Semper Fratres

Tony looked good. He looked… young, actually, younger than Peter had seen him before. There were no streaks of pepper in his hair or beard and he walked in with a familiar saunter, like he owned the place. He looked slick, too, dressed in a lavish blue suit with velvet midnight lapels and his infamous rosy-colored glasses. He took them off once he saw Peter and his ever-present smirk grew into a full smile. “Hey, Spiderling. Long time no see.”

Peter’s heart was racing so fast, it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. It hurt to see him, but it was a good type of hurt, like someone hugging you too tight. He wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. Tony was just such a beautiful, welcomed sight that he just wanted to sand there and bathe in his presence. 

It took him a few seconds to find his voice and when he did, it shook so badly, he could barely get the words out. “H-Hey, Mr. Stark.” His mouth went dry. What should he say? Tell him how much he missed him? Blurt out what happened since Thanos? Peter wanted to say everything and anything, but he couldn’t form it into coherent words and he simply gaped at his mentor.

“College didn’t teach you how to get better at public speaking, I see,” Tony teased. He made a motion to sit, and suddenly he was… sitting. In a familiar-looking stool, surrounded by a giant workshop full of metal parts. His Iron Man mask and other variations of it laid by his elbow, as if proudly on display.

Distantly, Peter wondered if this was Tony’s private workshop. He worked in the basement of his home, right? That’s what Pepper said (and frequently complained about). 

Why were they here? How did he get here? He wanted to look around, to check out his surroundings, but he found that his gaze was magnetically fixated on Tony. 

“You are in college, right?” Tony interrupted his thoughts, raising a judgemental eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you flunked some test-”

“No no, I’m in college.” Peter swallowed, shifting his weight nervously on his feet.. “MIT. Your alma mater.” 

Tony’s pearly-white smile was wide and proud. It made the edges of his eyes wrinkle but somehow made him look even more handsome. “That’s my boy. Sit.” He gestured downward and suddenly Peter found himself sitting on an identical work stool. It was comfy and it had wheels, so he scooted forward to Tony as close as he dared. 

“Is it really you?” the boy breathed. His fingers itched to touch him, but he thought that might be rude so he clasped his fingers in his lap instead.  “Is this one of Strange’s spells?”

“Oh, that ol’ stick in the mud. He wishes, probably.” Tony set his elbow on the nearest desk, perfectly at home in this environment. “How’s the doc doing by the way?” There was something deeper, darker in his eyes that implied a much broader question. How is everyone?

“S-Strange? Uh,” Peter’s eyes crossed briefly. “He’s good, I… think.” Actually, he didn’t know if the sorcerer was ‘good’. He looked really busy and stressed lately, and when Peter had seen him last, he waved his hand to shoo the boy away, mumbling something about witches and New Jersey, but Peter didn’t dare ask. 

Tony’s sharp eyes softened a little. “How’s Pepper and Morgan?”

Peter tried to smile at him, but it came out strained. They don’t remember me, he wanted to say, but instead, he said, “Uh, well, Stark Inc. doing well in the stock market, I think, so Pepper’s got a handle on it. And Morgan…” He went a little soft himself. He only ever met her at Tony’s funeral and those precious few minutes were enough to make him love her like a little sister. “I think she’s in private school now, or so the news says.”

“Of course she is. Genius-level IQ runs in the family.” Tony eyed him quietly for a while longer. It was strange, he didn’t seem surprised by any of this news. It was as if he was testing Peter, seeing what he would say and if he’d tell the truth. “I hear you’ve made some new friends.” 

Feeling suddenly like he was being grilled, Peter toyed with his own fingers nervously. “W-Who do you mean?”

“Your…” Tony tapped his chin, as if looking for the right word, “Twins? Brothers? Amigos? I can keep going if you’d like.” 

“Oh, them.” Peter was relieved; he could talk about his brothers forever. “They’re amazing,” he gushed. “They’ve taught me so much. They have PhDs, one of them is even married, and they’ve taught me all these things that I didn’t even know we could do and-” He trailed off.

Tony leaned his head on his hand, resting his elbow on the table nearby. He was looking at him wistfully, and there were so many emotions flashing across his face - pride, joy, sadness, grief. 

Peter swallowed. “M-Mr. Stark?”

The man gave a light shrug and smoothed his face into his familiar, almost-bored expression. “I just wanted to check in, that’s all,” he said, as if it was no big deal. “Gotta make sure someone’s getting you to school and keeping you out of trouble.” He breathed on his glasses until they fogged up, scrubbed them lightly against his lapels and stood, as if to go. “Seems like you’re in good hands. Can’t stay too long, I think they’re waiting on you.” 

Peter rose, too, feeling panicked. There was so much he wanted to say, he didn’t even know where to begin. “W-Wait, please, I just… I never told you-” His vision blurred with tears. His breathing hitched and he felt like there was a rope around his chest, squeezing out all of his emotions like a tsunami. “I never got to t-thank you for everything, for taking care of me and bringing me back and… and… “

Tony’s thin lips twitched upward and affection danced in his dark eyes. “I know.”

—---

Peter jerked awake with a gasp, every muscle in his body tense and ready for a fight.

“Whoa. You okay?” There was a soft touch to his shoulder. 

He jerked away instinctively, scrambling backwards on all fours until his back and arms bumped into a wall. He patted the wall -it was rough and made of brick. The sensation of being pressed against it grounded him, as did the cool night air and the soft wind that told him he was out in the open, on the top of a building.

Peter pulled off his mask, inhaling the cold air with frantic gulps. He rubbed at his eyes and found them to be wet. 

“Peter?”

Sniffling miserably, the boy looked up.

His brothers were a beautiful sight, their lithe bodies framed against the starry night and full moon. Peter-Three was crouched nearby, his long limbs instinctively curled low to the ground as if to make himself smaller and less threatening. Peter-Two was studying them carefully from where he stood watch along the edge of the roof, looking as poised and dignified as ever.

Peter-One thought back to that fateful night when they met. They looked like that, just now, framed against the moonlight -incredibly aloof, distant and untouchable. Beings from another universe who felt incredibly familiar and yet were totally unknown to him. 

Then the moment passed and all his recent memories rushed back to him. His brothers were here. They were here with him, willingly, spending time with him and sharing the burden of being Spiderman together. 

Peter-Three gingerly stepped toward him with his palms raised, as if approaching a terrified animal. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just us.” 

Peter-Two gracefully stepped off his perch, leaning over them both with worry radiating off his slim figure. “Bad dream?” he asked quietly. 

Peter-One drew up his knees, curling himself into a miserable little ball. “Kinda,” he whispered. “Maybe not that bad, I guess.” 

His brothers shared a knowing look. They did that all the time, come to think of it. Peter-One was convinced the older Peters could communicate telepathically, ‘cause they often came to some silent agreement without his input. 

Without another word, Peter-Two sat down on his left and Peter-Three sat down on his right. They were close enough that Peter-One could feel their warmth radiating through their thin spandex suits. He instinctively leaned into them, relaxing his legs against Peter-Three and tilting his head to rest on Peter-Two’s shoulder. 

Safe, part of his still-frantic mind registered. This feels safe. 

“Boy, college did a number on you. You must not be getting enough sleep,” the tallest Peter chuckled, patting his knees.

“When’s your first class tomorrow?” Peter-Two asked.

“8:30, it’s Orgo,” Peter-One mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“AM?” Peter-Two chuckled. Peter-One could feel the sound through his shoulder and it comforted him. “That’s the worst. Classes before 10 AM should be banned.” 

“Ewwwww, Orgo,” Peter-Three added dramatically, “Only class worse than Fluid Dynamics.”

“I dunno, Orgo wasn’t so bad,” Peter-Two mused thoughtfully, “Our professor told us he’d teach us how to make meth if we could get our class average high enough.” 

Peter-Three broke out into peals of laughter. He had a wheezy, giggly sort of laugh, the kind that brought a smile to other people’s faces and instantly brightened a room. “No way. Lemme guess, the class average wasn’t even close.”

“Nope, ‘course not,” Peter-Two agreed, shoulders shaking with mirth. “I agree with you on Fluid Dynamics though. Calculating the velocity of water flowing around a corner is just not a useful skill to know.” 

Peter-One closed his eyes as they bantered above his head. He appreciated what they were doing; talking about normal subjects and trying to take his mind off whatever just happened. It felt… normal. Relaxing. Grounding.

A warm, strong hand on his head drew his attention. Peter-Two simply rested it there, providing something stable and comforting to focus on. “You want to talk about it?” he offered softly.

Peter-One hugged his knees a little closer to him, toying with his mask near his ankles. He didn’t, not really, but his brothers taught him that it was better to talk about things than to hold it in. “Does… Does Uncle Ben ever visit your dreams?” he whispered. 

Both of his brothers’ weights shifted and he could feel the piercing intensity of both of their gazes on him. He squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t look up - he knew those looks of pity. He also knew the question made them sad, but he genuinely wanted to know. 

Peter-Two was the one who broke the silence first. “Yeah,” he said quietly, settling back into place and leaning against the wall. He made no motion to push Peter-One’s head off his shoulder, so the younger man simply left it there because it felt nice. “Sometimes. May, too.”

“Gwen visits mine,” Peter-Three added, and there was a familiar hitch of pain in his voice. He scooted away from them to sit cross-legged, facing them instead. “Why do you ask?”

Peter-One smiled at him, sadly. “I guess an old friend popped by to say hi.” 

Peter-Three’s shoulders drooped with understanding. “It happens. They say the boundary between the living world and the dead is thinnest when we’re asleep.”

“You believe that?” Peter-Two asked, no judgment in his tone. 

Peter-Three shrugged and leaned back on his hands to look at the sky. “I read it in some books. Doesn’t hurt anyone if I believe it.”

An airplane with slow, flashing lights flew overhead and all three looked up to watch it in companionable silence. 

“My Aunt May was Catholic,” Peter-Two mused wistfully. The other two looked at him with curiosity but he didn’t look away from the plane. “She took me to church and everything. After I became Spiderman… after I’ve seen so much evil and lost so many people… It was hard for me to believe in anything anymore. She understood when I stopped going with her, but I could tell it hurt her.” 

Peter-One bit his lip, then nudged the other’s shoulder gently with his own. “You don’t need religion to be a good person.” 

Peter-Two’s face wasn’t visible under his mask, but they could feel that he was smiling. “You’re right.”

“You don’t need religion to believe the dead are watching over us, either,” Peter-Three added. 

“I like that idea,” Peter-One admitted, a watery smile growing on his face. I wish Mr. Stark could have met you. He would have loved you both.