Archive of Our Own ^beta

Peter practically begged Doctor Strange to bring him to Tony's lake house.

Aunt May was busy, and he'd gone to call Tony for a ride when he remembered—

Anyways, Pepper ushers Peter in as soon as he knocks.

Peter says hello to Morgan—she smiles and gives him a block “to keep safe”—and then he and Strange head down to the lab.

The bots notice him immediately.

Dum-E rolls forward like a golden retriever who hasn’t seen his favorite person in years. U’s right behind him, waving a welder like he’s brandishing a party popper. They do their usual little routine of clanks and chirps and frantic arm wiggles they always used to do when they saw Peter.

And Peter actually finds himself smiling for a second. Because God, he missed them too.

Strange stays near the doorway, letting him have this. Or maybe because he's quietly terrified of being smacked with a welder. Honestly, Peter can't tell which.

Peter sits down on the step leading to the main platform. Dum-E nudges his shoulder with the nozzle, a soft tap tap tap that he's learned means hi.

“Hey, guys,” Peter murmurs, voice already wobbling. “I missed you.”

Peter takes a breath—one of those shaky ones that starts in your ribs and ends somewhere in your throat. “I… I have to tell you something.”

The bots still immediately. Even Strange straightens, like the air just shifted.

“It’s about Mr. Stark,” Peter says, twisting the block Morgan gave him in his hands. “Um. Tony. He—he's no longer with us.”

There’s always been something ridiculously expressive about those robots. The way Dum-E’s arm droops just a little. The way U's internal fan slowed.

For a moment, there’s nothing. No whirring, no clanking, no cheerful little chirps. Just the sound of Peter trying way too hard to breathe quietly so he doesn’t outright break down in Tony’s lab.

Peter folds over, hands over his face, shoulders shaking as the tears finally fall. Dum-E moves forward, draping his arm over Peter's shoulders, as if trying to hug him.

"I'm so sorry."

U edges closer, his claw tapping Peter's knee clumsily.

Peter wipes his face on his sleeve, breath hitching. "He-he loved you guys. You know that, right? You were his—"

Kids. The word catches in his throat. God, he couldn't even say it.

Dum-E lets out a single beep. Soft. Barely there. Like he’s trying not to make it worse.

Peter laughs—one of those tiny, wet little laughs you let out when your heart’s splitting in two. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. He used to pretend you drove him crazy, but he’d—he’d brag about you, you know?"

Behind him, Strange finally steps away from the doorway. He crouches beside Peter, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright."

Dum-E leans in again, arm curling awkwardly—not quite a full hug, not quite not one.

And Peter finally lets himself cry, really cry, into the metal arm of a robot Tony built when he was Peter's age.