Work Text:
The tension in the air has just begun to settle when Peter hears, “Why would I put eggs in you?”
He jumps about eight good feet into the air (thank you, low gravity and spider powers), involuntarily letting out a sharp cry of surprise. When he turns around he only sees the girl with the antenna, Mantis, staring at him with huge black eyes.
Peter clears his throat, trying and failing to regain his composure. “Sorry— um, what’d you say?”
“Earlier,” Mantis tells him with an awkwardly placed hand gesture. “You said, ‘please don’t put your eggs in me’. Two times.”
“Oh. Oh, that,” Peter says sheepishly. Somehow he feels almost guilty for letting something so stupid— and potentially offensive, apparently— slip out of his mouth while he’d been frantically scrabbling away from her. “I just— I didn’t know what you were, see— or I didn’t know who you were, whether you were working for Thanos, and so I automatically assumed you were an alien, and when you started coming towards me I just— I—”
“I am an alien,” Mantis says with a slightly confused frown.
“Huh?”
“So are you.” She points at him when she says this. Peter blinks dumbly down at her outstretched finger. “You are from Earth. We are not. So you are an alien to all of us, too.”
Peter mulls that over for a long moment. Her bug-like eyes do not leave his face; it’s strangely invasive, a bit uncomfortable, yet somehow not threatening. When words fail to form themselves coherently in his mind, he finally just settles for a small, “Oh.”
Mantis’ face suddenly contorts in a strange way, her jaw drawing back, and she bares her teeth at him. Her eyes grow beady and thin. Peter makes a small noise of alarm, his heart rate escalating as he takes a small, subconscious step back.
Mantis instantly reverts back to her previous state, glassy-eyed and confused. “Did I scare you?”
“I— what were you just…?”
“It is called smiling ,” Mantis explains.
“Oh,” Peter says breathlessly. Don’t stare, he chides himself internally, but wouldn’t it be kind of rude to look away at this point? His mind raced over his options— stare, ignore her— finally he lets a small, tentative smile spread on his face. Mantis, unsurprisingly, returns it, and Peter braces himself so he doesn’t flinch this time.
This time, though, it’s more natural, much more relaxed. A real, radiant smile lights up her features and Peter’s eyes widen with astonishment. Cute.
“That’s good!” Peter exclaims, unable to suppress his genuine excitement. “That one was really good!”
Mantis’s face glows with pride. “Was it really?”
“Yes! Nice!” Peter extends his hand to her for a high-five. She stares at his open palm for a moment before her face pulls back into its usual bewildered frown and all the triumph drains from Peter’s spirit in an instant.
“What are you doing?” she asks him flatly.
“It’s a high-five,” he explains. “See, look, you just touch your hand to mine.”
Mantis blinks. She raises her hand and gently brushes her hand against Peter’s. Her skin is cool— Peter isn’t sure what he expected, but he’d thought the texture would be more rough, more scaly than human skin, but her hands are soft and smooth.
He laughs awkwardly. “It’s supposed to be more like a slap,” he tells her.
Peter’s head starts ringing all of a sudden. He can’t even start to identify the danger his senses are screaming at him about when sharp pain explodes through his face with enough force to send him sprawling backwards, landing in the barren, foreign soil of Titan. He lays there for a moment, blinking rapidly and trying to figure out what the hell just happened, his face throbbing in pain.
“Hey, hey— what’s going on here?!”
That’s Tony’s voice. Peter’s head is spinning, everything around him disoriented as he sits up with some effort. A pair of hands find their way around Peter’s arms and help him stand up, albeit a bit dizzily, and Peter realizes dumbly that it’s Mr. Stark.
“Quill!” Tony barks. “Mind keeping your insect in check?”
“Sure, after you keep yours!” Quill spits back with just as much biting force. Across from Tony and Peter, Quill is yanking a puzzled Mantis back, pushing her behind him protectively.
“Yours just smacked mine in the face!”
”Yours was mouthing off to her first!”
Tony’s jaw tightens threateningly. Peter tries to blink away his disorientation along with his fright at Tony’s steely gaze. “I don’t know if you realize this, but this whole the-world-is-ending crisis doesn’t make us friends,” Tony says, “or acquaintances, or even allies. That means I don’t want any of you fooling around with my things. The kid, he’s mine, and that means all of you are going to keep your hands off.”
Mantis’s bottom lip trembles. “But— I was just—”
“ Just?” Tony says. “Just trying to clock the living daylights out of my kid?”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter says flusteredly. Tony, Quill, and Mantis all turn to face him. His face is burning, he can feel it, red hot under the mask. “I was just showing her how to do a high-five. She just misunderstood, that’s all.”
Tony stares at him, that bone-chilling kind of stare he gives whenever he’s about to say are you fucking kidding me? “Are you fucking kidding me?” he says.
“I’m sorry,” Mantis blurts out. Her voice comes out as a wail. “I did not mean to harm the Spider Boy.”
“It’s okay,” Peter says quickly. “Hey, Mantis, dude, it’s alright.”
When she presses her trembling lips together and shakes her head so fiercely that her hair whips around her face, Peter goes on, “Seriously, it’s fine. See—” he presses his hand to his face, which is still aching terribly from the direct blow (god, it actually hurts) and then drops his hand. “Doesn’t even hurt anymore. I can’t feel a thing.”
Mantis surveys him for a long, intense moment, and when Peter doesn’t falter or wince, she brightens instantaneously. “I like the high-five ,” she giggles. “Spider Boy, will you come with me and teach it to Drax? We can also teach it to your ‘strange doctor’ friend.”
“I’m pretty sure Strange already knows it, but sure,” Peter says, starting forward to join her when Tony grabs his arm and yanks him back.
“What, are you buddying up with the aliens now?” Tony says, and he sounds almost betrayed. “Is that what this is?”
Peter frowns. “Mr. Stark, I’m just being nice—”
“Yeah, man, let them have their playdate,” Quill says. “I think I’ve got a pretty solid plan right now, if you’ll be so kind as to listen.”
Tony releases Peter’s arm. “ Really now. You have a plan.”
“Yeah, I do, actually, and it’s better than anything you’ve thought of up until now!”
Peter slinks away, finally grateful for the excuse of Tony’s advice to let the grown-ups talk. He steps behind the remains of the donut-ship so that Tony and Quill are on the other side, behind the huge hunk of metal, and out of earshot for any normal human without enhanced senses. He lets himself take a breath, trying to comprehend what the hell just happened.
It really has been a crazy day. Peter racks his brain, trying to trace back all the events— where did all of this start? How was he sitting on the school bus just a few hours ago? How did he go from that to preparing to fight beside aliens in less than a day?
Peter’s eyes shift tiredly upwards to the blur of green in the distance. He catches sight of Strange, who is leaning against the other tall piece of shrapnel near the horizon and watching stoically as Mantis raises her palm enthusiastically into the air and gestures wildly at it. Drax is staring at her with an intense level of focus, lifting his hand and mirroring her movements. Mantis says something to him and with little hesitation, Drax’s hand crashes into Mantis’s face and she falls to the ground. Drax begins hooting with laughter— Mantis joins him from her place in the dirt— and Strange stares with a mildly horrified expression.
Peter laughs softly to himself at the spectacle. They’re really not so bad. He turns around and leans against the destroyed ship.
“...and Spider-Kid pulls the gauntlet off,” Quill is saying. “Foolproof plan.”
“No,” Tony says bluntly. “No, no, no no. Parker needs to be as far from the action as possible. I’ll take the gauntlet, he can stay away and web him up.”
“Really?” Quill scoffs. “I’m glad you have a surplus of self-confidence, dude, but you’re not strong enough to get that thing off Thanos’s meatball arm.”
“Who says Parker is?”
“ You did,” Quill says, annoyance creeping into his tone. “You said he can lift, what, like 10 tons, easy. That tops any of the rest of us by a long-shot.”
“I don’t want him going near that gauntlet alone, alright?” Tony snaps. “End of discussion.”
Peter subconsciously draws his hand close to his mouth and tugs with it at the fingernail of his thumb anxiously.
“This isn’t our strategy for a round of paintball, alright man, the fate of the universe literally depends on this,” Quill is saying, his voice rising as his patience runs thin. “That means everything has to be perfectly in place and we only get one chance to do this.”
“Last I checked he’s in my party, not yours, so you don’t have a say in what he’s doing or not. I say he stays where I can see him, stays where I can keep him safe, and that’s that, got it?”
“What’s your deal?!” Quill’s officially lost his temper now. Even though Peter knows they can’t see him, he shrinks back against the metal wall. Listening to their conversation is absolutely humiliating for reasons he can’t quite place.”
“What’s your deal?” Mr. Stark bites back. “He’s mine . That means I have the right to have eyes on him at all times.”
“We need him—”
“So do I!” Tony shouts. It vibrates loud against the metal and Peter startles away from it, stunned. “I need him with me, alright?! He’s not even supposed to be here, Quill, he’s barely sixteen fucking years old, so I think it’s fucking fair that I want him where I can—”
“Sixteen?” Quill puts in, all the fight deflating from his voice in an almost pathetic way.
“I didn’t want him here,” Mr. Stark says in a tight, shaky voice. “I sent him home— god, why didn’t he stay home, why didn’t he just listen to me—?”
Mr. Quill and Mr. Stark become suddenly, eerily quiet, even to Peter’s acute hearing. The only sound now is Mr. Stark’s ragged breaths, which send chills down Peter’s spine and make his hands shake as he clutches them tightly together under his chin.
He’s never heard Mr. Stark talk about him like this. Never heard Mr. Stark so openly admit to caring .
“It’s your call, alright?” Quill says finally, his voice more careful than Peter’s heard from him before. “You can call him in for the heavy lifting when you feel like it’s safe.”
“Spider Boy!”
Peter whirls around. Mantis is grinning at him, her hands clasped neatly in front of her waist. Behind her, Strange is talking to Drax, who is seemingly ignoring him.
“I have taught the high-five to Drax successfully!” Mantis announces cheerily.
Peter forces a smile. “Awesome,” he says breathily.
Mantis nods her head, flashing him a sharp-toothed smile. Mr. Stark and Quill reappear around the ship and make their way toward the pair. Tony appears to have regained his composure, his usual indifference present in his expression, though it’s a bit more wary than usual.
“Alright,” Quill blares, “I got the game plane down, guys.”
“Yep, listen to the man,” Tony says, managing about ninety percent of his usual snark. Peter tries not to notice how he tugs anxiously at his jacket pockets.
Peter knows Tony.
He knows when Tony’s scared. Tony is rarely scared. This— this is serious.
Peter swallows hard and forces his gaze sluggishly to where Star-Lord is still talking. He blinks once, twice, his vision blurring into focus; how long has Quill been lecturing them now?
“Spider Boy,” Mantis says, “you look ill.”
“I’m fine,” Peter says. The words get stuck in his throat.
He feels the gentle ghost of Mantis’s hand over his shoulder.
And then she startles back, wide-eyed, with a terrified cry.
This whirs Peter into action. He jumps back. “Whoa, what— what are you— are you okay?!” he asks her.
Mantis’s hands have found her face, her shaking fingers framing her cheeks. Her entire body is trembling. Strange lunges forward so he is next to her, steadying her shoulder with a calm hand and a concerned expression.
“Spider Boy is scared,” is all she says, jabbing her finger in his direction.
All heads instantly turn to Peter. He wants nothing more at this moment than to shrink into a puddle of dust on the floor and let his ashes be blown away by the wind, never to be seen by them again. The only thing he gets is a pink face and a racing heart.
“I’m not….” Peter starts, voice hoarse.
“You are terrified,” Mantis says. “You are in denial of your feelings…but you are even more scared to seek comfort because you do not think you are worthy of it. You miss your aunt. You do not know whether you will ever see her again. You are insecure, constantly in fear. You’re scared for me… you’re scared for Star-Lord, and for Drax, and for the strange doctor—”
Peter hardly realizes he’s shaking. “That’s enough,” Tony tries.
“And you’re scared for him,” Mantis says, and flings a finger at Tony.
“Mantis, stop talking,” Quill tells the alien girl. Her mouth snaps shut, brow furrowing, her gaze falling on Peter.
“Kid,” Tony says, and it’s all it takes for Peter’s fabricated walls to come crashing down— that’s all he is. A kid. A kid playing grown-up with the adults in space, preparing to go into war…
“Let me talk to him,” Tony’s saying. “Go on, everyone, disperse. We’re gonna be fine. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
The others melt away. Tony stands alone now, but Peter can’t bring himself to look at him.
“Kid,” Tony repeats. “You wanna look at me? Or is the dirt more interesting?”
“Dirt’s more interesting, definitely—”
“Hey. Hey. Parker. Up here.”
Peter sucks in a shaky breath, his hands flailing behind his back as he slowly pulls his gaze up to look at Tony. Tony’s face isn’t mad, or annoyed. He actually looks patient.
“Hey,” Tony says. “It’s okay to be scared, alright, kid?”
“Why do you never call me by name?” Peter finds himself blurting.
Tony blinks, surprised. “What?”
“You always call me Parker,” Peter says. “Or kid, or Spider-Man, Spiderling, Spider— whatever—”
“ Peter ,” Tony spits, clearly irritated. “There. Happy?”
Peter’s eyes begin to burn. His legs wobble a bit, threatening to give out.
“Oh,” Tony says. “Oh, no. Hey, Peter, talk to me, kid. Shit, what’d I do? Peter. Hey.”
“Thanos is coming,” Peter whispers. His voice is barely audible, even in the silence.
“What’d you say?”
“ Thanos is coming!” Peter shouts, his voice cracking halfway through the phrase. His blood is on fire. He doesn’t think he’s ever had an outburst like this, definitely not in front of Tony. “He’s coming in what could be seconds, or minutes, or hours, and— and I didn’t think it was going to be a big deal, I thought I could handle all this, but I’m so scared— we’ve never faced anything like this before and I heard you talking and you’re scared and you’re never scared and he could kill me, he could kill us, he could kill you and I’d never be able to hear you say my name again—”
“Peter,” Tony says gently. “Peter, look at me.”
Peter shakes his head fiercely, too ashamed to look up. Tears threaten to spill from his eyes, blurring his vision.
“Peter, just look at me. Please.”
He does. He looks at Tony. At Tony’s pepper black eyes, vibrant with deep emotion that Peter’s never seen so vulnerable on his face before.
“There you are,” Tony says lightly. “Nice of you to show up, Peter.”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter says, voice strained.
“Sorry,” Tony says breathlessly. “Sorry. I’m sorry, okay? I’m bad at this whole… I don’t know. I just don’t know, Peter.”
“I know.”
“I’m not going to leave you all alone,” Tony says. “I mean, we might die, yeah, but we take that risk every time we step outside. But I swear to god, Peter, I will not leave you alone.”
“Okay.” Peter sounds unconvinced, even to himself.
“You don’t think I’m scared, Peter? I am. God, I’m terrified. I don’t want to lose you, Peter, I can’t.”
“You won’t,” Peter says. “Mr. Stark, what— I— you won’t. You won’t.”
I’m sorry. Those are Peter’s last words to Tony before he vanishes into thin air, leaving nothing behind for the older man but a thin pile of ashes. Tony is left sprawling on the ground where the kid once was, grasping at nothing. Alone. Gone. All gone.
Peter promises he won’t go.
Tony looks over him for a long moment, his gaze careful, his lips pressed together almost ruefully. Peter doesn’t dare move a muscle.
“Peter,” is all Tony says.
“Tony,” says Peter cautiously.
“Peter.” Tony’s eyes are sad and gentle. “Peter. Pete.”
“Tony.”
“Peter.”
Peter has never admired the sound of his own name so much. He drinks it up, devours it like he’s been starved for it his whole life, not pausing to think about how this could be the last time Tony breathes his name. The last time he hears Tony’s rough voice smooth over his name again.
“Hey, Pete, this whole tough love thing,” Tony’s saying. “You know I care…”
“Yeah,” Peter says. “Yeah, I do.”
Tony’s gaze flutters over Peter.
“This sucks,” Tony says. “A lot. God, I wanna run away from it, but we can’t. You know we can’t.”
“I don’t want to,” Peter assures him. “I just…”
This presents itself as a perfect opportunity for Peter to say everything. For Peter to lunge into Tony’s arms and hold the older man and sob into his shoulder for as long as he possibly can. For Peter to tell him how much he admires him, how he’s been watching over him the past year and how it almost feels like— it feels like—
Peter doesn’t. He doesn’t and he hates himself for it. He just manages a weak smile at Tony, and Tony returns it.
“We’re gonna kick Thanos’s raisin ass,” Tony says confidently. “Alright, Pete? Why don’t you go ask Star-Lord to give you the run-down?”
Peter nods reluctantly and turns away, slipping around the corner of the ship. Tony watches him go, his gaze lingering as the kid disappears, and the smile falls from his face.
Strange is sitting by himself on one of the rocks. His gaze is distant, unfocused, even when Tony approaches him and walks until he is standing inches from his face.
“How’re we doing, Doc?” Tony asks as nonchalantly as he can manage.
Strange shoots him a quizzical look. “What do you want from me, Stark?”
“Nothing.”
Strange looks unconvinced, and he has every right to be. Tony’s facade breaks a little as he clears his throat and says, “How many of those alternate futures did you see again?”
“Fourteen million six—”
“—hundred and five,” Tony finishes.
“So you’re not asking just to know the number,” Strange says slowly. “What’s bothering you?”
“How— how many of those….” Tony swallows, steadying himself. “How many of those did the kid live?”
Strange purses his lips, eyes cloudy and dark, and for a moment Tony thinks Strange is really considering telling him. Unsurprisingly, Strange just exhales softly and says, “Stark, that’s not healthy. I’m not just— just gonna relay that kind of information to you. It’ll drive you literally insane.”
“I know,” Tony says defeatedly. “I know. God, I’m losing it.”
Strange nods slightly. “We all are,” he says. It shouldn’t comfort Tony, but it does. Somehow.
“And then boom, we destroy Thanos, and then we can go find Gamora!”
Peter nods vigorously up at Star-Lord, who’s wearing his mask for some reason. Peter kind of adores the way it looks, the glowing red eyes, the smoothed metal. Cool. So cool. Quill proudly puts his hands on his hips, chest puffing out a bit, and looks over Peter.
“That’s really good,” Peter tells him.
Quill blinks, like he hadn’t been expecting such a response— he straightens, eyes narrowing— “Really?”
“Yes,” Peter says, “I love it, Mr. Star-Lord Quill, sir.”
Quill pales a bit, looking very faint all of a sudden, cheeks pinkening. “Oh. Oh, that’s— wow. Wow. I really could get used to that— next time try adding captain in front?”
“Yes, Mr. Captain Star-Lord Quill, sir—!”
“Yes!” Quill shouts excitedly. “Aw, yes! I like you!”
“Thank you, Mr. Captain Star-Lord Quill, sir!”
“I forgive you for dragging Footloose earlier,” Quill says generously, patting Peter’s shoulder. “At least tell me you like the song…?”
“It’s a good song,” Peter complies. He doesn’t say that he’s only listened to it maybe twice before and he always thought it rather mediocre.
“Yeah? What else do you listen to? Looking Glass? Springsteen? Sweet?”
Peter grimaces a bit. “Mmm…”
“None of those?” Quill says, disappointed. “Boston? Cheap Trick?”
Peter can feel his face going a total blank. Quill’s jaw sets.
“Silver..? Fleetwood Mac?”
“Oh, I know them!” Peter exclaims. “I like their music!”
“Yeah?!” Quill says excitedly.
“Yes! Uhhh… Aerosmith?” Peter tries.
Quill’s head bobs in approval. “Yeah!”
“ELO!” Peter says.
“Yeah!”
“The Clash—”
“Yeah—”
“Uh, Raspberries—”
“Yeah—”
“Jackson 5—”
“Yeah—”
“Guns N’ Roses!” Peter cries out.
Quill blinks, the smile dropping from his face in an instant. “Huh?”
“Oh,” Peter says deflatedly. He racks his brain for more old music— a majority of his knowledge comes from May and Ben’s old 80’s cassettes, which seem to be of little help when it comes to Quill’s taste in tunes. “Um… Blue Swede?”
“Yeah!!” Quill shouts. “Yes!”
Quill holds his fist out. Peter eagerly bumps it.
The moment of awe is interrupted by Tony clearing his throat behind them. The two turn around.
“Hate to ruin this bonding moment,” Tony says, “but can I have a quick word with the kid? Really important.”
Quill looks skeptical, but he retreats to join Mantis and Drax in what looks like a team huddle. Tony takes Peter by the shoulder.
“Mind explaining that?” Tony asks.
“Huh?”
“You,” Tony forces out, “making friends with everyone here. I saw the way you were looking at Quill. You better not be thinking he’s cooler than me.”
“He’s really cool,” Peter says.
“No,” Tony orders.
“And he’s even got space guns!” Peter swoons.
“Absolutely not. Tell me right now,” Tony commands, “tell me I’m your favorite superhero. Go on.”
“But I like Mr. Captain Star-Lord Quill.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Mr. Captain Star-Lord Quill,” Peter repeats without hesitation.
“That—” Tony nearly chokes— “That’s what you’re calling him? Why don’t you call me anything like that?”
This sounds scarily like jealousy. Dad jealousy, Peter thinks. Weird. “I didn’t know you wanted me to?”
“You’ve replaced me,” Tony says. “I see how it is. Yeah, have fun letting Quill and his goons make you new suits because I sure as hell won’t be—”
“Mr. Stark, you’re still my favorite superhero.”
“Welcome back on my team. Glad to have you back, Pete.”
“Are you two done?” Quill reappears beside Tony, with Mantis, Drax, and Strange all scattered behind. “We should start getting in position.”
“Thanos is coming,” Strange agrees. “I can feel it.”
“What part of Thanos’s body are you feeling? I do not see him,” Drax says. Strange decidedly ignores him.
“Yeah, Pete and I were just finishing up anyway,” Tony says with a sniff. “He said that he likes me better than you, by the way. Not that it matters.”
“He would never say that,” Quill scoffs. “The two of us have a deep rooted connection. We even have the same first name.”
“Hey, his words, not mine.” Tony pats Peter on the shoulder, and then turns around when he sees Drax crouching by the floor, fiddling with a piece of scrap metal. “Hey, what are you— is that mine?!”
“It is from the remains of your pathetically weak armor, when we embarrassed your puny team by defeating you all in combat,” Drax says.
“You guys defeated us? If I remember correctly I was this close to blowing your brains out.”
“I could have taken it,” Drax says thoughtfully.
“No, he could not have taken it,” Mantis adds.
“Are you still fiddling?” Tony asks incredulously. “Really? After I just told you not to?”
“You did not tell me to cease fiddling. You asked if it was yours. It is.”
“Yeah, hands off, big guy, I’ll have you know that this armor is—”
Quill pats Peter solidly on the back while Tony and Drax’s conversation grows more unintelligible by the second. “You know,” Quill says thoughtfully, “My dad murdered my mother. He had sex with, like, a million other species to try and reproduce offspring with his Celestial powers? Man, he was a dick. He ended up murdering all of them too. And then he tried killing the universe and I had to murder him myself.”
Peter stares so hard into his feet that he thinks he’ll burn a hole in them. Quill nods distantly.
“So yeah,” Quill continues, “you’re lucky you have a father figure who, you know, is also kind of a dick, but he’s a good dick. Like, really good. And doesn’t try to murder you. He cares about you.”
“You can stop talking to me about this,” Peter almost pleads.
“Okay, good. I was going for, like, a heart-to-heart? You know? But I—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
“Okay.” Quill whistles. “You’re a good kid, you know.”
Peter watches Quill walk away to rejoin Tony, Mantis, and Drax. Peter glances at Strange— the two of them are standing somewhat isolated now. Strange looks at Peter like he’s sizing him up for a fight. Like he’s a threat.
“I don’t know how you made all of them soft ,” Strange says finally, “but it won’t work on me, so don’t try anything.”
“I wasn’t planning on it, Mr. Doctor Strange Master of the Mystic Arts Timekeeper, sir.”
Strange’s posture falters a bit and he coughs into his sleeve. “ Um,” is all he manages to say.
“Alright, guys,” Quill proclaims, “it’s go time. Let’s all get into our places, yeah?”
“Thanos may have the gauntlet,” Strange says, “but we have something he doesn’t. We have a team.”
Peter looks at all of them as if for the first time, really examines their faces, observes and admires them one by one. They’re strong individually. They’re strong together. He thinks about how far he’s had to come in order to get here and for the first time he starts to truly believe it’s worth it.
He barely notices as the group disperses, each one getting into their positions in preparation for Thanos’s arrival. Strange opens a sparkling, circular portal and Mantis eagerly hops inside, high-fiving him before he seals it off. Drax and Quill talk quietly as they disappear around a wall of shrapnel.
“We’re gonna be alright, Pete,” Tony says beside Peter. “We’re gonna be just fine.”
They don’t even know that they’re going to lose.
“Yeah,” Peter agrees. “Just fine.”