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Tony sighed, nabbing a glass of champagne from the bar and tossing it back in one undignified gulp. He stalked around the room in slow circles, faking smiles and engaging in painfully boring small talk.
He did not want to be here right now. Not at all. He didn’t want to be in this city, rubbing shoulders with high society people with questionable morals. He did not even want to be in this universe.
He might have preferred death to this new hellish second life. A life so similar to his first, yet devoid of everything and everyone that had made him love his life so much.
Waking up after his literal death to find himself in his beach house in California, and over a decade younger, and in the year 2010, was a shock. Realizing that the world he was in was both everything and nothing like his own was even more so.
It was like someone took the barest details of his original world and then took a creative writing class and decided to rewrite everything, adding and deleting certain things to their liking.
He was still Anthony Stark, son of Howard and Maria Stark, CEO of Stark Industries. He was still, Tony Stark, Genius, Billionare, Playboy, Philanthropist. He wasn’t Tony, best friend to James Rhodes, husband to Pepper Potts, father to Morgan Stark and Peter Parker. He wasn’t Iron Man.
The world was strange. There was still California, and New York. Stark Industries still existed (and still sold weapons when he first woke up, though he was quick to fix that) and was thriving. But there were other cities in the United States. Metropolis, Gotham, Star City, Bludhaven and Central City. More than he cared to remember or think about.
There were no Avengers, no S.H.I.E.L.D, no Hydra. No, in its place was a Justice League who fought more enemies than the Avengers had even thought about facing. The Justice League had more heroes too, they were pretty high in the double digits at this point.
Tony stayed far away from them. He stayed far away from anything that reminded him that this wasn’t his life, this wasn’t his world, and these weren’t his people.
It had been a lonely two years so far and sometimes he felt like giving up. Part of him already had at this point. Everything that made him him had been stripped from this world in a way that made him sick to his stomach.
He grimaced to himself as he set the champagne glass back on one of the trays as a waiter passed. He stumbled slightly as he made his way through the crowd, passing charming grins to all that looked his way.
They would never know him. Not that any of them really wanted to. He was a stranger to them and to this world. Even if whatever forces sent him here had also given him memories of a life here, he didn’t accept it.
This version of him had never had a Rhodey, or a Pepper, Happy, Peter, Morgan. Not even a Steve or Bruce or Natasha. He’d had a shitty father that liked to hit him and a loving mother who indulged a bit too much when it came to wine. He never grew up or changed or realized his mistakes. That wasn’t who he was. It couldn’t be. He’d made too much progress, changed too much to fall back into those ways.
It was easy to get lost in the mask of it though, much as he hated to admit it. Tony withheld a scoff as he pushed towards the edge of the room. He did not want to be here.
His eyes burned. He wanted to be at home with his wife and his kids who didn’t even exist anymore. Not anywhere he could reach them anyway.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, a face caught his attention in the crowd. Fluffy brown curls disappeared behind a group of people. Where did they go?
“Peter.” He breathed out, voice choked and desperate. There was… Who..? His eyes darted towards the instinctual feeling of being watched. It didn’t feel bad, though. It felt… familiar.
He spun around, trying to find the source of the feeling.
Maybe he was crazy, but he knew the feel of his kid watching him and he’d know those curls anywhere.
He was looking around a bit frantically now, when someone grabbed his arm. His head snapped up to find a man with bright blue eyes and a kind smile looking at him.
Dick Grayson. Former ward of Bruce Wayne. The vigilante Nightwing.
“Hi there!” The man chirped brightly, firmly in his Richie persona. “Stark, right?”
Tony’s eyes darted towards the direction he’d thought he’d seen Peter before he looked back at Dick. His eyes traced the lines of the man’s face, taking in the curve of his lips and the contrasting urgency in his eyes. “Um, yes. Richard Grayson, right?” He replied haltingly.
Dick’s grin was positively glowing now. “Aw, I’m so glad you recognize me! This would have been super awkward otherwise…” He blathered.
“I’m sorry, can I help you?” Tony cut in, all out of charm and patience.
Dick’s smile faltered for a split second before returning in full force. “I think we have a mutual friend.” He said brightly.
Tony’s heart skipped a beat. Could he mean..?
“He’d really like to see you. Says he used to intern for you or something. Let me tell you, he’s out of this world, that kid. But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Dick continued, a not so hidden meaning lacing the words.
Tony licked his dry lips, nodding slowly. “W-“ He cut off, clearing his throat as emotions choked him. “Where is he?”
Dick watched him curiously but not without suspicion. “Follow me.” He said brightly.
Tony would probably do anything for the smallest chance that he might see Peter again. Dick led him down a series of hallways, a seemingly endless journey given how restless Tony felt. He was seconds away from biting out a more vicious demand for answers when Dick approached a door and ushered him inside.
When nothing but an empty room greeted him, he spun around, venom burning on his tongue.
Then, there he was.
Different, younger than Tony had ever seen him, but unmistakably-
“Underoos?” He whispered, his chest feeling tight.
Peter’s previously composed face crumbled as soon as the silly nickname left Tony’s lips. Still, neither of them moved.
“Mr. Stark.” Peter wept, familiar brown eyes filled with tears.
They both sprang forward at the same time, bodies colliding so hard that they fell to the floor in a tangle to limbs. A grunt left him as Peter climbed into his lap and held him tightly, broken sobs leaving his lips as they embraced.
Tony blew out a breath and blinked back his own tears. He wrapped one arm around Peter’s back, pulling his a kid a bit closer while his free hand reached up to press Peter’s face into his neck.
He ruffled the boys curls, fingers getting tangled. Peter pulled back with a wince, looking up at Tony with stars in his eyes. He barely noticed as more and more Wayne’s entered the room, too caught up in the fact that Peter was here. His son was here.
“You’re here.” Peter choked out, sniffling grossly.
“I’m here, kiddo.” Tony confirmed, breathless with the reality of the situation. “I got you.”
“I can’t-“
“I know, bambino.” Tony shushed him. Everything could be explained later. It would all be okay now.
No matter what, as long as he had his kid by his side, he’d be okay. They’d be okay.
He held on a bit tighter. Peter only squeezed back, smiling like he understood. Given where he was, perhaps he did.
Tony didn’t care what the reason was, he was just glad Peter was really here. His Peter. No, he was ecstatic, actually.
Holy shit.
Peter was here.
Peter was here!
Thank. God.