peterchristensen89-blog

[peterchristensen89-blog]

Far From Home

I don’t want the ending for far from home to be something as simple as “Peter’s the new Iron Man”, yay!

No, I want all cameras on Spider-Man after his battles in Europe, in his suit, with reporters asking over and over again “are you the new Iron Man”? Or someone asks if he’s going to be “just like Iron Man”.

Peter laughs and shakes his head. “No way. I’m going to be better than him. Just like he wanted.”

Peter takes off his mask. And shows himself to the world. “Because I am Spider-Man.”

[peterchristensen89-blog]

War on the Homefront  - Chapter One (Stucky Fanfic)

In another universe, where the Civil War came to a peaceful conclusion, The Avengers are in retirement.

As a newly married couple, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes dreams of returning to their life before the serum.

As an orphan living in a group home, Peter Parker dreams of a loving family.

While Steve bears more than he can handle, Bucky fears of returning as the shell of the Winter Soldier, and Peter worries of losing another family. 

Together, they can handle any obstacle the world throws at them.

Together, the three have a chance at a happy, peaceful, domestic life.

A life their friends and allies are going to make damn sure stays safe, and keep the soldiers from ever returning to the battlefield.  

Or, the story of how Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Peter Parker became a family.

Read on AO3 or Under the Read More

A sunny afternoon crept inside the Queens Memorial Group Home. Though paned glass windows, a rainbow of colors scattered over the common area.  Dozens of children, set up in chairs and tables, played toys and board games with a large group of adults. “National Adoption Day” emblazoned a white banner crossing the top of the ceiling.

Off to the side of the excitement, a little boy perched himself in a window seat.  He leaned against a pillow, nose deep in a thick paperback book. The summer sun bounced off his honey-brown curls, and his pale skin began to pinken from his time in the light.  As the scrawniest boy in the common area, people passed him by without much notice.

The boy sighed, turning a page.  A bookmark with his name, Peter Parker, fell out of the pages.

“You’re looking pretty lonely there, all by yourself.”

Peter gasped, jumping out of his skin. He dropped his book out of his hands, turning to meet a face standing by him at the window.

A man with huge muscles stood before him. Neatly kempt blonde hair covered his head, and a full beard surrounded his face. The man’s warm eyes met Peter’s, and he chuckled at the boy’s response.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you like that,” the man said, in a warm tone. He held up both hands, apologizing profusely. The stranger leaned down, collecting Peter’s book from the floor and handed it to the boy.

Peter caught his breath, collecting his book from the man’s hands. “It’s okay…”

The giant hopped up on the window seat, leaning on the wall opposite of Peter. “What’s your name? Care if I sit with you? I mean, if it doesn’t disturb you.”

“I’m Peter.” He answered. Adjusting his position, Peter sat cross-legged, to give the other man more space. “No, it’s okay. I’ve already read this book a hundred times.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter. My name’s Steve.” He gestured behind him, to a man leaning up against a wall. “That guy over there? His name’s Bucky. He’s my best friend, and we got married about a month ago”

Peter tilted his head, looking over at Bucky. Another giant, like Steve. Though, Bucky had much longer hair, a dark brown, lacked a beard, and seemed… Tired. At the edge of the man’s left sleeve, Peter saw a black metal hand sticking out.  At his feet was a golden retriever, whose harness he grasped onto for dear life.

Steve chuckled. “I know he looks scary, but he’s a little uncomfortable in public.”  He whispered.

“Hi, Steve.” Peter smiled, leaning forward and waving at Steve’s husband. “Hi, Bucky! You don’t look scary at all!”

Bucky’s cold demeanor melted, and a smile finally crossed the man’s pale face.

Steve peered over Peter’s book. “So, how come you’re reading all by yourself?  Don’t you have any friends to play with?”

“No.” Peter pouted. “I used to, but… Harley got adopted.” He glanced over at happy faces of the rest of the orphanage.  The children screamed in joy as they played tag or talked with the grown-ups.  He figured a lot of them would get started on adoptions soon.  “I’m glad Harley found a mom and a dad, but… I miss him.”  

Reaching down, Peter picked up the book, showing it to Steve and Bucky. “Miss Honey let me go to the library early this week. I wanted to reread this book, it was our favorite. We read it together all the time!”

“Harley?” A bright smile crossed Steve’s face. “Wouldn’t happen to be Harley Keener, would it?”

“Yeah!” Peter tilted his head. “How’d you know, Mister?”

“I've got a friend who knows a Harley Keener now,” Steve smirked, tapping Peter’s book. “So, what are you reading?”

“Harry Potter.”

“Harry Potter?” Steve cocked an eyebrow, glancing back to his husband. Bucky shrugged, shaking his head. “Never heard of it, before. What’s it about?”

Peter gasped, mouth dropping. “You don’t know about Harry Potter? Everyone knows what Harry Potter is!”

Steve laughed, scratching his beard. “I’m a little behind on pop culture, sorry.” He gestured to his husband, and Bucky soon joined them on the window seat, making it a tight fit for the three. ”Would you like to read it to us?”

“Are you sure?” Peter dropped his head. “Flash says that reading is boring. He says that’s why nobody ever comes and plays with me on adoption days.”

Steve scoffed, reaching over and ruffling Peter’s hair. “I happen to prefer doing boring things these days. We both do, don’t we, Bucky?”

“I like boring,” Bucky muttered, with a deep tone to his voice. He leaned against the wall, resting his head.  His dog whimpered, licking Bucky's hand.

Peter’s face beamed. He undid his bookmark, flipping back to the front of the book. “Okay! I’ll start over from the good part! When Harry gets his letter from Hagrid, and he gets to leave the dumb boat house!”

+++++

Weeks passed since Peter’s first visit with Steve and Bucky.  Though, it was far from the last time he ever saw the pair of retired soldiers.

Miss Honey accompanied Peter on day trips around the city with Bucky and Steve.  Sometimes all three of them together.  Sometimes with only Steve, or sometimes with only Bucky and sometimes, all three.  To parks, to playgrounds, and even one day down at Coney Island.

Mr. Steve was the fun one, and Peter liked it when he got to ride on his shoulders or play catch together in the park.  He was the talker, and liked sharing stories with Peter when they'd go to museums.  Though, Peter liked it best when Mr. Steve would take him somewhere pretty.  They would sketch together for hours, Mr. Steve teaching Peter how to draw.

Mr. Bucky didn't talk much, but loved reading as much as Peter did.  They went to quiet places on their trips, like to the library, or a movie theatre.  Sarge, Mr. Bucky's service dog, got to tag along wherever they went.  While Peter wasn't allowed to pet Sarge when his vest was on, a few times, Mr. Barnes let Sarge run free in the dog park.  

So on the day when Miss Honey brought Peter into her office instead of out on the town, he was sad. Though as he walked inside, seeing Steve, Bucky, and Sarge all waiting for him, he beamed from ear to ear.

“Steve! Bucky! Sarge!” Peter rushed forward, leaping into Steve’s arms, who hugged the kid right back.

Bucky reached over, ruffling the kid’s hair.

Sarge sat in place on Bucky's feet, wagging his tail.

Miss Honey took her place at the desk, smiling ear to ear. “So, Peter… You’ve spent a lot of time with Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes the last month, haven’t you?”

“Uh huh!” Peter sat on Steve’s lap, grinning. “Mr. Steve and Mr. Bucky are the coolest! I haven't had this much fun since… Ever! I think they’re the nicest people, ever!”

Steve smiled, stifling a laugh. “High praise.”

Bucky bit his lip, turning away to hide a stray tear. He reached down to pet Sarge, who’d planted his head on Bucky’s lap.

Miss Honey nodded, “I’m glad they made an impression. I think they’re charming gentleman myself. Well worth all the paperwork exempting the usual age limitations.” Leaning back in her seat, Miss Honey gestured to the men. “Well, Peter, these two would like to ask you something very important. Something both myself and the State of New York is confident they’re ready to ask you.” She nodded. “Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, please go ahead.”

“Peter-” Steve pulled Peter off his lap, taking a knee as he gave Peter his seat. He took a deep breath, reaching over and intertwining his fingers with Bucky’s. “My husband and I want to try and settle down. We, like the rest of our friends, want to live ordinary lives now that everything’s… Normal.” He dropped his head, taking a long gulp. “Bucky and I always wanted a family. Neither of us had that luxury growing up, but… We can’t have children of our own, even if wanted to.  Both of us have complicated medical histories, so-” He shook his head. “We were hoping that you might help us with that.” Steve looked up, nodding at Bucky.

Bucky nodded, eyes watering. “We want you to be our son...”

Peter’s gasped. He struggled to breathe, clutching his chest. “R-Really? Me?!”

“Yeah! Of course.” Steve grinned, patting Peter on the shoulder. “When I was your age, I liked to sketch and draw in a corner all by myself, and Bucky would be laying on top of me, reading a book. That’s what drew us to you that day, because you reminded us of what we used to be like, ages ago.  That's what we'd like to get back to.  The way we were, from before the War.”

“You’re a tough kid,” Bucky said, lifting up his prosthetic arm and flexing his metal hand. “People think I’m scary. You never did. From day one. Remember?”

Steve nodded. “I feel like the three of us have a lot in common, and could make a strong family unit. And… If you think you’d be okay with having a couple of old, boring soldiers for dads, we’d like to finish up the process and adopt you for real.”

Peter’s face, in a matter of moments, crumbled. Tears rolled down his face, and he broke down, throwing himself into Steve’s shoulder, bawling his eyes out.

“Peter?!” Bucky and Steve yelled, in unison.

Steve cradled Peter in his arms, his own face crumbling in fear. “Peter, what’s wrong?”

“Did I- Say something wrong?” Bucky asked. His hand shook, reaching out and clasping his human hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Y-Y-You want me?” Peter blubbered, raising his head up. Happy tears fell down his face. “Y-y-you want to be my dads?”

Relief flooded Steve and Bucky’s faces. Fresh tears of their own began to flow.

“Of course, Peter! Why wouldn’t we?” Steve said.

Bucky shook his head, with a wry smile. “Yeah… You little punk.”

“…but I’m the boring kid…” Peter wiped the tears away with his sleeves, still trembling in Steve’s arms. “Flash says I’ll never get adopted because nobody likes boring kids. H-H-He said… Nobody would love me ever again…”

“Well, obviously he’s wrong,” Steve smirked, reaching into his back pocket and wiping Peter’s face with a handkerchief. “Bullies are always wrong. No matter where they come from.”

Peter’s face finally cracked with a smile. He reached out, pulling Bucky and Steve into one big hug. Both men were eager to reciprocate.

Miss Honey didn’t bother waiting for Peter’s response. With a smile, she checked a box on the computer screen. She would spend a few days working overtime to ensure the adoption pushed through.

+++++

Peter’s belongings, packed in the back of Steve and Bucky’s truck, rattled along the country road. The three drove outside of the city, upstate in the green countyside. They passed through a security checkpoint with several armed guards.   They all waved and doted over Peter.  

A few minutes from there and Peter watched as they turned down a dirt road.

“Welcome home, Peter,” Steve said, gesturing down the road.

“Wow…” Peter saw the white country home come into view, surrounded by a white picket fence and lined with red clay bricks. Carefully tended rose bushes lined the fences, waving in the gentle summer breeze. A red barn stood in the backyard, with a few crops, a handful of barn animals, and a single goat that bayed upon their arrival. “Your house is so pretty!”

“Thanks…” Steve said, pulling up to the home. He parked their truck, unbuckling himself. “Our friend Tony helped us build it.”

Bucky helped Sarge out from the back of the truck, gathering Peter’s belongings, heading inside the house to unpack.

Peter leaped out of the truck, rushing to the fence. He climbed it, sitting on the top, waving to get the goat’s attention. As he did, he caught sight of a facility down the road. A large building, right on the water, where helicopters were landing and taking off.

“What’s that big building?” Peter asked.

“A training facility.” Steve joined Peter’s side at the fence. “Bucky and I work there a few days a week, while you’re at school. We’re a couple of retired soldiers now, but we’ve got a lot of expertise that can help teach the next generation.”

The goat, after belting in their faces, allowed Peter to pet him.  Peter hugged the goat around the neck.

Bucky rejoined the others, with Sarge leaping out of the house beside him, without his harness. The dog ran straight for Peter, jumping up and begging for the boy’s attention. His tail wagged from side to side, sweeping dust into the air.

“Sarge doesn’t have to wear his vest?” Peter asked, careful not to touch the dog.

“Not when I’m home.” Bucky helped Peter off the fence, planting him in front of the dog.  “You can pet him. Or play with him. He likes to fetch.”

“Yay!” Peter yelled, wrapping his arms around the dog’s neck. He giggled, as Sarge licked his face.

The new family stayed outside for most of the afternoon, enjoying the first signs of summer.

Peter chased after Sarge for hours. He and the dog raced after a ball that Steve would throw high into the air, across the expanse of their property. Rarely would Peter ever win, but Sarge would dutifully deposit the ball into the boy’s hands.

Bucky introduced Peter to their farm animals and showed him their little garden. They worked together, picking ripe tomatoes and a basket full of vegetables. All while Peter went out of his way to hug every chicken, cow, and rooster on their land.  Their goat, Billy, never left Peter's side.

When dusk fell overhead, Steve collected the vegetables on one shoulder and hefted Peter up on the other. They walked inside their country home, dropping Peter over the threshold.

Gasping, Peter walked inside the warm home. Hand-crafted wooden furniture, big enough for two, dotted the room.  Old devices stood on tables.  Black and white framed photographs of another era hung on the walls. The only modern addition was a flat-screen television, gathering dust on a wall.

“Sorry, it’s not fancy. Bucky and I don’t need a lot, and our mothers raised us in a different era, so we don’t like clutter.“

“So cool!” Peter cut off Steve, running through the house and eyeing each photograph.  Some were out on the field, some in bars, but all captured still images of soldiers.  He beamed, inspecting an old record player, with a wide range of vinyl discs to choose from. “These are like the ones Miss Honey took us to see in the Smithsonian!”

Steve and Bucky both flinched as if punched in the gut.

Peter’s tour ended as he approached the farthest corner in the room. A full window took up an entire section of the house, with a large seating area, covered in pillows. Built-in shelves lined the window, stuffed with art supplies and well-worn hardbacks.

As Peter approached, he noticed an art easle, with a half-painted canvas adorning it.  He recognized Steve and Bucky on the end of the picture, clinking glasses together.  Beside them was a beautiful woman in red, with long brown curls.  A posh man with a sharp mustache, and a clean-cut man in a sharp suit and tie clinked drinking glasses together.  

“Woah! This looks so good!” Peter looked up at his fathers. “Who painted this?”

“Steve.” Bucky nudged his husband in the arm, sliding down beside Peter.

“You did?!”

“I did.” Steve plopped down onto the window’s seat, admiring the canvas.   He smiled, a deep blush crossing his face. “Started taking the hobby back up when I retired. Do you like it?”

“Uh huh! I like the background, it looks like something from an old movie! What is that place? It looks so fancy!” Peter asked.

“It’s a dance hall,” Steve said, gesturing to the warm reds and golds in the background. “A place where old soldiers would go to celebrate the end of the war.  They'd dance and drink all night long. Or at least… That’s what people tell me."  He bit his lip.  "This is what I imagined it would have looked like, anyway.”

“That’s you and Bucky, right?” Peter pointed to the sketch. “Who’s the pretty lady and those men?”

“Peggy Carter, my old love and one hell of a soldier. Put Barnes and me here to shame on more than one occasion.”  Steve’s shoulders sunk. Bucky was quick to reach out, grasping his husband’s free hand. A small smile crossed Steve’s face. “Right beside her is Howard Stark and Edwin Jarvis. A couple of old friends.”

"They look happy!"  Peter grinned.  "Can I meet them, some day?"

Steve's mouth gaped, lost for words.

“Room?” Bucky asked, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on Steve’s cheek. He gestured across the house.

Steve shook his head, turning the easel and canvas away. “Right, right…” He stood, clasping his hands together. “Ready to see your bedroom?”

“I get my own room?!” Peter’s jaw dropped.

“Of course you do, kiddo.” Steve took Peter’s hand, leading him through the house.  “Right next door to ours.”

A short way down the main hallway, Steve opened the door to Peter’s room.

“I know it’s old-fashioned, but… We didn’t know what kids these days liked.” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Peter walked inside. Much like the rest of the house, Peter’s room was minmalistic. Inside stood a handcrafted, wooden bed, desk, chair, and a couple of bookcases. Filled with books, the bookshelves had plenty of reading material to choose from.  Some of Steve’s sketches hung on the wall, sketches he’d taken on day trips with Peter around the city. Peter even saw where Bucky hung up all Peter’s clothes from the orphanage, and tucked his teddy bear away on the young boy’s bed.

Speechless, Peter stood slack-jawed in the middle of the room.

Steve sighed, running his hands over the carved wood of the desk. “Bucky and I always wanted a desk of our own growing up. I know that’s probably not a big deal, but-“ He shook his head. “We figured if you didn’t like it, we could always go out and get you something from a store. Tony said we were nuts to not have something called a One Box, but we-”

“I get my own bed? A real bed?!” Peter squealed, running up and throwing himself on the soft white sheets. He grabbed at the thick pillows and his teddy bear, holding them under both arms. “This is all mine?! Really?!”

Steve’s worry melted away. He leaned to the side, wrapping his arm around Bucky, holding his husband. He nodded, chuckling. “Yep. All yours, kiddo.”

Peter squealed again, inspecting all the detail in his desk. Though, he was quick to rush to the bookshelves, running his fingers over the spines of the books. “Look at all the books! Can I read these?”

“Of course you can. The books are all yours, now.” Steve nudged Bucky in the stomach. “Bucky spent a month getting your room ready. He did all the woodworking and did all the shopping to get you stocked with a good library.”

A blush crossed Bucky’s face. He huffed. “I like woodwork.” He flinched as Peter ran into him, crushing him with a hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Peter lifted his head, teary-eyed. “You’re the best dads, EVER.”

Taken aback, Bucky froze. He stood awkwardly, but found a smile. He picked Peter up, embracing the boy with both of his arms. “You’re welcome.”

Steve wiped something out of his eyes, patting both his boys on the shoulder. “Why don’t you grab a book and come on into the living room? I’ll start on dinner, and you can sit with Bucky and read while it cooks?”

Following his father’s advice, Peter perused his new shelves and picked a book. He walked back to the windowed seat with Bucky, holding his father’s prosthetic hand the entire way.

Bucky grabbed his own book, and they settled into the last remnants of the sunset.  Peter propped himself up, laying his head on Bucky’s chest. Sarge soon joined them, resting his head in the soldier’s lap.

They read in shared silence, with only the occasional yawn from Sarge or the sound of sizzling meat in the other room interrupting them.

Though, an odd “click” caught Peter’s attention as Bucky stretched out. His eyes turned to his father’s black and gold prosthetic arm, labeled with “Stark Industries” on the bicep. The arm was very realistic, with metal shaped in much the same way as a healthy arm would be. Though, as he eyed the scar tissue right at the border of where the skin ended, and the black metal started, Peter frowned. Sharp, jagged edges of skin, forked in every direction.

“Does it hurt?” Peter asked.

“Hm?” Bucky lifted his head, gazing down at Peter.

Peter reached out, touching the scar. “Your arm… Does it hurt?”

Bucky paused, shaking his head. He offered Peter a smile. “No. Not anymore.”

Unsatisfied with the answer, Peter pouted. “It looks like it hurts.”

A sly smile crossed the old soldier’s face. With his other arm, Bucky tapped the top of his shoulder. “Want to see?”

“See… What?” Peter asked.

Pressing a button down the side of his body, Bucky flinched for a second. The arm popped out of its socket, earning a shocked gasp from Peter. Bucky reached up, detaching the arm from his body, and presented it to Peter. “See? Doesn’t hurt.”

“Whoa…” Peter took his father’s arm, inspecting the complex machinery. The glanced back up at his father, now armless on his left side, in awe. “You can take your arm on and off?”

Bucky nodded.

“You are so cool!” Peter handed Bucky his arm back and watched in awe as his father re-attached it.

The arm lit up as he shoved it into the socket, and it whirred for a few minutes before Bucky could move it again. He flexed his hand, showing it to Peter. “Promised. It doesn’t hurt.”

Reading time devolved into playtime, as Bucky showed Peter the limits of his arm. One armed pull-ups in the hallway. An arm-wrestling match with Peter. Even letting Peter swing from his metallic arm, like a makeshift jungle-gym. Peter giggled, watching his father’s feats of strength, over and over again.

Even Bucky’s usually stoic expression softened, letting Peter hang from his arm as they joined Steve at their dining table for dinner. He dropped Peter into his seat, earning a playful eye-roll from Steve.

“Good to see Tony’s products live up to the hype. He should add “kid tested” to his new prosthetic line.” Steve laughed, setting the table with several dishes.

Peter drooled over the mountain of food. At least 10 steaks, 20 baked potatoes, and a sea of grilled green vegetables that could feed an army.

“Wow… You guys eat a lot!” Peter exclaimed.

“It’s a long story.” Steve chuckled, cutting up a steak for Peter and piling it high with food. “You better eat up, too, kiddo. My ma would skin me alive if she saw how scrawny you were.”

“Mine too,” Bucky added.

+++++

When dinner finished, Bucky washed dishes, handing them off to Peter to dry and Steve returned the plates to their proper shelves. As soon as the table and kitchen were spotless, they all turned to the living room for the evening.

“Can we watch some TV?” Peter asked, eyes gleaming over the high-definition flat screen.

Steve and Bucky exchanged a knowing, panicked look.

“Uh, sure!” Steve exclaimed, walking over to the flat screen and retrieving the tiny black remote. “I think I can probably work this thing… Maybe? Tony showed me how it worked. Once.”

Peter helped himself to the couch as Bucky and Steve fiddled with the remote. In ten minutes, they manage to turn on the television, turn off the tv, change the screen’s language settings to Russian, and eventually make it to the main menu.

Bucky took the remote, growling under his breath as he pressed every button simultaneously. “Stark's full of it. He said this was easy.”

Retaking the remove before Bucky crushed it, Steve repeatedly pressed the red power button. “I think I remember Tony saying something about there being TV on a Netflix? That’s the red button, right?”

“I thought TV was Hulu?” Bucky asked.

“No, I think it was Netflix. He said there was an office we should watch?”

“Why would we watch an office?”

“I don’t know.” Steve rolled his eyes.  “I miss radio shows...”

Peter giggled, rushing between his fathers and jumping up to steal the remote. “Steve! It’s so easy! Here!” With only a few button presses, Peter navigated to the main menu and made it to the streaming services area. “Now we can watch anything!”

Steve and Bucky stood in awe.

“Nice one, Peter. Stark can eat his heart out! We don’t need him anymore, do we Bucky?” Steve collected Peter, lifting him up and tossing him in the air.

Bucky caught the squealing child, as all three of them and Sarge found their perfect spot on their couch. “Nope.”

Leaning on Steve’s shoulder, Peter kicked his legs up on Bucky’s lap. “What can we watch?”

Steve shrugged. “Anything you’d like to watch, Peter. Maybe a cartoon?”

“I don’t care, Steve.” Peter shrugged right back, eyes lighting up. “What about your list? You said you had a list of things you wanted to watch, right?”

Steve chuckled. “I suppose, but… Really, tonight’s all about you, Peter. We can watch my shows some other time.”

Peter huffed. “What shows?!”

Bucky smirked. “I Love Lucy.” He winked at Peter. “Top of his list.”

“Okay!” Peter navigated through all the streaming services until they found the old black and white classic sitcom.

For hours, the three watched the crazy antics of Lucille Ball and her friends. Steve burst out in laughter when Lucy fooled herself into thinking Ricky was trying to murder her. Peter giggled watching Ethel pretend to conduct a séance. Bucky snorted when Lucy chopped up a fake fur coat to terrify her husband.

After half a season of episodes, however, Peter yawned. His head buried itself in Steve’s shoulder, on the verge of deep sleep.

“Tired?” Bucky asked, poking Peter.

“Uh huh…” Peter rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “But I can stay up…”

“We’ve got all the time in the world, kiddo.” Steve turned off the television, collecting Peter in his arms. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”

With some help from Steve and Bucky, Peter managed to get himself into nightclothes, teeth brushed, and tucked into bed with his teddy bear. As Bucky flipped off the lights, Peter whimpered.

“Steve? Bucky?”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, sitting on the edge of Peter’s bed.

Peter hugged his bear, pouting. “I- I’m scared of the dark… C- Can you leave a light on?”

“Of course.” Steve reached over, flipping on a lampshade. He noticed Peter’s frown remained prominent, even in the light.

“Nervous?” Bucky asked.

Peter hid his face behind his teddy bear. He nodded, sniffling. “Harley used to sleep by me at the home. When Harley went away… I got a new roommate. He snored. But… I liked it.” Lifting his head, the boy’s face was beet red. “I don’t like being alone.”

With little hesitation, Steve crawled into bed with Peter, leaning up against the headboard. Bucky joined them, sitting at the foot of Peter’s bed. Sarge leaped up, curling at Peter’s only exposed side.

“Me either,” Steve said, gently patting Peter’s head. “We can stay in here with you until you fall asleep. How’s that sound?”

Sniffling, Peter nodded, finally laying his head down on his pillow. He shut his eyes, as the exhaustion of the day finally overtook him.

-and while they’d promised to stay at Peter’s side until he’d fallen asleep, neither Steve, Bucky, or Sarge moved from their post until the following morning.

[peterchristensen89-blog]

A Perfect Fit - Chapter 2

Peter Parker is a high-school graduate, on his way to Empire State University.  As a potential Stark Internship candidate, Peter dreams of the day working under his idol, Tony Stark.   Unfortunately, life remains as cruel as ever.

An attack by a supernatural gang, The Demons, leaves the streets of Queens laced with a new bio-plague.  With thousands dead at the hands of “The Devil’s Breath”, only Peter Parker stands alive in the wake of the attack, saved by his Aunt May.  Transformed by Devil’s Breath, Peter learns from Tony Stark that he’s far from human anymore.  A Super-Soldier with the power of the Hulk, the control of Captain America, and the stealth of Black Widow.  And, oddly enough, he can stick to surfaces like a spider.  

As the only living human with an immunity to the plague, Peter is the last hope of the Avengers.  The only weapon they have against The Demons and their cruel leader, Mister Negative.  With his newfound powers and training from Iron Man himself, Peter races against the clock with the help of the Avengers to stop The Demons.  To stop Mister Negative’s crusade of revenge, and save the life of his last living relative.

By any means necessary.

Read on A03 or Below the Read More

Celebrating at Mr. Lee's pizza parlor was a lifelong tradition of the Parker family. With their stomachs full of pizza and ice cream of a legendary chef, Peter and May made their way home. Dusk fell overhead, covering the city in a blanket of shadows.

“That was an amazing dinner. Thanks, May.” Peter said, stretching out into the warm sky.

“You’re very welcome, kiddo. I’m glad I get to spoil you every now and then.” May leaned over, grasping Peter’s cheek and tugging it. “Especially when you deserve it, Mr. #1 Intern!”

“May!” Peter freed himself from May’s grasp. He grinned, stopping at a busy crosswalk as a sea of traffic opened up. “Well, one of these days when I’m rich and successful, I’ll treat you to a buy one get one free dinner myself! Then I can spoil you!”

“Fuck that, you little cheapskate!” May ruffled Peter’s hair as the signal ahead of them turned green. She walked forward, pulling Peter into a headlock. “You’re getting me shrimp and lobster! I also demand a single-story house in the countryside with four corgis and a grandchild to dote over."

Peter rolled his eyes, shoving May off from him. “Two corgis, and a major “maybe” on the grandkid thing.”

“Three Corgis, and if I get a chihuahua, I can live without a grandchild.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” Peter reached back, folding his hands behind his head. He winked at May. “Have to check the budget, but I bet I can manage that.”

“Bestill my heart!” May gasped, reaching over and kissing him on the cheek. “Larb you.”

Peter chuckled. “Larb you, too.”

They continued their journey in silence, getting through the worst of the city’s foot traffic. With home roughly a mile away, Peter paused as May’s footsteps grew softer. He turned around, spotting May standing still, a way's back.

“May?”

Brought back to reality, May shook her head. She caught up to Peter, biting at her lip. “I don’t think I tell you enough how proud I am of you.”

Peter cocked an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“Do you even realize what you’ve accomplished?” May wiped a set of tears from her face, forcing a laugh. “I can’t even fathom it, Peter, you are… The best and brightest of your peers! You beat out sixty thousand other people! All night I’ve been trying to think of what to say. To tell you how incredible that is!” She reached into her massive purse, pulling out a tissue and wiping away the new stains to her mascara. “…but I can’t! I just can’t, Peter, you’re too amazing, and I know if they were still here, Richard and Mary would be… Over the moon. They were the cultured ones in the family, they’d… They’d know what to say, you know? I’m an ER nurse from Queens, for God’s sake! I don’t do feelings well!”

The stars twinkled as dusk finally gave way to night. Peter turned his head to the heavens, allowing himself a brief smile. He nodded, reaching out and pulling May into a tight hug. “Bullshit… You’re the best at everything, you know?”

May reciprocated the hug, patting Peter on the back. “All the jokes and hip parenting aside, I always worried about you, Peter.”

Continuing home, Peter stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You did?”

Nodding, May checked herself in a compact mirror, blotting away the tears. “After you lost your parents and after we lost Ben, I- I always worried you would go down the wrong path. A lot of people I know from the neighborhood lost their way for less.” She shut her mirror, pocketing it back into her purse. “I work such odd hours that I always had to trust you were doing the right thing. When you were 10, I didn’t worry so much, but when you were a teenager… Well, you see the same stories on the news that I do.”

Peter and May stopped at the final crosswalk leading up to their apartment. They waited as traffic sped up in front of them. “You had it hard enough, I-“ He dropped his head. “I wanted… I wanted Mom, Dad, and Ben to be proud of me. I wanted to live the life none of them had the chance to finish. But, above all else, I never wanted to be a burden to you. I mean- I sort of… Fell in your lap, you know?”

May clasped a hand on Peter’s shoulder, gripping it. “Don’t ever think that, Peter.” She smiled. “You are my whole world, and Ben and I couldn’t have asked for a better son.”

Heart thumping, Peter chuckled, taking his turn to steal a tissue from May’s purse. “-and… I couldn’t have asked for a better mo-”

The screeching of tires echoed through the busy street, cutting Peter off mid-sentence. Screams littered the city.

Peter watched an armored van flip through the sky. It crashed in the middle of the intersection before his eyes. Sparks flew as it came to a sliding stop, crashing into half a dozen vehicles.

Peter’s eyes fell to the van, with its back hatch a smoldering hole of black and white flames. Silver air tanks fell from the hole, scattering over the pavement.

 “Oscorp Medical - Making a Brighter Tomorrow Today”

The public panicked from the flicker of flames now engulfing the wrecked vehicles. Peter felt May’s arm’s yank him away from the crowd. They missed the stampeding herd, hiding beneath a storefront.

“Oh my God!” May dropped her purse, pulling out her antique flip phone and dialing a number. “I have to call the police and get the first responders out here immediately, there’s no way those people are okay. Peter, whatever you do, stay back!” She brought up the phone to her ear, gasping. “Hello, Jimmy? This is May Parker from Queens Memorial! Get every ambulance you can find down by Ben’s old place, there’s been a-“

May froze, watching as an entourage of men in suits and ties arrived on the scene. Each wore an oriental mask of black and white, with the disfiguring guise of a demon. They surrounded the street, cutting off the fleeing citizens. The demonic men waved Swords, guns, and polearms in the air, screaming in a foreign language. Their weapons glowed a blinding white but flickered with black shadows at the edge.

“Forget the EMTs, Jimmy, get every fucking gun and SWAT team in the state you’ve got! This could be a massacre!!” May spat, grabbing Peter and shoving them both behind a pile of dumpsters in a nearby alleyway.

“May…?” Peter whispered, body frozen in place.

May shushed him, reaching into her bag and retrieving a stun-gun. She positioned herself in front of Peter, flipping the tool on. They watched the Demons rally around the Osborn Van.

A single man stepped forward, the only one without a mask. The man's skin swirled in darkness, while his clothes shone a bright white. With a wave of his hands, shadows appeared, extinguishing the flames around the wreck. He gazed among the citizens, with a wry smile crossing his face. “Making a brighter tomorrow, today... How noble…”

Peter watched the glowing man grab one of the air tanks, setting it upright, where it stood as tall as he was. The same man brandished a glowing sword from his hip. He laughed as dark shadows enveloped the blade.

“As you move onto the next life, never forget those words….”

In a single strike, he sliced the top of the air tank as if it were butter. A cloud of crimson red smoke soared into the sky, spreading over the busy street like snow.

In one moment, Peter felt the contents of May’s purse spill out over his lap. In the next, May covered his face and neck with the now-empty purse. She tackled Peter to the corner of the building, slamming his face as close to the ground as she could.

“May? MAY!” Peter yelled, struggling to reach out for her.

A strange wetness coated his arms, burning to the touch. Peter screamed, overcome by a pungent floral scent. Darkness overtook Peter as his eyes forced shut.

When Peter next opened his eyes, his head ached, throbbing as a wave of danger overcame him. An overwhelming fear, which resulted in his bladder relieving itself.

“Ma… Ma… May-” Blood dribbled from Peter’s mouth as he spoke, coughing up and coating the inside of May’s purse.

Every bone and muscle in his body screamed in agony, struggling to even lift his hands. As Peter removed the purse, and when the world came into focus, all he saw were bodies, collapsed all around the streets.

Men. Women. Children. Tourists. Animals. Birds. Each and every life around them snuffed out in an instant. There was no movement. There was no noise. For the first time in decades, New York slept.

A cough brought Peter out of his trance. He glanced down, watching as May lifted her own head, her t-shirt wrapped around and knotted by her mouth and nose. She wobbled as Peter did, blood-red tears streaming down her face.

“R-” May coughed, splattering her t-shirt with a red goop. Her arms gave way, collapsing onto the ground. “-un.”

“May?” Peter crawled to May’s level, hissing as his efforts to shake May met with bone-splitting agony.

     “Martin… What should we do with the rest of the stuff?”  

Peter’s wave of fear returned. He craned his neck around, watching as the demonic gangsters collecting the air tanks. Many of them bowed in reverence to the glowing one, “Martin.”

“Take the rest of the tanks to Oscorp Labs. Release the Devil’s Breath and leave no survivors. Kill anyone involved with the project. Is that understood?” Martin answered, slicing the armored van's back doors with his blades.

“Yes, Master Li!” The Demons answered, walking out of Peter’s field of view.

Peter watched Li step inside the armored van and moments later, reappear. He now held a silver briefcase in his hands. A wry smile crossed the man’s face. “When the Avengers and the authorities arrive, make sure to give them a taste of our hospitality. However, if the tin can shows up, ensure that you’ve punctured his suit before deploying the Breath. It can only live in the air for six minutes before it dies.” Li opened the case, retrieving a slender vial of blue liquid. “-and with this… Not even God himself can save Norman. Finally… I’ll have my revenge.”

Li pocketed the vial, striding away from the scene of the crash. Right in the direction of Peter and May.

Whimpering, Peter worked through the pain, grabbing at May’s wrist and trying to pull her as far into the shadows of the alley as he could. After a single pull, Peter vomited blood, coating the alleyway in a putrid mixture of red and black.

“Clever woman.”

Peter froze in place as Li approached them, bending down to Peter’s level. As he lifted his head, Peter met the abyss of darkness in Martin Li’s eyes. A neverending, swirling vortex of negativity and hate.

Martin reached out, inspected the blood-soaked purse and chuckled at the red stains on May’s shirt. “She stopped the worst of the Breath from reaching your lungs… Quick thinking, to be sure. Allow me to remedy that.”

Li stood, brandishing his sword. As he took a step towards May, Peter’s arm swung out on instinct alone, grasping Li by the ankle. To Peter’s surprise, the pain from that short movement was… Bearable.

“Oh?” Marin hummed, glancing down at Peter.

“Don’t… Touch… Her…” Peter spat, covering Li’s glowing white shoes in a bloody splatter.

Li chuckled. “You misunderstand me, boy.” Effortlessly, Li kicked Peter’s hand away, sending the young man flying into a wall.

Peter grunted as he struck the bricks, but felt little more than a numb thud to his back. He rolled over, struggling to his hands and knees, eyes zeroed in on Li.

“You two will suffer most of all. At that low of a dosage, your bodies won’t die from the sensory overload. Instead, your body must acclimate to the disease before it perishes.” Li pressed his blade against May’s throat. “Your bodies will rot from the inside out as you despair and cling to your pitiable lives. I have seen it a million times over. There is no saving you or this woman… There is no hope to be had. All that’s left… Is Death.”

Peter lifted an arm, crawling forward.

Li shook his head, sighing at Peter’s display. “Death would be a kind release for you and this woman. This meaningless struggle will do you no good. So I ask you, boy, what will it be? The sweet release of death and the joy of joining your loved ones in the afterlife? Or the agony of life that awaits you, as you spend each day wishing I’d ended it all for you?”

Sirens rang in the distance.

Wordlessly, Peter hobbled on his arms to May’s side, covering her body with his. He reached out, grabbing the flat end of Li’s blade and slapping it away. He shook, as a powerful wave struck him. “Leave her alone!” Peter screamed, as his voice finally returned to him. Clear tears rolled down his face. “Don’t touch her, you- You monster!”

Li sheathed his blade, smirking. He turned his back on Peter, with little more than a scoff. “Brave words, young man.”

Red and blue lights shone in the distance, as sirens blared, breaking the silent hold over Queens.

“-you’ll wish for death in the end. They all do.”

Peter’s vision blurred as Martin Li vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but a wisp of white smoke in his place. Before the darkness retook him, Peter saw officers in the distance and screamed for help. Over and over again, as he clutched onto May’s body, which struggled to catch even the tiniest breath.

+++++

Queens Memorial Hospital.

In little under 72 hours, tens of thousands came and went through their doors, maxing out capacity several times over. 80% left in body bags. 19% induced into medical comas to preserve what little chance they had.

Peter, to his dismay, was 1%. The lone survivor of the Devil’s Massacre.

“Your aunt saved your life when she covered your face, Peter. Aside from odd test results, all your organs are in perfect condition. The dosage was so small, your body is fighting back and winning against this disease. You can go on and live a long, healthy life, Mr. Parker. It truly is a miracle.”

Peter opened his eyes. Like all the days before, the same hospital room. The same rhythmic beeping of May’s life support system. The same blackened veins that now protruded across May’s body. The same prognosis.

“Some miracle,” Peter whispered, balling his hand into a tight fist. He rose from the chair at May’s side, choking back tears as he saw a new set of black veins now crossing the left side of her face. Like snow, May’s lips were devoid of all color. “Some fucking miracle!”

Peter’s fist found the nearest wall, leaving a noticeable hole in the foundation of the hospital wall. As Peter pulled his fist back, he examined his knuckles. To his surprise, he came away without a single scratch.

He collapsed to his knees, grasping May’s hand. A sob wracked his body. “Don’t go, May… Please, I don’t want you to go! Please, don’t go, I need you!” Tears littered the floor beneath him. “I can’t lose you, too… You’re all I have left!”

While Peter cried, the door to the room slid open. Footsteps echoed behind Peter, and he wiped away his tears before standing. “What the fuck do you want? I said no visitors. Period.” Peter spat.

 “Mr. Parker… There is a guest to see you and your aunt. Would you mind-”

“Go away,” Peter ordered, recognizing the Hospital Director’s voice.

“Mr. Parker-” The Director asked again, falling short of little more than a pained sigh.

Peter shook his head, grabbing the raining of May’s bed and snapping it in half. “I’ll tell this “guest” like I told everyone else. I don’t want scans, I don’t want an interview, I’m not talking to the police, or SHEILD, or the Governor, I don’t want treatments, I’m not giving you a goddamn sample of ANYTHING, and I sure as hell don’t need CPS, I’m a goddamn adult!”

Peter’s voice echoed throughout the hospital, rattling the windows. Out of breath, Peter shuddered. “Let me be with my Aunt in peace. You can ask me anything you want after she’s gone. You won’t have to wait long.”

“I’m not here for that.” A woman spoke.

Peter’s chest tightened, recognizing the soft tone immediately. He paused, turning around to meet the pale features of Pepper Stark, CEO of Stark Industries. Sharply dressed, with her ginger hair kept in a bun. Accompanying her were several women in lab coats.

Pepper stepped forward, “I am here… To ask for your help.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter turned away. He walked to the window at the edge of May’s room, staring out into the city.

Pepper stepped inside the room, joining Peter’s side by the window.

“You’re a man of science, Mr. Parker. A brilliant man of science. Your dissertation, truly, was one of the best we’ve had in over a decade.” Pepper dropped her head. “You’re not getting sicker, Mr. Parker, you’re getting… Stronger. You were at ground zero of the attack. Even with your Aunt’s intervention, you were still exposed to a heavy dose of Oscorp’s undiluted Devil’s Breath.” Reaching out, Pepper grasped Peter’s shoulder. “So I know you’ll understand what that means. Your body is fighting the Devil’s Breath when everyone else infected has died or is waiting to die.”

Peter shoved Pepper’s hand off his shoulder, brushing past her as he rejoined May’s side. He sat, ignoring Pepper’s gaze. “…I have immunity. Or I’m building one.”

“Yes.” Pepper followed Peter, bending down beside him. On her knees, Pepper took both of Peter’s hands in her own. “Peter, you are the key to saving the lives of the people of New York. Possibly the world. If we had a sample of your blood, it could go a very long way to advance our efforts at Stark Industries. I know you’ve ignored our calls up until now, but it’s-”

“…May’s only got a few days.” Peter stole his hands back, gazing at May’s body. “Her organs are shutting down. She’s rotting from the inside, just like that bastard said. Nobody can save her in time.”

Pepper paused, collecting herself. “There are others who are suffering as well, Peter. People miles away from the attack, who have more time.”

“Why should I care about anyone else?” Peter asked.

A visible chill ran down Pepper’s body. The Hospital Director cringed, as did Pepper’s entourage.

Peter shrugged, laughing in Pepper’s face. “Maybe Li was right. Maybe death really was the answer. Sure as hell sounds more appealing than burying the last person I loved.” He stood from his chair, waltzing past Pepper.

Shooting up, Pepper grabbed Peter by the shoulder, struggling to find her breath. “I understand the pain you’re going through right now, Peter, and I know the world doesn’t seem fair, but-“

Peter slapped Pepper’s hand away, shoving her backward. His voice cracked as he laughed. “No.. No, you don’t know how I feel!” He yelled, pressing his face inches away from Pepper’s “Once, I can handle. Twice, I’ll suffer through, but three times, and I-“

 “Peter, sweetie… Your mom and dad… Were in an accident.”

 “Ben… Ben won’t make it home tonight, Peter… He… He did what any good cop would do. ”

 “I’m sorry, young man. There’s nothing more we can do for her. I’ll try my best to make her comfortable, but… She only has a few days.”

Peter roared, backing away from Pepper, slamming his fists against the wall. “I can’t do it anymore…” He slid down the wall, tucking his knees under his chin. “I won’t do it anymore,” Peter muttered.

“Yes, you can.”

All eyes in the room turned to the doorway. A scruffy, muscular man forced his way in. He pushed past Pepper’s team of doctors and aiming straight for Peter. Peter’s eyes landed on a glowing blue machine in the middle of the man’s chest.

“Because you have to, Mr. Parker. I’m not giving you a choice.”

Tony Stark reached down, grabbing Peter by the scruff of his shirt and forced him to his feet.

[peterchristensen89-blog]

A Perfect Fit - Chapter 1

Peter Parker is a high-school graduate, on his way to Empire State University.  As a potential Stark Internship candidate, Peter dreams of the day working under his idol, Tony Stark.   Unfortunately, life remains as cruel as ever.

An attack by a supernatural gang, The Demons, leaves the streets of Queens laced with a new bio-plague.  With thousands dead at the hands of "The Devil's Breath", only Peter Parker stands alive in the wake of the attack, saved by his Aunt May.  Transformed by Devil's Breath, Peter learns from Tony Stark that he's far from human anymore.  A Super-Soldier with the power of the Hulk, the control of Captain America, and the stealth of Black Widow.  And, oddly enough, he can stick to surfaces like a spider.  

As the only living human with an immunity to the plague, Peter is the last hope of the Avengers.  The only weapon they have against The Demons and their cruel leader, Mister Negative.  With his newfound powers and training from Iron Man himself, Peter races against the clock with the help of the Avengers to stop The Demons.  To stop Mister Negative's crusade of revenge, and save the life of his last living relative.

By any means necessary.

Read on A03 or Below the Read More

“May, I’m home!”

Peter stumbled inside the Parker apartment, both arms donning plastic bags. He kicked off his sneakers, popping out his earbuds, and made his way through the modest apartment. Pausing in front of his Aunt’s bedroom, he heard the sound of a shower running. That, and the sound of her off-tempo singing with the radio. Peter rolled his eyes, laughing.

Stepping into his room, Peter felt the summer breeze blowing through the open window. The bustling street of Queens, New York echoed from down below. He tripped over his box of high school memorabilia, knocking out a wrinkled cap and gown.

Peter sat at his computer desk and stared inside of a bright pink terrarium. A fuzzy tarantula scurried in her home at the sight of her owner.

“Karen, you are not going to believe my haul today.” Peter collected his pet and sat her on the top of his hand. With his other hand, he produced a red and gold metallic action-figurine from a thrift store bag. “Look at it! A limited edition 2016 Iron Man Mk 2 Comic-Con exclusive metal-plated model! 80% off! Know why?”

Karen scurried up Peter’s arm, coming to rest on the top of his shoulder, facing away from the figure.

“Oh, come on! At least pretend like you care! Ned’s gone off to MIT, and MJ’s off saving the rainforests! You’re the only one I can talk to!” Peter tugged at the figurine’s arm, which popped off with zero effort. “See that? A huge discount all because the figure’s arm falls off! As if someone couldn’t spend a few hours, a little ingenuity, and five bucks on fixing that! They act like because it’s broken, it’s not worth anything…”

Peter scoffed, staring around his room. Most of his electronics were jury-rigged or in varying states of repair. Like his figurine, most of Peter's possessions were a thrift-store price for retail value.

His eyes fell on a shelf of dozens of other Iron Man figures, each their own shape, size, and model. All, at one point, had been an imperfect copy, like the one in his hand.

“You’d think people would have a little more respect for the world’s greatest hero.” Peter sat the figure on his desk, beside a whole host of tools and parts. As he lifted his head, Peter’s eyes fell to a photograph beside his computer, beside a badge of gold and blue.

Peter picked up the frame, seeing himself as a child in the arms of an officer of the NYPD. Both were smiling. “Well… Second greatest hero…”

Scurrying across Peter, Karen came to rest beside the photograph. She crawled to the top of the frame and settled on Ben Parker’s head.

Sighing, Peter leaned backward in his chair and chuckled. “You’re going to have to give me a break on that one, Uncle Ben… I’ll always love you, but Tony Stark is my idol.” Peter looked past the picture and up at his ceiling. Every inch of it covered with posters of Iron Man, Stark Expos, The Avengers, and Tony Stark. “Mr. Stark is one of the smartest people on the planet! He's Iron Man, Uncle Ben, the coolest superhero of them all! He even turned Stark Industries into something that’s going to change the world! When everyone tried to ignore their climate change findings last month, Mr. Stark flipped off congress and told the President of the United States to suck a dick! He’s so cool, Ben! He’s the man that science and the world need right now, more than anybody!”

Peter put the frame next to the badge, sighing as he collected Karen from the photograph. “But, even then… You’ll always be my number one hero. Always.”

Closing his eyes, Peter’s shoulders fell. He sat in silence, letting out a tired sigh. “…anyway...“ Peter sat a fussy Karen back into her terrarium. Karen made herself home inside a hollowed out plastic tree.

Peter sighed, collecting the other sack, emblazoned with a crimson “ESU” graphic. “My less impressive, haul, Karen.” Peter shook his head, dumping out a pile of college textbooks. “All those AP classes and I still have to take a crap ton of useless classes, Karen! Fun tip, Karen, “Full-Ride” does not always mean “Full-Ride.” Do you know how much this semester, in books alone, is going to cost me? I’ve already burned through the entire Midtown Decathlon Scholarship!” He groaned, laying his head down atop the books, tracing his hand on the glass of Karen’s home. “To put it in a way that you would understand... Enough crickets to feed about a million of you every day for a lifetime.”

Karen poked out from her tree for a moment, her front legs buzzing at the mention of food.

Peter rolled his eyes, reaching for a second plastic container. He popped a few crickets inside the terrarium for Karen to hunt. “…I don’t even want to think about how much the materials are going to cost if I get into the Stark Internship. Do you think they pay for that, or does that come out of the check they pay you? No way it’s free, though. Nothing in life is free.”

“Wait…”

Peter gasped and rushed to his computer. He clicked through his bookmarks to the Stark Internship Application website. After logging in and slamming his mouse many times, Peter reached the "News" section of the site.

 ~

 All dissertations are currently under review.

 Due to the high volume of candidates for the 2019 selections, decisions for internships and research grants will deliver via certified mail in approximately 3 months.

 ~

Peter sunk back into his chair, groaning. He stood up, pacing back and forth in his room. “It’s been three and a half months since the cutoff, Karen! What are they waiting for?!” He stopped, staring outside the window, and to Stark Tower, far off in the distance. It glimmered in the summer sun, like a star in the night sky, so close, but still so far.

A chill overcame Peter, despite the warm sunlight all around him. “What if my dissertation didn’t even make it into the main pile they looked at? Do they even send rejection notices about those?” He folded his arms, head dropping. “What if I mailed to the wrong address? No, no… That’s impossible, I mailed it certified, and made May double checked the address.” Peter clutched his stomach, overcome with a nauseous pain. “What if that pissed someone off?” Peter’s pacing intensified. “What if I made the front desk guy at Stark Industries get up off his butt, and ruined his coffee break? What if he threw it in the trash?! What if they never saw it? Should I call? Should I make sure they even got it?” Peter groaned, slapping himself in the face. “It’s past the deadline! I should have checked BEFORE the cutoff! Now it’d be too late!”

Peter leaned against a wall, sliding down and crumpling into a heap, tucking his legs beneath his chin. “Or what if they hated it?” He turned, now tucked into a tight ball. “What if they took one look at my essay and laughed me into a burn pile?” He banged his head against the ground. “Was I stupid to talk about you and Ben in my essay? I mean… You and Ben are both a big part of my research. You guys inspired it, so I felt like you deserved mention… I thought it was personable. I thought… I should just be myself?”

As Karen munched on a cricket, Peter whined, now splayed on his back and covering his eyes. ”Why didn’t I listen to Ned? Nobody wants that!”

“Can’t you have a mental breakdown with your friends, like a normal kid?”

Peter screamed, spinning around as he spotted May in the doorway to his bedroom. Her long brown hair still damp from a shower. She smirked, hiding the faintest sign of wrinkles that had overtaken her face in recent years.

“Aunt May!” Peter gestured to Karen. “How rude can you be? This is a private conversation!”

May rolled her eyes, hands tucked behind her back as she let herself inside Peter’s room. “Oh please, you’re acting like this is the most embarrassing shit I’ve caught you talking with that thing? Like, oh… Senior year, about a month before Prom, talking to Karen about asking out that cute Junior? You know, the time you went on and on about how much you liked his butt when he wore tight jeans?”

“That never happened and you never heard any of that!” Peter’s face flushed, eyes planted on the floor.

“I know, I know-“ May chuckled, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulder and tucking him in close for a side-hug. She smirked, prodding Peter on the nose. “I happened to overhear your crisis about the Stark Internship. Which reminded me our mailman made me sign for a certified letter while you were out.” May presented Peter with a silver envelope, embellished with an embellished "S". “Stark Industries?”

Peter hitched his breath, standing still for far too long.  He forgot to breathe as his body shook, gasping for air. He struggled to grasp onto the letter, requiring May’s help from dropping it. The sender was the Stark Internship Selection Committee.

“…it’s here. This… This is it.” Peter choked out, voice cracking mid-sentence.

“Yep,” May said, stepping backward, clapping her hands together, and waiting for Peter to act. “Well?”

Peter stared at the letter, noticing how thin it was. Roughly the same size as the junk mail they received daily. His arm dropped, the envelope dangling in his hand.

“Not going to open it?” May slid beside Peter, clasping a hand on his shoulder. She offered a sympathetic smile. “All these months of teenage angst for nothing?”

Peter turned away, hiding the red on his face. “I’m scared, May…. This is…” He bit his lip, hand clenching against the letter, crumpling the edges. “This is everything to me. If I failed, I-”

“Hey-“ May grabbed both of Peter’s shoulders, spun him back around, and brought her face within inches of his. She planted a soft kiss on his forehead. “No matter what’s in that envelope, you’re going to do great things, Peter Parker. You don’t need the approval of Tony Stark or anyone else in this world to tell you that.” Leaning back, May cocked an eyebrow. “This letter does not define your value as a person or your future. Do you understand me?”

Peter’s shoulders unglued themselves. He nodded at May, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Tearing open the envelope, Peter yanked out the letter, unfurling it. He felt the silky-smooth material of the paper, like ice on his hands.

With one final push and a slap to the back of the head from May, he opened his eyes and scanned the letter.

     ~  

 Dear Mr. Parker,

 Out of an approximate 62,600 applicants for the 2019 Stark Industries Internship Program, we are pleased to announce that you have been selected for one of our 10 open positions.

 Your dissertation ranking among the applicants was: 1

 As a result of your ranking, we assign Dr. Anthony Stark as your mentor.

 Your date of employment will begin on August 1st, 2019.

 Stark Industries is also pleased to announce that you have been selected as a candidate for a potential Research Grant due to the content of your dissertation:

      “Chemical Tensility for Law Enforcement Officers – Saving Lives with Non-Violent Webbing Deterrent & Spray-On Ballistic Weaving.”  

 Your presence is requested on July 1st, 2019 for a formal panel interview to defend your dissertation from their professional critique.

 Please bring copies of your research notes and have a presentation prepared to share the theory of your study.  You will present your theory to Stark Industries CEO Pepper Stark, Stark Industries CRO Dr. Anthony Stark, Stark Industries Head of Research and Development, Dr. Bruce Banner, as well as nine representatives of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division.

 Please call to confirm your appointment immediately with my secretary, the number is listed on the back of this letter.

 We look forward to hearing from you and finally putting a face to the most exceptional submission Stark Industries has accepted in the last ten years.

 As CEO, I am excited to see what the future holds for you, Mr. Parker.

 Sincerely,

 Pepper Stark, CEO, Stark Industries

     ~  

“Well?!” May broke the silence, trembling in place as she clasped her hands together. “Peter, you’re killing me here! I just turned 40, you can’t play with my heart like this! Do we celebrate or am I heading out to buy us some eggs to throw at that asshole’s car!?”

Peter gulped, mouth finally parting. “I got it,” He cracked.

May’s mouth dropped a mile. “You got it?”

Peter nodded, tears rolling down his face and dribbling over the letter which he handed to May. He started to laugh. “I got the internship AND an interview for a research grant! May, I got both! I got both!”

May read the letter, and after a brief stint of silence, the woman reared her head back and roared in pure joy. She grabbed Peter, lifted him like a small puppy and spun them around in a tight hug. They squealed in unison, as loud as their lungs could manage.

“I got it!”

“You got it!”

“We got it!” They both yelled together, before tripping over Peter’s textbooks. The duo tumbled to the ground in each other arms on a plush beanbag. The letter fluttered down, landing on Peter’s face.

May grabbed the letter, giggling as she scanned the letter, buzzing from head to toe. “I cannot believe it, Peter! Do you realize how many people’s asses you kicked? I am so-” She rose up from the ground, pausing as she hovered over a single sentence. “Uh, Peter-“ She pointed to a paragraph in the middle. “Sweetheart, this is a “formal” interview.”

Peter rose an eyebrow, taking May’s hand as she helped him up from the floor. “And?”

May laughed, poking at Peter’s chest. “I don’t think your usual wardrobe is going to cut it here. Not even the punny science shirts with the cats on them.”

“Uh-“ Peter turned around, staring into his closet, lined with nothing that even came close to formal. Unless he was going to comic-con, that is... He groaned, shaking his head. “Probably not.”

May set the letter aside, folding her arms. “You’ll need a suit and tie, Peter. Which, unfortunately, is not going to be in either of our budgets.” She bit her lip, eyes staring outside of Peter’s room and down the hallway.

“I’ll call down to Mr. Lee’s pizza place!” Peter ran to his cache of take-out menus, digging through them. “Stan always needs delivery boys, I can save up and find a suit somewhere cheap!”

“Peter, your interview is next week, and suits are expensive. You’d need more than one week's paycheck to afford it, and Stan can only afford part-time. Besides the fact that tips around here are the absolute worst!” May huffed, planting on a pained smile. “Besides, you need time to prepare a presentation. That, and figure out how you’re not going to pass out in front of Tony Stark the instant you meet him.”

Peter frowned, glancing down at the menu. “Then… Should I rent one?” He cringed at the idea, recalling how expensive it’d been at Prom. They’d both had to save for that expense well ahead of time as well.

Taking Peter’s hand, May guided Peter down the hallway. “I think… I’ve got a better idea.”

They stopped at the furthest end of their apartment, to a spare closet neither of them dared to open. A mausoleum of sorts, untouched for almost 8 years now. May sighed, opened it, revealing a wall of plastic totes on one side. The other filled with several well-preserved NYPD uniforms, in clear garment bags.

“May-” Peter muttered.

May pulled out boxes and rummaged through the closet’s contents. “I couldn’t bear to throw anything away after Ben passed on. Still can’t. I know it’s not healthy, but my therapist can kiss my ass. I’ll cope how I damn well please.” She sat Ben’s uniforms gently on the ground, careful not to wrinkle them. She reached the far end of the closet. “Besides, I’d always hoped… One of these days, they might come in handy for you.”

May pulled out another clear bag, this one holding a man's suit and tie. She smiled, unzipping the bag and casting its casing away, admiring the outfit. “Ben wore this to every formal event since I started dating him. He took better care of this than he did his own uniform. Said that every man needs at least one good suit.” She handed it to Peter, letting it fall against his hands. “Turns out he was right.”

Peter nodded, gulping as he slid the jacket from the hanger. He slipped into it, watching as the sleeves slid well past his wrists. Too big in the chest, the suit engulfed him, as the tails of the coat went well past his waist. At least a size and a half too big.

“A little big on you…” May sighed, trying to tuck the suit in at key places, wiping away a tear as she laughed. “I’ll do what I can to help you with the fit, and we can fake it’s a better fit than it actually is. You won’t be able to sit without a needle in your ass, but, hey, women deal with that bullshit all the time in fashion. Welcome to my world, bucko!”

Peter chuckled, letting May help him out of the jacket. “Uncle Ben had some big shoes to fill. A big suit, too, apparently.”

“You’ll grow into it.” May hung the suit back on the hanger, winking at Peter while she slid it back into the garment bag. “Now, enough of this mopey bullshit. I haven’t cried this much since the funeral, and I’ll be damned if we’re going to ruin your big day with bullshit feelings.”

May gathered her oversized purse from the closet door, the suit, and Peter himself. She dragged them both of them towards the front door. “After we chuck this at the dry cleaners, we’re heading to Mr. Lee’s for pizza and ice cream! We’ll eat like kings and pay like peasants!”

“Two for one date night coupon?” Peter smirked.

“Two for one date night coupon.” May winked.

“Hell yeah!” May and Peter said in unison, high-fiving each other as they exited their apartment.