As soon as Fury told him about the multiverse, the idea was there. The thought. It slowly built, though it was gaining momentum, until all he could do was think about Tony. About Cap and the scary spider lady. About everyone who died or who had been changed. Somewhere out there existed another Tony. Many other Tonys. And Peter knew it was stupid, knew they weren’t his Tony, but... the chance to see him, to see them again... it wouldn’t leave him alone.
So, honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprised to find himself in this situation. He’d followed Mysterio straight back into the man’s universe, straight to the Avengers Compound, and right on into… this.
Peter was staring, wide-eyed, at a whole host of Avengers spread out in front of him. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was.
His heart was also breaking all over again.
Because he couldn’t find Tony.
There was Wanda, and a rather… green Vision at her side on the book bench. They were curled around each other, heads close together as they stared at him, book held between them, as if they had only moments before been reading together.
There was King T’Challa, speaking with Bruce—back in his human body—and Rhodey at the kitchen counter. They were continuing their discussion, but all three of them had slowed the motions of their food preparation as they took surreptitious glances at the newcomer.
There was Cap and his friend Bucky, sitting close together on the couch closest to him. As Peter took a few more steps forward at Mysterio’s urging, he rounded the couch and saw that their hands were linked together on Bucky’s thigh and—no, nope, no way, he was not looking that closely of course he wasn’t. It’s just—well, he’d been right! He’d told Ned that he could’ve sworn, but then… well, his Cap had gone back to Agent Carter and left his friends behind and…
Peter desperately suppressed his blush and was simply glad he hadn’t been speaking—he hadn’t, right? The two of them stared at him curiously, but there was only a hint of recognition in their eyes as Bucky settled his cheek on Cap’s shoulder.
Hadn’t Mysterio said that his world’s Peter Parker had died? Oh, well… yeah, that was really sad.
“Who’s this?”
And then, of course, there was Carol. He’d recognize that voice anywhere!
She looked exactly the same, but the lack of recognition in her eyes as she swept them over him was enough to make him want to cry. He hadn’t known Carol before she’d arrived at what was essentially the end of the world, that final battle with Thanos and their resurrection from the Snap. But after, she’d been a huge part of his life. She’d spent so much time with him and Pepper and Morgan and Rhodey that she’d become like a second family.
But it looked like here, at least, they had never met.
It made things so much worse, her not recognizing him.
Yet all of that fell by the wayside when someone shot to their feet just to the left of the woman who was and wasn’t Carol. He couldn’t take in the others who were there, the ones he hadn’t gotten to yet in his sweep of the room. He couldn’t, because… because…
Those same brown eyes that haunted his sleep were staring at him, wide and blinking away the start of tears, from out of a face that held so many similarities… and so many differences.
The room fell deafeningly quiet. Unnervingly still. Peter knew that they were staring at him, at them, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was—
“Tony?” Peter choked out, staggering just a little bit as his knees weakened.
Tony—the woman who looked so much like his Tony that it had to be him, her, whoever—lunged forward and caught him in her arms, wrapping him up in strength and comfort and love but in a way that was so Tony that it hurt even more and—
“Shh, don’t cry. Pe-Peter, don’t cry. Carol, Rhodey-bear, why is he crying, why won’t he stop, I don’t know how to handle kids crying, please help!”
And suddenly Peter was laughing and sobbing at the same time, burying his face in this universe’s equivalent of Tony Stark and letting his tears soak into the ratty t-shirt that seemed to be a universal constant for them right alongside the awkward babbling and the hugs that felt like home.
This wasn’t home, not his, and he wasn’t their Peter Parker, but for now—as he felt another set of arms wrap around him, and then another, and voices he recognized and loved and missed comforting him in hushed tones—for now, this was enough to soothe his soul. To soothe the ache and the emptiness. Similar enough to his own universe to offer comfort, but different enough that it didn’t lull him into false expectations.
He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, or even the next minute, but for now… for now he’d take each second as they came.
For now, he could let this feel like home.