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Published:
2021-02-13
Updated:
2021-06-25
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STARKER, by Peter B. Parker

Summary:

After Peter’s identity has been compromised, he runs to the only place he can think of, as memory-filled it may be. He may be alone, but the loneliness was something he’d worked on becoming accustomed to. And it was something he could fix, given the right technology.

Lucky for him, that tech fit right in the palm of his hand.

Chapter 1: Fix-It

Summary:

warnings/tags: Peter is 17, set directly after FFH, canon death mention, canon divergence, inappropriate use of Stark tech

Notes:

A/N: SO excited to finally share this with everyone!! It started as a WandaVision-fueled concept and turned into a whole ass fic. We’re absolutely obsessed and we hope you guys love it as much as we’re loving writing it!!

The plan is to update weekly on Saturdays.

<3 bloo and bri

Chapter Text

Peter’s eyes were wide as he crouched on top of the lamp post and stared at the screen, stunned. This couldn’t be happening. Not here, not now. 

It had to have been an illusion. It wasn’t real. Right? 

His brain was racing, thoughts moving too quickly to keep up with what was going on. 

His name was said. His real name. The name ‘Peter Parker’ didn’t just belong to a nobody anymore. 

It belonged to Spider-Man. 

Which meant it belonged to the public. The public who blindly believed that he was a murderer. 

His body moved before he could think about what he was doing, swinging over the crowds that stared at him in shock. He ignored the sound of MJ calling his name from below, desperate to get away. And it would be better for her if she wasn’t associated with him. She’d be safe if people didn’t know. 

People yelled, their voices coupled with the sounds of the city pushing him towards overstimulation. They were angry, throwing things in an attempt to knock him down. But nothing got high enough. He stayed well above everyone, breathing heavily. He felt like he was going to pass out.

His eyes flitted around, glancing at all the buildings around him, all the possible routes, without really focusing on any of them. Where was he going? He couldn’t go home; there was no way he could face May. It was guaranteed that she’d seen the clip already and he didn’t want her to be super worried about him. He couldn’t do that to her. Not when things had finally started looking up for her, not when she finally seemed truly happy again.

Ned’s house wasn’t an option either. His best friend’s parents had a shaky opinion of Spider-Man last time he’d heard and he didn’t want his entire friendship to fall apart there. 

He definitely couldn’t involve Michelle in this. They had pretty much moved on from their ill-fated attempt at romance that ended when she couldn’t deal with the nightmares he still had, but he wasn’t over it enough for that to be a viable option. 

His brain screamed one name but his heart ached over the mere thought. He could only imagine one way for this to be okay, for him to ever feel truly okay again. It wasn’t even a possibility anymore and he knew it. But that didn’t make the pain any less excruciating.

No matter how much he wanted it to happen, Tony couldn’t save him from this. 

The reality tugged at his heart and stole the breath from his lungs. He had to pause on top of a building, perched on the ledge so he could easily take off again if he needed to. 

It had been almost nine months since the man had died. Since he’d saved everyone else and sacrificed himself. But it still hurt Peter like the wound was fresh.

He knew that the move had to be made. Someone had to do it. 

But god, he wished he had been the one to take the fall. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t regret not getting the gauntlet from Mr. Stark before he snapped. 

Maybe his motives were purely selfish. Because any time he considered the idea, it wasn’t for the good of everyone else. 

He just didn’t like living in a world without Tony Stark.

Peter heard someone opening the door that led to the rooftop and he bolted again, not needing to be caught. But he still needed to figure out his destination. 

Then it clicked. A real possibility. Even though he’d have to do more than swing to get there. 

The compound upstate. 

It was almost completely in ruins when he’d last seen it, destroyed by Thanos and his army. And it wasn’t likely it was too much better since the person funding it….

Well, he couldn’t be in charge of the upkeep anymore. Peter didn’t even like thinking about that part of it. 

But he’d be able to hide there for a while, at least. Completely unbothered. There weren’t too many people that knew about the exact location or how to get there. So he’d be safe while everything cooled down. 

He could use some time alone anyways. 

In order to get there, he’d need to drive. But he didn’t exactly have access to a car. And it was highly unlikely he’d be able to get an Uber while everyone thought he was a murderer. 

There was one person he knew he could trust. Although Peter wasn’t sure he wanted to pull him into everything. 

But he really did need a ride. He had to get out of the city. There was no other option.

“Karen? Can you call Happy for me?” 

“Of course, Peter.”

There was a dialing noise for a few seconds before the call picked up. 

“Peter? Where are you?” Happy was as harsh as ever as soon as he picked up. 

Peter swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I need a favor. Please, I need a ride to get out of town. I can’t deal with all of this. Please.” His voice cracked pitifully on the last word. 

A moment of silence before a heavy sigh crackled through the speakers in his mask, the sharp sound making him wince. “May wants you to come home. She’s kind of freaking out here, she just saw the news.”

Peter chewed his lip, his eyes dropping to the crowds in the street below. They were all watching him, phones trained on his every move. The feeling of their eyes on him made his skin crawl. “I can’t. Tell her I’m sorry, but I can’t go home. Not right now. Not yet.” 

Happy didn’t say anything for a minute, but Peter could hear May’s frantic plea in the background. He felt horrible. But he couldn’t go back. Nearly everyone in the whole city was against him. He couldn’t deal with that. And he didn’t want May to have to figure everything out for him. 

Finally the other man spoke again. “I can’t help you. It’s not that I don’t understand, it’s the principle. I’m not helping you run away.”

“I’m not-“

“You are. It doesn’t matter the circumstance. You’re running away. And I’m not going to be a part of it. Just come home, Peter,” Happy told him, his voice gentler then the young man had ever heard it. 

“Karen, end call.” In a brief moment of anger, Peter hung up. He knew Happy and May were right. But he just couldn’t go home. He was already sick of being leered at and the broadcast had just gone live. It would only get worse. 

And he still didn’t have a ride. 

A heavy sigh left him, the sound accurately conveying his sheer exhaustion. 

The directions to the compound were something he knew well, he’d probably be able to instruct someone there in his sleep. That wasn’t the issue. It was just so far and without a ride it would take forever. 

Maybe a run would do him good. A very, very long run. 

***

He’d made an extremely brief stop before leaving the city, buying a set of civilian clothes (even though that didn’t matter, where he was going), a small backpack to hold everything, and enough food for approximately two weeks. It wasn’t the most nutritious stuff, but it was something he could survive on until he felt safe enough to go back home.

After that, it took a few hours for him to finally reach the compound site, but at least he hadn’t been spotted. Most of his escape had been through woods, so despite the fact that he was now an extremely recognizable face, no one saw him. Or tried to come after him, at least. 

The sun had set, only the barest bit of orange still hanging above the horizon as he walked up to the damaged building. At least it wasn’t quite as bad as he’d remembered. 

It was completely destroyed in some places, while others were just crumbling. It seemed like someone had tried to fix bits and pieces, but eventually just gave up. No longer was it the beautiful campus that Tony created. But it would do for what he needed. 

Peter headed to one of the more intact areas, breathing heavily as he finally was able to relax. No more running to try and get to his destination as fast as possible. He was there and he could finally calm down. 

No one else was within miles of the place. He was safe. 

But it was so lonely. That was par for the course, though, he supposed. He’d been feeling lonely for a while now, despite the best attempts of those around him.

He decided to settle down in one of the old training rooms. It was probably one of only spaces still mostly together. The roof hadn’t been displaced at all, the walls only had the slightest bit of charring. The space was huge, but a lot of it was taken up by pieces of furniture and equipment. At least it didn’t feel extremely empty. 

He sat on the ground, eyes slipping shut as he leaned his head against the wall. It was almost nice to be able to just sit and not be worried about being caught. 

Almost. 

The silence screamed at him, amplifying his anxious thoughts and nearly suffocating him. 

Having someone to talk to would have been nice. But who was he supposed to talk to? He still felt bad about hanging up on Happy, so he wasn’t a choice and neither was May. Ned would probably make things worse, despite just wanting to help, so he couldn’t do that either. Thinking about MJ just made him feel guilty, so she was off limits too. 

No, if he was honest with himself, there was only one person he really wanted to talk to. 

The thought took him by surprise all over again, grief clenching around his heart like a vice grip. 

Tony would know what to do. He’d be able to easily get Peter out of the insane situation, fixing everything all up again and making it all right. He’d gotten himself out of plenty of messes, why would this be different? 

For just a moment, Peter smiled to himself as he imagined how Mr. Stark would have handled everything. None of it would have felt so grave. There would have been a joke or two made before he worked his magic and made Peter safe again. It would have been over and forgotten about before dinner. 

Then reality sunk in again, as it always did. 

Tony wasn’t there to help. He couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be ever again.

Peter didn’t like thinking about the fact that he was gone, but if he didn’t tell himself that it was true, that it had really happened, then he’d get hope again and fall apart. He didn’t have the luxury of falling apart when everything was already such a mess. 

As a distraction, he began sorting through the backpack he’d gotten, taking out every item and looking it over. Then he got to the front pocket and remembered the last thing he had tucked inside. 

Since getting them back, Peter didn’t go anywhere without the EDITH glasses. He’d made the mistake of giving them to someone else before, a mistake he was clearly going to keep paying for. He couldn’t let anyone else get a hold of them again. 

He slowly pulled them out, holding onto them for a moment and looking at them. His last gift from Tony. An extremely powerful gift that probably should have been given to someone else. But they weren’t. They were his, for better or worse. 

Their full capabilities hadn’t really been something he’d thought about. He didn’t know much of anything about them, really. He knew they had an AI that had absolutely no chill and could control drones, but that was about it. 

Peter hadn’t considered what the drones could actually do. The projections that Beck created had been intense and so real, it was hard to believe that he held the power to such a thing in his hands. 

If entire beings and monsters could be created, what else could they do? 

A sudden thought appeared, prodding at the grieving part of his brain. What were the limits of the projections? How much could they create? 

How real could the illusions get? 

Letting himself fantasize about possibilities was dangerous and he knew it. But just messing around with the technology wouldn’t be so bad, right? He was just going to familiarize himself with it some more. See what it was capable of. 

For the night, however, he needed to sleep. It had been an exhausting day and his eyelids were heavy. The floor wasn’t the most comfortable place ever, but it would do for the first night. 

He was asleep within minutes of laying down, dreams of bringing Tony back comforting him. Fantasy was dangerous, no matter how he tried to excuse it. 

But maybe it didn’t have to stay just a fantasy. 

***

Peter slowly slid the glasses on, breathing shakily. His stomach was churning anxiously. He was still reeling from yesterday’s events and what they meant for him. 

But at least now he had an idea, something to focus on, to keep him from getting trapped in a downward spiral.

“Hello, Peter,” EDITH greeted, voice soothing as always. 

“Hey, um-“ he raked a hand through his hair. What was he doing? He didn’t have a plan. He had no idea what to ask, or how to ask it without sounding crazy. 

EDITH, as intuitive as they came, seemed to sense his pause. “What do you need help with today, Peter?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Swallowed down the lump in his throat. “So...you know how Be- how Mysterio used the drones?” It was probably awful phrasing given everything that had happened. But it was his only frame of reference for the tech’s use first-hand. “Can I do that? The...the pictures and all. Projections.”

“Yes, Peter. You have access to each of those systems. Would you like to call them here?” 

He sucked in a harsh breath. That was something. Maybe… “I...yeah. Please.” He knew the vast majority of the drones had been destroyed in the battle on the bridge. But he was sure that, in true Tony Stark fashion, there were more out there somewhere. Mr. Stark was nothing if not prepared. 

Peter knew that the drones could create projections, illusions, elaborate scenes that were impossible to tell from reality. But he didn’t just want to see . He wanted to feel, too. 

“EDITH? Can you run me through the programming you run on? Basics, advanced, everything in between.” He certainly had the time to go over it all. 

“Of course, Peter.”

He had all the time in the world to figure things out, as far as he was concerned. And once he understood how the tech worked, he could bring his questionable plan to life. Piece of cake. 

***

As requested, EDITH filled him in on everything. Her own coding and controls, as well as the tech she was based on, BARF (the name never failed to force a hint of a smile to his lips). He had a pretty good understanding of how it worked, especially after watching a video of the presentation Tony gave at MIT. 

BARF allowed the wearer of the glasses to access their hippocampus and project their memories. Though Tony always maintained that the tech was intended to be therapeutic and assist in healing from past traumatic events, Beck had obviously allowed for the projection of whatever the wearer desired.   

In this case, if it worked correctly, whatever Peter desired.

Since he wanted to be able to actually feel the illusion, he’d have to alter the programming to interact with other parts of his brain. Namely the parietal lobe, which was responsible for tactile sensory information. 

Shouldn’t be too hard.

***

Peter slipped the glasses on again. “Hi, EDITH,” he started, biting his lip. Was he really going to do this?

“Hello, Peter. What can I help you with?”

“Run program: STARKER.” He’d slipped some of his own programming into her code in order to do what he wanted. No turning back now. He closed his eyes and prayed to whoever was listening that it worked. 

It had to work. 

He thought of the only place he wanted to be right now. The place where he’d always felt at home.

When he opened his eyes again, he watched as pixels began to overtake the room, going from the ground up as everything fell into place around him. In a passing thought, he noted that it was similar to watching the smooth ooze of the nanobots that made up his Iron Spider suit. Then suddenly he wasn’t in a bare, badly destroyed training room. He was in Tony’s penthouse at the tower. 

And he wasn’t the only one. The sight of his own illusion startled him, left him feeling disoriented. Illusion-Peter blinked at him blankly since he wasn’t thinking of anything in particular for him to do. It was...unsettling, looking at himself. Could he-

Closing his eyes again, Peter swallowed. He thought of his illusion, seeing things from his point of view- 

When he opened his eyes again, he could no longer see himself. Much better. Now he was still able to see, feel, and interact with everything in the illusion without having to watch it play out like a movie, the way Tony had in that video. It was just like real life.

He looked at his surroundings again. 

The window-wall in front of him looked out over the city, and the sun was shining brightly. To his left was a bar, and the elevator was to the right, sandwiched between two staircases, one of which went up and the other down. Peter’s eyes were wide as he slowly turned around, trying to take it all in. The amount of detail was incredible. He hadn’t realized how much of this place he remembered. The little conversation pit was there, complete with the semi-circle couch and the fireplace he’d seen in a photo spread years earlier. Everything screamed Tony, from the decor to the coffee and whiskey scented air. 

But despite the astonishing realism, it still felt so empty. The space felt wrong. Incomplete.

There was definitely something missing. Or someone. 

Peter chewed his lip, closing his eyes as he focused. Nervous energy was churning in his stomach. “Come on, EDITH,” he mumbled. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. This was it, the make it or break it moment. “Do your thing.” 

Everything was silent for a moment and Peter was worried that it hadn’t worked. His heart skipped a beat, thudding painfully in his chest. Maybe all the work he had put in meant nothing since it hadn’t originally been part of the program. 

But slowly the pixels started again, building a figure up seemingly out of nowhere until it formed a full person. 

The only person he wanted to see right now.

Tony blinked, a bit disoriented before he glanced over and saw Peter. He shot his signature cocky half-smile towards the young man. “Hey, kid. What did I miss?”

Peter let out a choked sound, a mix between a sob and a borderline-hysterical laugh. “Tony,” he rasped. 

And suddenly everything felt okay again.