Chapter Text
Peter dances around Thanos with the confidence of a madman. He is focused, flipping between portals, just barely tuned into the brawling chaos surrounding him. Strange sets his cloak to wrap around Thanos’s meaty fist, and he sees his opening.
“Magic,” he chirps, popping from a portal by Thanos as he kicks him upside the head, swinging his hips through the kick like Natasha taught him. “More magic.” Thanos roars with fury, and he darts through another portal, popping out behind the giant. His limbs laid heavy with fatigue and he knew it had to end soon, one way or another; he twisted his hips with a final spurt of energy, channeling all his strength into a single, powerful punt.
“Magic with a kick - , ” His breath catches and then rushes out of him all at once as Thanos’s meaty arm catches his leg.
“Insect-!” Thanos roars, and tosses his thin body aside.
“Ough-” he grunts as he crashes into the soft earth, smacking his head as his neck snaps backwards. Distantly, he processes the sounds of fighting, but the dull ringing in his ears smothers any noise. He coughs, the scent of iron filling his nose and mouth as he rolls onto his side. The pull of the earth coerces him back to the comfortable ground, a suitable bed for his weary limbs, but he resists, spitting blood from his mouth and wrenching open his eyes as he leaps up. Thanos is yanking the gauntlet with all his might from Strange’s energy ropes, and he webs him into place.
“ Iron Spider ,” Peter coughs around a mouthful of smoke. “Could really use your help right now!” He feels the familiar yet disconcerting movement of the suits’ mechanical legs as they anchor him to the battleground, barring his body from being flung with each of the titan’s thrashes.
His gaze snaps upward as a scream echoes- Mantis’s, as she falls from one of Strange’s portals. Thanos bellows in fury as she falls, flailing, onto his shoulders, fingertips stuck fast to his temples.
“Is he under? Don’t let up,” Tony barked. Tears slipped from the corners of Mantis’s eyes, and her mouth flung open as she let out a wail. “Parker, help!” Peter rescinds his hold on Thanos, immediately jumping to help Tony pry the gauntlet from his fist. “Get over here, she can’t hold on much longer, let’s go.” He hears Star-Lord interrogate Thanos, but ignores his gossipy instincts in favor of wrenching the glorified glove from his hand.
He realizes this as a mistake when Quill rears back his fist and Tony screams . It is a guttural, desperate noise and then he’s being flung backwards with the weight of the gauntlet. Mantis and Star-Lord and Strange and- God, even Tony - are thrown like ragdolls, and Peter can just catch Tony before they’re hurtling towards the ground. His metal legs dampen their fall, but just barely; he feels his teeth slam upwards into his skull.
“He has the gauntlet, Tony,” he screams, and already his mentor is shooting into the sky. He watches him splay his limbs in a futile attempt to catch the moon hurtling down from above. He tears his gaze away as both the massive rock and Tony crash into the earth.
Thanos has Strange by the neck, and a pit inside his stomach knows they’ve already lost. He lifts him and slams him into the ground, and something inside of Peter breaks in time with the thump of his body.
“If you throw another moon at me,” Tony declares, dropping in from above, “I’m gonna lose it.”
He is so badass. Peter thinks he might lose it himself as the guided missiles detach from the back of the Iron Man suit and explode on Thanos’s body. Tony launches into a roundhouse kick, and Peter understands why Natasha was so frustrated with his kicks. His scrawny teenage body looked nothing like the fluid motions Tony showcases as he immediately follows with his fist. With a ragged breath, Thanos flings his arm upwards, sending Tony sprawling, only for him to land on his feet and react with charged punches. Thanos stumbles backwards.
He rips Tony’s helmet from his suit, and Peter’s heart drops from the sidelines. Thanos pummels him, shooting him to the side, but Tony won’t stay down . Thanos rips Tony’s saber from his fist and stabs him through the stomach with his own knife.
Peter hears Tony’s ragged breaths as everything freezes.
“You have my respect, Stark. When I’m done, half of humanity will still be alive.”
“Spare his life,” another voice echoes, “And I will give you the stone.” Strange. Thanos takes the stone, and the air rushes from Peter’s lungs- out of relief or fear, he doesn’t know.
Thanos disappears, and time stands still.
“Something is happening,” Mantis mutters, and then she dissolves into ashes. Peter feels vomit lapping at the back of his throat, and he chokes. Drax looks at the empty space where Mantis was, and then up at Star-Lord.
“Quill?” He is gone before Quill can respond. Tony watches in an identical, desperate expression of horror to Peter’s.
“Steady, Quill,” he says in apprehension.
“Oh, man,” Quill breathes, and then he is dust.
“Tony,” Strange utters, and Tony turns to face him. “There was no other way.” Peter looks him straight in the eyes as he sucks air into his lungs for a few moments more, and he swears he sees him wink before he disintegrates.
“Mister Stark?” Peter whispers.
Tony turns, and the look on his face is broken and terrified.
“I don’t feel so good,” he stumbles.
“You’re alright,” Tony says. It is all he can say.
“I don’t, I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t know-” and then he is falling, tumbling into Tony’s arms. His strong embrace just barely holds his limp body up, and Peter clings onto his mentor’s neck as hard as he can. An airy wind brushes his wrists. “I don’t want to go,” he whispers, and he barely holds back the tears pricking his eyes. “I don’t wanna go, sir, please,” he begs, “please, I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go.”
Tony lays him flat onto the ground. Peter swallows the sobs trying to wrench themselves from his throat and looks Tony in the eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and the ground gives way and he is plummeting past the soft earth. He flails as he slips from Tony’s grip, limbs flapping wildly through the darkness that has seemed to swallow him whole. In only an instant does he seem to smack against stone, his neck snapping backwards upon impact and sending waves of pain through his body. His eyes screw themselves shut as a scream rips from his throat. His fist smacks against his chest, and he realizes dully that he is gripping something in his palm.
He can feel things. That’s good, right? he thinks to himself through the agony. At the distant forefront of his mind, Peter senses through his mask the gentle thrumming of rain on his cheeks.
Does the afterlife have rain? he wonders, and tugs his eyes open. If the ambiguously-stained alleyway walls were anything to go off of, he doubts he’s dead. The afterlives he was taught in his Sunday youth group seem classier than a puddle in the strip of cobblestone behind what appears to be a very unpopular restaurant. Maybe it was the environment that put people off. Peter suspected that the all-gray color scheme littered with used needles and broken glass didn’t give off a very welcoming energy. But, hey, who was he to judge? He’s a sopping wet guy in tights laying in that very alley.
Speaking of- where is he? Peter pulls his knees to his head and props himself up on his elbows. He doesn’t recognize this backstreet, meaning he definitely isn’t on Spider-Man’s territory. The back wall of the restaurant (an Outback Steakhouse, upon further inspection) connects to a series of other buildings covered in slews of pigeons. Most seem abandoned, with broken windows likely shattered by squatters looking for a warm bed. He sees a glimpse of shadow in one of the windows, but, truly, he has bigger problems right now than a homeless guy with a place to sleep. Peeling himself off the ground, for one. He drags himself to his knees, then stands up. His muscles tense with the excruciating pain of moving, and he pauses to relax each limb slowly. His mind wanders to Aunt May teaching him this after Uncle Ben died and he got diagnosed with Anxiety. He slips into that warm memory, with her hands on his- “Squeeze, Peter, now let go- feel the tension drain away, bud. You’re doing so well” . He wonders if Aunt May is still alive. He wonders how he’s alive.
He feels something small and firm drop from his fist onto his foot and spooks. Honestly, he has no idea how he jumped that high without scaring off the birds, but he lands uncoordinatedly on the wet ground and slips.
“What the hell was that?” he mutters, and peers down at the ground where he stood a minute ago. No fucking way , he thinks, and that just about sums up his thoughts. A tiny, softly-glowing stone blinks up at him. It illuminates his palm a soft orange as he picks it up and studies it. “The Soul Stone,” he whispers.
“That’s right,” someone says behind him, and Peter shoves the stone down his suit and springs into a defensive stance. Something about this HIV-ridden alleyway gives him a bad feeling. He faces a dirty man with a pinched expression and penny loafers and labels him as the guy in the window.
“Do you need something, sir?” Peter’s not one to judge based on looks, so he amplifies the friendliness of his Spider-Man identity.
“Your wallet, phone, and whatever jewelry you just shoved in your pocket,” he drawls. “Would’ve just been the gold, but you had to notice me sneakin’ up on you.” Peter stares at him incredulously.
“You… spoke to me. I don’t think that counts as sneaking up on me,” he deadpans. He’s seen guys like this before: lowlifes who end up on the streets and resent the idea of working for money. They don’t usually expect a fight, and usually don’t come prepared for one.
“I did not. Now, give me what you got, or we’re goin’ to have a problem.” Peter furrows his brow, but tenses his stance regardless. Just the shift of weight sends pain shooting through his limbs, and a nagging feeling behind his eyes warns him that this is a bad idea .
“No, thank you,” Peter smiles, and the man charges at him. He flicks his web shooter absently at the mugger, not bothering to get into a whole fight with his sore body. It clicks empty. “Shit,” he squeaks, and crawls up the wall of the Outback. “Hey, man, can we not do this right now?”
The mugger pulls out a gun and cocks it. Peter’s eyes widen through the suit.
“You a meta?”
“No-?” Peter guesses, suddenly overcome by a tingling at the nape of his neck. As he throws himself to the alley wall opposite the Outback, the gun fires at his last position. The mugger- Dave, he’ll call him- spins to shoot at Peter from a new angle, but he throws himself down onto the man and kicks the gun from his grasp. He adjusts his form as he repeats Natasha’s words to himself- twist your hips, follow through. He’s taking a leaf out of Tony’s book, he guesses, and a lump finds its way into his throat. Tony, who watched Peter die five minutes ago- Peter, who should be dead .
Why isn’t he dead?
Dave must have seen Peter pause and taken advantage of it, because there is a loafer between his already-cracked ribs and his head is slamming against stone for the second time today. Spots swim in his vision and he feels bile force itself from his throat and onto the ground. As he clings to consciousness, he feels hands pat his sides and shove him, apparently searching for pockets of some sort.
“Where the fuck did you put that thing in this costume, kid?” Dave nudges Peter with his foot. He only groans in response, letting his healing factor repair some of the damage he got from, well, everything . Dave steps back.
“Look, clearly you’re not from here. I don’t know what’s with the,” Dave gestures wildly, “ getup , here, but get out of here while you can. Gotham’s not a place for costume parties, no matter how much the Bats and the Birds make it seem like one. Just, get lost.” He turns, dejectedly empty-handed, from Peter’s body sprawled against the wall. With a final glance back, Dave disappears into the gloom of the rainy alleyways.
Peter has so many questions. The first of them being, Gotham? The second one comes in the form of a realization, and that is that Dave does not know who Spider-Man is.
The third, Peter discovers as he reaches into his suit, and it is that he does not know where that Infinity Stone went .
He is so fucked.