Peter Parker was sixteen years old when he took on a homicidal titan from space. He was sixteen when he felt his inside cramping, his body begin to crumble, his legs giving way as he fell into his mentor's arms and held onto him as if this man – this wonderful, snarky, genius – alone could save him. He was sixteen when he died and sixteen when he awoke just in time to watch Thanos tear the closest thing he had to a father into pieces.

Tony Stark had saved them. He'd gone home. He'd reconciled with Steve, with Clint, Nat, and banner, with anybody else who was willing to take down that purple motherfucker. From what Deadpool later told him it had been Steve who had gone first ('not even half an hour into the movie, Spidey, it sucked major cock-fucking ass!') and Falcon followed close behind. Hawkeye was next and then more and more until the ground was littered with the corpses of fallen heroes, and Thanos stood gleeful in the face of his genocide. The titan was victorious. The heroes had lost. It was over.

Until suddenly it wasn't.

They hadn't even needed the gauntlet; it was BARF that had saved the day. It turned out that a guilt-ridden Tony Stark would work surprisingly well with a vengeful queen of Wakanda. A flick of the switch and all that was ash was reborn into a world of fire. Iron man took to the skies, desperately seeking out the carnage and battle for the spider-kid who wasn't his kid but was in every way that mattered. Peter awoke. His body hurt and his head was spinning, spinning, spinning. He didn't know where he was. Where had he been? Surely not here. He wasn't alone. There had been someone with him, holding him ('I don't feel so good'). A flash of red and gold.

'M-Mr. Stark?'

Iron-man hesitated. A giant purple hand reached from below and Peter had watched on in horror as another father was slaughtered in front of him. Again and again and again. His life seemed to be a cycle of death and destruction and at the centre, himself. He remembered screaming. He remembered clawing at the ground as he launched himself towards the Titan. He remembered arms holding him back: flesh and metal and entirely their own. The rest of the battle had been a blur. It seemed to last for weeks but, in reality, was days at the most. Somewhere in that time Captain Marvel had arrived.

'I can kill him,' she claimed. 'But I need a clear shot.'

Peter would get her that shot even if it killed him. Thanos wouldn't just die for what he had done, he would be obliterated. He would understand the pain he had caused so, so many and he would know that this was his demise. Peter would make sure of it. So would Wanda. So would Quill and Bucky and Valkyrie. So would Shuri, who hadn't even talked to T'Challa before she lost him again.

The shot came in a fraction of a second. Thanos had been going for Wanda, and then he'd switched. Peter was a bug that needed crushing and he turned. In the chaos and carnage of the war, the spider's mask had been lost. A child stood on a battlefield, trembling with rage and hatred for this being in front of him. For a moment the Titan saw not the spider, but another in his place; a girl of war and bloodshed who had given him this same scathing glare. He hesitated.

Captain Marvel took her shot.

And Just like that, it was over.

But it didn't feel over, not even when the remaining guardians left Earth to bury the racoon and collect the body of a teammate Peter never got to meet. It didn't feel real when Captain Marvel dismantled the accords and, in their place, put a decree of protection for the world's supers. It didn't feel real when she left for Space, and Shuri for Wakanda, and Bruce and Valkyrie just left. There was a wizard who wasn't Strange and offered him sanctuary in New York if he needed it. Peter didn't even get his name before he left as well.

Only Wanda and Bucky stayed behind with him: the spider, the soldier, and the girl who had lost too much. The compound became a home if it wasn't already. For Wanda, it was the only home she had. She had survived but that was it. The powers which had once been a thing of beauty to her became twisted and disturbed. They had killed Pietro, and it was them that had killed Vision, and so they were no longer any willing part of her. Peter wanted to point out the flaw in her logic but he was too. Goddamn. Tired. So Wanda stayed but she wasn't Wanda. Instead a wandering ghost walked the halls of the compound trying to figure out why it had all gone so wrong. In the shadows, the soldier would sit and take it all in. He had been lost and broken long before Thanos. Just when he was put back together again a giant, purple alien flew in from outer-fucking-space and tore it all apart again. Part of Bucky was sure this was some strange dream or hallucination. He'd wake soon and be back when things were simpler and Steve was a twig again. Peter watched as the realisation creeped up on the soldier. This was real. This horror-story of a life was his, and he'd surpassed the end of the line so why was he still walking? Without Steve the world became unclear, but his friend had called this place home and so it would be.

For Peter it was a lot simpler. Mr Stark had built the compound. He had lived and breathed and existed in these walls. Peter was scared. He was guilty and sad and lonely. He was terrified. He went to bed to dreams of massacre and woke up crumbling to ashes once more. The soldier helped him with the nightmares – he had been there, he still was – and Wanda would ghost past the doorway and stare for a minute. Aunt May would stay as often as possible but she couldn't help because she didn't know. She hadn't seen. Peter had walked by her door to find her crying to Pepper that she'd failed him, just like she'd failed Ben. He made a resolve to try harder with her in future. She hadn't failed him. He was the failure. He hadn't been strong enough, fast enough, brave enough. He just hadn't been enough. He wanted to go home, but in the compound a father could still comfort him. There were tools that hadn't moved and robots that had and were wondering where their creator was. A half empty glass of scotch sat across from sketches of a new suit. He could talk to the lab and a phantom hand would brush his shoulder, call him kid, tell him everything was going to be alright because he wouldn't let anything happen to him ('if you die, I think that's on me.'). It didn't help much, but it was something.

Peter Parker was seventeen when he finally donned the spider-man suit once more. There was no crime fighting involved, but he slung himself to the top of the old Avengers tower and watched the city fix itself. Earlier in the day, he'd happened across the logs of the first Iron-man suit. Mr Stark had failed and crashed and been dosed by a fire-extinguisher, yet he had always bounced back up to finish what he started. Peter didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Instead he put on the suit and left. Crime had lulled after Infinity war, but it wouldn't stay that way forever. All the heroes were either dead or too damaged to continue. For the first time in his life, Peter didn't want to be spider-man. He just wanted to heal and finish school and figure out what it meant to be normal. Wasn't it ironic? After all those years of wanting to be an Avenger he finally was one, and he could think of nothing worse. He wanted to cry.

'Oh-em-gee! Is that really you, Spidey? I thought you were dead!'

Peter nearly fell off the tower.

Below him, a man in a red suit (suspiciously similar to his own) was perched carelessly on the wall of the tower as if it were the easiest thing in the universe. On his back were two bloodied katanas which appeared to be holding up a bag of steaming chimichangas. Was that hygienic? Peter decided not to ask.

'This,' the red man declared, pulling himself up beside Peter, 'is the best day of my life. I am a huge fan, and I know they say not to meet your heroes and all that but you don't seem like the type to rip a Pool in two, right? No? 'Cus oh baby have I got some stories to tell. It all started when—'

Peter was confused. Was this guy a copycat? He certainly seemed like a fan . . .

'I'm sorry,' he squeaked. 'Who are you?'

The red man gasped, lifting his hands to cover his mouth – mask? – in a flair of drama, white eyes widening theatrically.

'This is so embarrassing guys, I totally forgot to introduce myself.' He kicked himself over into a standing position and took a bow. 'I'm Pool, Dead. Popular on Netflix and sometimes known as that buck-naked dude you saw sneaking out mamma's room whilst daddy was on a "work trip".'

'My mum's dead.'

Pool-Dead gasped again, before reaching out to pinch Peter's masked cheek.

'So is mine!' He squealed, 'Can you hear that? That's the sound of the universe falling into alignment. It was written in the stars. We're two red condoms on a joint path to awesomeness. Spider-Man and Deadpool, Soul-men and Dead-mates. Wait, no. That sounds bad. Spider-mates and Soul-Pools? Admittedly not much better. Shut up yellow, I'm trying to create here. Of course his ass looks great, he's spider-man. What did you expect?'

Peter snorted in laughter.

Deadpool squealed and started raving about his laugh. Under the Spider's mask, a frown gave way for a smile. He hadn't laughed since before the war. Deadpool was clearly insane but he'd made Peter laugh. There were no eggshells around him and for the first time in months the weight on peters shoulders seemed to ease up a little. Around him the city fixed itself, and at it's heart so did the spider, one leg at a time.

A week later spider-man retook to the streets and a single thread of hope bloomed in the hearts of New York. It wasn't a simple task. There were always moments when a stitch became a cramp and he was falling apart on an alien planet, or the victim would cry out and suddenly he was back in the middle of a battlefield. There was the constant pool of anxiety in his stomach, the ache in his bones, and the overbearing fear that he would fail them once more. He wanted to stop, to throw down the suit and just be Peter, but Mr Stark had wanted him to be better and so he would.

So yeah, it wasn't all sunshine, rainbows, and simple bike thefts like it had once been. Peter was changed. Spider-man was seventeen yet could no longer be mistaken for a child. He was aged within his mortal bones. Yet for all the pain and suffering, Peter couldn't help but notice the good moments that were steadily breaking through the storm: Deadpool popping up with Chimichangas and a promise to not 'unalive' anyone that night; a small smile breaking over Wanda's face as she watched Aunt May scold Bucky; Pepper wordlessly passing him a cup of coffee the morning he was to return to Midtown; Ned's hugs and MJ calling him 'loser'; Shuri skyping from Wakanda, offering friendship and vines; a golden sunset from the top of a skyscraper as New York healed and so did he.

One morning, just after Peter's eighteenth birthday, Deadpool popped into the compound followed by Valkyrie and a very sheepish looking Banner. They didn't offer an explanation for where they had been and Peter didn't ask for one. He understood the need for space after what had gone down. Banner had headed to the lab. Peter had shouted when he moved Mr Stark's things from their place, then he had sobbed as the man held him and told him he was going to be okay. Upstairs, Deadpool had challenged Valkyrie to a drinking contest. He drank and she drank until he got alcohol poisoning and died for the night and she kept drinking. Banner took one look at Wade's body and decided he was going to bed. Peter asked Valkyrie for a sip and she gave him a bottle.

'Don't become me, kid.' She warned.

He snorted, 'I did think you drank too much.'

Something strange crossed her face. Was it warmth? The hint of something past, now lost to the halls of Valhalla? A king who didn't want to be king and a team made from scraps and broken bottles. ('I want to be on the team. Has it got a name?') Valkyrie was like Bucky, like Wanda. She had known loss before. It seemed to be all she ever knew. This wasn't her first rodeo but it hurt all the same. Before, she had been lost in a haze, drinking to forget until her team of reckless idiots came along. ('It's . . . yeah, it's called the Re-Revengers . . .') She had fled halfway across the universe to get away from Asgard and it's fucked-up priorities. ('The Revengers?') This time she had only run halfway across this planet, to a place called Tahiti where there were beaches and bars and much less tragedy. Then, she had discovered a place called Disappointment Island, and promptly dragged Bruce there with her. ('Because I'm getting revenge, you're getting revenge. You're…do you want revenge?') The team was gone now. It had been disbanded before but now it was truly gone. Two brothers lost, two princes, two friends. Eventually Bruce had dragged her back to the compound. It was his home before, it could be again and she was welcome to join. He was the only familiar left in this strange world of rules and judgement, and so she followed. ('I-I'm undecided.') This home came with more stragglers from teams that been torn up from their roots. They had all loved and lost, and most had known that same pain from before. But then there was this boy, this child. His illusion had been shattered. He'd known loss, for sure, but he'd convinced himself that it was over. Superheroes never lost. Now he was spider-man he would be safe, and so would his aunt and his friends and his father. The war had taken the child like a glass bottle and shattered him on the blood-stained earth. Valkyrie liked bottles, liked drinking, and she liked this spider-child who was picking himself up despite everything.

'Yeah,' she agreed. 'I do. Don't become me. Be better.'

Peter's head snapped up, brown puppy eyes widening in some silent plea.

'W-what?'

Valkyrie stood, taking a swig of her drink and patting him on the back.

'You're gonna be the best of us, kid.' She paused on her way out the room, glanced over her shoulder as if to say something, then thought better of it. Stumbling over Deadpool's corpse, Valkyrie left for some distant room or bar or way to forget. Peter was left alone, a bottle in his hand and a voice in his head ('I wanted you to be better'). He took a small sip then poured the entire thing down the drain.

The next day he and Banner cleared the whole lab until it was spotless.

Peter Parker was nineteen when he graduated from Midtown with Ned and MJ by his side and Aunt May cheering in the audience. The others had offered to come but he didn't want it to be a big deal. By now the world knew he was spider-man, even if he hadn't explicitly said so – his mask had fallen off enough in the war so he'd given up trying to hide. When he'd gone up to make the standard valedictory speech his hands shook and he almost forgot his lines. Peter smiled. For once he felt like a normal kid, trembling as he graduated from school. He finished his speech with a smile and a wave and no confidant declaration that he was spider-man ('I am Iron-man').

'Yeah! Go Spidey!' a voice called from the crowd. Peter facepalmed; of course Deadpool would turn up. He was waving erratically from near the front, carelessly whacking those who stood beside him. 'Will you sign my butt? I'm your biggest fan!'

Peter laughed and chucked his cap at him. To the side, Ned and Mj waved him over and hugged him tight, dragging in Aunt May when she'd finished snapping photos. Recovering from the hat-to-the-face, Deadpool bounded over and invited himself into the hug. Ned almost fainted and MJ complained. Peter and Aunt May shared a glance as Deadpool rambled over everything and nothing. For the first time in a long time, Peter felt safe. These people, this crazy bunch, were his family. Infinity war was an open would and the scar would always be there, but slowly it healed and he continued on. After summer break he would be heading off to college. MIT had offered him a full scholarship thanks to Mr Stark, who had put in a good word for him all those years ago. Even in death, his mentor was still looking out for him. May had sobbed when he got the letter, and Pepper had smiled, kissing the ring on her finger that she never took off. With the sunlight on his shoulders, Peter laughed once more and dragged his friends in close. Who cared if the photo of them made the news the next day? He was reaching for the stars and may he never fall again. When they returned to the compound later that night, Happy, Bruce, and Pepper alike demanded photos of the newly-graduated boy. The next morning, they were hung over the fireplace and he was home.

Peter Parker was twenty when he began to re-form the Avengers. He met Kamala during an attempted mugging on his walk home from MIT. The mugger had pulled him into an alley at gunpoint, not recognising his target from the news or the papers or even the goddamn internet – heh, the web. Peter followed, figuring it would be safer away from the public eye, but before he could web the villain up successfully, a giant fist sprung out of the alley and knocked the mugger to the ground. Peter gaped, shrugged, webbed him up, then turned to the girl who interrupted him.

'You're spider-man.' She stated.

'Yeah,' he nodded. 'Who are you?'

She was Kamala Kahn and he offered her a job. Kamala accepted and swiftly moved into the compound. She called herself Ms. Marvel in honour of the Captain who was her idol, and she teased and teased Peter about their meeting.

'I saved his life. He would've been toast without me.'

At this Peter would laugh and argue back. He claimed she was irritating, but really it was just nice to have someone near his age around. Wanda, who was just a few years older than Peter, seemed to agree and was opening up a bit more every day. Kamala got on great with MJ, which Peter wasn't certain was a good thing. The two were constantly scheming, that much he knew.

The introduction of Kamala spurred another super back into heroism. Johnny Storm showed up at the compound at 2am on a Wednesday morning, acting as if he owned the place and looking like he belonged.

'Hey man,' he greeted a sleep deprived Peter, who was writing up lectures and had come to the kitchen to take a break. 'Where'd you keep the coffee?'

Peter could've shoed him away. He could've screamed and called the others on this stranger who was scavenging through his fridge. Instead he gestured to the cupboard on the left and asked the stranger to make him a cup too. And so Peter met Johnny and they got on like a house on fire (unfortunately a little too literally sometimes). Peter had lost so much and Johnny had lost everyone: Sue and Reed and Ben ('Hey! You both lost a Ben! That's adorable.' – where the hell had Deadpool come from?). Peter asked if he wanted a new team. Johnny looked away, looked back a little lost, sniffed.

'You'd want me?'

'Of course.'

Peter retracted that statement when Johnny met Valkyrie and the Revengers reformed to blow stuff up with Deadpool and Hulk.

Peter Parker was twenty-one the next time Aliens tried to invade. He sent out a call for any available Avengers and they all responded. It was strange to think that five years ago there had been only three broken heroes left and none of them would've answered the call. Now, after all this time, the Avengers were truly back and strong and fighting harder than ever to win. Because they would always win now that they knew what it was to lose. Shuri sent in her tech from Wakanda, and Ned and Wanda (still unsure of her powers) stayed on comms. Peter was on the ground, but he wasn't alone. Bucky, Kamala, Hulk, and even Deadpool fought by his side, cutting down aliens one at a time. Johnny took the skies alone until Valkyrie flew in on a motherfucking Pegasus.

'Holy Shit!' screamed Deadpool. 'Where the flippity-flappity-flying-fuck did she get that? You know what? Never mind – I want on it.'

He tried to jump, missed the Pegasus, fell 200 meters to the ground, and promptly died.

Spider-man signed, 'Not again, Wade.'

To his left, Bucky crushed the skull of the alien he was fighting. 'That guy's an idiot.'

The fight went on, but not for long. After Infinity War, this invasion was a joke. They won with zero deaths and only scrapes and bruises (minus Deadpool who was constantly dying). The remaining Aliens began to flee back through their wormhole. Peter grabbed one and pulled its face so it was looking into the eyes of the mask.

'Tell your friends that Earth is protected.' He spat. 'The Avengers are Earth's sworn protectors and if you ever come here again, we'll rip you limb from limb until there's nothing left of you but blood and carnage and the knowledge that you can't win. We've only lost once, and when we didn't save the Earth you can be damn sure that we avenged it.'

He let the Alien go.

Deadpool preened, 'That was so hot, Spidey. Marry me?'

'No.' Bucky answered in his place.

A moment later Valkyrie landed on the ground.

'So,' she asked, jumping from atop the Pegasus. 'Drinks?'

Over the comms, Ned cheered.

Peter Parker was twenty-four when he graduated from MIT with a degree in Electrical engineering. There were more hugs, and more pictures over the fireplace, though now accompanied by the achievements of Kamala and Johnny too. Even a few pictures of Deadpool snuck in, though he had no idea who could've put them there . . .

Almost immediately after the ceremony, Pepper offered him a place in the R&D department of Stark Industries, and Peter accepted with tears and a smile. He had not forgotten his mentor, and by working in the labs of SI, he felt closer to him than ever before. That was, until Pepper announced that on top of R&D she would be training him as heir. Peter fainted. Ned also fainted. He was working as a computer technician for SI and Peter would become his boss. At this realisation Peter had cackled and MJ mumbled about abuses of power.

His days were now filled with work, and training, and patrolling in his free hours. It was what he wanted to do, but that didn't change the fact that it was exhausting. After a particularly gruelling day, spider-man stumbled from an alley straight into an impeachment protest for President Stomp. He was exhausted, disorientated, and a little pissed off, but hey, he also really hated this dude. So . . .

'Hey,' he nudged the girl in front of him. 'Can I borrow your sign?'

MJ smirked, 'Finally seeing straight, Parker? Here.'

And handed him her sign.

If the news became clogged with pictures of spider-man at the impeachment protest, it was hardly his concern. Nor was it when the president was forced to resign, a few days after said protest. No, Peter's new focus was on MJ, who had dragged him away after the protest and asked him on a date. Amazed and a little intimidated by this girl who had no powers but was a hero all the same, Peter agreed. One date turned to two turned to three, and Peter Parker was twenty-four when he fell in love. MJ was added to the wall above the fireplace. Pictures of Ned and Shuri were snuck in alongside. When Pepper saw them, she laughed.

'Tony always wanted kids,' she told Peter. 'How is it I'm the one who ended up with them?'

Happy grumbled about stupid teenagers and MJ took the chance to remind him of generation blame and that they were all mid-twenties. Happy was just old.

'Ooh Burn!' Yelled Kamala.

Johnny set the couch on fire.

Peter Parker was twenty-five when he got married. He wore red ('cus spider-man) and MJ wore red ('cus fuck that white-dress sexism and the racism behind colour standards). They honeymooned in Wakanda, which in hindsight wasn't a great idea because Shuri started playing pranks and MJ shortly joined in. Newly married and his wife was already betraying him. Peter tried to persuade General Okoye to help him prank them back. She gave him a look of death and promptly joined in with the girls. He then went to the mountain and attempted to ensnare M'Baku to his cause. The leader of the Jabari tribe called him an idiot and threatened to feed him to his children if he ever suggested something so stupid again. When he later told Shuri this, she had laughed so loud that her guards had to ask if there'd been a murder. M'baku's children were vegetarian. Peter was uploaded to 1st place on Shuri's wall of shame.

When they finally left Wakanda, the two newlyweds decided to buy a house just outside of the compound. That way they could still be a part of everything, but also have their own privacy and their own space. His days were spent at Stark Industries. His afternoons were spent patrolling. His evenings were spent laughing in the compound surrounded by his family. His nights were spent curled up by the fireplace, MJ in his arms. She'd tell him about her next fundraiser, or the most recent issue with society that she was going to fix. Peter would listen and ask if she needed any help.

'Nah, loser,' she'd smirk. 'I got this.'

And she did. She was a hero without the mask and Peter loved her even more for it. Still, it didn't stop him showing up to her protests to support her. He was twenty-five years old and he was happy. All those years and he had achieved the unachievable. This was where he was meant to be. This was home.

So naturally that's when everything had to change.

Peter Parker was twenty-six when his world flipped upside-down. A portal opened up in Central Park and the Avengers stepped out.

'Gee,' snarked Hawkeye, 'If I'd known it was this easy all along I would've got Strange to portal us away years ago. So, this is New York without the giant purple grape.'

Natasha smacked him, 'It's not that simple and you know it.'

The group paused, looking around. Central Park was empty. That was unheard of for New York. Something had to be going on. Where were all the people? If Strange was right, he'd teleported them to the winning universe, the one where half the population hadn't become dust and the planet hadn't been enslaved by a titan overlord. They were going to help out if it wasn't already won. So where were all the people?

'Something isn't right,' frowned Steve.

'Yeah, no shit.'

And they were surrounded.

Peter was furious. Hadn't it been enough to lay down their lives? Now there were copycats parading around in the identities of the heroes who had been slaughtered in front of them. It had been ten years and their deaths still weighed on him. It had been ten years and their lives shouldn't have been reduced to a fancy dress. He spotted a Thor doppelgänger, a Hawkeye and a Widow. At the front stood a man dressed as Steve, and—

'Who the fuck do you think you are?' He spat, swinging out of the shadows to stand in front of the fakes.

Fake-Steve stepped forwards. Johnny smouldered threateningly behind Peter.

'Kid, it's okay.' The fake reassured, 'We're the Avengers. We've come to help.'

'Bullshit!' cried Kamala, 'We're the Avengers.'

'And I'm not a kid.' Peter snarled. 'There are no problems here apart from a very obvious identity theft – which is fucking disrespectful, by the way. So, skedaddle.' He waved them off. 'You don't even know the meaning of war.'

'Not a kid, my ass!' Snapped Hawkeye, 'You're what, twelve?'

'Sixteen.' A voice that Peter was trying very hard to ignore spoke up.

'Twenty-six,' he corrected. 'Not that it's your business.'

Steve sighed, 'It doesn't matter. Kid or not, we're here to help with Thanos.'

Silence.

'I'm sorry,' Peter choked. 'What?'

Behind him, Johnny started cackling.

Fake-Thor nodded, remorseful in his grief, 'It is not a jest. The mad titan has succeeded in his collection of the infinity stones has it set out for Earth.' He paused, glancing at his team. 'He is not an idle threat. He murdered my brother and slaughtered half my people.'

'All your people.' The voice came from above, and not a moment later Valkyrie descended from the sky, her Pegasus glowing in the light of the sun. In one hand she clasped the famed dragonfang sword of the Valkyries, in the other she held a bottle of whiskey. Taking swig (and draining half the bottle) she slid of the horse and sauntered towards the doppelgängers. 'You know, your majesty, it's a hard part to play. You could at least read up on your lines before you try.'

Another swig. She dropped the empty bottle ('Dude, littering . . .' Ned called through the comms) and in a moment had her sword to Thor's throat.

'Impersonating royalty, your majesty.' She snarled, 'That's treason. And impersonating my friend? That's a death wish.'

Despite the sword at his throat, Thor looked on in wonder.

'Valkyrie . . .' he whispered, breath catching in his throat.

'Valkyrie,' Peter commanded. 'Stand down.'

'Pete . . .'

Peter ignored the voice. It wasn't him. He was dead. In front of him, Steve had begun edging forward once more.

'Hey, calm down. Okay? There's no need for violence.'

'Oh, I don't know.' Bucky called from the shadows, 'I think there fucking is.'

Steve jolted, 'B-Bucky?'

'Oh hey! I didn't know we were doing parallel universes in this fic? That's fucking awesome!'

Peter groaned. He liked Deadpool, he really did, but this was not the time. It didn't matter. Nobody could control the merc-with-a-mouth, certainly not Peter. He landed with a splat next to Peter, groaning some nonsense about superhero-landings and broken legs not being very cinematic.

'Pool,' Peter pleaded, 'I am literally begging you, not now.'

'Actually,' Shuri sounded out over the comms. 'For once, he might have a point.'

'What?' Both spider-man and Deadpool spluttered.

The comms crackled in their ears.

There was a moment of silence.

Then—

'Bring them back to the compound. We might have a slight situation . . .'

Peter Parker was sixteen when he lost Tony Stark. He was twenty-six when he got him back.

They had been surprisingly easy to get to the compound. They lounged around like it was their home and they were residents, not . . . guests? Prisoners?

'We're out of orange juice.' Hawkeye called from the fridge.

'No, we're not.' Widow smirked, drinking the juice from the carton.

Across the room, the fake iron-man was staring at Peter, whose mask was staying securely on. His spidey sense was tingling at the eyes on his back. He ignored it but didn't loosen up (just in case). A quick text was sent to MJ warning her not to come to the compound. She replied calling him a loser. Despite everything, Peter couldn't help but smile under the mask.

'Peter,' Karen called through the compound. 'You are currently receiving a video call from Wakandan-Meme-Queen. Would you like me to accept?'

('Who's Wakandan-Meme-Queen?'

'Who'd you think?'

'Then who're you?'

'Queens-Meme-Queen, obviously.')

'Karen!' Peter hissed, 'Secret identities.'

The AI paused, 'Sorry, Mr. Parker. Should I accept the call?'

Kamala snorted and Peter flopped his face into his arms and accepted the call.

'Wassup, nerd?' Called the very gracious queen of Wakanda. Shuri's hologram began walking around the compound as if she were really there. 'Jokes, I know what's up. I'm a genius. So, who've we got?'

She began walking towards the new group, counting off faces as if searching.

'Shuri . . .' Peter's voice was broken glass and he shook his head.

'Oh,' She stopped searching, took a breath, collected herself. 'Okay, well . . . Just the originals, I guess. Minus Bruce.'

'Dr. Banner is currently in the labs.' Karen offered.

Fake iron-man perked up. Peter desperately tried to ignore him.

'So,' he cleared his throat. 'What the hell is going on?'

Shuri explained. The portal they came through was a gateway, and it had belonged to the late Stephen Strange. At least, the energy signatures were almost identical to the ones they'd collected from him. Which was impossible. Stephen Strange had been dead for a decade.

'Parallel Universe, Spidey,' Wade whispered. 'So cool.'

And he wasn't wrong. These Avengers weren't their avengers but they were the Avengers. Peter's head hurt. They had come from a place where the snap was permanent. They had come from a place where they had lost. And they had decided Fuck this, we're leaving.

Oh, plus the fact that they seemed to think Thanos was still a threat here.

'Pete, please,' Mr Stark was begging him to reconsider letting them fight the titan. 'We've fought him before. You can't win by yourself. I watched you die . . .'

'And I watched you die!' He yelled, hands shaking as he tore the mask from his face so that he could just. Fucking. Breathe. 'We know Thanos was a threat, but we won here. You won. And he's dead now, but I watched you get torn to literal pieces by him. So don't you dare try and use that on me.'

Mr Stark was trembling.

'Pete,' he croaked. 'What year is it?'

Peter blanked, 'What?'

To everyone's surprise, it was Wanda who answered.

'Twenty-eight,' she stated as if reading words from a dictionary. 'It's twenty-twenty-eight. And March, if you were wondering.

Hawkeye dropped his bow, 'Well, shit.'

Peter Parker was twenty-seven when he allowed Mr Stark back into his life. The team had been disoriented at the world they found themselves in. Technically, the dead remained dead, but this seemed like a second chance. Tony needed Peter, and eventually Peter allowed himself to admit that it was nice having a Tony.

There were lab-days and coffee-days and I-can't-believe-you're-alive-so-excuse-me-if-I-cry-days. There was the day that Tony was reintroduced to Pepper.

'Honey, you haven't aged a day.' He swooned.

She slapped him, kissed him, married him.

There was the day that Clint left to go home. They got a very happy phone call so that one was a win. There was the day that Steve and Bucky had been found in a compromising position and the day that they admitted there was something more. There were days for training, days for mourning, and days for avoiding everyone if you didn't want to get pranked.

And eventually there was the day.

'Mr Stark?' Peter whispered, his voice quiet and unsure. 'You know you're, like, my dad, right?'

Tony dropped his screwdriver, 'What?'

'Well, Pepper is like a mom, aunt may too, obviously. We even have a photo wall, but you were always my dad.'

For a moment, Tony paused, staring at his hands and the scars and anywhere but Peter. Then he shrugged, a smile appearing on his face.

'Okay, good.'

'Good?' Peter bit his lip.

'Yes, Underoos.' Tony smirked, 'good.'

Peter let out a breath. This was almost perfect. Almost. There was only one thing missing.

'Hey, dad?' he smirked. 'There's someone I'd like you to meet.'

And that's how MJ came to be sitting in the compound, eating chimichangas (courtesy of Deadpool) and reading a humungous book on poisonous flowers used in the middle ages, whilst the old Avengers stared at her in confusion. Peter stood to the side, hiding a smile and wondering how this was going to play out. Knowing MJ, it was going to be spectacular.

'So, loser,' she paused, looked him directly in the eye with that look that made him want to run or, well . . . anyway, 'Finally decided you can trust them?'

'Yeah,' Peter smiled when he looked at her. He couldn't help it, he always did. 'I think it's about time.'

Tony looked between the pair.

'This your girlfriend, Pete?' he asked, downing his coffee and eagerly leaning forward. 'Can I give her the dad talk? Please?'

Peter snorted, 'No, and no.'

Tony slumped in disappointment.

'Bit late anyway,' mumbled MJ under her breath.

Natasha was looking between the two with a calculating glance. A smirk rose slowly to her face as she figured it out and sat back in her chair, propping her feet over Tony. Beside her, Steve looked confused and Bucky was rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

'No,' declared Clint, loudly. 'I know love and I know relationships. She's your girlfriend, Parker, you can't hide it. I'm like Cupid, Greek god of knowing when there's a fucking relationship.'

'Cupid was Roman.' Bruce stated, flicking through his journal.

MJ snorted, 'Idiot.'

Clint frowned, 'If she's not your girlfriend, which she is, can I shoot her?'

A second later he was hit in the chest with MJ's book. It made a spectacular thump as Clint swore in pain.

'I like her,' Tony preached, eyes glistening. 'Can we keep her?'

A laugh bubbled up in Peter's throat and he made no effort to subdue it.

'I would hope so, dad,' he admitted, directing his gaze straight to Tony. 'I did marry her, after all.'

Tony choked.

A second later Peter yelped as the flying book which had been thrown at Clint was chucked his way.

'Not a possession, loser!'

'I'm sorry! Have mercy!'

Peter Parker was sixteen when he took on a titan from outer space and lost and lost and lost. He was seventeen when he started fixing himself. At nineteen he discovered that happiness was a possibility and at twenty he started remembering why he did what he was doing. At twenty-one he became a leader and at twenty-four he fell in love. At twenty-five he reached true happiness, all on his own, surrounded by a family that would never leave him. All the pain and all the loss and he had pulled himself together stronger than before and for it he was rewarded. At twenty-six the universe gave back what it had taken, albeit not the same, but back it was. At twenty-seven Peter Parker gained a father once lost. His family had grown from three and up. At twenty-seven Peter Parker pulled his wife into his arms as she read, and he sat back among friends and wondered how such a tragedy could have a happy ending.

'Stop thinking, Nerd.' MJ scolded, looking up from her book. 'It's obviously a beginning.'

A/N:

Well, I guess that's that! Not gonna lie, this wasn't really the way the story was meant to go but I'm kinda happy with the result. I wrote it for the the end but it kinda wrote itself and pulled me along with it lol. It's published on my Ao3 account too, which is under the same name, and be sure to favourite, comment, and follow! Thanks :)