Dissociation

Peter had been in battles before. He'd fought the other Avengers in an airport in Germany, although he wasn't sure that counted as an actual battle…they hadn't been trying to kill each other. His job had just been to contain the others…web them up so that they could all talk. He'd fought off petty drug dealers who had come after him with baseball bats and crowbars. He'd helped Mr. Stark in that park when they'd been fighting the aliens who had come for Dr. Strange and he'd fought Thanos on Titan. And after each battle, he had been fine. Mostly fine. Sure, he had nightmares sometimes, and there were times when he would wake up in his dark bedroom gasping for air, gripping his hands in his sheets to try and ground himself.

But he'd been fine. Being a superhero couldn't be fun all the time. He got that. But this…this was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

He'd woken up on Titan only seconds after watching himself turn to dust…only it hadn't been seconds. It had been five years. Five years. That made no sense. He'd apologized to Mr. Stark who had looked more afraid than he'd ever seen him, and then he'd closed his eyes and opened them again, thinking that maybe everything was okay, but Dr. Strange had been there, not Mr. Stark, and he'd told him that it had been five years and that the Avengers needed help.

Had he been dead? He hadn't felt dead. He'd just…closed his eyes. Just for a second! And then he'd stepped through a portal onto a battlefield of twisted metal and aliens and monsters and Thor was there and warriors from Wakanda and Wizards and he'd just been on TItan only he wasn't anymore! Miss Potts was in a suit and Mr. Stark…he was putting his arms around Peter like he never really had before, holding him close and pressing a kiss to his hair and looking at him in wonder, like he was something so important that had been lost and found again.

And Peter felt…wrong. Off. He let Mr. Stark hold him at arm's length like he had for their entire relationship only now Mr. Stark brought up a hand to cup his cheek and he looked like he might cry and his beard was streaked with more gray now, and his hair was gray at the temples, and it had been five years.

That thought was the last one Peter remembered having. From there on, it was fighting and swinging around and dodging lasers and blows from giant aliens and catching the Infinity Gauntlet and Miss Potts carrying him and…and it was like a dream. A terrible nightmare that he couldn't escape. He knew it was real only it didn't feel real and it was like his body was moving and fighting and his mouth was moving…but then he was conscious again. Awake. Truly awake, like surfacing from the pool and taking a gasping breath of air and feeling the world around him go back into focus.

Mr. Stark was holding the gauntlet.

He was holding it up, teeth clenched in agony as terrible rainbows of light danced under his skin. The man was shaking, nearly driven to his knees by the power in the gauntlet, and Peter knew what he was doing for the first time as he raced toward him. The world had gone from muffled to too loud and Peter could hardly stand it but he had to help…he had to do something! Mr. Stark couldn't live through using the power of the infinity stones, not by himself. He was human! He was Iron Man and he was the person Peter looked up to the most and he was brilliant and brave and so strong, but he was just a human. And Peter…well, he wasn't 100% sure what he was anymore, but he wasn't just a human.

Peter didn't know what instinct made him do it. He didn't know why exactly he thought it would help. But Mr. Stark had cupped his cheek in his hand and he'd kissed his hair and held him like Peter was his long lost son and he couldn't let the man do this alone, even as everyone else watched in exhausted horror. So he shoved his way to the front and reached out just as Mr. Stark lifted his right hand, mouth forming the words 'I am Iron Man', the same words that had started his hero worship of the man so many years ago, and grabbed his left one.

The pain was immediate and startling and worse than anything he'd ever felt before, but he glued his hand to Mr. Stark's the way he stuck to buildings and glass and everything else. One thing he'd learned about his new powers, nothing could move him when he decided to stick to something. And so he stuck to Mr. Stark's hand and felt the pain travel from the man's callused one to Peter's, starting at his palm and the inside of his fingers where they connected, and then up, up through his wrist. His elbow. His shoulder. From there, it branched out like a crack in a window, jagged and sharp and bright like lightning as he locked his knees and clenched his jaw, throwing his head back and trying not to scream. He didn't know if Mr. Stark even knew he was there. Then a light flashed and the air was filled with dust. All the while, there was only one thought in his head.

'Let me take it. Let me save him. Let me help.'

And he thought he must be helping, as much as he could think anything else, because surely he couldn't be feeling this much pain and not be doing anything to help. The pain was endless and agonizing and he couldn't see through it as his knees finally buckled, but his hand stayed glued to Mr. Stark's.

'Let me take it. Let me save him. Let me save him. Please. Let me help.'

He had never really put a name to his relationship with Mr. Stark, but mentor was good enough, and he couldn't lose that. Not now…not after he'd been gone for five years and not after Mr. Stark had held him like that!

'Let me save him! Please! Let me save him!'

He was vaguely aware of Mr. Stark dropping to his knees beside him, clutching his hand and gasping out words.

"Kid…kid…Peter…"

The world was so quiet, but Peter didn't know if that was because everyone actually was being quiet or if it was because he just couldn't hear through the throbbing. Behind his eyelids he could still see the rainbows bursting across his vision, dancing like the ones made by the suncatcher he'd painted for May back when he'd been in 2nd grade. She'd hung it in the kitchen window, and it was like he could see it now, rainbows dancing across a linoleum floor.

"Please…Peter…Peter…"

The voice was raspy and weak and desperate, the hand that was glued to his squeezing harder.

Another person came close. A woman. "Tony…" she was crying and he didn't know why…he only knew the pain that seemed to be fading and the rainbows on his kitchen floor. "You're okay…you're okay…"

Another voice. "He wasn't supposed to…" The voices were fading. "I didn't see…" Then, "I'm sorry…"

"No! Peter! Peter!" That person was begging and he remembered with a start that it was Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark who had sat on his bed that first day…who'd been the first person he'd said those words too. 'If bad things happen and I don't even try to stop it…then the bad things happen because of me.' And Mr. Stark had looked at him like he'd understood, nodding to himself and dropping his eyes, and Peter had seen the weight there…a weight that sat on a normal human man's shoulders.

A weight that was on his shoulders too.

Now that man was squeezing the hand that wouldn't let go until Peter told it to and touching his cheek with a shaking hand like he had on the battlefield. He was begging, heartbroken and weak as he called his name over and over. And Peter didn't think he could say no to Mr. Stark when he begged like that. So he left the rainbows behind and twitched his hand in Mr. Stark's.

"Peter. Come on…open your eyes. Please. Please. Peter…kiddo…please."

So Peter fought against the exhaustion that sat on him like a weighted blanket and pried his eyes open, glad for the clouds that covered the sky and the plumes of smoke that blocked out even more light, because even the little light there was hurt. Mr. Stark looked like he felt, with dirt and blood streaking his face. The hand on his face looked burnt, and there were burn marks on his face too, but he was sitting up, only swaying a little as Pepper held onto one of his shoulders.

"Peter…Peter…" It seemed to be the only word the man was capable of saying, and he repeated it like a prayer.

Peter's mouth tasted like copper and when he opened it, a warm liquid spilled down the corner of his lips and down his cheek. "Mist…mister…" He coughed and Mr. Stark tugged on the hand he was holding, trying to pull away. Somehow he'd forgotten that he was stuck to him and released his hand, only for Mr. Stark to slip an arm under his back, sitting him up slowly and resting Peter's head against his chest. Holding him. "Mister…Stark…"

"Yeah. Right here. You're okay. You're alright." He'd said those same words on Titan, and Peter didn't know if they were any more true now than they were before. "Don't just sit there!" he snapped then, and for a second Peter was confused because he didn't think he could do anything else, but then he went on. "Help him, Strange!"

"He shouldn't even be alive. Neither of you should."

"Well he won't be for much longer if you don't help him!"

"Son? Peter?" a new voice asked, and, realizing he'd closed his eyes again, Peter forced them open. The man in front of him had a beard and a shield lay discarded beside him. When Peter met his eyes, he gave a weak smile. "Hey, Queens."

"Brooklyn." He gasped the word out, trying to smile back.

Steve Rogers took his wrist, and then a new person appeared. One Peter had met only once, which he partially blamed for his inability to remember his name as he seemed to snap to attention. "Alright, kid. Keep your eyes open, okay?" he urged, and Peter remembered that his made-up name was Falcon. "We need…Bruce! We need medical! Strange, can you get us somewhere…hell, anywhere?" Mr. Stark's arm was shaking as he tried to support him, and he wanted to sit up or move or do anything to help, but he felt like deadweight, the agonizing pain fading into an exhaustion he didn't know if he could fight for much longer.

"Come on, Pete, stay awake," Mr. Stark murmured, voice choked with what sounded like tears. "You just saved the Universe. Try to stay awake for the celebration, huh?"

"You…you saved…"

"Well, you saved me so it counts. Please…Pete…I've got so much…so much to tell you…" He felt Mr. Stark rest his forehead against the top of his head, warm tears running from the man's face to his hair. "Please, buddy. Please. I finally got you back. Please don't leave again."

"Okay," he murmured, nodding a little, and Mr. Stark gave an incredulous little laugh. "I'll try."

"Good. That's all I can ask."

Someone put an arm behind his back, easing him away from Mr. Stark. "Tony…let me take him. We're going to get him some help."

For a second, Peter thought Mr. Stark might resist, but the voice went on.

"I'll carry him. We need to get you help too. Strange is getting the sanctum ready. Come on…Sam, help him up?"

Peter felt himself lifted into the arms of the man who'd once given him a black eye by slamming his shield into his face. He could feel himself slipping into sleep, but at least two people had asked him to stay awake, so he fought it the only way he knew how. "How…you been?" he asked, going for conversational, and the man carrying him chuckled.

"Not too bad. The last five years have been rough, but things are finally looking up thanks to you and Tony."

"I don't know why I did that," he admitted, watching the world pass by over Steve's shoulder. "I…I didn't know it would work."

"You've got good instincts, Queens" Steve told him, a smile in his voice, and the hand on his arm squeezed a little. "We're going to get you and Tony some help, okay?"

Tony. Mr. Stark. "He okay?" Peter asked, fighting to keep his eyes from closing again, and he felt Steve nod.

"He will be, thanks to you. So will you. Just stay awake for me, okay?"

Peter hummed in agreement as they stepped through a glowing circle, blinking tiredly at the ceiling of a building he didn't recognize. The world was a blur from there as he fought to stay awake…Steve put him down and someone was pulling his suit off, but he didn't have the energy to care. Something poked him in the arm, a sharp sting and then warmth rushed through his veins, and then…a mask on his face. Not his mask…oxygen. And a blanket pulled over him.

Then, despite his best efforts, he was asleep.

Peter dreamed of rainbows on his kitchen floor and Iron Man, holding up a gauntlet with rainbow stones. He dreamed of a man sitting on his bed, dropping a hand on his shoulder. Then he dreamed of Ben, and that was his favorite. He'd missed Ben so much…why? Why had he missed his uncle when the man was holding him, a hand on his hair, rocking him back and forth and squeezing tightly in arms that always made him feel safe.

"Peter…oh Peter…"

"Ben…I missed you."

"I know, buddy. I know." His uncle pulled away, hands on his shoulders as he smiled down at him, one hand coming up to cup his cheek, and that gesture reminded him of something…of someone. "I love you so much, Peter. You did so good."

Peter shook his head. "No…Ben…I let you die. I didn't stop it!"

"You didn't let me die, buddy. There was nothing you could have done."

"But I have these powers! And…"

"I know. You do everything you can to protect other people and I'm so proud of you…so, so proud. You're an Avenger, Pete! You're incredible! You just saved the whole universe!"

"No…" That wasn't right…he was standing in the kitchen with Ben, rainbows reflected on all the surfaces around them from the suncatcher he'd painted for May, but something wasn't right. He hadn't saved the universe…it hadn't been him. "No, it was…Mr. Stark?"

"What, buddy?"

"Mr. Stark," he said louder, his mouth feeling strange as he tried to get the words out. "He saved…"

"But you saved him," Ben reminded him gently, eyes drinking him in like a man dying of thirst. "I missed you so much…oh kiddo…I love you. You're doing so good. I'm so proud of you," he murmured, pulling him in for another hug, and it felt so real, only someone was holding his hand and that felt even more real.

"Ben?" he asked, squeezing the hand just a little, and his uncle was still holding him but he brought a hand up to his cheek, a thumb brushing across his face. "Ben?"

"Pete, listen, okay?"

He nodded. He'd missed Ben so much and he'd listen to anything he had to say as long as he stayed! "Okay…"

"I love you so much. You were like my son and I'm so proud of you. But he's going to look after you now."

"What?"

"Tony. He's got you now."

"Peter?" a voice asked from somewhere far away, and Peter shook his head. It didn't make sense…why wouldn't his uncle look after him.

"Ben?"

"It's Tony, kiddo. Can you hear me?"

The kitchen faded away, Ben with it, and he turned in a circle, trying to find the source of the voice he knew so well…he'd known it since he was a child. Since he had said those words on TV during a press conference he'd rewatched on Youtube a thousand times. "I am Iron Man."

The rainbows…the stones…Thanos…

Peter's eyes shot open and he gasped, jerking awake all at once, and Mr. Stark came into focus immediately, hovering over him, one hand resting on his shoulder. "Hey…hey, buddy…it's okay. You're okay."

He stared at Mr. Stark for a minute, trying to make it make sense. Because it was Mr. Stark…only there were burns on his neck and the right side of his face, and his beard was different than he remembered…lighter. "Your hair…it's different. There's…there's gray stuff…"

The man's eyes narrowed in confusion, and then he laughed a little. "Yeah. That's gray hair, Pete."

Gray hair. Five years. He'd been gone for five years? He'd been in that battle and he'd seen the gauntlet on Mr. Stark's right arm, which was in a sling at the moment, wrapped in bandages. He looked down at his own arm, which was also wrapped in bandages…Mr. Stark was holding his left shoulder. His right arm was wrapped up and it ached but…why? "What happened?" he asked, looking around the unfamiliar room. "Where are we?"

"We're at Strange's place. The Sanctum. Bruce Banner has been looking after us. Strange, too, and some other sorcerers. Something about magical contamination or…something. I don't really understand that part."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Pete."

"Your arm…"

"Yeah, well…I might get to use it again someday. Who knows." He said with a shocking amount of nonchalance. Then he hesitated, looking Peter in the eye with an expression Peter didn't recognize…not from him. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Yeah…I think so…yeah. You had the gauntlet." Peter nodded a little, trying to remember the details. "And I…I was…" he hesitated, not sure how to explain it. "I wanted to help."

"Even Strange didn't see that coming. You grabbed my hand right when I was using the gauntlet. Apparently the stones would have killed me if I'd done it on my own. But you…" he sniffed, looking away for a second. "According to Strange, you took a lot of the impact. I thought you were going to die. It was looking bad there for a few days. You got some kind of infection…Jesus, Pete…I finally got you back. You can't do stuff like this."

"I had to save you," he told him softly, and Mr. Stark gave him a sad smile, brushing his hair back and nodding. He looked like he wanted to argue…in the end though, he just nodded.

"Well, you did. You saved me. Thank you." He left his hand on Peter's hair, looking at him like Ben had.

"Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, for the most part. The Avengers have all been hanging around…wanted to make sure you were okay. Your aunt's here. She was gone too. And your friends Ned and MJ…I got ahold of both of them. They've been gone. But they're all back now."

"Is the compound gone?"

"It is. Small price to pay to save the Universe."

"But where will you live?"

Mr. Stark gave him another one of those soft smiles. "I moved out of the city a while ago. I've got a house on a lake. Me and Pepper…we got married." He hesitated then. "You, uh…you've got a room there. I mean, officially it's a guest room. But it was always supposed to be for you." Peter's eyes went wide. "That's…God, kid. I know I'm dumping a lot on you here and you just woke up and…I thought you weren't going to wake up again, you know? So I've already told you all this while you were asleep but…I think I'll give it another shot if you don't mind, huh?"

Dumbly, Peter nodded, and Mr. Stark's eyes filled despite his smile.

"You…you were one of the best things to ever happen to me and I was too damn scared to ever let you in. And that's all I could think about, you know? When I made it back to Earth after that shit on Titan and losing you…I had to get you back. I worked for months trying to figure out how to get you back. Because I had to tell you…I never told you how much I loved you and how important you were to me, and all I could think about was watching you turn to dust without ever knowing…knowing that I loved you so much. You were like my kid…like my son. I'm so sorry, Pete. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you all this before. I'm sorry I was too much of a goddamn coward to just…just let you in."

Peter stared at him for a long time. It should have felt monumental…hadn't he always wanted Mr. Stark to care about him? Hadn't he always longed for this kind of acknowledgement. But, he realized, he'd already known. Mr. Stark had never said the words…but he'd shown Peter how much he cared in his own way. So as nice as it was to hear it, it was like hearing May tell him that she loved him. It always made him happy to hear it said aloud…but it wasn't exactly a revelation. He'd already known.

"I dreamed about my uncle Ben."

Mr. Stark's brow furrowed. "Yeah?" he asked, gentle.

"He…he told me that you were going to look after me now. Since he couldn't. But he said…he said 'Tony's got you now.'"

Mr. Stark bit down hard on his lower lip, nodding and taking Peter's left hand with his own. "I do," he told him softly, still nodding. "I've got you, Pete. Always. Hell, me and May can co-parent."

Peter had to laugh at that, and Mr. Stark did too.

"Mr. Stark?" He waited, and Peter made himself say the words, but he couldn't help dropping his eyes shyly. They'd never talked like this, and he was still so tired, but he wanted to have this conversation before he slipped back into sleep. "I knew that you loved me. I mean…you never said it, but I knew. And I love you too."

The man smiled then, a smile that Peter had never seen as he leaned forward, pulling Peter into his arms as gently as he could, and it didn't feel just like Ben, but it still felt safe. "Good," he whispered. "I'm so glad."

After that, Peter fell asleep once more, not waking until he heard another familiar voice and opened his eyes to find May at his side, tears on her cheeks as she leaned in and held him. He lifted his arm as best he could, squeezing her in a tight hug. "Hey, May."

"Hi, baby," she choked out in a watery voice.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she promised, kissing his forehead and looking down at him with so much love it made his chest ache. "How do you feel?"

"I'm okay."

"Good…good. God, Peter…I thought…" She shook her head, wiping a hand over her face. "But you're okay now."

"We were gone for five years."

May nodded. "I know."

"That's really weird."

She huffed out a laugh, stroking his cheek and wiping her tears away again with her other hand. "It really is."

Someone else had laughed though, and he turned to find Mr. Stark sitting in a comfortable looking chair, tablet in hand, looking a lot better. As soon as he spotted him, Mr. Stark put the tablet down.

"Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?"

"Better, I think?"

"Good. Strange wants to look you over…him and Bruce. They want to clear you to get out of here." He stood and moved gingerly to sit in the folding chair next to Peter's bed instead.

"How long have I been here?"

"About a week. Nine days?" He glanced at May as if confirming, and she nodded.

"Yeah. Happy picked me up. I opened my eyes and all of sudden these other people were in our apartment…" She scoffed, shaking her head.

"Wait…our apartment…"

"Don't worry, Pete. I made sure to save all of your stuff. I was thinking you and May could stay at my place for a while…just until things settle down in the city."

"What about…school…and…"

"Hey, don't worry about any of that just yet," May urged softly. "We can figure all of that out later. You just saved the universe, okay? You deserve to rest for a while."

"Mr. Stark saved the universe," he reminded her.

"And you saved me," Mr. Stark put in. "So it counts. She's right. You're on bedrest for a while. And technically so am I…"

"You aren't in a bed," Peter reminded him, and a smile tugged at the man's mouth.

"Yeah, well, don't tell Pepper." He hesitated. "Also…speaking of Pepper and my house…there's someone I wanted you to meet."

"Oh…yeah?"

"Yeah." Mr. Stark smiled then, patting his shoulder, his whole face so soft. "But there's plenty of time for that later. For now, how about we get Strange to look you over and take you back home so you can rest there? And I'll catch you up on the way."

Peter apparently didn't have a home anymore. Someone else lived in their apartment…because they'd been gone. For five years. But he had a room at Mr. Stark's house by the lake even though he'd been gone. So…so they would find a new home. And it would be okay. Because Mr. Stark was going to take care of him, just like he had before.

"Yeah…that sounds great."