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Peter doesn't go in through the front door like he usually does, this time just pulling on a hoodie and some jeans before stumbling in through the window.

May, who's baking some of their fruit bars, instantly abandons her post to dash over to Peter. "What did you... are you bleeding... Peter, what..."

She makes a frustrated noise, then decides to give up on talking and just opts for helping him to pull off the hoodie instead.

Beneath the hoodie, Peter offers May a light crooked smile as he presses a hand against the stab wounds on his stomach. "Hey, Aunt May," he greets her weakly, voice light and teasing, "Sorry I'm late for work."

"Late for work," May snorts and grumbles something distasteful under her breath about Peter and his idiocy. "You're not working today."

Peter's forehead creases and his hands fumble about for a moment as May leaves him to get their first aid kit, and then he speaks in a slow, puzzled voice, "It is Saturday, isn't it? Because I'm pretty sure I work on Saturdays." He presses a bloody hand against his forehead and asks, panicked, "Do I have a concussion?"

May rolls her eyes at Peter's theatrics and answers in a no-nonsense voice, "No, Peter, I'm fairly sure you don't have a concussion. But you've been stabbed, one, two... stars, you've been stabbed three..." She swears a bit. "...times and you're still thinking about putting on your uniform and working?"

"I won't get blood on the uniform," Peter promises, as though that's what May's worried about.

She swears, this boy will be the death of her.

"Peter," She grounds her teeth and asks all the stars above to give he strength. "You are injured and if you do not get your..." She uses some more choice words to describe him and his stab wounds. "...into bed, I will personally..." She goes into a few threats concerning his science books and ruining his experiments.

Peter gasps, horrified at the thought. "But May," He whines, high pitched and pouting, "If I don't work, who will?"

"I will." May answers decisively, sticking out her chin stubbornly. "Got a problem with that?"

"You can't, Aunt May, you'll be too busy!" Peter protests.

"Well, this is your fault for getting yourself stabbed." May sniffs, knowing full well that it may seem unreasonable but also knowing there's no way she's going to let Peter do anything but rest with injuries like that.

"Please let me work, Aunt May?"

"You know, most kids try to avoid work."

"Pleeeaaase."

"Don't you give me the puppy dog eyes, I taught you the puppy dog eyes."

"Aunt Maaaay."

"No. You look like you're dying."

"But I'm not."

"Yeah, well, I'll just start disinfecting and..."

"Ow!"

"Yeah," Haughty sniff. "That's what I thought."

Peter sighed, pulling back and sulking as he asked quietly, "Can I at least get someone to replace me?"

May rolled her eyes and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Like who?"

Peter gnaws on his lower lip. "Ned?" He asks quietly, digging out his phone and already opening his contacts list.

May purses her lips together and mutters, "We can't let him do that for free."

Peter cocks an eyebrow, "It's not for free. Aunt May, Tony Stark comes to our coffeeshop, and Ned's been dying for a chance to see him. He'll be over the moon."

Which is how Ned Leeds ends up manning the counter at Ben & Mays.