"When I say it's you I like, I'm talking about that part of you that knows that life is far more than anything you can ever see or hear or touch. That deep part of you that allows you to stand for those things without which humankind cannot survive. Love that conquers hate, peace that rises triumphant over war, and justice that proves more powerful than greed."

― Fred Rogers

Okay, let's catch you up to speed.

I'm Peter B. Parker and as of three weeks ago, I became the one and only Spider-Man . . . in this dimension. I pulled myself out of my pit of emotional despair, got myself to the gym—okay, maybe haven't quite done that one yet, but I'm definitely cutting down on the pizza . . . starting tomorrow—and long story short, I reconnected with my estranged wife, Mary Jane. Things aren't exactly picture perfect with us yet, but she hasn't slammed any doors whenever I come to visit her—our—house so, I'm counting that as an improvement.

Look, if you had asked me three weeks ago if I thought my life would be get better, I would've glared and snapped at you sarcastically. Now though, 'cause of Miles and the others, I feel like I've got the old Spider-Man mojo back. Sure, I'm still saving the city on a regular basis, but I feel more upbeat now, like I can do this again.

"Peter?" Mary Jane glances up from her salad with a hesitant expression and I recognize it immediately, one that spells either immediate doom or foretells joyful tidings.

"Yeah?" I take a bite of one of the fries, wincing a bit at the lackluster taste. I missed the old burger joint and being able to try it again in Miles' dimension just seemed to ruin me for all burger joints.

"What are we doing exactly?"

I blink, then swallow nervously.

The funny thing with relationships; time always slows down when you're in love. Those good moments? Like the seconds before you finally work up the nerve to kiss the girl you've had a crush on for months? Total slow motion. But it works in reverse too. Before Mary Jane asked for a divorce, time came to standstill as she cried in our living room and I felt trapped in that moment.

And now, time is stopping once again.

A thousand responses run through in my mind—lovable retorts, to sarcastic half-truths, to outright lies—but I wait for her to go on. The thing with Mary Jane is that once she makes up her mind there's no changing it. She's stubborn like that. May used to call it feisty with a fond smile on her lips.

"I mean, us, Peter," She twirls her fork on her plate, biting her lower lip, "Are we . . . do you . . .?"

I reach out and grab her hand within my own.

God, I've missed her. Not just the feel of her in my arms, but her laugh and her smiles and the way her eyes would light up whenever we would get coupons for half-off ice cream sundaes at the Mom and Pop ice cream shop down the street from our old apartment in Queens.

"I love you, MJ." And you know, as simple as that might be, it's the truth. It's always been her. In this dimension and in Miles' apparently.

"But love isn't always enough, Peter," She chides me quietly, "I still want certain things out of life—"

"Kids?" I blurt out, "I love kids. Really. Super great. I mean, not their sticky hands, but you know, in general, they're cool."

Her eyes widen, "You . . . want kids?"

"Yes."

"You," She repeats again, astonished, "Want kids. With me."

"As many as you want."

Another instance when time slows down—when your spider-sense goes off. Sure, doesn't apply to everyone, but it's good to know and it applies in this case. You know when I said I was used to weird things happening to me? I usually am, but seeing a weird black portal opening up in the ceiling of a random burger joint is pretty freaky even for me.

And when a suited-up Miles falls out of the portal and crashes onto our table, sending my fries flying and Mary Jane's salad scattering off the table, I find myself just nodding.

Miles sits up, blinking. He turns his head and meets my gaze. Even through the suit, I can tell he's shocked and he shakily waves at me.

"Peter," Mary Jane whispers, and I can see what she's worried about, the numerous sets of eyes on us, "Do you know this guy?"

"Miles," I introduce softly, "Mary Jane. Mary Jane, Miles."

"Uh, hi." Miles whispers sheepishly.

"Might wanna get off the table now, kiddo."

"Oh! Yeah, just let me, whoa!" Miles rolls off the table, earning some snickers from the crowd and I glare, feeling a flash of anger within me.

"Come on," I place a hand on his shoulder, helping him up, "Let's get somewhere a bit more private."

"Peter." Mary Jane raises an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation, but she knows that we can't talk about this here. Not with witnesses. Sure, it's New York and no one is too fazed by a weird kid in a weird Spider-suit, but we can't take too many chances.

"Later." I promise her, pressing a quick kiss to her temple.

"Later." She echoes softly.

"C'mon, kid," I guide Miles out of the diner, "Let's talk."

Miles nods.

"So," I watch as Miles rolls up the sleeves of my much too big shirt, "Fisk at it again?"

The kid hasn't glitched yet, so I'm glad to see that he's in one piece, but if he came through a portal, then others could too. And the last thing I want—or need—is that crazy Doc Ock lady on a rampage here.

Miles shakes his head and grimaces, "Look, Peter, one second I was swinging and then the next thing you know—"

"—you end up crashing my reunion dinner with my wife." I complete softly.

Miles winces, "I am so sorry, I really didn't mean to—"

I smile, despite myself. What can I say? I have a soft spot for the kid and not because he's a Spider-Man too. No, there's something about Miles. He just brings out the best in you, makes you to be stronger than you are. He's earnest, not hardened by life's disappointments. He's the kind of kid that you want to protect, to help him keep his innocence in life, just for a little bit longer.

"Miles, it's fine," I promise him, "But you really have no idea how you got here?"

The teenager sighs, sinking to my bedroom floor. He holds his head in his hands and that's when I see the bruises on his arms. Circles, dark and ugly—kid hasn't learned the tried and true concealer trick—seem to encompass every inch of exposed skin.

I frown, processing, "Miles, are you hurt?"

"I'm good."

"The bruises say otherwise."

Miles gapes and quickly rolls back down my sleeves, "It's nothing. Just a perk of being Spider-Man, right?"

He's trying to make light of the situation, but the thought of someone putting their hands on Miles and trying to kill him—

Oh, shit.

I'm in too deep here. The kid isn't just a kid anymore. He's my kid.

"Things have been pretty chaotic," Miles admits, "I mean, I put one bad guy away and five more pop up the next day!"

And my kid is on the verge of a breakdown. The stress is getting to him and hey, it got to me too. Learning how to juggle the stress of school, then work with saving New York almost broke me. It destroyed my marriage. It took Miles—his optimism, his willingness to learn, his eagerness—to save me from the brink.

Without him, I'd be dead in his dimension.

"Hey," I kneel down to meet his gaze, placing a hand on his shoulder, "You're gonna be fine, Miles."

And that's when he bursts into tears.

Look, I'll be the first to admit, I'm not good with tears. When someone cries, I clam up, feeling incredibly awkward. With Mary Jane, I can handle it, but with others, I find myself pretty much fleeing from the situation.

But this is Miles and he's crying because he's a kid and he's got these crazy powers and he's alone and far from his home.

So, step two: help the kid get back.

But first, step one.

I wrap my arms around him, holding him, feeling his sobs shake the frame of my body.

"I got you, kid."

And I mean it.

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it! I loved this movie so much! I hope you'll enjoy this story. Please review if you have a chance. Thanks!