"You've got to be fucking kidding me, Pete."
Tony admits, it's not his best reaction to something he doesn't like, but it does fall into a long laundry list of poor reactions to situations out of his control. He blamed himself, of course, for not knowing sooner; being all over the globe, dealing with fallout from Thanos and his attempt at universal devastation, it wasn't exactly his easiest role as an Avenger. He hadn't been around enough, hadn't been persistent in his help with Peter, in making sure he was really okay — yeah, no, he failed the kid, and that must be why he's got him cornered on the balcony, telling him that he's ditching Earth for space. For fucking space. It doesn't matter how short the visit would be — it's fucking space. Tony's nightmare zone, the place that snaps him awake too many nights. Those stars looking back at you, telling you how insignificant your life is, how easy it would be to be utterly swept away in the nothing that exists beyond the Earth's atmosphere—
Pete wants to go into that. Willingly. Again.
And yet here the kid stands, looking so patient as he waits for Tony to stop pacing and start saying every version of 'no' he's got tucked in the pockets of his really expensive pants. His arm is still in a cast, because he's not a spiderling with healing powers, and he feels out of breath as he storms left and right. "Did you forget the last time you didn't listen to me when I said stay home? You ended up billions of years away from Earth—"
"—fighting for the people I love," Peter says.
"—to die for nothing, because of that ugly purple asshat!"
"It wasn't nothing. Dr. Strange knew it wasn't nothing. It was all for something bigger than us — it was to win in the end."
"Dr. Strange is a dick who owes me twenty bucks."
"Mr. Stark—"
"I lost you there, and you're just cheerfully telling me you're going back!" His voice raises more than he'd wanted, biting and full of desperation and anger that he'd wanted to keep at bay, but there's no reversing it now; lucky him, Peter brings out the most uncoordinated retorts from him when it comes to a battle of arguments and wills. Breathing sharply and running a free hand over his scalp, he tries to devise some sort of method in which this will end in his favor. Then he looks at him sharply and gives the most immature reaction he can scrounge up: "You go with them, I'm revoking your status as Avenger, right here, right now."
"No you're not," Peter says plainly.
He's already dealt with this conversation once before, with May. The little bastard's had practice.
"I'm disowning you right on the fucking spot!"
Peter shakes his head.
"I'll take your fancy iron suit."
The kid shrugs. Tony nearly sees red at the casual way in which he does, and slaps his hand on the railing so hard he kind of regrets it, with the way the bones in his hand rattle. He feels like a parent who is slowly losing all control of their stronghold and, consequently, blood pressure. He needs a doctor. He needs a priest to exorcise him and his mentee. Or maybe just a priest to put him in an early grave, because if there's no way to convince him to stay—
"Peter, take you take this seriously for five seconds; you didn't think this through long enough, and you should know better than to launch yourself to the one place where you got killed by a psychopath with a magic glove."
"As opposed to not launching myself into space back then and dying here on earth instead, in some museum? That wasn't on you."
"Wasn't it, though?" The silence that follows is damning. "... I was supposed to keep you and everyone else safe; that was my job as a hero."
"And you did keep everyone safe. If you and the others hadn't kept fighting for us, we wouldn't be here. You know that. I know you do, even if you're beating yourself up over it. You're not to blame for this, Mr. Stark."
"No, nonono, don't turn this into some ass-patting session. I'm not letting you mess up what you just got back. Can't you just — let them report back the news? Can't you let yourself rest and get better?"
"This is how I get better. And you don't have much of a choice in what I do, sir. May said I can go, Quill said I can go — And you're not my guardian." Something about that stings more than it should. Because the kid's right; as much as he feels like he's Peter's... something, he knows that it's something mutually crafted between them, a fantasy that both are more than happy to indulge in. Peter needed a father figure. Tony slowly wanted a kid. In a way, it culminated into Morgan, his Pepperoni, and for that he can never owe Peter enough. So no. No, Peter is not his child. He's his protégé, his teammate, his friend, his family, a reason to keep fighting — but he's also a Parker, his own person. The longer they talk, the more Tony realizes it's a losing battle on his end. And it hurts.
"I'm doing this. But I want to do this knowing you've got my back," Peter says. He leans against the railing, looking up at a dimming skyline. One, maybe two, stars barely twinkle through the New York City skyline. This city's always been so bright. For Tony, it's always cut through the infinite, twinkling danger above like a knife, up until the sky was punctured by the Tesseract. "I know you hate space. And it freaks you out. And now I get it — honestly, I get it, 100%. When I think of going out there, it makes me break out in this cold sweat, and I feel like I'm gonna throw up all over the place. I feel like running and screaming and hiding under a blanket somewhere until someone else goes instead."
"Then why?"
"Because you're scared of it, but you went, too." Peter turns, one hand on the rail. He seems... confident. Less exhausted. "My uncle, he always loved that old saying: that being brave isn't about being fearless — it's about being terrified as hell but doing what's right anyway. That's how Ben lived, and that's how you lived all this time as Iron Man. You knew that Dr. Strange was in danger, and that Thanos couldn't have that stone, so you made the choice to get on that ship and face your fears. That's bravery. That's being a bad ass. And that's what I gotta aim to be.
"I do those things so nobody else has to, kid," Tony says miserably.
"But you shouldn't have do it alone. None of us should. I'm not going to, either, not by myself." Peter takes one glance back up, like his stare could pierce the cosmos and see someone else looking back; he knows just who it'd be, too. "Like you said, back when that ferry almost sank: you wanted me to be better, right? I've always tried to be 'better' enough for you. So... you're gonna see me off, and you're totally gonna like it, or else."
There's not a lot of heat behind that, but Tony shakes his head with an exasperated smile anyway.
"When'd you get such a backbone, underoos?"
"I'm pretty sure I had to go through a few bad-fitting ones first."
Tony's scared that he'll have to miss this again, this back and forth banter, this reminder that the meek boy at school is actually sharp-tongued and full of sass. And you know what? Fuck the other introspective — Peter's his kid. His adoptive weird kid that he only gets rights to on the weekends. He wants him to do well, and he wants him to grow up strong, and he wants him to have whatever the hell he wants out of life. He wants him to be around for Morgan as she grows up, so she can see what a real hero's like. He wants Pete to find himself a partner and maybe retire someday feeling accomplished and full of amazing and shitty experiences that shape him into something he can be glad to have been a part of. If there's anything Tony wants from the rest of his life, it's this: to make Pepper and Morgan happy, and to watch Peter Parker become a force to be reckoned with.
He wraps his hand around Peter's shoulders and rubs his arm, as they stand side by side. Peter breathes out softly like it's an absolutely perfect moment, but Tony's terrified. "I'm just scared of losing you again, kid."
"I know. But I feel good." He turns his gaze to Tony with some measure of serenity. "Really. I feel great. When May said I could go, I slept a whole eight hours straight. No nightmares, no restless legs. No nothing. Just — peace. I don't know if Gamora's going to be there, and it's gonna hurt like hell if I can't... see her again."
He has to stop, swallow hard, and press on. "But this is good. This is me, saying goodbye to her, and to that part of my life."
Tony almost apologizes to him, that he has to already feel like this; that he already has to learn how to let go after being shoveled so much shit. But the kid's done it before, hasn't he? With his parents. With his uncle. And now with someone who had been his sole inspiration for fighting, in that other world.
Instead he just squeezes the kid. He can't stop Pete, but he can damn well keep him going.
"You're sounding pretty adult there."
Peter grins and looks down, sheepish but relieved. "Yeah, well. I'm still a kid. So sayeth the federal law where we're all starting at the age we died being. But I like to think my extra time around has kind of given me a little more perspective..." His nose wrinkles, and he looks troubled for a moment. "God, I'm gonna have so much homework when I get back. So much homework."
"Rethinking your plan?"
"Heh. No way."
"... I'm sorry I threatened to take your cool suit."
"... Eh, my pajamas would've worked fine." He reaches around Tony's waist, hugging him back. He's about to say something that'll be sappy and sentimental, and Tony's actually gonna do him the favor of not downplaying it for once. Peter says, "Y'know, I know you're not my dad, but sometimes you sure feel like one."
A pause.
Peter adds with impeccable Stark delivery: "Or maybe a like a grandpa."
Ha.
Tony loves his kids.
The goodbye is almost a farewell party, if Peter didn't know any better. A ton of the team managed to see him off as the Guardians boarded the Benatar, and it takes everything in him not to make a departing Titanic joke to someone in the general vicinity. Maybe not the best idea, to freak out May or Tony or Ned with that kind of dark humor. Instead he wraps his arms around his aunt and lets her hold him until she's ready to let go; at first he thinks they may be there all day, or that this was how she was planning to keep him from ever leaving — a sort of loophole in the written contract, so to speak. But then she pulls away, eyes watery.
"Take care of yourself, okay? Come back alive and well this time, or I'll build a ship and come for whoever's screwing that up. Got it?"
Peter nods, giving her his most placating, honest smile. As if he's just going on some field trip. "I will. I'll be careful."
Ned holds him just as long — he'd made another long trip just for this, but he said missing his chemistry quiz was sure the hell worth it — and Peter rubs circles in his friend's back as he works through the motions. It's funny, but it's mostly just... him comforting them, and that's okay. He's a little scared of facing the vast darkness of space, but he's not scared of dying. He's not scared of getting hurt. He's just scared of hurting them. Despite evidence to the contrary spanning over six months back, he had never wanted to be a burden on their hearts. Not ever.
When May worries, he worries. It's the natural order.
"I'll see you real soon," he tells Ned, clasping his hand. It's easy to remember their handshake. It's all muscle memory. Natural.
"Bring me back a space souvenir," Ned demands. "Something bad ass. And get your friend back so I can meet this super cool chick proper."
"You got it."
It's all a blur, honestly, and he feels bursting with emotion at the multitudes of people who meet him halfway: for hugs, for handshakes, for a gentle ribbing, for Rhodes and Nat's pinching and teasing, Dr. Banner's hands gripping his, or the way Wanda sweeps his bangs a little before pressing a familial kiss to the crown of his head; Morgan cries and cries, and Peter tries to bounce her in his arms and lift her spirits, but she can only seem to mourn the temporary loss of her playtime buddy — and her Spider-Man, which makes his cheeks flush and his heart feel too full. There are so many people here who he cares about. There's so many who seem to be rooting for him — people he can't possibly let down now. He's gonna be back. He's gotta come back. Because this is his team now, and they all worked so hard to pull him back into the living...
How could he possibly ruin all their hard work?
"... I'll see you all when I get back." He pauses on the ramp, reconsidering something with a mischievous grin before turning around and pointing towards the small crowd. "And by the way, before I forget — it was totally James Buchanan who let me fall over and bust open my chin, not Sam Wilson!" The small crowd of heroes go wild with laughter and all of the worry eases immediately.
"You traitor!" Bucky huffs, as Sam yells in victory.
"I freaking told y'all bastards I was innocent! I told you!"
Inside the ship, Tony and Steve stand alongside Quill as he points out the pathway through the systems that will take them and the Soul Stone to Vormir; Mr. Stark never leaves anything to chance, when it comes to displacing the stones properly, so Peter's not surprised he's making the Star-Lord pull up his fancy high-tech maps that rival Starkphones.
He slings his gym bag off his shoulder to carry at his side instead, dabbing away unshed tears before anyone can call him out on it. Or so he tries, anyway, but a soft hand runs along the nape of his neck, startling him into a yelp that gets everyone's attention immediately. A pair of antenna hover in the peripheral of his vision before he whips around to see Mantis with concern in her brow.
"You are sad! You are trying not to cry!"
"I'm — I'm fine!" Peter practically squawks. He's probably gone red, but Mr. Stark just shakes his head wistfully.
Steve says, "Hey, it's all good, kid; nothing wrong with feeling something," and smiles sympathetically as he approaches, offering Peter a hug that he wastes no time in taking. Under the loud protection of Quill and Tony's grumbling about estimated times of return, Peter leans in a little and passes a message on to the good Captain while he's in his firm grip.
"I know I already told Pepper," he whispers, "But... Watch out for Mr. Stark for me, okay? He freaks out about everything too much."
"Roger that, kid. You don't even need to say it. I got you covered."
"Ummm, what're you two conspiring about over there?" Tony calls out. Peter and Steve just shrug in unison. They'll take their words to the grave, if it'll avoid Tony trying vainly to denounce that he needs people looking out for him. The billionaire just huffs, throwing his hands up before approaching his mentee. "Alright, fine, don't tell me. Anyway, I've got something you probably don't want to leave without, young buck; wrist out, palm up, please."
Peter obeys with little fanfare, though his eyebrow is raising high with uncertainty.
"You're not about to cuff me to you or something so I can't go, are you?"
"Cute, but no. Trying to let go of my crippling anxiety at leaving you with Mr. 50% Stupid over there."
"Hey," Quill snipes.
Tony ignores him, slapping on a familiar yet entirely new web-slinger to Peter's wrist. It's snug and metallic, running across his skin with that bleeding tech that makes up the Iron Man and Iron Spider suit. This is his suit, the one he'd used to fight Thanos. The one that he used to fight Maw and defend Mr. Stark's life. It didn't feel like his, not really; not until this moment, when Tony closes his palm over the bracelet and Peter's wrist sacredly. Peter glances from the sophisticated equipment to Tony with wide, interested eyes, but he just grins. "Hey, you really think I wasn't going to suit you up for this? All you need to do is ask it to launch your suit, or tap in the commands, and it'll do it without delay. Only, you know. The suit will be on this ship and not billions of light-years from earth, so don't worry about a long wait-time."
"Wow," he breathes. He studies it with a sharp interest now, the kind that maybe would have gotten him the Stark Internship in another life. The real one that didn't involve big battles in Germany — not that he'd trade that for the world now.
Mr. Stark watches him patiently, and asks, "Last chance for you to stay on the ground — yes or no?"
"... No. I think I've been on the ground long enough." He smiles, all soft edges. "... Thank you, Mr. Stark."
"I'm getting some major deja vu here, kiddo," his mentor says, before giving him one last hug goodbye. "You're a good man, Pete. Just don't let it get to your head. And you be damn sure you send video messages every chance you get, so your weirdly attractive aunt doesn't get twenty years older in the span of a month from stress."
Rocket calls from the pilot's chair, "How about you keep this kid, and we get to take Morgan on adventures instead?"
Tony rolls his eyes and doesn't dignify it with an answer.
But Peter kind of loves the visual of a three-year-old space pirate.
It's hard to watch Mr. Stark go, when it's time to step off the ship and back onto the grassy knoll, all without him. It's hard to move to the cockpit and look out that big window there, seeing everyone bidding them goodbye — for just a short while. It's hard to press his hand to the glass and know that he's leaving this life behind, albeit temporarily, because as much as living as he was hurt, living without them for even a small window of time was something he'd really have to take some effort getting used to.
He's nervous. He's unsure of the future. But he's gonna do it, without hesitation. May waves at him with a smile and he can read her lips over the sounds of jump-starting engines: 'I love you.'
He loves her, too.
He loves 'em all.
They float higher and higher still, passing over the many towering buildings that make up New York City in their fast acceleration. It's funny, but he's rarely ever had a chance to enjoy it from the top view; he's gotten to swing among the high-risers, and he's gotten to look down on Queens in a moment of blinding panic, be it on a flying airplane or a speeding alien spacecraft, but it's the first real moment he's looked back down and seen a peaceful scene of his home from on high. He has to double-take, and while there's no one there, he could have sworn he'd seen an ever-watching figure in a red cloak, giving his own quiet goodbye from atop the old Avenger's tower. Maybe the sparks of light from a there-and-gone portal had been his imagination. He grins, because he knows that's a load of shit.
As they burst through clouds and layers of atmosphere, Peter at least can say he's quietly scared — but running into the smoke and fire anyway.
And that, as Ben says, is bravery.
"I'll see you all real soon," he whispers to the Earth.