Chapter 1
Mary Parker was absolutely not in labor. Despite what Rich might say, she thinks she knows her own reproductive system better than him. She had already had braxton hicks contractions a month ago, and it felt nearly identical to the contractions she was experiencing now. It was painful, sure, but from the horror stories she had been fed for the past seven months it was not up to bar with real labor. But she loved her husband very much, and he was absolutely panicking, so they were on their way to the hospital, just to be sure.
She knew that she was not in labor because she had a C-section scheduled for the 28th, and she never does anything off schedule. Her son would be the same way, she was sure of it, and it would start with being born in 18 days, not today, not right now. It couldn't be now, because she and Richard had yet to agree on a name. Her current pick was Mateo, after her father, but Rich was dead set on the name Gabriel. Mary was still convincing him that Mateo was a better name, but she needed more time. 18 days exactly, and she knew that.
She was also in no way going to do a natural delivery. She had planned for a C-section since before she had been pregnant, before she had been married, before she had even met Rich. She knew, going into this, that she was going to have a surgery for her son to be born. It was her stipulation when she and Rich had began trying for kids. They had both agreed, they wanted two kids, because Mary hated growing up as an only child and he had loved growing up with Ben. After this one was born, they plan on waiting two years and having another, but after how long it had taken them to get the one they had, who knows if that was gonna stick. There's a lot of unknowables in life. If Mary knew anything, it was that she was not in labor.
~
Mary Parker was in labor. So the doctors tell her, and the pushing helps too. She was determined not to push, but her son apparently disagreed because he suprised them all by both being early and being breech. She had Rich at her side, and she was squeezing his hand tight enough that she was sure she would fracture a bone, but he took it like a champ. She was in the delivery room, pushing as hard as she could, as the doctors all around coached her through it. She was fairly sure she was screaming, but the pain was overwhelming. She couldn't hear herself think past push, push, push.
But then she fell back into the chair, and the doctor didn't tell her to get up again, and the room filled with the loud first wail of her son. She was so, so tired, so she didn't fully register the time from when he was pulled out of her to when he was laid on her chest. Once he was, she was on full alert. Richard was holding him on one side and his other side was leaning into her chest. She was crying. "Hey there." She cooed quietly, loving and happy and content. He was ahead of schedule, but that was alright. She could let it slide. "I'm your máma, mijo." His big brown eyes landed on her, wide and amazed, and she broke.
~
"He doesn't seem like a Mateo or a Gabriel." Mary whispered to her husband, as he cuddled her in her hospital bed. They were both looking at their son, their son, and smiling like nothing in the world was quite as important. Nothing was. Everything they were came down to this. Down to him.
"How can you tell?" Rich laughed.
"A mother always knows." She hummed softly. "He's going to be perfect. He's gonna be just as smart as you, and just as stupid. He'll have my strength, and my coffee addiction. The best parts of the both of us. He's gonna keep us safe."
"Our rock." Rich agreed, looking down at the boy proudly. Then, as he always did when he was tired and delirious from a good day, he slipped into his native language. "Petros."
Mary smiled. This was her boy, the best thing she would ever do. He was her, and he was his father, and he was himself. She knew exactly who he was, and who he would be. "Peter." She said, and Rich smiled down at her sleepily. He nodded, holding her close and falling asleep. Peacefully, she let her eyes slip closed.
~
"Peter!" Rich called out as Peter ran past him, giggling. At six years old, he was already the happiest, brightest kid anyone had seen. He was currently in his Captain America pajamas, and he was dead set on wearing them to the first day of Kindergarten today. "Come on, moráki. Don't you want to wear the nice clothes Papa picked out for you?"
"No! I wan' Cap!" He yelled out, blowing right past Mary into the kitchen as he chased after him. He had been excited about school since Rich had explained the concept to him, but he had never shown any interest in putting on real pants. Unfortunately for him, this was against the dress code of his new school. They had gotten a letter on it, and Rich had been so excited that he had bought Peter an entire new wardrobe of real clothes, most of which he did not want to wear.
Mary to the rescue, grabbing Peter from the air mid-jump and plopping him onto the counter top. "Mijo, I know you love your Captain Americas, but you gotta wear the good clothes at school or they won't let you in. You want that?" Peter's eyes immediately widened in panic, and he shook his head violently. "I know, that's what I thought. So you gotta go with Papa and put on your new clothes."
Peter nodded, and Mary smiled, helping him off the counter and presenting him proudly to her husband. "Can I wear the S'ar Wars one?" He asked his father timidly, and Rich laughed, nodding. Peter had loved the movies the second he watched them, and that (as well as Captain America) had taken up majority of his room decorations.
Rich picked out a shirt with the Millenium Falcon on it, making Peter grin, as well as a pair of little joggers to go with it. Peter tried and failed to tie his converse by himself, so Mary helped him with it. Then the three of them left the apartment and started the walk to Peter's school. They didn't have a car, because they lived in Manhattan, and the school was nearby. They dropped him off quickly, and then he was alone.
He sat in his seat with a blank piece of paper in from of him and decided if nothing else, he could draw. There were crayons in the middle of the table, and he had just finished with the blue when someone sat in the seat across from him and began to watch. "Is that a lightsaber?" They asked, and Peter nodded. "That's so cool! I love Star Wars!"
Peter lit up, turning to the boy. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, and he was wearing a shirt with an R2D2 on it. "Tha's awesome! I'm Peter, wha's your name?" The boy stuck his hand out, and Peter shook it (because that's what his Papa did with his friends on bring your son to work day, even though he'd never done it with someone his age before).
"I'm Harry Osborn. Is it alright if I color with you?" Harry asked, and Peter nodded with a huge grin. So they drew X-wings together, they sat together during class activities, they ate lunch together, played tag during recess, and played some more during the second half of classes.
When Mary arrived to pick him up, Peter begged for Harry to come back to their apartment. Mary laughed, and found Harry, who was doing the exact same thing to his nanny, and extended the offer to them. His nanny told her that she couldn't agree without asking Harry's father, but maybe tomorrow. Peter whined over it the whole way home.
~
Peter was playing with Harry in the Osborn mansion, which was what he was most inclined to do these days, when Harry's nanny got a phone call. She went to answer it, and she came back with tears in her eyes. Both Harry and Peter dropped the toys they were playing with and rushed over to her, and she smiled softly at them. Miss Emelia cooed "Thank you, boys, you're very kind. I'm alright now. Peter, your uncle is on his way to pick you up." with fondness and sadness all at once, and Peter knew something was wrong.
He had been staying with his Uncle Ben and Aunt May for the past week because his Máma and Papa had gone on (what May had called) a "babymoon". Peter didn't know what that meant, just that it was a vacation for his parents, while he stayed home. They had asked if he wanted to go to Europe with them, and he had said no. He had standing plans with Harry to watch all three of the new Star Wars movies that he didn't want to miss. They were supposed to be coming home today, and he was supposed to sleep over. Harry pointed this out to Miss Emelia, but she only pat him on the head and said "They need him more than you do right now, dear."
Uncle Ben arrived two minutes later, looking frazzled and broken. He didn't stop to greet any of them, only dropping to his knees and hugging Peter instantly. Peter hugged him back tightly, confused and scared. By now he knew for sure that something bad had happened, but he couldn't figure it out. "Uncle Ben, wha's going on?" He asked, and Ben pulled away from the hug to look at Peter.
He put his hand on Peter's face, looking directly at him. "You're gonna be staying with your Aunt and I for a little while longer. Is that alright?" Peter nodded slowly, confused and cautious. Ben smiled sadly at him. "You look so much like your parents." At 6 years old, Peter had very little grasp on death, but that was when he knew that his parents weren't coming home. Not anytime soon, not ever again.
~
Peter had enjoyed living with May and Ben. He lived in Queens now, and they had to drive him to school in the mornings. He was at Harry's house more, because he needed a place to be until they could pick him up at 6. He missed the Chinese place he had right near his old apartment, but a new staple in his diet was Thai, so that was cool. Ben cooked most of the time, and when he didn't thy ate out. May never cooked, and Peter learned why the first time she tried. The house filled up with so much smoke that he had an asthma attack. Luckilly, Ben started keeping an inhaler on hand as soon as they found out that he had asthma, so he was fine.
All in all, he liked living with May and Ben. He missed his parents, but he had learned not to ask. It made his Aunt and Uncle sad, and he never wanted that. He decided that he was content to remember them on his own, with a picture of them joining the Star Wars and Captain America decorations in his new room. He was getting some new decorations, too! Iron Man. How cool is that?
~
Peter really loved having a rich friend.
He knew this before, when he spent hours every day in the Osborn mansion, and when he had visited Oscorp for the first time. But it had become most evident now, as he and Harry vibrated in excitement as the private jet landed. They were in Miami, and they were going to the Stark Expo.
It was summer break, and they had just finished the fourth grade together. He had been best friends with Harry for three years now, and he'd seen his father only four times. Once when Miss Emilia was sick and he had to take the day off work to watch them, one time when Uncle Ben had been late for picking him up and Norman came home while Peter was still there, once during a sleepover where Peter had gotten up first and decided to explore, but had accidentally found Norman's office, and lastly, when Harry took him down to Oscorp to beg him for the passes. He had obliged with a sour look on his face, but Peter's pretty sure that's just his face.
Peter had been wearing his Iron Man mask and a gauntlet that May had bought him for the occasion. She and Ben had even given him some money for him to buy a shirt. She had told him that if he was lucky, somebody important would sign it. Likely not Mr. Stark, because he has been "going out of his mind, recently, like honestly. Did you see the article about the thing he did last week, Ben? It was atrocious."
(May wasn't very big on Mr. Stark.)
They had been watching the display from Justin Hammer (and Iron Man!!!!) when the glass had crashed in. Miss Emilia ushered Harry and Peter aside, but as soon as people started to run, Peter had gotten separated. He Wanted to follow the rule of staying where you were when you got lost, but when the things on the stage started shooting through the ceiling at Iron Man, he figured this was a special situation. He got himself to the (mostly empty) front deck, and found himself faced with a robot.
But he had his Iron Man mask on, so he could do this. He knew he could. Iron Man was awesome and all-powerful, and was definitely going to beat up all of the bad guys. So, Peter raised his gauntlet at the evil robot an shot it. He hit him directly in the face, and the robot fell down. From behind him, he heard a noise and turned to see that Iron Man was right behind him. He told him, "Nice work, kid." And Peter nearly fainted.
A few minutes later, a near hysterical Emilia found Peter, and he excitedly regaled his adventure. She dragged them both back to the private jet, and whispers "I'm so fucking fired."
Unfortunately for her, she was right.
~
Peter and Harry weren't speaking. Harry thinks that if he hadn't gotten himself lost during the Expo, his dad wouldn't have fired Emilia. He has a new nanny now, Lia. Peter's seen her picking Harry up from school. Until they were talking again, Peter stayed with his new babysitter, Skip, after school. Skip picked him up from school and walked him back to his apartment, where Peter did his homework, and then they watched movies until May or Ben came to pick him up. Skip had taken to calling him "Einstein" after seeing how quickly he was able to breeze through his fifth grade homework. His babysitter was in eleventh grade.
A little while ago, Skip had shown him some weird pictures from a magazine. A few days ago, he had been pestering Peter to play the same game that the people in his magazine had been playing but Peter didn't want to. Skip really wanted to.
They started playing the game, and Peter always cried while it was happening. He hated the game, but Skip said that it was fun and that they should play it every day he came over. They did, because Skip was a lot bigger than him, and he could make Peter play the game. He wanted to ask May and Ben for a new babysitter, one who didn't make him play the game, but Skip made him promise to keep it a secret. He misses when he would spend his afternoons with Harry, watching their favorite movies and playing superheroes. He hates the games Skip plays. He never wants to play those games again, but anytime he tries to tell Skip, he doesn't listen. He wants it all to just go away.
Peter sneaks into the living room in the middle of the night and calls Harry's cell phone from the landline. He's crying before the first ring. Against all odds, Harry answers. "Peter?" He asks, obviously having been woken up by his phone. "It's the middle of the night, man."
"I know." He says, quiet. Ben says he's a lot quieter now. "I know you're mad, I just really really need to talk to you." He can hear the tears in his own voice, but hopes that Harry can't, but he definitely can. There's rustling, like Harry sat up quickly, before he continues. He stumbles over his words for a moment before he let out a sob.
"Come over after school tomorrow and we can talk about it, okay?" Harry says, and that's that. The next day, Peter will go to Harry's after school. And the day after that, and the day after that, and he will never have to see Skip Wescott again. But now, Harry says calming things to him through the phone, promising everything will be alright as long as they are both always there for each other, no matter the consequences.
"Promise you'll always be my best friend?" Peter asks the receiver, feeling incredibly small.
"Always, Peter." Harry promises. He means it. He won't always, and he'll regret not meaning it later. "You?"
"Of course." Peter promises, tears beginning to dry on his face. He means it. He's always going to mean it. "Everything is right in the world when you and I are together, Harry. That's never going to change. No matter what."