Irondad & Spiderson · One-Shots

Back

Summary; I don't even know—it's after the snap when Peter returns home to a changed May

I just felt like writing something

Includes trans Peter

"Underoos!"

Peter's vision was blurry. Dark spots clouded it, appearing and disappearing. He was hungry, weak and tired. A faint sound resonated in the back of his head, one which gave him hope. His hero's voice. No, not the mechanical voice of Iron Man. The man himself, Tony Stark. It was the first time in . . . however long it had been Peter had felt . . . anything, really.

The last few months, or maybe years, Peter had been trapped. Time didn't pass. Everything was now. An endless void. He couldn't think, he was without form. Without a brain to handle input, without senses to gather environment. He was still alive, in some way. A moment ago he was in outer space, watching everyone turn to dust in front of him.

That 80's space guy who liked Footloose, that bug lady with antennas, the shirtless blue dumb alien dude, and the strange sorcerer.

Then . . . his spidey-senses grew wild

He viewed in third-person as he began to crumple, begging the great Tony Stark for life.

He remembered that he was in a haze, panicking, his life flashing before his eyes. He wasn't in control of what he was saying. Calling Tony's name. Gripping onto him for dear life. But when his thoughts caught up to reality, one sentence echoed within him.

❝ And if you die, I feel like that's on me. ❞

Guilt washed over his trembling shape as he fell to the ground. He looked deep into the eyes of his mentor, uttering a few last words. He wanted to apologize. He didn't want his apparent death to weigh down on Tony.

"I'm sorry."

Tony carefully stroked his hair. "No, kid," he cried. "You're back. You're okay. I- I got you back." His regularly firm and secure voice broke as tears were streaming down his eyes. What he had been fighting for the last year had arrived.

Usually the universe took more than it gave, but not today.

Not today.

"M-Mr. S-Stark?" Peter stuttered, frantically looking around. His body had begun shaking wildly, too much for his control.

"Shh, kid," Tony whispered, placing a hand on the back of Peter's head. "I'm here."

✦✦✦

The new model Audi screeched to a halt on the sidewalk right outside Peter's apartment. It looked sort of. . . different. A year older, in a way. The same dirty old pickup truck that had been parked in the same spot for. . . forever, really, wasn't there anymore. Paint had begun peeling from the apartment building's walls. That window—where he snuck in and out of his room almost every night—it wasn't even painted red anymore.

"You ready, kiddo?" Tony asked, putting a firm hand on Peter's lap.

Peter turned back from the window to look at the man he now called his father. He nodded quickly, hiding the fact that he was utterly terrified.

May was the only family he had left. According to Tony, she survived Thanos' snap. She was great and all, and really deserved more props for having raised him. But . . . everything changed after his uncle Ben died.

May turned cold. She barely even talked to Peter during the first two months without him. The fact that Peter was transgender didn't help the scenario either. She had always been a bit homophobic—not completely accepting of who Peter really was. She wanted a little girl of her own, but those plans were thrown off when they took in little Penny Parker. It rattled even more when Penny changed to Peter. Ben was the one who kind of smoothed her down, but with him gone . . .

May kept her head low until Ben was gone. After that, it was just horrible. She didn't care for Peter in the least, calling him by Penny every chance she got.

Then, she found out about Spider-Man. She hated him for it. He was forced to absolutely promise May to never do it again. But that wasn't an option for him. Queens needed Spider-Man. This in turn caused May to start giving Peter beatings, or denying him food.
But he couldn't tell that to Tony. He needed to believe that everything was fine. He had already done more than enough for Peter.

"Peter, you there?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow and lightly nudging Peter in the forearm.

And now Peter was returning to his aunt after being resurrected along with every other snap victim. Readying himself for what was to come, he smiled innocently at Tony, nodded, and got out of the passenger seat, heading inside.

Peter knocked lightly on the door after half-jogging up the stairs, choosing not to take the old and wrangly elevator. He didn't know if he was just to barge in or not. What do you do after being away from 'home' for a year?
Being . . . dead?

The door was opened by a large man in his late forties. He was wearing a dirty, white tank top, tattoos covering his arms and neck. Peter could easily tell by the smell of him that he was drunk.

"Uh, sorry, erm—" Peter stammered, realizing he must've knocked on the wrong door.

His heart dropped when he noticed May approaching the man from behind, carrying a face of disappointment.