Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stephen watched as Peter bid his friends farewell, his heart aching with something he didn’t quite recognize.

All this could have been prevented, he thought, but he didn’t blame Peter. Not anymore, now that he had proven to be right, after everything. It didn’t mean he condoned his behavior, after all he did destabilize the very spell he asked for, and then destabilized this universe even further by refusing to cooperate and trapping Stephen in the mirror dimension. This could have gotten really bad, and yet Peter was willing to sacrifice what little he had left to save this reality.

Stephen commended him for this, and yet he couldn’t grant his request.

He wasn’t even sure of the reason. There was pity, yes, though it wasn’t quite his style to be compassionate in the face of stupidity. But he understood Peter wanting to cling to the few friends he had left lest he ended up all alone. In a sense, it reminded Stephen of himself, moving heaven and earth to regain his dexterity—and yet, he thought, gazing down at his shaking hands, he’d given it all up to protect this dimension, the Time Stone, not that he succeeded.

But Peter would succeed. All it took for reality to stabilize was that those beings that were after him forgot he even existed. Nothing more, in theory, but if everyone in this reality forgot him, too, it would make the spell that much more stable.

He did make one exception to the spell though. Now that MJ and Ned regarded him with confusion, Stephen still looked over the scene knowing Peter Parker.

If he forgot about him, there was no way to change his past, after all.

Peter turned around, pulling his covers over his head and curling into himself, pressing his eyes shut until he saw stars.

There was a sense of foreboding, of anxiety, that told him to stay here all curled up; not his spidey sense, no, it was quieter. Where his spidey sense screamed at him to warn him of specific danger, this anxiety wasn’t very helpful in providing a cause, quite the contrary. It felt like the entire world was out to get him, but at the same time he knew that wasn’t the case. Still, the knowledge of his safety did nothing to ease his nerves.

He wasn’t even particularly unfamiliar with this kind of anxiety. He’s known it long before his spidey sense—it had shadowed him ever since his parents had died, unspoken worries he couldn’t tell Ben or May about anymore because they had proven time and time again that they weren’t justified. And, well, he didn’t want to impose even more by asking over and over and over again until those worries vanished; after all that might as well never happen.

And Peter’s anxiety had become an even closer friend after … Well, he didn’t really want to think about it so he reached a hand out of his blanket cocoon to grab his phone that he fell asleep with more often than not these days. There was less space to think or feel or regret if his mind was occupied by switching rapidly from Reddit to TikTok to YouTube to some random games that wouldn’t even be that good if it weren’t for the constant hit of dopamine. And while some part of him coaxed with Aunt May’s voice that he should make sure he ate and drank something, and then maybe brush his teeth or take a shower or go outside, something in him pulled on him, demanding he stay in bed, instead. And that voice was louder, always had been since …

Yeah. He’d been able to fight it somewhat, but now, after he almost fucked up this entire fucking reality, the guilt on his shoulders was heavy enough he thought he might never be able to get up again. Just lie here until he died of thirst or hunger, and maybe (probably) piss himself in the process. He couldn’t really find it in himself to care.

What he did care about, and grew increasingly agitated about, was that he couldn’t find his fucking phone. If he was gonna waste away in his bed, at least he wanted to do it entertained, so he did eventually give in and stuck his head out of the blankets.

The sight hit him like a freight train.

He wasn’t sure what he expected—the condo he’s been staying at was completely destroyed now, and besides, he realized he couldn’t even remember getting back to it—, but his childhood room wasn’t it. It was the biggest room he’s ever had, though he wasn’t sure if that was because he’s been even smaller then, and it was plastered in posters about science, Star Wars, and the Avengers. Especially Iron Man. This had to be a dream, even though part of him knew he’d never had a dream so realistically before—and besides, his visual imagination was shit, and it was only marginally better in his dreams. And … and he didn’t know why but suddenly he felt safer than he had in years. A sense of calm washed over him like a warm blanket, lulling him into comfort and soon, back to sleep.

When the light from the Time Stone ebbed down, Stephen found himself in a car and jolted. The steering wheel jerked with the movement, and he barely just managed to avoid driving into the oncoming traffic.

What. The. Hell.

Stephen was pretty sure he’d picked a moment when he was at home to come back to, but he must have missed his destination by a few minutes, or even hours. Fine, then he would rush home, eat something because he realized he was hungry, and then write down everything he remembered since he learned of Kamar-Taj.

And then he would try to keep Peter away from his field trip on the 10th where he would be bitten by that radioactive spider, and then make sure his uncle didn’t die on the 20th, just to make sure he wouldn’t have any reason to become a vigilante in another way, because he didn’t doubt that the boy was smart enough to pull an Iron Man even while getting all his materials from the dumpster if he saw the need. After all, the Time Stone showed that Peter had invented his web shooters that way, and synthesized and improved his web formula in chemistry class, because he had access to materials there and was bored.

It took about ten more minutes until he reached his apartment building, and he took a moment to take in his surroundings. He hadn’t been here until he impulsively decided to sell his apartment and spent every last bit of the money he got for it to sear for Kamar-Taj. Quite stupid, now that he looked back on it, but then again some would probably describe his sudden departure from 2024 the same way, only this time he didn’t just think of himself.

He sighed and got out of his car, then took the elevator up to his apartment and opened his laptop. He had to think about his password for longer than he liked, and when he went to type it in, his eyes found the date and he paused.

December 18, 2015.

About eight days too late to stop the spider bite. Shit.

Well, he guessed he’d just have to make sure Peter didn’t find a reason to become Spider-Man again.

The next time Peter opened his eyes, he reached for his glasses and shoved them on his face without thinking, just to reel when everything was blurry. He blinked, then pulled them down a bit to peer over them, and suddenly he had this overwhelming feeling of déjà-vu. It took him another moment to realize why that was.

The motions of putting on his glasses, just to discover that he could see his room sharply, his childhood room which he was in for some reason, was so familiar to him, but the surge of panic from back then was missing. Because, well, he knew he was Spider-Man now. He hadn’t needed glasses in years, so why did he reach for them before, when he was still half-asleep? And why the hell was he not freaking out? If anything, the fact that he wasn’t freaking out made him freak out more than the fact that he somehow travelled back in time how many years? It was 2024 when the thing with, well, Dr Strange, no, Stephen happened, and now he’d just been bitten by that spider, what? A week ago? He hadn’t pretended to get contacts yet, but he didn’t feel deathly sick anymore.

Fuck. What day was it?

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and turned it on.

Fri, December 18.

Two days before Uncle Ben’s death.

Peter willed himself to remember what happened that day, but it was fuzzy. He and Ned had gone to see the new Star Wars movie that had come out, what, today? Episode VII, he thought. He left home excited that morning, went over to Ned to have his Lola drive them to the cinema, and had an amazing time. And when they left, Peter had turned his phone back on, still distracted by Ned talking … he couldn’t even remember about what. And then he’d been met with about a dozen missed calls and only two messages.

Come to the hospital immediately, followed by a location pin.

Besides that, he only remembered snippets. Sitting in the car as Ned’s Lola drove them to the hospital, staring out of the window. The worry on Ned’s and Lola’s faces. Hurrying along the hospital corridors, and then arriving in Uncle Ben’s room, May with her back to the door. The man had been as white as his sheets, in a stark contrast to his dark curly hair. His eyes were bloodshot and he was sweating a lot. He couldn’t see the gunshot wound, it was hidden by the blanket.

He passed only minutes after Peter had arrived, him and May to either of his sides, holding his hands. The doctor had said that the wish to see Peter was probably the only reason Uncle Ben held on this long.

And besides that? He remembered May telling him what had happened, but he didn’t remember anything she’d told him, at least not verbatim. The only thing he remembered was that it was a robbery gone wrong. It had been Ben’s day off, he’d just run to the corner store to grab some thing or other, he’d forgotten what it was. That was the reason Peter had become Spider-Man, to save other people’s Uncle Bens.

He sighed. That … wasn’t very helpful. But at least he felt something now. He was scared. Not just anxious, no, just really fucking scared. Afraid of facing Ben and May again after what happened, but even more so to lose them again. But he also felt the urge to do something, strong enough to actually send him into action, which had been a feeling mainly reserved for the times after Mr Stark had gotten him strong enough ADHD meds to keep up with his metabolism.

He unlocked his phone after a few tries; he’d adopted a new password after Ned found out about Spider-Man, and urged his best friend to do the same. They didn’t text about it outright, but the messages were incriminating enough should someone look through their chat for long enough. The first thing he did was change his old password to the one he had used before going back in time, then pulled up with his chat with Ned.

Alright, that was that taken care of. And besides that he would try to persuade Ben against going out on Sunday, and if that didn’t work out, he was going to follow him. Make his first appearance as Spider-Man.

Okay. Good. That, he could work with.