“in which they’re stuck in a time loop”
4105 words
ships: pepperony
tw/cw: panic attack, some strong language scattered throughout the fic (gets stronger towards the end), mentions of getting shot at, deaths, fire (super glossed over, but still), arguing
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"Good morning, New York! Welcome to the Times Square Morning Show, your hub for weather, transportation information, and news. Starting us off today, it's set to be a beautifully sunny Wednesday with highs reaching 82 degrees Fahrenheit (28 degrees celsius). The air will be windy—"
Tony Stark groaned as he slammed his arm against the button of his alarm repeatedly, until it finally shut off. Dragging himself out of his bed, he quickly got dressed, pulling on a graphic tee and a pair of black jeans that weren't currently crumpled in a pile on the floor. Yawning, he brushed his brown hair until it looked presentable enough to go out in public with, and headed out of his room.
The smell of food hit his senses the second he stepped out, and he headed to the kitchen, desperate to find the source. And coffee.
He was desperately craving coffee.
"Pep?" Tony called out. "Pepper?"
As the kitchen came into view, he found that it wasn't Pepper who was making the delicious-smelling food, but a certain curly-haired and brown-eyed boy, who was flipping crepes and frying eggs.
"Hey there, Pete," Tony said, leaning against a wall.
Peter turned to face him with a smile on his face and a spatula in hand. "Oh, hey, Mr. Stark!"
"What are you, uh," Tony gestured to the various pots and pans that were in use. "What are you doing? Here? At six in the morning?"
"Well, I was out on patrol last night, and it was going pretty good. I helped a lady get home and she bought me a churro! It's the second time that's happened! Anyway, I was swinging back to May's when some guy decided to shoot at me. I guess he was drunk or something, because he couldn't shoot straight to save his life," Peter said, gesturing wildly with his hands and the spatula.
"But he got one shot that grazed my shoulder, so I went down to confront him, because he had a gun and I didn't want anyone else to get hurt—"
"Hold on," Tony cut in, raising his hand to stop Peter's rambling. "You got shot at, and I don't hear about it until today?"
"I mean, yeah," Peter started, raking a hand through his brown curls. "But it's really no big deal! I managed to get the gun from him and I webbed him up and contacted the police. I left a note and everything!"
"Uh huh," Tony muttered, crossing his arms. "So what happened next?"
Setting down the spatula, Peter continued. "I had Karen call Dr. Banner so that he could check out my wound, make sure nothing was infected or worse than I thought, you know? But while he was treating the wound, I guess I passed out, because I woke up in the guest room a few hours ago. So I decided to surprise you!"
At any other time, Tony would've appreciated Peter's thoughtfulness, but right now, he was worried and mad. Worried because he didn't know the extent of the damage Peter sustained from getting shot at, and mad because this information had been kept from him for a while.
"So, to recap: You got shot at, called Banner, and fell asleep here, all without telling me?" Tony asked slowly, trying (and failing) to keep an even tone.
"Well yeah," Peter said, his smile quickly fading. "It wasn't that big of a deal, Mr. Stark, I didn't want to worry you."
"Well, count me worried." Tony clapped his hands together. "No patrol for a week, and I want the suit for the entirety of the week."
Tony wasn't keen on punishing the teen, but he was majorly worried about Peter, and worried people make hasty decisions.
"What?!" Peter exclaimed, the sizzling breakfast forgotten behind him. "Mr. Stark, come on! You can't do that!"
"Actually, I can," Tony replied coolly. "You got shot at, Peter. That was reckless, and you need to learn from your mistakes."
"It wasn't that big of a deal, Mr. Stark! He barely hit me, I—"
"But you got hit!" Tony shouted, his calm facade finally slipping. The boy flinched at his raised voice, and Tony felt a wave of regret washing over him that he quickly shoved away. "You got hit! What would've happened if you got hit in the chest? What would've happened if you never made it back last night? You could've died, Peter! You could've died, and that would've been on me!"
"Mr. Stark, I—" Peter stuttered.
"No, this is where you zip it, okay?! The adult is talking! You need to be more careful, and this is the only way you'll learn." Tony paused, taking a breath and trying to avoid Peter's eyes. The boy had a stunned expression on his face. "I need the suit, Peter."
"Mr. Stark, please," Peter pleaded, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "You can't take the suit from me. Not again."
Tony's heart ached at his words and his pained expression. He knew that he had to be stern with Peter sometimes, but that didn't make it any less difficult.
"The suit, Peter," Tony said, his hand outstretched, his voice just barely louder than the out-of-control sizzling of the pan. "Don't make me ask again.
Peter's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Okay. Let me get it."
He turned around, knocking the oil into the stove fire in the process. Tony watched as the flames stretched upwards, Peter's fear surely mirroring Tony's own, as the flames swallowed them up.
***
"Good morning, New York! Welcome to the Times Square Morning Show, your hub for weather, transportation information, and news. Starting us off today, it's set to be a beautifully sunny Wednesday with highs reaching 82 degrees—"
Tony shot straight up from his bed, kicking the blanket off of him and shutting the alarm off simultaneously.
"What the hell?" he muttered, his brows furrowing in confusion. "FRI, what day is it?
"Today is Wednesday, May 17th. Would you also like the weather?" The AI's cool voice replied.
"No, that's alright, thanks honey," Tony muttered.
His mind was flying. There was no way today was Wednesday, Wednesday was yesterday and today should've been Thursday, he was certain of it. He'd reprimanded Peter yesterday, and then—
What the hell happened afterwards?
"You seem in distress, sir. Should I contact Mr. Parker? Or Miss Potts?" FRIDAY asked, taking on a slightly concerned tone.
"No, no, I'm good, FRI."
He quickly got dressed, grabbing the same things he wore yesterday, which was today, but also yesterday? ("Fucking witchcraft sorcery time travel bullshit.") He was just about to head out when Peter burst through the door to his room, panting heavily, eyes frantic.
"Oh thank god," Peter sighed in relief, dragging a hand through his hair. "Do you remember anything from yesterday?" the boy asked, before muttering to himself, "Well, technically yesterday is today and today was yesterday, if I'm not going insane, which is a very likely possibility, but—"
"I'm not the only one who realized that?"
Peter paused his rambling as he realized what Tony meant, and his eyes widened in realization and relief. "Oh my god, you know too! I asked Pepper and Happy about it and they looked at me like I was crazy! But I'm not crazy because you noticed too!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa kid, slow down," Tony said in a weak attempt to calm the teen down. "What exactly do you remember from yesterday-slash-today?"
Peter paused, choosing his words carefully. "Waking up in the guest room, making breakfast, arguing with you, and then I remember fire." He frowned, trying to remember more. "That's weird, I— I can't remember anything past that."
"I can't even remember the fire that you're talking about," Tony started, before trailing off. "Holy shit," he whispered.
"What?" Peter asked, sounding confused.
"There was oil spilled onto the open flame, and that must've caused the fire," Tony said slowly, trying to string together his scattered memories to form a coherent idea of what had happened.
Peter's eyes widened as the memories of what had happened flooded his mind. "Oh yeah! And I knocked over the oil," he realized. "Sorry about that, by the way."
"Don't worry about it," Tony said, waving him off. "I'm sure everybody's accidentally killed themselves and their mentor and lived to tell the tale at least once."
"This is just like that super old movie I saw with Aunt May once!" Peter suddenly exclaimed. "What was it called? Umm..."
Tony chuckled. "What was the movie about?"
"Basically this self-centered weatherman gets stuck in a time loop on some holiday, over and over, and he has to keep repeating the day until he gets it right. It's a decent movie, I think," Peter summarizes.
"Groundhog Day?" Tony asks.
"Mr. Stark, Groundhog Day was over month ago."
"No, the movie you're talking about, is it called Groundhog Day?" Tony clarifies, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.
Peter squints, thinking. "Um, yeah, I think so."
"Thought so."
"So... are we stuck in a time loop?"
"...Possibly?"
"So we're screwed."
"Very screwed."
"Great."
The pair fell into a tense, thoughtful silence as they tried to grasp their predicament.
"So, in that movie," Tony said. "What does the weatherman have to do to get out of the time loop?"
"I can't remember," Peter signed, dragging his hands through his curls. "All I remember is that he did something wrong, so he had to relive the same day until he got it right."
"What did we do wrong?" Tony wondered out loud. "Burn breakfast?"
"Maybe the universe is mad at you for yelling at me?" Peter pondered.
"I wasn't yelling at you!" Tony exclaimed incredulously. "I was just worried about your safety."
"Yeah, and you being worried means you yell."
"I do not—"
Peter stared at him with an expression that seemed to say, 'yeah, right'.
Tony rolled his eyes. "Maybe... I do yell," he conceded. "Only sometimes though!"
"Progress!" Peter said, clapping his hands slowly.
"So... what do we do? Am I supposed to apologize to you and everything will go back to normal?"
"It's worth a shot," Peter shrugged. "But it needs to be genuine, and everyone knows that you don't apologize a lot."
"I apologize when I'm wrong, kid, and—"
"And you're never wrong, I know," Peter said sarcastically.
Tony sighed. God, this kid would be the death of him.
"Look, just— just apologize, and we'll go from there," Peter pleaded in exasperation. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"It doesn't work and we end up dying. Again."
"Mr. Stark!" Peter whined. "Try to stay positive, please."
"No can do, kiddo. 'Positive' is not in my vocabulary."
"You're a genius," Peter pointed out. "Everything is in your vocabulary."
"There are tons of words that aren't in my vocabulary. Like, pushover, stupid, oh, and posit—"
"Okay, okay, forget it! Just try to apologize, and make it sound genuine," Peter exclaimed, his hands running through his hair.
"Fine, fine," Tony said, letting out and exasperated breath. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Peter. It was rude and unprompted, and I promise to try and control my temper next time."
As Tony finished, the pair stayed silent, ears straining to find some sort of sign from the universe or whoever controlled stupid time loops or whatever the hell they were trapped in. Instead of a flash of lighting, or a crash of thunder (or whatever happens when the universe sends you a sign), they were met with silence, save for the sounds of the city.
"It didn't work," Tony muttered, distraught.
"Of course it didn't work," Peter reasoned. "Your apology sounded like something a first-grader would say when they were forced to apologize to someone."
"Hey, I did exactly what you told me to do," Tony defended. "Don't blame me when you came up with the idea in the first place."
"Do you have any better ideas?" Peter asked, pausing for Tony's non-existent answer. "That's what I thought. At least I had an idea."
"Well, excuse me if I didn't have an idea, it's not like I've ever been stuck in a situation like this before!"
"You could've put in more effort! Maybe it would've worked then!" Peter accused.
"I put in as much effort as I could!"
"Which wasn't enough!" Peter shouted.
Tony stood there, stunned. In the entire time they'd known each other, they knew that there were certain lines that couldn't be crossed, but Tony had never imagined that Peter would ever say that he wasn't enough. It was enough to bring back the painful flashbacks of his childhood, the coldness of his father, and Tony's desperation to just be enough for Howard.
"I'm getting out of here," Tony said quietly. "You can figure this out yourself."
"Mr. Stark, I—"
But Tony didn't hear the rest of it, because he walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
As he made his way to the living room, he saw something on the horizon that was quickly gaining speed as it made its way towards him. Tony had just enough time to start running upstairs towards Peter before the missile hit.
***
"Good morning, New York! Welcome to the Times Square Morning Show, your hub for weather, transportation information, and news. Starting us off today, it's set to be a beautifully sunny Wednesday with highs—"
"Fuck," Tony groaned. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"
He would've taken death by missile over this, at least then he wouldn't have to deal with the same day again. He would've gladly died yesterday-today, and it would've been painless. It would've sucked to have died on such bad terms with Peter, but—
Wait.
"Peter," Tony mumbled as he slid out of bed.
Quickly getting dressed, he rushed out of his room and travelled down the winding stairs and vast hallways until he arrived at Peter's room. It used to be a dedicated guest room, meant for housing celebrities, interviewers, and one-night stands, if the situation called for it.
Now however, it was Peter's room, for whenever he needed to stay over, whether it was because May was working late, or she was traveling, or just because he wanted to stay over. Over the years, it became more personalized to Peter's tastes, covered with posters advertising his favorite musicians and movies, trophies and medals he'd won for Academic Decathlon, newspaper clippings of stories about Spider-Man, and, of course, a dedicated area to house Peter's Spider-Man suit and accessories.
Slowly, Tony pushed open Peter's door, not wanting to startle the boy awake, if he was still sleeping. Peeking his head in, Tony saw that Peter was not, in fact, sleeping soundly in his bed. He rushed in and looked around until he caught sight of the yellow glow of light under the door of the en suite bathroom. Signing in relief, he sank into Peter's bed, laying flat on his back with his legs hanging off the edge.
"Mr. Stark?" Peter asked, his eyes full of bewilderment. "What're you doing here?”
"Oh, you know," Tony started, waving his hand. "Just making sure you're alive."
"Oh," Peter said, drying his hair with a hand towel. "Well, I'm alive."
"Yeah, I can see that."
Peter sighed, tossing the towel on the floor. "You're still mad at me, aren't you? About what I said?"
"A bit," the man admitted. "I'm just relieved that you're alive after, you know, yesterday's death."
"I didn't even see what happened! One minute I was there, the next, I was here," Peter explained.
"Do you want me to tell you what happened?"
"Yes!" Peter exclaimed. "I- I mean, yeah, sure, I don't really care."
"There was a missile that hit the tower, so naturally, we died," Tony explained.
"That's... actually a cool way to go."
"No, it's not. You're not allowed to die, ever."
Peter laughed and playfully rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Mr. Stark."
"I'm serious!" Tony started, before breaking into a laugh.
Peter sighed, deep in thought, as he sat down next to Tony, his hand cradling his chin.
"What are we gonna do about this, Mr. Stark?" Peter wondered.
Tony pushed himself up and examined Peter. Fear was etched into every bone in his body, as he relentlessly bounced his leg. He was chewing on his lip, an anxious habit he'd seemed to develop after everything that had happened after homecoming (which Tony still didn't know about what exactly went down — Peter said Tony only needed to know the "important stuff".)
"C'mere, kiddo," Tony offered, his arms outstretched.
Peter gratefully took him up on the offer, nestling his body against Tony. The boy rested his head against Tony's shoulder and gripped his shirt like it was a lifeline. Tony rubbed Peter's back in gentle circles, in what he hoped was a comforting manner, whispering soft reassurances against his ear.
"We're gonna figure this out, Pete," Tony whispered soothingly to the boy. "I promise we will."
"What if we don't?" Peter breathed shakily. "What if— if we're stuck here forever?"
"Hey, hey, we can't afford to think like that," Tony said, pulling out of the embrace and cupping Peter's face. "And we won't be stuck here forever. Whoever is in charge of the universe wouldn't want us to relive a Wednesday forever and ever, that's the worst day!" Tony exclaimed, smiling when his joke drew a soft peal of laughter from Peter.
"I guess you're right," Peter said softly.
"I'm always right, bambino," Tony said as he planted a light kiss on Peter's temple. "We can figure this out, don't worry about it."
"Yeah, okay," Peter muttered.
Tony embraced the boy once more, his head pressed near the faint blue glow of Tony's arc reactor. Peter's arms were wrapped around him tightly as the man's hand gently carded through his brown curls, and Peter's grip tightened as his heart rate sped up.
"Hey, hey, breathe, kiddo," Tony whispered soothingly as Peter's breaths quickened into sharp inhales and gasps of breath. "Come on, breathe for me, Pete."
"C-can't," Peter rasped between his gasps for air. "'s too m-much."
"What's too much, kid? The time loop thing?"
Peter nodded against Tony's shoulder.
"Mkay kiddo, can you talk to me?" Tony asked, receiving a slow nod as an answer. "D'you want to do the 54321 thing?"
"Yeah," Peter muttered, his grip tightening.
"Okay, what are five things you can see, Pete?" Tony started.
"Um... your shirt, my towel, the— the blanket, my hand, and the— the um, the door," Peter observed softly, his grip still unrelenting.
"Good, good, kid," Tony murmured, his thumb rubbing small circles in through Peter's curls. "How about four things you can feel?"
"Your hand, your shirt," Peter started, his vice-like grip slightly loosening. "Um, your— your breathing, and— and, um, my heartbeat."
"Good job kid, keep 'em coming," Tony praised. "Three things you can hear?"
"My breathing, your heartbeat, and, um..." Peter trailed off, straining his ears to hear something and simultaneously loosened his grip on Tony's shirt. "The angry New Yorkers in a traffic jam."
Tony stifled a laugh, not having expected that answer from the teen. His laugh drew a smile from Peter. "Well, what do you expect? We're in central Manhattan after all."
Peter just nodded and weakly smiled.
"Alright kid, we're almost done, you're doing great," Tony reassured Peter, feeling his grip loosen until he was barely holding on. "Give me two things you can smell."
"The soap, from the— from the shower, and uh, your laundry detergent."
"There we go," Tony said softly. "And what's one thing you can taste?"
"My, um, my toothpaste," Peter said as his breathing and heart rate returned to normal. He fully let go of Tony's shirt, leaving wrinkles where he'd bunched up fistfuls of the fabric.
"Good job, kiddo," Tony praised, in a manner that seemed to sound gentle yet not condescending., as he let go of Peter. "I'm so proud of you, Underoos. You handled that very well."
"Well, I 'ad a little help," Peter muttered, ducking his head. "Thank you, by the way. For, um, you know, the whole panic attack thing."
"It's no problem, kid, it's no problem at all," Tony said, ruffling Peter's hair.
***
"Good morning, New York! Welcome to the Times Square Morning Show, your hub for weather, transportation information, and news. Today is set to be a stark contrast from yesterday, with a dreadfully stormy Thursday. Unless storms are your thing, then congratulations, because this is your day! The highs today are going to be nearing 68 degrees Fahrenheit (20 degrees celsius), and the lows will be 60 degrees Fahrenheit (15 degrees celsius). Keep an eye out for stray debris after the freak storm that was yesterday, and stay turned for road closings caused by yesterday's storm, after the break."
"—ny, Tony!"
A strand of strawberry-blonde hair rested right above Tony's eyes as he woke up.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Pep!" Tony exclaimed as he jumped out of bed, startled awake by Pepper's face very close to his own. "Next time, wake me up normally, please?"
"I tried," Pepper stated, biting back a smile at Tony's reaction. "But you wouldn't wake up. All night long, you were mumbling about time loops and death. It was freaking me out!"
"So, was it all a dream?" Tony mumbled aloud to himself.
"Was what all a dream?" Pepper asked.
"Nothing, nothing. Don't worry about it, Pep."
"If you say so," she said, shaking her head. "God, you and Peter both."
Tony frowned and sat up from his spot on the floor. "What's that supposed to mean? Peter and I both what?"
"Well," Pepper started, sitting down next to Tony as he rested his head against her shoulder. "Peter woke up and ran out of his room, muttering to himself about time loops and death, and when I ran into him, he asked me about you, but he seemed super anxious. He's in the lab right now, I have a feeling this is something that you two need to talk about."
"Yeah," Tony agreed, pushing himself off of the floor. "Yeah, you're right."
"I know I'm right!" Pepper shouted behind Tony's retreating figure.
"I love you, Miss Potts!" Tony shouted as he left the room.
"I love you, Mr. Stark," Pepper replied, a wide smile on her face.
Peter had been tinkering with his AI, Karen, for almost three hours when Tony burst into the lab, still in his pyjamas. Tony barely had time to get out any words before Peter tackled him with a hug, and the force he launched himself at caused Tony to stumble backwards a few steps as his arms wrapped around the teen.
"Jesus, Pete, what's this all for?" Tony questioned as Peter held on to him like a lifeline.
"Tell me it was real," Peter said. "Tell me you remember it too."
"What, the time loop? Or you getting shot at while on patrol?"
The exhale of relief and the slackened from Peter was enough of an answer for Tony, and was the confirmation the pair needed.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark," Peter started, sputtering out an apology. "I'm sorry for being irresponsible on patrol and for burning breakfast and saying that you weren't enough and for—"
"Kid."
"—having a panic attack and—"
"Kid."
"—causing this whole time loop thing in the first—"
"Kid!"
Peter jumped a bit as Tony startled him, successfully stopping his ramble apology piece.
"What?"
"Kid, you don't need to be sorry for anything. Except maybe the whole thing where you said I wasn't enough, that kind of hurt," Tony started.
"Well, yeah, I'm really sorry about that—"
"Let me finish! I'm sorry, Peter. I'm sorry for getting mad at you, even if it was justifiable in the moment. It wasn't okay for me to get mad at you when I probably would've done the same thing if I was in your shoes. So, I'm sorry," Tony apologized, shrugging and weakly smiling.
Peter was stunned. Never, not once, had he heard the Tony Stark apologize for anything, and here he was, apologizing to a teenager.
"Why the weirded-out face, kid? Did I say something wrong? I'm not good at this sort of thing, I usually don't apologize for anything."
"Exactly! You don't apologize, ever!" Peter exclaimed.
"Ah, ah, ah. I apologize when I'm wrong, Pete," Tony clarified. "Now, how about some breakfast? I'm starving."
Peter laughed. "Sure, Mr. Stark. As long as the kitchen doesn't burn down again."
fin
a/n: this one took forever! i'm already a really slow writer who gets too many ideas to keep track of, so this one took forever. since this is the first *legitimate* one-shot in this collection, i hope it gave you guys a good first impression, because i'm very proud of this one :)
i hope you guys enjoyed! make sure to stay safe and take care of yourselves! make sure to drink enough water and eat enough food (from personal experience, 500 calories is not nearly enough)
—cleo xx