[ open post: spidey-verse ]

[spidergwanda]

what’s up spiders

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[spinsterest]

May is...a little tired.

The chaos in the immediate wake of Peter's death had, in some ways, made it a lot easier to deal with. She had other people who needed her help -- another Peter -- and they had all been so swept up in it that there hadn't been time to be so weighted down with grief. For a little bit, just a little bit, it had been like her Peter hadn't really died at all, like he was just...somewhere else. But afterward, when the dust and snow had settled, it had only gotten harder. She didn't think she'd feel quite so lonely when all those others had gone home. It had been nice having a full house again, even if just for a little while.

But now she's terribly aware of just how big this house is without her Peter, and it feels so empty without him. MJ comes around, and Miles comes around, of course -- but at the end of the day, it's a silent house she bids goodnight, with no promise of nighttime homecomers.

It's probably just as well that she can't sleep when the doorbell rings. She's tense when she goes to answer it, expecting another misguided fan, maybe, but the baseball bat is still in her hand when she opens the door. But the lone figure on her doorstep isn't even wearing a costume. He doesn't need to, not with those eyes -- that face. That voice. She'd heard her name in that voice before, with that little catch, and it sticks in her heart. She's struck with a double dose of déjà vu, and it hits hard.

"Peter?"

Her voice is barely audible, but the neighborhood is so quiet. Already, without thinking, she's tossed down the baseball bat, taking one halting step to him at a time, her hands raised to touch his face.

[made_up_names]

It's him all right. Brown-haired, but surely that isn't as much of a shock after Peter B? It would stand to reason there'd be other versions of Peter with dark hair. And besides, there are similarities too. A Parker look to him in general, much like Ben had had. It's not exact, but close enough to be a twin or a brother. A much younger brother...

He's looking at her in turn as well. She's so much older than he remembers? His May had complained about gray hairs but didn't seem to actually have any; this May is all silver and looks like she's just had the hardest month of her life. Which, y'know, she almost certainly has. But May is May, and - oh, god, when she reaches out for him he can't take it. From the first instant he'd started to realize he probably wasn't coming home from Titan, he'd desperately wanted to see his Aunt again. Out of anyone else in the whole damn world ...

"Y-yeah," he chokes out. "It's me, May. Sorry - sorry it took so long." She's not his May and he's not her Peter, but - does that really matter? If May decides it matters then fine, he'll just be heartbroken, but. May is May is May. He lets out a strangled little noise and steps forward, putting his arms around her. (His grip is that same blend of gentleness and super strength that her own Peter had had. Impossible to fake, surely.)

[spinsterest]

It doesn't matter -- doesn't matter at all. Her arms go around him automatically, drawing him in tight with a quiet hush. There shouldn't be any more Spider-People around New York anymore, not since Miles destroyed the collider -- but that doesn't matter either right now, not when there's a young boy named Peter here, in need of her. She just holds him tight. She hadn't realized how badly she'd wanted to hold Peter since he died.

"It's alright," she says, her voice almost a whisper, "it's alright." This -- this she can do. She pulls back after a moment, studying Peter's smudged face with serious, concerned eyes.

"Oh, Peter," she murmurs, cupping his cheek in one hand, and she frowns, resolute. There is an unsettling normalcy to all this that she's been desperately craving. "God, look at you. Let's get you inside and cleaned up." She pauses, then grimaces just slightly. "You smell like a landfill."

[made_up_names]

Yeah, uh. Landfill is probably a kind word for it. He'd been bloodied and messy even before he had to fish things out of the garbage. The fire escapes to the face also hadn't done him any kindnesses. But he heals fast, as always, and while there are streaks of blood where he'd taken a blow, it doesn't look like he's seriously hurt. Nothing an ice pack and some antiseptic can't fix.

So, in other words, a fairly normal night by Parker standards. Nostalgic, even. Peter coming home late at night after some crazy fight, bruised to hell, but more or less intact. (Though, maybe her Peter swam in less garbage on the average night.)

He disengages from the hug a little when she cups his face. Wincing a little out of embarrassment more than anything else. His Aunt May knows too, but it's a new thing for them. He's not quite at the point where he walks in the door while openly sporting bruises. "Sorry," he says with a watery smile. "I guess my money has the wrong president on it, so I had to figure out something else." Which did not include theft, thank you very much.