Embracing Possibility

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"C'mon, man, you gotta bank or you'll get stuck in the sand. What don't you get about that?"

Peter frowned in frustration, not taking his eyes off of the tv screen, even though Colonel Rhodes' – Rhodey's, Peter reminded himself. He had been insistent that Peter call him that – words became increasingly grating against his nerves. On screen, Toad's red and white mushroom head bobbled along, and the wheels of his kart spun uselessly through the grainy, pixelated, sand beach.

"It's not me, the joystick keeps getting stuck!" Peter argued. His thumb pressed the stick hard to the left, but time and usage had made it incredibly loose in its socket and it lagged horribly in its response time.

"Don't blame the controller for your sucking. This is all you."

Jeez. This was embarrassing. Peter liked to consider himself a fairly well-versed gamer and he was getting his ass beat by a total novice. Disgraceful. Ned would've been absolutely ashamed of him. In his defense, Peter had never actually played on a Nintendo 64 and the controls were all new to him. Not that that excuse flew in the face of Rhodey's old school Mario Kart prowess.

'First and only gaming console I ever bought,' Rhodey had told him while wiping an inch of dust off of the bulky system. 'Got it back in '96 so my niece and nephew would have something fun to do when I babysat them. I bet it'd still get the job done.'

Peter had tried not to scowl at the teasing look that had been sent his way. This wasn't babysitting, Mr. Stark had been clear about that. It was just… companionship for a weekend while he and Ms. Potts were on their honeymoon.

Totally different from babysitting.

Mr. Stark's first choice had been to bring Peter along with them to his vacation house in Hawaii. But Peter, not wanting to impose himself in every aspect of their lives, had refused point blank.

'You'll love it, kid. We'll get you situated on the beach and get some sun on your pasty self.'

'There's sun here too, Mr. Stark.'

'No, it just gets hot here. It's not sunny, like the truly relaxing, melt away all your problems with sun beams while you sip on a mocktail, kind of sunny.'

'You drink mocktails?'

'I do when I'm on vacation with my pregnant wife and kid.'

'Forget it, I'm not tagging along on your honeymoon. That's weird.'

'We don't have to call it that. It could just be a vacation that we're coincidentally leaving on after Pep and I get hitched.'

'That's literally the definition of 'honeymoon'.'

God, that argument had gone on way longer than it should've. For whatever reason, it had taken a lot to convince Mr. Stark to leave him behind. Privately, Peter had thought that Ms. Potts looked relieved to hear him say 'no'. Ms. Potts liked him, he was sure of it, but there was a line, and Peter was certain that him crashing their honeymoon was crossing it. Even though it would be a brief trip, and Peter knew that neither Mr. Stark or Ms. Potts were in much of a celebratory mood, he felt that such mile stones and events were no less important now than they were before the snap. Recognizing and participating in them, in spite of everything that had happened just felt right, and Peter would be damned if he was going to mess that up.

Plus, sooner rather than later, Morgan would be here. Peter was no baby expert, but he did know that they were kind of demanding and took up a lot of time. It would be a shame to ruin Mr. Stark's and Ms. Potts' last bit of time alone together.

Upon seeing that his mind was made up, Mr. Stark had changed tactics and insisted that Peter stay with Rhodey for the weekend. He'd agreed immediately much to Mr. Stark's obvious surprise, and Peter supposed that it was unlike him to go along with something like that so easily. It hadn't even crossed his mind to refuse or complain that he would be seventeen soon and didn't need a sitter. Not when the alternative was to be left on his own, completely alone with no one to talk to, for an entire weekend. The idea was… chilling.

So, he'd packed a bag, brought it with him to city hall and put it in Colonel Rhodes' car when he'd met him there. The wedding had been very brief and with only Peter, Dr. Banner, and Colonel Rhodes in attendance. Peter had been surprised to see so few people there. He'd thought that someone in Ms. Potts' family would've come. He tried very hard not to wonder whether the small guest list was a result of too many burnt bridges or vanished ones. It was likely both, but it did no good to dwell on the morbid thought for too long. Afterward he had said his goodbyes to the couple and he had left with Rhodey.

In the hours between then and now, Peter had received no less than three checking-in texts from Mr. Stark. It was mildly irritating to still be present in their moment despite his best efforts not to be, but still he couldn't help the small measure of exasperated fondness that he felt upon seeing each text.

"Ah, there we go, y'did it!"

The whistle sounded as Peter's kart finally crossed the finish line, and the avatars of the characters were ranked from first to last place. Rhodey came in first. Peter came in eighth, which was pretty sad when the game only allowed eight racers. He dropped the controller on the couch cushion next to him and let his head fall against the back of the couch. A dismal sigh escaped him which made Rhodey laugh.

"Don't beat yourself up. I got twenty-two years of experience under my belt." Peter crinkled his nose at Rhodey's somewhat patronizing tone and glanced over to see him fully relaxed into the couch. His tie was loose around his neck (Peter had taken his off the second that they'd left city hall) and his top collar button was open. "When my niece and nephew would visit, they only wanted this and Super Smash Bros all day err day."

"The GameCube was my first console," Peter admitted and he remembered with some fondness how May and Ben had saved up enough money to give to him one for his first birthday with them. "How come you never upgraded? They make Mario Kart and Smash for less archaic consoles, y'know."

"Never saw the point." Rhodey shrugged. "I work all the time, so I don't have much time for it. But as 'fun Uncle James' I couldn't just not have an N64 for my sister's kids to duke it out on." His eyes unfocused as they gazed at the tv, and Peter recognized the contradictory combination of joy and sorrow that came with looking back on an era long since passed. Peter hadn't been there for whatever Rhodey was remembering, but his throat tightened all the same. "Those two were super competitive."

Were.

Peter's stomach dropped. It was possible that he meant were to refer to the kids that they used to be, rather than the adults that they must be by now. Or they might've vanished, his traitorous mind hissed at him. He bit his lip to stop himself from asking which it was. Before, he'd had an insatiable desire to know exactly who was alive and who wasn't. He'd scoured the register of the vanished, searching for names of everyone and anyone that he knew. But now… it was too draining. It might've been selfish for him to admit, but he just couldn't do it anymore. Maybe Rhodey's niece and nephew were alive, maybe they weren't. Peter preferred to think of them as alive, so he did.

Ignoring his tight throat and twisting stomach, Peter leaned forward to grab another slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table. There was already a red spot on his crisp, white sleeve from the sauce. A moment of panic had seized him when it had happened. The suit was brand new and probably insanely expensive since everything that Mr. Stark bought was always the absolute best that money could buy. Peter hadn't even realized that he'd had one made and tailored for him until that morning when he'd laid it out. But then Rhodey had just laughed and asked him if he really thought that Mr. Stark would care about a tomato sauce stain. Being reminded of who they were talking about halted his panic in an instant and made Peter wonder why he was even worried anyway. Mr. Stark had never gotten mad at him for something small like that. In retrospect, it seemed so incredibly stupid that he'd gotten himself so worked up over nothing. A startling revelation passed through his mind, and Peter realized just how frequently his knee-jerk reaction to any sort of disturbance was panic. It was… deeply unsettling to realize that, and not wanting to deal with it at that moment, he put that thought on the shelf too.

The pizza was cold now, and unpleasantly greasy in Peter's hand. He took a bite anyways, just to give himself something to do.

"I almost forgot your name is James," he admitted once he'd swallowed. Rhodey just nodded his head, like he'd expected nothing less.

"I know where I am based off of what people are calling me." Rhodey said as he leaned forward to snag a slice for himself. "If it's 'James', I'm with my family. If it's 'Colonel Rhodes', I'm on base… or in court or talking to government officials or whatever." He waved his hand nonchalantly and the floppy tip of the pizza wobbled. "And if it's 'Rhodey', I'm with Tony or the Avengers crew, or y'know, just friends in general."

Peter smiled as his mind wandered back to his and Mr. Stark's first meeting. He'd rattled off three nicknames for him in under a minute, and all of them had been set to the tune of 'little kid wearing adult's clothes'. At the time he'd been too nervous about having been caught out in a lie to feel properly insulted by the 'little boy' jabs.

"Mr. Stark's got a nickname for everyone, huh," Peter muttered and took another bite. Rhodey's brow lifted.

"He's got a list of names for everyone. It's his life-long passion project. Where've you been?"

"I've only heard him call you 'Rhodey'."

"Good," he said flatly. "The rest of 'em make strangers give us the side-eye."

The laughter that remark pulled out of him was so unexpected that he choked on his food. Coughing – and yet still laughing – Peter's free hand reached around to hold his aching side. Rhodey thumped him on the back a couple times until he could breathe again.

"Don't kill yourself," Rhodey cautioned, and Peter could hear the smile in his voice. "I know my jokes are stellar, but damn, I gotta have you all in one piece when Tony comes back."

Wiping the wetness from his eyes with his non-greasy hand – and determinedly ignoring his hot cheeks – Peter cast him a speculative look. It was kind of amazing that Mr. Stark was so influential and charismatic, not just in the public sphere but in his own private circles, that he could make up names for his friends and have them stick indefinitely. That 'Rhodey' and 'Pepper' could erase almost all recollection of 'James' and 'Virginia', and that the owners of those names seemed to be okay with it.

"I wonder what nicknames he'll come up with for his son," Peter mused before popping the last bit of crust into his mouth and chewing on it thoughtfully. Rhodey's brow furrowed in response.

"You think it'll be a boy?"

The question caught Peter off guard, and he paused mid-chew.

"Is he not a boy?" He asked around a mouthful of bread. He swallowed hard at Rhodey's pointed look. "Mr. Stark always refers to the baby with male pronouns, so I thought he was."

"It's way too soon for a doctor to be able to tell the gender."

"Oh."

Should he have known that? Rhodey had said it like the fact was common knowledge… and maybe it was. It suddenly struck Peter how little he actually knew about babies and pregnancy and all that stuff. Sex Ed at school had basically taught him to use contraceptives to avoid STDs, STIs, and pregnancy (which was sound advice, no complaints there), but nothing really about what came after. Peter was living with a pregnant lady, and soon would be helping to look after a baby. He should know how they develop and how they grew. What to expect from the newborn he'd be living with… and from the baby and toddler that he or she would grow up to be.

'Your place is here.'

Mr. Stark had told him that just days ago, and the reassurance warmed him from the inside whenever he was reminded of it; his place in life, and the promise of a future. Peter knew he had a dopey grin on his face, but couldn't be bothered to wipe it off. Not even when Rhodey shot him a curious look.

"Y'know, me, Nat, and Bruce got a bet going for the baby's gender," Rhodey said, jarring Peter from his daze. "You wanna get in on the pool?"

"What?" Peter asked him dumbfounded. "You guys bet on that sort of thing?"

"Sure," Rhodey reached for his drink on the coffee table. "We've been doing it for years. It keeps things interesting and it helps to get to the bottom of some burning questions."

Peter blinked in shock and tried to imagine the Avengers being so friendly with one another. The image that came to mind seemed unbelievable, like staged pictures in a photoshoot. It ran in stark contrasted with what he had actually seen of them; violently fighting one another only to be reunited years later under icy cold tension. The idea that they had been team mates and genuine friends, at one time if not still, brought a smile to Peter's face.

"Like what?"

Rhodey shot him a smirk and took a sip from his glass.

"Like, can anyone else lift Thor's hammer." Peter's eyebrows shot up with unparalleled speed and he swelled up in anticipation of the answer. "We already tested it. No one passed the worthiness test. The hammer's got high standards if you ask me," Rhodey grumbled, and Peter got the impression that the 'test' had resulted in many bruised egos.

"We also had a long-term bet going for what Cap's first curse word would be," Rhodey added casually, swirling his glass before setting it back on the table. Again, Peter found himself on the edge of his seat. "Natasha won that one, but I still say she had an unfair advantage. Being a spy and all, knowing people and what makes them tick is her job description."

"What'd he say?" Peter rushed out, eyes wide in excitement. Rhodey smiled and opened his mouth to respond, but then seemed to reconsider.

"Rogers' potty mouth said something unfit for underage ears."

"Dude, I'm not five!" Peter said indignantly. He could feel his shoulders bunching up as Rhodey stared at him with growing amusement. "C'mon, I thought you're supposed to be 'fun Uncle Rhodey'?"

Peter blurted it out without thinking, and immediately wished that he could take it back. His mouth snapped shut and his mind started to run on a hamster wheel. How could he explain that he didn't mean to imply that Rhodey was his uncle? It was just because they were talking about his niece and nephew before, and Peter was still thinking of them. Yeah, that was it. Peter hadn't meant to be so literal.

But Rhodey was just smiling to himself, completely unfazed by Peter's assertion.

"Hmmm… yeah. Guess I am now," he murmured fondly, and the tense knot in Peter unraveled. "Fine, he called Fury a son of a bitch."

Peter blew out a long breath and deflated in to the couch.

"Wow."

"Yeah. Pretty ballsy stuff," Rhodey agreed. "But, I gotta give it to Cap for having the guts to live out that particular dream. Who hasn't wanted to call their boss a son of a bitch?" Peter laughed at that, though he couldn't relate to it. The only boss he'd ever had was also his guardian, and he'd never been quite that pissed at him. "So you want in on this pot or not? Buy-in is ten bucks."

Peter took a moment to consider it. He wondered briefly if Mr. Stark would be angry to know that his former team mates were making bets about his baby. He honestly couldn't predict whether he would be amused by their antics, angry at their indirect involvement in his life when it was clear that he wanted nothing to do with them, or indifferent to it all. But under Rhodey's waiting gaze, he decided that what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. He stood up to pull his wallet out of his back pocket.

"I'm still going with boy," he said, smoothing out a crumpled ten on the coffee table and handing it over. Rhodey pocketed it with a smirk.

"We'll see," Rhodey said with a tone that suggested to Peter that he was betting on 'girl'. He sat back down and Rhodey nodded towards the tv. "One more round, or you done for the night?"

"No way! We're gonna play 'til I beat you!" Peter exclaimed, suddenly full of energy and a thirst to prove himself. Rhodey eyed him wearily, and Peter was suddenly reminded who he was with; Rhodey not Ned. Ned could, and had before, stayed up with him until three in the morning playing games. But Rhodey, of course, had his limits. "Or at least until I place seventh," he amended and Rhodey looked relieved.

"Aight, let's do it."

Peter smiled and picked up his own controller, but not before wiping his greasy hands with a napkin. He wasn't a total savage, and there was basic gamer etiquette to follow. Rhodey scrolled through a few options and picked the last tournament. They raced the first track. Then the second and third. Peter did marginally better with each track, and it was looking like he wouldn't have to suffer the humiliation of finishing dead last again. The final track, rainbow road, a multicoloured track suspended in outer space, presented itself and Peter waited for the light to turn green.

The race began, and they'd barely made it over the first hill before Rhodey's kart veered hard to the left and hopped over the star-shaped fence. Luigi's green cap disappeared over the side and fell into outer space.

"Good-bye cruel world?" Peter asked, his eyes darting between his own kart's progress and Rhodey's suicide mission. But then a section of the rainbow track appeared in the distance, growing closer and closer to Luigi's falling kart, and he stuck the landing. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me!" Peter spluttered as Rhodey laughed smugly. Luigi, now much farther ahead than anyone else, raced on. "Not cool," he grumbled, trudging along at his own pace.

Okay, fine, so there was no way that Peter was going to win this round due in part to Rhodey's spectacular bit of cheating, but he could make sure that he didn't come in last again. After a minute of intensely focused silence, the finish line appeared. Peter crossed it entering into the second lap.

"Two can play at that game," he mumbled and veered to the left at the top of the hill.

"No, wait, that's not-" Rhodey said too late as Peter jumped over the star fence. He knew instantly that he had misjudged where the jump off point was as his kart fell deep in to the star speckled abyss. "You flew too close to the sun, buddy."

"Yeah, maybe," Peter begrudgingly agreed as the little flying dude on a cloud flew down, fished his kart out of the void and placed him back on the track. A frown tugged at his face as he realized how far back the stunt had set him. So much for not placing last.

"Y'gotta put in the hours. Can't cheat the game 'til you know the game."

Peter sighed as he urged his little kart on. It was pointless now. There was no way he was going to win, but still he carried on.

"Guess I'll just have to learn," he conceded, trailing along pathetically after everyone who had surpassed him.

That night, Peter lay in the bed in Rhodey's guest room. The sheets were starchy and uncomfortable, like they were brand new out of the package. Or had been sitting in the linen cupboard for too long. He wondered when was the last time anyone had slept in them. The glow from his phone illuminated the dark room as he scrolled through his phone. Obtaining the WiFi password from Rhodey had been… enlightening.

'Really? You Millennials can't go one night without your phone, huh?'

'Actually, I'm Gen Z.'

A bit of an awkward pause had followed, and Peter had worried that the correction had offended him in some way. But then, with a sigh, Rhodey had caved and given him the password.

'War Machine forever, all caps, no spaces, 'for' like the number four and 'ever' like e-v-a.'

He couldn't help but laugh at that, and to his credit, Rhodey had taken it in stride. After making Peter promise to not tell Mr. Stark about it, and Peter assuring him that he took password security very seriously, he'd rubbed a tired hand over his eyes and gone to bed. Peter, alone in the guest room, had taken great pleasure in typing 'WARMACHINE4EVA' into the password field.

With that done, he had begun his nightly routine: reading up about what was happening in the world.

It was deeply unhealthy to do this to himself, Peter knew that, and yet he couldn't make himself stop completely. He had tried to strike a balance by cutting back the amount of time he spent pouring over various media sources, but it was almost like an addiction. Even as things in his own life settled in to a comfortable routine of stability, he still had the need to find out how the rest of the world had been affected by the snap. Every night, without fail, he'd scroll through articles that illustrated the irrevocable change in the world; On a larger scale, falling infrastructures and over taxed services, on a smaller scale, devastating human interest stories. It felt surreal to know that he had been there, involved in the world changing event that had reshaped every aspect of daily life.

Peter's eyes skimmed over article titles, each one prompting new questions that he had never thought to consider. One published in a Canadian newspaper caught his eye:

'Ontario Court Rules in Favour of Family of Vanished Life Insurance Claimant.'

Oh, shit.

Without needing to click on the article, Peter could already foresee that the outcome of this would result in life insurance companies being bankrupted from the massive number payouts that they were obligated to make. He opened the article anyway, out of a sense of morbid curiosity, and sure enough he was right. The court case in question, Adler v. Shielded Life Financial, was lynch-pinned on two points: if the vanished could be considered 'dead', and whether or not the manner of death of those who vanished in the snap adhered to their life insurance policies. The final ruling demanded that the Adler family be paid the full payout immediately, and Peter wondered how long it would be before similar cases came up and overwhelmed the company. It was staggering to consider how many insurance companies would go under because of this.

Because of the thing that he'd been involved in.

Endless consequences had been set in motion that day in May. Surviving it and witnessing the perpetual effects of that one action was like watching dominoes fall while lying on ground level. Without an aerial view, he couldn't see the sprawling pattern that they would create. He could only see the twists and turns as they fell.

At first, the helplessness that came with watching the world face an onslaught of crises had infuriated him because it had felt as though he was wasting time. Sitting on his bed, watching through his phone as the world reshape itself out of necessity, and knowing that he should be doing something if only he could see the changes coming. If only he could have warning and time to plan before it was upon him.

The day that he had realized that his usefulness was limited had been simultaneously humbling and liberating. Realizing his own mediocrity was a difficult pill to swallow, but to be released from his own expectation that he fix… well, everything, was like escaping drowning and breathing that first breath of air. He didn't know why he had ever gotten it into his head that he could fix this. There was just so much of it everywhere. It extended in every direction, father than Peter could possibly perceive.

That's why, when he saw Dr. Banner at Mr. Stark's wedding, he hadn't felt compelled to seize the opportunity and bombard him with every question that he had thought of since he last saw him. Indeed, he had thought of many. He had taken weeks, stealing moments between studying for his school entrance exams and living in Mr. Stark's company, to fully immerse himself in Dr. Foster's various works on Einstein-Rosen Bridges; Portals that used the power of the space stone. It was the closest thing he could find to research about the infinity stones on Earth. Well, research that was in the public domain anyway. SHIELD had surely squirreled away much more research, all of it under lock and key.

Finding out that Jane Foster had been among those to vanish had set barely containable panic ablaze deep within him. Her family and friends had lost her as a person, but the world had lost the leading expert in space magic (not that that was her official title or anything, but Peter thought it was accurate). She was one of the few who might've had a chance at restoring those lost. That was just one more hope blown out like a match in the wind.

Upon seeing Dr. Banner again, Peter did feel the initial spark of panic and desperation. A million questions had bubbled up to the surface and there were so many theories that Peter had wanted to discuss with him.

But all those questions and theories had died in his throat when he saw the way that Mr. Stark looked at Ms. Potts. She looked beautiful in her wedding dress, a part of Peter's brain had acknowledged that when he had first seen her in it, but Mr. Stark looked at her like she was the focal point of his world. Peter had seen glimpses of the adoration that was pouring off of him during his time living with them, but he could see now how it had been concealed, but never diminished, by the fast-pace bustle of their lives. And maybe also Peter's presence. He knew that Mr. Stark made an effort to not appear too sappy in front of him. But this was their wedding day, and Mr. Stark made no attempt made to censure his love for his wife.

An intense realization had struck Peter in that moment. One that had caused him to swallow all of his questions and needling. This day would never happen again. It was a shining moment in time, one of heartfelt significance for the couple, and the thought of spoiling it made Peter physically cringe. He reminded himself of who he was, and the extent of his capability, and it just didn't make any sense to drag all of this back up when it would ruin a perfect day.

He'd let it go. It was a fight to be fought on another day, he'd told himself. With surprising ease, he'd moved on. Or at least, he'd contained his curiosity for when he was alone.

Scrolling further down in the news feed, another headline jumped out at Peter:

'A Nation within a Nation: Norway Cedes Land to Asgardians'.

Peter had never met Thor, but he wasn't ignorant to the situation involving him and his people. They had come out of the fight worse off than most other groups of people, having lost many in the destruction of Asgard and again when Thanos attacked. And then the surviving population had been halved by the snap. Those who'd survived were homeless, but maybe not anymore.

'The Prime minister of Norway, Bjørn Olsen, put forth a proposition to the cabinet on June 5th to cede a reservation of land to the surviving Asgardian population, who arrived on Earth on May 12th. The municipality of Tønsberg in Southern Norway, spanning 102 square kilometers, will be renamed 'New Asgard'. Abandoned since HYDRA's massacre of the village on March 9th 1942, Tønsberg will be repopulated with Asgardians seeking asylum on Earth. In a public statement, Prime Minister Olsen expressed his sincerest hopes that New Asgard "… will serve as a new home for the legendary figures, once thought of as Gods, whose lives and experiences with us have done so much to shape our cultural identity."'

Peter's eyes widened as he paused his reading to process what that all meant. That was… unbelievably generous of the Norwegian government to permit, and also totally unexpected. Peter could feel a smile warm over his face. His eyes skimmed over the rest of the article, glossing over the sentimental stuff and searching for the details of how 'a nation within a nation' would operate. Much to Peter's annoyance, the relevant information was mentioned in a short paragraph near the end:

'… went on to clarify that New Asgard will govern itself as a sovereign nation under the rule of King Thor Odinson, thereby granting Asgardians governance over their own lives within their own borders without interference from the Norwegian government. However, outside of New Asgard's borders, Asgardians will be subjected to the Norwegian law.'

Huh. A postage stamp sovereign nation operating within a much larger democratic one. That had potential to be either a great partnership or a relentless struggle of power.

Think positive, he ordered himself. This was the first bit of news he'd seen that was good. It made him hopeful (and what a wonderfully dangerous thing that was) that the world might be changing, but not in exclusively terrible ways.

Two days later, Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts had returned from their honeymoon, and life fell back into the pattern that Peter had grown accustom to.

A few days after that, Peter found himself slumped on his bed with his laptop resting on his duvet. He was researching again, but this time he really wished that he hadn't started down this particular rabbit hole. The scientist in him had sought out answers, and he had gone after them not knowing what was in store for him. Researching had always been a relatively harmless past-time. Sometimes the thing he found out took him a little out of his comfort zone, but as he stared at a short, thirty second video of a CGI unborn baby developing in a CGI lady's body, he suddenly longed for the days when he was happily unaware of how godawful pregnancy was.

Sure, he had known before that pregnancy and child birth were hard, but he had never really needed to think about the details before. He had never known anyone who was pregnant, and with that distance came a welcomed sort of ignorance. Pregnancy, as he had understood it, was uncomfortable and then painful when the actual labour happened. But the evidence before Peter would suggest that this whole thing was just misery start to finish.

That CGI lady's organs were smooshed in a way that would be classified as a medical emergency if the offending smoosher were not also a baby. In those wonderful bygone days, Peter hadn't realized the extent of the organ smooshing that occurred. Honestly, he'd been better off not knowing. That was a simpler time, back when he was under the delusion that pregnancy was just 'kinda hard'. He couldn't stand to look at the image anymore, and with one hand he reached over to snap the laptop shut. For good measure, he pushed it a little further away from him.

How were there still people in the world? For a moment, Peter marveled at how the human race hadn't gone extinct since the invention of birth control. Not all, but many chose to do this to themselves on purpose, and Peter couldn't fathom the thought process that went in to wanting this. Yeah, okay, babies were cute, but to get there you had to go through all sorts of hellish body wrecking. The mystery was how anyone could look past that initial off-putting fact to get to the cute baby part of it.

He should do something nice for Ms. Potts. He wasn't sure what the thing would be, nothing seemed big enough to compensate for the pain she was going to go through, but damn… all Peter knew was that she deserved more than what she currently had. He was so wrapped up in that thought, he barely noticed Mr. Stark knocking at his door.

"Hey, Kid-" He said as he walked in the room, cutting himself off abruptly when he caught sight of Peter's face. "You alright? You're lookin' a little green around the gills."

Peter coughed and tried to rearrange his features into something less blatantly sickened.

"Yep. Totally fine."

That was unconvincing, even he could hear it, but he kept his fake-ass smile in place, silently urging Mr. Stark not to pry. Mr. Stark's brow furrowed and his eyes darted between Peter and the laptop sitting two feet away from him.

"Uh-huh," he muttered, and Peter tensed under his scrutiny. It lasted for a second, before the suspicion smoothed over. Mr. Stark rolled his eyes and made a beckoning motion with his hand. "Come on, Sticky Fingers, I got a chore for you."

Peter rose to his feet, eager to go along with anything to get him out of this awkward situation. He approached Mr. Stark, who held out his hand to reveal the small bits of metal that he held in it. They were nondescript L-shaped brackets fashioned out of sleek metal. A teeny tiny light bulb was nestled in the bend, and Peter guessed that it would light up once whatever-these-things-were became activated. Mr. Stark placed two of them in Peter's hand and tipped his chin towards one of the tall windows.

"They'll self-adhere to the drywall around the window, just put them in the top two corners."

Hmmm… so probably a security system of some sort. Before Mr. Stark had bought the apartment, the manager had stipulated in the contract that he wasn't permitted to rip up the wiring in the building. Peter found that to be a fair request, but since that meant that FRIDAY couldn't be hardwired into the building, Mr. Stark had deemed it entirely unacceptable. It had been funny at first to hear Mr. Stark begin to ask: 'Hey, FRI, dim the-' or 'FRIDAY, when is the-' , only to cut himself off when he remembered that the AI wasn't installed here. Peter had wondered when was the last time that he had lived without an AI present, but had tactfully decided to keep that question to himself. He'd also thought that it spoke volumes to Mr. Stark's reputation that the manager had decided to include such an oddly specific stipulation without an prompting.

Slipping the two brackets in to his pocket, Peter climbed up the wall with ease.

"You know you can buy a home security system, right?"

He pressed one bracket in to the top-right corner, and the light lit up a small speck of green.

"Correction, I can buy an annoying piece of subpar tech that beeps every time the doors and windows open," Peter glanced down at Mr. Stark, who stared back at him with a somewhat insulted air, as though he were offended that Peter suggest that any other tech could compare to his own. "That's the beauty of having an AI, kid. FRIDAY screens these sorts of things and alerts me urgently if there's actually an intruder, and non-urgently when my kid's got the late night jitters and has decided that doors are too mainstream."

Peter froze, the second bracket in his hand hovering a few inches away from its corner. Lately, he had taken to sneaking out through his bedroom window. He was never gone for long, and he left with no real purpose in mind. He wasn't Spider-Man anymore, but the open air called to him all the same. And the height helped to clear his mind when he couldn't sleep. Also, he would be lying if he didn't admit that he found that being off the grid, at least for a little while, with no one knowing where he was or being able to check up on him was deeply satisfying.

"You know about that, huh?" He tried to keep the guilt out of his voice, but his attempt at nonchalance was in vain.

"Sure do."

Peter pressed the bracket in to the corner and saw the light flicker on. With the task completed, he decided to remain stuck on the wall. He was about a foot over Mr. Stark's head, and he liked the idea of keeping a little distance between them. At least until he could gage how pissed he was. Glancing back down, Peter could see Mr. Stark looking up at him with poorly concealed irritation.

"Fun fact:," he continued, toying with the remaining brackets in his hand. "Rebellious teenagers are the leading cause of grey hair in men over forty. Now, me personally, I think I could rock the silver fox look better than most, but I would also appreciate it if you didn't turn me grey before my time."

Peter breathed out a long breath that he'd been holding. Okay, so he was only minimally angry. Like maybe a 3.5 or 4/10. That wasn't bad.

"Yeah, okay, that's reasonable," he muttered, releasing one of his hand to scratch at the back of his neck.

"I thought so," Mr. Stark said scathingly and Peter's cheeks flush.

"I'll let you know whenever I leave the apartment."

"No, see, you don't have to," Mr. Stark sighed, frustration lacing every syllable. "That's why we're installing these little patchwork FRIDAYs in the windows and front door, so you don't have to report all your comings-and-goings to me. Keep up." Peter's flush darkened, and Mr. Stark's eyes became more serious, without entirely losing their flippant candor. "I got no interest in being the warden around here, so I figure this is a good compromise. You can keep up your nightly wanderings so long as I know when you leave and when you come back."

Peter blinked, surprised at how easily he'd gotten off the hook. When May had caught him sneaking out she'd gone completely nuclear on him. There'd been much more swearing involved… and yelling… and then a month of being grounded. But then again, she'd also caught him in his spider suit thereby catching him exposed in his double life. So perhaps context was important here.

"You two want ice cream?" Ms. Potts' voice floated in from the kitchen, completely derailing Peter's train of thought. He jumped off of the wall and landed in a crouch on the floor.

"Yes, please!" he said a bit louder than he had intended and hurried out the door. Behind him, he could hear Mr. Stark laughing, but he was incapable of curbing his enthusiasm even if he had wanted to.

In the kitchen, Ms. Potts stood beside the island. Three bowls sat on the marble top; two empty and one with ice cream already scooped in it. She smirked at him as he climbed up on one of the stools and she handed him the full bowl.

Oh, so she had anticipated that he would say 'yes'. Was he really that predictable? Or maybe… she just knew, because she knew Peter. Warmth bloomed in his chest, causing him to smile down at his bowl.

Beside him, Mr. Stark slid on to a stool and pulled the container of ice cream and a bowl towards himself.

"And I got strawberries, too," Ms. Potts added, pulling a clear plastic container out of a grocery bag and setting it on the counter. Peter's grin broadened.

"Thanks-" Ms. Potts, he finished silently, catching himself before he said her maiden name aloud. Instead, his sentence halted unnaturally, and Ms. Potts shot him a sympathetic look that made his heart clench. He was aware that she was Mrs. Stark now. If they were meeting for the first time, he would call her that, but he was familiar with her maiden name. It was… incorrect to call her that now, so he didn't. She had said at the wedding that Peter could call her 'Pepper' if he wanted. He didn't call her that either because… he didn't want to. He couldn't explain why he felt comfortable calling Colonel Rhodes 'Rhodey', but not Ms. Potts 'Pepper'. He just didn't. Instead, he avoided calling her by any name. And Ms. Potts, for her part, pretended not to notice.

"No problem," She said cheerily with a smile that made Peter's heart twinge with guilt. "You two are working hard, and what is summer without strawberries and ice cream?"

Peter's smile slipped in to a confused frown. He looked between Ms. Potts and the strawberries.

"But you're allergic to strawberries," he said hesitantly, as if trying to gently remind her of that fact. Ms. Potts' smile turned positively smug as she turned her attention to Mr. Stark. Peter glanced at the man beside him just in time to see his eyes roll.

"My God, Pep, that was almost ten years ago. Let it go."

What?

Peter knew that he was missing something – this was like the 12% thing all over again- but before he could ask what they were talking about, Ms. Potts sent her husband a jovial wink and turned her attention back to Peter.

"You're right, I am allergic," She said, taking the ice cream container from Mr. Stark and trading him for the container of strawberries. "I'm just sticking to ice cream."

"Jeez, these are huge," Mr. Stark exclaimed and Peter looked closer at the container. His eyes widened at the sight of the massive strawberries inside. Rather than many normal sized berries, four gigantic ones took up all the space in the box. The largest was the size of his fist, and all of them were perfectly red without any hint of white or green. Peter had never seen strawberries so close to perfection, and his mouth began to water. "Who grew these? André the Giant? He got a fruit stand on the side of the road?"

"Isn't he dead?" Peter asked. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember. "I thought he died, like, decades ago."

"Don't go poking holes in my jokes, kid."

Peter's smile ticked up at Mr. Stark's irritation.

"What joke?" he asked with mock seriousness. "I don't want these anymore if they were grown ghost-to-table. I've read that hauntings are like ant infestations once you invite them in."

"What weird corners of the deep web do you visit, kid?"

"They were all that big at every grocery store that I went to." Ms. Potts said a little louder, speaking over the banter. She passed Mr. Stark a knife and small cutting board.

"Really?" Peter asked in disbelief. Mr. Stark started slicing up the fist-sized strawberry and Peter eyed it with fascination.

"Yeah, I know. Crazy, right?" Peter nodded in agreement, absolutely mesmerized by the sheer amount of juice seeping out of each slice. "All the produce at the store looks amazing, and these are the best-looking strawberries I've ever seen in my life, so I had to buy them." Peter's heart leaped with joy as Mr. Stark tipped the cutting board and used the knife to sweep the whole berry in to Peter's bowl. He was so enraptured by the way the juice was mingling with the vanilla ice cream, he didn't notice the contemplative frown on Mr. Stark's face. "I can appreciate them from afar," Ms. Potts added, prodding her ice cream with a spoon to better soften it.

Without hesitating a moment longer, Peter scooped up one of the slices – it balanced precariously on his spoon, it's size completely dwarfing it – with a bit of ice cream and shoveled it into his mouth. It was sweet and tangy, just like all strawberries were, but somehow more, with flavor that was amplified to nearly intoxicating heights.

"S'okay," Peter mumbled through his full mouth. "I'll 'ppreciate 'em enough for da bof of us."

Ms. Potts gave him a funny look, but he was too far gone in his bliss to care about deciphering its meaning.

"I've always considered my allergy as a mild annoyance. Just something that is what it is," she said, propping her chin on her fist and eyeing Peter strangely. "I never resented it until now."

Mr. Stark laughed as he cut up a second berry.

"Getting jealous, are we?"

Ms. Potts shrugged and continued to watch Peter eat. He was starting to feel a bit self-conscious under her gaze, but his mouth was too full to protest.

"I just want a piece of whatever makes this kid smile brighter than a thousand-watt bulb."

Mr. Stark hummed in agreement and turned his attention on to Peter as well.

"He puts Edison to shame, that's for sure."

Ms. Potts' eyes twinkled with mirth. Peter bristled under the pair's teasing, though he sure why. They were teasing him about being too happy, and that could never be a bad thing.

"M'not deaf," he grumbled, trying to keep the whining out of his voice and being somewhat successful.

"No one's saying that you are," Mr. Stark said and turned his attention back to his sliced strawberry. "But even you gotta admit, you're a man of simple pleasures. It doesn't take much to make you happy."

Peter paused his chewing, his eyes becoming shadowed. A pit appeared in place of his stomach, and it ached for only a moment before he decided fastidiously to not allow himself to fall in. He refused to become consumed by the unintentional carelessness of such an innocuous statement. Mr. Stark hadn't meant anything by it, and he focused on that. Instead he rearranged his features into something more light hearted.

"Did you just call me a man?"

"So the saying goes," he flapped a hand dismissively and scooped up a piece of strawberry. "It rolls off the tongue better than 'boy of simple pleasures', though that's more accurate in your case." He bit into the berry, and Peter watched with immense satisfaction as his eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Shit, that is good."

Peter snorted into his ice cream as Ms. Potts swatted Mr. Stark's arm and told him to 'watch his language'. Like it mattered. Peter was nearly seventeen and had heard much worse things. It was ridiculous how often he had to remind others of this. But then his eyes drifted to Ms. Potts' stomach, which was starting to become visibly swollen, and he remembered that someday it would matter to someone else.

Btw, it was really difficult to come up with a legitimate sounding but fake life insurance company name. I swear all the companies that exist are some combination of 'sun, liberty, life, financial, insure, or secure'. Snap together two or three of those words and there's a good chance that company already exists.