madeupnames | Open RP Post | Endgame Spoilers OK.

[It starts small. One day Karen doesn't respond to a question, but she seems to be fine once it's repeated. Then it happens again, but this time she responds with something unrelated. Eventually it happens more and more until one day she just stops responding. Digging into her code doesn't seem to make a difference, although it does seem to indicate there's an awful lot of processing power being dedicated to something. One last update perhaps? With her creator gone there's no one else who could provide answers. Luckily the suit still seems to respond to commands even if there's no longer a helpful voice talking him through everything.

Months pass, enough so that while Peter might still miss Karen, he's gotten used to swinging around without her. And it's while he's making a particularly impressive flip in the air that there's a familiar voice in his ear. Spoilers: it's not Karen.]

Wow, kid. How do you not get sick doing this?

[Yeah, to say he wasn't freaking out a little bit would be a boldfaced lie. More than that, he was freaking out monumentally by the time Karen's voice had dulled down to the occasional jagged remark, a sound like batteries dying in a child's play toy. To which Peter rushed to what was left of the Stark Internship center Happy still oversaw, by-passing everyone to throw his suit on a table and work feverishly to try and keep Karen.

When did it happen? Did he fry her systems at some point? He was pretty sure she was satellite-based, but maybe Mr. Stark had her hardwired into the coding...? He spends too many days on her with little sleep (May's not happy about it, but she can't understand how important this is to him, this is all he has left other than memories, this is Tony's work that he has to preserve-)

Anyway, he's tiredly patrolling when he hears what he's assuming is a phantom ghost. Okay, okay, it can't be a phantom ghost. He's just having a stroke. Yeah, that's more likely. Staggering atop a tall building, Spider-Man freezes with his hands held at his sides uselessly.]

I —

Puh... Pardon me?

[Manners.

Even to the Stark-sounding voice that is clearly caused by an aneurysm that's about to kill him at a tragically young age.]

[Peter's having a stroke and the disembodied voice doesn't even seem to acknowledge it.]

I'm used to handling a few G's... or was I suppose, but seeing you swing makes me glad I don't have a stomach.

[Tony had done more than leave a recording before setting out for that last battle, but the processing power required to upload his brain scans was beyond even his considerable resources which is why he had it set up to run in the background until it completed. How he managed to supplant the other AI he had in SI's servers he still has no idea, but it probably the reason why he was stuck with his very limited access to just Peter's suit.

He takes control of the lenses in the suit and projects an image of himself through it to show himself waving at Peter. He looks exactly like he did back then minus all the injuries and dirt he accumulated by the time Peter joined the fight.]

Hey kid, you miss me?

[The Tony on the screen then turns his attention to other holographic panels he has open as he flicks through the internet catching up on everything he's missed. None of it's necessary, considering he's just a stream of complex code now, but he likes the visual representation of it.]

[....

Peter rips off the mask and throws it across the rooftop.

Really, he's not sure why it's the first primal instinct, but — it's too much to handle all in one stunning moment, and he reacts with the same shock of someone kicking off a creature that had bit them. That's not Tony Stark. Tony Stark was buried, he's dead, and Peter had been to his funeral. He's not sure how he ends up sitting on his butt, hands on either side of him, eyes wide and almost fearful as the projection returns and recalibrates so that it can be shown through a rumpled mask on the floor.

The ghost of Tony Stark. Binary thrown together into a person-shaped hologram.

His mouth goes dry, and he's not sure how to even feel anything yet.

As he rambles with strained misery, his words gain a little heat.]

Who — who are you?

This isn't funny. This is wrong — why're you doing this?

[ They go after Thanos.

Because of course they do. Of course they would.

Two days after the snap, as Peter is pushing the Benatar to its limits, trying to get to the closest jump-point to take them to the area the kid had tracked Thanos to. And in that day, the kid's optimism is a little contagious. Maybe they can bring everyone back. Maybe they can wrestle the glove from Grape Ape's hand and use its power for their own wish, to undo all the damage Thanos had wrought.

Maybe this will work.

Or maybe Peter is just more concussed than he likes to admit.

A huge energy spike sets off the ship's sensors, and the alarms start screeching, Holy shit, what the fuck was that, turn the fuck around, that was scary. Only, you know. More politely.

"He used it again," is the only conclusion Peter can draw.

Which... can't be good. It instantly sets Peter's imagination into overdrive. Maybe Thanos used the stones for something mundane, like making himself some sprawling castle with five movie theaters, a giant infinity pool, and two basketball courts. Or maybe it was more sinister than that; maybe the guy created himself a new army or a new super-weapon (though why he would need anything stronger than all six Infinity Stones is anyone's guess). Or maybe it was nothing. Maybe he just accidentally sat on the gauntlet and set it off.

The two of them rendezvous with Earth's Mightiest Heroes and coordinate a new plan – not too dissimilar to what they had planned on Titan. Restrain the guy. Pull off the glove. Success.

When they put the plan into motion, when they pry it off his fat fingers, they don't expect the Infinity Stones to be gone. Destroyed.

Thor cuts off the guy's head.

Almost five years later, and Peter has thrown himself into work, takes whatever jobs the Avengers or Danvers tosses at him, takes the Benatar out into space or around the Earth to help where he can. Stopping highway robbers (intergalactic or otherwise), assisting in relief efforts, tracking down wayward shipments of food and medicine. Sometimes, one of the Avengers tags along. Sometimes, it's just him. And sometimes, he runs himself ragged taking on as much as he can.

But, hey, whatever it takes to keep him moving, right? Whatever it takes to keep him from sinking into the muck. Whatever it takes to keep his mind off of how quiet and empty his ship is.

He's touched down on Earth again for the first time in a couple months, situating the Benatar in the open space at the Avengers Compound. The landing feet extend, and the ship bobs lightly as it properly comes to a rest.

When he steps out, he's hardly surprised that the kid is the first one to come running out to greet him. Peter, of course, greets him in his usual way.

By getting him into a quick headlock. ]

Hey, Spider-Man.

[Gosh, it's rough, huh?

Peter's mostly been dealing with New York, sure, but New York's... real big. And even with 50% of it gone, there's plenty of problems the other 50% has left in the snap's wake. Infrastructure's super messed up, kids are displaced all over, and it takes them a really long time just to sort out the dead. 'Cus a lot of people died from the snap... and then even more died from the effects of it. A bus full of people without a driver, for example. God, Peter's never really hated someone before — not like this — but he... really... really hates Thanos.

There's other stuff, too. Like finding Pepper and Happy, and knowing that Mr. Stark's gone just as his to-be-wife had gotten pregnant. Morgan Stark was born, and she didn't have a dad to hold her, so Peter stepped in and did his best to be some kinda' brother. He does try, too. He tries really hard. But you know, when you lose so many people... when you find yourself an orphan twice or three-times over (who's counting? he is), you cling to whoever's left.

So he clings to the Avengers, and to the Stark-Potts family, and to Big Pete.

And things have a routine, which is maybe the most important thing to have. He's 22-years-old now — a kid still to everyone, much to his displeasure. And he runs a huge branch of the labs, because... because what else is he gonna do, when he's not playing Spider-Man? Stark Industries still has to do things, right? Pepper seemed to put a lot of faith in him, that he could to great things in Tony's stead.

But today, he can shed the lab coat and be his usual self, huh? Not be 'Mr. Parker' or 'sir' to the interns who are almost the same age as him or older. He grins and bounces on his feet, wriggling his way out of the headlock for a light elbow to the man's ribs. It's been too long, and even with how tired they all are, like, all the time, it's hard not to feel energized when you see someone who's been away.]

Hey, Star Lord.

You run into any cool asteroids out there?

Maybe an alien that actually looks like the big-headed green ones?

[Peter may be legal to drink, but he's still a dweeb.]

Only a couple. And they tried to eat me, so it wasn't the greatest experience.

[ —this may or may not be a joke.

The Earth hasn't been the only place hit hard by Thanos' plan. Some other places are even worse, having barely been stable to begin with. There are more than a few roving bands who had gone a little... nuts.

But, hey. Here's Peter, neither eaten nor kidnapped, so that's something.

In five years' time, he's upgraded some of his gear. His old red jacket has been retired and given it a place of honor on the back of one of the Benatar's jump seats. (He never could get over the sensation that there was dust in every crevice, in every seam, stuck to his cuffs or to the jacket's lining.) And along with his upgraded guns, Gamora's sword has been almost permanently holstered at his back. He's learned to use it, in the intervening years, though he'll never be as good as Gamora was.

(He misses her. He misses all of the Guardians. And in quieter moments, the loss is fucking suffocating.)

He ruffles the kid's hair as he heads toward the compound, dredging up a smile in spite of how rundown he is. ]

Things been okay here? Anyone trip into a radioactive vat at your lab yet?

Not yet, no, but now I'm kinda worried there's a radioactive vat somewhere I don't know about.

[But he turns and starts toward the compound as well, ignoring the murky sky beyond them — you just kinda get used to it, and all that. He honestly hates to imagine what other places are like... other planets that have way, way more people than Earth. Everyone here's busy with something or another, though: physical therapy and rehab with regards to robotic prostheses, internships for high school and college kids who are having a hard time, and all sorts of trial runs for new and improved global security with the remains of Tony Stark's work. Peter doesn't oversee all of it, of course — he's barely managing the small lab he mans right now, anyway — but he does see... good things happening all around them.

The remains of the Avengers do a lot of the global security stuff, too, especially when it comes to Wakanda and New Asgard. Peter lets them do the thing they're all so good at, and he tries to do his own — keeping the kids who had been his age at the snap occupied gives some momentary kinda peace. But he's... a little restless. He always gets restless. It never feels like enough.

Probably a feeling everyone shares, at this point.]

Things've been... alright. We've been doing a lot of clean-up, recycling a lot of computers and tech that've been left... I was actually gonna ask if you think a ship made outta old cars would be cool. That'd be kinda nifty, right? And we'd have less debris all over the city, so...

[That's him, Mr. Cleaner-Upper.

... Even Lil' Pete has surrendered to the idea that nothing's going to be unwritten, at this point.]

I don't see why it wouldn't be cool.

[ This, as he's stepping into the building proper. He's starving, and while he has food aboard the Benatar, he'd kill for something that isn't freeze-dried or dispensed from a foil pouch.

... His priority should probably be to report in to Romanoff, but by now, he's pretty sure she's got a good idea on how he operates. She won't forgive him for the lapse, but she'll get it, probably. ]

Plus, you guys can have a spare ship, and I don't have to keep chauffeuring you guys all over the galaxy.

[ "You guys," because Peter doesn't number himself among the Avengers. He has his own team.

... had his own team. ]

Hey. You can't totally hate chauffeuring us around the galaxy.

You get to flex on people, don't you?

[Sorry Quill, did you want to know what new-age slang there is? No? Too bad.

He seems to read the guy's mind a little, though, eyes studying him until-]

If you wanna sneak by Nat, we could always make a beeline for the kitchen.

There's always beer there. I mean, I don't drink, but... [Seems to settle the nerves of some of their rowdy team. And even the less rowdy ones.] Oh — and cookies. Lots of misshapen, horrible cookies. Morgan and Pep are visiting for a few days, sooooo...

[The kitchen was a shitshow, for lack of a better term.]

Edited 2019-05-09 19:43 (UTC)

[ A beat.

Then, ]

I get to what?

[ But, no, okay, slightly more important things, like the offer to help Peter smuggle himself into the kitchen.

Those his expression sobers a little at the mention of Pepper and Morgan, lips pressing together into a line. ]

They're not in there now, are they?

[ As casually as he can manage, but there's still a touch of trepidation. Not because Peter dislikes Pepper and Morgan – quite the opposite, obviously – but he always felt uneasy around them. Felt something bitter and cold twist in his chest while he tried to stay chipper around the kid.

(He wonders if it should've been Tony that lived instead of him, sometimes.

Peter is a survivor, above all else, but it was a cruel fucking joke of the universe to take Tony away from his family, just as it was starting, and to take Peter's family away from him.)

Then, a little more lightly, ]

And I guess more importantly, is there anything not on fire or covered in flour left?

[Peter gives the man a little look, eyebrow raising.]

You know, you're probably not allergic to the Starks. You could always just say 'hi'.

[Him being uneasy around them isn't lost on the man; he knows there's something going on there, something Quill's not really being open about, but it's not like they're all sharing-and-caring in the Avengers headquarters. Pete tries his best to get people to open up with him, but he knows he's kind of being a kettle next to a pot, 'cus there's too much he can't dare say aloud. Instead of pressing further, though, he lets the comment hang at that.]

Just us. I can't guarantee it'll just be us an hour from now, but everyone's out doing their usual stuff. I can't promise there isn't flour all over the counters, though, because I definitely... promised I'd clean it up and forgot. Like. An hour ago.

[ At that first comment, Peter doesn't do much more than cut the kid a quick, unimpressed look. Something that says, "Ha ha. Hilarious. So hilarious, I'm not going to respond."

Just as well that the kid doesn't press any further, and Peter breathes out a quick, humorless little laugh. ]

C'mon, then. You can try and put a dent in the mess while I make a sandwich or something.

[He laughs at that, shoving Quill's arm.]

Seriously, dude? You're gonna stuff your face while I'm the janitor?

If you leave anything out for me to mop up, I'm gonna go Grand Theft Auto on your ship.

[... He's not of course, but a little ribbing kind of makes things feel more normal. He doesn't have his best friend anymore to shake hands with, and he doesn't have Mr. Stark to make dumb jokes at. He has a feeling Quill kinda sees him in the same weird way — and honestly, he might feel for Quill the most. He doesn't have anyone else in that ship of his.

... As they walk into the kitchen, Peter groans at the powdery mess splashed all over the big counter island.]

Oooh, boy.

You get anywhere near my ship, and I'll punt you into the sun.

[ Obviously, there's about as much chance of that happening as there is of the kid actually stealing his ship, so— all's fair, Peter figures.

He feels guilty, sometimes, for falling back into that kind of banter. For treating the kid like a Guardian instead of a stranger. He has to remind himself that Pete isn't actually replacing anyone – no one could ever do that – but he wonders if it's unfair to the other Guardians' memory, in some weird way.

Those dark thoughts are chased away when the kitchen comes into view, thankfully. Peter lets out a low whistle, edging around a splatter of flour that had made it to the floor.

Is he helping? Of course not. And he carefully picks his way through the carnage to get at the bread. ]

You sure they were making cookies? Looks more like the Pillsbury Doughboy blew up in here.

[Aw, how'd you know he's always wanted a free trip to the sun? But he's too busy looking at this mess and shaking his head to throw that quip out into the void. There are definitely some suspiciously kid-sized hand prints everywhere. And he has to imagine that Pepper was just smiling the whole time, knowing he'd agreed to clean-up for them. That monster.]

I think they left a big tub in the cabinet for anyone who wants 'em.

... So I guess the question is, how dangerous would it be for us to steal them for ourselves, and are they poisoned by a five-year-old?

Definitely poisoned.

[ In that automatic, mild, and altogether knowing way one uses when reciting a fact. "Water is wet. Fire is hot. Morgan definitely dipped those cookies in arsenic, that scoundrel."

It seems peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are a dietary staple for anyone filling in as an Avenger, temporary or otherwise, and Peter is preparing his own. Heavy on the peanut butter, and equally heavy on the jelly. Don't judge him. He's had a long, rough day. ]

But you've got an insane metabolism or whatever. You could probably scarf down half of them, puke it up after ten minutes, and be totally fine.

[He looks up, mildly offended (but only mildly, because he wants a PB&J too, okay.]

I have an insane metabolism, I'm not impervious to poison.

[His eyes brighten slightly, and he's Thinking.]

... I mean, I don't think I am...

[Peter Parker do not touch poison I swear to God—]

You never tried?

[ In that mild, distracted way that says this is definitely a hypothetical question. Of course. Obviously.

Sandwich successfully constructed, he turns to lean back against the counter and takes a bite.

Around the mouthful, ]

I mean, you've been smacked around by dudes using steel beams like you were a baseball, but you've never tried your luck with eggs a few weeks beyond their expiration date?

... I spent most of my life avoiding eating things that kill me...

May absolutely would've killed me first, but you know what I mean.

[A pause. There are plenty of people here who avoid talking about the people they've lost... but Peter's not one of those people. He knows better, to let someone's memory completely vanish because of his own pain. So when he talks, it's without hesitancy.]

I've gotten the flu before, though? As in, I spent days in bed with a raging fever wondering if spiders get the flu, too. I'm pretty sure May was five seconds away from calling 911 on me — I mean, until I begged her not to, because my powers were short-circuiting and everything was sticking to me...

[.................. He clears his throat.]

It was a bad time.

[ His chewing slows briefly, not because he's necessarily uncomfortable talking about the people they've lost, but because he's gotten into the habit of watching when people do. Of deciding whether or not he should try to change the topic, if he should try to distract them as the other person wanders toward some unseen ledge.

The kid handles it better than most, from what Peter's seen, and when he seems to find his own way to stable ground, Peter swallows down his food. ]

Was that pretty soon after you got the superpowers?

Oh, I've gotten sick a few times since I got superpowers, yeah.

... I'm pretty sure we're not counting the time a bio-weapon leaked on me and made me puke for a week straight, right? Because that's totally not the flu. Mr. Stark had to decontaminate me and do all kinds of stuff to make sure I didn't keel over.

[Sometimes he forgets how crazy life is, to anyone but them. This is all... It's just life. That's kind of the nice thing about having friends at Avengers HQ now, y'know? People understand. You're not a kid in high school having to shut your mouth over being on a crashing plane on Coney Island. Or make some big excuse to your classmates to go sight someone trying to poison the water supplies in the sewer system.

... Or distract them when you need to jump out of a moving school bus to fight aliens.

His smile twitches, smoothing into something... unsure.]

... Hey. So. Um.

There was something I wanted to tell you. It's not — not concrete, or anything, but... [He breathes out fidgeting with a washcloth that he slaps up and down against the edge of the counter.] Uuh. There's this guy... Ant-Man. Scott Lang? You haven't met him, because up until a few days ago he'd been stuck in another realm. The Quantum Realm.

He might've given us an idea for something. Maybe. It's a long-shot and it's not even gonna be a finalized thing for a while, and to be honest there's no way I'm gonna be able to figure it out the same speed as someone like Tony Stark, but I have his old data and Dr. Banner and I think, I don't know, maybe...

[He trails off in his fast-worded ramble, not even sure how to approach this topic.

Maybe he shouldn't have brought it up, not until they knew for sure, but.]

[ You know, Peter has absolutely no idea how to respond to any of that shit – the nuclear waste spill or whatever the hell the kid is talking about – so Peter just. Sort of stares, in that sort of blank-faced, startled way one might use when someone else has sprouted a second head.

He shakes it off as the kid's smile falls away, watching him warily as he takes another bite of his sandwich. That's the look of someone who's about to tell you they killed all your plants while they were house-sitting.

Aaand he's starting to see why, once the kid sets into it, spitting out the words in rapid-fire succession – quick enough that Peter isn't entirely sure what it is the kid is trying to say.

Even so, it makes something cold constrict in his gut, even as something brittle and light starts to worm its way into his chest. ]

Spell it out, Parker.

"Maybe" what, exactly?

[Peter sighs through his nose, as he leans on the counter.

This is crazy stuff. Tony should be the one handling it, should be the one standing here — not him. A couple of years throwing himself into research and studies will never make him a Stark. But... If Bruce is here... If he's got people to back him and help him out, it's gotta be worth something. And hell, he knows it'll be worth a lot to Peter Quill, who has had to make do with people who aren't his family.]

You know that really old movie, Back to the Future?

... What if we make our very own DeLorean? Only not a car or — uh, anything that bad ass to look at, but... What if we could go back? Far enough that we can take the stones from the past... and use it to fix our future?

To bring people back. The people who got dusted.

[Tony Stark. Doctor Strange. May and Ned. Clint's family.

The Guardians.]

[ Peter is silent for a long, drawn out moment.

He's regretting eating, because what little food he's eaten sits like a lead weight in his stomach. He sets the sandwich aside, brushing the crumbs from his hands with far more care than strictly necessary. ]

You know that for sure?

[ He asks it slowly, voice deliberately flat. ]

Is this all just a nice fantasy, or is it really something you think you can do?

... I know for sure that we can at the very least collect the stones ourselves.

Once we have them, um. That part's a little wobbly, but...

[He quiets for a moment, absently drawing in the flour on the nearby cutting board. The childish cookie cutters littering the counter only reminds him that he's here and Mr. Stark isn't, honestly, and that's... that's not fair to Morgan. And it's not fair that Quill's flying around all alone, lacking something you can't just replace. And sure, sometimes life is unfair and has to stay that way — like how he lost Ben, all those years ago — but... what if it didn't have to be unfair?]

... It'd be worth a try, right?

[Besides, there's one thing he figured out in his labs that the Starks didn't:

How to replicate the Pym Particles Scott brought in.

So... Maybe Peter has a few additional ideas that he'll keep to himself.]

[ Peter stays quiet, staring at the kid without quite seeing.

There's this bad habit Peter has, he thinks, that the Ravagers had tried their damnedest to stomp out of him. They wanted him jaded, worldly, and cynical as fuck – mostly because that's what it took to survive in the dark fringes of the galaxy, where they operated. But they got to him too late, because by then, at eight years old, he had already been raised on fairy tales and stories about good guys vanquishing evil guys, where movies always ended on a happy note, with everything wrapped up in a neat bow.

The bad habit that Peter has is that in spite of everything, he always hangs on to that little flicker of hope, even if he knows he'll be disappointed.

It's why at length he slowly, reluctantly nods. A part of him wants to be doubtful, wants to dig in his heels and remind the kid how impossible that sounds, but, well. Five years ago he would've thought that one dude snapping his fingers and wiping out half the universe was impossible, too, and he would've been wrong. ]

It's worth a try. Yeah.

[ He repeats it back quietly, voice a little rougher than he wants it to be. He clears his throat, shakes his head a little. Then, ]

So we go back in time. Get the stones. Snap everyone back to life. Sounds easy enough.

[He gives a little nod, then raps his knuckle on the table.]

Good.

[And alright, fine — he couldn't help the grin that pulls at his face.]

... Dude, we're gonna Back to the Future this bitch.

[And y'know, the whole 'time heist' thing Scott's whipped up? Not half bad, Pete's gotta admit. He's up all hours of the night, that first week, running schematics and using as much information as Tony's got in his lab to figure up trials — plot courses, figure out where people can be without them getting trapped eternally in some hellish quantum world. Good stuff, Peter definitely grew a few gray hairs at age 22.

And then they're in it. Like, all-in, no hand rails, no folding your hand kinda in it. Suits are made. People are dispatched. Groups take aim and go for the stones... They lose Natasha. The kinda lose that can't be undone, like Ben, like Gamora. Just. Gone. And there's this horrible period of time where they mourn... only to realize there's little time to mourn. There's a reason Nat was willing to make that kind of play; there's too much at stake for all of them to lose. Natasha, she would have rather lost her own life than end up at the end of a story where they'd failed.

Little Pete stands beside — well, Big Pete, and he can't stop tapping his foot anxiously as they wait for Banner to put that glove on, one that Peter had to build out of bleeding technology he only just lately started to grasp fully. They're all there. Most of them, anyway, and — surely this has to go right. This has to be their shot at giving people back their friends, lovers, families.

Hell, he wouldn't even mind Flash Thompson reappearing in his life, at this point.

He glances at Big Pete, frowning a little but bumping him with his elbow.

His voice is low but full of hard-kept faith.]

This'll work. It's gonna work.

[ It's a mess.

Like, sure, it goes okay, but it's a mess.

He, at least, has the easy job of going after... himself. Back to Morag, in its torrential downpour and barely receded floods, just days before he met the others and formed his new family.

A part of him considered staying, considered replacing himself and going through his own life. How fucked would that have been? To kill himself and be himself, to relive four years of his own life, pretending to not know what he knows now but doing little things to change his future? Avoiding the mistakes with Ego, with Yondu, with the Sovereign. Taking his training with Gamora more seriously. Improving his gear and better equipping his ship with better weapons. Saving Gamora on Knowhere, when the time comes. Taking down Thanos on Titan with their team at full strength.

It'll be a different future from the one he's living in – that branching timeline that everyone seems so keen on avoiding – but it'd be so much fucking better.

He considers it. He honestly does. It's an ugly siren song, that temptation, and after he knocks his past self unconscious with the butt of his blaster, he stands over himself and thinks.

It's only his time-jump buddy that rouses him out of it, sets him back to work at unlocking the chamber doors where the Orb is sealed.

They all come back, minus Romanoff, and when Barton tells them what happened, Peter feels his heart break all over again. She can't be brought back, Barton tells them. He says she's gone for good, and Peter doesn't want to hear that. He wants to believe that they can bring Romanoff back, because if they can do that, they can bring Gamora back.

But Barton insists, and Peter nearly punches him in the mouth. Thankfully, Parker intercedes before they exchange blows.

Peter's mood isn't quite the same after that.

And here they are now, standing on the precipice of something. He has his arms crossed as he stares at the glove, at the stones glittering and glowing faintly on it.

(He was a god, once, what feels like lifetimes ago. He might still be now, in some ways. They shot down letting Thor use it, but Peter wonders – maybe his Celestial heritage might give him a shot at it. Maybe he could use the glove.

Maybe he could bring Gamora back.)

The kid nudges him, and Peter's gaze flits to him before refocusing on the glove. He nods, a little curtly, and for a second, he seems content to leave it at that.

But after a moment, he forces himself to relent. ]

Yeah. It'll work. [ Uncharacteristically gruff, but considering he has literally nothing left, it has to work. If it doesn't, then he's done, he thinks. No more moonlighting as an Avenger, no more haunting Earth because he's too afraid to leave and face his life in an empty ship. Back to space, back to his old life – or what he can scrounge up of it, anyway.

After a second, he clears his throat. Then, a little more gently, ]

You've done a good job. Stark would be proud.

[Peter thins his lips, looks back at Quill with a determined set to his brow.]

He will be proud. When he comes back with everyone else.

[That's what he can only hope for. They prepare to handle the blast — Peter employs the bleeding tech, and the iron spider suit forms over his body. Bruce puts on the glove, as they all take cover behind their respective abilities; Thor puts himself in front of the Peters, eager to be of use, because god if he hasn't lost too much himself.

This is going to work, Pete thinks. It has to. It devolves into concern when he sees the pain that pulls at the Hulk's face — and of course it hurts, it's dangerous, and they could lose more than just Natasha right now. Bruce snaps his fingers, and there's a blinding light and a burst of energy that nearly knocks them all backward off their feet and into the walls of the building.

Peter sucks in a breath he'd been holding, hand grasping around until he feels the leather sleeve of Quill's jacket in his temporary blindness; his sight returns, and Bruce is on the floor, groaning and smoking, his arm damaged.]

Bruce—! Oh, man...!

[He's moving to put a hand on his friend's good shoulder, Thor's hand on the green giant's forehead as he hushes him to be still. Bruce just looks to Quill, his injured look shifting into steadfast hope. "Did... did it work?"]

[ The move had been necessary and Jean wasn't about to be left in upstate Massachusetts. Her abilities were more under control than when she was younger and needed the distance. Plus, with more "powered" people around now... Jean didn't feel so nervous about being in a city.

She doesn't even remember when the idea happened. What possessed her to even consider it.

It took about a week to get the costume and mask together: green, yellow, and black. Boots, gloves. Wig cap to tuck her red hair under and a hood to cover it. There's no way she could let herself be recognizable (and her red hair is one of the most recognizable things about her).

And with the late hours her father worked at the university, she was able to go out and stop a few crimes. It had been a little messy at first, still getting used to using her powers around people in general, but she managed. A few times she even managed to leave the scene before the "web slinger" showed up.

She was a fan of his but she also felt a need to prove herself in the same city after she had had a few successful nights out. She could do just as much good as him. People were even starting to talk about her. Which was both a blessing and worry. How long would this go on before her father noticed? Not that she had time to think about it today.

School had just gotten out and she was already in her costume, stepping in the way of a high-speed chase. In the middle of the intersection, "Marvel Girl" held her hands out in front of her and not only stopped the car with the criminals in it but lifted it off the ground a good five feet. ]

[The men in the car don't seem to particularly like her involvement; Spider-Man can relate, because nobody seems to ever like when he's involved either. The guy hanging out the window of the floating car yells angrily, "Do you even know who we're working for, you-!" with a handgun emerging from the dark of the interior — one that is hit with a web that yoinks the gun right out of the man's hand.

Oh, hey! It's that web slinger guy, swinging in.]

C'mon, man, that's no way to pay the lady a bridge toll!

[Ah yes, nobody was exaggerating when they said he came in ready to joke. He lands sideways on the pole near Marvel Girl, squatting on the thin railing; she seems like she's got this handled mostly, and it'd probably be kinda rude to cramp her style by doing much else.]

You're the new superhero around town, huh? Cool costume, by the way, I like the color scheme.

Edited 2019-06-29 10:10 (UTC)

[ He had seen it. He knew it had been their only chance.

Didn't mean it made the passing any easier to bear. They hadn't gotten off on the best foot, he knows. In some ways, he and Stark were just too much alike. But he still admired the other man, still respected him for what good he had done (and what he had been willing to give up for the rest of them). He mourned the loss of a person like Tony Stark. Mourned the missed chance to really get to know him beyond their brief, stressed time together.

But he knew, just by the dust settling on the battlefield and the turnout for the funeral, that he wasn't even close to being the one to mourn him the most. He kept in touch with Pepper through text mostly, offering her his help if she ever needed it. Kept in touch with the remaining Avengers at the compound, sometimes visiting and even agreeing to train some.

But for the youngest member of the team, he kept a closer eye on him. Texting him at times but not really convinced by whatever response he got. Eventually, he decided a visit would probably be better.

Not that Peter expected for Doctor Strange to just portal his way onto the roof where Peter was. ]

You're a bad liar even through text, you know.

[The kid had been spending some of his after school time to brood — because you know, sometimes you just have to find a high building were nobody can see you and get caught up in all the things in your head. Sleeping less, feeling sad more, knowing work just makes you tired in a way that isn't exactly physical... it's all just part of the gig, right? It'll pass eventually, right? So he just sorta deals, and doesn't really tell Ned or May or any of the Avengers just what's going on with him.

Besides, he's supposed to be the peppy one with a skip in his step and a joke to be spoken (much to the exasperation of everyone else). Spider-Man doesn't have time to be miserable! Spider-Man's got a lot of ground to cover in NYC—

And Spider-Man — or, uh, Peter Parker, in this case — jumps at the sudden appearance of Wizard, M.D.]

Whoa!!

Can't you ring a bell or something before you jump out and give someone a heart attack?!

Open RP Post | Endgame Spoilers OK.

borrowing ai tony from the comics :V

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what up have an AU

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1/2

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△ marvel girl meets spider-man ▽

Re: △ marvel girl meets spider-man ▽

✩ post-endgame thing idk ★

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