Endgame 2.0 (A Peter Parker and Avengers fanfiction)

Chapter 3

I have no editor and I'm writing this at 1 AM so I apologize for any grammar mistakes.

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Peter's eyes locked on Mr. Stark's, chest heaving, and he immediately thought back to the last time he'd seen the man.

I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go, Mr. Stark, please-

Mr. Stark looked confused, eyes raking over Peter's form, clad in the Iron Spider suit (and probably covered in blood and dust).

"Peter?" the man asked, taking a step towards the boy, and that was all he needed to bolt into Tony's arms, shaking as his own words circled endlessly in his head.

Peter was once again reminded of their impromptu hug. He hadn't realized until now that it was actually their first hug.

And your last. His mind prompted.

No, no, not going there. I'm alive, I'm here, I don't know how, but I'm here. he insisted.

He was holding onto Mr. Stark as tight as he could, mind on default as it tried to hold itself together, not realizing that the threat had passed. The man in question staggered back in surprise at the weight, but he held him up nonetheless.

It took him a couple of moments to realize that Mr. Stark, despite holding him up, was completely rigid, and Peter felt horror wash over him as he realized, once again, exactly where he was, and more importantly, what time. 

He was in Leipzig, meaning that he- or the past version of him- had only met Tony Stark a week ago. They hadn't gone through any bonding moments, he hadn't had his suit taken away or fought the Vulture- he hadn't worked with Mr. Stark in his lab yet (that would be in a couple more months), and he hadn't taken the picture with him holding his internship certificate, which was the moment where they really cemented their- dare he say- 'father-son relationship.' (Neither of them had ever wanted to admit it, for fear of their pasts coming back to bite them- Mr. Stark with his father's crappy parenting and Peter with his 'every-one-of-my-father-figures-died').

With these thoughts racing through his mind, he stepped back from the man, tears streaking his face, yet he held himself as rigid as the person across from him.

"Underoos, what-" Mr. Stark said, cutting himself off as he took in the sight of Peter again. Peter's mind was supplying him with all the things that were different between this Mr. Stark and his Mr. Stark. This one was wearing his old armor, clunky and slower compared to his sleeker nanotech suit. This one held himself stiffer, jaw clenched- though Peter supposed that was because he'd been dropped right in the middle of a battle- and was sporting the nasty bruise on his right eye that Peter remembered he'd tried to wink with when they first met. Though most importantly, this one had the harsh undertone when speaking to Peter, the two not yet acquainted more than members of the same team in battle, and it contrasted sharply to the fonder, softer tone Mr. Stark usually had while speaking to him.

Peter's brain could take substantial amounts of stress, especially given the situation, but it couldn't take these changes on top of everything else. Through most the changes in the past two years of his life, Mr. Stark had been a constant- his rock- there to support him through all else. And these differences between this Tony and his Tony were harsh, grating on his senses, and he broke down, tears streaming down his face now.

In any other situation, he'd be embarrassed to be crying so openly in front of every single Avenger (bar Bruce Banner and Thor). But he'd just died, and everything else paled in comparison.

"Mr. Stark." he choked out, crumpling to the ground, hyperventilating. He knew this was a panic attack, and he was waiting for Mr. Stark to be there, to coax him to breathe. But as he looked up, the man was standing there, hesitating, unsure of his place because what was going on, what was he wearing, where is the normal Spider-Man suit, and what the fuck is going on.