Peter Stark was a very imaginative child.
He liked a lot of things most kids didn’t. For example, science. When he turned four he was already in his fathers lab—much to Tony’s dismay but amusement. Peter was also amazing with a pen, he loved to write and draw, bringing the unimaginable to life.
In the first book he wrote of a different world. His family in odd clothing and fighting villains. Peter liked to talk about superheroes to anyone who would listen for even a minute. Wether that be late at night to his parents, Tony and Pepper, or to the close family friends who always visited—Uncle Rhodey and Steve always seemed the most interested. And Natasha amused him enough.
They all remembered the first time Peter though of a world about superheroes and villains.
And Peter remembered the first time he dreamed of a world where nothing was perfect.
”Watcha’ doing kiddo?” Tony inquired, sitting criss cross next to his son on the floor. Peter, concentrated on his drawing, didn’t even look up. “I’m drawing Iron Man!”
”He looks an awful lot like me, doesn’t he?” Tony pointed out, tapping the drawing and resting his finger next to the heroes face.
”Yeah, because it is you!” Peter smiled up at his dad. “I've drawn everyone! You guys are superheroes, isn’t that cool? Imagine if you guys could actually fight villains! Like ‘boom,’ ” Peter imitated shooting an arrow similar to Hawkeye, “wouldn’t that be so cool?”
“Yeah, Pete, it would,” Tony tousled his sons hair. “Say, why don’t you bring your drawings downstairs and we can show Steve and Buck? The others will be here later and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind to hear some more about their super awesome counterparts.” It didn’t take much for Peter to agree, already collecting all his drawings and racing down the stairs. Tony just smiled, Peter was so excited for a world he could barely understand the meaning of. Childlike wonder, it’s truly something, isn’t it?
Peter was left to his thoughts a lot.
It wasn’t just dreams, childish drawings, or writing made up stories. No, it wasn’t that simple. If Peter wanted to he could envision the world around him. See the avenger’s tower in the distance and the people inside, making jokes as they sharpened weapons—or simply sat eating and joking around, waiting for battles to come.
He could imagine how it felt to touch Iron Man’s suit. Or the feel of Hawkeye’s bow. Or how Captain America’s shield weighed heavily in his hands.
Peter could imagine the fighting and pain that came with disagreements, hear the pain in their voices or see the mistrust in their eyes. But despite everyone seeming familiar they also seemed all too different in the clothes they wore and the powers they held.
A lot of people—mainly concerned workers and the media—thought Peter’s imagination goes too far.
Tony had brought up Peter’s dreams once in an interview.. and well, after the fallout.. the billionare didn’t mention it again. They thought ‘surely a kid couldn’t think of something this dark’ or ‘how is Stark truly raising his kid?’
Peter paid them no mind. Reporters and random people can't see what he sees, they won't understand. He's not crazy!
Plus, a perfect world isn’t where everyone lives and theres no consequences. While people may say it is, Peter knows it’s not.
The ideal world to him is one that is right.
Sure, there’s some faults. But everyone has their own development, their own ending that is right for them.
As Peter grows his imagination expands, his mind filled with complicated scientifical equations at the possibilities of other worlds.
Stories expand as well as his knowledge, his skill with a pen and paper admirable.
The world around him is never bleak as he rants to others—like Ned and MJ, or his family. He enjoys spilling his thoughts onto paper countless nights over, no matter how tiring it may be.
Though there’s something odd about his dreams..
Peter's never mentioned in them.
He can put name and face to others, but not him.
Until, of course, one night. Peter woke up with a smile and instantly he’d jumped out of bed and ran to his Dad’s lab, ignoring how late at night it must be—he had only one thing to talk about, Spider-Man.
He’d ranted to Tony for hours, his father watching in interest as Peter sketched designs for Spider-Man’s first suit, being simply goggles with some sweatpants and a hoodie.
But Tony quickly deemed it ‘unfit for a superhero counterpart of my son’ and took the pen himself, sketching new designs of a more intricately made suit.
Peter didn't mind. If anything he was happy his father was so invested in this other world and wanted to help him.
Plus, Iron Man helping Spider-Man is like, super cool!
The story came to him like a bird to water—Spider-Man meeting Mr. Stark and becoming his mentee. The Civil War incident, the ferry, the Vulture, of Flash and how he wasn’t really any different.. it all made sense! Even the gut wrenching feeling of losing May and Ben, even there
Guess Spider-Man can’t catch a break either.
Fate is a.. funny thing.
When Peter first drafted the story of ‘Homecoming’ he took the journal to his father, as he did every other story before that.
”Dad?” He pushed open the door to Tony’s lab, peaking his head inside. Tony was hunched over a project, but set down his tools and swiveled around in his seat. “Yeah Pete?”
”I finished my first Spider-Man story,” Peter grinned widely as he held out his notebook. “Wanna read?”
Tony carefully took the journal, opening it to the first page. “Y'know it kiddo! Why don’t we read it together? I can use a break from all this junk anyways.“ The billionare gestured at the blueprints behind him before standing up and walking to the couch. Sitting down together they began to read.
When they finished Tony snapped the journal shut, reaching over and tousling Peter’s hair. “You’re my Spidey now, huh?” Tony poked him playfully in the ribs and Peter couldn’t help but giggle as he pushed the offending hands away, “daddd!”
Shaking his head fondly Tony opened the book once again, skipping to a specific page—“this is a pretty impressive formula though, Pete! It looks like it could work actually..” his dad said more so in surprise as he studied the formula for Spider-Man’s webs.
“Why don’t we give it a go, eh? No harm in trying. Right?”
Peter quickly agreed, who was he to refuse? He’d challenged Tony three months ago to try and make Iron Man’s helmet—purely for fun—and Tony had readily agreed, interested himself. So it’s only right the two try to make something of Spider-Man’s.
They set to work.
And it wasn’t long, though with much trial and error, before Peter held up a test tube with an “aha!” and a wide grin. Tony had wrapped him in a bone crushing hug while the celebrated.
They’d made Spider-Man’s web fluid!
They quickly developed web-shooters too. Peter did small things, like drawing objects closer to him or attempting to stick to the ceiling. He’d fallen on his ass a few times, but hey, trial and error, right? Still though, it was a breakthrough for Peter and his work.
And suddenly Peter’s world of superheroes didn’t seem to stupid anymore.
People like Sam and Natasha became more interested, and even Bucky and Clint found themselves reading more of Peter’s work. Rhodey and Steve spent time studying designs of suits made for them and Steve jokingly saying it’d be cool to have a shield while looking over Peter’s web-shooters, to which Tony and Peter shared a very serious look—maybe a future project then.
It also didn’t seem so dumb when Tony Stark proudly held a complete Iron Man helmet in his hands with a triumphant look.
Peter kept writing.
All his life he was told to stop, that he was out of his mind by teachers or classmates. Peter didn’t let it stop him then and he won’t let it stop him now. No, not when he was slowly compiling all his stories together.
He remembered one night he’d dreamed of the story ‘Endgame,’ Peter remembered sitting it next to ‘Infinity War’ as tears gathered in the back of his eyes. He more clearly remembers going to the living room and falling into his dads embrace and staying there for a long time.
”Dad?”
“Yeah Pete?”
”I think Peter Parker deserves a better ending. They all do.”
”Yeah?” Tony said again, carefully. The billionare watched as his son stared down at his work with intensity, something brewing behind his eyes.
”Yeah.” Peter confirmed.
He thought about it for a long time.
Wrote for a long time.
”What’re you doing nerd?” MJ asked one day at lunch, having grown bored from pushing her food around her lunch tray and finally asking what Peter had been up to the whole time.
”I think he’s writing about that superhero stuff again,” Ned supplied helpfully.
”Really? Still?” MJ raised an eyebrow and Ned just shrugged.
”Yeah.” Peter said in the ensuing silence, “i’m making an ending.”
He let out a deep sigh and erased what he’d been writing, that wouldn’t work either—
“Maybe we could help?” MJ asked carefully after a while.
Peter looked up in surprise, “really?..”
Both his friends looked rather determined. “Yeah! I mean you talk about it all the time so we’re caught up for the most part! And plus it’s like super cool.” Ned smiled and MJ nodded along, seeming as interested as she could.
”Okay.” Peter said finally, “I’d like that,” he smiled at his friends and they smiled back.
The three scooted closer together and leaned over Peter's journal for the rest of lunch, ignoring the weird looks sent their way as they brainstormed quietly under their breaths—bouncing different ideas off of each other.
Soon they were sitting on the floor in Peter’s bedroom, wracking their brains for anything.
Ned yawned, “I’m kinda tired now.. how about we continue tomorrow?” Peter and MJ quickly agreed, also feeling beat—guess coming up with a good ending isn’t so easy after all.
Or, well, that’s what Peter thought.. until he woke up in the middle of the night with the story coming to him and easily as it always had—
In a dream.
To be forgotten..
Some would say it’s a curse, some would say it’s a blessing.
Peter Stark would say it’s an ending.
Peter Parker would call it the right thing to do. Is it the right thing to do? There's a lot of opinions a lot of different people could have, but Spider-Man’s heart was in the right place.
Peter stumbled to his desk tiredly, only giving his clock a glance to see it read 3:52 a.m. When his friends awoke later they’d see him sitting at his desk.
”Peter why are you already up, man?” Ned yawned, stretching as him and and MJ blearily stumbled with lingering drowsiness over to Peter’s desk.
“I’ve got it.” He said quietly, only loud enough for the two next to him to hear. His friends shared a look before reading over Peter’s notes.
”That's harsh.” MJ said when she'd finished reading.
Ned seemed solemn.
”Yeah.” Peter whispered. It was.. but it was so right at the same time. Weird how that works, isn't it?
Peter remembered a lot of late nights being frustrated over this other world—writing about superheroes, battles, wars, villains, friendships.. it all added up.
He remembers piling it all into one story and publishing it for the world to see.
Most importantly, he remembers the world becoming infatuated with a world that doesn’t exist—of superheroes and villains.. of people that are simply parallels.
Peter also remembers standing proudly with his father on a stage, the others who supported him also standing with him. They gave speeches and talked about their other selves, how they gave ideas for their characters and tried to fill in the blanks when they could. For that, Peter is grateful.
Endings..
To Peter and mostly everyone he knows, of everyone that’s read his story, the perfect world is not where everyone lives or everyone dies.
It’s one where everyone has an ending.
Maybe sad, yes, but in the end the character accomplished what they wanted, what they needed—they would rest in peace knowing their story was done and closed.
Maybe Peter Parker’s story wasn’t exact or squished into the forms of a ‘happy ending' ..but to Peter Stark it was perfect.
Spider-Man would make it on his own from here on out. And when he decided to, Peter Parker would end his own story. He’d pull off his mask and decide it's over.
And now, Peter Stark sat at his desk at twenty-two years old.
He held his own copy of ‘The Tale of Superheroes’ or, otherwise dubbed by his family, ‘The Avengers.’
”Pete, you coming down? The party’s started and everyones here. We’re just waiting for you Spider-Man!” Tony peeked his head into the room with a teasing look on his face.
Rolling his eyes Peter waved him off. “I’ll be down in a second Iron Man. Just a minute!” Peter teased back. “Also, tell Clint to not eat all the deviled eggs before I get down there. Please?”
Tony gave a thumbs up, “you got it kid. Though you might want to hurry up they’re like savages—“ A voice sounding like Steve cut in, “we heard that!”
Tony and Peter shared a smile while playful arguing started downstairs. Shaking his head fondly Tony closed his door and his footsteps receded as he shouted down the stairs—probably attempting to get everyone in order.
Closing the book Peter set it to the side and began to hum Spider-Man’s theme—someone had made theme songs for all of them on YouTube and they’d gotten wildly popular. Everyone liked theirs but his dad and Sam loved to make fun of them occasionally, everyone knows they secretly love theirs though.
Walking over to his closet he picked out a sweater, slipping it on over his shirt. He searched the bottom of his closet for his dress shoes.. god he needs to clean in here and organize for once like Pepper says, it’s a fucking mess—
A loud ‘swish’ noise came from behind him and Peter startled, dropping the shoes he’d finally found. He hit his head against the shelf above him. “Damn it—what the hell?..”
Turning around, instead of being met with something having fallen or someone coming back upstairs for him—a golden swirling portal sat in the middle of his bedroom.
Jaw dropped he completely forgot all about the shoes and the party as a figure stepped through the portal and said portal closed.
The person was wearing sweatpants and a jacket, peeking out from under the jacket though was a familair red suit, covering part of the person's neck. A mask was held in their right hand.
Eyes traveling up to their face Peter swore he could’ve fainted then and there—
Awkwardly, the ‘stranger’ raised a hand in greeting.
“Uh.. hi?..” Peter Parker said a little worriedly.
”What. The. Fuck.”