Peter wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about this shifting dimensions thing. On one hand, it was incredibly cool. Definitely one of the top three coolest things that had ever happened to him. It was one thing to see the multiverse in action, to have two other Peter Parkers and a bunch of their enemies show up in his own world, and another thing entirely to find himself in an entirely different dimension. Not even a parallel Earth, but a whole different planet in a different realm, where magic was as common as technology. He wanted to find someone to ask about all of this. Someone who understood multi-dimensional travel and parallel worlds, and could explain how Vallo worked as a sort of way-stop for people who were pulled out of their own worlds.
On the other hand… well, leaving his own world was weird. Sure, he’d been to space, but there was always the knowledge that Earth and New York were somewhere in the universe. There wasn’t that here. But it wasn’t like he was giving much up by showing up here. He could be Spider-Man anywhere, really. Maybe he couldn’t check up on MJ, like he’d been doing; the last summer before she and Ned moved to Boston for MIT, but maybe that was better. Maybe he was just torturing himself, keeping an eye out on the people he loved who had no idea that he even existed.
A new start was probably exactly what he needed. A new start somewhere where no one knew him, not because he’d been magically erased from their memory, but because he hadn’t actually met them yet. A new start where he wasn’t constantly reminded of Tony Stark, or Aunt May, somewhere where he wouldn’t be tempted to loiter outside of MJ or Ned’s apartments, hoping to catch a glimpse of them.
His feet slowed as he passed a building that looked very familiar – more familiar than it had any right being. And then he stopped entirely when he saw the man who walked out the front door. His heart clenched. So much for new starts and no reminders.
He was staring, he knew, but he couldn’t stop until the man glanced over at him and caught his eye. Peter started, offered a friendly smile and a wave, like any friendly person on the street might to a complete and random stranger (okay, maybe not a friendly person in New York. Maybe more like… Canada. Or Vallo. Vallo seemed pretty friendly so far), and then forced himself to look away and continue down the street.
It was, honestly, supposed to be just a normal day in Vallo. But then again, normal was relative here, wasn’t it?
Stephen was up at his usual ungodly hour, and he did his morning katas when the sun began to rise - it was especially lovely this morning, looking like something slapped on the front of a bulletin announcing a funeral, which was morbid to think. But all of those pink and orange hues, peeking out from behind clouds, radiating so brightly - he appreciated it out in the Sanctum’s courtyard, where he’d also checked on Wanda’s garden and grabbed some more herbs to bring to the tea shop for newer blends.
He was dressed and on his way there when he suddenly saw - someone. Someone very familiar, even though he shouldn’t have been. But the memories slammed against his skull again and Stephen’s heart beat faster - it couldn’t be? Was it?
“Peter,” he breathed out as he approached - and he had no choice about doing so because the Cloak of Levitation was yanking him toward that destination anyway. “...hey kid. Did you just get here?” Sure, play it cool. Inside, he was screaming.
Peter couldn’t quite be sure that he actually heard Stephen say Peter, or if some hopeful part of his brain imagined it. He was certain that Stephen was talking to him though, and he froze, wondering, for a minute, what the best course of action here was.
It probably wasn’t running up to Stephen and hugging him and telling him how glad he was to see a familiar face here, even if the familiar face maybe didn’t recognize him, even if some part of Stephen clearly did, given the fact that he was talking to him.
Playing it cool was probably the best course of action. “Me?” Peter asked, voice squeaking a little. Maybe a little cooler. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah I just got here yesterday. You?”
Stephen probably hadn’t just gotten here yesterday, if the Sanctum was any indication. He’d been told sometimes it wasn’t people that came through to Vallo but things, and he wondered if th Sanctum had come through too, or if it was something that simply existed in every universe.
“I’ve been here about a year,” Stephen replied, and his voice was quavery. “But - we’re sort of in two places at once. Or more.” Because, right, multiverse - it was one oak tree, countless branches, foamy bubbles expanding with each bubble being its own universe; and to think that there was still so much they didn’t know about it. The concept had only just been introduced - and with a pretty hard slap across the face, like, wake up. This was your new problem, your life now. “I don’t know if the DOA gave you the whole explanation, I just - “
Alright, so much for playing it cool. The Cloak yanked him forward, and Stephen’s arms automatically shot out so he could catch himself (and Peter?), snatching him in a hug that Stephen really didn’t anticipate would be happening this morning. Here they were, however.
And his lashes dotted with tears - he’d cried a lot these past couple of days, when the new memories got dumped into his skull, a deluge that was a bucket of ice poured over him. “I’m sorry - I remember you,” he muttered. “I saw what happened, in a very long dream but it’s okay because I didn’t forget here.”
For a moment, Peter didn’t know what was happening. He obviously wasn’t being attacked – he hadn’t sensed any sort of danger – but it took him a moment to realize that he was being hugged. And then he was wrapping his arms around Stephen too, and then, before he had a chance to collect himself, he discovered that he was sobbing into Stephen’s chest, his grip tightening until it was too tight; he loosened it as soon as he realized with a quick “sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, this time because he was soaking Stephen Strange’s shirt and he couldn’t make himself stop. “It’s just been… With Aunt May and – and everything, and I haven’t had anyone to talk to, and it’s just been so…”
He wasn’t making much sense. He didn’t even know if Stephen knew about what had happened with Aunt May. He thought he’d been handling things pretty well. He’d been studying for his GED, and spending a lot of time as Spider-Man, keeping New York safe, and he’d been trying not to think about things, or about how alone he was, or about how much he wished he could talk to MJ or Ned or anyone, and he hadn’t cried once since Stephen had cast the spell. And yet here he was, completely overwhelmed by someone who knew who he – Peter Parker, not just Spider-Man – was.
Stephen didn’t mind the tearstains. He had gotten pretty decent at this hugging thing - especially when it came to teenagers who were emotional and needed A Supportive Adult. Rosalind had given him good practice, what with the time when she received her own memory dump and flung herself into his arms to cry because everything was shadows and sadness and funeral bells. He’d tried to help her. He wasn’t sure if he did - but he’d tried. And he’d try again now too.
He squeezed Peter in his embrace, patting his shoulder before letting go. Snot on his dress shirt was honestly the least of his concerns, and Cloak tentatively reached up with one end and used its fabric to wipe at Peter’s cheeks too (ever the caregiver, this sentient blanket). “Aunt May?” he repeated, because he didn’t know - but he got a bad feeling about it, and they didn’t need to go into detail right here on the street.
“Come inside,” he added, motioning to the Sanctum. “We can talk. You can talk to me - I’ll make you breakfast. You can even have a room here too. Whatever you want.” The thought of Peter staying in Morningside was ridiculous - not on his watch, thanks.
Peter didn't think he was ever going to get used to a cape that just went ahead and wiped his tears for him, and it was unfamiliar enough that it jostled his thoughts enough to come back to the present. Enough to stop him from dwelling too much on the Aunt May question. He wasn't sure how to talk about that, hadn't had the chance to yet, but knew he was going to need to. He followed Stephen in the Sanctum; it wasn't his first time here, but it was still new and mystical enough, especially in a different dimension, that he couldn't help but look around.
"A room in the Sanctum Sanctorum?" Peter asked. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great." Ned would flip. "So your cape, do you like, control it, or…?"
“It controls itself, really,” Stephen chuckled, low and deep, as he let them into the Sanctum (he’d remember to put Peter on the wards for sure) and headed for the kitchen. Ever since he’d been making moves to stock the fridge with things that were a bit more alien (food synthesized with efforts from Alex and Lena, and other tidbits that Thurvishar cooked up in the Lighthouse kitchen) the fridge demon had been tamed a little. Maybe it was just surprised and welcomed by the presence of space sushi or whatever it happened to be. “I found it years ago in the New York Sanctum - it doesn’t bond with people easily, but it chose me for some reason. It’s protected me ever since.” And had dried his tears too, after the Ancient One died on an operating table at Metro General - a bit of a mother hen cloak, in all actuality.
In addition to the weird, there was also more mundane Earth-based food in the Sanctum’s kitchen too - since Wanda still lived here and all, Rosalind stayed sometimes, and they had other guests. Hopefully Peter would wedge himself into this space too - already Stephen could feel the thrum and pulse of the mystical energy working, moving to accommodate; the Sanctum was tied to both him and Wanda, and it tended to reflect their moods as well.
Pancakes would be good, right? Kids liked pancakes. There was a canister of homemade dry pancake mix already prepared so he just grabbed that, and prepared to find a frying pan and wet ingredients. “No one is as far ahead on the timeline, they arrived here from before the spell was cast,” he added. “So everyone should recognize you. They’ll be glad to see you.”
“Oh, well, it’s a very nice cape. Friendly, I mean,” Peter said, awkwardly. It was a nice cape, but he wasn’t sure, really, how to react to the idea of sentient clothing. It made him think of what his suit might say if it could. Should he iron it more? He should probably iron it more.
“Is –” Peter started, and then stopped himself. “Who’s everyone?” he asked instead. And then, “You’ve been here for a year?”
Milk, where the hell was the - oh, right. The fridge tossed the half-gallon at him, along with the carton of eggs - and luckily he caught that in time so they didn’t have a yolky mess on the floor to deal with. The Sanctum was self-cleaning, but still. It would just be a waste of eggs, you damn persnickety fridge (living here was really fun, Peter probably couldn’t wait).
“About a year,” he confirmed. “There’s me - Carol. She really liked another, uh - version of you. Another Peter Parker, who was here for a bit. I think you met him before.” It was kind of like a brotherly bond from what Stephen understood - he’d only met one other version of himself, however, and that did not go well. “Wanda’s here. Sam Wilson. A version of Natasha. One of Tony too - uh.” He glanced at Peter, concern softening the ice blue of his eyes. “He’s pretty great. Still kind of an asshole but that’s just Stark for you.”
Then the Cloak yanked him back to keep making pancakes, like, stay on task. There was a kid to feed.
It was hard to stay blue when Stephen’s fridge was throwing things at him and his cape was yanking him around. He kind of hoped Stephen’s offer was genuine and not just a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, because it actually did look fun.
“There was another Peter Parker here?” Peter asked. He hadn’t missed the past tense. Part of him wished he was still here; it would have been nice to have another Peter to talk to. He felt like he hadn’t had enough time with either of the ones who’d come to his universe.
The rest of them, he didn’t really know. He’d met Carol, briefly, while they’d been fighting Thanos, and he’d sort of fought against Wanda and Sam in Germany, but he didn’t really know any of them.
Except for Tony. But not even Tony, really. He wondered if the Tony here knew any Peter Parker, or if he’d be a complete stranger. Was he happy here, and in his own universe, or did he…
“Do you want some help?” Peter asked. “I’m pretty good with pancakes.” And he felt more than a little awkward just watching Stephen getting dragged around the kitchen by his cape.
“Ah - sure,” Stephen chuckled, giving the batter a stir - it was all mixed together now, so they’d just need to figure out what size pancakes Peter wanted. And what shape - he was probably too old for pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse, with blobs for ears? Or something? “The pan’s ready, just come ladle out what size pancakes you want - I’ll put you in charge of that.”
He’d already had breakfast (something crunchy and not from this world - speaking of, he better warn Peter about what was in the fridge) but he could always go for more tea, so he generated enough Eldritch magic to heat the kettle easily enough, without having to wait. It was all orange sparks and symbols, rather than a slow boil. “But yeah - there was another Peter Parker here. I talked to him a couple of times. People sometimes go back home, and then they return to Vallo - they’re in and out. There’s no rhyme or reason to it.”
Hopefully this Peter Parker would be here to stay for awhile though. Stephen would likely get attached. “Oh, and - if you go into the fridge while living here there may be some weird stuff. Just - ignore it. It’s mine. I have kind of a unique diet these days.”
There were a hundred thousand things Peter wanted to ask – how this dreaming of things that happened worked, was that like, an ex-Sorcerer Supreme thing, or did that happen all the time? How had Stephen enjoyed Vallo so far? How did all of this work, except Peter was pretty sure even Stephen wouldn’t have the answers to that – but they all wanted to come out at once, so much that they all seemed to get jammed in his throat so thickly that none of them could come out.
Instead, he focused on the pancakes. It had been years since the last time he’d made pancakes. Before he’d even met Tony, he thought, but he wasn’t sure about that. He and May had made a lot of pancakes when he was younger though, especially right after he’d moved in with her. It was the one breakfast food she’d been completely confident about at the time. She’d been experimental with her cooking afterwards, sometimes successfully, sometimes with resounding failure, but they’d come back to pancakes often enough.
“May died,” Peter said, instead of any of the questions he wanted to ask. “She… Osborne killed her. And even if she knew what was going to happen, I think she would’ve wanted me to help all of them. But… but I keep thinking that maybe you were right. If we’d just sent them back in the first place, none of this would have happened.”
He was trying his best not to think of everything that he’d lost, had been trying to focus on the things that were still good: He could still be Spider-Man, and MJ and Ned were safe. More than safe, going to Boston for MIT. Spider-Man wouldn’t put them in danger anymore, and they could have normal lives. But more often that he’d liked to acknowledge, he thought about how he could be going to MIT with them if only he’d listened to Stephen, or hadn’t made Stephen cast the spell in the first place, or if he hadn’t stuck May in an apartment with five supervillains from other universes.
Every decision he’d made in the last few months, from trusting Beck to now, had been exactly the wrong one.
“Peter - “
Stephen unclenched the mug he’d pulled from the cabinet, moving to put his hand on the kid’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry about May.” People said that all the time I’m sorry, and it could sometimes be insincere - just something to say, because you were supposed to. However, he didn’t mean it like that now - whatever excuse for a squish that resembled his heart, in his chest, actually broke a little when he heard that.
“I think it’s great you wanted to help those people,” he said. “I - I’m just not used to thinking of it like that. I’ve always had to think of things in terms of the bigger picture.” Like when he had to make a decision - one out of over fourteen million, knowing that the universe would suffer for five years. Knowing that the path would lead to the deaths that he still felt remorse and guilt over -
He had to face it. Ever since the Blip, depression had been eating him up. Yeah, he’d been trying to find a way forward - but he’d lost his job, the woman he loved was with someone else, and it only felt like three seconds for him. Five years for everyone else who remained in the aftermath - and that was a lot to reckon with.
“I’m not sure if it’s a matter of which way of thinking is right or wrong, but - regrets aren’t for dwelling on anyway. We just have to mitigate the disaster. Or I will,” he smiled wanly. “I’m sure I will.” He wasn’t certain if the deaths of some of those ‘villains’ was an absolute point in time or not, in each ‘verse, but he did know what happened if absolute points in time were messed with - complete and utter chaos.
Peter wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand; he wasn’t crying, but he could feel his eyes burning, the bubbling pancakes blurring in his vision. “What can I say, I’m the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. I’m not really a big-picture kind of superhero.”
Maybe that was the problem. He kept getting mixed up in these huge, world-ending catastrophes, and maybe he just wasn’t cut out for that sort of thing. Maybe he should have stuck to catching bicycle thieves and helping little old grannies that bought him churros afterward.
He flipped the pancake, and felt a little twinge of pride when it flipped over to reveal a perfect golden brown. “You can deal with the big picture stuff, and I’ll handle the details.” And then he frowned. “Us being here… Is it because of what I did?”
“Sounds like a plan, kid,” Stephen agreed with a puff of air that was sort of bittersweet and amused. He also had to admit that he grappled a lot with it’s their fate - if that truly wasn’t their fate, to meet their end in somehow, or some way? If it was as easy as forcing some kind of cure on them to get them to ‘change their ways,’ then what was the point of knowing Tony would have to sacrifice himself to save the universe, as was fated according to one victorious timeline? That Natasha was going to do the same thing?
Stephen hated that. If he also went too far down that same rabbit hole, it led to a very dark place - and he was caught in enough darkness as it was.
He thought that dealing with the big picture stuff, while Peter kept it to a smaller circle, street level - that would probably work out best anyway. “And no, being here isn’t because of that - the waypoints have been pulling people here from various points of time for awhile,” he assured as he carefully poured himself some tea. “It just...happens. Most have given up on understanding why - we just take the time we have here, while we have it. That’s what I’ve been trying to do, anyway - and whatever you want to do here, you have me. And Wanda - we’re going to get married, actually, she lives here too. But like I said, whatever you want to do in Vallo - we’ll support that.”
“Everyone who came through to our world were from different points in time too,” Peter pointed out. But then, the’d all shown up at the same time. If Peter and Stephen had caused whatever this was, it seemed more likely that they’d have been some of the first to arrive – especially if Stephen hadn’t actually arrived knowing any of this.
He felt a knot in his stomach loosen a little, the gnawing feeling that somehow he was responsible for this too abating just a little.
“You’re getting married to Wanda? Congratulations! The last time I met her, she was throwing cars at me, but she seemed nice.”
They would definitely have been here first if this was all on them - but Vallo had been established for awhile. Centuries. The covens too, and just everything - Stephen could go on and on about that. “There was a little jaunt back in time with the time stone,” he went on, grabbing a plate for Peter to flip finished pancakes on. “We were able to learn more about the local coven who first established the waypoints and how they came to be - it was actually kind of interesting, but I’ll explain more about that later. We’re safe from multiversal cracks caused by us though, I promise.”
He snorted a laugh at the mention of Wanda throwing cars. Besides that, yes, he supposed she was very nice - they all had their moments during that Sokovia Accords debacle, from what he understood. He’d been elsewhere during all of that - it felt hazy, for some reason. “She’s very past the throwing cars stage,” he replied. “I think the only thing she’ll throw at you now is food.”
Not...literally. But she was very caring - even for her fiance who now had a weird diet; she tried to her best to accommodate that and he was very grateful.
Peter flipped the pancakes onto the plate. “Well, at least that will probably hurt less,” Peter said, shooting Stephen a grin. “Unless she bakes cookies like Happy. That might actually hurt more.”
He took the plate of pancakes, and looked around for a second plate, which he didn’t spot. “Did you want some too?” Peter asked.
“No, I’m good. I can’t eat them anyway - had a bit of a diet change,” Stephen said, but he brought his tea to the table in the kitchen where he’d keep Peter company. “Apparently spending Vishanti knows how long in a Dark Dimension timeloop means that it caught up to me eventually. My physiology’s different now, at least when it comes to digesting food.” No powers received from a radioactive spider bite or anything - no super strength or super agility. It was just Stephen, unable to digest his usual favorites.
But this was good. Peter would get to be someplace new, with people who remembered him - it must have been hard as hell to give all that up and take those next steps of Life alone, by yourself. But this way he’d have Stephen, and Wanda, and he could actually take the time to grieve for his aunt - Stephen would be supportive for every bit of that too.
“I’ll make sure to have plenty of things you can eat though. I’m glad to have you here.”
Wow, Peter had a lot of questions about that too, and he was absolutely going to pepper Stephen with them when he had the chance. For now though, he was content to limit his questions to enquiring after maple syrup and setting down to eat his pancakes.
“I… I think I’m glad I’m here too,” Peter said. He should probably be in New York, dealing with the consequences of his actions. But no one knew him there, he had no one he was responsible to. And the things he could do there – stopping crime, trying to protect people – those were all things he could do here, too. A city this size, there had to be crime in Vallo too.
“Thanks,” he said after a moment. “For the pancakes and for the… everything. Are you sure that it’s alright if I stay here? I can stay at Morningside. The apartments seemed really nice.” More like Happy’s apartment than the one he and May had lived in, and definitely nicer than the little one-room bachelor suite he’d just moved into back home. He could make it work if Stephen hadn’t actually meant to invite him.
Stephen’s eyebrows poked up as he sipped from the mug. “I’m positive,” he promised. “Morningside is nice but - the Sanctum’s already making a room for you here.” As if to emphasize that point, the cabinets in the kitchen all rattled as if in the home’s imitation of a belly laugh.
See? Nothing to worry about. Peter was very welcome here, and Stephen intended to keep that going for as long as Vallo allowed.