the end is where we begin

When days pass and there is still no news of May, Tony quietly moves her to the list of the dead. Holding out hope for so long felt foolish, really — they won’t get that kind of happy ending — but it was worth it, if only for the way the kid’s eyes lit up, just a little, when he sat next to Tony as they ran a scan of the declared survivors.

That light has been getting dimmer and dimmer though, and now Tony can clearly tell Peter is barely even fooling himself anymore, if he ever truly was.

“What will I do?” Peter asks, his tone more terrified and dejected than Tony’s ever heard him — god, he’s so young — and Tony fakes a smile for his sake as he pats him on the shoulder.

It’s awkward — he’s not used to expressing his feelings outside of life-or-death situations, and he’s still unbearably weak — but the kid perks up nonetheless, and something in Tony’s chest twists.

Or un-twists, maybe. It’s hard to tell these days.

Maybe that’s why he just blurts it out like this. “You can stay with me. Us.” Tony almost wants to take it back, because he’s in no shape to take care of anyone — god, the last time he tried he probably traumatized the kid forever — but Peter’s eyes fill with tears and he looks so goddamn hopeful that Ton can’t.

He just can’t.

He slides his arm around the kid’s shoulders before Peter can start to protest — because the kid will, since he’s apparently never learned to accept a kind thing in his life and has self-worth issues to rival even Tony’s.

It’s also because starvation is not fun for the body. Who knew, right? Weeks of a normal diet and lying down and Tony still gets dizzy if he stands up too quickly or too long, and he still feels like a stiff breeze might knock him over.

He hates having to rely on the kid like this, but apart from maybe Bruce and Pepper, Peter’s the only one he trusts around here.

Of course, the kid would probably jump at the chance to help him out, Tony thinks fondly.

Still, flying the suit again feels like a distant daydream — not that Tony deserves to these days, not after letting half the universe die.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s see if we can’t find Pepper somewhere around here to help us make this more official.”

He could ask Friday to do it, obviously, but something tells him Peter would probably appreciate a more humane touch here.

See? He can learn.

Tony starts walking, tugging Peter along, who thankfully finally seems to find his voice again.

“Erm, Mr. Stark? Do you know where we’re going?”

Tony laughs. It’s easy, somehow, around Peter. Even with the grief that hangs thick around the kid and makes Tony’s heart clench in a way that always makes him think he’s two seconds away from a heart attack, being around Peter can always make him smile.

“No idea, kid,” Tony confesses with a shrug. “But I’m pretty sure we can find her in the office space.”

“Oh,” Peter says, frowning. “Is that where we’re going then? Because, I don’t want to alarm you, Mr. Stark, but I think the office space’s in the other direction…”

Tony laughs again. “Of course not. We’re going to the kitchen first. Pep’s been dealing with what’s left of SI’s board all morning, she deserves a pick-me-up or she’ll probably murder us. Well, she’ll murder me anyway — she loves you.” 

“Well, I’m very lovable,” Peter retorts with a quicksilver grin, and Tony grins back, swatting his arm gently.

(Not that he needs to, the kid’s muscles have muscles. Goddamned freaking radioactive spider bites.)

For an instant, though, it’s almost like nothing ever happened. Like Thanos never came, and Tony’s just kidnapped his ‘intern’ for a day showing off all of his newest toys to the kid, half-heartedly trying to convince him to join the Avengers again by dropping not-so-subtle clues about it that Peter would reject shyly.

But of course everything has. This isn’t a fun day out on Peter’s holidays or weekends, it’s every day now, because school’s been canceled since the Snap and the kid’s aunt is probably dead, as are most of his friends.

Tony’s been luckier than most to keep the Avengers, Pepper and Rhodey (and Peter, oh god, he can’t imagine what he’d be like if he’d lost Peter), but Peter really hasn’t been as lucky.

Instead of saying anything else, Tony sighs and turns his loose hold on Peter’s shoulders into a tight embrace.

They must look stupid, hugging in the middle of a random corridor, but Peter clings to him and sobs in his shirt, and Tony wouldn’t dare to let go for the world.

“It’s going to be okay,” he mumbles out into the kid’s hair, and fights back tears of his own.

He hopes the world won’t make a liar out of him again.

They do actually find Pepper in the office space. Tony does an inner triumphant dance, and outwardly shoots Peter a very mature gloating look.

“My tribute to our overlord,” he jokes with a grin as he offers Pepper a muffin and a steaming cup of coffee. “How’s the kingdom?”

Pepper greets them tiredly — her smile, Tony notes fondly, is noticeably softer for Peter — and bites into the muffin hungrily as she answers, “Terrible. You sure you don’t want it back?”

Tony snorts. “I’d probably go insane in a week, kill everyone and declare myself a supervillain if I did, and nobody needs that right now,” he replies, only half-joking.

Board meetings are definitely not something he misses, and the fact that they’re still happening as the entire world struggles not to crumble with half its workforce randomly turned to ashes is only proof of how hellish they are.

Behind Pepper’s back, the screen lights up with Johnson’s face — ugh, of all the board members to have survived the Snap too — and Tony frantically blinks and grimaces until Friday picks up his intentions and shuts down the call.

“Did you just —” Peter starts, and Tony panics and shoves the second muffin he’d carried into the kid’s mouth to shut him up.

They both immediately freeze and turn their head to find Pepper staring at them very judgmentally.

Tony very slowly lets his hand drop while Peter swallows and raises his right hand to grab the part of the muffin sticking out of his mouth. “Thanks?” he asks, bewildered, through a mouthful of food.

Pepper shakes her head fondly. “I saw that, you know?” she tells Tony, her eyes shining with amusement. “You didn’t have to do that to poor Peter.”

“He looked hungry,” Tony lies.

Pepper snorts. “You do realize I’ll have to deal with Johnson eventually, right?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “And you know if you answer too quickly he’ll ask for more,” he counters.

Pepper hums, swinging her legs and licking the last crumbs of her muffin off her lips.

(God, Tony loves her so much. He’s so grateful she’s still here.)

“What do you propose then?” she asks, arching an inquisitive eyebrow.

Tony looks back at the kid, who is still munching his way through his muffin — ah, to have the metabolism of a spider mutant teenager. He shakes his head fondly.

“I was thinking we could have a look into that thing,” he says, looking at her meaningfully.

Pepper, bless her, understands him instantly. Her eyebrows go up as she stares back at Peter. “Now?”

“Now,” Tony confirms, fighting a losing battle to keep hold of his excitement.

He turns back to Peter, who stares back, unsure. He grins and beckons him forward. “Come on, kid, sit down.”

Gingerly, Peter does, shuffling closer as Pepper pulls the monitors closer to them. She shuts down all SI related pages with a swift hand, Tony notes proudly — she’s so much better than him at not getting lost in her work, and she also loves what Tony’s always just called ‘boring bureaucratic stuff’ and pulls up the property list Tony had suggested they look into one sleepless night.

They have so much more of those recently, but having a goal to fall back on as they wake has helped.

Maybe it can help Peter too.

Tony hopes so anyway — and he knows Pepper does too. 

“What are you looking for?” Peter finally asks after a few moments staring at the files Pepper pulls up. A lot of them are blueprints of warehouses or other such buildings Tony owned or had inherited from his parents, and as such, they’d already discarded them, but this way, they can include Peter in the process more.

Tony always loves it when he and Pepper are on the same wavelength.

“A house,” Tony answers. “I love this place, but I built it for the Avengers and we’re not…” He clears his throat and changes the subject with faked cheer. 

“Pepper and I are going to be newlyweds soon, and we don’t want the whole clique around for that,” he says, winking at his fiance, who doesn’t even flinch at the innuendo.

Peter, for the first time in forever, lights up. “You’re still getting married?”

Tony startles. He looks back at Pepper, who stares back at him.

Talk to him, her eyes seem to say.

Why me?? Tony whines back in a pout.

Pepper’s glare hardens. Because he likes you, Tony.

She doesn’t mention the f-word, luckily, but it hangs there, between them, anyway, a silent ghost Tony doesn’t think he’ll ever get rid of.

Tony bites back a shiver and heaves a sigh, turning back to Peter.

“Yeah, we’re still getting married.” His voice turns fond without his input, and his hand finds Pepper’s, squeezing it tightly. “You’re invited, of course,” he adds, because he’d sent Peter’s original wedding invitation to his aunt.

May had been going to share it with him after his exams — she had known, just as Tony did, that the news would have distracted him — and Tony, eager in a way he still isn’t very keen to examine to get May to stop looking at him like she wanted to murder him, had agreed readily.

Well, after only some minor pouting, at least.

“Really?” Peter’s eyes are wide and bright in a way that makes Tony’s throat feel uncomfortably tight, and he clears his throat.

“Yup,” he replies, popping out the p. Pepper runs her thumb across the back of his hand, and Tony exhales quietly, his shoulders shedding some tension. “We don’t have a date yet, but we’re thinking soon.”

He doesn’t say that they don’t want to waste anymore time, but they’re all thinking it anyway.

Out loud, Tony continues, “Our main issue so far is dragging my honey bun from the military for a day.” He pouts when Pepper snorts.

“Rhodey’s schedule is… complicated,” she says, very diplomatically. “So while we try to find a date — and no, Tony, we are not kidnapping him,” she interjects sternly before Tony can even open his mouth for what is a very sensible suggestion.

“We’d give him back,” he whines. To his great pride, Peter has to stifle a laugh while Pepper rolls her eyes at him, her lips quirked up into a fond smile.

“Rhodey vetoed all kidnapping for this year,” she reminds him, and Tony’s heart twists painfully at the reminder.

They all know why Rhodey’s so busy — and will keep being busy.

It’s the elephant in the room — the one issue Tony failed to solve.

The one issue that cost them half the universe.

(Or rather, everything.)

Pepper’s face flashes with grief before her smile eases into something gentler. “Anyway,” she says, pushing the monitor closer to Peter, “we’ve been looking for a place to go.”

“Oh.” Tony watches as Peter’s face falls, just a little, before he hides it behind an eager grin. “What are you looking for?”

Tony looks back at Pepper, who nods at him again. Talk to him, her eyes shout at him, as if it is that easy.

But maybe it should be, he thinks as he watches Peter’s eyes shine with barely buried fear and pain. He’s almost lost the kid too many times already, and the kid has lost… everyone who matters in his life.

Tony’s lost people too, but the ones who matter to him — Pepper, Rhodey, Happy and Peter… 

(The Avengers, even.)

They’re all still here.

And he’s tried the whole superhero frat house before and it failed spectacularly, so he’s not going to make another attempt. Not when Thor’s already got one foot out of the door already — the people he needs to care for a better excuse than most have — and when he and Steve still can’t look each other in the eye or talk without it turning bitter.

But this would be different. This would be Peter, yet another wizkid who somehow wormed his way into Tony’s life, and maybe trying to make him stay won’t backfire horribly on him.

Besides, he thinks ruefully as Pepper shoots him an encouraging smile, at least he won’t be alone on this.

On the monitor, he idly taps on one of the properties he and Pepper had outlined as a potential option.

The blueprints for the house — a smaller property than he’d have thought he owned — pop up instantly, as do the images of the lake nearing the house.

“Do you like this one?” he asks. “We thought the lake might be fun on warm summer days, and it apparently freezes in winter too, so free ice rink.”

Tony frowns, staring at the pictures of the lake and remembering Peter was born and raised in New York. “Wait, can you swim?”

“What — I — Mr. Stark, of course I can swim!” Peter sputters out, and Tony exhales an internal sigh of relief.

They won’t have to strike this house from the list, then.

“But wait, what do you mean?” Peter continues, quickly wringing his hands over his lap. “Why do you want my opinion on this?” His eyes look guarded still, but his head swivels between the two of them quickly, like he’s waiting for them to dash the hopes he doesn’t want to admit to having.

Ton’s mouth runs dry, and he shoots Pepper a panicked look.

His first instinct is to make a joke of it, of course, but this thing with Peter is… fragile. He doesn’t want to risk hurting the kid if he can help it, but sometimes hurting people seems to be all he can do.

Blessedly, Pepper is there to look at him encouragingly, with that gentle but forceful smile that makes Tony feel like he could accomplish anything, and he sighs.

His heart pounds in his chest, and he wipes his hands on his thighs. Ugh, why are they so sweaty?

“I told you,” he repeats, and the words stick in his mouth like honey, only less sweet and not as pleasant (so nothing like honey, really), “you can come and stay with me. Us. With us.” He chuckles nervously and looks away, keeping his gaze firmly between Pepper and Peter so he can pretend he doesn’t notice how they’re reacting. “I know it’s not the same, but you should have a place to stay. A house.”

A home, he doesn’t say, and winces quietly.

“You don’t have to, of course,” Pepper interjects kindly. “Not if you’d rather stay here. But Tony insisted we offer you a choice, and I obviously agree with him.”

Tony’s ‘Lies and slander!’ quipped retort dies on his lips as he takes in Peter’s quickly watering eyes.

“You really don’t have to!” he blurts out, awkwardly trying to pat the kid on the back and ignore the panic bubbling in his chest. Tony’s brain is already caught on a loop of the past few minutes, wondering what he could (and should) have done differently to avoid leading them here, and it makes him want to break out in hives.

He forces himself to stay very still, and keeps patting the kid on the back instead, mumbling out rapid nonsense he can feel Pepper growing increasingly confused by as she too tries to comfort the kid.

“No, no,” Peter says through his tears. “I want to. I mean, if you do.” He heaves a trembling sigh, fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt. “It’s just… If I say yes, it’d mean… it’s mean…”

He can’t finish the thought, but Tony gets it anyway. His mouth goes dry, and he shoots Pepper another panicked look.

Luckily, Pepper is still infinitely better than him at feelings.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, shifting until she can gently pull Peter into a hug, “I’m sure your aunt wouldn’t blame you for anything. She’d want you to be safe — and this doesn’t have to be forever. It can be as temporary as you want it to be,” she adds.

Tony’s heart aches as Peter keeps crying. He doesn’t know what he says — something about building the kid another house, or giving him an apartment if he’d rather, or, or anything he’d like, really, until Peter’s tears subside and get replaced with a more familiar panic as he tries to keep Tony from spending his money on him.

Not that he’s ever been very successful with that, but for some reason, the kid keeps trying.

“I think a room will be enough, Tony,” Pepper says, his eyes laughing at him, and Peter nods emphatically.

He chuckles wetly, leaning out of Pepper’s embrace (which, why would anyone ever want to do that?) and wiping off his cheeks with a sniffle. “Yes, please, Mr. Stark, I don’t need a house. What would I even do with that?”

Tony shrugs. “What do people do with houses? I’m sure you’d manage.” A sharp look from Pepper has him pouting as he sighs. “But fine, a room. You can have a room. A great room. The best room.”

As he’d hoped, it draws out another wet chuckle from Peter, and something inside Tony’s chest eases, just a little.

Yeah, maybe the world has ended, but they’re still here. Still alive — and if they can still smile and laugh sometimes, then maybe there’s hope still.

Hope that they’ll get through this somehow.

They’re all gathered in the kitchen, eating pasta that tastes kind of like ash even though Tony knows they’re great, when his phone rings.

“Oh thank god,” he hears Natasha whisper in a cough as the ringing breaks through the awkward silence.

Tony had meant to have this dinner as a sort of celebration to Peter agreeing to move in with them — you know, when they eventually move out — but whatever celebratory mood they’d had had fizzled out very quickly after he’d made his announcement.

Weathering Steve’s guilty and sad eyes gives him hives still, and Tony hates it. You should be guilty, he thinks bitingly as he stabs his fork into his pasta, and regrets it instantly.

Luckily, he never said anything out loud so he doesn’t have to apologize either.

“Friday? Who’s calling?” Tony hastily swallows his last bite, nearly choking on it in his haste. If it’s someone from the company who somehow got around Pepper…

(“How are they calling?” Steve interjects confusedly in the background, easy to ignore. “I thought the phone lines were still, you know, mostly down?”

“It’s Tony,” Natasha whispers back, and her tone is as always perfectly balanced between amusement, disdain and ‘this is obvious’ as she says his name.)

Friday takes a second to answer, which means she’s surprised, and Tony’s heart starts to race again.

Please don’t let it be more bad news. They can’t take those again right now.

“The call seems to be originating from a Mr. Keener,” Friday finally replies.

Tony staggers to his feet. “What?” His voice sounds strangled to his ears — is he panicking again? Hallucinating? “Keener? Harley Keener?”

“Yes, boss. Should I connect the line?”

Pepper’s hand finds his and squeezes, and Tony takes in a deep gulp of air. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Friday doesn’t answer, but there’s a click, and then silence for a moment before the kid’s voice comes through.

“Mr. Mechanic? Is this working? Your robot lady said it would be.”

Tony closes his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed. He squeezes Pepper’s hand back and clears his throat. “Yup, it is. And I’ve told you, Friday’s not a robot lady, she’s an AI, they’re much, much better.”

Harley’s voice breaks off into a sob before steadying. Tony hears him saying something, a thank you maybe, but his ears are ringing too loudly to hear it clearly.

He barely registers the rest of the Avengers quickly clearing out the room, leaving only Pepper, Peter and him behind.

Tony clears his throat again, and is pretty proud of the way it barely shakes.

God, but he’d barely thought about Harley before now. Hadn’t dared to let himself think about it, because what if…

And now Harley’s calling him despite phone lines still being down for pretty much anything not emergency services-related, and of course he is.

Of course he is. The kid’s too brilliant by half, and he wouldn’t have let this go. Only if he’s calling…

If he’s calling, it means he’s probably alone.

His throat goes tight and he exchanges a panicked look with Pepper, who stares back steadily with glistening eyes. He looks to Peter too, and the boy looks confused but also kind of happy — does he know who Harley is? Tony had had vague plans to introduce them, before, but he can’t remember if those plans had been anything real or if they’d still just been in his head.

“Are you…” okay sounds stupid, because of course the kid isn’t okay — nobody is right now — so Tony cuts himself off and says instead, “How are you?”

“Alive,” Harley retorts bluntly, and there is a world of pain in that word that lances through Tony’s chest like knives.

“Your —”

“I’m the only one,” Harley cuts him off, and Pepper’s hand squeezes his so tightly Tony thinks he hears his bones scream.

“I’m sorry,” he hears himself say, and it’s not enough, it could never be enough, but it’s the best he can think to say.

“Do you need anything?” he adds after a breath, rallying because he’s Tony Stark, and he may not have saved the world this time — the universe — but he’ll be damned if he lets this kid down even more after everything.

“Can I — I mean, I’m coming over. Where are you?”

Harley’s determined tone startles a laugh out of him, though Tony doesn’t know why he’s surprised, really. Harley’s tough as nails — tougher, really — and he unfortunately already knows how welcome he is in Tony’s space.

(Kids. Give them an inch, they’ll take an arm.)

“We’re at the Avengers compound, Harley,” Pepper, the saint, replies, already working on a tablet she’d materialized from… somewhere to organize an itinerary, no doubt complete with everything the kid might need or want. “We’ll send someone to pick you up,” stressing out the ‘someone’ while glaring at Tony with her so help me god glare.

Which, unfair. He’d only just begun to think about going to pick up the kid himself.

Besides, Tony’s smart. He knows he’d probably still collapse halfway there if he went, and maybe traumatize the kid further that way (odds are fifty-fifty though, because Harley’s still the kid who basically shocked him back to life once after watching people nearly explode). 

He’s learned from his mistakes, okay. He knows his limits.

(Mostly.)

He can be reasonable.

I can be reasonable, he mouths at Pepper, still talking to Harley, and Pepper rolls her eyes back at him.

Sure you are, she mouths back, and Tony turns to Peter in betrayal, only to find the kid muffling his snicker into his sleeve.

He still looks dumbstruck, and worn out around the edges, but the glint of amusement in his eyes does just as much to lift Tony’s spirits than hearing Harley’s voice had.

He lets the conversation wash over him after that, interjecting here and there when Harley quips a little too much, or when he seems like he’s heading toward dangerous territory (his sister, or his mother, mostly, especially when Pepper tells him he can pack whatever he wants in his house or they can get someone else to do it for him if he’d rather not), and before he knows it, the conversation’s over.

Harley hangs up with his characteristic “See you later” but Tony hears the thanks and the relief in his voice, and he exchanges another long look with Pepper, who looks back to Peter pointedly.

Which, right. Shit.

Tony turns to the other kid (his other kid? shit, has he acquired two kids now? who thought that was a good idea?), wincing a little.

“So… That was Harley,” he says, and his words kind of abandon him there, which is the worst. Tony’s usually great at words.

Peter nods. He seems happy-ish still, but also… smaller. “Is he… Nevermind.”

Tony arches an eyebrow at him. “No, come on, don’t do that, I want to hear. What’s up?”

Peter’s cheeks flush red and he starts picking at his sleeve. He clears his throat. For some reason, he glances at Pepper before looking away, but when Tony turns toward her she only looks amused.

“Is he, you know, yours?” Peter’s voice squeaks over the last words and he looks like he’d like the ground to open up and swallow him, or perhaps like he’d like the Snap to take him away right there (whoops, too soon, even for Tony’s own terrible sense of humor).

There is a moment where Tony’s brain doesn’t compute — yours? what, why, how — and then it does, and he sputters, choking on his own spit.

“I — What — No! No — Pete, Petey, have you been reading the tabloids? I told you not to believe those, they’re trash.” Trash’s too kind a word, even, but it suffices for now. “I don’t have kids.”

Peter’s face, if possible, seems even redder as he apologizes, but Tony just waves it off.

“It’s fine. Kid just helped me out a few years back, and I’ve kind of been keeping an eye on him — he’s smart, can’t have him go to the competition.”

“I… see,” Peter replies, in a tone that makes it very clear he does not see at all.

Despite himself, Tony’s lips quirk up into a small grin. “You’ll get on fine, I think.” He hopes, anyway. Peter’s great, of course, and he’ll probably befriend anyone, and Harley's obviously also great, but slightly more… caustic.

Well, if anything, they can bond over how amazing Tony is.

Harley arrives with the sun two days later, Happy on his heels with a ratty suitcase fit to burst.

His eyes are red-rimmed as he walks in, and he doesn’t even have the decency to look impressed to be standing in the Avengers compound. Truly, the youth of today.

“You look like crap, Mechanic,” he says as he steps in, and Steve’s feet jerk as he aborts a step forward.

He looks almost constipated with the need to correct the kid’s language — even though Steve’s mouth is the dirtiest of them all — and that, just as much as Harley’s own words and Peter’s shocked face makes him laugh.

It’s the first time Tony really laughs since… Everything.

“Well, you haven’t changed,” he replies with a snort, and steps up to tuck the boy against his side in a half-hug he’ll pretend hasn’t happened in a few seconds.

Or minutes, minutes are good too.

I’m glad you’re alive, he doesn’t say — mostly because the words stick in his throat and give him hives already, but also because he thinks the kid might cry more if he says them, and Tony can’t handle tears right now.

He’ll start crying too if Harley does, and then everyone else will cry because they’re all hanging on by a thread right now, and if they all collapse Tony’s not sure they’ll all manage to get back up again.

So he doesn’t say anything, and lets the kid go instead.

It’s okay, though. Harley’s there, and Peter’s here, and so’s Pepper. Even Happy’s around, and if Rhodey wasn’t out there trying to save whatever remains of their world while Tony tries to piece himself back together again, then all the people he loves would be in one place.

He has been, Tony realizes with a belated kind of horror, lucky.

Really lucky, that he gets to have this.

And soon, he might even have more — a proper house for his family, with two rooms for the boys (because of course they’re taking Harley home with them too now that he’s here — social services might come knocking around at some point but they’re probably as overworked as every other public service office).

Maybe he’ll really retire this time, too. He should, at least, because what good is a hero who couldn’t save anyone?

What good are the Avengers, is Iron Man, when Tony couldn’t stop Thanos before it was too late, and couldn’t even help stop him after?

What good is one man, when the universe itself got broken in half?