I don't own Marvel or its characters. This is a work of fiction and I make no monetary gains. Ok, well hello! This is my first ever Marvel fanfic! I have recently become utterly obsessed with a few ships and I decided to write my own. Take heed of the warnings and tags. Go easy on me. I don't claim to be any kind of all knowing person when it comes to following canon. I've watched the Marvel movies a lot. I haven't read the comics much...but I was previously married to a comic book nerd for 7 years so I picked up some things along the way. So just bear in mind this is FANFICTION before you rake me across the coals. Thanks, and enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Sir, you appear to have a visitor."

Tony's legs that were more blackened with oil stains than the actual color of the denim fabric of his work jeans were all that were visible from under the Audi R8 Spyder. He'd purchased himself a new one after its predecessor had been blown to bits and buried at sea in Malibu. Tony was meticulous about regular maintenance on his babies, and thus was beneath the sleek car changing the oil.

"Whoever it is, tell them to go away," Tony said absently to his AI, focused on replacing the oil filter until the voice of his supposed visitor spoke, the tone scraping along Tony's nerves and fueling a light wave of panic that bloomed in his chest. Nobody should be able to get into the garage or the lab when he was in lockdown mode. He knew FRIDAY wouldn't permit anyone to enter that didn't have an override.

"Not necessary, FRIDAY," Stephen Strange said in a bored voice, and with the minute flick of a finger, yanked Tony out from beneath his car by manipulating his creeper, the wheels gliding effortlessly across the polished concrete floor of the garage. Tony sat up incredulously. He hated magic, he really did.

"To what do I owe the honor of your presence, Cloak-n-boots?"

Strange folded his arms across his chest and regarded Tony coolly.

"I'm Dr. Stephen Strange."

"Can't say I'm pleased to make your acquaintance," Tony snarked, eyeing the amulet suspiciously that hung from the man's neck. His fingers twitched, knowing with the push of a button on his watch the suit would automatically wrap around his body for protection. He knew his baby girl was running the man's name now and would compile the information for him to look through after this, well, Strange encounter.

He and Tony hadn't met before, but like anyone else, even before becoming Sorcerer Supreme, Strange knew of Stark. From what he'd seen of Tony from media in the past, he could see the toll the Accords and the Civil War between the Avengers had taken on the man. Tony would always look good, he was too blessed genetically, but the man had lost a good ten pounds. He had more wrinkles in his face and around his eyes than he had two months ago. Not having left his lab in weeks, more gray had streaked through his hair than he probably would've normally allowed and his usually sharply groomed facial hair was getting out of control.

"I am going to make this short, as we are both men for which time is invaluable. Something wicked this way comes. We have, at best, 22 months to prepare for what is moving across the universe toward us. The state that the Avengers is in, and you, personally, Anthony, are not going to place humanity as we know it on the winning side."

Tony stood, hitching his stained jeans up over slightly protruding hip bones, eyeing the Sorcerer suspiciously. He was going to ignore the blow to his looks. For now.

"You going to enlighten me on what you know and how you know it?" Tony finally asked.

Stephen simply twisted his fingers into what looked like a weird mudra to Tony and suddenly an image appeared before him. It was like a holographic that FRIDAY could produce but not brought about by scientific means. Again, Tony was reminded of how he wasn't fond of magic and subtly flinched back.

Tony looked at the image and fought down a wave of violent déjà vu with deep breaths. The Sorcerer showed him what looked like a giant purple alien, wearing gold colored armor, cackling while the world burned. In each hand he held the limp bodies of Tony's friends- in his right hand was the large green body of the Hulk, whose face was smashed in beyond recognition. His left held Peter's broken form by the back of his war tattered suit, his head hanging from an unnatural angle.

Steve lay dead at the monster's feet, his shield shattered, the blue of his eyes muted in death but boring straight into Tony's just as they had in Wanda's vison. Something churned in Tony's gut and he tore his eyes away from Steve's; looking beyond the fallen Captain, he saw the War Machine armor was a mostly a mass of twisted and dented metal as if it were nothing more than crumpled up aluminum foil. Rhodey was dead and broken within. Bodies of deceased heroes littered the scene.

Brown eyes forced themselves away from the gruesome illusion.

"What is this?" Tony demanded, much like he had with Zemo only two months ago when his life fell apart. Except unlike that time, when his voice was strong with anger, Tony's question came out as a haunted whisper. His heart twisted in his chest and he dug his nails harshly into his palms, trying to stave off the anxiety attack swirling around his lungs, threatening to cut off his air supply.

"This is what will come to pass if I do not intervene. Normally, this would not be my first choice of method, but seeing as how time is valuable to us and cannot be wasted, I'm going to tell you how this vision comes to be. You, my friend, suffer osteomyelitis within your newly repaired sternum."

Tony's hand involuntarily clutched his chest, right where the arc reactor used to be, in the exact spot Steve had smashed his shield into the Iron Man armor so hard he cracked Tony's already fragile sternum that previously had to be reconstructed after the removal of the arc reactor. He was six weeks recovered from the surgery to repair it, adding yet another snarled scar to chest. He was finally cleared to lift objects under 30 pounds, but he did seem to remember the doctor saying something about being susceptible to infection now the subject arose.

"FRIDAY, scan my sternum for possible signs of osteomyelitis," Tony asked, arching a brow smugly at the Sorcerer, who simply arched one back.

"Osteomyelitis detected within 40% of the repaired bone structure, sir," FRIDAY reported out clinically. "I advise contacting the surgeon's office, would you like me to do so, sir?"

"Not at the moment, thank you FRIDAY," Tony replied. He felt scandalized that some complete stranger had strolled his way into his garage by some sort of fairy dust method and thought he fucking knew everything about him.

"It's too late anyhow," Strange continued, albeit in a softer, more gentle tone. Tony's eyes snapped to his and saw sympathy shining there.

"Antibiotics won't treat it. Your body has been under too much duress to handle the strong regimen of medicine they'd need to use to combat the infection and it would make you susceptible to another slew of infections. They decide on surgery to remove the infection, although it's a fairly risky procedure."

"I don't make it," Tony deadpans, understanding dawning in his mind.

"Sadly, no. You suffer a widow maker while they have you open on the table. Your heart has been through too much; resuscitation isn't successful."

Tony begins to pace, his mind racing through possibilities and not liking the answers he was coming up with. He was just as unlikely to survive a heart transplant as he was the surgery to remove infection.

"So, what do we do about it?" he finally asks Strange, afraid of the answer because he knew magic would be involved. Nothing good ever became of magic being used around Tony Stark. But he couldn't let this reality come to pass. This time, the vision was real. This time, the whole entire world would be destroyed if he couldn't it get right. He massaged his temples. He was getting too old for all the universe's problems to keep falling on his doorstep.

Strange smiled, and Tony was struck by how much the action simultaneously illuminated the man's face and made him look lethal.

"How did you like being 21?" Strange queried, and Tony's eyebrows shot up.

"That was the year I became CEO of Stark Industries. It was a good a year…I think. There were a lot of parties. I was often…moderately functional. Lots of women…yeah, it was a good year."

Strange smirked.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"Well, that was a lifetime ago, and I don't see what 21-year-old me has anything to do with our present situation," Tony sniped, growing bored with the game Strange was playing.

"Ah, but it has everything to do with our present situation," the Sorcerer replied cryptically, "for it was before you sank into lasting habits that would lead us here to your current health situation."

"So, what, you are here to use your magic to help me build a time machine to restore me to my former glory?" Tony scoffed haughtily.

"Something like that," Strange answered, sweeping his cloak back as his gaze narrowed in on Tony.

"But, before we get started, I want to tell you something that you are not to forget, under no circumstances."

"Alright, lay it on me, elder Chris Angel."

Tony was used to people looking like they wanted to carve his eyes out with a plastic spork, so Strange's look of murder at his comment bounced off him as if he was wearing the Iron Man suit.

"Do not disregard the boy. What you are told by society; disregard it. He's the web that will weave you all together."

"What? You mean Underoos?"

"Parker," correct Strange, "he's the web that will weave you all together. Repeat it," demanded Strange, looking so deadly serious Tony didn't dare defy the order for fear the Sorcerer might really lose control and give him the head of a chicken or something.

"Peter is the web that weaves us together," Tony repeated, still not understanding what the hell Strange meant by that. What did any of this have to do with the kid?

"Good boy," praised Strange.

"Oh, fuck you," Tony bit out.

"No thank you, you are not my type," Strange taunted.

Tony was about to make a comment about magical blow up dolls but Strange interrupted him and stole his thunder.

"You are going to want to drink a lot of water after this," he advised, doing that weird thing he did with his hands.

"After what, exactly?" Tony inquired, taking a large step back from the Sorcerer.

Said Sorcerer's hands were bathed in a purple light that had swirling circles of what looked like ancient runes. Tony made for the button on his watch but Strange beat him by miles, aiming both hands at Tony and encasing him in the purple light. Tony's eyes went wide with shock- he could feel the magic coursing through his body, twisting in his veins, curling around his bones, tingling up his nerves. It didn't hurt; it was a warm feeling, and almost pleasurable the way a lover's caress is across the back of your hand.

However, whatever Strange was doing was rapidly draining his energy and Tony could feel his eyes growing heavy. It was almost like he'd been injected with a heavy sedative. He fought it although he knew he'd never win. Just before he drifted into unconsciousness he heard Strange's voice echo through his mind.

"Peter is the web that weaves you all together."

Tony stirred groggily on the floor. Somewhere in the distance he thought he could hear FRIDAY, but it was far away and his head HURT. He felt like he'd been smashed into the side of a building by the Hulk without his armor on and somehow lived to tell the tale. Maybe that is what happened. Maybe Bruce had finally come back, gotten pissed at the state of abuse Tony had put his recovering body through, and Hulked out on him. God, he missed his science bro.

"Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark, can you hear me?"

Someone was jostling him. The movement made him nauseous. Why was his voice so fucking loud? Fingers found his pulse point on his neck. Tony didn't know how steady the pulse was, but he knew he was alive, although he didn't really want to be if it meant dealing with this pain. He pushed into the cool fingers, they felt remarkable on his feverish skin.

"FRIDAY, what's his condition? Vitals report," demanded a female voice.

Pepper? Oh, thank Thor! She'd help him feel better…oh fuck. Nope, nope if he was hung over, if he fucked up his sobriety, especially after having surgery, he was dead. She was probably about to put the heel of her Prada stiletto right through his jugular and end his suffering. He tried to think if he had all his documents in order in the event of his death. They probably were. Pepper took care of that sort of thing. She was so efficient; how did he deserve to be graced with an angel like her anyway?

"Pulse 88, temperature 100.5. He seems to be suffering from a great deal of dehydration, Miss Potts," informed his AI. Ah, his baby girl. She was a beautiful work of artful engineering.

"Is it okay if I turn him over? I won't hurt him, will I?"

"Pete?" Tony groaned out, finally recognizing the other presence in the room.

"Scans show he is perfectly intact, Mr. Parker, he is just delirious from dehydration."

"Tony, I swear if you got drunk and this is another famous Stark hangover, I'm officially quitting. If you cannot take your health seriously and want to kill yourself, I can't stand by and watch you do it," Pepper threatened, although she couldn't quite keep the shakiness out that Tony knew all too well was her holding back tears of anger.

Peter's uncannily strong grip was on him, flipping him over with great care and Tony kept his eyes closed tight, the world spinning inside his head. When he opened his eyes and they finally focused, his vision was filled with Peter. His brown eyes were wide and filled with concern and he still cradled Tony's head carefully in his hands.

"Hey kid," Tony croaked out, bringing an arm up to rest on Peter's shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. It had been Peter who recovered him from his crash landing on the helipad after Siberia. The kid had helped pry him from the damaged armor and rushed him to medical, and was an ever-present appearance at his bedside as much as Pepper and Rhodey would allow before Tony was lucid enough to decide what he wanted Peter around to see. He hated that Peter had seen any of it, honestly. Tony wasn't sure he wanted Peter seeing whatever this was, either.

"Woah, Mr. Stark, you…"

Peter trailed off, not knowing what to say or if he should say anything at all, his eyes tracing over Tony's face in shock and a bit of awe. A thin finger traced over Tony's cheek before the kid caught himself and gently set Tony's head on the floor, shrugging out of his hooded jacket he always wore and balled it up, tucking it beneath Tony's head as a cushion.

Once Peter was no longer crouched over him, Pepper was next to appear, and her audible gasp of surprise before she clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide, scared Tony. Pepper had seen a lot of things; if she was shocked, it probably wasn't good.

"That Harry Potter knock off gave me a chicken head, didn't he," Tony muttered, vowing to figure out how to build a suit impervious to magic and punch Stephen Strange right in his perfectly groomed face.

Pepper was kneeling gracefully next to him, stroking his face, the corners of his eyes, and pushing back his hair that had fallen across his forehead.

"Tony, what did you do? You are…young again," Pepper breathed.

Suddenly, Tony remembered Strange asking how he liked being 21. His eyes widened.

"Get me to a mirror. Now."

"Tony, I don't think sudden movements are-"

"Kid, mirror," Tony snapped, and Peter was hauling up him with inhuman strength, shouldering Tony's weight as he half dragged his boss to the car he was lying a few feet from. He helped Tony sit in the driver's seat and Tony snapped down the visor, sucking in a harsh breath at his reflection.

"Holy shit!"

"Tony!" Pepper admonished, looking pointedly at Peter.

"Aw, he's heard way worse, Pep," Tony soothed, his voice gritty from thrist, still looking at his reflection in the mirror.

"That is not something a responsible mentor should be proud of," Pepper snapped back. She felt a headache coming on.

"How did this happen, Mr. Stark? How old are you now? You look so different without facial hair."

"I'm 21, still older than you and still your boss Parker, so if you make any baby face jokes, you're fired."

"Shutting up now," Peter said with a smirk.

"FRIDAY, light of my life, play back footage of Strange's transformation."

Peter and Tony both turned and Pepper came to stand with them as FRIDAY projected back her recording of the events from last night on a large holographic screen.

They all watched with wide eyes as Strange levitated Tony's body, his entire form encapsulated in purple light. Large circles of runes and geometric shapes began to circle, crisscross and entwine around his form while Strange chanted some sort of incantation under his breath. The circles spun faster and faster until everything was just a blur of brilliant light. Abruptly, everything stopped, and Tony was lowered to the ground. As soon as he was safely on the floor, Strange was gone, sidestepping quickly through an arching portal of flames.

"Bastard couldn't even have the decency to put me somewhere comfortable," grumbled Tony, feeling the kinks in his back ache from lying on a hard surface all night.

"Tony, do you even know that man?" Pepper asked worriedly.

"Nope," Tony answered, popping the p and caught Peter's eye.

"Come on, Spidey," Tony croaked, making grabby hands at Peter. "Get me to the lab. We've got work to do."

"Tony, no. Now really isn't the time, you should be resting!" Pepper cried, shooting Peter a look as he moved to help Stark up. The boy froze, clearly torn between who he was supposed to obey. Tony gave him a look and Peter sighed, offering Tony a hand to help pull him up from the car. He could feel Pepper's eyes burning a hole in the back of his skull. He hoped he didn't get trapped in the elevator with her any time soon. Pepper was scary.

"FRIDAY, have like 3 cases of water delivered to the lab. I feel like I swallowed the desert. Unfortunately, I do have experience with that, ah, watch the goods, kid!" Tony groaned when Peter shifted him a little too roughly.

"S-sorry Mr. Stark!" Peter stammered, loosening his hold slightly around Tony's waist and guided him forward as carefully as he could.

"Will do, boss," FRIDAY complied, readying the elevator to receive the three of them.

"Sometimes Tony, I really hate you," Pepper said fondly, watching him lean heavily on Peter.

"Why? I'm absolutely lovely. Don't say things like that Pep, you'll give Petey-pie the wrong impression of me," Tony whined.

Pepper let an unlady like sound.

"Absolutely lovely? More like an absolute nightmare. I can't wait to hear your ideas on how to explain this to the SI board."

End Chapter. Well, what do you think? Is it a passable start to a story? Comments and reviews are always appreciated!