CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
We Are The Ants

━━━━━━🕷━━━━━━

              THEY DIDN'T GO HOME. Which, given how long he'd known them for, was something Mr. Stark should have honestly predicted. Peter was stubborn as hell, refusing to give up on a fight until he was practically unconscious, and Cecelia was used to pushing through conflicts in order to appease Richard. Neither of them was the type to so easily throw the towel in, even after they'd both nearly died already. The conflict had just begun, after all. And Mr. Stark may have been Iron Man, but even Iron Man needed backup once in a while. Especially when he was going toe-to-toe with alien invaders.

So, instead of letting their parachutes carry them back down to Earth (which would have taken hours, anyway, given the pace they were drifting down at), Peter and Cecelia were quick to disable them and make their way back to the ship. Peter held them both up with webs, and Cecelia activated the thrusters in her boots for good measure, trying not to think about the fact that they were completely outside of Earth's atmosphere now. But then she made the mistake of looking down, and nearly passed out for a second time.

There was Earth. A great blue sphere (take that, flat Earthers) with patches of green and brown. The sun shone over it, giving it a white halo, bigger and brighter than Cecelia had ever seen it before. From Cecelia's vantage point, whole countries could be seen, broken up only by bodies of water. It managed to be both immensely vast and minuscule. The United States, the corner of the world Cecelia had grown up in, was suddenly nothing. Nor was she, really—from this high up, she couldn't even see buildings, much less individual people. It really hammered home how insignificant she was.

Her breathing shortened again, though not from lack of oxygen. It was her anxiety, dragging her down, reminding her that human existence wasn't even a footnote in the Earth's history. The planet had been around for four and a half billion years. Humans had been around for around six million. And that wasn't even the modern homo sapiens of today.

Creator. It was not the right time to have an existential crisis.

Fortunately, she wasn't lost in her own thoughts for long. "Look!" Peter shouted, pointing up. Cecelia followed his gaze, and her eyes locked on what appeared to be a way inside the spaceship. The doors were beginning to close, but they moved at a snail's pace. If Cecelia and Peter could get up there, then they might actually be able to stand again.

"Please get us up there!" Cecelia begged. She knew Peter wasn't going to drop her, but having a sixteen-year-old boy—Enhanced or not—and her boots as the only thing keeping her from literally going adrift in space was predictably nerve-wracking. "I'll help you out!"

"Okay!" Peter wrapped one arm around Cecelia's midsection, freeing his other. With a flick of his wrist, a strand of webbing shot out and met the platform leading inside. Then he began to climb, moving gracefully up the wall. Cecelia's boots helped him out, propelling him upward at a quicker pace. It didn't take long before they were right before the platform. There, Peter finally let go of the wall and just latched onto the web.

"Oh, my God!" he shouted, legs kicking into open... air? Space? Technically there was no gravity here anymore. "CeCe, I don't know if I—"

"Now it's your turn to hang on!" Cecelia instructed, though her voice trembled a little. She, too, grabbed onto the web. Once she'd gotten a firm hold—which wasn't difficult, given how sticky it was—she turned up the power on her boots and heaved herself and Peter up. Fortunately, it didn't take long before her hands met the solid metal of the platform. Then it was only a matter of climbing onto it.

They managed to get through the doors far before they closed. As Cecelia dropped to the ground, thankful beyond measure to have a solid surface to hang onto again, Peter muttered, "We shoulda stayed on the bus."

"Maybe," Cecelia admitted. "But we're here now. Let's go find Mr. Stark and the wizard."

"Yeah. Yeah. You know, that is still so cool to say."

"What? 'Wizard'?"

"Yeah. I mean, come on. Do you think he's a Dumbledore, Gandalf type?"

"Peter."

"What?"

"There's a time and a place. Inside a spaceship right after being attacked by aliens is not it."

"Right, sorry."

They set off, making their way through the maze of corridors. The spaceship seemed even larger on the inside than it was on the outside, though that was likely due to the endless staircases, dead ends, and strange technology they occasionally passed. It was all so... well, alien, and both Cecelia and Peter kept their guard up. Their footsteps weren't exactly quiet—even Cecelia's could be heard on the pure metallic floor. Any second, one of the aliens could leap out of the shadows, and they'd be taken off-guard.

...Or not. An hour and a half went by of aimless wandering—in which Cecelia climbed so many stairs her calves began to ache—and no aliens showed up for a rematch to the earlier fight. Unfortunately, neither did Mr. Stark or the wizard. So, even though everything around Cecelia was incredibly amazing and surreal—she was in an alien spaceship, for Creator's sake—things eventually also grew boring. Which was ridiculous, given that, again, this was an alien spaceship, but perhaps Cecelia's parents had been onto something when they'd told her cellphones reduced her attention span.

She pulled down her hood, revealing her masked face. Peter groaned and scuffed his foot against the ground.

Cecelia glanced at him. "What?"

"Do you think Mr. Stark's okay?" he asked. "And the wizard?"

"Do you want an optimistic opinion or an honest one?"

"Optimistic, please."

"Well, too bad. If you wanted that, you should have taken Christine up here, not me. Um, I don't know. But I am... I am a little worried. I thought at first that Mr. Stark wanted us to go home because he's an adult and adults don't think that teenagers are capable of protecting themselves—even though that's literally the thing I'm best at, now—but, honestly, thinking back to the park... I don't know. That alien we fought must have just been one of many, and not one of our shots really affected it. Then there was that other alien that seemed like it had telekinesis, which makes it powerful, too."

Peter swallowed. "You think Mr. Stark's in trouble?"

"Yeah. I don't think he can take these things on his own. Which made him even stupider for trying to send us home. He needs all the help he can get up here."

"God..." Peter muttered. "This really is crazy."

"Yeah. My parents are probably freaking out right about now. And Christine. And Alex."

"You still haven't told them anything?"

"You know I haven't. That's why I text you instead of them about this kind of stuff, dumbass."

His lenses narrowed, and his voice got a little quieter. "That's the only reason?"

Cecelia blinked. Was he... insecure? About this? Right now?

"I mean... you're not my only friend, Peter," she said eventually. The two of them passed a head of a dead... creature hanging on the wall, glassy purple eyes boring into her soul, a blue tongue lolling out of a sharp-toothed mouth. It almost resembled a wolf, but if a wolf was twice its usual size, pure black, and with multiple rows of teeth. "I would still talk to you, but I would also talk to Alex and Christine about it if they knew."

"Then why don't you tell them?" Peter asked, glancing back at the alien wolf's head. He shuddered.

"Because I can't."

"And why can't you?"

Creator. This wasn't Cecelia's ideal time for a therapy session, but she supposed she had literally no excuse right now. All they were doing was walking, and not even with a purpose—with Karen offline (something Peter had quickly discovered) and their comms down, there was no way of tracking Mr. Stark. Well, no way other than picking a random direction and hoping they'd come across him.

"I have my reasons," she responded. And it was true: if she listed them all out, she'd be talking for at least five minutes. Mom and Dad might not want her to be a vigilante anymore. They might piece together what really happened with Richard. Alex and Christine could spread it around, use Cecelia as a means to grow in popularity (it didn't sound like them, but anything could happen).

What was on the top of the list, though, was a product of five years under Richard's thumb. Even a year and a half of therapy hadn't managed to completely erase the way he'd made her think about herself. Even when she thought she was getting better, the names he called her, the ways he'd looked at her, often resurfaced. Mutant. Freak. Unnatural. Monster.

There were times when he was particularly mad and Cecelia got the feeling he didn't see her as fully human. After the tragedy in Sokovia, that had been the mentality for quite a few people around the world—mostly those who completely supported the Accords as they were written—but although Cecelia had heard about it, she'd never experienced that hatred outright from anyone but Richard. He was the one who would crush her down when he got mad, convince her that he was the only one who would accept her as she was—even as he was doing anything but.

What if Cecelia told her parents and they started treating her as lesser, too? Maybe they wouldn't tell her—they were too nice for that—but it would reflect in their behaviour. Maybe they'd barely be able to conceal their distaste around her, at the idea that they'd brought a mutant into their home. Maybe they'd stop loving her, and Cecelia would be able to feel it in her heart.

Of course, she didn't tell Peter that. She hadn't even told Dr. Patel—who was one of the only other people she'd ever confessed her abilities to. It was something she kept locked up inside, securely wrapped in chains with a sturdy padlock, and didn't dare release.

"I think you should," Peter said. They mounted another staircase, then walked across a particularly precarious bridge with no handrails. "Not now. I mean, obviously not now, since they're... on Earth, and we're not. But, um, later. Like, in a few months, if you want. But I think you should do it yourself, instead of letting them find out." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It didn't really turn out well for me either time someone found out."

"Didn't May burst into the Compound to scream at Mr. Stark?" Cecelia asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, she did."

"And wasn't Colonel Rhodes there, too?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he was."

"I'm sure that was a great first impression."

"I still haven't looked him in the eyes."

Peter leaped off the bridge and down onto another platform, and Cecelia followed him. They ended up in yet another hallway, and she suppressed a sigh. When would it end?

"I really wish we had Karen right now," she admitted.

"Me, too."

"And I wish I had my own AI in general. I swear, if we ever get back to Earth, I'm finally gonna complete that project. I've already got plans. My AI's name will be Howl, and he'll sound exactly like Christian Bale."

Peter drew to a stop so abruptly that Cecelia crashed into him. He went stumbling forward, sending Cecelia forward, too. The two of them both tripped about for a moment until finally finding their footing again.

"What the hell was that about?" Cecelia asked, rubbing her arm reproachingly.

"You said 'if'," Peter responded, voice quiet.

"Huh?"

"You said 'if we ever get back to Earth'. Do you—do you not think we're going to make it?"

Cecelia sucked in a breath. She hadn't even realized that had been what had come out of her mouth. But she had a point, didn't she? How were they going to get back, unless they took control of the spaceship itself? They couldn't exactly fly back down, not when they were outside of the atmosphere, now.

As she'd said before, positivity was Christine's thing. But... a part of her protested at the idea of giving up hope so easily. Even if she was being realistic.

"I don't—I don't know," she said. "I did say this was dangerous. And that Mr. Stark is in trouble. So... maybe."

"Well, don't," Peter snarled, his voice so unnaturally fierce that Cecelia nearly jumped. "Because we are, okay? Even if—even if something happens to Mr. Stark, we'll figure things out, okay?" Cecelia didn't answer. Peter purposefully stopped in front of her again, blocking her path. "Okay?"

"Okay," Cecelia said. She wasn't sure if she believed it, but Peter was right. She couldn't be giving up right now. They would, at the very least, try to get back home.

"Good," Peter said, his voice softening. "Now, come on. Let's go up this way."

"Okay," Cecelia said again.

Then Peter did something unexpected: he put his arm around her. Given that they weren't in a near-death experience—such as attaching to the side of spaceship—that made it a necessity, the touch was foreign. Cecelia tensed at first, but the embrace was so unlike Richard. He liked to grab her arms and her wrists, or, occasionally, steering her by the back of her neck. His fingers always curled in, tight enough to bruise. But Peter... Peter's arm was barely there. It didn't hurt. It was just... a new pressure. Kind of soothing, actually.

"We're going to do this," he said again. "We're STEM students. We'll figure something out."

A reluctant chuckle freed itself from Cecelia's lips. Peter looked at her, his face a blank slate with the mask. Still, she swore that beneath it, he smiled.

IT ENDED UP TAKING three hours to find Mr. Stark. The spaceship was so large that this wasn't a surprise—if Cecelia was being honest, she'd half-expected it to be longer. Still, her meandering with Peter wasn't exactly the most fun experience she'd ever had. Thirst set in at the halfway point, settling fiercely onto Cecelia's tongue, and hunger came a little later. Of course, neither of them had any food or water on them—any necessities had been in their backpacks for the trip, which were still ditched in the alleyway—so they just had to deal with the discomfort. Though it was a lot rougher on Peter than it was on Cecelia.

They had entered another fairly open space, which contained completely unprotected metallic platforms connected solely by the occasional staircase. Cecelia's neck was craned, trying to see if she could get a flash of red and gold above her, and Peter was in charge of looking down. They were just walking across another precarious bridge when he hissed, "Jackpot!"

Cecelia's head snapped down, her heart thudding with anticipation. Sure enough, Mr. Stark stood a few levels below them, peeking around a pillar made up of the same foreign metal that composed the rest of the spaceship. He'd shed his helmet, but he was still wearing his Iron Man armour. Given the fact that he wasn't either restrained or engaged in some kind of combat with the aliens, it was safe to assume that he wasn't in danger. That certainly made Cecelia breathe out a sigh of relief.

"He's okay," she said, her rigid posture relaxing. "Thank Creator."

"Where's the wizard?" Peter asked. "He's not there."

"I don't know. But let's talk to him. He can probably tell us what's going on. And give us a better explanation than the whole 'necklace from a wizard' thing."

"Yeah, okay."

Cecelia engaged her boots, then stepped into empty air. At her gentle urging, she was carried down slowly, practically floating. As she approached, a flash of red fabric approached Mr. Stark, then tapped him on the shoulder. It wasn't Peter. It was... the wizard's cloak?

Mr. Stark whirled around, repulsor at the ready, but stopped when he caught eyes of the cloak—hovering in midair. Then, surprisingly unfazed, he muttered, "Wow, you're a seriously loyal piece of outerwear, aren't you?"

"Yeah, uh, speaking of loyalty..." Peter started, announcing both himself and Cecelia to Mr. Stark's presence. He flipped to land on his feet before his mentor, then disengaged his mask. Cecelia landed beside him and yanked her own down.

"Hey, old man."

Mr. Stark whirled around, his eyes flashing. Cecelia suppressed a flinch, remembering the darkening of Richard's expression, the way his own eyes would narrow dangerously. But Mr. Stark wasn't him. Besides, even though he was evidently surprised, he looked nowhere near as furious as Richard. Which was good.

"What the—" he began. Peter held out his hands.

"I know what you're gonna say."

"You two should not be here."

"We were gonna go home—"

"I don't wanna hear it."

"But it was such a long way down and I just thought about you on the way—"

"And now I gotta hear it."

"—and Cecelia came up with this plan and then we kinda stuck to the side of the ship."

"It was terrifying," Cecelia added.

"And this suit is ridiculously intuitive, by the way," Peter continued. Mr. Stark glanced at the floor, cursing softly. "So, if anything, it's kinda your fault that we're here."

Mr. Stark's head snapped back up, and Peter's eyes widened at the look on his face.

"What did you just say?" Mr. Stark asked.

"I-I take that back. And now, we're here in space."

"Yeah, right where I didn't want you to be," said Mr. Stark, moving toward them. His voice softened when he spoke next, his eyes darting from Cecelia to Peter and back again. "This isn't Coney Island. This isn't a field trip. This is a one-way ticket. You hear me? Don't pretend you thought this through."

Cecelia's heart sank. Peter's pep talk was still fresh on her mind, his determination for her not to give up hope. But here was Mr. Stark, admitting her worst fears. A one-way ticket. Was she—was this—were they going to—

Mr. Stark saw the look on her face. "Look, kid—"

"Peter said you could find a way back," Cecelia breathed, wrapping her arms around her midsection. Her breath caught in her throat, and tears began to prick at her eyes. "He said—why would you even come here if there wasn't a way back?"

Mr. Stark sighed. And Cecelia had always called him old, but he'd never actually looked it until right now. The crow's feet at the corner of his eyes deepened when he looked down, and wrinkles appeared overtop his furrowed brow. There was a weariness in his face that you typically didn't see until one reached retirement and a dimming in his eyes. She swore that gray hairs were beginning to overtake his natural brown.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just—when you're me, you sometimes have to put your own life behind others. That's what I did in 2012, when everything with Loki happened. That's what I did when I faced that piece of shit Killian. And now—well, this is bigger than me. I still don't understand everything, but I do know that a powerful being wants to get his mitts on the most powerful objects in the universe. I couldn't just let that happen."

"Then why should we?" Peter asked, voice quivering slightly.

"Because you're kids, goddammit!"

"I'm not a kid," Cecelia said, even though she felt more like one than ever. "I think I stopped being one the day my uncle shoved my suit in my arms and told me to rob a warehouse."

Incredibly, Mr. Stark's chin began to tremble. His soft eyes—brown and lined with bags; so different from the piercing blue of Richard's—landed on her, and he reached out to settle a hand on her shoulder. "That's not true," he said. "You've still got a lot of life left in you, okay? Don't go throwing it away quite yet."

"I'm not—I'm not trying to. I just—" The waterworks were threatening to spill again. Cecelia wiped at her eyes frantically, trying to scourge them of any stray liquid. "I just wanted to help. I do."

"We thought this through," Peter insisted. "We did."

"You could not have possibly thought this through," Mr. Stark argued.

"You can't be a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man if there's no neighbourhood," Peter said. Then: "Okay, that didn't really make sense, but you know what I'm trying to say."

Mr. Stark exhaled. His hand was still on Cecelia's shoulder. "We'll work things out. Hear that, Cecelia? We'll—I'll figure something out. I'll get you back home."

That was exactly what Cecelia wanted to hear. Yet she was getting a feeling that, in these circumstances, Mr. Stark was only saying it to give them a sense of relief. Not because he really believed it.

Whatever. Cecelia would—she'd cross that bridge when she got to it. For now, she had to stay strong.

"Come on," Mr. Stark urged, finally taking his hand away. "We got a situation." He walked to the edge of the platform, and both Cecelia and Peter followed. The cloak drifted behind their backs, swaying in a nonexistent current. "See him down there? He's in trouble. What's your plan? Go."

Mr. Stark was referring to the wizard, who was on the bridge below them. He was suspended in midair, stomach facing the ground, and what appeared to be at least twenty spikes were skewering his skin. One of the aliens from earlier—the shorter gray one with apparent telekinetic abilities—was standing in front of him. When it waved a hand, the spikes moved, appearing to go in deeper. A shudder ran its way down Cecelia's spine.

"Okay, okay, uh..." Peter dropped into a crouch and narrowed his eyes, scanning the scene. The cloak followed him, bending its collar to mimic his action. When Peter stood up again, so did the cloak. "Okay, did you ever see this really old movie, Aliens?"

"The sequel to Alien, the movie we just replicated in Mr. Stark's lab?" Cecelia asked. "Probably."

"Nyota Uhara's right, I have," Mr. Stark said.

"Good," Peter said. "Then I hope you remember the ending."

Mr. Stark did, in fact, remember the ending of Aliens. So did Cecelia, who'd watched it at a sleepover at Christine's a couple of years below. And she immediately understood what he was referencing.

Within two minutes—which now seemed like two minutes too long, given the writhing that the wizard was doing below them—they'd gotten set up. The preparation turned out to be a blessing—it distracted Cecelia from the minor crisis that was surging through her. Of course, when all of this was over, it would come flooding back, but it was nice to have a small period of respite.

Finally, they were prepared. All three of them got into position, readying themselves for their moment. Cecelia's heart stuttered in her chest.

She could do this.

When she got onto the scene, the wizard—who, when Cecelia got closer to, seemed like just a regular man—was screaming, eyes darting this way and that as the spikes continued to sink into his skin. The alien watched, folding its hands together, undeterred by his agony. In fact, it seemed almost like it was enjoying it.

"Painful, aren't they?" it crooned. "They were originally designed for microsurgery. And any one of them—" Cecelia and Mr. Stark landed. The alien turned, revealing a weathered gray face, a receding hairline, and a completely flat nose. It wore a high collared tunic, covering its throat. It was obvious from first glance that it was far more vulnerable than its partner had been. Still, its abilities gave it an upper hand.

Indeed, it barely blinked when it took the two of them in. Instead, it just finished, "—could end your friend's life in an instant."

"I gotta tell you, he's not really my friend," Mr. Stark said. "Saving his life is more of a professional courtesy."

"It's in the job description," Cecelia added, voice low. She was wearing her hood and mask again, relishing at the comfort anonymity gave her. Still, her Phantom personality usually wasn't far off from her Cecelia one. But today, because Peter was undoubtedly listening, she added on where she usually didn't. "You know, of being a superhero and all. Got that, Voldemort?"

The alien raised its hand, and a piece of metal detached from the wall. It floated over to it and stayed there, a warning. "You've saved nothing." Its other hand moved, and another piece of metal came in from its other side. "Your powers are inconsequential compared to mine."

"Yeah, but the kids have seen more movies," Mr. Stark said. Then a cannon burst free from his shoulder and blew a hole in the side of the ship. At the same time, Cecelia shot two stunners.

They landed at the alien's feet, right where she'd been aiming. Instinctively, it had leaped back, attempting to dodge the blow—but that put it off balance. It was sucked right off its feet, hurtling through the hole Mr. Stark had made. Unfortunately, so was the wizard.

He let out a yell as he was blown sideways. His cloak grabbed him by the arm, attempting to keep him grounded, but the pressure was too much, and he slipped right out of its grasp. Before he went soaring out after the alien, though, Peter shot out a strand of webbing, locking around his midsection.

Peter grabbed a ladder, attempting to keep the wizard inside, but his hand was quick to slip off. But just as he reached the spaceship's hole, eight spindly limbs grew out of the back of his suit and latched onto the walls.

"Yes!" he shouted, triumphant. "Wait. What are those?"

"Cool ass upgrades!" Cecelia responded, watching Peter tug the wizard inside. Once they'd both made it through, Mr. Stark held out his arms, sealing the hole he'd created. It melded shut just as the wizard was flung onto one of the bridges.

Peter landed in a crouch, then straightened. When the cloak followed him, he held out a hand. "Hey, we haven't officially met."

It flew off. Peter looked down. "Cool."

Mr. Stark's armour peeled its way off, the nanites crawling back into the arc reactor at his chest. He walked straight past the wizard, still catching his breath on the bridge. Cecelia, to her credit, actually reached out a hand to help him up. He took it, getting to his feet. Blood trickled down one side of his face.

"We gotta turn this ship around," he said.

Mr. Stark scoffed. "Yeah, now he wants to run. Great plan."

"No, I want to protect the Stone." The cloak wrapped around the wizard's shoulders.

"And I want you to thank me. Now, go ahead. I'm listening."

He made his way to what seemed to be the front of the ship, where a window finally let Cecelia get her first proper glimpse of where she was. They were going so fast that the outside world was a glowing cloud of blue, white specks—stars—streaking by. Something like flames flickered in her peripherals.

The sight caught Cecelia's breath for a moment, but she still managed to take down her hood and say, "Actually, thank us. He's not the only one who did the heavy lifting."

"Sorry, what am I thanking you for?" the wizard asked. "Nearly blasting me into space?"

Mr. Stark whirled around. "Who just saved your magical ass? Me."

"Us," Cecelia corrected.

"I seriously don't know how you fit your head into that helmet," the wizard said.

"Admit it, you should've ducked out when I told you to," said Mr. Stark. "I tried to bench you. You refused."

"Unlike everyone else in your life, I don't work for you."

"And due to that fact, we're now in a flying doughnut billions of miles from Earth with no backup."

"We're backup," Peter protested, gesturing to himself and Cecelia.

"No, you're stowaways. The adults are talking."

"I'm sorry, I'm confused as to the relationship here," the wizard said. "What are they, your wards?"

"Surprisingly, given my track record, no," said Cecelia.

"No," Peter agreed, then held out his hand again. "I'm Peter, by the way."

"Doctor Strange," the wizard introduced.

"Oh, we're using our made-up names. Um, I'm Spider-Man, then."

"Phantom," Cecelia said.

The wizard—Doctor Strange—took one look at them, then turned around, heading back to Tony. Cecelia scowled. He still hadn't thanked them.

"The ship is self-correcting its course," Mr. Stark said. "Thing's on autopilot."

"Can we control it?" Doctor Strange asked. "Fly us home?"

Mr. Stark didn't answer immediately, avoiding his gaze. Doctor Strange clenched his jaw. "Stark?"

Mr. Stark blinked. "Yeah?"

"Can you get us home?"

"Yeah, I heard you." Mr. Stark clasped his hands together and rocked on his feet, shifting his weight. "I'm thinking I'm not so sure we should."

"What?" Cecelia asked, exchanging a bewildered look with Peter. "Why?"

"Under no circumstances can we bring the Time Stone to Thanos," Doctor Strange growled. "I don't think you quite understand what's at stake here."

"What? No," Mr. Stark argued. "It's you who doesn't understand that Thanos has been inside my head for six years. Since he sent an army to New York, and now he's back." With every word, he drew closer and closer to Doctor Strange, until their noses were nearly touching. His voice broke when he spoke again. "And I don't know what to do. So I'm not so sure if it's a better plan to fight him on our turf or his but you saw what they did, what they can do. At least on his turf, he's not expecting it. So I say we take the fight to him. Doctor. Do you concur?"

Doctor Strange took in a deep breath. "All right, Stark. We go to him. But you have to understand... if it comes to saving you or the kids or the Time Stone, I will not hesitate to let any of you die. I can't, because the universe depends on it."

"Nice," said Mr. Stark. "Good, moral compass." He patted him on the arm. "We're straight."

Then he made his way back over to Cecelia and Peter, who were watching with hitched breaths. Cecelia had subconsciously inched closer to him, even though she never did that, and Peter just let her. Mr. Stark exhaled, meeting both of their gazes. "All right, kids." He brought a hand to one of Peter's shoulders, then the other, and did the same to Cecelia. "You're Avengers, now."

Peter visibly brightened, but Cecelia wasn't going to be shaken off like this. Mr. Stark had only given her the barebones details of what was happening, but if she was going to help him—which, apparently, she was, given that Mr. Stark had made the executive decision to prolong their stay in space—she needed to know more.

(Still, being an Avenger... well, that was a can of worms she'd have to open later.)

"One second," she said. Mr. Stark turned. "I want to know everything about this Thanos. And whatever the Infinity Stones you were talking about are."

"Oh, yeah," Peter said. "What are Infinity Stones?"

"Well, we do have a while before we're reaching our destination, so I might as well tell you," Mr. Stark said. "Buckle up, kids."

━━━━━━🕷━━━━━━

HAVEN: this chapter definitely got away from me in terms of length but i actually really like it!! tony is the ultimate uncle-figure to cecelia (aka the best replacement for richard you could possibly find). and you KNOW that no matter what dr. strange says, he'd do anything for those stupid kids. i love them all sm <333

we're meeting the guardians next chapter!! truly one of the most iconic scenes in the mcu, if we're being honest. i hope you're excited :)

thanks for reading!! <3333