“This is neither necessary nor negotiable.”

“Come on. I can help!”

“Peter,” he warned. “Enough. This isn’t going anywhere.”

Peter stared back, eyes narrowed and fist clenched together. Tony could practically hear the gears churning in the boy's head, calculating his chances of salvaging a win from the quarrel. Finally, Peter let out a long sigh of exasperation, letting his arms flop onto the tabletop. 

“Fine,” he said halfheartedly. “Did you at least bring anything for me to work on?”

Tony’s shoulders sagged. Thank God, he didn't have the stamina to keep fighting with the kid. He nodded, reaching into his satchel, thrilled to let the debate go—at least for the moment—and procured a round metal object. 

“Catch.” He tossed the device across the room into Peter’s waiting hands.

Peter held the sphere up to the dim light streaming through their cracked window, squinting at the dents and divots marring the surface.

“Looks like an air filtration unit,” Peter observed curiously, lingering frustration already giving way to a hint of the youthful effervescence Tony had come to rely on.

“Well spotted. Think you can fix it?”

“Maybe?" Peter flipped the machine over, running a reverent finger along the metallic surface. "Probably.”

“You’ll get it. If not, I'll take a look when I have time.”

Peter set the sphere down. “Oh, by the way, I got the water converter fixed up today so we can drink more than that sad drizzle without having to wait an hour.”

“I’m impressed.”

“It’d be great if I could find something to cut down the distance between here and the river.”

“That might be too much to hope for, but nice work,” Tony complimented, reaching out to tussle the boy's hair. “See, kiddo? Everything is working out. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

“I still want to help,” Peter grumbled, batting his hand away gently.

“You are helping. I wouldn’t have made it this far alone.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Wrong. Someone has to tend to hearth and home and we both know I can’t follow the recipes from the Guide half as well as you can.”

“Speaking of recipes,” Peter began, leaping off the table in one graceful motion. “I found one that uses only two local ingredients and the description said it tasted just like bread. Thought I’d try it tonight.”

“Sounds great.”

Peter made his way over to the makeshift kitchen nestled under the loft and opened a cupboard, procuring two small boxes that they had bought on Tony’s last day off. He held them up to the light as he hummed a tune that often played on the radio at the local market. Tony watched in amusement as Peter busied himself with preparations, admiring the way the kid bustled around the cramped kitchen space as if a potentially radioactive spat hadn’t been narrowly avoided just minutes before. 

If G4R-10C hadn’t had multiple suns, Tony was confident that they would’ve been kept in steady supply of energy solely from Peter’s disposition. 

He tore off one of his worn boots and rubbed circles into his ankles, biting back a groan as the blood returned to his soles. Kicking off the other boot, he leaned back into the chair, eyes closed as the comforting noise of Peter clanging together the two rusty pans they had scrounged mingled with the soft sounds of sand rushing across the surface of the planet. For an exquisite moment, he allowed himself to rest, letting the promise of 30 hours free from the heat, smells, and clangs of the machine shop sink in.

A particularly loud bang from the kitchen made him crack an eye open.

“Sorry,” Peter quickly called from his station. “Made the stove burn too hot too fast.”

“Do I need to supervise this culinary adventure?”

“No! Just stay there and rest.”

But the serenity had already evaporated like liquid in the planet's blazing suns. Tony heaved himself into a standing position and lumbered over to the stove, leaning against a cracked counter to better observe the process. Peter was peering over some sort of purple vegetable with unsightly lumps. 

“That’s a new one,” he remarked. “Where’d it come from?”

“The market in town,” Peter answered, not taking his eyes off of the pot.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “There’s only one store in this god forsaken place so I figured that one out for myself. I just don’t remember getting it on my last day off.”

When possible, Tony cut costs and put aside a meager sum of credits for the return journey, skipping a meal here and there or searching the market for cheap goods. He knew every last item in their sparse pantry.

“Well,” Peter’s eyes shifted and Tony felt an involuntary shiver run up his spine. “About that.”

As a pair of companions, the two of them had developed some necessary level of closeness over the past year through stolen moments of joy amongst the grueling conditions, but he didn’t tuck the kid in at night or watch his soccer games. He was not Peter’s father. He barely even considered himself to be some kind of second-rate surrogate for one and he certainly wasn’t trying to parent him. Above all meaningless titles, Tony was responsible for Peter’s well-being and had set one rule: don’t go out into the strange planet alone.

“Peter.”

“It's a funny story actually. You’ll laugh.”

Tony crossed his arms and frowned, hoping Peter saw a stern and solid figure, not an overbearing, worried old man. “Then I can’t wait to hear it.”

Peter had the decency to look nervous, stirring his pot with unnecessary vigor

“So...yesterday, when you were at work–”

“I already hate where this is going.”

“Just listen," Peter insisted. "So I was sitting around here, like I do every day, and I was looking through the Guide to see if there was anything useful for dinner because we're pretty low on supplies–”

“We’re going shopping tomorrow . I already set the money aside.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“So, I saw that bread recipe and it looked perfect.”

“And?”

“And you were at work, but I wanted to make you something more substantial since you’ve been working so much. So I ran to the market and bought the root. I was in and out and didn't talk to anyone. I swear. ”

Peter looked so well-intentioned, so strong in his belief that he had done the right thing, that Tony almost wanted to believe him. But the raging monster inside of him that never slept and was devoted solely to the well-being of Peter Parker reared its head and growled.

“How could you be so careless?” Tony demanded. 

“Seriously?”

“I only asked one thing of you.”

“Yeah? Well it’s not exactly easy being stuck in the darkness for thirty hours a day.”

“Oh I’m so sorry. I’ll send a sympathy card when I find the time. I’m sure I’ll get around to it in a month or two.”

“That’s not fair.”

Tony pursed his lips and scratched at his untamed beard, a sigh of exasperation bubbling up. “Isn’t it?”

“Mister Stark,” Peter said softly, holding up both hands in surrender, the stirring spoon still gripped in one hand, dripping purple liquid onto the dirt floor. “I don’t want to fight tonight. Or ever.”

It was then, staring into Peter’s earnest eyes and clenched jaw, that Tony knew the discussion they’d begun earlier was going to have to happen. He took a steadying breath and leaned against the counter for support.

“We need to talk about this,” he began, pushing down the protective monster that wanted nothing more than to lock Peter in a box and never let him go. “I don’t want to fight either, kid, but you and I? That’s it for me right now. I can’t let anything happen to you. I won’t. ”

"You don't think I feel the same way?"

"I know you do."

"Then how does this not make you the universe's biggest hypocrite?"

"Because..."

"Because you think this is all your fault?" The shadows from the waning light lit Peter’s tight expression, accentuating the stubborn resolve in his faint frown and furrowed brows. “Not that you'll ever believe me, but it isn't, you know."

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but Peter beat him to it.

"It makes you anxious, I get that, but it’s just the town. The people on this planet aren’t… friendly, but they’re mostly harmless.”

“Mostly doesn’t cut it. Every day we wake up in this pile of dirt, on this wasteland of a planet and I work and fix the ship and try to get us home–”

“–and I want to help you! How many times do I have to say it?”

“Let me finish.” Tony held up a finger. “Every day we wake up on this planet and I go out and do all of those things because this is bigger than me. We got our asses kicked on Titan and the universe paid the price, but for some reason we made it out. Us surviving? You getting home? That’s the closest thing I can think of to a second chance.”

Peter was quiet. The woosh of sand rushing outside of the door filled the silence as Tony let him think. The boy peered back into the pot of the purple vegetable that had started the fight, staring intently at the mush before shaking his head and dropping the spoon in with a dull thud. 

“I just feel so lost,” Peter confessed so quietly that Tony almost didn't catch it. “You go through hell every day for me and...I get it. I’m a kid and you feel responsible. But being the one left behind isn’t easy either.”

“I don’t think it’s–“

“Please,” Peter cut in, his voice louder, more firm. “Let me finish now.”

Tony swallowed his protest and gestured for Peter to continue. 

“It’s been over a year since we’ve been home and everything couldn’t be more different. I'm living on freaking Tatooine.” Peter laughed softly. “And you being here means… so much to me. Seriously. I respect that you’re looking out for me and if we ever get home I’ll never be able to repay you…”

“I’m sensing the but coming.”

“But, even when I was living in a two bedroom apartment in Queens with my aunt, I wasn’t safe all the time. So fine, I won’t ask to join you at the machine shop or for your blessing to go wandering around in the desert every night. I’m just asking for some trust.”

In his gut, Tony knew Peter was right. It didn’t mean he had to like it. He had devoted every waking moment of their journey focused on keeping the boy alive and healthy. It was an exhausting task, one that filled him with crippling anxiety whenever he stopped to consider it for too long, but as a goal-oriented man, the living, breathing evidence that he hadn’t completely failed had saved him in the darkest moments of the year they’d spent stranded. 

The evidence in question was staring at him expectantly, gripping onto the handle of a clunky pot of purple vegetables with white knuckles, surrounded by junk the two of them had accumulated in their time together.

“Okay. Fine.”

Peter’s mouth fell open. His grip falling away from the pot lessened as he leaned into the counter. “Seriously?”

“Seriously," Tony relented, his voice rough with emotion. “ I can try.”

“Because I was pretty sure that wasn’t going to work, like, at all. Oh my god thank you, Mister Stark!”

Tony held up a warning hand and Peter snapped his mouth shut.

“Don’t make me regret it, kid. You can go to the store when I’m gone but that’s it. No galavanting with the locals, no unnecessary wandering, and no going out after dark.”

“Yes sir.” Peter gave a small mock-salute with one hand, already reaching for his spoon with the other. “I won’t let you down.”

Chapter Text

July 2019

Time marched ad infinitum in the sandy plains of G4R-10C, bringing with it more days of grueling labor and endless monotony. Five days at the metal shop followed by one day of recovery. Five days at the metal shop followed by one day of recovery. Five days at the metal shop...and so on.

With Peter out of the house during the day, the nights returned to their usual calm and little moments of peace became more and more frequent. As far as Tony understood, the boy spent the hours when he was away at work researching edible wildlife and combining the findings with affordable ingredients. Peter was noticeably happier and their stomachs were noticeably more full. It worked for them.

The mind-numbing terror that any second the kid spent out of sight was a second he could be somewhere rotting in an alien sinkhole still persisted—It was clear that Peter heavily edited his daily stories and no amount of assurance would guarantee absolute safety—but life went on.

When Peter gleefully greeted him after work one day with the news that he’d successfully haggled with the local shopkeeper using nothing but his wits and a phrase book in the local language, the fear that had kept Tony awake at night mingled with the still unnamed—now very familiar—warmth in his chest.

He couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge the feeling, but knew, deep down, was pride.

_____

They incorporated home into their shared little life in small ways, trading stories from before, as they referred to it, and making easy conversation about their plans for after—when they made it back to New York.

“I’m going to ace astronomy next year,” Peter joked one night over a plate of what Tony thought might’ve been an attempt at mac and cheese. “Mrs. Johnson has to give me bonus points for discovering a new planetary system.”

Tony threw his head back in laughter. The meal and the minimal pain made it easy to enjoy Peter’s banter. “No way your teacher is going to believe that. Ten bucks says she gets you tested for drugs.”

“I don’t see what part of living in a sand hut on a desert planet with Tony Stark, who now dresses like an extra in Indiana Jones by the way, sounds unrealistic to you.”

“Leave my fashion choices out of this. I don’t see you getting any invites to Fashion Week.”

It was one of the good days. It had been a relatively easy week at work and, from what Tony could pick up through the language barrier, their part of the galaxy was in some kind of slow season—though after the great dusting of the universe, everywhere was a slow season—so the pattern was likely to continue.

"Pity invites."

"More than you ever got."

“Whatever,” Peter snorted into his bowl before stage-whispering, “Raiders of the Lost Stark.”

He couldn’t hold it in. A peal of laughter erupted from Tony's chest and he bent over, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, as gasps of hilarity wracked his body. Peter’s light snickers developed into full on cackles, leaving them both clutching at their stomachs, fighting for breath between convulsions.

Tony was fuzzy all over—the cocktail of a full meal, minimal pain, and good company bringing on a feeling of peace he had been a stranger to his entire life. It was rare stolen moments like this that kept the darkness at bay in the desolate outpost they called home.

The laughter subsided, but neither felt compelled to rekindle the conversation, instead focusing on polishing off the remainder of their Not-Quite-Mac-and-Cheese. The noodles were gummy and the smell peculiar, but the sauce somehow managed to capture the essence of cheese despite a complete absence of dairy on the planet.

He caught Peter staring out of the hole in the wall at the desert landscape outside, where the shadows stretched across the dirt into the distance. The usually powder blue sky burned a violent orange and the table where they sat was bathed in the setting glow of both suns, catching fiery streaks of gold in Peter’s sandy hair.

“Looks nice,” he observed.

Peter nodded, still clearly transfixed by the scene.

“What'd ya say we climb up on the roof and watch it?”

Peter jerked his head away from the window. “What?”

“Us.” Tony spoke quickly, as if trying to get the words out of his mouth before his brain took them back. “The roof. Climb it. The sunset. Watch it.”

“Oh.” Peter blinked. “Um.”

“We don’t have to, of course.” He left ‘if we’re not there yet’ unsaid. ”I just figured...if you aren’t going to get extra credit in astronomy for all this trouble, we might as well take in a few of the sights while we’re here.”

“Yeah." Peter ducked his head, the corners of his mouth creeping upward. "I guess we might as well...I just can’t believe it's been nearly a year since we came to this place and we never bothered to watch it.”

Tony shrugged. “Been a bit busy.” 

He pressed both hands to his knees, pushing himself into a standing position as excitement crept in. He crossed the dusty floor to push open the door.

“C’mon, Parker,” he called back, tilting his head back and inhaling the salty air. “Gotta enjoy it while it lasts.”

He let his hands brush against the ragged edges of the hut as he rounded the hut and listened to the swishing of sand beneath his boots.

“You sure you’ll make it up there, old man?” Peter laughed, padding up from behind him.

“I’m in peak physical condition,” Tony flexed his—now wiry from months of manual labor—arms. “I should be the one worried about you pipsqueak. I’m not the one lazing around all day.”

“I have literal super powers.”

“And I don’t?”

Peter shook his head in mock sorrow as they circled around to the rickety ladder against the back of the house. “Don’t make me say it.”

Tony grinned. “Since it's so important to you-” He gestured to the ladder. “-super-humans first.”

“Suit yourself.” Peter stuck out his tongue, shouldering past. He placed his hands on the wall instead and crawled up its side, sticking to the coarse mud.

Tony shook his head indulgently, hoisting himself up before rolling onto the surface of their roof. It was rough, coated with the same material that made up the walls, but his calloused hands barely noticed. He twisted in a seated position and leaned back, eyes shut as the evening air brushed past his skin.

“Oh," Peter breathed. "Wow,” 

Tony cracked an eye open and glanced to the side where Peter was already laying down several feet away gazing upwards at the suns. The kid was transfixed, his mouth hanging slightly ajar and his eyes wide with wonder. Tony let his head roll back onto the dirt to take in the sight that had the kid so amazed. 

"Oh," he echoed. 

The sky was on fire. The setting suns lined up perfectly as if a stage crew set up torches in the horizon. The solar glow illuminated the yellow sand, bringing out countless shimmers across the endless flat surface ahead.

“That’s..." He searched for words to describe what he was seeing. "Wow.”

“I definitely could get extra credit for this one.”

Tony hummed in agreement, unable to look away from the spectacle. The entire planet felt alive in a way it never had before, as if the months they had spent toiling away on the empty plains had only been an underwhelming first act, some precursor to the main event.

They sat for a while, watching spellbound as the colors shifted and the suns sunk lower and lower, until the sky shone a deep magenta and Peter spoke so softly that Tony would’ve thought it was the wind if it hadn’t been such a quiet night.

“You know, sometimes,” he said, “I wake up and forget that I’m not in my old apartment.”

Tony couldn't bring himself to look away from the sunset, but saw Peter shifting in his peripheral vision. “Yeah?”

The boy tugged absently at a loose strand on his pants. “Yeah.”

“Not sure what that comparison says about Queens. I’d hold off on putting that review on the tourism ads.”

He waited, ready to let Peter direct the tone of the conversation. Before space, they hadn’t discussed anything deeper than derivatives and data structures. Even now, they hadn’t yet had a heart to heart not fueled by an argument or imminent death. A touching, sunset-lit conversation between one of the most emotionally constipated people on any planet and a well-traumatized teenager was new territory, but uncharted waters were kind of Tony’s specialty now.

Peter finally shrugged. “Both have their challenges, but both have good parts too.”

Tony sat up straighter. “That's an interesting way of looking at it.” 

“What I’m trying to say is, there are some days when I just…forget where we are and what we’re doing here, but then I see things like this sunset and I think…what is our life?”

“Understandable.”

“And I know that when—if—we get back, I’m never actually going to be able to show my astronomy teacher the constellations we’ve slept under or do a chemistry project on the compounds of this sand, but right now, I’m looking at this incredible sunset and all I can think about is how I’m the only human here to see it.”

“You’re not the only one, kid.”

“I know.”

“But I get what you meant.”

Peter finally looked to the side, his dark, brown eyes reflecting the purple sky. “Thanks.”

“I sometimes still wish I could send the engine schematics to my research team,” Tony continued, “or teach Pepper some words in the language the people use at the shop.”

“I saw a spiky plant growing out of a rock last week and it reminded me of my friend from school, MJ,” Peter volunteered. “Because she likes weird plants, not because she's spiky.”

“There’s this robot at the shop, and last week I pretended it was DUM-E.”

“Okay,” Peter laughed, his breath watery. “That one wins.” 

Tony kept his gaze fixed on the darkening horizon, pretending not to notice as the teen swiped at his eyes. The beginnings of the single giant moon was just visible in the inky sky. Soon, a blanket of glittering stars would cover the night sky and the two would have to go inside to get ready for another day, but for a moment longer, they sat on the dirt roof and enjoyed each other’s company.

“I know we don’t know what’s going on at home,” he said after a while, “but we do know that we’re still here.” 

“Yeah.”

“And here isn’t bad all the time.”

“That’s…true.”

“Maybe one day we can share what we’ve done here, but for now we can just live it.”

“Maybe,” Peter said, pausing. “I think, sometimes, I’m glad it was us that made it.”

“I think, sometimes, I feel the same way.”

August 2019

Life on G4R-10C continued slowly, surely, and relentlessly. As the universe cautiously approached the completion of its second year since the great decimation, more intergalactic visitors trickled back to the small, desert planet.

On the surface, not much changed between Tony and Peter after the rooftop conversation. They exchanged bleary-eyed pleasantries in the morning, went about their respective daily duties during the long hours of sunlight, and maintained a lighthearted banter in the evenings over Peter’s experimental dinners. Much was the same, but both could feel that the bond they shared had tightened, shifting into a solidified partnership forged in the fires at the end of the universe. 

Neither would or could put into words what one meant to the other. Terms like father and son didn’t dare enter their vocabulary, but Tony no longer denied the warm ache that bloomed in his chest at each of Peter’s successes or the sheer terror of losing the kid that kept him up at night, any more than Peter refused to accept how he saw Tony as a steadfast source of mentorship and comfort.

Peter's 18th birthday came around and Tony made an effort to make an event of it, atonement for letting the boy’s 17th pass unnoticed. The day of, he burst through their worn door after a long day of work with a small bundle of paper clutched in his hands.

“August 10th, 6pm Eastern Standard Time,” he announced proudly before the door could even swing shut behind him. “Think fast, kiddo.”

He tossed the package into Peter’s waiting hands and flopped into the chair by his side, hands folded in anticipation.

Peter blinked in surprise and sat down, examining the bundle. His brows knitted in confusion before flying up to his hairline.

“Instant film?” he asked, awestruck. “How?”

“Birthday magic,” Tony waved his fingers as if casting a spell. “Happy eighteenth, Pete.” 

“But…where did you find it?”

Tony shrugged. “You think you’re the only one who goes into town?”

Peter flashed from Tony to the present, seemingly unable to decide which he was more amazed by.

“This is an exact match for my camera…” he observed. “It must’ve cost so much money!”

“Again with the self importance,” Tony said with nonchalance that didn’t match the nerves that bubbled up inside. “The whole budgeting thing might be new to me but I’ve closed business deals worth more than our entire ship. I think I can haggle with a three-eyed shopkeeper.”

Truthfully, he had spent a rather large chunk of their savings on the gift. A choice that he would maybe come to regret later, but he had never given a birthday gift like this before—one so simple and personal. Not to Pepper, not to Rhodey, certainly not to the spider-kid who occasionally showed up around his lab turned space-refugee-companion-protectee. Some voice had whispered to him, urging him to step out of survival mode for just one second and indulge in something as mundane as a small birthday present. 

Sue him.

He waited, unconsciously holding his breath, for Peter to give the verdict.

“You shouldn’t have,” Peter insisted finally, but his fingers traced the edge of the film with reverence, as if it were made of pure vibranium.

Tony exhaled, plastering a grin over his fading concern. A bonus of only keeping the company of a single person for over a year was knowing their tells. This was Peter when he was pleased.

“When we get home, we’re going to need some kind of proof that any of this actually happened," he said firmly. "Now you can show that astronomy teacher exactly where we’ve been and what we’ve done here.”

“Thank you…” Peter whispered, looking as if he were caught somewhere between tears and joy. “Thank you so much, Mister Stark.”

“I’m glad you like it, kiddo. Or should I call you something else now that you’re officially a man?”

“I’m still surprised you could even keep the date in check, grandpa,” Peter grinned widely before a strange look passed over his face. “Wait,” he directed, shooting out of his seat before Tony could continue the banter. “Stay right there.”

He hurried across the room and grabbed his camera from the corner it had been gathering dust in for over a year. With practiced hands, he opened a hatch on the back and shoved the film inside. Rushing across the room he adjusted a knob at the top of the device.

“Say…. best space team ever!” he instructed gleefully, pointing the camera in Tony’s direction. 

“That's a bit of a mouthful,” Tony laughed good-naturedly. “And I don't think saying any of those words will make me look like I’m not currently your hostage.”

“It’s my birthday. Just say it.”

“Hmm…” Tony scratched his beard slowly before feigning exasperation. “Alright, alright. But I want to reiterate that we’re not a space team.”

He dutifully repeated the phrase and tried not to close his eyes when the flash of the camera illuminated his face. Film was precious and he’d meant every word that he’d told Peter. There had to be some record of their life. They couldn’t just fade into oblivion.

The camera made a mechanical chugging noise and spat out a small rectangle that Peter gingerly held between two fingers.

“Now we wait,” he said.

No one spoke for a minute, both staring as shapes and lines began to develop on the film. The resulting product was a blurry and washed out image of Tony Stark in the middle of saying “ever,” looking every bit a man who’d just spent almost two years adrift in space without consistent nutrition or hygiene. Peter stared at it as if it were a priceless artifact on display in a distinguished museum.

“I’ll have you know,” Tony said, forcing himself to look away from the first record of his existence in years. “People pay good money for these shots. I expect a cut of your profits when you sell that to the press.”

“Of course,” Peter assured with mock sincerity. “This will make the Vogue cover for sure.”

Tony couldn't help but glanced back down at the photo. Behind the gaunt cheeks and matted beard, he noticed something new. 

He’d seen many photos of himself in his life—posed at charity galas, drunk at after-parties, walking down the street with Pepper—some good, many he’d rather forget. Even outside of the obvious aesthetic differences, Peter’s photo felt unlike any other. The angle of his shoulders leaning against the rickety chair, the glint in his eye that betrayed the false annoyance at being forced to pose. Of the tens of thousands of photographs of Tony Stark, this one, he privately thought, might be the most real.

April 2020

The 365th day after the loss on Titan, Tony and Peter had been lost in the struggle to get by so far from home, both wishing so fervently for escape that the anniversary passed by just as unceremoniously as Peter’s 17th birthday.

The 729th day began with just as little fanfare on the remote desert plains of G4R-10C. Tony spent the better part of the day bent over an exhaust pipe of a passing tourist’s ship while Peter toiled away with his camera film, arranging and rearranging the small collection of photographs he’d taken on their dusty table. It wasn’t until well into his shift—after stealing away to the half-fixed ship—that Tony happened to glance at the Earth clock and learned the date. He took several steps back in awe, left reeling at the achingly memorable anniversary. The rest of his shift was spent deep in thought wondering just how quickly the time had passed.

Upon returning home in the evening, he solemnly told Peter what he'd realized.

“Oh,” Peter responded casually over a bubbling pot of some local recipe. “Has it really been that long?”

Midway through the subdued meal, Peter picked his head up from his bowl. 

“I think we should do something,” he announced. “For the anniversary.”

Tony cleared his throat, swallowing down the cottony feeling that had been lodged inside all afternoon.

“Anything in mind?”

Peter considered the question for a moment, eyes drifting around the room as if searching for inspiration.

“I want to make a memorial,” he decided. “For the ones who didn’t make it.”

They ended up creating a small makeshift structure of scraps of a wood-like material scrounged from broken furniture, choosing to erect it behind their hut where a jagged rock would protect it from winds. The words Not Forgotten were engraved on the least cracked plank in Peter’s rough handwriting. After securing it in the ground, the two earthlings stood above it, admiring their handiwork as a brilliant double sunset hung in the sky.

“Mind if I say a few words?” Peter said.

Tony clapped his shoulder, squeezing it gently for support. Physical touch was a relatively new addition to their strange, unnamed dynamic, reserved only for times of high emotion and extreme duress, but if there ever was a time to partake, Tony felt that a commemorative speech for the possible death of every person they had ever known was it.

“Go ahead.”

“Okay.” Peter took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself. “Um...I don’t know who’s still out there, but I just wanted to say that...we’re thinking of you back home…and–and I hope that maybe you’re thinking of us too.” He turned to Tony, eyes wide and shining in the dying light, “Anything to add?”

Tony folded both hands in front of him, shifting on his feet as he stared at the makeshift memorial. The sunsets created an atmosphere that he would’ve called otherworldly two years prior, dust floating lazily against the hazy sky like dandelion seeds in a spring meadow. So much had changed in two years: his surroundings, his body, his entire perspective on his place and purpose in the universe. Somehow speaking to the ghosts of their recent past felt more alien than anything he'd experienced in a long time, but the words still came.

“If you’re not still out there,” he began, voice thick, “we’re thinking of you too.”

Peter’s face tightened, but he offered a grimace.

“Thanks for saying it,” he said softly.

"Of course."

“The thought of anyone being gone is just...”

Tony hummed in agreement.

“Even if we never see them again," Peter continued, "I just can’t imagine a world without Aunt May, or Ned, or even the classmates I hated."

"It's funny how priorities change like that."

"I realized tonight, right when you came home and told me the date, that I didn't get to say goodbye to anyone.”

“I’m sure they knew how you feel.”

Peter’s eyes were rimmed red, the flush not helped by the rust-colored light from the sky. He wrung his thin hands, rapidly blinking away tears that never fell.

“What would I even do if we manage get back and they’re all gone?” he whispered.

“You’d live with me,” Tony answered automatically, not realizing how much he meant every word until they'd left his mouth. “And it'd be awful and sad and you would feel like the world was caving in around you at first. Then you'd keep living and doing your best, just like we do here.”

“What if we never do get back?”

It had been a while since Tony had been so painfully reminded of Peter’s youth. His companion did a remarkable job coping with each and every curveball the universe threw their way and never stopped impressing him with his boundless optimism. The rare moment of complete vulnerability was unnerving and made Tony’s heart pound in his ears.

“It’s just a few more months until we can fix the ship and pay our way to Earth, Pete,” he said, ignoring the painful truth that he had no real authority to make such promises. “We’ll get home soon and I promise you that you’re stuck with me.”

Peter stared, frozen in place for a moment, looking hesitant and strained with his lips pressed tightly together Then something broke. Faster than Tony could react, Peter flung his arms around his shoulders. 

The two stood like that for a moment before Tony lifted his arms gently, wrapping his calloused hands around the back of Peter’s curly head and holding him close in the dying sunlight. A small part of Tony thought about the fact that there was probably snot on his shirt, a much larger part couldn’t care less.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “I got you, kid.”

Peter sniffed into Tony’s shirt. “What if there's not even a home to go back to?”

“If that happens," he whispered, "then we make a new one. We have space smarts now and a killer guide book. It might be different than the one we’ve lost, but I know there’s a home for us somewhere in the universe.”

Peter pulled away so Tony could see his face, eyes puffy and still weighed down with sadness, but he thought he sensed a glimmer of hope.

“Somewhere?”

“Anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Peter looked up into the warm night. “I guess we’ll find it out there, eventually.”

“Exactly…” Tony sighed. 

Then he did a double take. 

“Wait, what did you say?”

“We’ll find it out there... eventually?” Peter repeated, eyeing Tony with confusion. “Does that mean something to you?”

Tony shook his head, unable to dislodge the words from his brain. The eerie echo of the last words of the long-dissolved Stephen Strange circling in his head.

You’ll find it out there, eventually.

“Nah,” Tony waved away the concern. “Just… a lot to think about tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s head inside Pete, it’s been a long day.”

Life was still hard, every day a struggle to survive in the dirt hut at the edge of the universe. Then there were those moments—when the golden light hit the dunes just right and when they were able to just sit and be—when Tony couldn’t help but think life wasn’t half bad.

Chapter Text

October 2020

“All I’m saying is,” Peter mumbled through a mouth of green root, “if the sandstorms hold off until next week, we might be able to finish the ventilation shaft repair soon.”

Tony squeezed his dry eyes shut, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m not getting my hopes up. The suns were already clouded by dust particles on my walk home. I give it three days before we have to hunker down.”

They sat at the rickety dinner table nestled snugly against the peeling walls of the hut. The space was lit only by a single flickering lantern resting between their plates. Outside in the hot desert air, the landscape was a sea of deep pitch black, making it feel like the pair of travelers were the only life on the entire planet. 

“Ten credits says we get at least five,” Peter countered, twirling his fork absentmindedly. “According to the Survivor’s Guide, we should have relatively calm weather this time of year.”

“So you’re going by the guidance of 'Farmer’s Almanac: Space Edition' instead of your most trusted companion’s genius intuition?”

“Farmers Almanac ?” Peter scrunched his nose. “Is that some kind of space magazine?”

Tony let his forehead fall into his hands. “Christ, you age me. It’s an Earth thing, you child.”

“Oh…” Peter stared at his plate, mildly amused. “Cool.”

The meal progressed with practiced ease. Peter maintained a steady flow of inane chatter to make up for Tony’s debilitating exhaustion—regaling his captive audience of one with an embellished retelling of his weekly grocery run—while Tony nodded and made impressed noises at all the appropriate places.

The subject of Earth was forgotten. It rarely came up in conversation as of late.

They had fallen into a lull in the conversation when Peter shifted in his seat. The lantern light flickered across his face, casting an eerie glow on his cheekbones and accentuating the new sharpness of his features that Tony often worried came from hunger rather than aging.

“If you did have to close shop for the sandstorm,” he began hopefully, “it would at least mean some time off.”

“Time off means no money.”

“You work too much. Remember that time last year when you were three hours late and I thought you died?”

“That was once, and get your elbows off the table. This is a fine establishment that I won't tarnish with your barnyard behavior.”

Peter grinned, shaking his head indulgently and pointedly ignoring the instructions.

“Thank god I didn’t die back then,” Tony feigned exasperation. “You’d probably be eating off the floor.”

“Would not, and don’t change the subject. I know all your tricks by now.”

“What tricks?”

Peter pointed an accusatory fork across the table. “You only care about table manners when I bring up something you don’t want to talk about.”

“That’s not true.” Tony lied.

“We’re not starving anymore,” Peter pressed. “We can afford to spend a few more weeks here if it means you don’t have to undergo spinal reconstruction the second you set foot in New York.”

“I’m fine,” Tony huffed. “When we make it to New York, I’ll be able to afford all the spinal surgeries in the world.”

That would be something to get used to. After forty years of viewing money as an infinitely renewable resource, it had only taken a single hourly-wage job to turn the illustrious Tony Stark into a penny-pinching cheapskate. 

Peter frowned. “You’ve just been working so much lately.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, kiddo. I can’t help that the shop is getting so much traffic lately.”

“It’s the new governor, you know.”

“What?”

“This planet has a government, Mister Stark," Peter said matter-of-factly, "and the political winds are shifting.” 

“I know we have a government thanks,” Tony scoffed. “And political winds, really? This is G4R-10C, not 1600 Penn.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Anyways, I heard the new guy in charge is a total tyrant.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Heard from who?”

“People,” Peter’s shot back indignantly. 

Tony took another bite, electing not to respond. Just because he had given permission for daily shopping trips, didn’t mean he wanted Peter consorting with the somewhat lawless general population of the planet. 

“The guy who owns the market has been saying that he’s had three inspections in just the past month,” Peter continued.

“Good,” Tony said, pushing down the burning desire to question why Peter was hanging around the local shopkeeper. “God knows this place could use a bit of supervision.”

“Yeah, because you love getting micromanaged,” Peter retorted.

“I’ve been trying not to get us on anyone’s radar and you should be too.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter waved a dismissive hand. “Incognito mode.” 

“I’m serious, Pete.”

The teen stood up from his chair with a loud creak, marching over to the makeshift sink basin with his dish.

“I get it, I get it.” Peter turned on the faucet and stuck his plate under. “Always be careful.”

It was a quiet night, the constant whoosh of wind over desert plains barely above a whisper, so every clatter of cutlery and plate was amplified through the single room of the hut.

“The people at the market also said a shipment was coming in a few days from some place called Sakaar,” Peter continued, scrubbing fiercely at an invisible spot on his plate. “I looked it up in the Guide and apparently it’s where most of the junk from the galaxy gets dumped. I bet we have a good shot at getting some of the last parts we need.”

“That’s great. We can go over the list tomorrow.”

“If we get all the parts, how long do you think the repairs will take before we leave?”

It didn’t escape Tony’s notice that Peter was wiping an already sparkling fork with extreme vigor and a faraway look in his eyes, and that was three Earth mentions in one meal. The closer they came to their long anticipated departure, the more unreal the idea of watching the desert plains and empty lands that had surrounded them for nearly two years fade in the rear view became. 

“A few weeks? A month?” he guessed. “Reasonably within the next two.”

“Guess that means we’ll miss the solar flare season,” Peter sighed. “I heard it’s unforgettable.”

“You sure hear a lot of things,” Tony said shortly, unable to help himself either from the chronic exhaustion or the spike of anxiety that flared up every time he thought of Peter talking to strange aliens alone. “I wasn’t kidding when I said we need to keep a low profile, kiddo. If things are changing around here, we can’t be sure which direction the wind will blow.”

“If we’re leaving so soon, does it really matter?”

Tony swallowed. “Of course it matters.”

“Why?”

“Peter.”

“Okay, fine.” Peter waved the dish rag in surrender. “I won’t talk to anyone in town ever again.”

Tony was quiet for a beat, watching Peter continue to vigorously rub the same fork and trying to shove down his own irritation. He was the adult—the real adult—and he could keep his cool.

“Pete,” he began cautiously, knowing he wouldn’t be able to rest without asking. “Do you…want to stay here longer?”

Peter glanced in Tony’s direction. “What does that even mean?”

Tony got up and crossed the room to stand next to the sink basin where the boy glared at his fork like the cutlery had been the one to suggest he wanted to stay stranded on a desolate wasteland. 

“We’ll have to make at least a few stops before we get to Earth. I’m sure we can squeeze in some sightseeing…especially if I can bank a few more credits with these extended work days.”

“You’re crazy,” Peter insisted, nostrils flaring. “When did I ever say I didn’t want to go back to Earth?”

“I never said you did.”

“Well I do. Just as much as you do.”

“You didn’t say you didn’t want to go back so much as…say everything but it.”

Peter looked affronted, hands gripping the dish rag with enough tightness that Tony was surprised it didn’t tear. “Sure,” he said breezily. “I actually want you to suffer in some scrapyard every day while I sit around in this pile of dirt bored out of my mind waiting for you to come home.”

“I would understand if you have reservations,” Tony said softly, putting a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We’ve been settled here for a while and we don’t know what’s waiting for us out there.”

Peter shrugged away from Tony’s touch. “Yeah, and?”

“And that’s a lot to take.”

"Oh, is it?" Peter snapped.

Tony held his gaze until Peter grimaced, folding in on himself.

“I don’t know, Mister Stark," he said more gently. "It’s complicated.”

“I would be worried for your psychological well-being if you weren’t a little conflicted right now.”

God, he sounded like the old therapist Pepper had made him see. It was times like this when he was forced to reckon with how severely unequipped he was to be guiding another human being through the most formative years of their life.

“I do want to get back to Earth,” Peter repeated. “Really.” 

“But?” Tony pressed. 

“But.” Peter blew out a long breath. “I don’t know.” 

“You sure about that?”

Peter’s expression tightened. “I don’t know! I guess…until we get back, I can still pretend like maybe everyone we love is alive and that they’re all just waiting for us to come home.”

Tony softened. Peter must have finally decided that the fork was clean and slapped it onto the counter with a loud clack.  

“I used up another photo of the film you got me today,” he volunteered, walking over to the corner where a small collection of grainy snapshots of desert dunes and alien objects lay scattered. “I saw this crazy fruit at the market and it was way too many credits to buy but I got a picture with it.”

Tony, long since used to the ever shifting moods of Peter Parker, got up and moved to the teen’s side. Vulnerability wasn’t a foreign concept between them by now, but they got through the tough times by knowing when to let things go. 

“Look,” said Peter. “I used the timer feature on the camera.”

He peered over the boy’s shoulders and observed his latest snapshot. It wasn’t as artistic as some of the others—it was a selfie, really—taken from a low angle and featuring Peter’s shaggy head peering over what seemed to be a prickly orange pear.

“That’s awesome, Pete,” he praised gently. “Love the angles, they really capture your third and fourth chins.”

Peter shoved him playfully and the conversation ebbed back into its usual pace, just the only two humans on the planet enjoying each other’s company by the warm light of a flickering lantern.

_____

Peter would have lost the bet about the sandstorm holding off for a week, a hypothetical victory that Tony couldn’t even relish in as sand whipped and whistled past the creaking windows of the machine shop’s interior garage only three days after the lantern-lit dinner conversation.

The storm had begun creeping in just after he had arrived at work, picking up from dusty gusts to a fully fledged squall by the time he’d finished checking on the latest motor delivery.

His thoughts were muddled with clouds of anxiety as he hammered a metallic rod into a combustion engine, unable to think of anything other than his kid sitting alone back in the hut. The fear was just a side effect of the pesky pull in his chest, the one that only grew stronger as the years went by. It was the same pull that drove Tony to veer off course into deep space and to hammer away for hours on end in a dim scrapyard. 

Peter could take care of himself, of course. He was barely a teenager anymore, nineteen years old and becoming more and more of the young man Tony knew he would soon be as each day passed. The kid was probably tucked away in the loft space of the hut, watching the dust roll across their front yard, safe from the world and holding down the fort while Tony was away. Everything would be fine.

_____

Sparks flew as the final rod slotted into its hole with a satisfying SHINK, and Tony stepped back to admire his handiwork, wiping a drop of sweat from his brow.

“One down, one billion to go,” he muttered, trudging over to the bucket of broken parts and running his fingers along the jagged edges, searching, always searching for the next piece of the next project for the next passerby.

His hands found the piece they were looking for: a thin rubber-like hook. He tugged it out of the pile, immediately spinning around to pick his way across the shop towards a small alcove in the back. 

He passed by several of his co-workers, turning the hook over in his hands thoughtlessly, barely sparing a glance at the multi-colored, tentacle-clad creatures that were bent over their respective projects around the room. His daily tasks varied depending on the number of visitors to the planet, but he hadn’t had to actually think about his work in nearly a year. Every move he made, every twist and turn he took amidst the chaos of the machine shop of G4R-10C was ingrained through rote memorization. 

So when three dull thuds sounded from outside of the rusty doors, Tony nearly didn’t notice the disturbance, making it all the way to the edge of the room before the hush of un-swung hammers and frozen shop workers finally registered.

Everyone was motionless, all eyes trained on the entrance to the shop where the triple knock—now much more audible over the shrieking wind—rang out a second time.

A living being outside? In this storm? Tony marveled. This really is the edge of the universe.

The nearest worker to the entrance finally broke the stillness, creeping over to the doors and pushing them open a crack.

Before anyone could react, a stream of yellow sand poured onto the rough shop floors, pooling up at an impressive pace. The unfortunate door-opener made to quickly shut the gap, but was stopped by an orange blur, hissing and spitting sounds spewing as it fell on top of the small mountain of sand. Though he was over on the far side of the room, Tony took an involuntary step back, now completely pressed against the wall. Just as he was about to reach for a defensive wrench, one of the shop workers spoke, garbling in the local tongue a word that Tony had only recently learned, stopping him in his tracks: Guard

Tony wanted to kick himself. The uniform. It was a member of the new militia that had been patrolling the town and enforcing the new regime the past several months. 

He watched, cautiously relieved and mildly interested as the orange-clothed alien rolled onto its side, still coughing up sand. The worker who had opened the door surged forward, speaking in the planet’s language at a breakneck pace, pulling them into a standing position.

The guard’s response was slower, much more comprehensible than the worker’s, allowing Tony to catch a smattering of words: separated, storm, team. His head tilted toward the exchange, still nestled out of sight in the back alcove. A few more sentences in, he managed to gathered more.

“Checking citizens,” the guard had said. “Keeping order.”

At that, Tony pushed himself into motion, shifting over to the office next to this alcove, not daring to make sudden moves for fear that the attention would be drawn in his direction. 

He crept over to the desk where the shop’s universal translator lay and flipped the switch on, sticking a pod into his ear. It was a cheap piece of crap and its output was crackled and warped, but it could handle two-way conversations just fine. At least it was more comprehensible than his rudimentary knowledge of the regional tongue.

“–should last another twelve hours,” the translator rattled off.

“And you are here because…?” It was the foreman of the worksite, a man with a face older than time and skin the shade of a poorly maintained pool.

“Orders from the governor.”

“What does the governor want with an old machine shop?”

“Nothing.” The outdated translator didn’t do justice to the derision Tony heard from the guard. “We were heading to the plains when the storm hit. My colleagues continued on.”

“Well, come sit. Since we are stuck here there is no use in standing about.”

The pair moved to the center of the shop and Tony grabbed a screw, doing his best attempt at looking busy as he followed along.

“How is business?”

“Good, thanks to the new regulations and increased traffic to our region.”

“Yes.” The guard nodded solemnly. “We must do our part to return to what once was. Things have not been the same since the universe was thinned.”

“My staff was cut almost exactly in half. It’s a miracle what the great governor’s rule has accomplished.”

Tony suppressed a grin. He could almost taste the sycophancy in the air. After years of experience with snivelling yes-men he could’ve easily guessed that his boss was one, but it was another thing to see it in action.

The guard, however, puffed his chest at the praise, oblivious to the groupie-behavior.

“Efforts to rebuild are still continuing, even in the governor's guard.”

“How so?”

“We have been searching for soldiers. The governor has plans to expand his rule to other planets in the system. Land rites for new outposts are being secured as we speak.”

Tony paused his fake work, wariness encroaching on his amusement. The governor had been relatively harmless so far, nothing but the subject of a quick bit of conversation between him and Peter as well as the source of some mysterious quotas that created a few extra hours of work in the shop. This was something else.

“And you hope to find such soldiers among the population of this desolate world?”

“You would be surprised,” the guard countered. “Reports have come in of a being of exceptional ability in this very town.”

Tony was now at full attention, setting down the screw entirely to focus on the exchange. His breath lodged in his chest next to his pounding heart.

“Oh?” the shop-boss questioned.

“Word was received from the market that a local was spotted lifting crates for the shopkeeper. Crates ten times the amount of the being’s size.”

The hairs on Tony’s arm prickled and he stood rooted to his place in the corner, mouth open a fraction.

The boss shook his head. “Impossible.” 

The guard waved a dismissive hand. “We believe the information is the absolute truth. In fact, we had plans to investigate a potential location today for recruitment. Just past the rock formations. I assume my colleagues are still forging their way through the storm now.”

“That is quite-”

Tony never got to know what his boss said. He violently ripped one of the translator pods from his ear, unable to listen to another word. It didn’t matter anyways. He had heard enough. A being of exceptional ability who was spotted helping people in the market, just past the rock formations. If that didn’t fit the bill of one enhanced human child on the planet who happened to be in his care, Tony didn’t know what did.

So much for the kid’s promise.

Tony swiveled to stare out of the porthole window at the end of the shop and saw nothing but a blank sheet of yellow haze. The storm was still in full force. In less than a second, he had made up his mind. The translator was in his pocket and his feet were carrying him towards the back exit, grabbing a spare cloth on the way. It was an even easier choice than the one he had made to turn away from Earth two and a half years before, easier than breathing.

Without wasting another minute, he slipped under the rough cloth and flung himself headfirst into the storm, consequences be damned.

_____

As a child, Tony was told he had been fearless, hurtling head first off of any elevated surface in sight with reckless abandon, leaving an exasperated butler and a trail of overworked nannies in his wake. By the time he set foot on his first college campus at the fresh age of 15, he had felt plenty of experience with fear—of his father, of disappointment, of bullies—the type of fear that felt like squirrels running laps in his stomach and dizzying nausea in his throat. As a grown adult, Tony had felt true, mind-numbing fear several times over: trapped in a cave with a car battery stuck in his chest, flying a nuclear warhead into a wormhole, watching Pepper hooked into the Extremis machines over Aldrich Killian’s monitor, and on Titan when his teammates started crumbling around him.

As he sprinted through the blinding yellow haze, he was overcome by a completely new kind of fear. It felt like a piece of himself was lost in the storm and he was fighting with each sluggish step to get to it before someone else did. 

Two years before, on Contraxia, when he and Peter had been cornered and extorted by the gang of traffickers, he had experienced the fear of being separated from the kid for the first time, but then, he’d been afraid for a child he barely knew. He’d been afraid of the guilt he would have to carry for losing someone else’s child. This time, Tony was choked with the fear of losing his.

He had no right to claim Peter as his own, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t think of any other way to describe his relationship with the boy he had come to associate with laughter and double sunsets and home.

The howling wind filled his ears and if he cracked his eyes open any wider than slivers, grains of sand threatened to blind him completely and the terror that had left him frozen in the past only pushed him harder as he ran through the storm. Tony was grateful—for the first time—for the amount of times he’d had to make the same arduous commute from the machine shop to the hut. He’d once bet Peter twenty credits that he could make the journey blindfolded and wished desperately to be able to cash in. Anything but the alternative. 

With each meter won against the storm, he felt the searing in his chest sharpen. How much longer could he go before succumbing to the rage of nature? Would his body be discovered months later beneath a mountain of the dreaded sand? If Peter was gone, did he even care?

Just when his shaking legs threatened to buckle entirely, he spotted something—a dark smudge—against the rusty haze of his surroundings. A spike of adrenaline shooting through his body.

“Pet-” he dared to shout, but his mouth caught a wave of sand before he could finish.

The smudge shrunk in the distance and Tony surged forward, praying with each step that it was his boy. If his calculations were correct, he was mere meters from the hut, so close to shelter. It was highly possible that Peter had left to try and find him in the storm, a transgression Tony would happily scold him for once ensuring their safety. 

Another, much larger smudge that Tony joyfully recognized as home materialized amidst the sand. He staggered towards it, heaving into the cloth as he watched the smaller smudge disappear into the hut. With a final push, he flung himself across the threshold and through the entrance, slamming the rickety door behind. 

The shriek of the wind was softer, quieted by the thick, earthy walls. Tony hunched over, gasping for air and spitting sand particles from his mouth. Until he caught sight of the wide, unfamiliar boots in front of him. He straightened as if struck by lightning and saw it: Not only was the figure he’d followed not Peter, but Peter wasn’t anywhere in the hut. The intruder was another orange-clad member of the governor's guard glaring straight at him.

“Identify yourself,” the guard commanded.

Tony staggered back several paces, squinting for a second at the familiar—though mechanical—words. His hand slipped into his pocket as his brain raced a mile a minute...the translator. He still had one earpod in. A small relief to not have to worry about rusty linguistics when the walls of his life were crumbling to nothing, but he would take what he could get.

“T’ny.” He cleared his throat, steeling himself for whatever was to come. “Tony Stark.”

“Where are you from?”

“Earth… sorry.. Terra,” he answered, still hoarse, his eyes darting around the room, searching for any evidence that Peter could have left behind.

The guard advanced and Tony took another instinctual step back, nearly hitting the table pushed against the wall.

“Do not move,” the guard instructed.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered, forcing himself to remain rooted when everything inside of him was screaming to bolt back into the storm. He wouldn’t do any good to Peter from the inside of an alien prison.

The guard procured a shiny device from his orange uniform and held it up to Tony. Several seconds of pinging later, the guard narrowed his eyes and glanced back up, clearly scrutinizing something about his captive.

“Do you live alone?”

Tony opened and closed his mouth several times, mind racing. Was it better to lie and risk getting caught? Or tell the truth and reveal the home base of one of the governor’s prime targets.

“Yes,” he coughed. “It’s just me.”

Keep the kid out of it, at all costs.

More intense stares followed. Then the guard tilted his head predatorily, a small smile stretching across his mouth, revealing two sharp teeth that sent a spiral of worry into the pit of Tony's stomach.

“A lot of furniture for only one person.”

Tony shrugged, praying the guard was dumber than he looked, that the terror he felt wasn't as obvious as he suspected it was. “I have friends.”

The guard studied him for a moment—peering into his face like a fortune teller at a carnival before flashing his gaze towards the kitchen.

“Stay,” came the sharp order.

Tony didn’t breathe, barely dared to think, as the guard sprawled across the small room and came to a halt near the rundown countertops. His long fingers shot out and snatched a shiny, thin piece of paper and held it up so Tony could see the grinning face of Peter Parker proudly holding a prickly orange pear in the marketplace.

“It seems you have at least one friend,” the guard gloated, grabbing several more photos, brandishing the near indisputable evidence of another habitant of the hut as he strutted back into the living space. "And this friend appears to come here quite often."

“I-I…” Tony floundered. Oh god…he whimpered internally, you’ve really done it now, moron.

“I suppose we will have to wait here for your friend to come back. I’m sure one can’t stay away long with weather like this.”

Tony listened to the storm rage and mournfully wondered if it was a good or bad thing that the guard was right. What good could he do against an armed being from another world with the might of an entire planet behind him? 

'You’re still Tony Stark,' a brave, young voice whispered furiously from the back of his mind 

Keep him talking. Stall.

“Fine,” he snapped, gripping onto the edge of the table in an effort to appear more stable. “We can wait. What do you want with the kid anyways?”

The guard blinked, once, twice. “None of your business.”

Tony’s eyes bore holes in Peter’s photos, still resting between the guard’s grasp, and fantasized about ripping them from his spindly hands. The kid was so proud of those pictures.

“You can have him.” He raised both hands in surrender, stepping forward as boldy as his racing heart would allow. “I just want to know how much I’m missing out on."

"What?"

"Was hoping to get a fair price, you know?”

“Oh.” The guard almost seemed disappointed that Tony had caved so easily. “I’m sure we could find some way of compensation.”

“Is he worth a lot?” The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

“To be determined.”

“What determines it?”

“I’m sure the enhanced being will be put through rigorous testing to attain a proper diagnosis of his skill set.”

“And what skills are in demand right now?”

The guard narrowed his eyes. “If you were planning on selling the enhanced, I would think it would be your business to know.”

“Humor me,” Tony shot back flippantly.

The glare sharpened into something more deadly. “I need to tell you nothing. You are nothing .”

Tony shifted backwards against the table. His hand brushed against something solid and heavy—a part Peter had scrounged for the ship—and he instinctively wrapped his fingers around it. Just in case.

“If we’re really stuck here together–”

“We will wait in silence,” the guard growled.

“It’s just that–” Tony tried, fist clenched on the spare part.

“No.”

“I really–”

The guard surged forward, fist raised and eyes blazing. “Silence!” 

Tony reacted, swinging his arm in a smooth arc where it connected to the center of his target’s chest. It made a thwack that would’ve been satisfying had his ears not been so filled by rushing blood and furious storm. The guard careened backwards and he struck again, slamming his makeshift weapon into his captor’s face with as much force as he could muster. The guard teetered and made grabbing gestures in Tony’s direction. 

Taking advantage of the confusion, Tony ran to the kitchen space and snatched the dull knife Peter used for cooking, dropping the ship part on the counter. There was only one way out of this. The governor wouldn’t stand for a common mechanic defying a member of the guard. His assailant was fumbling for his belt when he rushed back in, but Tony acted first, getting as close as possible before gripping the knife and driving it forward, directly into his chest. He watched, heaving from the effort, as the guard’s mouth fell open and a trickle of white liquid poured out.

His victim looked down at his chest where the knife handle still remained lodged and swayed for a moment—shock written plainly on his terrible face—before falling to the dusty floor where he remained absolutely still.

Tony bent over gasping for air, hands pressed against his knees as the adrenaline still coursing through his body shouted to keep fighting, to take on the next enemy. He lifted his head a fraction to make sure the guard wasn’t stirring and caught the shine of a square of white rimmed paper. A goofy smile frozen in time stared back at him. Peter. He shot up, eyes tearing around the room as reality sank in. He’d just killed—or at the very least severely injured—a member of this planet’s law enforcement. Even if Peter wasn’t desirable #1 for the governor’s army, Tony was certainly a fugitive now. 

Take it one issue at a time.

The guard’s body. Problem number one.

The body, the search, the storm, the kid, his mind swirled with the mountain of his newfound concerns.

“Think, think, think!” he hissed to the empty room, clutching at his head.

He began pacing frantically, muttering nonsense as he battled between each impossible challenge. The storm, search, and kid were factors mostly out of his control at the moment, so he pushed them to the side for the time being, choosing to focus on the body of the guard that lay still in the dust. He knew that he needed to dispose of it quickly, giving him as much plausible deniability as possible. 

The storm, he came to a skidding halt mid-pace. The storm was changing the entire landscape of the planet, dumping tons of sand each hour. Surely it would cover a single human-sized body.

Not wasting a single second, he rushed to the guard’s feet, bending down to grab the boot-clad toes and beginning to pull. With plenty of grunts and moans, he dragged the body toward the door. After a final steadying breath, he dropped the legs and swung the door open, squeezing his eyes shut as a wave of sand particles slammed in.

“Come on,” he groaned through gritted teeth, yanking the body over the threshold and fully into the hostile outdoors. 

Several meters in, his lungs protested enough to make him drop the body. It would have to do. He stumbled back to the hut and tumbled back inside, gasping for breath as he sank to the floor. 

“Shd’ve wrapped up,” he mumbled, spitting out a chunk of dirt. “Stupid.”

With a shake of his head, Tony snapped back into focus, picking himself off of the ground and bracing himself against a cracked wall as he continued to catch his breath.

Problem one down. The governor’s search for Peter would have to hold off until the storm subsided, making it less urgent than the other problems. That left the storm and Peter. The storm was out of his control, more of a hurdle than something to fix. That left Peter. 

Tony wrung his hands. That stupid boy. How could he protect his kid from the might of an entire planet? Taking out a single guard had left him near cardiac arrest. On top of that, the question he had kept at bay to avoid fully snapping—where the hell was the kid?

He can’t be far, he reasoned. He’s out there somewhere.

He walked over to Peter’s precious photos that had been scattered across the floor, gingerly picking up one and staring into his own surly expression. It had been the kid’s very first shot. Back when they talked about Earth every day and fought about leaving the house just as much. Lately, it felt like they had been regressing back to that.

You don’t have time for rumination, he agonized. You have to get out of this damn house.

It was as if the simple thought unlocked the floodgates of imagination. All of a sudden, the solution to his problems couldn’t have been clearer. The entire time they’d been on G4R-10C, they had been working towards one thing—leaving. 

“Well,” He whispered to the picture of himself. “Guess it’s time.”

Brimming, with resolve, anticipation, and terror, he set the photo down. They would have to leave G4R-10C, but not to return to Earth. It was too soon and the ship wasn’t ready and they couldn’t go back to the shop anyways. Ships came and went from the planet every day. They would have to get on one and go wherever the stars took them. 

With his mind made up and a plan forming in his brain, Tony launched into action. 

Get the stuff. Find the kid. Get out. 

Chapter Text

October 2020

Tony rushed around the single room of the dusty hut with more vigor than the storm raging just outside of the thin door. He had unearthed a greying, sturdy-enough bag from the sleeping loft and started tossing in any item within eyesight he deemed a necessity, unable to gather enough focus for any measure of organization.

A pack of dried fruit lay half eaten on a bare shelf and he snatched it up, flinging it into the bag with unnecessary force before sprinting over to another corner where he knelt in front of the meager pile of all of the clothing he and Peter had amassed in over two years of travel.

A faded shirt from the local market lay on top—Peter’s. Tony let the fabric rub against his finger’s and swallowed back the lump in his throat. He could almost hear the kid laughing about how the fashion trends in space weren’t any weirder than in New York City. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking the reminder of the missing boy from his brain.

“Focus,” he muttered, folding the shirt and gingerly setting it on top of the bag.

His entire plan of escape hinged on finding Peter the second he finished gathering their things which meant time was of the absolute essence. If he couldn’t find the kid…

Discarding a sock that was torn to the point of ruin, Tony shoved the remainder of Peter’s clothes in the bag before moving on to his tools.

“Wrenches? Wiring?” he deliberated before shaking his head. “Screw it.”

Both went into the bag.

He passed their wobbly dinner table, where the yellowing pages of the Survivor’s Guide were illuminated by a dim lantern. The corners of his mouth lifted indulgently. Surely the guide would prove useful wherever they ended up next. He grabbed the book off of the tabletop and dropped it in the bag.

Before he could decide between a mound of crusty batteries and a battered mallet, a soft scratching came from the entrance to the hut, followed by the eerie creaking of the door hinges.

He spun around to catch the hut door swing open.

A howling gust of wind blew through the room, bringing with it a mountain of sand and a figure completely covered by dust-laden rags. The figure muttered something muffled by the cloth and stumbled forward, grabbing at his face covering and ripping it down to reveal a flushed, familiar young face.

Tony’s jaw went slack.

“Kid?” he whispered.

A very dirty, very alive Peter Parker picked his head up, eyes wide and hair sticking haphazardly to his forehead. 

Tony surged forward. Without a second thought, he flung his arms around Peter’s shaking shoulders and squeezed, relishing in the beating heart and living warmth. He held him there for a moment, thanking whatever cosmic forces there might be for this one shining bit of precious luck.

“You’re okay,” Peter managed to choke out from where his face was pressed into Tony’s chest.

“I’m okay?” Tony said, pulling away. “What the hell, Peter! Where in the entire goddamn galaxy were you?”

“Looking for you,” Peter said, heavy with indignation despite trailing off into a fit of coughs. He grabbed onto the nearby chair and sank into it before speaking again, his voice rough from his journey outdoors. “That storm was getting kind of bad.”

Tony stared at Peter, mouth agape as the boy coughed up another glob of sand. He’d hypothesized as much in his packing frenzy, but something about being told directly that the kid had risked his life to find him in a storm left him floundering.

“Kind of bad?” he echoed.

Peter shrunk back into his chair. “Okay, I know what you’re about to say, but let me just-”

“I was at work! Inside!” Tony recovered quickly, holding up a firm hand. “Never mind that. Honestly Pete, right now I don’t care if you went out there to pick daisies for a chain necklace.”

Peter stared back, dumfounded. “Who are you and what have you done with Tony Stark?”

Tony wanted nothing more than to continue joking, to jump into the easy banter he and Peter did so well, but they didn’t have the time.

“Kid,” he began hesitantly, unsure of how to say what needed to be said.

Peter, ever quick on the uptake, dropped his joking manner.

“Yeah?” the boy said, leaning forward.

“We…have to leave.”

The lines of confusion on Peter’s face deepend and he shifted in his seat. “Sorry, what?”

“We’re leaving this place, this planet. We-we have to go.”

“Why?”

“The governor’s guard-” Tony hurried over to the packed pile of supplies. “-they found us. They found you. One of them was at the shop, talking about recruiting and how someone spotted you at the market. I came home and one of them was here .” He gestured wildly to the ransacked room.

The horror on Peter’s face only grew more intense as the explanation continued. 

“I took care of him,” Tony explained, picking up one of his packed bags and slinging it over his shoulder, “but who knows how quickly others can get here? The storm can’t last much longer and we cannot be here when it ends.”

For the first time, Peter’s eyes swept across the hut, taking in the disarray and bare shelves. 

“We’re leaving… right now,” he said slowly, a look of understanding dawning on his face.

Tony jerked his head towards the second bag. “I packed while you were gone. It’s still pretty rough out there. If we wrap our faces and power through we can get to the shipyard within a half hour.”

“B-but… the ship?" Peter stuttered. "We almost had it fixed.”

It was as if the kid knew exactly what was happening but couldn’t bring himself to accept it. Tony sighed, a deep and tired breath that came from the depths of his soul, picking up the second bag and putting it in Peter’s frozen hands.

“There’s no time for the ship, kid. We have to go, now.”

“Go?" Peter's face contorted. "Where can we possibly go?”

“The shipyard.” Tony grabbed Peter's shoulders and steered him towards the door. “And after that, anywhere but here. We can ride out on one of the junker ships. I’ve seen people do it before. Come on, Peter! There’s no time for this.”

He had successfully gotten them to the doorframe when Peter pushed back, dropping the bag Tony had given him and putting both of his hands out.

“STOP!” 

“Keep it down,” Tony hissed, eyes darting to the door where he was sure that soldiers would materialize in the entryway. He continued more gently. “I know this is a lot, but we need to be gone as soon as physically possible.”

Panic was heavy in Peter’s voice. “What about our house? What about Earth?”

The noise of the wind had died down a little, a sure sign that the storm was already coming to an end, but he wouldn’t rest until they were well out of the planet’s atmosphere.

“What part of 'They are coming for you'  don’t you understand?”

Peter stared at a small pile of sand on the floor with furrowed brows, chest rising and falling erratically.

“They'll take you away, Peter,” Tony pleaded, reaching out to rest a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Somewhere I won’t be able to get to you.” His arm shook, but he spoke with as steady a tone as he could muster. “I know this is a lot, kid. I know things were finally looking good for us and I’m so sorry, but right now we have to go.”

Peter lifted his head up. Tony knew from the set of his jaw and the resolve in his eyes, that the boy had made up his mind. Tony also knew, whatever decision he had come to, they would both have to live with it. He didn’t have the strength to physically force Peter from the hut, but wherever his kid went, he would follow.

Peter bent down and picked up the leather strap, slinging it over his shoulder.

“I’ll carry the heavy bag,” he said. "You take the other one."

Tony’s shoulders sagged. “Thank you.”

Peter took the ragged cloth around his shoulders and wrapped it around his head, leaving only a small slit exposing his determined eyes.

“I think part of me always knew it was going to end like this,” he said, his voice small beneath all of the layers. “Let’s go.”

_____

Home had always been an elusive concept to Tony. He'd had grown up with more houses than he could remember and the number hadn’t exactly shrunk as he aged. So why did leaving a single room shack he’d spent an objectively terrible two years in make him feel so much? What was it that he was finding out in these depressing places?

The storm had receded in the time since Tony had last stumbled through the sheets of pelting sand. As the pair ran across the barren plains of G4R-10C for the last time, an orange mist cloud hovered just above the ground, giving a few meters of visibility in each direction.

Tony glanced over his shoulder to take a final look as their hut disappeared in the haze, but otherwise didn't take a pause to appreciate the end of an extremely brutal but memorable era in his life. He pushed any rising emotions down, thinking of nothing but the unknown destination ahead and the pounding of his boots against the yellow sand. Soon, the silhouettes of several buildings appeared against the thinning fog.

He motioned for Peter to slow down and fall in step and they forged on, treading along the unpaved road, neither daring to make a noise. Both were fully aware that the very people they were running from could be patrolling the streets, ready to snatch them at the slightest sound. Luckily, the town’s few inhabitants appeared to still be sheltering from the storm and they remained unseen.

From countless deliveries of fixed ships over his two year tenure at the machine shop, Tony knew that the town’s launch site was the final building in the row. Even with the limited visibility, he recognized the spot when they reached its ramshackle doors. He signaled their arrival and swung the doors open, shoving Peter inside.

A single employee—a small being with pointed ears and scale-covered skin that he had infrequently interacted with—sat looking incredibly bored behind a grimy desk. She barely acknowledged the two as they clambered inside.

Tony reached into his coat to turn on the translator. “Hello.”

The attendant looked up but didn’t respond.

“We’re looking for passage out of this planetary system,” he continued. “To anywhere, just quickly.”

The worker regarded them for a moment longer. “400 credits,” she finally said, her mask of indifference unbroken. “A junker ship leaves for Sakaar very soon.”

“Sakaar?” Peter repeated.

“We send our scrap metal there,” Tony whispered, “and they send us rare parts.”

“I know what Sakaar is,” Peter said, sounding offended. “I’ve read about it. I’ve also read that it’s a six month journey away from Earth.”

Oh.

“This outgoing ship could possibly make it in four with minimal cargo,” the attendant added impassively.

A chill spread through Tony’s body despite all the running. It was as if an anvil had fallen from the sky and flattened him into the ground.

Peter's hesitancy suddenly made a sick amount of sense. Even a four month journey past G4R-10C put them so far from Earth, they might never afford the journey back. A distance of that magnitude meant that, if they chose to flee the deserts of the remote outpost planet they’d called home for two years, it was as good as throwing any chances of a return home out the window.

“Pete,” he began, voice thick.

Peter looked back at him and it only hurt even more. There was no accusation in his sad eyes, no anger in the kid's clenched jaw. “Yeah?”

“What do you think?”

“I–I don’t know,” Peter answered earnestly.

"That's okay, but-"

“I’ll back whatever call you make.”

The deja vu was sickening. Multiple years and millions of miles of travel only lead him back to the same decision: risk their lives or risk their chances of returning home.

He looked at his kid again and saw the same turmoil he was sure was written on his own face.

It struck him, for the first time, how different Peter looked from when they had first been set adrift. The face staring back at him wasn’t the face of the sixteen year old boy he had journeyed into space for. This was the face of the nineteen year old young man he would lay down his life for, the young man he had watched grow up and was about to ask to leave behind everything.

“I," he began, pausing to take a deep breath, to steady himself for the decision he was about to make, "think we have to take it. I’m so sorry.”

“Okay,” said Peter, still sounding so young, so trusting despite all he’d grown. "Let's go then."

“If there is any way—any way at all—that I can get us back to Earth,” Tony swore, “I’ll do it.”

”I know, Mister Stark. We’re in this together."

"Always," Tony choked out, hating how final always sounded. A lifetime flashed in front of his eyes: Peter graduating high school, college, getting married, becoming a father. None of it would ever happen now. 

"We’re a space team, aren’t we?” Peter added playfully, though the lightness didn't quite meet his eyes. “Like in Gravity?”

Even when faced with the potential loss of his entire life, of course Peter was still making movie references. As if Tony couldn’t love the kid any more.

“Sure kid.” Tony let out a watery laugh. “But how ‘bout we both be Sandra Bullock in this version? Let’s both live to the end of the movie.”

“I like the sound of that.” Peter nodded. “Screw Gravity....the movie, not the universal force of attraction.”

A not so small part of Tony wanted to break down in tears, an even less small part wanted to wrap the boy in another hug.

”Never saw it anyways.” He said instead, waving a dismissive hand. “Maybe we can be like Star Wars. They all got a pretty good ending out in space.”

Peter chuckled softly. “You never saw the new sequels did you?” He looked thoughtfully for a pause. “How about we just be Mister Stark and Peter.”

“Got it,” he affirmed, patting a hand on Peter’s shoulder, wondering if he still had sand from the storm lodged in the back of his throat. That damn kid.

They turned back to the desk where the attendant was still waiting, unmoved by the emotional exchange.

“How soon is very soon?” Tony asked, already reaching for his pockets. 

He knew the attendant was scamming them and he knew that 400 credits would seriously deplete their cash reserves, but it was the only option they were going to get and the alternative was unfathomable.

“The engines are starting right now,” she replied. “I can take you there whenever you’re ready.”

“Sounds good to me.” He shoved his credit bar forward and let the funds drain. It hurt to watch the product of months of hard work disappear in an instant, but they wouldn’t have any use for the money dead.

The attendant broke her apathy as the charge went through, smiling weakly as she stood. “I will take you there now.”

She made her way to the side door that Tony knew led to the launch pad. He gestured for Peter to follow and they allowed themselves to be escorted into the next room.

The launch space resembled a small airplane hangar and only one massive, rusted ship sat at the center. The engines were already roaring and the shipyard attendant rapped on the hull of the ship sharply and a hatch fell open, revealing a small room, crammed with various junk from the planet, ready to be deposited on Sakaar.

“Get in,” she instructed. “I will tell the pilot about you and you will leave shortly.”

Tony and Peter followed the directions, climbing inside the hull. Tony turned to ask the attendant if there were any further instructions, but she was already walking away, the door to the hull sliding shut behind her, leaving them alone in the shadows of a strange ship. No turning back now.

_____

The window of the junker ship was much smaller than the floor-to-ceiling cockpit windows of the ship that had carried Tony and Peter to G4R-10C, but Tony still managed to catch a glimpse of the dusty yellow planet disappearing beneath them. 

The two refugees sat in fearful silence, huddled between a rusted bike-like contraption and an oozing bucket of some sort of slime that he prayed wasn’t toxic. He made sure to place Peter on the other side, just in case.

The junker ship was much louder than the home they’d left behind, where empty plains stretched on for miles and the closest neighbor was a lengthy trek away. From the grimy metal hull, Tony could hear stomping above their heads followed by muffled orders shouted to the apparent crew members. It wasn’t the most pleasant environment, but he’d long since gotten used to coping with subpar conditions.

He squeezed tightly on Peter’s arm, a wordless “you okay” that was answered with a slight nod. Peter hadn’t spoken a word since entering the ship, Tony wasn’t sure if it was a delayed protest against their departure or a fair reaction to yet another traumatic experience. Another traumatic experience Tony had put him in.

Watching their home of two years shrink in the distance along with their chances of ever seeing Earth again hurt Tony more than he thought possible. Many a night had been spent dreaming of the way G4R-10C would look as it shrunk in their rear, but never had he planned to leave like this.They were so close to fixing and boarding the ship with the unknown name, getting back to their home planet, or whatever was left of it, and moving on with life.

In the darkness, Tony couldn’t help but spare a thought for May Parker. Was she out there somewhere mourning her nephew? Would she thank Tony for keeping her child alive or slap him silly for thinking even for a second that he could give her boy anything other than pain and suffering. If May was alive on Earth, she could live her entire life without knowing her boy was still out there, becoming more of a man with each passing day.

Earlier, Tony had imagined a supercut of the life Peter would now likely never live. As he curled up listening to the creaks and groans of machinery, he caught flashes of a different future: Tony and Peter walking through the streets of a strange alien city, Tony and Peter building a home together, Tony and Peter sat under the stars as the universe stretched out before them.

The hope that tinted each image felt like a betrayal, but he couldn’t shake the warm feeling that carving out a space for himself and his kid in the vast expanse of space gave him. It felt like such a long way from the deep pit that had used to form in his stomach whenever he looked at the night sky. 

You’ll find it out there, eventually.

Those words.

Tony’s breath hitched, hidden by the hissing of an exposed pipe. The whispered words that had been delivered by Stephen Strange on his deathbed hadn’t followed him much throughout the years. He’d heard them echoed by Peter once at their makeshift memorial, but daily life on G4R-10C hadn't left much time for rumination.

Now, Tony felt he was finally beginning to understand what the odd doctor might have meant all those years ago.

Maybe the man had seen that the two survivors would never return to Earth. Perhaps his final words were his way of giving his blessing for Tony to have his second chance at truly finding a home with Peter.

Once the thought entered his mind, he couldn’t help but think it was always heading that way. He thought about Earth less and less and saw his family as just himself and Peter more often than not. If they were truly destined to never make it back to the little blue planet, maybe it was time to finally say goodbye.

Tony wrapped both arms around his knees and listened to the sounds of what would be their new home for the following months wash over him. He shut his eyes and, in the fashion of a prayer, sent a goodbye to his past life.

Goodbye Pepper, he thought, I’ll never know if we could’ve had baby Morgan, but I found myself a kid out here and I think he’s pretty great.

Some sort of mystery liquid dripped in the shadows.

Goodbye Rhodey. I know you’ve always looked out for me but I think I’ve got this one.

The voice of the ship crew came from above.

Bye Nat, Steve, Bruce… everyone. Sorry we never quite made it work.

Peter shifted at his side, murmuring in the way that Tony knew meant he was drifting off to sleep.

I’m sorry, May, was his final farewell. I’ll do the best I can for the kid. I’ll love him like he was my own.

April 2021

The 1095th day after the end of the world passed with minimal fanfare across the universe. 

On Earth, where the 365 day calendar had meaning, people commemorated the occasion by gathering with whatever loved ones remained for quiet reflection and mourning before going back to daily life, the power of normalcy proving an unstoppable force after even the most devastating of losses.

For Tony Stark and Peter Parker, the third anniversary of the battle on Titan came and went entirely unnoticed. 

Several weeks into the journey to Sakaar, they had realized that leaving behind their ship meant leaving behind their means of tracking the date and time on Earth. Following the discovery, Peter hadn’t spoken for a while and Tony laid in bed for far too long, staring listlessly at the rusted ceiling of the ship that was both their salvation and prison. 

But time kept moving on, even without being measured. Just like those on Earth the wounds had begun healing and an acceptance of the unchangeable settled in to take their place. The pair slowly got to know the crew members—a surprisingly friendly bunch—and spent most of the journey planning their new life. 

_____

Unbeknownst to Tony and Peter, the anniversary of the decimation coincided with the day they caught their very first glimpse of Sakaar. 

The announcement had come in the middle of a cutthroat game of paper football with a couple of the crew members.

“All crew to landing stations,” the pilot had announced.

Peter, who had just scored a particularly tricky shot, was mid-celebration and froze with his hands in the air, looking immediately to Tony. They shared a brief, wordless exchange and Peter dropped his hands, padding over to Tony’s side.

“We’re finally doing this,” Peter said solemnly.

Tony patted the boy’s shoulder and nodded. “We’re still together.”

He glanced out of the starboard window and saw a pale blue planet wrapped in tendrils of what he knew from crew members stories were tall buildings and garbage heaps. Privately, he thought if he couldn’t go back to New York, this might be the next best thing.

Here’s to finding it out there, he thought. I hope you’re right, Strange .

Chapter Text

????

“I can’t believe we almost forgot about the book.”

“I can’t believe you’re not watching where you’re going.” 

Tony grabbed Peter’s arm and steered him carefully through the throngs of Sakaaran citizens, all bustling about their business on the streets of the restless, intergalactic city. He noticed with a start that the boy was nearly the same height as him. When had that happened? 

Peter allowed himself to be maneuvered with nothing more than a noncommittal grunt, his eyes remaining glued to the worn pages of the Survivors Guide like they were somehow more interesting than the intergalactic menagerie around them. 

The pair of travellers had been dropped off at one of the sanitation centers with instructions to return after the unloading of cargo was complete for further information on jobs and lodging so with little to do for the next several hours, Tony and Peter had decided to explore the tangle of streets that would be their home for the foreseeable future.

_____

In their journeys, Tony had developed a special appreciation for the feeling of setting foot on a new planet for the first time. The thrill of hearing new tongues and seeing fascinating people and places was a delicious reward after weeks of monotonous space flight. Sakaar, he was finding, was no exception.

The city was a true menagerie of sights, sounds, and smells. The walls of each towering building were a different gaudy color and they jutted out senselessly, as if designed by a kindergartener with an advanced degree in architecture. Their oddity was rivaled only by the jumbled eccentricity of the city’s citizens, who strutted about in an assortment of colorful cloaks and headpieces while chattering and working and playing.

“Sakaar,” Peter read aloud theatrically as Tony dragged him along an alleyway past a pile of smoking scrap metal. “Surrounded by cosmic gateways, Sakaar lives on the edge of the known and unknown. It is the collection point for all lost and unloved thi–Hey! You’re in the book, Mister Stark!”

“Rude.” Tony snorted. “Keep reading.”

“Sakaar is an artificial waste planet created by the Grandmaster in the Tayo star system,” Peter continued, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “This next part is great. It says that the whole planet is surrounded by wormholes that deposit space waste.”

“Lovely.” Tony wrinkled his nose. “Still not the worst place we’ve been.”

Peter hummed again in agreement, not taking his eyes from the page. 

“Oh that’s weird. It says here that time runs differently in Sakaar,” he shared, pressing a finger onto a spot in the book.

Tony nearly stopped in his tracks to get a look at the page. Sky trash he could handle, the laws of physics were something else. “What does that even mean?” 

Peter glanced up just in time to dodge a fast-walking couple carrying a drooling, snarling blob of what Tony assumed was some kind of pet. They pressed against a seafoam colored wall to avoid being swept up by the foot traffic.

“Hey!” Peter hissed, clutching the book against his chest. “What was that for, you jerk?”

“I said to watch where you were going.”

“Don’t need to. That’s why you’re here.”

“Very cute, but what the hell does ‘time runs differently in Sakaar’ mean?”

Peter shrugged, looking back down at the Guide. “I don’t know. That's just what it says in the book.”

Tony snatched the book, ignoring Peter’s halfhearted protests. He scanned the page, stopping at the section on time where, sure enough, the words “Time runs differently in Sakaar” were printed boldly in black and white letters.

“That’s...bizarre.” He frowned, passing the book back to Peter. “So no clocks then?”

“Guess not.”

Tony gestured for him to continue.

Peter leaned casually into the wall and opened the guide back to his page. “Sakaar is infamously known for being a place where individuals from across the galaxy find themselves stranded from their respective homeworlds and…yikes…are forced to compete in the Contest of Champions.”

“What the hell is that?!” 

Tony was glad they had stepped out of the crowds because he was sure that he would’ve caused a traffic jam had he been in the middle of the street.

“Oh, I actually know this one,” Peter answered with far too much nonchalance for Tony’s liking. “I think it’s like a gladiator-style competition.

“Dare I ask how you know this?”

“I heard one of the guys on the crew mention it a while back.”

“And you didn’t think this was information I needed to know before we chose to live here?” Tony spluttered.

“ Definitely not,” Peter scoffed. “We didn’t choose to live anywhere and you worry too much.”

“Someone has to!” Several heads turned in their direction, forcing Tony to continue in a lower voice. “Peter, this is the kind of stuff I need to know. We can’t live on some battle-royale death planet.”

“I talked to the guy about it.” Peter spread his hands in mock surrender, “He said they haven’t done it since right before the dusting. Something about a revolution led by a rock? The details are unclear. Anyways, according to him they only took people who got dumped in the outskirts. If they decide to restart the contest, you and I should be safe in the city.”

Tony regarded the boy warily, resting a hand on his chest where his heart pounded and his paternal instincts screeched to run.

“Forgive me if I’m not convinced.”

Peter sighed. “I hate the thought of killing just as much as you do, Mister Stark. Maybe more.”

“I know.”

“And we can’t leave here, anyways,” Peter reminded.

“I know that too.”

“We can always check out the old arena if it makes you feel better. The map I saw showed that it was pretty close by.”

Tony knew deep down that there was no turning back from Sakaar. It had been a stroke of lottery-level luck that they had managed to get off of the last planet in one piece—a downright divine miracle they had survived the past four years at all—but this was their home for now, and he would have to take the good with the bad if he wanted a chance at finding happiness with Peter.

“Alright,” he relented, jabbing a finger towards the book, “but watch where you’re going this time. I mean it.”

Peter flashed a cheeky grin, tucking the Guide under his arm. 

“I thought I said that’s why you’re here.”

_____

Walking through the busy streets of Sakaar wasn’t quite as enthralling after Peter’s grim history lesson. The city was still beautiful in a psychedelic, children’s cartoon sort of way, but Tony found himself casting suspicious glances at any passersby that lingered too long or seemed seedy.

They made it in another several blocks before Peter spoke again, head tilted toward the sky.

“Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

Tony followed the boy’s eyes upward to the patchwork of pipes running along the edge of a bright orange building.

“Looks kind of like Hong Kong,” he decided. “Bit of Toronto, maybe a dash of Tokyo.”

“I’ve never been to any of those places.”

“They look kind of like this.” He paused to gawk at a bright fuschia-skinned woman with horns protruding from her skull strolling past, clutching a bag that spat out smoke. “Emphasis on kind of.”

“It reminds me of New York in some avant garde, funhouse kind of way,” Peter said, squinting at a shiny storefront, “but this is really nothing like any of the other places I’ve been so far.” 

They rounded a corner onto a less crowded street where only a few pedestrians were scattered about. 

“I’ve been north of Richmond, South of Albany, and to like...ten planets? eleven?” Peter rattled off. “I’ve lost count by now, but this is...wow.”

“You’ve been to Berlin too.”

Peter cast him a sideways glance. “Didn’t get much time for sightseeing. Someone had to tear up an airport.”

“Well, here's to making up for lost time.”

“I have a feeling Sakaar’s got nothing in common with Berlin, Germany.”

“You’d be surprised.” Tony snorted, ignoring the peculiar feeling the conversation was putting in his chest. It felt like they were reminiscing about another lifetime. In a way, they were. “I bet German nightlife could give even this lot a run for their money.”

They passed under a low hanging archway and onto one of the most impressive roads Tony had ever seen. Thousands of ships and people and vendors wove intricate traffic patterns on the ground and in the sky, zipping along, all in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Woah,” he heard Peter breath as they both took in the view.

Something moved inside of Tony as he watched the streets team with life and with brutal force and it hit him that, for the first time in nearly four years, he was surrounded by other people. A lot of other people.

All of the planets they had visited so far had either been far flung corners of the galaxy, decimated by the dusting, or both. Could this be a sign that the world was truly moving on? Could this be the place where he could let all of the memories of Earth go?

Peter gasped at his side. “No way .” 

“What?” Tony demanded, alarm bells ringing in his ears.

“Look.” Peter pointed upwards, at the tallest building where all of the roads seemed to converge. “Is that…?

Tony followed the finger and his jaw dropped. “Holy shit.” 

The top of the structure was covered by a giant, shining, extremely familiar face. Even cast in silver and suspended thousands of feet in the air, Tony could easily recognize that square jaw and those heavy brows.

“Mister Stark,” said Peter, his voice just barely audible over the teeming crowds. “Is that…the Hulk?”

Tony nodded wordlessly, positive that his brain had short circuited as he fruitlessly attempted to make sense of two vastly separate parts of his life converging in the most unlikely way. 

“How is that even possible?” Peter asked, gaping up at the glaring face. “We saw him right before...in New York...How could he end up here?”

“We ended up here.”

“Do you...do you think that Doctor Banner might still be here...on Sakaar?”

Tony finally remembered to shut his mouth, pressing his lips together in thought. His mind was racing, straining painfully to make sense of the mess.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

Before he could form a single coherent thought, Peter was running.

“Pete!” he shouted. “What are you—wait!”

Peter wove through the crowds as if he were Natasha Romanoff, leaving Tony trailing in his wake, bumping into eccentric strangers and muttering apologies that no one would understand. The boy came to an abrupt stop at the edge of the road where a vendor sat surrounded by some strange art. Tony arrived just in time to hear him greet the vendor breathlessly.

“Hi.” He waved, pointing wildly to the face on the building. “Do you know who that is?”

The vendor narrowed her eyes. “Of course,” she answered in perfect English that Tony couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised by. “You must be new here.”

Peter nodded eagerly, “Just landed. Who is that?”

The vendor tilted her head curiously, looking between Peter and the face.

“The Incredible Hulk,” she finally said, her voice filled with reverence and wonder. “The greatest fighter the Contest of Champions has ever seen.”

“Is he here now?” Tony cut in, stepping in front of Peter. 

The vendor frowned, turning to Tony. “I’m afraid you’re far too late. The Hulk has not been seen on Sakaar since...around the dusting, actually.”

Tony’s heart sank. “Was he one of the dusted? When exactly did he arrive?”

She shook her head, a smile flickering on her face, clearly pleased at the attention she was receiving.

“No,” she answered. “He won his final battle with the Lord of Thunder, a fight for the history books, when-”

Tony took a step back in bewilderment. One familiar face, two familiar names. Just where the hell had they landed?

“Hold on.” Peter peeked out from behind. “The Lord of Thunder? Like Thor?”

“I don’t know his given name,” she said. “I was at the fight, though, and-”

“What did they look like?” Tony pressed.

The vendor looked immensely irritated that neither of her audience were allowing her to finish, huffing before continuing at a louder volume.

“As I was saying.” she flashed a warning look, as if to dare anyone to cut her off. “I was at the Hulk’s final battle, the day before the revolution. Very interesting day. The energy in the arena was truly electric. My partner and I secured prime seats for the show, just next to the Grandmaster’s box…”

Tony hadn’t had the time to fully catch up with Bruce three years ago in his final minutes on Earth, but the doctor had mentioned Thor, saying that their Asgardian friend was lost. From the fuzzy bits of the timeline he could remember, they had met up at some point before Bruce had been flung to Earth. Sakaar must have been where the two Avengers had found each other before the events leading up to Bruce’s arrival in New York. 

Small universe.

He saw Peter shift on the balls of his feet, barely concealing a yawn as the vendor spun her tale, going into elaborate detail of the outfit she had worn and the meal she had eaten before finally reaching the part of the story they had been waiting to hear.

“-and then, the fight,” she finished. “The Lord of Thunder was quite an unusual competitor, seemed to think he knew the Hulk from somewhere...work, was it?”

Tony felt apprehension creep in. It was becoming more and more certain that two of his old friends had been on this planet at some point, but the prospect of seeing either of them again felt far too good to be true.

“Anyways,” she continued, “they were evenly matched. The Lord of Thunder almost won in an upset, but the Grandmaster had to step in and they both were escorted out alive. The next day the revolution happened and the Contest of Champions was over.”

“And the two of them?” Tony begged, desperate for answers, “Where are they now?”

“Oh.” Her expression soured. “They all escaped out of the Devil’s Anus in a small ship. They could be anywhere in the galaxy.”

“The devil’s what ?” Peter repeated.

“The Devil’s-”

“So they left Sakaar before the dusting,” Tony confirmed.

“Yes.”

His disappointment was clouded by the unexpectedness of it all. It felt like his brain had melted. Part of him expected Happy Hogan to stroll around the corner asking if he needed a ride home, the other part wanted to shake his fists at the Hulk’s stupid, silver face and shout, We’re almost happy! Why can’t you leave us alone ? 

“Thanks for the crash course,” he told the vendor, grabbing Peter’s arm and pulling him towards the road. “Let’s go, Pete.”

They turned their backs to the tower and marched, ducking through the archway they’d come through and heading down the quieter street.

_____

“So,” Peter finally said several minutes into their walk back to the ship.

“I know.”

“If Doctor Banner was here and made it back to Earth somehow, do you think we could too?”

Tony felt like an idiot for not realizing that the idea must have been plaguing Peter the entire time. He had been so focused on the possibility of reuniting with his old friends, he had barely considered the implications of those friends not being on Sakaar anymore.

“I don’t think so, Pete.” He shook his head. “Bruce came back through the Bifrost, not the...Devil’s...you know. If we tried to jump through some sort of wormhole, we’d be lucky to not get torn to shreds let alone spat out on Earth.”

It was a sign of how deep in thought Peter was that he didn’t laugh at Tony’s avoidance of saying anus . The boy’s face was contorted and he kicked at a jagged line in the stone-paved road.

“I wish we could just let Earth go.”

“You do?”

“Back on the last planet, you said you’d do anything to get me home and I couldn’t help but think sometimes...why can’t we just not? Every time I think I’m starting to forget it, something like this has to get in the way. I hate feeling so torn between here and there.”

“I don’t think that’ll ever happen,” Tony sighed. “You can’t exactly forget sixteen years of your life.”

“It’d be nice though.”

“Would it?”

Of course Tony had privately thought the same thing on several occasions, but that was one of the many benefits of having Peter around. The kid made him pull his head from his ass every now and then and consider things from another perspective

“I don’t know,” Peter moaned, rubbing furiously at his eyes. “This sucks sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, “but that’s life, kiddo.”

“I’m really starting to get that.”

“We have some time to kill before we have to head back. What d'ya say you take that camera and snap a few shots of me next to these walls? They’ll look great in our new place.”

_____

Settling into Sakaar was different from settling into G4R-10C. In some ways, the planet was just as rough as the desert world they’d left behind, Somehow, the knowledge that there was no longer a crucial mission to get back to Earth made the transition period gentler, like finally moving into a purchased house after years of renting.

Peter joined Tony in the workforce, an unfortunate yet unavoidable outcome with the steep city prices. The hut on G4R-10C hadn’t been much, but it had been free. So the two spent their days at the sanitation center’s machine shops, tirelessly fixing the dozens of junker ships that were spat out of the planet’s wormholes each day.

Without pouring all of their income into an escape plan, the pair soon found themselves with a meager savings and they managed to rent a dingy one-bedroom in one of the city’s signature chromatic high-rises. It sometimes smelled of gasoline and creaked in the wind, but it was quickly filled with touches of home.

They spent their rare days off finding other hidden corners of the fascinating new world, generally avoiding the area around the Hulk tower. It proved a difficult task since it was one of the main roads in the city, but when necessary they walked past the building with their heads turned away from the familiar face.

_____

The Survivors Guide had been right, time did flow differently on Sakaar. There was no pattern to the periods of darkness and light, both arriving at seemingly random intervals before departing in a similar fashion. Because the flow of work—and therefore their daily schedule—was mostly dictated by the daylight, tracking the passage of time was nearly impossible.

Tony did his best, though, and what he estimated was several months after landing, he approached Peter in the apartment after their nightly meal.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said from the sink where he scrubbed a plate.

Peter glanced up from the couch sleepily.

“Oh no.”

Tony flicked soap in his direction. “You are not funny.”

Peter chuckled, but sat up and rested his chin in his hands as he leaned against the back of the couch. “What have you been thinking about, oh wise one?”

“You’re making me regret ever thinking about it.”

“Oh come on,” Peter insisted. “Just tell me.”

Outside of their apartment window, the sky was a deep black and the city of Sakaar buzzed below. Tony considered, for a moment, telling Peter nevermind and asking what he wanted to buy at the grocery store when the sun rose again.

No , he reprimanded. Don’t run from life.

“I was thinking,” he repeated, “that we should go on a trip.”

“A trip?” Peter’s nose scrunched.

“That thing where you go somewhere different from where you were before? Ever been on a trip before?”

“Aside from the obvious, not really…” Peter frowned, “but that’s not what I meant, genius. Why a trip?”

Tony set the dish down and leaned against the counter. “I figured it could be for your birthday.”

“My birthday?” Peter tilted his head as if he’d never heard the word before.

“You’ll be twenty.”

“We don’t know what day it is,” Peter reminded. “I could be fifty by now.”

“Do you feel fifty?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Touché.” Tony rolled his eyes. “But we can make an educated guess.”

Peter blew out a long breath and leaned into the couch a little more. “I guess...”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Tony said defensively. “It was just a suggestion.”

Peter’s face softened.

“No, no. I would definitely go on a trip with you, Mister Stark” he assured. “…but where?”

“Anywhere.”

The unspoken Anywhere close hung heavy in the air.

“Oh,” Peter said, pushing off of the sofa and padding over to the sink. “Okay, how do we choose?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ve never planned a trip before.”

“Neither have I.”

Peter snorted. “You can take the billionaire out of Earth…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony cuffed the side of his head playfully. “Laugh it up.”

“Seriously though,” said Peter. “If this is our first real vacation where no one is planning it but us. It’s kind of like the blind leading the blind.”

“We’re not that bad.”

“Remember when we tried to have a fun day on the last planet?”

“Fine. There’s a first time for everything.”

“We can always check the guide” Peter shrugged, then a glint flashed in his eye. “Wait!” He held up a hand, excitement practically sizzling off of him. 

He ran over to their newly purchased shelf where he snatched the well worn book from where it rested alongside several other knick knacks. “I heard something at work the other day about a bioluminescent waterfall that overlooks an entire nebula. I think it's less than a click away.”

Tony had long since accepted that he would walk into the sun for his kid. Putting their first vacation in the boy’s hands would only be a minor exercise in trust. 

“You tell me where and we’re there,” he promised. “Now come help me with these plates.”

_____

With the small savings they had managed to scrape together, it couldn’t have been more than a month later when Tony and Peter found themselves on a shuttle to their very first vacation together. It still felt odd to spend money on non-essentials, but the giddy look on Peter’s face as they stood at the foot of a hundred meter, glowing spout of liquid made it worth every credit.

They hiked up the cliffside, laughing at each other’s stumbles and marveling at each stunning sight. The effects of the dusting must not have completely subsided, because there were hardly any visitors on the trail. At the peak, they collapsed in a heaving pile.

“I thought I was in shape,” Peter bemoaned as he gasped for breath. “I have literal superpowers.”

Tony was too spent to join in the banter, instead rolling onto his back and staring into the sky where his breath would’ve been snatched away if he’d had any to lose.

Three pale moons hung low in the sky, reflecting off of the luminous pool that the waterfall flowed into. Stars of all colors wove a glittering blanket against the blackness of space. Beautiful didn’t begin to cover it, but he didn’t think any other word would either.

An unexpected wave of emotion slammed into him as he soaked in the view they had worked so hard over the past hours and years to see. They lay on the rocky cliff, letting their heart rates sink and enjoying their reward.

A rustling came from Tony’s side and he saw that Peter had pushed into a sitting position against an iridescent boulder.

“Mister Stark.”

Tony lifted his chin, “Yeah?”

“Thanks for taking me here.”

“Thanks for taking me here.”

Peter grinned, “We did pretty well for two amateurs.”

“Yeah, we did.” He knew the kid wasn’t just talking about the hike.

He thought Peter had only wanted to share his gratitude, but the boy spoke again, his voice more steady.

“A few years ago, when we were on that desert wasteland, you said that getting us home was your second chance.”

Tony sat up and nodded. This was Peter’s classic I-want-to-have-a-heart-to-heart move, a tactic he was well acquainted with by now.

“I’m an old man now, kiddo. I can’t remember every sappy declaration of heroism I’ve ever made.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “I’m serious.”

“I know, I know, I remember the conversation. We were fighting, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember what it was about.”

“Probably something stupid, we were both idiots back then.”

“Sure.” Peter smiled. “We didn’t even know the difference between Xandar and Sakaar.”

“...bet I was right though.”

Peter threw his head back and let out a peal of laughter. “I said I was serious!”

“I thought you were Peter.” Tony jabbed a finger into the boy’s shoulder, before tamping down his humor. “As for my second chance...sappy declaration alert.”

Peter leaned back into the rock and mimed fastening a seatbelt.

“This? Right here?” Tony gestured between the two of them and towards the sea of stars above. “This is my second chance now.”

Peter considered the admission.

“That is sappy,” he finally said.

“Screw you.” Tony picked up a rock and threw it in the boy’s direction. “I take you on this nice vacation–”

“I thought I took you on this nice vacation,” Peter challenged.

“Semantics,” Tony dismissed. “I already said I was old. Just accept my sappiness and we can move on.”

Peter looked at him earnestly, The stars reflected in his round eyes and Tony basked in the warmth that he had spent so long denying came from being around his kid. 

“I don’t mind a bit of sappy.” 

Four years of running from strange place to strange place had changed them so much that he sometimes wondered if they were the same people anymore, but circumstances hadn’t taken away Peter Parker’s uncanny ability to speak from his heart. Maybe Tony could learn a thing or two.

“Think you can handle a bit more?” he asked.

“I’m sure I could find some way to bear it.”

“Back on Titan,” he began, forcing out the name of the planet they still avoided. “The wizard doctor...Doctor Strange...he told me something.”

“The part about there only being one outcome where we won?”

“No, after that. Right before he...you know.”

“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “What did he say?”

Tony made a steeple of his fingers and pressed them against his mouth.

“It was cryptic, of course,” he said into his hands. “I honestly forgot about it for a while so I wouldn’t put much stock into it.”

Peter didn’t cut in, picking up a rock and turning it over in his hands carefully, a clear way to allow Tony the time to form his explanation at his own pace.

“Right before he faded away, he looked at me, I mean right at me and said...‘ You’ll find it out there, eventually.’ ”

Peter furrowed his brow. “I’m guessing since you’re telling me you’ve figured out what it means?”

“Maybe,” Tony sighed, wishing he’d been able to plan out his explanation in advance. “Or at least I’m starting to develop a working theory.”

“Does it have anything to do with this planet?” Peter guessed. “Or Sakaar? This vacation?”

“Yes and no to all three,” Tony answered. “It’s more so about what I said before, about my second chance.”

Peter’s eyes widened and Tony could see a blush tint in his cheeks in the glow of the triple moonlight. “Oh.”

“So...sappy declaration part two. I think what Strange meant all those years ago was that, even though we lost, I found peace out here. I found you.”

Peter ducked his head and Tony could see wetness in his eyes.

“I guess, all of this to say. You’ve saved me so many times out here...and I love you, kid.”

Tony had always thought I-love-yous were hard, something that had to be forced out under moments of duress or as last minute goodbyes in case they were the last thing you ever said to someone. 

Telling Peter how he felt was one of the easiest things he had ever done.

“I love you too,” Peter answered immediately.

Like he had told the kid on their first day in Sakaar, neither of them would ever forget their first home, but under the dazzling nebula with the spray of the glowing waterfall dancing through the air, if anyone had asked Tony where he wanted to be at that very moment, he would have said “ nowhere but here ” without a second thought.

“Happy twentieth birthday, Pete,” he said softly.

Privately, he added, Here’s to twenty more out there in the stars.

Chapter Text

????

The days on Sskaar (or what somewhat resembled days) flowed together like an ever winding river. Even the most simple Tony had tracked time on their journey so far—observing himself and Peter aging—proved insufficient. It seemed like months...weeks…years?—had passed, but not a single one of their hairs was a centimeter longer and Tony swore that Peter hadn’t grown an inch since setting foot in the city. He sometimes worried that centuries had gone by and everyone they had ever known was six feet underground while he toiled about fixing engines and playing house millions of miles away. Those fears were always followed by the gut-wrenching remembrance that, if they were never planning to return to Earth, it didn’t really matter. He had already said his goodbyes.

The Feeling hit for the first time while walking home from work with Peter in perfect step at his side.

Sakaar buzzed all around them. The air was fill with a thousand aromas, street vendors shouted from every corner, children weaved in and out of the legs of unsuspecting pedestrians, a small crew hung posters advertising what seemed to be an event involving a lot of flaming knives.

“That’s got to be a fire hazard,” Tony had remarked offhandedly.

 “We should go.” Peter said, sidestepping a wealthy looking couple and their grotesque looking pet (or was it their child?)

“I’d say over my dead body, but I think that’s a little too accurate in this situation.”

Peter shrugged. “Fair enough. When we get home, we should try and make something with that snail we bought.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

With a start, Tony noted that when Peter had said “when we get home” he hadn’t been referring to Earth, and there it was: The feeling. 

After that, it hit at random—sitting on a rooftop watching garbage fall from a wormhole, eating foods that were once alien but had become favorites, falling asleep to the rumble of spacecraft flying past his window—the sudden and eerie awareness that this was simply life now. 

The Feeling found Tony in their apartment one day while pouring over an instruction manual for a new television set. It was the very first recreational upgrade he had bought in years…or what he assumed was years. He knelt next to the screen, cursing whatever space-idiot designed the building’s cable system, when a loud whoosh swept past his window.

“Damn ships,” he swore, crumpling the corner of the manual in frustration as he pushed himself off the floor with a groan. “Can’t focus on anything in this city.”

He trudged over to the wall, grabbing the window and slamming it shut with unnecessary force. The street noise dulled instantly and he took a moment to revel in the calm. He looked past his reflection in the glass and out at the cloudy blue, portal-dotted sky that spread out against the motley, metallic jumble of the Sakaaran skyline. It was beautiful in its own chaotic way. Dozens of ships wove in and out of the towering high-rises, darting from destination to destination in the city’s usual bustling pace. Would night come around anytime soon? 

Cue the Feeling.

Was night coming anytime soon? How far and how long had he travelled that that was a casual, everyday introspection?

He stood at the window for a while, looking out onto the world below and wondering when it had stopped feeling so alien.

_____

Time didn’t mean as much those days, so Tony was unsure how much of it passed before the sound of a key scraping against the door came from the entrance, snapping him from his stupor.

“I’m home!” Peter sang as he strolled inside, still dressed in his navy blue work clothes.

Tony jerked away from the window, shaking off the Feeling as he flashed an easy smile.

“Hey bud, didn’t think I’d catch you before the shift.”

“Just popping in to grab my tools, I’ll be out of your hair in a second.” Peter paused, scanning him in the way only Peter knew how to do. Understanding crossed his face. “Weird day?”

Tony made a face. “Not at all, actually.” 

Peter nodded sympathetically. “The Feeling again?” 

“I’m good now.” Tony took a step away from the window, making a show of giving Peter his full attention. “Ready for work?”

Peter crossed the room towards the far corner where he grabbed a leather satchel from the floor.

“Am now.”

“I could’ve brought that for you. I’m only coming in a little later than you.”

“Nah.” Peter waved him off. “I was just across the street looking at the new bar. We should check it out sometime.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Sure, and then we can pop back over to Contraxia to visit the brothels.”

Peter was already halfway out the door, waggling his fingers over his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re on board,” he called without looking back. “See you in a bit.”

“Can’t wait,” Tony whispered as the door clicked shut.

He smiled indulgently. The whirlwind that was Peter Parker never stopped and he never wanted it to.

The day carried on as expected. He joined Peter at work, was dragged to the new bar where he laughed until his chest ached, and fell fast asleep to city noises and Peter’s soft breathing five feet away. Life in Sakaar was sometimes exceedingly strange and sometimes so completely mundane, but mostly it was just nice. 

_____

Then, Peter was offered the job.

It was more of an internal promotion really. Peter had been asked, one day, to fill in for a member of their company’s interplanetary mining crew—a team that ran missions to nearby planets to gather rare materials. He had quickly accepted the task and performed so well that the offer was extended permanently.

Tony had been as proud as he had been worried. There was no way he could guarantee the kid’s safety all the way from a different department and he wasn’t sure he was ready for the extended separation right when things were finally settling again, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up—the pay being nearly double what they earned together at the machine shop. 

“Come on Mister Stark,” Peter had laughed playfully when Tony voiced his concerns. “We’re one step closer to getting you back into the penthouse.”

The kid hadn’t been wrong. Once the paychecks began coming in they were able to move from their creaking one-bedroom lodgings to a modest two-bedroom place with electricity that never cut out and windows that actually blocked out the street noise without being stuffed with rags, but there was something about it that Tony just couldn't place. 

“It’s so quiet here,” he had marveled on their first night. 

"Yeah," Peter agreed happily while investigating an odd knob on the oven door. "Maybe we can actually get some sleep when they set off the nightly fireworks.”

“And there’s so much space. How are we ever going to furnish this place?”

Peter shot up from the stove with a gasp, practically vibrating. “I almost forgot to tell you, I was walking home yesterday and saw the craziest thing. There was this bright green bust in the trash so I took a closer look to see if we could use it and it was the face of the Hulk! Mister Stark, I think they used to worship him here.”

Tony shook his head in amusement. “I can’t even appreciate how insane that is because I can’t get past your insinuation that we decorate our new home with trash you found in the street.”

“You lack vision.”

“And you lack common sense.”

Peter just shrugged and carried on with more suggestions, each wilder than the next. Eventually they were clutching their stomachs in laughter with no idea that they were reaching the end of what would be their last normal conversation for a long time. 

_____

Tony finally could place what was off about the new place and the feeling that life on Sakaar would be the rest of their lives was replaced by something new, something much worse—the fear of the same thing.

The new missions often kept Peter away for long stretches of time, leaving Tony alone in what now felt like a massive apartment despite barely being the size of his old bedroom in New York. After sleeping in the same room as the boy every night for god knows how long, the silence was deafening. He spent hours waiting for his kid to return and when he finally did, the boy retreated to his room, leaving Tony to spend that time wishing they weren’t separated by so many walls. 

He often lay in bed staring at silly photos from their journeys and thinking about their early days in space. How they would huddle together on the unnamed ship and worry about getting home, or when they would cobble together meals from nothing on G4R-10C and pray things would get better. 

Now they were home and they had plenty to eat, but things weren’t all better. 

Don’t be selfish, he always chastised himself. Just because he doesn’t need you anymore, doesn’t mean things are worse. Kids grow up.

In the darker moments, when Peter was late getting back from missions or returned with stories clearly edited to cut out danger, Tony sometimes worried he had misinterpreted the final words of Stephen Strange, or maybe that the man had turned to dust before getting to finish his message. Was he destined to find “it”—home? family? happiness?—out there, only to lose it all over again?

It was a blessing, he figured, that he hadn’t loved the kid this much when he spent every night patrolling the streets as Spider-Man. If he had known Peter then like he did now, he probably would’ve never slept again. How had May Parker done it?

Not everything changed, of course. Peter was still Peter and they still found pockets of joy in stolen days off or when the occasional meal when their schedules lined up, but even in the rare moments they found themselves together, Peter might as well have been on a different planet. 

The usual constant chatter and smiles were replaced by one word answers and faraway looks. A gaping chasm had formed between them and it was only a matter of time before someone fell in.

_____

The beginning of the end of Tony and Peter’s great adventure coincided with the day that chasm broke and someone fell in. 

It arrived quietly, while Tony lay in his favorite armchair, fast asleep as Sakaar bustled below. Peter had been gone on a mission for longer than usual and Tony had planned to stay up to make sure the kid had returned safely. He must have fallen asleep because the sounds of rustling and cursing dragged him back to consciousness. 

He blinked to clear his vision, lifting his head to the noise from the other side of the room.

“Pete?” he croaked, pushing himself off the couch.

The rustling stopped.

“Y-yeah, Mister Stark. I’m here.”

“Y’r back,” Tony slurred, shaking his head to rid the last of the sleep from his head.

He stood and looked to the kitchen where he saw familiar, curly brown hair and the back of the blue jacket that Peter always wore on his missions. The boy was in front of the sink, staring out of the window as ships whizzed by.

“When did you get in?” he asked, walking across the living room. “I tried staying up for you.”

“Just a few minutes ago,” Peter answered quickly. “You can go back to bed.”

The first clue something was wrong should’ve been Peter’s stilted responses and strange tone. Tony later blamed the increased distance and estrangement for his failure to pick up on the warnings. 

“I’ve slept enough. Come on kid, I want to hear all about your trip.” It wasn’t until Peter didn’t turn around that Tony narrowed his eyes. “Peter,” he said slowly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He approached cautiously, alarm bells ringing reaching fever pitch when he spotted the crimson-stained sink basin.

“What the hell is that?” he demanded furiously, closing the rest of the gap between them gently grabbing Peters shoulder.

He spun the boy around so they were face to face and a small gasp escaped from his lips. It was amazing he hadn’t seen the blood sooner. The thick, red liquid ran down the entire left side of the kid’s face, trickling out of a deep gash just above his eye. 

“Peter,” he breathed, horrorstruck. “What the hell happened?”

He ran a tender finger across the side of the boy’s face, holding back a wince when he heard a hiss at the contact.

“It’s nothing,” Peter rasped.

He cupped the boy's chin and searched his face for any other injuries. “Is that really what we’re going with?”

“Yeah,” Peter’s tone was petulant with a hint of a challenge and he jerked away from Tony’s touch. The rejection stung and he was still outraged by the injury, but more startling was the anger in Peter’s normally mild mannered voice.

“That’s so weird,” Tony said, forcing his hands to his side and his voice to remain steady, “because it looks to me like something… or someone carved up your face.”

“That is weird.”

Annoyance spiked in Tony’s stomach. “Cut the bullshit.” 

Peter's bloody face fell. “Can’t you just leave it alone?”

“I can't, actually.”

Peter turned away again. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “I still heal fast.”

Tony let out a noise of frustration and moved back into Peter’s line of sight. “You look like the end of a horror movie!”  

“Head wounds bleed a lot!”

“So you admit you’re bleeding,” he accused. Why was the kid being so difficult? 

“Don’t worry,” Peter scoffed, arms crossed. “I won’t get it on the new carpet.”

“What’s with the attitude? You think I give a flying fu-who cares about the carpet?! You can dye the whole apartment red for all I care. Just-just tell me what happened.”

Peter threw his hands in the air as if he were being forced to explain why he'd chosen white socks instead of black.

“We ran into some hostiles while loading the ship, that’s all. I wasn’t fast enough and they got a cut in. Happy?”

"Not particularly, no."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but I don't actually have time to get yelled at right now. I have to be back at work to give a report in the morning."

Tony was silent for a beat. It all made sense. The frustration, the biting retorts, even the strange distance between them the past few...however long it had been. Peter was stressed. How could he not have seen it before? He'd spent years coping with the pressures of a high-powered career and had tried every unhealthy method in the book. He had no clue exactly how old Peter was now, but the kid was certainly still far too young to bear the burden of supporting a family. Even if that family was just himself and his gruff, neurotic mentor-figure. 

“You have to quit the job.”

The look of disgruntled surprise on Peter’s face would have almost been funny had it not been dripping with blood. “What?”

“You can go back to working at the machine shop with me. They’ll take you back in a heartbeat.”

“I can’t do that!”

“The mining crew is too much,” Tony insisted, placing a hand on his hip. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

“I’m good at my job, Mister Stark.”

“Sure, it really looks like it.”

Wrong answer. Tony knew immediately after saying it. The kid was already defensive over his perceived inadequacies, it wouldn’t help ease the tension to lord a mistake in front of him.

Peter’s eyes flashed. “I get it.” He swiped angrily at his face and flecks of blood fell onto the floor. “You don’t think I can handle myself.”

Tony barely noticed the blood anymore. He was still worried, of course, but Peter had been right about one thing. He did heal fast. What really concerned him was the uncommon rage that was rolling off of his kid in waves. Had he been this tense the entire time? Over their years together, he had seen the boy upset, joyful, confused, annoyed, but Peter Parker wasn’t generally an angry person. Tony wasn't sure if he had ever seen Peter this angry, especially not this suddenly. Even more evidence that the job was no good for his kid.

“I know you can handle yourself,” he conceded. “You feel like you have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders, but you don’t. Let me share the load.”

"You’re always taking the high ground.” Peter’s nostrils flared and his eyes blazed with a palpable heat. “It’s always the great Tony Stark saving poor baby Peter Parker, right?”

“That’s not fair.” Tony pointed an accusatory finger. “You’ve saved me plenty of times.”

“You diverted our course after Titan because I couldn’t survive the trip,” Peter challenged.

“You carried me onto the ship and patched me up before I bled out,” Tony countered.

“You played the game on Contraxia for us and paid off that gang that wanted to kidnap me.”

“We wouldn’t have even gotten to Contraxia if you hadn’t slapped sense into me at the gift shop on the blue planet.”

“You gave up your food for me,” Peter shouted, eyes shining with emotion. “You gave up the entire Earth for me!”

“And I’d do all of that a million times over again if I could.”

There it was. The root of all of the avoidance and silent treatment after taking on the burden of supporting their little makeshift family.

“Well,” Peter’s voice shook. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Peter huffed, crossing his arms. “You can’t keep doing this, Mister Stark. I can save myself.”

“I don’t care how many times I have to save you. I'm not trying to fill out some Save Peter punch card.”

"Too bad, huh? Then at least you might get a free sandwich out of it."

"What?"

“If it’s that much effort to save me all the time, maybe we should’ve just risked starvation all those years ago.” 

“Don’t,” Tony whispered.

“Better yet, maybe you should’ve just tossed me out of the airlock when you had the chance.”

Tony’s face fell. “You don’t mean that.” 

“You don’t know what I mean.”

Tony was nearing the end of his rope, tired of placating and pretending like he wasn’t just as mad as Peter, that he wasn’t sick of watching the kid crumble under the weight of his responsibility.

“Maybe if you ever bothered to come home I wouldn’t be so worried all the time.” 

A dark look crossed Peter’s face and Tony knew his next words would hurt before they were even spoken.

“You could try going out sometime on your own,” he spat. “Maybe try making a friend that isn’t stuck with you and you wouldn’t be so lonely.”

Tony took a step back as if he had been physically struck. From the look on Peter’s face, it seemed he was also surprised at the ferocity of the insult.

This has gone too far, he thought. Time to be the adult.

”Peter,” Tony whispered, hands up in surrender. “I know I was probably out of line demanding you quit, but I think it might be for the best.”

“You’re right,” Peter said, his voice strangely calm.

“Thank you.” He let out a sigh and his shoulders sagged. “Everything will be-”

“You were out of line asking me to quit.”

“Okay–”

“You have no right to tell me what to do. I’m not a kid anymore and you aren’t my dad.” 

Something in Tony finally broke and the voice telling him the kid didn't mean it evaporated. Peter was wrong about one thing, Tony wasn’t always one for the high ground.

“And thank God for that,” he hissed back. 

It was Peter’s turn to recoil. The boy’s mouth hung open in shock and for a moment, the two stood bristling in a silent standoff. 

The rational side of Tony was fully aware that Peter was a windmill of knives, that the pressure was causing him to lash out in every direction in an attempt to cope with the burden of responsibility. He’d read somewhere once that the human brain wasn’t fully formed until age twenty-five and in many ways Peter was still so young…. but he never had been able to be rational when it came to that kid. 

With a snap, Peter shut his mouth and furrowed his brow. Tony was sure he was about to hurl another insult, but instead, the boy stalked over to the counter and grabbed a prickly pear. Before Tony could react, Peter wound up and flung the fruit with full force so it exploded at his feet, sending chunks flying aross the room.

“K-kid,” Tony stammered. “I didn’t-”

Peter had already grabbed a book off the shelf and pitched in his direction.

Tony didn’t try and defend himself, instead ducking the various projectiles Peter lobbed his way.

“Screw you,” Peter gritted out, blinking blood and tears from his eyes.

In slow motion, Tony watched as Peter grabbed his final ammunition, the precious silver camera that had captured all the best of their moments on their great adventure, and slammed it into the ground.

“Don’t wait up this time,” Peter muttered, before spinning towards the exit and storming out of the apartment. The door slammed behind him, leaving Tony alone with a broken camera and a shattered heart.

Chapter Text

????

Tony waited up, because of course he did. Peter could have thrown a hot knife at his heart and Tony would have still spent the rest of the night sitting in bed, replaying the argument in his head, and agonizing over each and every word as if it would change what had been said.

The instant the door clicked shut, he considered running after Peter and saying the right words to make things better. He imagined wrapping his kid in a hug and telling him everything would be okay, that he would make everything okay because he had the perfect solution that would keep them both safe and happy, but the perfect words didn’t exist and the days of Superhero-Stark—the man who commanded boardrooms and congressional panels alike with his silver tongue—were light-years away. Left behind was a tired, lonely human with a pseudo-parental relationship as wrecked as his living room. 

Instead, Tony trudged in circles around his suddenly far-too-large apartment and cleaned up the exploded fruit, tossed books, and pieces of camera, wiping the frustration from his eyes as the night progressed.

Hours later, the door swung open and Peter slunk inside, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket and head fixed towards the floor. Tony noted that he was no longer bleeding freely but the sullen look stuck on the boy’s face as he made a wordless beeline for his room sent a clear message: Leave me alone.

There's the perks of a two-bedroom, Tony thought mournfully, and they say money can’t buy happiness.

_____

If life before the fight had been unhappy, the period that followed was unbearable.

The next day began with Peter out the front door before Tony could get a single word in. Not that he knew what to say. How do you apologize to someone for caring about them too much?

It was difficult to measure the passage of time on Sakaar, but Tony knew the silent treatment wasn’t going away immediately. Time passed and with each waking moment, the tension endured. At one particularly low point, Tony found himself feeling nostalgic towards the months spent adrift on the ship with the unknown name. They’d been scared out of their minds, constantly on the brink of starvation, and completely out of their element, but at least Peter spoke to him back then.

He never entertained those thoughts for too long. As much as it hurt to wake up to another day alone, he would take a safe Peter over a friendly Peter any day.

And Peter did appear to be safe. From the brief glimpses he caught of his kid—could he still think of Peter as his kid when the people who passed him on the street saw the boy about as much as he did?—Tony saw that the gash on the boy’s face that had torn them apart had almost entirely healed thanks to Peter’s genetic enhancements. 

Unfortunately, the less visible wounds that had been ripped open would take more than a radioactive spider bite to close up. 

Then there were times when it seemed like there was something Peter wanted to say, as if an apology was on the tip of his tongue but the words couldn’t force themselves out. Tony couldn’t blame him, it was something he experienced nearly every time he found himself in the same room as the boy.

Once, he physically bumped into the kid coming out of his room in the dark with a hefty satchel under his arm. He opened his mouth to murmur a quiet “sorry” when Peter made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and side stepped him, rushing off to God-knows-where and clutching at his bag like it held the crown jewels.

_____

It was around when Tony had accepted his lack of importance in the grand scheme of things, resigning himself to wallow in the frosty silence of his own home for the rest of his wretched life, when the universe reared its head and decided to remind him that things were never going to be so predictable.

It began when he returned from work to the smell of oils, cooked meat, and...ketchup?

For a moment, panic flashed and he thought someone had broken in. His hand gripped the latch on his work bag, ready to use any means necessary to secure his home. Then, the identity of the boy standing at the stove registered and he was left scrambling for understanding instead of a weapon.

Peter stood hunched over the stove, quietly stirring a pot of the red liquid Tony had mistaken for ketchup. He barely reacted to Tony’s entrance.

Tony instinctually averted his eyes—as if just looking at the kid would cause spontaneous combustion—and hurried to take his bag off of his shoulder, ready to hang it up and leave to give the kid space to cook in peace.

“Hi.”

A brief pause. Then followed the realization that Peter, the boy who had been giving an arctic-level of cold shoulder for what felt like months, was not only making a meal that looked a lot like hamburgers, but was also speaking. To him no less.

“H-hey,” Tony quickly responded, praying he hadn’t already said too much.

Peter moved the pot off of the heat, knuckles white against the kitchen spoon. Tony was just about to accept the greeting as a small victory—a sign that not all was lost and that their relationship wasn’t beyond salvageable—when the boy spoke again.

“Um, how was work?”

Tony froze, resisting the urge to check that his ears were both still firmly attached and that he’d heard correctly.

“It was…good,” he answered, still keeping it concise in case Peter wanted to back out at any moment. 

“Good. That’s good.”

More silence, then a surge of bravery came over him.

“I thought you’d be working right now.” Short, business-like, proof that he wasn’t going to try and rekindle the fight, but an offer for more conversation if it was in the cards.

To Tony’s great relief, Peter nodded. “Usually,” he answered, “but, uh, something...came up.”

“Oh.”

The hissing of meat on a pan filled the room and Peter turned away to flip whatever he had been cooking. 

Tony took it as a signal to accept the beginnings of an olive branch and go, moving toward the hook for his bag again with every intention to retreat to his room and spend the rest of his night analyzing every second of their conversation.

“Wait.”

He jerked around. Peter was staring at him with wide eyes, clutching his spoon so hard, it would surely snap any second.

“Yeah?” he urged gently, heart thudding in his chest.

“I-I made burgers,” Peter stammered, gesturing to the pan, “for both of us. If you want to, I mean.”

Peter hadn’t made an Earth inspired meal since the earlier days on G4R-10C. It wasn’t because the memories hurt, or that the ingredients weren’t available. They just hadn’t needed it for comfort anymore. This was so much better, so much more incredible, than an olive branch. It was an apology.

“I want to,” he blurted out. “God, kid. Yeah I want to.”

Peter ducked his head and a small smile crept on his face that made Tony feel warm all over in the way that only Peter did. Had he done something to make this miracle happen? If so, he wished to the otherwise unforgiving universe that he could invent time travel and buy his past self a gift basket.

“Okay,” Peter said sheepishly. “Want to get the buns out of the oven?”

Tony dropped his work bag on the spot, not bothering to walk all the way to the hook.

“Of course. Just tell me where I need to be.”

_____

They didn’t speak much while finishing up the meal other than surface level instructions like “Can you pass the oil” and “Does Xandarian snail actually make a good beef substitute?” The air still crackled with unspoken emotion, making every accidental shoulder brush or hip bump excruciatingly awkward. 

It wasn’t until the meat was pressed firmly between the buns and they were seated at their table, facing each other, that Peter finally broke through.

“I’m sorry.” The words spilling out as if even he hadn’t known he was going to say them.

“Peter, you don’t have to-”

“Yeah,” Peter said firmly, expression determined. “I do.”

Tony reached across the table and rested a hand next to the boy’s wrist. “If that’s the case,” he said softly, “then I’m sorry too.”

Peter frowned. “For what?”

“Being an asshole, not listening, my interior decorating skills. Pick whatever you want.”

“Stop.” Peter said, drawing his hand back. “This is my apology.”

“Sorry kiddo, I’m hijacking it. You don’t get to be the only one to drive the guilt bus today. Just got my commercial license in the mail, actually.”

Peter let out a quick, airy laugh that barely reached across the table. It was the first real sound of happiness Tony had heard from the kid in what felt like forever and it couldn’t have been any more beautiful. 

“Fine,” he said. “Apology accepted.”

“Back at you.”

The grain of humor was all it took. Like a rubber band stretched to its limits, the tension broke and Tony deflated into his chair, finally catching his breath for the first time in a while.

“I wasn’t done though.” Peter said, falling back into seriousness. “…I’m sorry for saying I was glad you're not my dad. That was out of line.”

“I’m not, though, your dad.”

“No.” Peter shook his head. “You aren’t, but...you know what it implied.”

“I’m sorry if you ever got the impression I was trying to replace someone.”

He and Peter didn’t need words like dad or father when they were the only two people on the planet who knew their meaning.

“I didn’t,” Peter promised, brimming with sincerity.

“I’m way too young to be a father, anyways. Let’s just get that straight.”

Peter cracked a smile. “I only have one dad,” he said honestly, “and I barely ever knew him so the word dad doesn’t even mean much to me.”

“What about Ben?”

“Ben wasn’t my dad. He never tried to be. Ben was Ben. Just like you’re Mister Stark.”

Tony felt his eyes prickle. "You know..." He cleared his throat, fearing if he really broke it would scare Peter away from the miraculous progress they'd made. “The older you get, the weirder that gets.”

Peter scrunched his nose. “The weirder what gets?”

“You calling me Mister Stark .”

“Shut up, it’s endearing,” Peter quipped, the humor not quite reaching his eyes. Something was still there.

Don’t press, Tony reminded himself. Don’t risk this.

“Yeah,” he conceded. ”A little.”

Peter stared intently at his hamburger like the imitation beef was plotting to escape the plate. It was as if there still was something on the tip of his tongue that he was trying to spit out. Tony opened his mouth to change the subject when–

“I’m leaving the mining crew.”

The hand Tony had extended to grab a knife fell back on the table. "What?"

“I thought about what you said,” Peter started slowly, gaze trained carefully on his hands. “A lot actually, and...I asked for a transfer.”

Whatever Tony had been expecting, that wasn't it. He stared open-mouth at Peter for moment longer, as if the extra time would give the boy the chance to say that he'd been lying and that he was actually moving out of the apartment for good.  

“You...seriously?”

Peter nodded. “I found out today that it was approved.”

“That’s…Jesus, that’s great!”

It was all happening at once. Peter was talking to him again, cooking old meals, promising to quit his job after weeks of silence. It didn’t make any sense, but since when did their life make sense? Was it so impossible that things could finally be going their way? 

The desire to hope was too strong. 

“You won’t regret it, Pete,” he vowed. "I swear. If money is an issue I’ll handle it myself. I–“

“Mister Stark.”

“No,” he quickly corrected. “You’re right, we’ll handle it together, because that’s what we do from now on. We have some money set aside and the place is fully furnished by now so we can cut down on spending. Full transparency, full trust, full–”

“Mister Stark–” Peter dropped his hands on the table with a loud thud, finally meeting Tony’s eyes. “–the job is in another planetary system.”

“What?”

Had a bomb gone off? No, the living room was still intact, light was still streaming in from a sunny Sakaaran day, and Peter' big brown eyes and not-quite grown face were still across from him. 

For how much longer? the evil inner voice wondered. He'd never related more to the pieces of junk that were always dropping from the wormholes around the city, free falling into the unknown at terminal velocity. 

“H-how did this happen?” 

“They gave me the transfer I asked for.”

“You asked to be transferred out of this planetary system?” he demanded hoarsely, feeling himself rise from the chair.

He suddenly wished he was back 3 hours in time when Peter wasn’t talking to him. He would take sleeping in separate rooms with wholehearted pleasure, hell, he would get the kid his own apartment, if it meant stopping this conversation.

“Yeah?” Peter answered, unperturbed by the reception. “You said that you didn’t think my job was good for us. I think that you’re right.”

“You can’t do that.”

“It’s a safe job.” Peter frowned. “It’s a long journey, which is another conversation we need to have, but I think we’ll make it just fine. It’ll be an adjustment though.”

Tony was pacing, mostly lost in his own turmoil. He’d been right, it was all too good to be true. His stupid second chance sucked down the drain.

“Peter,” he tried, uncaring of how desperate he must have sounded, “you just can’t.”

“I thought you wanted me to–“

“Not like that…” Why was the kid so calm about this? Had their years together really meant nothing? “Never like that.”

Peter’s face twisted. “Mister Stark,” he said slowly, a look of comprehension dawning. “I don’t think you’re hearing me.”

“What am I possibly not hearing?” Tony demanded. He didn’t pause his pacing, mind racing as he prepared to get on his knees and beg if needed.

“We.”

Tony froze.

Peter offered another slight, wavering smile. “I was kind of…hoping you would come with?”

The number of times it felt like the proverbial rug was getting ripped from under him was giving him whiplash. Tony floundered, gaping at Peter who had both hands clutched to the edge of the table.

“What...do you think?” Peter pressed hopefully.

What did he think? He had no idea what destination Peter had in mind, what moving would entail, or what it would mean for the life they had built together, but the answer was obvious, it took no questioning, no second guesses.

“Okay.”

Peter stayed stock still, frozen in hopeful apprehension as if he hadn’t heard Tony’s response. Then his brows knitted together.

“Wait,” he said, voice dripping with disbelief. “Really?”

The thought of moving planets for the nth time was frightening, exhausting, and daunting, but he’d promised to follow Peter to the end of the universe. That was a promise he planned to uphold to his last breath.

“Yeah, really. Give me the details.” 

Peter opened his mouth excitedly, then, like a switch had flipped, snapped it shut. 

“Yeah...so about that.”

“Oh god.” Tony groaned, leaning his head back. “Where is it? Just lay it on me.”

Peter tugged uncomfortably at the sleeves of his jacket. “You should probably sit down, Mister Stark.”

“Contraxia again?” he pressed. “I can invest in a coat, maybe some ear plugs. Blinding myself is always an option.”

Peter’s voice was small. “A bit farther than that.”

“Somewhere new?”

“Old.” Peter paused. “Mister Stark, it’s the Solar System.”

“The what ?” Tony’s head jerked back. Had he misunderstood something?

“Solar System,” Peter repeated louder, more boldly despite brimming with visible nervous energy. “It’s got eight, maybe nine depending on who you ask, planets revolving around a star called the sun. Great place.”

“What...are you...I don’t understand.”

Peter stared intently at his own fingers, anxiety rolling off in waves. “I spent some time there a while back. You have too.”

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“I mean, I guess you spent more than a little time there–”

“That’s not what I meant. Drop the coy little act, Peter.” 

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Peter said softly, his eyes wide in apprehension and brimming with earnestness. “Not about this.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I–I don’t know what else to say.”

The Solar System. The same planetary system he had called home for nearly half a century. The place that sometimes felt more like an old story from an epic novel that filled his dreams rather than somewhere he had once lived. The place that sometimes was a vessel of cherished memories and other times seemed like a ghost that haunted his every step with echoes of a long dead life.

“Yeah.” Tony dragged his hands through his head and let out a long breath. “The Solar System, sure.” 

Peter blinked. “Really?”

“I’m trying really hard to roll with the punches here, kid. So what, are we becoming Martians now?”

Martians, because even though the other place—the obvious place— was right there in his mind. He’d been running away for so long he couldn’t bring himself to believe that he would ever start running back. Peter’s expression shifted and Tony’s heart threatened to leap from his chest. It couldn’t be, but at the same time he knew it was.

“Okay.” Peter held up a cautionary hand. “Don’t freak out,”

An old flame flickered inside of him. “We’re well past that, kiddo. Just spit it out.”

“The mining mission is to gather, well…wood.” Peter hesitated. “From trees.”

“Wood,” Tony repeated like he'd never heard the word before.

“Turns out it’s actually kind of a rare material around this area.”

“I think,” Tony said, suddenly finding the room far too warm, “that I need to sit down now.”

He dropped back into the nearby chair and sunk his head in his hands, holding back a tsunami of emotions. Of course. Some part of him had known, before Peter had even opened his mouth, that no other place in the universe would elicit such conflict from the kid. 

“The mission is to Earth,” Peter finished tentatively.

“No shit,” Tony mumbled into his hands. “I gathered that much.”

In the God knows how many years he’d been traveling with Peter, there had been so many ups and downs they could have inspired a Coney Island roller coaster, but this was something different. This was the loop-de-loop on a much bigger, much scarier ride where ups and downs were all the same thing and nothing in the world made sense outside of the rushing feeling of life hitting you in the face at a hundred miles an hour.

Part of Tony registered that Peter was still talking.

“–talked to my boss and worked everything out. I do three more jobs here and then were granted passage on a ship doing a year-long tour with a stop on Earth. The spot is for two and it's ours if we want it.”

Silence. Had the kid stopped talking?

Tony picked his head up from his hands and saw Peter peering back at him from across the table.

“I–” he started.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

“Understatement of the century.”

Peter bit his lip. “Just...say something, please.”

Tony didn’t know what to say. That he was completely floored? That the idea of returning to the home he had spent so long trying to say goodbye to was both petrifying and absolutely thrilling?

“Jesus.” He exhaled, rubbing at the sides of his face. “You sure know how to make an apology.”

“If you don’t want to go...if going back is too much and you want to stay on Sakaar, I can do that too. I’ll transfer back to work with you and we can just be Tony and Peter out in space forever and ever.”

“Peter.”

“Seriously,” Peter said quickly. “You said a while back that I was your second chance and I never want to take that for granted.”

“Kid, shut up.”

The boy snapped his mouth shut and looked up so expectantly, so trustingly that a part of Tony’s broken heart mended. 

“We’re going,” he said firmly. “We’re going to Earth.”

“Oh.” Peter blinked, his expression growing far-away. “Wow, okay. We’re going to Earth.”

Tony knew from experience that this was Peter’s oh-shit face. With a lurch, he wondered how long the kid had known about the job offer. Certainly not long enough that he’d fully processed the enormity of the situation.

“When do we leave?”

“Probably in a few weeks,” Peter answered before lighting up with realization. “Oh, we can mark weeks again, by the way.”

“What?” Tony breathed. “Seriously?”

How many years had they spent searching for a way back to Earth for the golden ticket to present itself right when they finally had given up. It seemed he was about to find out.

“I got an information packet on the planet and it had everything including how humans track time. It’s December 26th, 2022 right now.” 

“Oh.”

“Merry Christmas.”

2022 didn’t feel like a real year. Would he be able to look at a calendar and see three twos and a zero lined up together without feeling physically ill? Probably not. 

2018 felt like eons away. So much life had happened in that time, but it had only been...

“Five years,” Tony whispered, a darker thought creeping in.

“The traditional response is usually Merry Christmas, but it’s been a while so I’ll let it slide.”

“We’ve only been gone for five years.”

“Crazy isn’t it? Sometimes it feels like a lot longer.”

Tony shook his head slowly. “No kid, don’t you see? It’s only been five years. Everyone on Earth, they’ll still be there.”

“Oh."

He paused. “Or not.”

“Oh.”

Chapter Text

Month 1 – February 2023

In college, Tony had been dragged on a spring break cruise by his roommate and best friend James Rhodes. It had been a public cruise, planned and paid for by Rhodey’s grandmother despite fifteen year-old heir-to-a-fortune Tony’s vehement objections. 

In his memory, the ship had been bustling with strangers and full of tight corridors that went from one baffling room to the next with the most bizarre mix of unlimited free time and activities so numerous, it would take twenty cruises to do them all. Since that vacation, he had been on private yachts, quinjets, a helicarrier, and most recently an eclectic variety of space ships. Of the dozens of modes of transportation he’d taken in his well-traveled lifetime, the ship that carried his unconventional family of two back to the planet Earth was most like the boat from that ill-fated, spring break cruise of 1976. 

The only discernible differences, Tony figured, were the lack of an Olympic-sized swimming pool on the top deck and the views of the entire universe flying past through each window at millions of miles per hour.

He wandered aimlessly through the maze of hallways connecting bunk rooms to control rooms to laboratories to kitchens, desperately trying to focus on anything other than the view of the metal jungle of his former home shrinking in the porthole windows. Sakaar had been a complicated time in their lives, but he had once vowed to make it his forever home.

The view looks a lot better from a state-of-the art mining ship than the pits of a scrapper ship, he mused. Can’t say I never made anything of myself out here.

He let a hand drag against a smooth, polished wall as he turned a tight corner, forcing his breathing to slow as the onslaught of worries that had become a second shadow pressed in.

Will we make it back safely? Will we still fit in on Earth? Is anyone still alive out there?

Not succumbing to sentimentality was much harder when his usual distraction was stuck deep in the ship, giving a presentation to a crowd of Sakaarans on the unique properties of wood and how to discern it from metals.

Actually, Tony glanced down at his new wrist watch, proudly displaying the date and GMT time of Earth, it’s about time for my own meeting.

An unexpected condition of their transfer was for Tony to take a job on the ship as well. The work requirement wasn’t astonishing, rather the role he would be fulfilling. Upon arrival, they had been informed that there were plenty of mechanics, but that the cafeteria needed additional staff.

Years ago, if anyone had told Tony Stark that a step in his career path would be a lunch lady—let alone on an alien spaceship—he would’ve had them thoroughly checked for a brain injury, but when he was given the news of the placement, he had only shrugged.

“I think I’ll suit a hairnet,” he’d told Peter who had heartily laughed.

“Maybe they can get you two so you can cover that awful beard of yours.”

There had been a time when survival had been the only force pushing him forward, when there was no time left for philosophizing, but with the collision of his two vastly different worlds looming in the near future, he often found himself comparing his new life to his old life.

Would the days of space travel become his old life and the return to Earth mark the beginning of a new, new life?

Month 2 – March 2023

Peter was amazing, because of course he was, and having a job in the warm, snug mess hall gave Tony the unique opportunity to watch the kid work his magic over the occupants of their temporary home. Peter’s hard work and limitless supply of quiet enthusiasm were quite popular aboard the ship and he quickly wormed his way into the hearts of the crew. 

Every night, the kid chattered away in broken alien languages with anyone available. Some nights, Tony even joined in on the conversations, mixing old Earth stories with new Peter-and-Tony Original Adventures while the universe floated past the windows. The meals were interesting and informative, but above all, it was just good fun.

Years ago, if anyone had told Tony that he would one day enjoy working in food service he would have had himself checked for brain injuries, but now, he couldn’t say it was anywhere near the worst job he’d ever had.

And Peter made everything better.

The inhabitants of the ship liked the pair so much that, one typical meal time while Tony hovered next to Peter’s small crowd, an officer approached.

“Your expertise has been invaluable,” he had said to Peter.

“Oh.” Peter’s eyes darted nervously to Tony who smiled and offered a slight shrug. “Thanks.”

“We’d like to show our gratitude.”

“You don’t have to–”

“We are willing to offer you release from your contracts upon arrival, free to return to your homeland immediately with no need to carry out the remainder of your duties.”

Both of them had been stunned. They had only grinned and thanked the officer and crew for their kindness, left reeling as another piece in the puzzle of their future slotted into place. It had reminded Tony of the generosity of the people from the blue planet who had taken helpless travelers in immediately after being massacred by the greatest tragedy the universe had known. People like that made him rethink the accuracy of phrases like “an act of humanity.”

There was that pesky nostalgia sinking in again.

_____

As much as it filled Tony with joy to see Peter so liked and accepted, it gave him immeasurable pleasure that he was still his boy’s favorite. 

In stolen moments aboard the ship, he and Peter scraped together chances to be alone together, fearful of repeating the events of their dark months on Sakaar.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when we get back?” Tony asked one day during a spare hour between both of their work schedules.

It was a safe topic, one that he could handle. The question that constantly burned in his mind that he couldn’t bring himself to ask was not.

What about everything after that?

They were in Tony’s bed, the bottom bunk of their stack. Tony leaned against the wall with Peter laying at his feet. A nebula shimmered in the small porthole window like an ocean of colorful diamonds, a sight that would’ve stopped Tony in his tracks years ago. Today, he only paid attention to the boy in front of him.

Peter didn’t even open his eyes. “We could watch Gravity,” he suggested. 

“We spend five years away from Earth and the first thing you want to do is watch a movie you’ve already seen?”

Peter yawned and rolled over so Tony could see that he had cracked a sparkling eye open. “You haven’t seen it.”

“And I’m not sure I want to. After seeing the real thing, how good could a movie be?”

“It won like eight Academy Awards.”

“I don’t think any of the Academy members have been to space.”

“Probably.” Peter shrugged, an awkward motion while laying down. “We could always put on subtitles and talk over it.”

Tony nudged him with a foot, relishing in the squirm it elicited. 

“I like the way you think, Pete.”

“Ugh.” Peter retched theatrically. “Get your disgusting toes away from me.”

They continued trading mundane plans back and forth, carefully skirting around the big, unavoidable questions: Who would still be left following the dusting? How would they react to the return of two people surely thought dead? How would life on Earth change what they had built for five years?

When Peter nodded off at his feet, Tony made sure to remain perfectly still until it was time to wake the boy up and go back to work.

Month 3 – April 2023

After crossing the halfway mark in the trip, the unavoidable questions became less and less avoidable.

Earth was calling to him. It had been tugging at his heart since the very first day adrift on the unnamed ship, but the feeling had faded over the years into a gentle, easy to ignore pull. Now, it seemed that each mile they traveled as they approached their destination only strengthened the call. Memories Tony had worked relentlessly to forget were all flooding back, until, for the first time in years, Tony had a dream about Pepper Potts.

It had been one of the boring ones, the ones forgettable enough that they became hard to discern from real life. He had been standing at the center of a room that looked like an amalgamation of every kitchen he had ever been in. Pepper had been sitting on the countertop in the way she sometimes did—legs crossed and leaning back on her hands. Her head was thrown back in laughter at something he had said and her strawberry blonde bangs fluttered as her body shook.

The features of her face were warped and the edge of his vision was blurry with dream fog, but he jolted awake to an announcement about a shipwide landing procedure meeting with tears in his eyes and an indescribable melancholy in his chest. It wasn’t until halfway through a presentation on the lunar base they would be arriving at in less than thirty Earth days that he remembered having the dream at all, but he could no longer shake the twist in his stomach that tightened as the minutes crept forward.

The next night, nestled alone in his bunk, he cracked open the worn guidebook that had made it through all the years and miles, turning to the only section he had never before had the courage to read.

Earth, the page said in plain black and white text, is a standard, mid-sized planet in the Solar System inhabited by an estimated nine million different species of plants and animals. It is mostly isolationist and there have been few recorded interactions with intelligent life in history.

In the dim light of the bunk, he clutched the page, fingers shaking.

“That’s it?” he whispered aloud to no one at all.

Had he really expected more? Earth wasn’t even a speck of dust in proportion to everything else. Of course his planet wasn’t going to warrant an entire chapter, but two sentences?

Space was infinite, as far as anyone knew, but even after half a decade amidst the horrors and wonders of the greater universe, he still struggled to grasp the depth of what the word truly meant: infinite. 

Tony Stark was a facts and answers guy. He’d never had time for Schrodinger’s Cat or Eubulides’ Paradoxes. He had never had trouble understanding the theoretical concept of infinity. It was a neat little symbol to represent the idea of limitlessness rather than a numerical value. This math was simple: One Planet/An Infinite Universe = insignificant. If the calculations still worked out, what was the big deal? If the science was sound, why was this little thing so stirring?

You’ve finally found things that science can’t explain.

He slammed the book shut and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to purge the thoughts of laughing Pepper, Oscar-winning movie nights, and unsatisfactory guidebooks from his mind.

“Just one more month,” he muttered to the empty cabin.

And then what?

Month 4 – May 2023

The soft, steady hum of the ship's engines buzzed incessantly in Tony’s ear as he rested his warm cheek against the cold skin of his open fist, watching dispassionately as Peter hovered over a large map with a fluorescent pen and a pensive frown.

Tony had already finished his final shift in the kitchen, leaving him with nothing to do but watch as Peter completed the last of his advisory duties before a final debrief. The cafeteria was almost entirely empty, all crew members reporting to their assigned stations in preparation for the impending arrival, so the room echoed with each minute shift in the creaking chairs.

“There’s no way of knowing what effect the dusting will have had on the wildlife of the planet,” Peter mumbled to his map.

“Probably increased the number of trees.” Tony sighed into his hand. “God knows how many of those things humans ripped up in their time.”

Peter didn’t look up, chewing on the end of his highlighter absentmindedly.

“Maybe?” He shook his head furiously. “No, it didn’t seem like any flora was reduced in the places we went…”

“Ecosystems are unpredictable, Pete. It’s like a complicated engine. Take out a few parts and who knows what will happen?”

Peter’s eyes finally flickered up to meet Tony’s steady gaze.

“Great.” He made a face. “What am I supposed to tell the crew then? I don’t think a metaphor is going to help their mission.”

“It’s a good start?”

Peter sank lower into his seat. “This should be your job, Mister Stark.”

Tony waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, they like you more, kiddo. I’ve been told I can be prickly, uncommunicative, and...”

“Grumpy?” Peter volunteered. “Cantankerous? Unapproachable?”

“Nobody asked for a thesaurus, you twerp.” Tony flicked a crumb in his direction, pleased at the playful glimmer in the boy’s eyes.

The mechanical whirr of the doors opening made the pair turn to the entrance in time to see a uniform-clad engineer with grey skin and a squashed face that Tony vaguely recognized from Peter’s fan club slink in, approaching with cautious reverence.

“Sir,” the engineer called out just before reaching their table. “Sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed in the meeting room now. We’ll be approaching the moon shortly.”

“Of course.” Peter nodded, a serious mask falling into place. “I’ll be right there.”

The engineer quickly retreated, disappearing through the exit before anything else could be said. 

As the doors hissed shut, Tony turned back to Peter. “Sir,” he repeated. “I’m not sure if your head is going to fit through the doors of the ship by the time we leave.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed but he recovered fast enough to flash a cheeky grin.

“I’ll miss outranking you.”

"Nonsense." Tony scoffed. “I now have it on good authority that the lunch lady is always the most powerful person in the room.”

Peter pretended to consider his words carefully. “In that case, maybe you could put in a good word for me at the Stark Industries cafeteria? I could be your mentee again.”

Tony swallowed, suddenly finding less humor in the situation. He hadn’t forgotten the billion dollar business that could potentially be waiting for him on Earth, but the question—the one he could never quite bring himself to think about—was a little too close to the discussion topic.

“Or, you know, wherever you decide to work,” Peter quickly added.

Always so perceptive, that boy.

“I guess we just have to see what’s waiting for us down there.”

“Yeah.” Peter nodded, attention drifting back to his map before finally pressing his highlighter to the paper and circling a spot just above Uruguay before grabbing the cap and popping it back on the highlighter. “Well, I should probably go.”

“Of course, can’t leave your minions waiting.”

Peter laughed, folding up the map and shoving the highlighter into his pocket. He took a step towards the doors before pausing and turning back. “You know,” he said. “Space wasn’t so bad.”

Tony’s heart lurched. “Nah,” he replied through a thick lump in his throat. ‘It wasn’t.” 

They met eyes exchanging a meaningful, wordless conversation. When had the kid turned from the silly boy who padded after him like a puppy and loaded Happy’s inbox with chatter to this bright young man with the universe at his feet?

Tony cleared his throat and gave a mock salute. “Now run along to your important meeting, Sir,” he commanded. “I’ll go find a dish to scrub or something equally vital to our mission.”

Peter let out a bark of laughter. “Man your station, underling,” he replied in a comically deep voice.

He tucked the map under his arm before spinning on his heel and marching to the exit in military fashion.

“Sir, yes Sir,” Tony called after him.

Years ago, if someone had told Tony he would be afraid of being left alone by the people he loved, he would’ve brushed it off with dry wit and enough drink to mask the burn of the truth. Now, he just stuck to the dry wit. He may have developed better coping mechanisms during his inter-galactic sabbatical, but some things even years of time and light-years of space couldn’t change.

The doors slid shut and he was alone again.

_____

A quick sweep of the cafeteria revealed that he really didn’t have any more tasks to do, removing the tried and true distraction of mindless labor from his toolbox of preoccupations.

Nevertheless, he meandered between the tables. Wiping crumbs onto the floor and trying not to think about billion-dollar businesses or scotch whiskey or whether or not there would be any trees to welcome them home.

He had just gone over a table for the fourth time when the ship intercom crackled to life.

“Lunar landing in sixty Earth seconds.”

His hand hovered above the spotless table, suddenly trembling. All of the feelings he had been pushing aside for the last four months flooded back. Five years of life gone in an instant, leaving only sixty seconds before the end of the journey of a lifetime. 

He let the cloth fall from his grip and spun around to the exit. Peter should be done with his presentation by now, maybe the kid would come find him.

“Come on, Stark,” he muttered. “Enough waiting.”

_____

Tony navigated the tangle of hallways mindlessly, neck prickling at the eerie lack of crew members marching from station to station. He had known landing this large of a ship on the surface of a relatively small moon would be an all-hands-on-deck situation, but to see it in practice was completely different.

His wandering and weaving eventually led to a small door nestled at the dead end of a hallway with a small sign that Tony knew read VIEWING PLATFORM. The space was so far removed from the action, the only audible sounds were the creaking pipes and the echo of his footsteps. Hopefully Peter would know where to look.

He twisted the handle and stepped into the room, eyes trained on the floor as he let the door click shut behind him. The far wall of the small room was filled entirely by a thick pane of glass that Tony couldn’t bring himself to look at.

Stop pretending this isn’t happening ! he shouted at himself. Look up you idiot. Look up in three, two, one…

Outside of the window, grey powdery slopes stretched ahead until sharply disappearing into blackness. Above the barren landscape a single half lit sphere broke through the darkness, leaving Tony reeling with a feeling he had almost forgotten—familiarity.

For a moment, he was convinced that all the air had been sucked from the room. Had a window punctured? Wordlessly, he sank to his knees, jaw slack in awe at the little blue rock in the distance, overcome with a wave of emotion too powerful to fully process.

“One small step for mankind,” a voice came from the doorway. 

Tony hadn’t forgotten the feeling of familiarity after all, because that was a voice that he would know anywhere.

“If this is one small step,” he said, turning to watch as Peter stepped quietly into the room, “what the hell do you call the last five years?”

A small smile played across the boy’s lips and he offered a shrug. “One...kind of big step?”

He snorted. “I like it.”

“I slipped away right after handing in my report,” Peter explained, sinking down to sit at his side. “I thought we should see this together.”

“I’m glad.”

“I did catch a glimpse in a window on the way here, but I can pretend like I didn’t if it makes it more special.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

Neither spoke for a while, both marveling at the ghostly scene spread out before them. Somewhere on that swirly blue marble was the answer to the questions they hadn’t dared to speak aloud for years. 

Finally Peter turned back to Tony. “It’s all down there,” he said, his voice barely coming out a whisper.

“Yeah, I know.”

“It’s so…” Peter trailed off.

Tony nodded, letting understanding pass between them.

“I’ve seen a lot of planets now, kid,” he finally said. “Tell me if I’m crazy, but I think ours actually holds up.”

“You’re definitely crazy,” Peter answered, “but it really does.”

Chapter Text

May 2023

The descent to the Earth’s surface was quick and efficient. The whirlwind of barked directions and rigid procedure swept Tony away as they were ushered to an exit port and strapped into a windowless, unmanned landing pod set for an undisclosed location. It was all he could do to keep a firm grip on Peter’s forearm as they plummeted through the planet’s atmosphere towards the unknowable future.

The physical contact wasn’t enough. He watched Peter with laser precision the entire way down. The boy’s stoic façade was betrayed only by bleach-white knuckles against the harness and the stiffness of his spine pressing into the back of the seat. Several times throughout the descent, Tony opened his mouth to offer words of encouragement, but they always got lost, unable to be coherently strung together between his brain and the thin air.

The pod lurched with a dull thud and a hissing came from the ceiling.

“Stand clear of automatic doors,” a smooth, robotic voice announced, filling Tony’s chest with a throbbing hum. Earth was already all around them, just outside the pod.

The far wall receded and natural light flooded the pod along with an onslaught of dry air. They had officially arrived.

A strangled cough escaped from Tony’s throat and his heart pounded. The click of the harness automatically unlocking rang in his ear, but he was too stunned to move, let alone stand. The gravity. It pressed on his spine in such a specific way, as if the Earth was clutching him to its surface and begging him to never leave again. 

“Aw, come on!” the most familiar voice in the universe cut through the fog. “Another desert?!”

Tony blinked and suddenly Peter was standing in front of him, a hand extended and an expectant look on his young face.

“You good?” Peter confirmed.

Shaking off the last of the trance, Tony nodded, accepting the assistance and swinging to his feet. They stood in silence for a beat, neither able to make the first move towards the exit.

Through the opening, a world he had never expected to see again stretched endlessly ahead. Hues of red and brown clashed violently with a sky of unmarred baby blue, colors he once knew as earth-tones and sky-blue. So that’s why we called them that.

Tony let out a breathy laugh, his gaze sweeping across the land ahead. “Jesus Christ.” 

“I know,” Peter agreed, slowly shaking his head as he surveyed their surroundings.

“What the hell just happened?”

“In the past five minutes or the past five years?”

“Take your pick.” 

“A whole lot of crazy.”

“God, kid. It’s so…” he trailed off, letting the eerie hush of the empty landscape wash over them.

The way the light reflected off of each grain of sand, the exact bend of every shadow, the specific sound of wind brushing across the plains—it was all of the minute details that he had never realized were unique to the planet Earth. He could have spent hours swaying in the pod, taking note of the way life on Earth happened in its own incomparable way.

“Mister Stark,” Peter said. “We should probably get up before the pod goes back to the ship.”

“Yeah, yeah." He shook his head, forcing himself back into logistics mode. "You’re probably right.”

“One kinda-big step, yeah?” Peter’s voice wavered through his forced grin. “Then we can go watch Gravity and critique its accuracy.”

“No space movies,” Tony groaned. “Ever again.” Despite his mock exasperation, the attempt at humor bolstered his resolve enough to square his shoulders and add, “But what d'ya know kid? We both turned out to be Sandra Bullock after all.”

_____

It ended up taking three kinda-big steps to exit the landing pod. As his travel-worn boot touched the dusty Earth, Tony held his breath, waiting for the enormity of the action to sink in. It never did.

Peter stepped forward as well, neck craning at the rocky horizon where cacti and shriveled shrubbery dotted the yellow-orange sand. With a lurch, Tony noticed a line of black snaking through the sprawling desert. A road. Human civilization. Or at least the remnants of it.

Peter’s voice interrupted his contemplation. “How rude of them not to roll out the red carpet.” 

“I’m sure something very important came up.”

The weight of the air pressed in and Tony inhaled fully for the first time, pausing when something in his mind prickled.

“Do you smell that?” he asked, taking another breath to try to understand why something as natural as breathing was throwing him for a loop.

Peter sniffed loudly and shrugged. “Drought?”

“No, it’s…can’t think of a way to describe it.”

"Peter tilted his head thoughtfully. “I think I know what you mean. It’s kind of like...how every house has its own smell, but you can’t tell what your own smells like. But then you take a really long trip and smell a lot of other places, and when you come home you can suddenly smell your own house.”

He finished with an or-something-like-that gesture.

“Damn, kid. You should charge for those kinds of observations.”

“I have my moments.” Peter smiled, clearly pleased by the praise. “Now that we’ve gotten our smells straight, what’s next?”

Tony looked to the road cutting across the land. It disappeared behind a jagged rock formation that jutted out of the flat desert.

“Figuring out where on God's beige Earth we are? Any guesses?”

“Rocks, dirt, sand…” Peter mused. “We could be anywhere. Nearly every continent on the planet has something like this. Mojave in America, Gobi in Mongolia, the Australian Outback.”

“Glad to see you retained some geography facts.”

Peter looked back sheepishly. “I had a map thing for a little while.”

“Well.” Tony sighed. “We don’t exactly have a GPS, so I think we’ll just have to walk and see if there are any markings on the road to narrow it down.”

Peter grimaced, but shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around his waist.

“Sure,” he said bravely. “We already came a billion miles, what’s a few more?”

Tony couldn’t help but smile. “That's my boy.” 

_____

The tar on the road was acrid and the dust wafted in gentle waves. The dry heat prickled against the cool sweat on the exposed skin on the back of Tony’s neck as he trudged along the empty highway. Earth was a true medley of contrasts.

Peter kicked at a large pebble and watched as it tumbled into the loose dirt bordering the road. He was several paces ahead and still in fairly high spirits.

“I kind of feel like I should start singing now,” he called back. 

“You do that and I’ll go lay down in that ditch over there and take my chances in the desert.”

Peter threw back his head in laughter. “I thought you kept me around this long for my entertainment skills.”

“Like a court jester? Don’t sell yourself short, Pete. You’re at least a beloved pet.”

Peter looked back and grinned, sticking his tongue out.

“I’m not the one trailing behind like a-” Peter started to fire back, but his eyes shifted, clearly catching on something in the distance and the smile quickly faded. “Mister Stark,” he said softly, stopping in his tracks and shading his eyes with both hands, “I think I see something”

Tony spun around. “Oh.”

He didn't have to ask what Peter had spotted. A small cloud of dust was moving along the faded asphalt—probably several miles back—far too quickly for any living creature on the planet.

“A car,” Peter whispered. “A person...What do we do?”

“I–”

“Should we ask for a ride?”

“No,” he quickly dismissed.

Peter frowned. “Are you sure? We don’t know how much farther away civilization is.”

“We also don’t know who the driver is. We didn’t come all this way to become a true crime double feature.”

“So should we stay on the road and just…hide? Hope they don’t stop?”

Suddenly, Tony was five years in the past, sitting in the pilot seat of a borrowed spaceship, staring down a long, arduous journey, faced with the impossible choices of staying on course or diverting from the path. The latter had worked out back then, but there was no guarantee it would succeed a second time.

The sun sat high in the sky, baking the summer afternoon with a ferocity which did little to alleviate the weight of Tony’s deliberation. He opened his mouth, unsure of what words would spill out of it.

“We keep walking. If someone stops us we face them.” 

He had changed. They had changed. It was time to stop running.

_____

The pair forged on, constantly throwing glances over their shoulders as the gap between them and the dust cloud closed.

“I can’t tell if it’s slowing down,” Peter observed nervously.

The car had finally come close enough that Tony could tell it was black and fairly small but not close enough to discern the make and model.

“Just keep going.”

The rumble of the engine grew louder until it was no more than 100 feet back. He kept his head down, muttering the silent prayer that he hadn’t made the wrong choice.

“Wait,” Peter hissed, stopping Tony mid-step. “Mister Stark, I think it’s going to stop.”

“Get closer to me,” he quickly instructed, “and don’t do anything stupid.”

The deafening crunch of rubber on asphalt crackled from behind and Tony couldn’t help but turn around. A shiny black sedan was in throwing distance and rapidly decelerating. It rolled past at barely a crawl, coming to a sharp halt five feet in ahead and effectively cutting them off from the rest of the highway. 

No way forward but through. It was time to face the music.

The driver’s tinted window rolled down and before Tony could assess the speaker, a voice rang out.

“Hey!” 

The sound echoed across the desert. Harsh H, distinct twang on the vowels. English, American, he noted with a thrill, already forgetting to keep his guard up.

A head poked out and Tony felt like he was breathing in Earth’s atmosphere for the first time all over again. The driver was unassuming—brunette, female, middle aged—but she was human. The distance between her two eyes and singular nose, the peachy tones of her skin, and the way she regarded them with wild suspicion confirmed it. 

Peter let out a strangled breath and Tony pulled him closer, though he was more mildly suspicious than actually concerned. It felt wrong to think, but from his assessment, the two of them could take her if things came to a fight.

The woman, still leaning out of her car window, squinted at the pair before pointing towards the desert.

“Did you guys just show up over there?” she asked, a strange edge to her voice.

Silence.

“Hello?” The woman opened her door and stepped onto the highway, keeping a comfortable distance between them and herself. “Did you come from over there? Ustedes de Mexico ? Hablas español?"

At his side, Peter opened and closed his mouth like a fish on a hook, a reminder that Tony was supposed to be leading. He stepped forward, keeping the boy firmly behind him, and cleared his throat.

“Yes?”

The woman’s hands flew to her mouth and she recoiled, bracing herself against the car.

“Oh my god,” she whispered.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s really real…”

Tony took a cautious step forward. He was still fairly confident the woman wasn’t a threat, but something about their appearance clearly had her thoroughly spooked. It had been a while since he’d been on Earth, but two bedraggled strangers wandering on the side of a desert highway couldn’t have gotten any less weird. Or maybe it had.

“What’s real?” he pressed gently.

“I didn’t believe it at first,” she continued, shaking her head in disbelief, “but they were saying...the Avengers...”

Tony glanced at Peter who mouthed The Avengers? It had been a long time since they heard that word.

Of course, he thought with a jolt. She recognized me.

Five years of being nobody and he’d forgotten he was famous. How had he not seen this coming? The last thing he wanted was reports of his return going public before getting the chance to figure out if any of his loved ones had made it. Plus, there was the addition of Peter in his life and the kid deserved so much better than being swept up in all of this.

He smothered his discomfort with an easygoing, PR chuckle that felt foreign. 

“Yeah,” he began carefully. “About that.”

“It’s all been so tragic,” the woman lamented, “ but to think there’s finally some hope…”

“Uh, lady...”

She looked up, her face dropping in sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I’m being rude. You must be so confused.”

“We’re really seriously good.” Tony held up his hands defensively. “I promise. If you could just-”

“Please, just let me give you a ride to town.”

“Oh, no. We’re fine.”

“No, no, It’s only about 10 miles North of here. It's nothing in a car but that far on foot in this heat? That's dangerous. I can explain everything on the way.”

“It’s seriously fine-”

“I insist. I don’t normally give rides to strange men on the side of the road,” she laughed, “but I think this is the day for exceptions.”

“You really-”

“I mean, this is a day the entire world is never going to forget.”

“The entire world?” Peter muttered, turning to Tony and whispering. “Mister Stark, I think she thinks...”

“Oh.” The woman looked at Peter with even more pity than she had him. “I don’t know how to even begin to explain what’s happened, but…”

Tony had been told once or twice that he exhibited narcissistic tendencies, but even he had just enough self awareness to pause. Perhaps she didn’t recognize them at all.

Then it hit him.

She thinks everyone has somehow come back from...the dust.

He felt sick. How cruel to be given false hope only for it to be snatched away by a washed out, middle-aged castaway and his kid. 

Couldn’t even die right.

“Ma’am,” Peter began carefully. “I think there might be some kind of misunderstanding here.”

“No, you don’t understand…” She glanced around the barren landscape as if hoping someone else would materialize and speak for her. “Something terrible happened a while ago.”

Silence. 

“Oh,” she moaned, burying her head in her hands. “I’m messing this up, aren’t I?”

“It’s alright,” Tony soothed, cautiously stepping forward another foot. “Just take it slow, alright?”

“And now you’re trying to comfort me !”

“It’s seriously alright,” said Peter.

“Five years ago,” she tried again, “half of the world population disappeared at once, turned to dust.”

“Um…” Peter said. “I don’t–”

The rest of the words spilled out of her like an uncontrollable fountain. “I’m so sorry. It’s been five years since that happened and you’ve been dead the entire time.”

More silence. A tumbleweed could’ve rolled through the plains and it would’ve been like a scene from a dramatic standoff in an old Hollywood Western.

“No,” Tony said. “Lady…”

“My name is Katherine, by the way.” She offered a shaky smile. “It is so nice to meet you two.”

“Katherine,” he quickly corrected, dreading the words he was about to say. “You’ve got it wrong. We weren’t–”

“They said it on the news and–”

“Wait, the news?” Peter cut in.

“-I just thought, that can’t be true! But now…here you are! What were your names again? I’m so sorry I keep being rude.”

“W-what did you say about the news?” Tony pressed.

How could the news possibly know of his return so quickly?

“The return. The reception isn’t the best out here but they’ve been talking about it on the radio for the past hour.”

“Can you turn it on?”

“I think we’re in a pretty clear patch.” Katherine nodded fervently, already rushing back to her car. “I’ll just-”

She jumped across the passenger's seat, and crawled into the driver's seat. Tony hurried to stand in the open doorway with Peter by his side.

“-dark period of our time could finally be reaching a shocking conclusion. Reports of fire station’s across the East Coast rushing to upstate New York where the famous Avenger’s compound is reported to be clouded by smoke and flames. The list of casualties is unreleased, but with the sudden return of our lost population, I’m sure there will be more to come.”

“Holy shit,” Peter breathed.

“Katherine?”

The woman looked up, eyes brimming with emotion. “Yes?”

“I’m Tony. This is Peter. I think we’ll take you up on that ride now.”

_____

They drove into town without talking, just listening as reports of the unthinkable flooded in.

The details were unclear, even to the reporters on the radio, but several confirmed facts were repeated over and over: something had happened in New York, the Avengers were involved, the people who had turned to dust five years ago were returning. Tony kept glancing to the back of the car where Peter sat, staring out the window as the red, dusty Earth flew past. Nevada, Katherine had informed them. They had landed just forty miles West of Las Vegas.

As they grew closer to civilization, cracked road signs and rusted vehicles began dotting the landscape. Tony initially dismissed the weathered appearance of their surroundings as a product of harsh climate, then they rolled into their destination.

“This should be the place,” Katherine announced, pointing to an exit so overgrown with shrubbery that the name of the town was unreadable.

They veered off the highway and were greeted by what could only be described as a ghost town—the difference being that this ghost town was actually crawling with ghosts. As they drove past an intersection, through the tinted windows, Tony could see at least dozens of people milling about along the road. Three workmen wearing hard hats and reflective vests stood by a fallen stop sign despite no visible construction in the area. A woman knelt on the sidewalk with her head in her hands, an empty babybjörn strapped to her chest.

“It’s really real,” Peter whispered, leaning forward in his seat, neck craning to see out of every window. “They really all came back.”

Other than the occasional sleepless night, Tony hadn’t thought about the little things that would come of such a huge catastrophe. He and Peter had spent the first three years post-apocalypse in remote areas fairly untouched by the damage before moving to Sakaar, a place so bizarre he’d never questioned how the loss of half of the population had affected the cityscape.

They turned down a side street and found themselves in a parking lot under a rusting marquee letter sign reading:  AR  ENT LS HERE

“Maps says this place was a rental car spot,” Katherine said, slowing to a stop in front of the cracked glass door. “Businesses have been a real hit or miss these days so there’s no telling whether or not this place is still running.”

Tony regarded the boarded up windows. “I’m going to go with not.”

Katherine made a noise of agreement and tapped on her steering wheel thoughtfully.

“We can try Las Vegas,” she offered. “A lot of survivors moved to big cities after...you know. I’m sure we could get you a car there.”

“Don’t you think bigger cities will mean bigger chaos?” Peter said.

“You’re probably right,” she sighed. “Are you sure there’s no one I can call? The phone numbers never got disconnected. If everyone has returned-”

“No,” Tony said quickly.

He didn’t know why the idea was too much for him, but he wasn’t ready to hear from anyone from his past just yet. Speaking to one human stranger already had him reeling.

Katherine hesitated. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” he said firmly. “Actually, you can let us out here and we’ll figure it out. If the lot really is abandoned, it can’t be too much of a crime to take one of these cars, right?”

“I- I suppose…”

“Perfect. It’s settled.”

“Are you sure I can’t do anything else? Do you even know how to hotwire a car?”

“I’m good with machines.”

“He really is,” Peter volunteered.

Katherine bit her lip, looking between Peter, Tony, and the neglected lot.

“O-okay,” she said, “but at least let me give you something to get you started.”

Leaning into the back, she grabbed a small leather purse and rummaged inside.

“It’s gotta be somewhere–oh!”

She procured a thin wallet and thumbed through it, pulling out several creased $20 bills.

“Here.” She pressed the money in Tony’s direction. “This should at least get you a few tanks of gas.”

“No,” Tony said instinctively, putting his hands up in protest. “We can’t take your money.”

She shoved the bills into his open palms. “Don’t be a hero.” 

“I’m really not trying to be a–”

“If not for me, do it for your boy.”

Tony huffed, unsure of how to respond. He knew she was right. They didn’t have any Earth currency, let alone American dollars. They couldn’t refuse charity. Not yet, anyways.

He grudgingly let his fingers wrap around the bills and shoved them in his pocket.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly. “I–I have money at home...I think. I’ll pay you back.”

She shook her head. “Now isn’t the time for debts, Tony. It’s a gift.”

“But-”

“No buts.”

They exchanged a long, heavy silence before Tony unbuckled his seatbelt.

“If you say so,” he lied, mentally planning to memorize her license plate numbers. “Come on, Pete.”

They exited the car and walked around to the drivers side for a final goodbye to their savior.

“Thanks,” Peter said. “Without you, this guy probably would’ve gotten us impaled on a cactus by now.”

“Hey!” 

“No worries,” promised Katherine, laughing softly. “Really. Keep your dad safe, okay?” 

Peter nodded solemnly. “Always.”

The woman observed them warmly for a moment longer.

“Goodbye Tony, Peter. Welcome back to the world”

“Bye.”

“Take care.”

She kept her window down as she shifted the gear into drive and fluttered her fingers, starting to pull away. Tony turned to Peter.

“I don’t appreciate the lack of confidence, kid,” he joked. “We would’ve been fine.”

“Sure, Mister Stark. Keep telling yourself that.”

A sharp inhale came from the already moving car.

“Stark,” he heard over the rumble of the engine. “Tony…Stark. No fucking way. ”

He tensed, worried the woman would turn around and demand her money back or force a mountain of uncomfortable questions on him, but the car kept moving and he was just able to make out Katherine’s perplexed face peering back at them as she disappeared down the worn road, leaving them alone in the sea of abandoned cars.

“Oh yeah,” Peter said as if it were an afterthought. “You’re famous here.”

Chapter Text

May 2023

The red paint of the car was faded and peeling, the bumper sagged ever so slightly, and the smell of rust was overpowering, but the vehicle seemed sturdy enough. Most importantly, the engine was old enough that they wouldn’t have to worry about bypassing complex computer systems without the proper tools.

Peter stood several feet away with his arms crossed tightly around his chest, regarding the vehicle with heavy suspicion.

“Is now a bad time to mention that I don’t know how to drive?”

“Just get in,” Tony sighed. “I can handle it from here.”

“I’ll be moral support, I promise.”

“It’s a good thing I love you, kid.”

Peter hummed. “Back at you.”

Tony rolled his eyes, despite the familiar warmth settling in his chest. “Cut the flattery and get in the damn car.”

“Alright, Alright!” Peter came to rest against the beat-up passenger door, grinning cheekily. “I can try and navigate?”

“There’s a few thousand miles between here and New York,” Tony called ahead, strolling to the driver's side. “By the time we make it, you’re going to learn how to drive this hunk of garbage if it’s the last thing I do.”

“I’m not going to be held responsible for any damages.”

“I doubt you can do anything to this thing that its previous owners haven’t already done before.” 

“I could also offer entertainment,” Peter suggested. “I can sing.”

“I’m not above leaving you in this desert.”

And so began the beginning of the end of the end.

_____

Tony thrummed his fingers against the rough leather of the steering wheel, bobbing his head rhythmically to the warped drum beat crackling through the ancient dashboard radio. 

The warm highway wind slapped against his face and he wistfully recalled his old favorite sunglasses. Between the glaring sun and the powerful gusts, he could use a bit of protective gear.

Peter’s hand hung out of his window, making waves in the air and humming along to the classic rock station that Tony had insisted they listen to, because I still have a thing or two to teach you before we get back.

Tony resisted the urge to roll up the windows or warn him of the dangers of flying debris. New habits die hard too, he supposed. 

They had gotten the car running fairly quickly and found themselves on the dusty Nevada roads before either could spare a thought to what came next. Their destination lay in the East, but with no phone or maps, it was all a guessing game, following old highway signs and avoiding cities as much as possible as they blindly forged their way through the heart of the American South-West. 

At some point they had crossed into Arizona, but the landscape remained dry and rocky, only a tattered billboard alerting them to the change as they crept onward. The gas meter was alerting them that a stop would soon be necessary. Thankfully, they’d had the foresight to siphon a few tanks full from the rental lot to make their limited funds last.

“Hey,” Peter interrupted Tony’s planning, pointing through the windshield. “Look at that.”

Just ahead, another shabby sign jutted from the sand, shimmering in the heat of the summer sun.

GRAND CANYON THIS WAY -> FOR BIG FUN

“At least we know we’re not heading the wrong direction,” Tony said.

“That would’ve been really embarrassing.”

The billboard passed by in a blur of faded colors, leaving nothing but the rust-colored open road ahead. 

“I used to always want to go there,” Peter commented offhandedly. 

“It does say it’s for big fun.”

Peter laughed. “With advertising like that, who could resist?”

Tony made a noise of agreement, absentmindedly toying with the turn signal. Peter resumed his hand-waving and their shabby little car kept rumbling along the highway.

“We could go.”

Peter stopped mid-wave and his head snapped towards the driver’s seat. “Seriously?” 

“When else will we be in the area?” Tony had said it without thinking, but the second the words left his mouth, his mind had flashed to New York City and all that awaited them and he meant it even more. “Who are we to turn down big fun?”

“I mean…that is true.”

“Come on, Pete,” he insisted. “We’re seasoned travellers by now, aren’t we? They always say it’s good to be a tourist in your own home.”

“Okay.” Peter said hesitantly. “Sure, why not? Let’s go.”

_____

Tony had been to the Grand Canyon National Park once, a lifetime ago. His parents had brought him on a some consolation trip for a missed birthday, Christmas, or Easter. From what he remembered, the park had been hot, crowded, and hellishly dusty.

Several hours and a quick stop to refuel had brought them to the edge of the towering rocky red cliffs and he was surprised to find that, like everywhere else they had been on Earth, the parts of the canyon that had been carved away for human use carried an air of abandonment and neglect.

“I guess the death and subsequent return of half of the population means that tourism took a backseat,” Peter remarked.

“A bonus for us.” Tony shrugged, leaning against the rickety railing to take a look at the thousand foot drop. 

The silver river shone harshly against the midday light and they stood in companionable silence, watching the sun sink behind the rocks. 

“I guess people will probably start showing up again now that the dusting was reversed.” Peter said.

“Probably.”

“How do you think they got them back?”

“Science?” Tony guessed. “Magic? Sheer force of will?” 

“You really think those things are enough to save the entire universe?”

“For normal people maybe not, but you’ve fought them before. Those idiots can’t bring themselves to give up no matter how damn impossible the odds are.” 

“True,” Peter conceded. “You were like that too.”

“Nah, I’m too selfish. You on the other hand…”

Peter turned away from the stunning views to fix him with an unreadable expression.

“What?” Tony demanded.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Peter said. “That you couldn’t save the world if it came to it.”

For a moment, Tony let himself imagine a lifetime where Peter had been lost with the others on Titan. A world where he hadn’t decided to veer off course and fling himself into the messy, beautiful, amazing depths universe. Maybe that Tony would have made his way back to Earth, sick with grief for a kid he barely knew. Maybe that Tony would save the universe.

Tony shifted under the steady gaze, dragging his fingers along the course stone ridges of the overlook. “I don’t know, kid. Life is complicated.”

Peter snorted. “Okay, now that I can get behind.” 

When the first pinpricks of stars became visible, they forced themselves to turn away from the shadowy canyon and get back on the road, allowing the bright beams of headlights to light their way forward.

_____

The side-trip had shifted something fundamental in their journey. On the third day of travel, they ended up stopping again. This time, at a festival in Santa Fe, New Mexico. 

The entire city was celebrating the return of “The Blipped” as people were beginning to call those who had turned to dust and subsequently been brought back. Live music wafted through the sweltering summer air and people joyfully danced in the streets—a far cry from the confusion and chaos in the remote Nevada town hundreds of miles back. 

Peter had been thrilled to see the sights and sounds and Tony had been more than happy to relish in the boy’s infectious joy, padding after him through the lively crowds, even sparing a precious few dollars to purchase an ice cream from a jovial vendor.

Nobody recognized billionaire-superhero Tony Stark, whether due to his changed appearance, the impossibility of his presence, or people’s complete lack of interest in those around them amidst the celebrations. Being surrounded by humans again felt, for the very first time in Tony’s life, absolutely right. 

As they rolled back onto the highway the next morning with the sun beaming through the open windows and the radio crackling merrily, Tony’s heart was light and he sang along to the rock music at the top of his lungs.

_____

“GAH!” Tony’s hand shot to the grab handle as the vehicle violently jerked to a halt. “Peter Parker, I swear to God.” 

“Sorry!” came Peter’s meek response from his hunched position at the steering wheel.

The smell of gasoline and tar hung in the parched air of a New Mexico gas station. They had left behind the rocky landscapes and were now making their way through miles of flat, brown grass stretching infinitely into the horizon. 

Tony closed his eyes, taking a steadying breath to send a thank-you to any deity listening that they had reached their switch-off point safely. “You have superhuman reflexes and a genius IQ. How can your parking possibly be this awful?”

“I told you I didn’t know how to drive!”

“You helped me fly a spaceship!”

“And we crashed every time. I think this one might be on you, Mister Stark.”

Tony shot a burning glare to the side. “Seriously?”

Peter had the decency to look sheepish. “If it makes you feel any better, we technically stole this car so you aren’t losing any money.”

“I’m less worried about the money and more worried about making it to Manhattan with all of my limbs.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic,” Peter huffed. “We were fine that hour I drove after Santa Fe.”

“I don’t like the way the engine sounds when you drive.”

“That’s how it always sounds. This car sucks.”

“Regardless, I’m driving at least until Oklahoma City.”

Peter frowned, running a finger along the worn steering wheel, pursing his lips. “About that…”

“I’m not negotiating with you on this, kid,” Tony insisted.

“No, no. You can drive. I was just thinking that we could cut South a little. I heard Texas highways are better, you know. Smoother.”

Peter’s proposed diversion was followed two days later by a suggestion of Tony’s to continue following a scenic coastal highway all the way to Florida, because i95 is actually faster, kid. I know these things.

Somewhere between the ghost-like Main Streets of small-town Texas and the sweeping Live Oaks of Louisiana, both of the travelers began to realize they were stalling, though neither had the heart to say it out loud. They were all too content to keep driving and joking and laughing their way across the country as the world put itself back together around them. 

It wasn’t until seven days after leaving the dusty Nevada desert, upon reaching the end of the Eastbound interstate, that they were forced to acknowledge what they’d done.

_____

The skyline of downtown Jacksonville rose above the tangled mess of highway like a warning beacon. Green signs hanging overhead declared their options in bold white lettering: Exit left to continue North towards Savannah, keep right to go South towards Daytona Beach. 

Tony knew that the sweat on his forehead was only partially a result of the practically drinkable Florida air. He was fully aware what the signs meant for them: Forge ahead on their journey or delay the inevitable for a little while longer.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. One look at Peter proved that the impending decision hadn’t escaped either of their notices. His companion’s eyes were glued to the road ahead with obvious apprehension, only making Tony’s heart pound faster.

Come on, Tony. Turn your blinker on and exit left. 

He passed under the sign and a clammy finger crept towards the turn signal.

You can do it, Stark. Playtime is over. Time to go home.

In his peripheral vision, Peter leaned forward, clearly aware of the decision that was about to be made.

The kid deserves to go home.

His finger fell back onto the wheel and he watched as the Northbound exit flew past.

“Two roads diverged in a humid swamp…” Peter said, tone indecipherable.

“I couldn’t.” The words came out a strangled whisper. 

“I get it.”

“Really?” Tony said incredulously. “Because I sure as hell don’t. Care to share with the class?”

“I didn’t mean–” Peter cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head. In his periphery, Tony could see the kid drop his head against the headrest and squeezed his eyes shut. He stayed like that for a stretch just long enough that Tony started to think he was giving him the cold shoulder before Peter's eyes flew open and he sat up straight. “You know what? Let’s go to the beach.”

“The beach?”

Peter gestured out the window where a palm tree waved lazily in front of a peeling billboard. “We’re in Florida. I can’t believe I’m saying this, it honestly might be some kind of Stockholm Syndrome, but I kind of miss the sand.”

“You sure?”

Peter shrugged. “Might as well say we made it all the way to the East Coast, right?”

“Alright,” Tony said, catching sight of a sign advertising a coastal highway exit. “Beach it is.”

_____

They blindly followed street signs through the overgrown city until finally turning down a mangrove-lined street that forced Tony to pull over to avoid popping the car tires on jagged sea rock. From there, they followed the roaring sound of waves until hitting a towering dune.

Halfway up, Tony’s foot caught hold of something. The air flew from his lungs as he slipped forward, crashing face first in the sand with a shout.

“Jesus!” he heard Peter cry. “You good, Mister Stark?”

He groaned, rolling onto his back and a cloudless blue sky greeted him from above.

“I’m good,” he responded through gritted teeth. “My pride hurts more than anything else.”

He heard Peter’s peals of laughter and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Don’t be a quitter,” Peter taunted down the dune.

“This isn’t me quitting. I’m resting.”

The sounds of shuffling came from above and when he cracked an eye open he saw Peter hanging over him.

“Remember that planet with the heavy blue sand?”

“You never forget your second alien planet.”

“We fell down those dunes like four times.”

“And look at us now. Five years and a billion miles later, and we’re still falling down dunes of goddamn sand.”

“Technically, I didn’t fall down anything,” Peter said innocently, earning him a fistfull of sand. “Hey!”

“Help me up, twerp.”

“Whatever, old man.”

With each other’s help, they soon reached the top of the pile of sand and the world spread out in front of them.

“Woah,” Peter breathed. “We actually made it.”

It was fitting, Tony thought, that the ocean looked like the end of the Earth. Waves crashed against the flat sand and receded back into the blue abyss, reaching as far as the eye could see.

The pair walked across the surface in a trancelike state, kicking off their shoes and stopping only when the water lapped at their bare toes. It was serene, beautiful, and absolutely heart wrenching.

“Pete,” Tony interrupted the silence, his voice already wavering. “We have to go to New York.”

Peter dragged his foot across the wet sand, staring intently at the line it left behind.

“I know,” he said, and Tony was struck for the hundredth time how wise the kid had grown. If he’d had an ounce of the emotional maturity Peter had in his early twenties, he could’ve had the life he’d dreamed of decades earlier.

“We can still enjoy the beach right now though.” 

“True,” Peter mused.

“And we have the entire drive North.”

“Mhmm.”

“So we don’t need to worry about anything just yet.”

“They offered a permanent job on the ship.”

A pause.

“Oh.” 

The waves sounded as if they were crashing directly into Tony’s eardrums. Peter nodded, dropping down to his knees and sifting through the sand.

“Do you want it?” Tony asked, voice blank.

“I don’t know.”

Tony considered asking about May, Peter’s friends, all of those people very likely sitting in New York waiting for their Spider-Man to come home. Then thought back to the past week of travel, when Peter had been every bit as willing to put off the return as he was.

He lowered himself onto the sand, unbothered by the salt water soaking into his pants.

“So we go.”

“Go where?”

“To New York, first. Then, if you want, Sakaar...or Mars or Contraxia or wherever the hell they send you.”

Peter looked up, expression unreadable. “You want to come.”

“I made a great lunch lady, didn’t I?”

The mask of indifference receded and Tony could finally see just how much the decision had been weighing on his boy. It made his heart ache.

“Mister Stark...you have a life here.”

“Do I? When we got sucked into that space ship, I wasn’t exactly leaving behind the planet on good terms. Half of my friends were fugitives and it was my fault.”

“Pepper?”

“Has been alive this whole time,” he reminded. “We saw her in that old newspaper in Louisiana. Managing the company from some cabin upstate and keeping out of the public eye. She probably wised up and found a new man who's a thousand times better than I am and almost half as good as she is.”

“You think she’d be okay with you ditching her?”

He ignored the challenge. “We’ll let them know we’re alive first. We’ll let everyone that matters know. The world made it half a decade without me and it's still mostly standing. I think they'll cope.”

“You would say goodbye to your entire life...for me?”

“In a heartbeat.”

He didn’t mention that he had already said goodbye to that life two years ago when he decided to leave G4R-10C and flee to Sakaar. Or, if he was being honest, five years ago when he made the decision to go deeper into space.

Peter let his head fall into Tony’s side and they sat for a while on the empty beach at the end of the world.

“It won’t be easy,” Peter said from under Tony’s arm.

“We were never great at easy.”

“We might never come back home.”

“Home can change. It’s not just a place. Earth was home, but that doesn’t mean it always will be.”

A small smile crossed Peter’s face.

“So...we chose home.”

“Home.”

“Do you want to wait and watch the sunset?”

Tony shook his head. “Nah, I think we’ve seen enough sunsets. Let’s get back on the road.”

An hour later, when they were back on the road, he found that merging onto the Northbound interstate wasn’t nearly as scary as he’d thought it would be.

Chapter Text

May 2023

“It’s a rainy summer day here in the great state of New York. Things are a little quieter here after the week and a half of chaos and we’re now starting to hear a new question being asked. Just when is the world going back to normal?”

“Journalism,” Tony scoffed, pushing down the lump in his chest as a sign announcing the exit to Staten Island went overhead. “Always harping on the weather and the next shiny thing. Glad to see some things never change.”

He had minimal expectations for a response. Peter had started peeling off bits of the car upholstery the moment they had entered New Jersey and hadn’t said a word after their first glimpse of skyscrapers in the horizon.

To Tony, New York had always just been the place where he owned a building. Most of his childhood had been spent in California or at his family’s various vacation homes around the world, so there was little childhood nostalgia attached to the densely-packed streets and too-busy people they were hurtling towards. The city had only been his permanent residence for a few years before he’d gotten stuck in space, and during that brief period, media attention had kept him from seeing much apart from the drab interiors of office buildings and dark corners of restaurants.

Peter, on the other hand, had been born amidst the madness. He had become a person on the streets of the city and had risked his life to defend the people who lived there.

The steady patter of rain persisted and the streets became more densely packed. They had no maps—electronic or otherwise—and just enough money for one last toll, making focus on the roads absolutely essential.

“We have Janine of Brooklyn on the line to share the miracle return of her daughter whose twin brother is now five years older than her!”

Apparently, there were two monstrosities of human creation no global catastrophe could stop: the flow of traffic in and out of Manhattan and awful talk radio. Gritting his teeth, Tony checked his blind spot before merging into the next lane and rounding the corner. He was almost grateful for Peter’s gloomy silence, one less distraction on the most delicate leg of their journey.

Then, there it was. 

The white and green sign was smaller than he’d remembered, sitting sadly on a small, nondescript strip of sidewalk with a puddle gathering at its feet. Lincoln Tun, it read in bold letters. Below were the words he had both dreaded and dreamed of reading for five years: New York City. He could almost smell the hot garbage.

“In other news, billionaire Tony Stark, known to many as the superhero, Iron Man, is still missing. He was last spotted five years ago in Central Park between-”

Tony almost swerved into the median, earning a furious honk from the car behind him and a splash of spray as the car ahead pressed on its breaks.

“Representatives from Stark Industries ask that anyone with information regarding Mister Stark’s whereabouts contact the following number: two-one-two-”

“Should we call in?” Peter’s wry voice spoke over the rest of the announcement.

Tony’s breath hitched, almost veering off course a second time. He corrected his error and pressed gently on the gas as the road sloped upward, the final toll coming into view ahead.

“Sorry,” Peter muttered.

“No worries.”

Peter gestured to the dashboard. “D’you think this is gonna be a problem?” 

“Maybe. Not if we can make it to the tower before the manhunt really kicks off.”

“This can’t possibly be good for your ego.”

“For those who have forgotten,” the anchor continued cheerfully, “Tony Stark is approximately five-foot seven…”

Tony slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” 

Peter let out a loud snort, doubling over in his seat as they crept towards the toll booth.

“Please let me call in, Mister Stark,” he begged, leaning against the rain-streaked window. “I’ll set them straight and defend your honor. You’re at least five-seven and a half.”

“Just because I let you tag along this far does not mean I won’t make you get out and walk the rest of the way,” Tony threatened, far too pleased that Peter’s brooding had momentarily ceased to speak with any real bite.

Peter made an exaggerated puppy face. “In this weather?”

“You could use a shower.”

“Well, Chris, wherever Tony Stark may be, we wish him all the best. In other news, we have the Secretary of Defense on the other line…”

They rolled up to the toll booth window and were greeted by a sour-faced woman.

“Sixteen dollars,” she said boredly. “Cash only.”

“Of course,” Tony assured. “Pete, can you grab the cash?”

“Already got it.”

He handed the money to the woman who turned away, fiddling with the screen in front of her. A small television mounted on the wall was now visible and playing a news broadcast of some sort.

TONY STARK the headline read MISSING, MURDERED, OR MASKED?

“Shit,” he hissed through his teeth, drawing Peter’s attention. “Don’t say anything.”

Peter’s eyes widened and he nodded, quietly looking between the booth attendant and the screen. 

The woman finally looked up from her monitor after a painfully long time typing. For a single moment, her eyes tightened and she regarded the pair with something a little more than apathy. 

Tony’s hands gripped the steering wheel and waited.

“You’re good to go,” she finally said.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks.” He smiled, already peeling out of the toll zone and rolling up his windows.

“That was close,” Peter remarked, gaze fixed on the arched tunnel jutting out of the hillside just ahead.

“I don’t know. I kind of doubt that woman would’ve noticed if I’d had a T-Shirt that said I am Tony Stark.”

“Probably not,” Peter conceded, “but now I really need to get that shirt.”

“In case I forget who I am, or in case you forget who I am?”

“Exactly.”

The line of cars ahead moved again, bringing them only feet from the shadowy entrance to the tunnel. Rain splattered against the window and the radio buzzed on.

“Chris, this is just like the reports have been saying. Wall Street is expecting the recession to last well into the next fiscal year but don’t dump your stocks just–”

Click.

A steady bass beat replaced the droning voices of the news anchors and Peter’s hand fell away from the dashboard.

“Whoops,” he said without a hint of remorse. “I think my hand slipped.”

Tony felt a small weight lift from his chest. He hadn’t realized how much the news had been affecting him. 

“We should just listen to some music,” he said, “before we have to face the music.”

The line of cars moved again. It was their turn to enter the tunnel.

“Clever,” said Peter. “Have you been saving that one?”

“Just thought of it actually.”

“I’m impressed. It’d be funny if–” Peter’s words evaporated in his mouth as they passed under the tunnel’s archway and were plunged into eerie yellow dimness.

The next time they saw the surface, they would be in Manhattan.

_____

The radio volume wavered as they drove forward—cutting out periodically as the car struggled to maintain a connection from beneath the Hudson River—but neither of the passengers made an effort at conversation as they crawled along the narrow road.

It was suffocating, doing nothing to decrease the anxiety that skyrocketed with every foot they inched closer to Manhattan. All of the fears that had been quelled by detours, inane conversation, and denial flooded in at once and Tony’s thoughts were fully steeped in doubt.

What if they reached the tower only to find that everyone had died in the mysterious Upstate New York battle? What if they had all survived but nobody wanted to see them? 

Peter shifted, pulling at his seatbelt as if it were choking him.

What if Peter decided to stay on Earth but didn’t want to spend time with his old travel companion once he had people his own age to hang out with?

Don’t be ridiculous, he chided, of course he’s going to want to see his friends over you.

The music crackled on briefly, covering up the unnerving whooshing of the tunnel before falling silent.

What if Peter decided to stay on Earth but moved across the world?

You’d go with him, his brain supplied. If he’ll have you.

What if–

The tunnel veered to the left and the glow of natural light shone ahead. The radio connection re-established, now playing a pop song Tony had never heard. When had they found time to put out more soulless garbage during the decimation of the universe?

They crept forward, now fully at the tunnel exit. He could hear Peter’s breathing pick up over the music and, after minutes of tight walls and low lighting, they plunged into a new world, and he saw them. The buildings. 

_____

On Sakaar, the skyscrapers had been so otherworldly, so immense, that Tony had always felt minuscule, like a single ant crawling around a massive hill. Driving out of the Lincoln Tunnel for the first time in five years felt like going back to an old elementary school classroom as a high schooler. Towers sprouted from the sidewalks, vaulting towards the misty wet sky on all sides, but Tony couldn’t help but think that he remembered them being bigger.

He robotically navigated through the grid of streets in the direction of the old tower, his stomach twisting in more knots with every block they passed.

From the unusually weathered pavement and half-boarded windows, it was clear that the city hadn’t been spared from the devastation of the Blip. Whether as a result of the dusting or the rain or years of living in the intergalactic mega-city of Sakaar, the streets felt more subdued. The people they did pass were all clearly locals, moving about daily business with the customary New York haste. Those walking alone had their heads fixed downward and those in pairs or groups were all tightly packed together, clinging to loved ones that had likely been dead weeks before.

Before Tony knew it, he was turning onto Park Avenue. The street of the tower. His tower.

As soon as he pulled off of 36th Street, he was hit with the sleek, glass facade looming tall above all others. The large “A” still hung proudly near the top, a fearsome beacon beckoning them forward. How it was still standing was a mystery to him, but he couldn't help but feel something flutter in his chest.

“Do we… park then?” Peter asked hesitantly, peering through the window as they slowly rolled down the road.

“We’ll have to find a place on the street.” 

“Damn, all this way only to get vanquished by city parking.”

“Sorry, my garage door opener didn’t exactly make it through our little detour.”

Peter looked away, suddenly extremely amused.

“What?” Tony pressed.

“Oh, nothing. I just remembered that you’re rich again.”

Tony tilted his head. “Huh,” he mused. “I think I just did too.”

A mischievous grin lit up Peter's face. “You know what that means though, right?”

“That, after today, I don’t need to worry about finding parking in this goddamn city ever again?”

“That,” Peter dipped his head. “But I was thinking more along the lines of…you can probably afford to pay off any parking ticket they throw your way…If you catch my drift.”

“Oh. ”

“Yeah, oh. If we really push it they might even tow this heap of junk for us.”

“Mister Parker!” Tony clucked his tongue, already gleefully flipping his turn signal on and veering towards the nearest curb. “How un-Spider-Man-like of you. Space really changed you.”

“Space? Or your terrible influence.”

“Hush child.”

He pulled the car up on the curb before shifting the gear to park with a final lurch. He reached down to untwist the ignition and battery wires but something made him before fully disconnecting them. 

The moment he turned off the car, the road trip would be over. Was he ready to say goodbye to this crazy, uncomplicated, love-filled period of his life? He supposed it didn’t really matter if he was ready. He’d made his final decision a week ago on the beach in Jacksonville, and no matter what they decided, he owed his loved ones an explanation.

A hand rested lightly on his elbow, pulling him from the depths of his mind.

“Mister Stark,” Peter urged softly.

“Pete,” he choked out through his constricted throat.

“We can do this.”

In the entire universe, the space between the fogged up windows of a beaten-up sedan parked illegally on the side of a rainy New York City street was all that truly existed to Tony. How had he ever lived without this perfect kid?

With a single jerk of his hands, he disconnected the wires and the car lights dimmed. A thin, warm hand made it into his own and the tears that had been threatening to fall for weeks finally trickled down Tony’s cheeks. He looked up to see that Peter’s eyes were also rimmed red.

"Thank you," Tony whispered. "For everything."

"Back at you."

Tony swiped furiously at his eyes. “God I’m lame now,” he groaned, dropping back into his seat with a thump. “Are we really about to do this?”

“It’d be kind of awkward if we traveled trillions of miles through a dozen planets and defeated the New York parking system just to turn around now.”

“Is it bad that, even though I’m absolutely shitting bricks, there’s a part of me that’s kind of excited to see the looks on everyone’s faces when we walk in?”

“If it is, then I’m the worst person in the world.”

“God, I love you, kid.”

_____

The walk to the foot of the building was over too quickly. A steady downpour of rain dashed any ideas of dawdling and the pair crossed the tower’s luxurious threshold before any seconds thoughts could arise to stop them. They were greeted by a sparsely decorated, sterile white interior with ceilings reaching up several stories. The entry was dead silent, without a single sign of life. Tony cringed as his wet boots squeaked against the freshly waxed floor.

“Geez,” Peter whistled from behind, stepping out of the revolving door into the soaring lobby. “I forgot how much of a show off you used to be.”

The way his voice echoed in the empty room gave Tony the sensation that they had been swallowed by a carnivorous beast and were standing in its empty stomach, waiting to be devoured and digested.

He swallowed his anxiety and nudged Peter with a gentle elbow. “You’re on my property now, hotshot. All comments and criticisms can be directed to-”

“Hey!” A gruff shout cut through the exchange as a furrowed-brow, uniformed man striding out of a door at the far end of the lobby. “We’re not open to the public.”

“Shit. Security.”

“What do we do?” Peter whispered.

“I’ll… I’ll think of something.”

As the officer marched forward, he leaned into his chest and muttered unintelligible directions to a small radio. Fantastic. More attention was exactly what they needed right now.

“Sirs,” he called out to Tony and Peter. “You can’t be here. Visiting hours have been suspended for the foreseeable future. Employees only.”

Tony opened his mouth, unsure of what words were going to come out.

“I…work here.”

He felt Peter tense at his side. Bad start.

“Both of you?” The guard nodded in Peter’s direction. “That one seems a bit young.”

“I’m an intern,” Peter blurted out.

“He’s my intern.” Tony nodded, painfully aware how ridiculous they must look and sound standing in the ritzy lobby of Stark industries wearing beat up work boots and damp clothes.

The guard narrowed his eyes, gaze dragging up and down their bodies, clearly noting the same things Tony had. “Yeah, I’m gonna need to see some ID.”

“ID?” Peter repeated.

“Identification?”

“I know what ID means,” Peter said defensively.

Tony clenched his fists. They were so close. His eyes darted to the elevator at the end of the lobby. If they broke into a sprint would they make it before someone stopped them?

The guard sighed impatiently in the I-don’t-get-paid-enough-for-this way that Tony himself had become well acquainted with making over the years. “I’m going to have to ask both of you to either show me some ID or exit the premises.” 

“Wait,” Tony said, pretending to feel his pockets as panic rose. “I have my ID, it’s somewhere in here. Just let me…”

The elevator dinged across the room.

“I’m only going to ask you one more time, sir–” 

“I’m not lying!”

“Please exit the–”

“Hey!” a voice rang through the lobby, echoing off the soaring ceilings back down to the marble floors where the guard stiffened. “What seems to be the problem here?”

Tony’s gaze flew to the elevator, instantly spotting an all-too-familiar combination of curly hair, a well pressed suit, and a disapproving face. His vision shrank even further as Stark Industries head of security Happy Hogan marched out of the elevator doors and strode across the lobby, sporting an official Stark Industries badge and…was that a salt-and-pepper beard?

The security guard stepped forward, effectively blocking the pair from view. 

“Mister Hogan,” he began, chest puffed and tone business-like. “I was just telling a lost man that IDs are required for entry.”

Happy made a sour face. “And?” he demanded. “What about that very simple protocol made it necessary to radio the Head of Security?”

The guard deflated. “Well, you see-” 

Happy rested his hands on his hips in the most Happy-esque way that made Tony’s heart ache. 

“I’m a busy man,” he grouched. “I don’t have time for every lost loiterer that wanders into this tower.”

“Well, sir, the man–“

Happy shook his head sharply. “No ID, no entry. Tony Stark himself made that rule. He was big on simple rules. Didn’t like a lot of words. If anyone short of Tony Stark himself walks through those doors you tell them to take a hike.”

“Of course sir, I–“

Happy made a noise of derision. “Oh I’m sorry, did Tony Stark just walk in?”

Tony stepped out from behind the unfortunate guard who was doing a marvelous impression of a fish in the fist of a fisherman. 

“Hey, Hap.” He waved. “Long time, no see.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Happy hadn’t heard him and he prepared to speak louder. Then, his old friend’s brows furrowed, his face drained of all color. He could pinpoint the exact moment his friend processed what he was seeing. His body went rigid and he made a snarled choking sound as if he had swallowed his own tongue. When he finally spoke, his voice was strangled and rough and he only managed to get out a single word.

“No.”

“I know what you’re thinking. I’ve lost weight.”

Happy violently jerked his head in denial.

“No. No fuckin’ way.”

“Surprise?”

The security guard was darting between Tony and Happy like a tennis match, eyes squinted in confusion. 

“But...but how? Who is–” Happy caught sight of the person standing at Tony’s side and he recoiled, choking on his own words.

Peter smiled, waggling his fingers in greeting. “Hey Happy.” 

Happy's eyes bugged out of his skull. “Kid?!”

Peter nodded. "Long time no see."

“Oh,” Happy breathed. "Oh my..."

He took a shaky step towards their group. Peter met him halfway and allowed his old supervisor to grasp his shoulders.

“Holy shit," Happy marveled, a shaky smile breaking out on the man’s usually gruff face. His fingers dug into the fabric of Peter's shirt, but the kid didn't so much as wince. "Holy shit. You–you...got bigger.” He turned to Tony. “How did he get bigger?”

“Ate my veggies.” Peter shrugged.

Happy held on, searching Peter's face with dreamlike wonder, as if he was convinced that the kid would dissolve if he lost focus. 

“We thought...you-you were dead,” he said, voice cracking at the end as he looked to Tony. “Both of you."

“We’re okay,” Peter assured. “Very much not dead.”

"I–I saw the news. They said you two had gone up in that spaceship, and when you never came back we all assumed you’d either vanished like everyone else or…”

"Not too far off from the truth."

Happy just stared back, incredulous. "What?"

"Sorry we worried you," Peter offered.

Happy finally loosened his grip on the boy, stepping away sheepishly, like he'd only just realized he'd been holding him in an iron grip. "Don't," he commanded gruffly.

"Sorry?"

"Don't say that, don’t apologize. I’m sure it was Tony’s fault anyways.”

Peter grinned. “Yeah, it totally was.” 

“Hey!” Tony cut in, nudging Peter’s shoulder with his own. “That’s not fair and you know it.”

“Is too,” Peter countered.

"Seriously? Very mature."

"You're one to-"

“Guys!” Happy said. He was still taking in their appearance with visible bewilderment, wringing his hands at his side. “I just...how?!”

Tony frowned. “How?”

"Yes. How." said Happy angrily. “How the hell are you two even here?”

“It’s...kinda a long story,” Peter answered.

"I should hope so, seeing as you've been gone for...five goddamn years!"

It was impressive, all things considered, how well Happy was holding it together. Aside from the occasional twitch in his new beard or the way his eyes seemed reluctant to blink, he stood tall and strong.

"What do you already know?" Tony asked. "You mentioned news reports?"

Happy nodded. “Talked to Rogers after the battle. He said he’d heard reports that you made it to some planet with Strange and some aliens, but that when everyone came back you guys were gone.”

Rogers. Tony’s stomach churned. Now there was a name drop. That wasn't even to mention the reference to the mysterious battle the radio had been reporting on.

“It’s a really long story,” Peter said.

Happy took a steadying breath, running his hands through his beard. “Just...just tell me one thing."

"Of course," said Peter. "Anything."

"Have you two been alive?"

Peter looked to Tony. "Um..."

"The entire time?" Happy demanded.

"Well," Tony hesitated. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Jesus…” Happy blew out a long breath, running both hands through his hair.

"We were as shocked as you," Tony said. "Trust me."

“But...then where the fresh hell were you? I don’t know if anyone’s mentioned it yet, but it’s kind of been five years.” 

Tony pointed upwards and Happy looked to the ceiling, squinting. 

“Upstairs?”

“Bit higher than that.”

“I don’t know, Tony," Happy huffed. "Heaven? I don't want to play one of your stupid games right now.”

The security guard who had been standing in complete, confused silence for the entire conversation suddenly bulged, his hand flying to his mouth.

“Tony… ” the man whispered into his palm, gears finally clicking into place. “Tony Stark.”

Happy spun on his employee as if he had just remembered the man’s existence, stern mask back on.

“You.”

The guard instantly straightened his spine, full attention. “Sir?”

“Pure dumb luck just saved your job,” Happy snapped. “Go call Miss Potts and tell her we found him. She’ll know what to do. If word gets out about this before I say so, I’ll know who to blame.”

“Of course sir.” The guard nodded fiercely, turning tail and sprinting to a metal door at the edge of the room, leaving the three alone in the massive lobby.

The door clicked shut and Tony spoke again.

“Cut the guy some slack, Hap.”

“That wasn’t even the first time I said your name, and even though you look like total shit right now, the fact that he didn’t recognize you is concerning.”

“I doubt Thanos could’ve gotten past him, though. Pete and I were ten seconds from getting kicked to the curb."

"Oh I'm sure."

"Points for passion?”

Happy’s sigh sounded as if it had clawed its way from the depths of his soul. “You have no idea what I've had to deal with the last five years. The personnel issues alone...and don’t change the subject! Where the hell have you been?”

Tony wanted to push the issue, to demand that Happy give them every detail of the lost years, but he knew that he owed his friend the truth.

“We were a bit lower than heaven,” he said. “Think… more sand, less atmosphere.”

“Space?” 

“Ding Ding Ding.”

"Space," said Happy, dumbfounded.

"Space," Peter affirmed.

“For...five years?” Happy shook his head. “But...how?” 

Peter grimaced. “We got kind of lost.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Happy breathed. “How are you two alive?”

“I could ask the same thing about half of the life in the universe,” Tony countered. “You guys just magically found out how to undo the thing that stranded us out there in the first place?”

Happy made a face. “It was your Avengers, really. Rogers, Romanoff, Banner, some criminal from California.” 

Tony leaned forward. “What did they do?”

“I wasn’t there but they’ve been working for a while and figured it out somehow and…poof.”

“Poof?”

“Well, a lot more than poof, but I don’t actually know all the details. I’ve been a little busy if you can’t tell.”

“Things have really been that rough around here?”

“Understatement of the century.” Happy huffed, rolling his eyes. “By lately do you mean the past two weeks or the past five years? Either way, yes. Yes they have.”

“What happened? What with threatening to fire building security for ensuring the building’s security and all.”

“What didn’t happen, Tony? With you MIA presumed dead, the company was a mess, and of course Pepper wasn’t in any shape to–” 

Happy’s mouth snapped shut and his eyebrows flew towards his hairline as if he’d been struck by some great epiphany.

“What?” Tony pressed, anxiety mounting. “What happened to Pepper?”

Happy shook his head, retreating into himself. “I really shouldn’t.”

“Hell no,” Tony said firmly. “You can’t just drop that little nugget like that and expect me to leave it.”

“You should really hear this from her, Tony.”

If Tony had wanted to squeeze Happy for information before, now the desire was burning like a thousand suns. Worry rolled in the pit of his stomach as they held each other's gaze, each searching for some undefined, unspoken answers.

Finally, Tony’s shoulders sagged.

“Just…tell me,” he sighed. “Is she okay?”

Happy’s eyes widened and he nodded perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

“Oh! Yeah,” he assured. “She’s alright. Had a rough start after you disappeared, what with the…anyways, we were all taking it pretty hard when you didn’t come back from that flying donut, but she was the worst. Couldn’t stand being in the city or around the compound so she moved upstate pretty soon after everything happened.”

“We heard about the move,” Tony said. “I didn’t know it was because of me.”

“You heard about that?” Happy’s brows furrowed. “Where?”

“Louisiana,” Peter chimed in. “In a newspaper.”

“Louisiana?” Happy said sharply. “Wait, how long have you guys been back?”

Tony hesitated, considering calling his friend out on the speedy redirection of the conversation, but let it slide. Happy wasn’t wrong in saying Pepper deserved to tell him her story on her own terms.

“Two weeks?”

“Jesus, did you guys end up in Australia or something?”

“Nevada, actually,” said Peter.

“Then what took you so damn long? Did you walk here or something?”

“Hotwired a car.”

“It’s a big country,” Happy said hotly, “but that’s a five day trip and I drove you for long enough to know that you don’t exactly do slow.”

Peter and Tony looked at each other, guilt written plainly on both faces.

“Well,” Tony began carefully.

“We took the scenic route,” Peter finished.

The silence was deafening as Happy stared back at them in absolute bewilderment.

“Let’s take this upstairs,” he finally said, “where you guys are going to tell me everything.”

Chapter Text

May 2023

“Why are you here, anyways?” Tony questioned, grimacing at the unfortunate squelching of his damp boots as they crossed the lobby towards the private elevator. He couldn’t help but say a silent prayer for the unlucky janitor who would be greeted by two sets of mud tracks at the start of their next shift.

“Here?”

“At the tower.”

Happy frowned. “Where else would I be?” 

“Upstate? Pepper-”

“Is fine–” Happy held up a disruptive hand. “–like I already told you. We talked yesterday. I visited her cabin just last week.”

“The compound then.”

“The one that’s currently a pile of rubble as a result of a direct missile blast?”

“Oh…” Tony blew out a long breath. “Would you believe I forgot?”

“Maybe,” Happy said, casting a glance at Peter. “You seem to have a lot on your mind these days.”

They reached the far edge of the lobby and Happy leaned forward, pressing a silver button on a stainless steel plaque embedded into the wall.

“We heard on the news that the compound had been destroyed,” Tony said, willfully ignoring Happy’s allusion. He didn’t have time to explain Peter. He didn’t know how to explain Peter. “The details are all very hush-hush though.”

“Yeah, well–” Happy shrugged. “–apparently, even after the third alien invasion, the government doesn’t like people talking about alien invasions. I think they’re hoping everyone assumes it was all a mass hallucination so they don’t have to pay for the reconstruction.”

“Figures,” Peter snorted.

Happy made a short noise of agreement.

The wall chimed with a soft ding and parted, revealing the interior of a small elevator. The trio stepped inside and an inoffensive jazz tune floated from above as the elevator began to rise. For the first time, Tony wished his arc reactor technology wasn’t so powerful. The building’s central air was frigid against his damp shirt, like someone was pressing an ice pack onto his skin.

“Enough about Earth,” Happy finally said, still staring as if he was worried they might fade into the floor polish. “You two just came from actual outer space. How the hell are you even here right now?”

“We flew,” Peter answered. “Then we drove.”

“In a spaceship?”

“A 91’ Accord actually.” Tony said.

Happy's face scrunched with a look Tony had seen thousands of times over their years together.

“Sorry, sorry.” Tony lifted his hands in mock surrender. “We flew here in a spaceship. Floated around for a bit first, actually. Then flew.”

“It was kind of like Gravity,” Peter volunteered.

“The movie or the force of nature?”

“Movie.”

"The force of nature also played a pretty important role," Tony added.

Happy shook his head in disbelief. “Only you two…of course, if this were Gravity, both of you–”

“Would be Sandra Bullock,” Tony finished. “We know.”

Happy lifted a curious eyebrow. “Since when do you get pop culture references from this decade?”

“Since I spent nearly every second of the last five years with that one.” Tony hooked a thumb in Peter’s direction. 

Peter gave a half smile. "I try."

"Speaking of that one." Happy leaned against the rumbling elevator wall, growing pensive. “You’ve been speaking a normal, human amount since you showed up, Parker.”

Peter pursed his lips. "Have I?"

“Frankly,” Happy continued. “It’s weirding me out. I’d have thought you would have a Powerpoint prepared on your real life Star Wars story. How’re you doing, kid?”

Peter shrugged. “I’m alright.”

Happy made questioning eye contact with Tony who only shrugged back. Peter was a bit quieter than he had been before. That was all. Maybe it was a side effect of aging or perhaps a symptom of years spent with little to no company. The fact was, he had changed. They had changed.

“You’re...God-" Happy lifted his eyes to the elevator ceiling "-how old now? Twenty-two?”

“It’s kind of hard to say/"

Happy snorted. “What, did you forget your birthday? Time is time whether you’re on Earth or Jupiter.”

“Until it isn’t,” said Tony.

“Is this a riddle or something?” Happy let out a noise of exasperation. “I already said I wasn’t in the mood, Tony."

"No riddles. The kid is telling the truth,” he insisted. “I’m drafting my proposal to change the laws of physics as we speak. Where do you think I should hang the Nobel?”

“Fine,” Happy grumbled. “Explain it to me like I was born this morning and did nothing but sleep since.”

“Well,” Peter began,“Mister Stark and I spent some time in this…place.”

“Another planet,” Happy assumed.

“Yes.”

Happy pinched the bridge of his nose as if the answer had caused him physical pain. 

“Sure,” he sighed. “Why not? Go on.”

Peter tilted his head subtly to Tony, a gesture he knew meant, you finish.

“We’d heard that time was a little wonky there,” he explained. “Then the kid noticed we weren’t aging.” 

Happy tilted his head. “And?”

“And that’s it,” Tony shrugged. “We didn’t grow an inch taller or a shade greyer the entire time we were there. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” Happy crossed his arms with a huff. “I’ve got a few. First of all, how could you possibly cross…presumably multiple galaxies in only five years? I might not work for NASA, but I know a thing or two about transportation.”

“Peter got a job.”

“Peter?” Happy’s face twisted, fixing the boy in question with a look of befuddlement. “A job?”

“I was as shocked as you are.” Tony playfully nudged the boy who dipped his head, a small smile playing across his lips. “Who’d hire this kid, right?”

“Right,” Happy said slowly, expression unreadable.

“But yeah,” Tony said. “The kid got a job.”

Happy held up a hand. “We need to take a step back. They have jobs in space? And you made the kid get one?”

“They have everything in space, and I didn't make him do anything.”

"Mister Stark got a job too," Peter said. "He was a mechanic, then he was a delivery guy, and then he was lunch lady."

Happy seemed more startled at that news than the news that they'd been on a timeless planet, his eyes growing wider with each job Peter rattled off.

"You're making that up"

"No, I'm n-"

"What I did or did not do for money and or transportation isn't important," Tony cut in. "This job was with this crew of...well I guess the kid would say they were part Indiana Jones, part Star Wars people. They were searching for precious metals in the surrounding planetary system. Pete can tell you more than I can.”

Peter shrugged. “That sounds right to me.”

Happy looked halfway to needing a second pacemaker. “You guys were with aliens?!”

“Are you honestly surprised at this point? You’ve just experienced your, what, third alien invasion?”

“Can you blame me?” Happy demanded. “You show up out of nowhere after five years, telling me that you and Peter Parker, the kid you used to see maybe once a month to fix his super suit, have been traveling through space with aliens the entire time.”

Tony pursed his lips. “I’d say that’s a pretty apt summary. I saw the kid more than once a month though, right?”

“The kid is right here.” Peter frowned. "And no you didn't."

Before Happy could work himself into even more of a fluster, the elevator lurched and the music was cut off by another chime.

“Tony, wait,” the head of security said sharply, his expression growing serious. “Before we go out there I should probably tell you–”

The door slid open to a room Tony recognized instantly. The multi-level space was almost entirely glass and the only wall not featuring billion dollar views of Manhattan was covered by shelves of liquor worth more than the average American mortgage. It was his old living room.

He cautiously stepped out of the elevator, rubbing at a hole in his worn jacket as if he would tarnish the floors just by existing near them. Was this how the average person felt visiting his home? 

A noise down the hall to the left drew his attention away from the absurd lavishness of the lounge.

“Is…someone else here?”

Happy shifted uncomfortably. “That’s what I forgot to mention,” he said, tone clipped. “Tony, you know that after the battle the compound was in ruins...”

“Happy?” A voice—deep and male—echoed into the room. “Is that you?”

Tony knew that voice. It was a voice that used to haunt his nightmares.

Happy cleared his throat. “Yeah, Steve, I’m in the lounge,” he called back. “I…well, you should probably see for yourself.”

Turning back to Tony, he quickly mumbled, “Sorry, boss. Tried to warn you.”

“Valiant effort,” Tony hissed. “Steve Rogers? Really?”

Happy only offered an apologetic face as heavy footsteps reverberated from the hall, getting louder and louder against the metal floors—what had he been thinking when he’d designed this place? 

Like a phantom, a dark blonde head appeared under the archways, sending Tony an instinctual half-step back. Steve Rogers was walking into the living room as if he were a casual dinner guest and not an international fugitive.

“I thought I heard you come in,” Steve called out. “I was just in the lab with Bruce and thought you could get Pepper’s opinion on th—Oh my God .”

It was Steve’s turn to recoil. His entire body jerked back liked he'd been struck with lightening and several miscellaneous papers escaped from his now slack hands, fluttering to the floor like forgotten fall leaves.

“Tony?!”

Tony had fully accepted that he would probably never see Steve Rogers ever again months before he had left Earth behind. To see the man standing barefoot in the entryway of his old home, white-knuckles gripping the edge of an XXL navy blue sweater, he couldn’t help but be surprised by how human Steve looked. 

“Rogers,” He greeted stiffly, recalling the last time he’d laid eyes on his old friend. It had taken years for his chest to stop aching periodically in the spot where the star-spangled shield had once been lodged.

Steve didn’t move, still ogling the trio gathered before him with abject astonishment.

“But. I… how ?”

“He was in space,” Happy said matter-of-factly, as if he hadn’t acted identically minutes before.

A crease appeared between Steve’s perfect brows, the tiniest crack in his statue-like stance. “Space,” he repeated.

“The outer kind,” Tony added.

Steve pressed a hand to his large chest, gaping as he had forgotten how to exhale. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.”

Steve blinked once, twice, still staring in complete confoundment.

“What the hell.”

“Yeah, we’ve been getting one that a lot lately.”

Steve’s face contorted. “We?” His eyes scanned the room until focusing on Peter. He sharply inhaled. “Wait, Tony…who?”

“What?”

“Who’s the kid?" Steve spoke softly, as if Peter were a skittish fawn he was afraid of scaring away.

In an odd way, it stung that the man who had once been the most among his closest friends, one of the people most important in the world to him, didn’t know the boy who had become the world to him. The half a decade of life between them had never felt so much like a gaping chasm with a thousand foot drop.

“This…” Tony stumbled, searching for any words to explain even a fraction of the events of the last five years. “Well, this is Peter.”

Steve regarded Peter with a heavy measure of concern, as if he had no clue how to talk to this young stranger peering back at him from his old friend’s side.

Peter waved. “Hello, sir.”

“Hello, son,” Steve greeted, turning to Tony and, in a low voice said, “Is he–”

Tony crossed his arms, daring Steve to say something.. “Is he what?” 

Steve pointed towards the high ceilings. “Is he...from out there?”

The sound-proof windows he had so adamantly installed years back did little to alleviate the weighty silence that fell over the room. Tony noticed Peter tapping a nervous foot on the floor and remembered with a lurch that he wasn’t the only one present who had last seen Steve Rogers in an ill fated battle. A protective voice in his mind wondered if maybe five years wasn’t too long to hold a grudge.

“Oh. You thought that–” Tony waved his hands fervently, biting back a laugh. “No, God no. Pete is human. From Earth.” 

“Oh.” Steve’s frown only deepened.

“The kid got caught on that ship with me five years ago, and by caught, I mean stowed away. It’s still a sore spot. Don’t ask.”

“So,” Steve began carefully. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Tony, you’re saying that you’ve been in space, alive, with a random human child who got caught on an alien spaceship…this entire time.”

Tony tilted his head, scratching thoughtfully at his untamed beard. “I’m impressed. Took you less time than Happy and he knows how to work a microwave.”

Peter piped in. “I’m not some random human child.”

“Keep out of it, kid,” Tony warned.

Something had shifted in Steve and he looked between the two new arrivals, a strange glint in his eyes. 

“Tony,” he said slowly, as if the idea was just dawning on him, “Is he your…”

Happy opened his mouth, probably to offer a half-baked excuse to cover for Peter.

“The kid is Spider-Man.” Tony cut in, not about to explain the intricacies of the relationship he and Peter had formed through years of struggles and hardship so far from home. How he would die for the kid but couldn’t get him to call him by his first name.

Something flashed in Peter’s face. Surprise? Pride? Offense? 

“Oh,” was all Steve said.

Tony jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction. “Enough with the American Inquisition,” he declared. “The kid also is exhausted, and so am I. It’s been a while but this is still my house, right?”

“Pepper never took your name off of the deed,” Happy volunteered.

Tony swallowed hard.

The next building is going to say Potts on the tower, he’d said in this very room a lifetime ago, blissfully unaware of rapidly approaching the future. 

On the lease, she’d replied, eyes full of love for a man who would do nothing but let her down time and time again.

“Well.” His voice was rough and he couldn’t stop blinking. “Thank God for Pepper. Anyways, my house, my rules. I’ve just had a very long trip and would appreciate being left alone.”

“Of course,” Steve agreed quickly. “Should I let the others know?”

“Why not.” He shrugged. “Might as well get it over with.”

“I can take you to your room,” Happy offered.

“I know where my room is. I’ll show the kid where he can wash off.”

Happy’s face dropped, as if Tony had told him to fuck off. 

“I know, boss…” he said gently. “Just…”

“Sorry,” Tony said quickly, guilt already rushing in. “It’s been a long day, Hap.”

Happy softened, offering a small but genuine smile. “It’s really good to have you back. Both of you.”

“Maybe later today you can give Pete the grand tour? I’ve probably forgotten everything important.”

Happy grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way they hadn’t five years before. 

“That sounds great,” he said. “I’ll go make a few calls.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, injecting as much into the word as his exhausted heart could handle. “For everything”

_____

“Everything alright, kid?”

They walked side by side through another extravagant room.

“Yeah, definitely,” Peter answered hesitantly. “It’s all just…”

“Bat-shit crazy? An out of body experience? Like you’ve taken those Sakaaran psychedelics again?”

“That was one time!”

“Sure it was.”

“I’m fine,” Peter assured. “Really. I just don’t know these people like you do, and the way they’re looking at me like…”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” Peter rushed to say. “It’s not like that.”

“I guess out there it was easy to forget who I am down here. Nothing like years of poverty to tamper down your ego.”

“I said it was fine,” Peter sighed, not taking the bait to make fun of Tony’s ego. 

“Well, if you ever change your mind…”

“You’ll be the first to know.” They turned down a hallway that hopefully led towards the bedrooms, passing a miniature bubbling fountain and a contemporary glass vase filled with spiked shards of some blood-red material. “Do you actually remember where we’re going?”

“Hey!” Tony leaned over to gently bump the boy’s shoulder. “I lived here for years.”

“And?” Peter quirked an eyebrow.

“We’ll figure it out eventually.”

They passed another garish statue and Peter wrinkled his nose.

“Has your place always been this nice?” he asked, running his fingers lightly along the smooth metallic walls. 

“I’m starting to understand that people may not have been exaggerating when they said I had a tendency for overdoing it.”

“Alert the press. Tony Stark is becoming self-aware.”

They entered a part of the corridor where the wall to their left was entirely glass and showcased the thousand foot drop to the pavement below.

“Remember when we got that two-bedroom place in Sakaar and thought we were living like kings?”

“We didn’t know how to act,” Peter laughed softly. “Literally. If I remember correctly, it ended up with half the living room destroyed.”

“By you.”

“Hmm, it’s all kind of fuzzy.”

“I’m sure.”

The hallway curved and a row of stylish black doors greeted them. They didn’t look much different from the dozens of others they had passed, but it would’ve taken more than a few years for Tony to forget his own bedroom.

“Here we are, kiddo,” he sighed, coming to a stop in front of the first door. “This one can be yours. I’ll be right across the hall.”

Peter regarded the stainless steel handle with suspicion.

“How are we actually going to do this?” he asked, his tone revealing depths of discomfort that he had clearly been trying to tamp down all day. “How can we change everything all over again?”

“We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

“Or…” Peter paused.

“Or?”

“We could not.”

Tony knit his eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

“The job offer.”

“Oh.”

“It’s worth considering,” Peter hurried to say, and Tony was surprised at the hopefulness in his voice.

“Maybe.”

“You don’t want to?” 

A week back, driving window-down along the interstate in a hotwired sedan he might’ve done a 180 into traffic had Peter asked to go back to the ship, but seeing Happy—hell, even seeing Steve —had changed things. Millions of miles away, it was so easy to forget that he’d had a life on this stupid green and blue rock, but it was starting to trickle back in. 

“We just got here, kiddo.”

“I know.”

“You said it yourself. We keep having to change everything. It might be nice to give Earth another shot.” He hadn’t even seen Pepper yet.

Peter’s shoulders sagged. “I guess.”

“Why don’t we talk about it later after we’ve gotten out of these wet rags?” Tony suggested, reaching for the shiny handle and pushing twisting the door open to reveal yet another expensive room. “It feels like the furniture is judging me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have bought such judgemental furniture,” Peter countered.

“I can’t take you anywhere.” 

_____

The bedroom that used to be Tony’s was larger than all of the homes he had recently stayed in combined. Towering curtains offered unnecessary privacy from the sweeping views of the city and his grandiose bed sat imposingly at the center of the room.

The conversation with Peter echoed endlessly in his thoughts, swirling amongst indecision and faded memories from his past life.

His own breathing and the padding of his feet against hardwood were the only audible noise in the room as he stepped into the en-suite bathroom. He was struck with the realization that this was the first true silence he had experienced in some time. He was alone.

The massive marble slab sink he had once stumbled up to—bleary-eyed and with varying degrees of a hangover—every morning was still fixed to the wall, glinting menacingly in the light that filtered in from the open doorway. A thin, black toothbrush rested precariously on the rim as if it’s owner had tossed it aside before rushing out.

Suddenly, Tony was on his knees, gasping for air, the chilled tile floor acting as the only sensation grounding him to reality.

That was his toothbrush. The one he had used the final morning on Earth, just minutes before heading out on the fateful stroll with Pepper.

As he clutched at his chest and heaved, he ransacked his memories of his last day, left even more breathless when nothing clear came to mind. Of course it hadn’t. He’d had no way of knowing he should have brushed his teeth in a more memorable manner, or that he needed to take a final look around his bedroom on the way out the door.

Everything was such a catastrophic collision of then and now. The man who had left his toothbrush on the counter hadn’t given a second thought to the luxury of constant running water or how underpaid the worker who had installed the hefty marble sink had probably been.

Was Peter right? How was the man he had become supposed to slide back into that man’s life?

He knelt on the tile for another minute, gathering the courage to pick himself off of the floor and face his reflection in the sizable mirror fixed above the sink.

With a hefty push, he leveraged himself against the marble and took in his face.

The pinched expression, baggy under-eyes, and untamed beard reflected back nearly sent Tony back to the ground, but he dug his fingers into the edge of the sink and sighed.

“You’ve got this,” he repeated, reaching for the faucet. “It’s just a face.”

Minutes later found him in front of the same mirror, freshly shaven and holding up a faded T-Shirt and a blazer. He glanced longingly at the discarded pile of the clothes he had stripped off before rinsing his body of the weeks worth of desert dust and gas station meal crumbs.

It felt wrong, standing in front of his old mirror with his old clothes, like putting on a costume. He tried on his time-honored PR smile.

Fake-it-till you make it, right?

He found Peter sitting in the living room, hair damp and wrapped in a large blue hoodie as he brightly chatted with Happy. Tony noticed that the boy’s face was a little flushed and eyes were rimmed pink, but Peter only smiled as he entered, beckoning for him to take a seat on the plush wraparound couch.

It’s understandable that he isn’t 100%, he thought, falling into the cushions with a huff. He’s just come back to his birthplace after spending nearly a quarter of his life on another planet. It’d be even weirder if he was totally unfazed .

Happy’s gaze flitted from the clean shave to the change of clothes and nodded in approval, watching carefully as Tony took his seat.

“Happy got a hold of May,” Peter volunteered. “She’s coming as soon as she can and said she’s bringing some friends.”

Tony nodded, letting Peter and Happy pick up their discussion of current events as he leaned into the sofa, eyelids heavy as the day’s dramatics finally caught up to him.

_____

The rest of the day passed by in flashes of action that were immediately followed by lengthy periods of inactivity. 

A bright spot was the reunion of Peter and his aunt. May Parker had stormed into the penthouse in the late afternoon, armed only with a canvas tote and wild hand gestures as she furiously demanded to see her nephew. She was shadowed by a quiet young man who Tony assumed from stories was Peter’s best friend from high school, Ned Leeds.

Upon seeing Peter, several years older and inches taller than he’d been when she last saw him, May had shrieked, throwing the tote to the ground and rushing forward to fling her arms around her boy, sobbing into his shoulder. Ned stood stiffly to the side with wide eyes that darted from Peter to Tony to the lavish living room for at least five minutes before asking a whispered question about space rocks.

It was the most comfortable Peter had seemed all day.

Although the kid looked pleased to see his aunt and friend, Tony still caught glimpses of a strange sadness beneath the joy. He didn’t need to guess where it was coming from, he felt it too.

_____

It was obvious that the people around the penthouse—namely Happy and Steve—weren’t telling him something big whenever he asked about Pepper. Each time he casually slipped her into conversation he was fed the same story: she was on her way as quickly as possible, she was squaring away a few things, and she should be there within the next day or so. 

Maybe she moved on and found someone else? It was a sad thought, but it definitely made the notion of leaving easier to swallow.

The subject of Peter and Tony’s potential return to space remained unshared with their friends and family, each unsure of how to begin to explain the unexplainable: that over the five years they had been declared dead, they had found a new way to be truly alive.

At the end of the long, emotional day, Tony found himself drawn to the guest room where he knew Peter was staying. He rapped gently against the dark wooden door and pushed inside after the small murmur of greeting came from the other side.

Peter lay on his back, dressed in a set of superhero pajamas that May must have brought from her apartment. He glanced up as Tony entered.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Peter rolled over, grabbing a silk-covered pillow and clutching it to his chest. The only light source in the room—a swanky lamp on the bedside table—cast a soft glow on his young face, accentuating the slight downturn of his mouth and the discontent in his eyes.

“It’s seriously weird seeing you in branded clothes again,” Tony commented, dropping onto the foot of Peter’s bed with a huff. “Can’t say I approve of the choice of Avenger, though. Captain America? Traitor.”

“Imagine how I feel seeing you dressed in a suit jacket all day. Felt like I was watching a newscast from high school.”

“Thought I’d try something new...or old.”

“You still pull it off,” Peter assured playfully. “It’s just–”

“Like something from an episode of Twilight Zone?”

Peter’s face scrunched. “Probably. Never seen it.”

“Neither have I,” he admitted. “It’s just a reference people make.”

Peter laughed softly before his face grew serious. “Things are definitely weird right now.”

“With May? Your friend?”

“Nah, they’re all great. Ned just graduated from college so we had plenty to catch up on.”

“Good for him.”

“Yeah, though I think he was more interested in hearing about what I’d been up to. Apparently us living on another planet is–” Peter made air quotes. “–the greatest thing that ever happened to him.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No! Ned is great.”

“It’s just…different?”

Peter sighed, leaning into the pillow. “He’s spent the last five years growing up without me and I have no idea what to do with him. On the flipside, May just lost five years of me growing up and she has no idea what to do with me. ”

“They’ll come around, don’t you think?”

“Maybe…” Peter said hesitantly. “I don’t know.”

“There’s no rush.”

Peter nodded, letting his fingers run along the edge of the pillow case. “Mister Stark?” he said, not looking up from his hands.

“Mhm?”

“I–I think I want to take the job offer. To go back.”

“Oh.”

Peter finally met his gaze and Tony saw a burning resolve. The kid was sure.

“Intergalactic communication is totally possible now,” Peter said hurriedly, “so it’s not like I’ll be completely ditching everyone. Plus, I should be able to come back in just a few years. I said I was choosing home. It felt like home out there.”

“That’s true.”

“You…still want to come with right?”

Past the thick sheet of glass protecting them from the world, the city lights he had once been accustomed to staring at every sleepless night glimmered like ghostly candles in a foggy ocean. He was surrounded by millions of his own species, yet in that moment, Tony could only really say he cared about one: the brilliant young man looking back at him with so much concern, and faith, and love.

“Yeah, kid,” he said firmly. “If you go, I go.”

“Are you sure?”

“We definitely need to stay for a few more days and help out. I need to talk to Pepper, but then…I’m sure. We’ll go back.”

Chapter Text

May 2023

With their departure decided, it was only a matter of a few final hellos before the big goodbye and going back out into the stars. 

The tower was a revolving door of anyone and everyone affected by the “Battle to Save the Universe” as it was being called, so news of Tony Stark’s impossible return had disseminated through the building’s population quickly, making it common-place for the opening of an elevator door to precede anything from barely concealed whispers to a full-throttle bear hug. He rounded every corner anticipating tearful reunions, but there was only one woman with whom Tony both truly yearned and desperately feared reuniting.

The attention was a lot, but he knew Peter was having it even harder. The boy had mentioned plenty of times in their years late nights together that he hadn’t had many friends in high school, but the constant buzz surrounding Tony’s return shone a light on how few people Peter Parker really had in his life.

The kid was at least trying to make the rest of his time on Earth count. He spent hours out of the tower, walking the streets alone or pushing through awkward meals with his aunt where the chasm of time sat as an unwelcome, third guest.

Several days after the return to the city, Peter was out having lunch with Ned and a girl from his high school. So naturally, Tony was sprawled on top of his 800 thread count sheets hiding from well-wishers when the sharp knock rapped three times on his door.

“Come in,” he called out, not even bothering to remove his face from the pillows.

The door swung open just enough for Happy’s head to stick through the crack.

“Tony.”

He lifted his chin slightly off of the duvet. “Yeah?”

“She’s here. In the living room.”

“Oh."

No need to ask who she was. 

He pressed off of the mattress, noting how his legs shook ever-so-slightly as his feet hit the floor and offered his friend a wavering smile. 

“Thanks, Hap. I’ll take it from here.” 

“You’ll be fine, boss,” Happy assured. “Just…stay cool out there, okay? Whatever happens, we’ve got your back.”

It sounded like he wanted to say a lot more, but instead flashed a sympathetic grimace and turned back around. 

The door clicked shut. 

Casting a final glance to the mirror, Tony frowned at his reflection. His precisely-tailored pants didn’t fit his more wiry frame anymore. His face was creased with lines that hadn’t been there when he’d left. His hair was streaked with grey. He made a final half hearted attempt to smooth his shirt before admitting defeat.

The sound of his socks against the pristine floors—each thump carrying him a step closer to the terrifying pull of the living room—was deafening. The ornate art pieces and designer lamps were a blur of black and white, a hazy checkered backdrop for his portentous parade. 

He was closer, then, even closer, then–

Pepper was perched cross-legged on the gleaming leather couch with her back to the entrance. Her hair was elegantly gathered in the achingly familiar ponytail and her shirt was a crisp, lilac cotton. It was the sort of casual only a truly stylish woman could pull off, and it seemed that even the end of the world hadn't changed the fact that Pepper was a truly stylish woman.

He stood in the doorway, frozen as she stared down at something on the couch, probably her phone. The feeling was comparable to the first breath of the Earth’s atmosphere two weeks before: familiar, jarring, completely surreal. 

What was he supposed to do? What did you say to the lost love of your life after five years apart? After you’ve already made the decision to leave her behind for a second time? 

He parted his lips, about to make his presence known when her head whipped around and brown eyes met blue.

Pepper shot off of the couch, hands flying to her mouth where perfect rosebud lips formed an O-shape. A faint cry came through her fingers.

“Pepper,” he said breathlessly, drinking in her appearance. He was sure that even if he had gotten down on one knee and sung a sonnet it wouldn’t feel like enough, but he couldn't help but wish he had more to say.

Were there more creases in the corner of her eyes? Less round in her face? Did she carry herself differently?

Her hands trembled and she stared back like she'd never heard her own name spoken aloud before. “Tony?” 

“Hi.”

“Is–is it really you?” 

He wanted to go for a joke, something witty without being too original, like, Thought you got rid of me, huh? but it felt too real. For the first time, he was being confronted with the only person that he was truly afraid would make him want to stay. If the ponytail of strawberry blonde hair resting on her shoulders made him want to leap over the sofa because ten feet was too far, what could the woman it was attached to make him do?

“Yeah, Pep,” he finally forced out, mouth catching up with his brain. “It’s me.”

Pepper gaped back as if he had crawled straight out of the grave and into their old living room.

“You…you-"

"Aren't dead?"

"Look…older.”

He let out a shaky breath. What had he been expecting, honestly? “Am I even allowed to respond to that?”

“Hasn’t stopped you before.”

“In that case you…still look great.”

Pepper let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Oh, you asshole.”

Ten feet suddenly was too far. Tony broke from his trance, surging forward with reckless abandon.

“Asshole,” a small voice said, stopping him in his tracks.

Little tufts of brown hair were peeking just over the top of the couch.

“Asshole,” the voice repeated and the tufts rose. “I don’t think that’s a very nice word.”

A tiny-teethed, rosy-cheeked face grinned devilishly over the couch.

Tony blinked, as if the living, breathing, human child beaming from five feet away might disappear if his vision cleared.

He couldn’t do anything but stare. On Sakaar, the children often played with shimmering pinwheel toys that spun so quickly that the colors blended together into new shapes and patterns. His mind felt a lot like one of those toys.

“What?” he finally choked.

Somewhere deep below the boulder in the pit of his stomach, Tony understood exactly what was going on, who this girl was. His heart had already recognized what his head couldn’t.

“Tony,” Pepper said softly. “I was going to tell you…”

The child tilted her head curiously, holding up her tiny hand to wiggle her fingers.

“Hi,” she said. Her little voice sounded like a little bell, soft and sweet, ringing through his ears.

“Hello.” he said, voice an octave higher than usual. “I’m–I’m Tony.”

Pepper was carefully observing the interaction as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“I know,” the girl said. 

“Well,” he tried to keep his tone as passive as possible despite the walls of his life crashing to pieces around him. “It’s a little unfair that you know me but I don’t know you.”

“I’m Morgan.”

The name, the age, the timing, the sheer tragic irony of it all. Head caught up with heart in a flash and Tony’s eyes snapped to Pepper.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “No.”

The little girl—Morgan—frowned. Her bottom lip stuck out further than her top. “Yes?”

“No,” he shook his head. “No…absolutely not.”

“Tony,” Pepper said gently, stepping gingerly around the couch.

The vaulted ceilings were crashing down, pressing against him on all sides. He held up a desperate hand, stumbling backwards.

“Tell me this isn’t what I think it is, Pepper,” he begged as if there was any possibility that she would say the child was a stranger who had wandered in off the street.

Her face answered the question before her mouth could. “I–I can’t do that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Do you honestly want me to lie to you?”

“Maybe?” He answered shrilly, before shaking his head. “No. I don’t know. To be honest, I can’t quite process this–” He made a frantic gesture between himself and the tiny girl with the fluffy pigtails. “–right now.”

“That’s completely understandable,” Pepper soothed, approaching as if he were a wounded animal. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through." 

“I–I don't even think I can imagine what I’m going through right now.”

“That’s…okay. Completely understandable.”

“Is it?”

Pepper’s face fell. “Tony, I know this is a lot, but I want you to know that we’ve been waiting for you and we’re so happy you made it back. So happy.”

“The whole time?” he whispered, a modicum of panic bleeding out.

Pepper nodded an apprehensive smile playing across her lips. “You were right. In the park that day.”

A watery laugh escaped from his throat, and his shoulders slumped. “Of course I was.”

A warm hand rested against his forearm. Pepper was looking at him so tenderly.

“She’s four, remarkably precocious, loves glitter and princesses, and has wanted to meet you for a very long time.”

The little girl was fixing him with a round-eyed, disconcerting stare, head tilted so her pigtails were lopsided. She was perfect.

“I…have a daughter.”

Suddenly he was enveloped in warmth and a rich, flowery scent that sent him straight back to lavish dinner parties and late night glasses of wine. Pepper’s ponytail hung over his shoulder as she pressed her face into his neck. He let himself lean into the arms he had almost forgotten to miss, relishing in the comfort for a moment longer.

“We missed you so much, Tony,” Pepper whispered into his shoulder. "Happy said something about…space?"

There was that word again: we. His head spun.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, pulling back an inch from his old fiance’s embrace. “I think I need to sit down.”

Pepper led him over to the couch where the little girl, Morgan, his daughter , sat kicking her feet. Her sneakers had tiny butterflies printed on them.

“Hi,” the girl said again.

Tony’s hands rested heavily in his lap and he swallowed. She spoke so clearly and peered back at him with such intensity.

“It’s…nice to meet you…Morgan.”

Morgan nodded solemnly, rocking back and forth on the cushions.

“Did–did you have to drive a long way?” Tony asked.

“Not really,” she said. “Mommy let me pick the music, so it was fun.”

Mommy . She meant Pepper. Did that make him daddy? Jesus .

“That’s…great. What did you listen to? Do you know any classic rock?”

Morgan wrinkled her tiny nose. “What’s that?”

Tony swiveled towards Pepper, forcing humor into his tone. “Seriously?”

“She’s too young for that,” Pepper said, her eyes growing sad, “and maybe a part of me was hoping that you would still get a chance to teach her.”

“I like Disney,” Morgan volunteered, still staring back at him with her massive brown eyes that made his chest feel like it was made of a thousand blazing suns.

Something shifted inside of him and he leaned forward, extending an unsteady hand.

“I like Disney too.”

Morgan regarded the hand. Another smile broke on her face, though this one was timid. She placed her hand into his palm. It didn’t even reach the base of his fingers.

“You’re my daddy.”

She said it as if it were a casual observation, a declaration of an irrefutable fact. Flames flickered in Tony’s stomach, sending a warmth through his body that he’d only felt before for one other person. Another brown-eyed kid who looked at him with far too much faith.

Peter.

Reality rushed back in like a tidal wave of brutal horror.

The plan. 

Shit.

He let Morgan’s little hand fall out of his, too lost in panic to feel guilty about the surprised hurt on her little face.

He already thought of himself as a father, had since the day Peter had looked him in the eyes and asked if everyone on the God-forsaken planet was dead, but that was through a relationship forged in the blood and tears of survival, with a kid who would never call him dad or need him to cut up his meat into little chunks. 

He’d abandoned this innocent little girl to go and play house in space. No, that wasn’t fair. Peter had needed him. It had been the right call at the time and now was the time for another.

He knew what he had to do, but wasn’t sure he had the strength to do it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I have to–I’ll–I’ll be back.”

“Tony,” Pepper pleaded. “Wait.”

He was already halfway out of the room.

“I’m coming back, Pep. I promise!”

_____

Tony tore through the penthouse, blindly staggering towards his bedroom where there hopefully would be some semblance of solitude. 

How could he possibly have let this happen?

Hours ago, he’d been preparing to leave the planet behind for another foolish adventure with his dearest young companion, the boy who always had saved his life in more ways than physical. Now, he had to stay on Earth. Forever this time. He couldn’t leave with the kid, even if wanted to, even though parting ways would probably kill him. 

The boy—no, the young man—didn’t need him as much as that little girl with pigtails, a toothy smile, and an entire childhood ahead of her. 

Hands found the doorknob and twisted, careening into the too-large bedroom he used to call his own. He tugged at the top button of his shirt, undoing the clasp and letting the air hit his neck as he began pacing the room.

The guilt from dropping Morgan's hand and sprinting out finally caught up to him and he let out a groan, rubbing furiously at his eyes.

Pepper must’ve thought he was a right piece of work. Leaving her to raise their daughter in the ruins of the world only to strut back in five years later, toting someone else’s child.

Did that make him an absent father?

His fists clenched. No. He was nothing like his own father. At least he gave a damn. At least he knew that he had to own up and do the right thing regardless of how much it would feel like raking his feet across scorching coals.

Tony Stark, father of two , he thought wryly. Who would’ve thought?

His face was hot, his pulse swelling with a new wave of nausea as he stumbled over to a sleek chair in the corner, shoving the contents of his bag that he’d dumped upon arrival to the floor and dropping his head in his hands.

How would he tell Peter?

For a moment, he let himself mourn, eyes shut and prickling, breathing heavy and uncontrolled. He imagined the future that would never come to be, the one where two anonymous humans explored the deepest depths of the galaxy with no responsibilities except to each other, laughing over cheap jokes and shared history. 

Then he let it slip away. 

Life wasn’t about great adventures or seeing pretty things. It was about holding those you loved close when they needed you and letting them go when it was time.

Slowly, Tony rose from the chair, legs unsure but firm enough. He took a stride toward the door, but his foot caught on something on the floor and he stumbled, letting out a string of curses as he searched the floor for whatever had impeded his exit.

A book. Stained cover, torn pages, the faded title read The Survivors Guide to the Galaxy.

“Of course it was you,” he muttered.

The book did not respond.

Bending over, Tony gingerly plucked the guide from the ground, running his finger along the cracked spine like he and Peter had done so many times before. What a silly thing. An impulse purchase in an alien gift shop a thousand years ago had made its way across the universe, offering everything from vital instruction to trivial entertainment to the lost humans who’d purchased it.

 “Maybe you still have some use left in you,” he informed the book which maintained its silence.

He tucked it under his arm, took a steadying breath, and continued out the door to begin the rest of his life.

_____

It wasn’t until he was halfway down the hall that Tony realized he wasn’t sure where to go. His destination was supposed to be wherever Peter was, to somehow tell him what had happened without breaking into a thousand pieces, but the boy was probably still out with his friends, spending a final couple of hours with the people he would miss most when he left again. With a lurch, Tony realized that he would soon be joining that select few.

He could always reacquaint himself with the building, he supposed. He had his entire life of labs, offices, and apartments stretching ahead of him, but it couldn’t hurt to regain his sense of direction sooner rather than later.

He spotted the shiny doors as he turned a corner. The elevator. Perfect. He pressed the silver button to go down and waited, tapping a nervous foot to the rhythm of his still pounding heart.

The wall dinged and the doors slid open. Tony surged forward to enter, but found himself colliding head on with another person.

“Oh,” the other person grunted, stepping back into the elevator. “My bad, man—wait, do I know you?”

The person he had slammed into was a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties. He was tall with sandy blonde hair that extended down his cheekbones in an impressive set of sideburns, and a disgruntled expression. 

Fearing it was another employee who would inevitably squeal and make the elevator ride ten times more uncomfortable, Tony began to duck his head and mutter a quiet apology. 

Then, he squinted. 

The man wasn’t dressed like any SI employee he'd ever seen. The red, leathery material of his jacket was similar to fabrics Tony had seen travelers wearing on the streets of Sakaar and the slogan splashed across his T-shirt was written in a distinctly non-human script. 

Recognition hit.

“You were on Titan.”

This was one of the the people he had watch disappear all those years ago, the man who had completely lost it on Thanos after being told of his lover’s murder. What was his name again?

The man’s eyes widened. 

“That’s it!” He snapped his fingers and broke into a beaming smile. “I knew you looked familiar! Man, Titan, talk about a shithole. Hey, that means you’re the guy that owns the building. Now this is a place I wouldn’t mind evaporating to dust in. Great air circulation.”

Tony’ eyes narrowed. “You held a gun to my kid’s head.”

 The man had the decency to look genuinely guilty.

“My bad…” He offered an apologetic smile. “In my defense, I thought he was an actual bug. Or maybe a robot. He’s not either of those things, right?”

“No.”

They stood in silence for a beat inside the elevator.

“Are you gonna…?” Tony gestured to the shiny doors which were already sliding shut.

“Damn,” the man hissed. “I’ll just get off on the next round.”

The elevator chimed and the soft jazz wafted back through the speakers. Tony shifted uncomfortably, unable to ignore the weight of this stranger’s eyes boring into his soul.

“Hey,” the man interrupted Tony’s squirming. “Is that The Survivor’s Guide to the Galaxy ?”

Tony held up the book. “You know it?”

“Sure.” The man shrugged. “There aren’t many Terrans that leave the planet so I make it my business to keep up with this kind of stuff. I’m kind of an expert on the place.”

“Makes sense,” Tony said, faintly recalling a confusing conversation about Footloose amidst the tragedy and loss of their short time together.

“Where’d you get it?”

“A tourist shop on a little vacation planet…” 

He opened his mouth to further explain, but the man just nodded.

“There’s some real hidden gems out there.”

Tony was struck with an indescribable feeling. Here was another human being who knew what it's like outside of the confines of Earth’s protective atmosphere, who likely had seen plenty of planets in his travels. 

“Have you…read the book?” he asked.

“Nah, I’m not much for guides, too much structure.” The man grinned mischievously. “Met the author in a bar once, though.”

Tony leaned forward. “No way.”

“Nasty guy. Stole fifty credits from me while I was passed out. Good enough conversation I guess. He’d actually been abducted from Earth like me…or maybe it was somewhere called Portugal…”

Tony drew in a sharp breath. “You were abducted ? That’s actually a thing that can happen?”

Of course human’s didn’t just end up fighting purple space gods with a team of silly alien friends without extremely dubious circumstances, but abduction? He supposed he had seen stranger things.

The man nodded. “I was just a kid. It’s a really long story, honestly. My dad was a planet, I was raised by Ravagers, went to jail, made friends with a tree.”

“Oh,” Tony said slowly. “Cool.”

“Yeah, saved the galaxy a few times too.” The man puffed his chest out and suddenly Tony wanted nothing more than to get out of the elevator.

“Well, it…sounds like you made a pretty good life for yourself, then.”

“S’not so bad. Crazy sometimes, but those are the best parts.”

“Wild universe out there,” Tony agreed. Then, his eyebrows flew up towards his hairline, a jarring thought dawning. “Wait–you had that ship back on Titan, right?”

How many nights had he laid awake wondering about the people who’d had to leave that nameless ship behind? Now he was face to face with one of its resurrected owners.

“Yeah…but it was gone when we came back. How did you–” Horror flashed on the man’s face. “No."

Tony rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“What did you do with her?” he demanded.

Tony’s expression must have said enough. The man’s face fell. “That bad? Come on, dude!”

“Some fuel cells were cracked during the battle,” he confessed, “but we figured out a way to reverse the ion charge and…to put it in your words, it’s a really long story, but we had to leave her in a machine shop a few years back.” 

“Seriously?!”

“The owner is pretty lazy so I’d imagine it’s still there.” 

The man’s eyes narrowed into snake-like slits. “Where?”

“Middle of nowhere planetary system. I can give you all the information I’ve got. Now that I have my lab I can probably find the coordinates”

The man regarded him suspiciously, but huffed. “Fine.”

“We always wondered, though. Did she have a name?”

“...The Benatar.”

Tony blinked. “Oh. Nice.”

“It’s named after this artist from–”

“I got the reference,” he said quickly.

Standing in the hallway with this strange man who had been torn from his birthplace, was brimming with pop culture references, and looked at him with poorly concealed exasperation, Tony was hit with a rush of familiarity. If it weren’t for the ego and obvious lack of emotional maturity, he would almost feel as if he were looking through a gap in time at an older Peter Parker.

“Did–did you ever miss Earth?” he probed.

“Not really,” the man said casually. “Like I said, I was pretty young when the Ravagers got me. My mom died right before I was taken…like, thirty seconds before actually, so there wasn’t a lot for me here.”

Dead parents. The similarities keep mounting.

Tony shook his head. “I can’t imagine…” 

“It’s life.” The man shrugged halfway, leaning into the elevator wall. “Crazy being back though. Apparently people don’t pay for music any more!”

“Sounds like a dream.”

“I know, right?” The man grinned. “How long were you out there for?”

“We just got back a few days ago.”

“Oh, you’re still fresh then. How’s the adjustment going?”

Tony’s face dropped and the man made a noise of sympathy. “That bad?”

“Between us? I was planning on leaving again,” he confessed. “My kid got offered a job on a mining crew and we were going to go back at the end of the week.“

“There’s decent money in mining,” the man concurred. “What happened?”

“My fiance…” 

“Oof.”

“Has been alive here the whole time…”

“That’s tough.”

“With our four year old daughter.”

The man blew out a low whistle. “Yikes.”

“Pretty much.”

“So you guys are staying then?”

“Just me…” Tony bowed his head, the tide of grief he had been holding off threatening to rush back in. “The kid’s been struggling with the adjustment and I–I couldn’t ask him to give up that opportunity just because I need to own up to my mistakes.”

The man grimaced sympathetically. “For what it’s worth, you seem like you’re already a pretty good father if you’re willing to do that much for your kids.”

“Thanks.” Tony made a face. “If only I felt like it.”

“You’re miles ahead of my dad, that's for sure.”

“The one who was also a planet?”

“And who came back after thirty years to try to get me to kill the entire galaxy. Then, when the plan failed, he tried to settle for killing me instead.”

“Oh. Sorry I asked.”

The elevator chimed and the door slid open, revealing yet another luxurious hallway space. 

“Like I said.” The man lifted his hands in the universal gesture for oh well. “That’s life.”

Tony stepped out of the elevator, keeping a foot between the doors to keep them from closing.

“I thought my old man was bad.”

The man gave a slight close-lipped smile, raising both hands in a what-can-you-do gesture. “Fathers.”

“Fathers.” Tony dipped his head and slid his foot out of the way of the elevator door. “Speaking of which, I need to go find my kid and…talk to him…somehow.”

“Good luck out there, man. Glad you made it back.”

“Thanks.” Tony offered a final half wave as the doors began to close, ready to continue his terrible quest when a final thought came. “I’m Tony by the way,” he quickly added. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

“Peter,” the man said. “Peter Quill.”

The doors shut, leaving Tony reeling and alone in the hallway.

Chapter Text

May 2023

Tony lingered by the elevator for a while, mulling over his conversation with Peter Quill. Of course the guy’s name was Peter on top of everything else.

He debated going deeper into the building. On one hand, the hallway he was pacing holes into the carpet of also held overflow housing for the people involved in the compound rebuilding efforts, so any number of strangers could be roaming about. On the other, going back to his own floor meant running the risk of seeing his Peter. 

He would have to face the kid soon, but that meeting would involve a conversation, and that was a conversation that he would rather run into a billion fawning strangers than have, so he found himself wandering aimlessly, drifting past unmarked doors and tasteful, decorative lamps with a head full of thoughts and a heart full of misery.

At some point, he found a leather loveseat shoved against a massive window at the end of a hallway. It had a view of the elevator doors, but was mostly obscured from foot traffic by a thick, metal column—the work of some bright-eyed futurist architect who Pepper couldn't get enough of no doubt. The beauty of modern architecture aside, it was the perfect spot to stew in turmoil. The few people passing by didn’t seem to pay much mind to the building’s long lost owner brooding in the corner, running his fingers endlessly across the jagged corners of the Survivor’s Guide while life happened around him.

It was the first piece of anonymity he’d had in days. How had he lived decades at the center of attention in every room he entered? How would he manage to return to that scrutinized life after having experienced life hovering around the edges of the action, laughing his way down busy streets, standing in crowds, only noticed by the only one who mattered?

Such questions hung over him like a dark, heavy cloud long past when the shadows cast by the sea of skyscrapers outside of the window began melding together and their lights began flickering.

He watched on as the city transitioned from the steady hustle of day to the vibrant bustle of night and shrunk further into his corner as the hallway traffic picked up, the tower’s overnight occupants trickling back in from their busy days of rebuilding the world like the useful members of society that they were.

Some faces were foreign: agents who had fought in the battle, Wakandan soldiers who had stayed around to lend a hand with the compound. Others were painfully familiar. A massive, bespectacled, green Bruce Banner exited the elevator, lumbering into one of the rooms with a particularly wide doorway. Tony had spoken with him the day before, floored to hear of the transformation his friend had undergone and thrilled to hear the story of how he had withstood the radiation of all six Infinity Stones to bring back those who had fallen.

Scott Lang passed by just minutes later, arm slung around a teenage girl Tony assumed was his daughter. Scott also had missed five years of his daughter’s life. Maybe Tony would reach out later and ask the man for advice...or form a support group for accidental absentee parents.

The elevator chimed again and the silver doors slid open. A woman wearing a white lab coat emblazoned with the SHIELD insignia stepped out, locked in a serious-looking conversation with a man wrapped in a violently red cape and frowning through a well maintained goatee. Stephen Strange.

Tony’s brooding evaporated and he was on his feet before he could fully understand the spike of hot rage surging through his body. His shoes slammed against the sleek floor with each step forward, the ringing in his ears reaching a fever pitch as he stormed up to the sorcerer.

“You,” he growled, the word crawling up from deep in his chest. He stabbed a finger into the golden necklace resting proudly on the man’s chest, taking a perverse pleasure in the whimper that came from the scientist.

Strange only glanced up as if Tony had called a friendly greeting. 

“Oh,” he said, his eyes barely flicking down to Tony's accusatory finger still threatening to skewer his sternum. “Hello, Stark.”

"Hello? Are you serious?"

The scientist’s eyes darted between the two. With a small dip of her head, she hastily slipped away, disappearing through one of the doors lining the hall without a word.

Strange tilted his head. "That was a little rude, don't you think?"

“Is that really all you have to say?” Tony demanded. “After all the shit that’s happened?”

“No–” Strange replied evenly. He started walking towards the windows Tony had camped out next to. “–it wasn't, but I figured I would at least try to start with a greeting. It’s what polite people do.”

Tony stomped after him, enraged that the other man had already taken control of the conversation. “Do polite people also speak in riddles? Or was a smoke signal not cryptic enough for you?”

“I understand why you might be upset–”

“Upset?” Tony hissed, fists clenching into tight balls at his side. “You gave me a damn fortune cookie slogan and then you died!”

Strange came to a halt, turning around to offer another maddening half-smile. “My sincerest apologies. I didn’t exactly have time to draft an eulogy.”

“Don’t fly through asteroid fields, You’ll live, Stay the hell away from Contraxia,” Tony rattled off on his fingers. “You could’ve said a thousand other, actually helpful, things in the same amount of time.” He waved the Survivor’s Guide in the doctor’s face. “This damn tourist book helped me more than your useless self-eulogy ever did!” 

The sorcerer sighed, rubbing at his bearded chin. 

“The future isn’t that simple,” he explained patiently. “And I've never claimed to deal in certainties. I’m a Master of the Mystic Arts.”

“And I’m a Doctor of Engineering, who gives a shit? Do you want to compare dissertations?”

Strange's lips were pressed into a thin line, like an overworked mother waiting to scold her naughty child. “Are you quite done yet?”

Tony ground his foot into the floor, willing himself to keep his cool. As furious as he was, he wanted answers even more.

“You looked into the future. Did you see this?” He gestured vaguely from the window to the hallway. “Me ditching my pregnant wife and unborn daughter only to come back five years later only to have to ditch my other kid?”

"Well-"

"I've been beaten, bruised, and bloody, Strange. I've sweated my ass off in multiple deserts under more suns than I can count. I was a goddamn lunch lady in a space cafeteria!"

The tiniest of wrinkled appeared in Strange's forehead. “Like I just told you, the future isn't that simple.”

“Simplify it then.” 

“Believe it or not, Stark, this universe doesn’t revolve around you.”

“I’ve gotten that one by now, thanks. I just think it's funny how–”

“Let me finish-” Strange held up a silencing hand. "-before you unleash whatever lecture you're clearly dying to spout."

Tony huffed, but for once, did has he was told. 

“On Titan,” Strange began carefully, “I went forward to view all of the possible outcomes of our battle against Thanos."

"I know. I was there."

"I wasn't finished," Strange snapped. "What I didn't say back then, was that, of all of those possible outcomes, you weren’t in a single one.”

“Didn’t get the memo. We were kind of out of the cell network.”

“I thought it was odd,” Strange continued as if he hadn't spoken at all. “I saw that you wouldn’t disappear like I was going too. Then, I saw how in every single scenario, you picked yourself off of the ground and left on that ship with Peter Parker. You didn’t always return to Earth after the battle, you didn’t always make it out alive, but you always stayed with the boy.”

It made sense in his heart, but a part of him couldn’t help but feel the tiniest twinge of surprise that his destiny and Peter’s seemed so inextricably intertwined.

“So what was with the mystery message then?" He curled his fingers into air-quotes. "You’ll find it out there, eventually. The hell does that mean?”

Strange sighed again. “I suppose I was trying to steer you in the right direction, to give you hope?”

"Hope," Tony crossed his arms, anger still simmering but tapered down enough to wait for the rest of the explanation.“That’s it?”

“Like I said, apologies that I didn’t have time to come up with some secret code while my body was disintegrating in front of my eyes. I said what I thought would give you comfort on your journey.”

“Fat lot of good that did me.”

Strange lifted an infuriatingly well-maintained eyebrow. “You’re both here alive aren’t you?” 

Tony scowled. He couldn’t refute it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Where did he get off playing with lives like they were blocks in a children’s castle?

The corner’s of the sorcerer’s lips lifted in a satisfied smirk. “Exactly”

“Did you look any further then?” Tony pressed, unwilling to entertain the man’s ego. “Peep into that crystal ball and see where this is all headed?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s a good thing my job doesn’t rest on your belief in it.”

“Hey, screw you,” Tony took a half-step forward, fists clenched at his side. “If you’re going to be a dick, at least don’t be an arrogant one.”

Strange didn’t flinch, only peering back with a curious frown. 

“Tell me,” he said. “Did you and the boy ever find happiness out there? Of any kind?”

“Don’t try to pull that 'maybe the real prize was all the kids we adopted along the way' crap with me. Not now. Not ever.” 

“Did you have the chance to experience something you otherwise would never have experienced before?” Strange challenged.

“I said, don’t try it.”

“Tell me this, at least. What is Peter Parker like?”

“You’ve met him.”

”Not like you got to.”

“You really want to know, asshole?" Tony threw his hands in the air, ignoring the glimmer of triumph in Strange's eye. "Fine. We were happy. We were stressed, lost, scared, but eventually we were so damn happy. And the kid is perfect. He’s dead smart, he's reserved until he isn’t in which case he’s way too chipper, and he’s funny. He’s so funny even though life dumped the most enormous pile of shit on him by sticking him with me.”

He finished with a ragged breath, every muscle in his body flooded with hot emotion. Strange only pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“Well then," he said. "It sounds like my words didn’t lead you astray after all.”

Tony’s hands shook nearly as much as much as his voice. “So what? I learn to love him like that, like he was my own son, just to let him go?”

Strange tilted his head. “I don’t think that anyone can really do anything but let the universe follow its course.”

“Bullshit.” Tony narrowed his eyes. “Either you’re lying and you know exactly what’s coming or you’re just insane.”

“Even if I were lying–” Strange said coolly, “–if I told you the outcome, maybe it wouldn’t happen.”

“Great. Okay thanks. Screw you very much.”

“Good luck, Stark.”

Tony spun around, stomping towards the elevator which mercifully opened the instant he jammed his finger against the button. He glared over his shoulder as the enigmatic sorcerer disappeared behind the sliding doors which closed just late enough for him to hear the man’s parting words.

“He’s on the roof.”

_____

Peter lay on his back, eyes fixed directly above. It was a clear night, though even a cloudless New York City sky was still colored by the dark yellow haze cast by the millions of blazing lights of the buildings below.

Tony's feet felt like iron anvils as he stepped onto the roof, every inch forward filling his chest with more of a nervous buzz.

Peter didn’t look up, but greeted him with a soft, “Hey.” 

He came to a halt at the boy’s side and stood completely still for a beat, just staring at the kid who had become his world watch the hazy night above.

“Hey, kid,” he finally responded. His voice came out raspy, like he'd been screaming at the sky instead of sulking in an office building. It was more than a little pathetic, but Peter didn't so much as twitch.

“What are you doing up here?”

Tony crossed his arms tightly in front of him, whether from the nerves or the chill he couldn’t say. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m looking at the stars,” Peter answered. “Or at least what you can see from the city.”

“Yeah?”

“I went my entire life thinking that satellites were the only visible stars in the universe. I mean, I knew there was more out there, light pollution and everything, I just could never really wrap my head around it.” 

“That makes sense.”

“Guess I got to see them eventually.”

“Yeah, guess you did.”

Peter finally looked over. His expression was unreadable. 

“What are you doing up here, Mister Stark?”

Tony took the guide from under his arm and tossed it in his direction. “Wanted to give you this.”

Peter caught it effortlessly. “The Guide?” He pushed himself into a seated position, examining the tattered book with curiosity, fingers hovering gently over the cover. “I can’t believe this thing made it all this way.”

“You and me both.”

Tony plopped by his side with a grunt. They were high enough that the sounds of police sirens and honking cars were muffled, leaving the silence that stretched between them painfully empty.

“I heard about Morgan,” Peter said.

"Oh." As much as he didn't know how to tell him, it wasn't how he'd wanted Peter to find out. Was that why the kid had been hiding up on the roof all night? “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that.”

Tony shrugged, as if he had any chance of pulling off nonchalance in the conversation. “It’s the truth.”

“If that’s how you really feel…”

“I just can’t stop thinking about the stuff that’s gone because of the blip,” Tony confessed, unable to come out and say the words that needed to be said. “You know, the stuff that isn’t coming back with a snap of someone’s fingers.”

Peter inclined his head. “Like?”

"All of my favorite shows."

"Oh yeah?" Peter said in a way that Tony knew meant he saw right through the weak attempt at avoidance.

"All of yours too, probably. Less of a loss if you ask me."

"Of course," Peter rolled his eyes. "Old men buying antiques is way more important than real storytelling."

"Damn right it is."

"Is that all?"

He laughed hollowly, eyes fixed on a blinking billboard several rooftops away. "Apparently the Dodgers didn't make it either, and with them went my chance at seeing Steve's face when he realized they moved to Los Angeles."

"Really."

"Yep, and wait until you hear about the Whales in the Hudson."

"Mister Stark."

"Yeah?"

"Cut the bullshit."

"I'm not kidding, they really-"

"Be real with me. What are we actually talking about?"

A thousand acerbic retorts surfaced, sitting just on the tip of Tony's tongue. Peter wasn't a pot stirrer, he would let Tony ramble if he really wanted to. But that wasn't what had brought him to the roof tonight. 

“Morgan's childhood...yours too.”

“My childhood?” Peter made a face. “What about it?”

“How I kind of totally ruined it.”

A noise of disbelief came from the back of Peter's throat. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You almost got trafficked more than you touched actual grass, Pete. You can’t look me in the eye and tell me that G4R-10C was the ideal place to have your eighteenth birthday.”

“Can’t beat the sunsets.”

Tony leaned back and shut his eyes. “At least you kept that goddamn sense of humor.”

Peter’s brows knitted together. “Is that what this is about? You’re coming to interrupt my subpar stargazing to talk about baseball teams and get upset about the kind of person I became?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“That sure is what it sounds like.”

“No…” Tony sighed deeply. He was saying it all wrong. “You just...you shouldn’t have to know what it feels like to be sitting in the dark hull of a trash ship, waiting to see whether or not you’ll make it through the night.”

“Neither should you.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” Peter challenged. “Because you deserved it?”

“No!”

“Then I don’t see what the big difference is. I can't believe it's been years and we're still having the exact same fights.”

“You missed out on so much, kid. You used to be this big.” He held up a hand next to his waist and nearly managed a laugh when Peter rolled his eyes. “I just can’t stop thinking about how you had to grow up and become a whole new person and I get so angry.”

“I don’t.” Peter said.

“What?”

“I don’t get angry about what I missed.”

“Why not?”

“High school is overrated, Ned told me so yesterday. I think he’s just pissed that I technically aged out of the school system while he had to take Calc III.”

“Okay fine,” Tony conceded. “What about missing your friends growing up?”

Peter looked down at the cement with a frown. “Okay...that one is pretty sad, but I never said spending five years stranded in space isn’t a little sad.”

“And the person you were before you left? Don’t you miss him?”

“People change, Mister Stark. Even if I’d stayed on Earth and May had lived, even if Thanos had never dreamt of killing a single person…I wouldn’t be the same person I was five years ago.”

“But-“

“I’ll never know who I would’ve been if I’d stayed behind, but it was never going to be the sixteen year old kid that tried to get you to name our ship after the Millennium Falcon.”

It was such a perfect answer, such a mature answer, that Tony felt the fight drain out of him all at once. He would always worry about his kid, no matter how many light years were between them, but Peter would be okay. And even if letting him go felt like a thousand tiny knives slicing at his heart, so would he.

“I think I remember telling you that name was copyrighted and that we already had a Falcon. Turns out, at the time, I was wrong about the second part. Steve told me earlier that Sam Wilson was one of the fallen.”

“Perfect. Nobody would’ve even known about the copyright infringement.”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh softly, even though his stomach churned more with every passing second. Leave it to Peter Parker to make his goodbye speech amusing.

“About that, I actually talked to the guy who owns it earlier.”

“No way…” Peter breathed, leaning forward in interest.

Turns out, the ship’s called the Benatar.”

“Tell me everything.”

“I apologized profusely for leaving it in a scrapyard in the middle of absolutely nowhere.”

“She’s probably in more pieces than my camera back on Sakaar.” 

“Too soon.”

It was too easy to fall into a quippy back and forth with the kid. Their energies met with a special synergy Tony had never experienced with anyone else before. A part of him was convinced he would never experience it with anyone again. 

“The Benatar.” Peter rolled the word across his tongue. “Is that after a planet or something? I don’t remember hearing about it while working for the scrappers.”

“Try a four-time Grammy Award winning American rock singer.”

“God.” Peter rubbed at his temple as if the news had given him a headache. “This is seriously messing with my brain.”

“Top five most surreal experiences of my life.” 

“Somehow, I seriously doubt it.”

“Maybe top twenty five.”

Peter traced a spot on his knee, eyes fixed on his fingertip as it made methodical circles. “You know," he said. "We never actually knew them, but it kind of feels like we did.”

“Yeah. It kind of does.” 

Tony couldn’t help it. He leaned towards Peter so their shoulders were touching. Peter leaned right back, relaxing into the close contact. The time was coming. He would have to break the news.

“Kind of crazy, right?” he began, heart pounding so loudly that Peter’s enhanced hearing must have been able to pick it up. “How completely strange things can become so familiar over time.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“People…places too.”

“True.” Peter said, expression growing amused. “I can’t believe I ever thought Queens was a wild place to grow up.”

Tony laughed, smothering the fierce shaking of his hands. “I think it could hold its own against some of the spots we visited. It’ll need to catch up on the gladiator-style fighting rings if it wants to top Sakaar, though.”

“I’ll be sure to let the mayor know.”

Silence. 

No more excuses.

“I’m going to miss you so much, buddy.”

Peter drew back, leaving the space on Tony’s side where he had been pressed vulnerable to the chill of night.

“What?” His face was contorted in confusion, as if Tony had spoken a foreign language.

“What?”

“I am so lost right now.”

“Peter…I-I can’t leave Morgan and Pepper. I can’t take the job on the ship. I can’t go out there with you.”

"Oh." Understanding dawned on Peter’s face. “Oh. ”

Tony wanted to curl into a ball and die. He was the worst person in the world, a coward who was so afraid of confrontation that he had misled Peter into a carefree conversation only to crush him with the news of his abandonment, 

“I’m so sorry, kid,” he forced out.

“Mister Stark,” Peter said, and Tony was surprised at the lightness in his tone. “The second I found out about Morgan I knew you had to stay. You wouldn’t be the person I look up to so much if you weren’t.”

Well, that was something.

“Pete-”

“So I’m staying too. In New York.”

Tony’s jaw went slack.

“What?"

"I'm staying here with you."

"No, I can’t let you do that for me.”

Peter looked almost offended. “You aren’t letting me do anything. Jesus, we really do have the same fights over and over.”

It was everything he had wanted so fervently yet hadn’t allowed himself to dream, but now that he heard it aloud, he couldn’t think of anything worse than knowing he was holding Peter back, keeping his kid from reaching the greatest heights of the universe.

“But you said-”

“Let me finish,” Peter held up a disruptive hand. “I was thinking about taking the job when we first got back to New York. Everything was so overwhelming and I kind of just wanted to run away, but on the beach in Florida, I said I was choosing home.”

“And?”

“It wasn’t really space that was my home all those years,” Peter said with finality. 

Tony just stared for a beat, throat tight and heart bursting. He didn’t have to ask what Peter meant. He felt the exact same way. For the first time since laying eyes on Morgan, he let himself hope. 

“I don’t want to make you stay here for me, Peter,” he whispered. “You could do so much. The universe is your oyster and all that.”

Peter chuckled. “Coming from the same guy who once told me to stay in school and stick close to the ground.”

“I think we’re well past that.”

“True,” Peter said softly, looking out at the city. “I do think Queen’s has been missing its favorite hero, though.”

Tony nodded solemnly. “I’ve heard that Daredevil has been really quiet lately.”

“Screw you!” Peter snapped though his eyes sparkled with humor. “That’s Hell's Kitchen anyways, idiot.”

“Of course. Honest mistake.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

Tony laughed, trailing off to face Peter with complete, sober sincerity.

“I’m serious. Last chance. Stay or leave?”

“Stay,” Peter said without hesitation. “I already talked to May this afternoon. She lost our apartment when she blipped so we all can live in the tower for the time being. After that, we’ll just have to make it up as we go along.”

“We’re pretty good at that.”

“Yeah, we are.”

Tony thought about asking more questions, pressing Peter about his decision and ironing out every last detail of their new lives. Instead, he chose to sit in a comfortable silence and admire the stars that he privately thought, even if they were probably just airplanes and satellites, were the most beautiful in the galaxy.

Peter leaned forward after a spell, pressing the ragged guidebook into his hands. “I guess I wont be needing this then.”

“Nah,” Tony protested, voice rough from the tsunami of emotion. “It’s still yours. You found it. You keep it.”