Peter sat at the kitchen table, scraping oatmeal onto his spoon and swirling the glob around in circles.

"Not enough cinnamon?" May sat down with her bowl as he stuffed the bite in his mouth.

"No!" He spoke around the mass of oatmeal. "Ish good." He swallowed to prove it. May smiled and took a few bites.

"Good. Did you hear the news?"

"Nu-uh," he mumbled, stuffing a large bite in his mouth.

"They legalized Supers yesterday."

It was jaw-dropping news. The oatmeal that slid out of his mouth was his testimony, and his ruined pants were his evidence. He could vaguely hear May yelp, reminding him it was picture day and he just spat onto his khakis you can't wear jeans to picture day can you even hear what I'm saying!

Supers are legalized. Supers are legalized.

He was snapped out of his daze as May shoved jeans in his direction.

"Huh?" He wasn't seeing her, though, just the door to his room behind her that held his suit.

"I said jeans will have to do. I know it's exciting, but you need to-" He leapt up before she could finish her sentence and dropped the khakis, hopping into the jeans one leg at a time in the direction of his room.

"Don't just leave them on the floor- Earth to Peter!"

"Uh- yahuh- just a minute!" He yanked open the closet door and dove into his laundry basket for his tracksuit, tossing a dirty pair of shorts to the side. He nearly tore open his Jansport backpack as he shoved it in the second largest pocket and zipped it up. May was in the doorway a moment later, crossing her arms.

"Hey, look at me." She bent over and put her fingers through his hair, which had shifted from its careful over-gelled styling. "There, fixed it."

"Thanks, May," he leapt up and dashed past her towards the door, then rushed back to give her a hug. "Sorry about the pants," he mumbled into her turtleneck.

"It's just one picture. Now go, you don't want to be late," she said, rubbing his shoulder and nudging him towards the door. He dashed out without complaint, leaving her standing alone in the living room. She headed back towards the table, but her foot slid on his discarded khakis as she went. "Boys," she mumbled, picking them up and heading towards the laundry room.

Peter's world was a blur as he ran to school. He started at a walk, then jogged, but his whole body was consumed with so much excitement he couldn't help running, overcome by the urge to swing around lampposts and cheer. He took the stairs into Metroville High two at a time, dodging his walking peers as his skin buzzed with the need for action. He practically leapt to his locker, opening it quickly and sticking his arms inside to search for his textbook.

"Peter." He nearly leapt with surprise, sending his chemistry textbook flying from his locker to free fall onto the floor. Ned held up his hands in defense. "Woah, just me!" Peter managed a breath.

"Hey, Ned- dude, what's up with your hair?" Ned sighed and touched it with a hand.

"I dunno, my mom said she would put it up, but then she messed it up, then I messed it up more, and eventually we used the whole bottle of gel and gave it a mind of its own." Peter knelt down, picking up the textbook from the floor. "What has you so jumpy?"

"Uh, y'know, just really excited for, uh, pictures." He closed his locker a little too hard, and the door bounced back at him. "Ah!"

Ned scoffed as Peter closed his locker this time, slowly, like it might leap out again by itself. "Anyway, did you hear the news?"

Peter bit his lip and started to walk to class on Ned's left. "News? What news?"

"C'mon, it's all over! The government legalized supers."

"Wow, that's really something, see I didn't have the TV on last night and-" Whatever excuse Peter was about to develop fell on deaf ears as Ned rambled on.

"-then the ship got stopped right before it hit the building, I saw the live footage, and it was insane. So then they got on trial and the whole thing was finalized, just like that!"

"Yeah, sounds surprising."

"No kidding, I nearly fell over. Do you know what this means?" Peter's mind buzzed. "New merchandise! I can't wait to see what they come up with- maybe even a Lego set if we're lucky. Speaking of-"

"So when they say legalized, like how legal is it? If someone was just like, enhanced, they can fight crime now?"

Ned pursed his lips. "I mean, I guess. Do you think they need super-permits? Oh, maybe the government has like a database. That would make sense, with the whole Relocation Act managing their identities and merging them back into society." He nodded as if to affirm himself. "Yeah.. why do you ask?"

"I dunno. I guess I'm just curious if they'll start to pop up around here, now that it's okay."

"How cool is this?" Ned pushed open the door to their homeroom and navigated to his seat. "Do you think we might see Mr. Incredible in the streets now?" Before Peter could reply, Flash's orange Nike's were propped up on his desk.

"Meet Mr. Incredible? You know my dad was at the conference where they had the signing?" Flash shot a grin at them, stretching his legs out in the manner that a cat takes over a laptop keyboard.

Peter pushed Flash's feet off of his desk and dropped his stuff down onto it. "Nope."

Flash slid from where he was sat atop his desk into the attached plastic chair. "Ned, what did you use to do your hair? A rabid squirrel?" The shrill ring of the bell drowned out what probably would've been a lame comeback on Peter's part. Ned rolled his eyes and sat, absent-mindedly trying to tame the beast atop his head.

Peter tried to pay attention to class, he did, if trying constitutes reviewing his web fluid formula underneath his notes. There weren't any modifications to be made, but staring was all he could do as the day trudged on. The moment he was in Chemistry, his mind went from off topic to off-planet. He went to get hand sanitizer at least three times during the course of the class, each time bringing back an essential chemical off the shelves to hide in his drawer. He could tell it was starting to get suspicious when he got to round three and asked to go to the restroom.

"If you answer the question on the board," his teacher bargained, waving his hand at the molarity equation.

"1.33 moles," Peter answered quickly, and he was out of the door before Mr. Brundt mumbled his assent. He jogged to the restroom and back, eyes on the prize that he snatched up on his way back to his seat: salicylic acid and methanol. After some deft swirling and quick measurements, he was left with a beaker full of the sticky web that he capped and dropped in his bag, cushioned by the suit. Although he had mixed it before and tested it in an alleyway- he had the bruises and a destroyed garbage can to prove it- knowing that this time he would get to use it in action elongated each minute to 2:45.

"Peter," Ned hissed. When that earned no response, he poked Peter with his picture ticket. "Peter."

"What?" He glanced away from the gym's clock for a moment, then his eyes adhered to it again.

"You're next," he said, pushing him towards the camera lady, who looked at him over thick black reading glasses. Peter handed his ticket to her and stood on the footprint outlines in front of the camera.

"Put your hand in your pocket and tilt your head slightly," she drawled, adjusting the reflector. Peter stood, but kept his head straight, knowing it would look ridiculous if he tilted it. He's a high schooler, not a begging puppy.

"Tilt it," she reminded him.

"But-"

"Tilt it." He tilted his head. The light flashed, triggering his fighting senses so that he stumbled right after it was taken. "Neext." He stepped back amongst the other students, hoping it caught the ugly head tilt and not the shocked stumbling.

"Hey Penis," Flash called, "are you scared of the camera, too?" A few others that had seen laughed along with him as Peter beelined for Ned, who was forlornly patting his hair.

"I hope it didn't come out too bad," he mumbled, pressing down a bit of hair reminiscent of the main boy in Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Peter never managed to read that book; it hit too close to home.

"Either way, your mom will have it on every wall of the house." Ned groaned. "You're so right. Hey, do you want to use that Smoothie Palace coupon I got after school today? That might make me feel better," he said, dropping his hand from trying to slap down the spiky mess atop his head.

"Oh- no, I can't, I've got… stuff," Peter said, knowing full well it was a lame excuse.

"Peter, you never have stuff," Ned deadpanned, looking into Peter's soul.

"Well, now I do! Maybe tomorrow?" he squirmed under Ned's prying eyes.

"Okay, tomorrow." He put his bag over his shoulders and stood. Peter leapt up; 2:44. Only a minute more then-

He dashed out the second the bell rang, leaving Ned in his dust. He'll feel guilty about that later. For now, he was running as fast as he could to the nearest alleyway and trying to dump his webbing fluid into his shooters while also kicking off his pants. Once he was decked out in his red and blue sweats and his backpack was securely webbed between a dumpster and the wall, he leapt onto the wall, scrambling up as his muscles roared with the adrenaline of his newfound freedom.

Two hours, and still nothing. He'd perched upon three buildings and begun to feel a bit discouraged. When he heard a cat meowing, stuck on the awning of a store, he practically leapt at the chance, scrambling down the side and gathering the grey bundle in his arms.

"Is this anyone's cat!" He lifted it up a little to show it to the people below. A young woman with pink glasses reached up.

"Down here!" Peter slid down, handing the cat to her. It pounced into the girl's arms, trying to climb up her flowered blouse. "Thanks," she smiled, then looked at him strangely, one eyebrow raised. "Do I know you?"

"Nope. I'm Spider-Man. Tell your friends!" And he crawled back up the building with a smile. His first mission! It wasn't a bank robbery, okay, but it could've been life and death for the cat, at least. He swung between buildings like a bird taking its first flight; he smacked into brick walls and bounced off of a window more than once. After webbing up someone's keys that fell through a grate and resetting a fruit stand he'd plowed through, he swung back to the alley where he had left his stuff. The sky was a bit darker than he had planned. Hopefully May would accept Smoothie Palace as a worthy excuse for being out so late. Right as he reached to rip off the webbing, he heard the police sirens.

He was already modifying his excuse as he swung toward the noise. "Sorry, May, Ned invited me over and… we played Pokemon for… three hours," he decided, following the flashing red and blue to a broken ATM in the wall. He dropped on the ground right before the police arrived.

"Uh- Hi! Robbing ATM's is bad, you know." The masked man gave him an incredulous look.

"Who invited pipsqueak? Shoo!"

"It's Spider-Man!" The second robber groaned, drawing a gun.

"Of course you are. Now go or I'll-" Peter aimed his webs, bringing the gun into his own hand with a laugh of surprise.

"My aim is- ehem, always this good," he covered, bringing the duffel bag to his other hand with his other web shooter.

"Dude, is that coming out of you!" Before Peter could express his disgust, the first man yelled, "the Popo's here, dude!" and made himself scarce. Peter turned to the oncoming officers, setting down the gun and duffel.

"You're welcome, here you go-" But a few too many guns were pointed his direction. "Wait, this isn't how this goes, they went that way!"

"Hands up!" A female officer gestured to the gun. "Drop it!" Peter dropped the bag, raising his hands. "Hey, no sweat, let me just-" He webbed the wall of the building behind him and started to swing away as the officers shouted in protest. He looked at the sidewalk, trying to find the real criminals, when he was hit mid-swing in the side, sending him swinging into an alley with a shout of surprise.

"Don't hit the wall no no!" He shot another web, which would have been perfectly timed, had it not been clinging to a clothesline. It snapped under his weight and he went flying into a wall with a thud, but he stuck onto it. Before he could thank his hands and feet for being so reliable, he was grabbed onto by a pair of hands. "WOAH who's that!" He remained firmly stuck as the hands continued to pull. He craned his head back to see who was trying to send him back to the Earth, but instead of a body, he just saw arms. Really, really, long arms. "Duuude, that's so weird, what's up with your arms?" Then a body came into view, quickly flying as their arms shrunk. "Nope nope nope!" He sent a web at their face, but they bent out of the way. He started to climb upwards, but they kept their firm grip. In a moment of panic, he released the wall, sticking web to the other side, but before it could connect, he was yanked downwards with a yelp. He hit the floor, rolling to the side.

"Stop where you are," the woman threatened, moving forward. The light of a window cast shadows behind her, illuminating her symbol. Peter had to keep his heart from leaving his chest.

"Hey, you're Elastigirl! Ehem. I mean. Hello. Elastigirl. I'm Spider-Man." He saluted. Is that what heroes do? Elastigirl stopped approaching and blinked. "Uh.. sorry… should we like… shake hands instead?" He offered his hand, but she shook her head.

"You were robbing an ATM." She squinted slightly, like that might reveal his true intentions.

"Actually, I wasn't. I was stopping the dudes, but then you totally pushed me off course and-" Her arm reached out to grab his arm, but he jumped to the side before she could, backing up. "Hey, did you hear what I said?"

"Look, I don't know what game you're playing, but the police saw you with a gun and a bag," her hand twisted, latching onto his arm again, "so you've got to come with me."

"I'm so sorry, ma'am, but- hey! What's that!" He looked past her, then sent a web at her face, but it stuck onto her neck and he pulled it. It stretched a yard long. "Wooooahmygod that's weird!" He attached the web on her neck to her arm and tied that to the floor. "So sorry, but I gotta go." He jumped, twisting, then kicked her hand, using the momentum to grab onto the building closest and scaling upwards. She shrank to normal size and pulled on the webbing, but it remained rooted to the floor. In a last-ditch effort, she sent a hand up to grab him, stretching impossibly long and approaching too fast for comfort. He shot webs, but only one made its mark, wrapping her hand like a glove, and he continued his ascent, not pausing to breathe until he had swung all the way back to the alley where he kept his backpack. Only then, when he was tearing his backpack free, did he remember the escaped criminals.

"Dangit," he muttered, swinging between the familiar skyscrapers with the skill of a real super, yet lacking the tact he saw in the greats, enshrined on the posters of his childhood: the hero he could only hope to become.