Chapter Text
It was pure pandemonium.
Peter honestly doesn’t remember most of the first few weeks after the snap. Ned says it’s because he disassociated for most of it, and that might be true.
Steve Rogers, gone. Natasha Romanoff, gone. Clint Barton, Thor Odinson, Pepper Potts, aunt May, nearly four million human beings, gone.
Tony. Gone.
It took months and months and months for things to go back to some semblance of normal, if it can even be called that. Half of the Earth was gone. Doctors, lawyers, teachers, policemen, business workers, gone. Everybody the world needs to keep it spinning, erased.
The whole planet was in disarray and Peter was just along for the ride. Holding his mentor-possibly-father as he crumbled into dust was an indescribable pain. In Peter’s nightmares, he hears Tony whisper an apology as his body turned to ash in the wind, an agonized look on his face.
He remembers looking around in incredulous disbelief, watching as Black Widow took a step forward towards Hawkeye, before her body was dusted. He remembers hearing Clint cry out in fear before he was subject to the same fate.
He remembers watching Bucky Barnes grasp the ground where Steve Rogers once was, his head bowed and face pained.
The Avengers. All the original Avengers, gone . The news broke on Earth and it caused mass panic. Doctor Strange had come up to Peter in the week after they arrived back home, imploring him to restart the Avengers. Peter pushed back at first, still reeling from losing everyone and firmly believing he wouldn’t be right for the job. He told the man to find somebody else.
Then Strange told him there was nobody else. And Peter was forced to take on the job.
He gathered together the scrappiest, put-together-by-desperation-and-pure-insanity team this side of the universe had ever seen. Sam Wilson and Bucky were obvious choices and more than willing to take part. MJ and Ned were less willing. Ned chose to remain “the guy in the chair” working on tech and comms. It took months of convincing and a brand new, specialized suit that Peter created to get MJ on his side, but she eventually caved.
Harley Keener was a surprise. Mere days after the snap, someone broke into the tower. Fully prepared to whack someone with a frying pan, Peter nearly knocked him out. After explaining his connection to Tony, Harley quickly joined the team as Ironlad.
That’s all they had. One super soldier. One enhanced spider. Four regular humans- three of them under the age of 18- with highly advanced tech. And occasionally a magical wizard. Great.
When things finally settled, or settled as much as they could, Peter began to spiral. His nightmares kept him up, he couldn’t concentrate in school, every day was a reminder of the family he lost and the hope they took with them.
He missed Tony and May like he was missing a limb. Peter chose to live in the tower full time once he got back from the Titan. With May gone, he couldn’t bear the idea of going home to an apartment that smells of jasmine and lilies, and could bear even less the thought of that scent fading.
Peter forgets Tony is gone. He speaks aloud in the lab, expecting to hear a rough chuckle or a witty comment in return, but when he turns, the room is empty. He still gives Karen rundowns of his patrol, sending them off to an inbox that will never open again. On the worst days, he sits on a rooftop, listening to Tony’s voicemails on repeat, pretending like when he goes home, the man will be waiting for him.
Once, Peter creeped into the master bedroom in the penthouse, where Tony and Pepper slept. He pulled out an MIT sweater of Tony’s and pressed it to his face, choking on sobs at the scent of cinnamon and motor oil.
Miraculously, Peter was able to pull himself together enough to finish highschool alongside MJ, Ned, Flash, and the very few others in their grade who managed to slip the snap. That’s what they called it. The snap. 50% of all life, gone. How do you recover from that?
Humanity persists. It always has. So does Peter.
He takes over Stark Industries a few days after his 18th birthday, mere weeks before beginning his first semester at Columbia. MJ worried he was taking too much on: Owner- in training- of SI, Spider-man, leading the new Avengers, and double majoring in Biochemical Engineering and Business.
She didn’t need to worry, though. It distracted him. The work pulled him out of the mess of grief he was locked into for two years post snap. Bucky and Sam worked with him, taking the brunt of the work for the Avengers.
Sam lost a large chunk of his family, including his sister Sarah. Bucky loves to make jokes about him and Steve “switching roles”. Weirdly enough, they never land. Despite their less than stellar meeting- which both men have teased Peter endlessly about- he’s come to find their presence comforting. On bad days, when Peter holes himself up in the lab, Bucky brings him fruit, squeezing his shoulders. Sam takes him on runs. It helps.
Now, nearly five years post snap, Peter’s mostly gotten his life back together. He’s nearly finished with his junior year of college and he’s preparing to take over the company in full. MJ officially took over Pepper’s position, working as CEO and bearing the brunt of paperwork and the business side of the company.
Harley works as the head of multiple departments, while Ned works in cybersecurity. Peter never would’ve been able to get where he is without his friends. But he’s still so goddamn tired.
There’s homework, exams, lectures, business meetings, superhero meetings, patrols, and the occasional alien invasion. Peter’s been running on practically nothing since Tony died. He misses the man so much . Time has not dulled the grief. He’s just pushing through it.
The hope of everyone coming back was lost years ago. People had left that dream in the past, accepting their new lives as it is. Peter himself did move on. He’s nearly finished with college, he’s about to be the owner of Stark Industries, and he leads the literal Avengers. But it hurts. It always hurts.
Until Scott Lang.
And the hope returned. Scott was run ragged and desperate. He met with Peter at SI, the rest of the new Avengers in the room, and begged Peter to hear him out. He insists quietly that Peter is the only one who could figure it out. Heart pounding and hands shaking, Peter agrees to try .
There’s a chance. A miniscule, insane, improbable chance. But Peter’s always been good at defying odds.
He nearly stops sleeping entirely. He works during the day and runs models well into the night. His friends try to pull him away. MJ sighs and kisses him lightly before falling asleep on the couch next to him. Bucky sits with him, allowing Peter to rant and speak his ideas out loud, even if he doesn’t understand any of it.
10%. 12%. 8%. 23%.
Weeks of trying and failing, ignoring the concerned and hopeful gazes of those who enter the lab. He spends many nights breaking down in tears, head in his hands. Peter nearly gives up multiple times, sometimes throwing tools or punching walls in frustration.
One night, after another failure, Peter sits on the floor with a hitching breath, staring up mournfully at the red 57% on the screen. Bucky, MJ, and Ned walk through the doorway, pausing at the sight before them.
Puffy-eyed, Peter’s face crumples. Immediately, there’s two soft hands on his faces, pulling him into a shoulder. Vanilla and coconuts. MJ. She holds him tightly, pressing firm kisses to his hair as he falls apart. From behind, Ned rubs his back up and down.
When he comes back to himself, he’s so exhausted, it hurts to keep his eyes open. MJ smiles sadly at him, kissing the space between his brows. She shifts aside to make room for Bucky, who crouches in front of Peter, hands going to lay on his shoulders.
“If you want to stop, you can stop.” Bucky says softly.
Peter shakes his head, more tears pouring out of his eyes. “I- I need, I’m close I know it, I-” He stutters.
From his place at Peter’s back, Ned lets out a mournful breath, “Pete, this is killing you. We were never certain this would work. I know we’ve all been hoping, but if it can’t happen, it can’t happen.”
Peter sniffs, wiping his cheeks. “I just,” his voice breaks, “I miss him so much. I miss all of them.”
MJ pulls him back into her, the side of his head resting on her chest. Bucky stares at him sadly, his hand moving to brush the stray hairs away from his face.
“I do too. But we can’t lose you like this, Peter. You’re so smart and strong and persistent, you’ll die before you stop trying.” Bucky says.
Peter doesn’t respond because he knows Bucky is right. He just feels so guilty. The entire universe is banking on his intelligence, even if they don’t know it. He could make everything right again if he just tried a little harder.
Bucky takes an anticipatory breath, making eye contact with Ned and MJ before turning back to him, “If this doesn’t work by the end of the month, we’re gonna have to let it go.”
Peter reels back, mouth gaping in shock. “ What? No, no, you can’t do that. I’m so close, I promise, please-”
“Peter, you’re going to die if you keep going this way. We can’t lose you too.” MJ whispers, knocking her forehead with his.
Peter looks at Bucky imploringly, but the man just tilts his head sadly. He runs his hand over Peter’s hair, undoing some of the knots. All at once, Peter loses all the fight in his body, the exhaustion taking over. Ned pulls him into his chest, holding him tightly.
Eventually, he nods. “Okay.” he says.
“Okay?” Bucky.
“End of the month. Then I’ll stop.” Peter whispers.
But of course, on September 29th, the holoscreen turns green.
Peter falls back into the chair heavily, eyes scanning the screen in disbelief. 99.89% match. He did it. He figured out time travel.
Harley sticks his head in the room worriedly, “I heard a bang, what’d you do now, Parker?”
Harley takes in Peter’s gaping mouth and wide eyes pointed towards the holoscreen, and everything clicks. He rushes towards it, breathing picking up as he reads the information.
“Holy shit.” He breathes.
“I figured it out.” Peter says almost casually.
Harley nods. “You figured it out.” He echoes.
Harley looks down at an exhausted, incredulous Peter. He’s been looking ill for months, almost worse than the first few weeks after the snap. He’s been working himself to the bone after the ultimatum was given, skipping out on sleeping and eating. When he isn’t in the lab, he’s holed up in his office working for SI.
Peter, gaunt faced and pale, doesn’t take his eyes off the screen, shaking his head in shock, “What the fuck do we do now?”
—--
It was absolute mayhem . There’s bodies littering the floor, alien and human alike. Peter’s swinging around, tossing web grenades and punching his way through the battlefield. Strange had opened up the portals and hundreds of people came to stand by the Avengers.
But even in all this chaos, even with every alien Peter took down, his head was on a swivel for one man. Peter caught a glimpse of Captain America shouting orders and an arrow that could’ve only been shot by Hawkeye. They were back. It really worked. He hadn’t yet heard the sound of repulsors or an ill-timed quip, and this far into the battle, that was worrying.
He’d seen Ironlad flying around, as well as the suit made for Pepper Potts, but no signature red and gold.
He couldn’t focus all of his attention on Tony, though. Peter was needed everywhere . Thanos was wreaking havoc on all of them, taunting them as they were all but pummeled into the ground. People felt better when they saw red and blue fly above them, giving support and calling orders with the same authority as Steve Rogers.
Peter was but a flash of color, swinging so fast around the battlefield he was practically a blur. At one point he was swinging mantis to safety and the next he was back to back with MJ, who was blasting laser beams left and right.
Minutes, maybe hours passed, Peter had no idea. He was already exhausted before the battle began, but now he’s running on fumes. But this is it. They win or lose. No matter what happens, Peter will finally be able to rest.
“Peter!” Harley calls from above, and he only gets a second to glance up at the boy before the gauntlet is dropped into his arms, gems gleaming.
His breath hitches as he stares at it. Peter looks around, searching for Captain Marvel, who they designated would use it. Before he has a chance to find her, he’s thrown in the air.
Peter lands on his back, clutching the gauntlet tight in his arms. He looks up, eyes widening at the looming purple alien stalking towards him. Peter scrambles back, webbing the gauntlet to his chest.
“Little spider,” Thanos calls, “this is not your fight. Give me the gauntlet.”
Peter scoffs, “You took everything from me. This is absolutely my fight.”
He won’t remember much of the fight later, only feelings of pure fear and adrenaline pushing him forward. Peter webs Thanos in the eyes, going on defense so he can get away. The alien rips off the webbing, eyes alight with fury.
Peter’s thrown around like a rag doll, the gauntlet sticking to his body by pure spite. He practically flies around Thanos’s body, throwing punches and kicks to every body part he could touch.
He begins to slow down, his body shutting down on him. Thanos gets a good hit to his stomach, an echoing crack resounding in his ears. He lays on the ground, wheezing and choking on air. His whole body is one big bruise. There’s sprains and lacerations and blood everywhere, and his lack of nutrition and sleep isn’t doing much to heal him.
Peter tries to sit up, but his chest is on fire. He only lifts his neck before pain laces through his body. Thanos stumbles towards him, looking worse for wear. Peter holds the gauntlet tight, breath heaving. The alien will have to kill him before he can rip Peter off of it, and Thanos knows it.
Just as Thanos is about to deliver the final blow when a bright flash of light passes by. Peter nearly cries out of relief when he catches sight of short, blonde hair. Captain Marvel stares in horror at the sight of Peter, her gaze hardening as it turns to Thanos.
With the last of his strength, he chucks the gauntlet towards Carol, watching as she shoots off. Thanos roars in fury, disregarding Peter completely and going after the woman. He lays there breathing, trying to force the burning feeling from his chest.
He needs to get back up. There’s still aliens scampering around, trying to kill his friends and family. He’s the leader of the Avengers, people are relying on him.
Peter’s able to get to his butt, one hand steadying him on the ground and the other clutching his stomach. His eyes catch on a ragged-looking Sam, who's going hand to hand with an alien twice his size. Peter’s about to force himself to his feet to help when Sam punches thin air.
Nearly tipping over from the force of it, Sam stares bewilderedly at the alien who puffed into dust. Peter’s eyes widen, looking around the battlefield. All across it, the aliens on Thanos’s side turn into ashes one by one.
She did it , Peter thinks. He can only hope that Captain Marvel is strong enough to stay alive. Relief fills his body like a wildfire. They did it. Holy shit, they really did it.
“ Peter! ” Harley's distinct voice calls. Peter snaps his head towards the sound, nearly laughing in relief at seeing the boy.
Harley rushes towards him, scanning his body worriedly. He clasps Peter’s forearm, pulling him up slowly. He sucks in a breath at the blood covering the spider-suit.
“Shit, Pete, are you alright?” He asks.
Peter nods, gripping Harely’s forearms, his legs trembling with effort. There’s a loud sob to their right and soon after, MJ crashes into them both, pulling away with apologies when Peter hisses in pain. Her fingers curl under his mask and pull it off, allowing Peter to breathe easier. His eyes are wild with panic and pain as he leans on Harley. MJ cups his cheeks, forcing him to look up, “You’re okay, you’re alright, we’re alive. We did it, Peter, we won.”
Peter knows they did, and he couldn’t be happier about it. All of this work, all the pain and suffering and sleepless nights led to this. They beat Thanos and now, everyone’s back. Well, almost everyone.
Peter shakes his head, “No, no, Mr. Stark. Where’s Mr. Stark?”
Harley looks up, eyes scanning the field. Steve and Bucky are in a tight embrace, Bucky curling his fingers into Steve’s hair, swaying them side to side. He looks away just in time to see Bucky swipe Steve over the head with a wet laugh.
Clint and Natasha are hand in hand, more confused than anything else. They talk urgently and quietly with Bruce, who looks utterly relieved to see them.
Peter Quill sits despondently on the ground, tears rolling down his cheeks. Rocket stands next to him, a paw on his shoulder.
There are people hugging and crying and cheering and laughing. Portals have been opened and Wakandans have begun to carry people through them. There’s a feeling of victory in the air, muddled slightly by grief and confusion, but there nonetheless.
But still no Tony.
“I- I don’t-” Harley stutters.
Peter’s face crumples, “No, no please, everyone else came back! He should’ve come back too , it should’ve worked! Please, please Harley I can’t do this again.”
Harley looks at MJ despairingly, his arms coming to wrap around Peter’s shoulders. MJ folds herself into the hug too, pressing a kiss to Peter’s dirty cheek. He sobs quietly, shaking his head in disbelief.
Bucky and Steve make their way over, body’s relaxed and relieved, but eyes concerned. Bucky takes one look at Peter and rushes to his side, pulling him away from Harley.
“Kid? Pete, are you hurt?” He asks.
Peter, face red and snotty, rests his forehead against Bucky’s chest, “Please, please tell me you’ve seen Mr. Stark.”
Bucky looks up, then around at the people gathering, absentmindedly stroking the hairs on Peter’s head. He makes eye contact with Steve, who nods.
Peter cries into Bucky’s suit, grief taking over every inch of his being. Bucky is trying to pry Peter off, his urgent voice coming muffled through Peter’s ears. He tried, he tried so hard, for it not to work. All this work, everything he did, and Tony isn’t here. He’s the whole reason Peter even said yes, aside from May.
God, if Tony didn’t make it, what if May didn’t either?
Peter doesn’t think he’ll be able to take it if everyone comes back except his family. Bucky taps his back incessantly, trying to get Peter to listen, but he just can’t. He’s been running on hope and fear for months, he can’t let it be for nothing. He wants a hug from his dad so bad and he’s still not here.
It doesn’t make sense. It’s not fair .
“Underoos?”
Peter’s head snaps up from its place on Bucky’s chest, searching desperately. All the panic floods from his body when his gaze lands on the caller. A face he hasn’t seen in five years. Tan skin, graying hair, kind eyes, and the most relieved, worried expression the man’s ever had.
Tony.