I hope you're all okay after that season finale of WandaVision because we have an emotional chapter today ;-; I hope you're ready for my attempt at an Uncle Ben backstory! It's a feels day!

TW/ if you're sensitive to gun violence, be careful! There's nothing explicit, but it comes with the Uncle Ben territory

No trigger warnings! Just stay safe and have fun ❤️️ 💛💚💙💜

Chapter Twenty: Empathetic Wreck

Once sunset comes, Peter and May are ready to light the first candle on the hanukkiyah, surrounded by the presents from Happy, the presents from each other, latkes, and sufganiyot. The latkes are Peter's favorites, for the taste as well as the fact that they're also called potato pancakes. May prefers the sufganiyot, or jelly doughnuts, but she has fun making both the treats. Peter is the one to light the first candle on the left and they say their blessings before opening the gifts. First, he opens the neatly wrapped present from May.

"Woah, this is awesome!" he exclaims with a grin. He holds up the black t-shirt with yellow lettering that reads "May the (F=M*A) Be With You" and looks it over in admiration. "It's perfect! Ned's gonna freak! I'm definitely wearing it tomorrow." One second he's holding the shirt, the next second he's gratefully hugging May.

"I know how much you like your science pun shirts and Star Wars. This way I thought you could have two-in-one." She squeezes him back with a smile and affectionately rubs his shoulder. "Let's get moving! We still have three presents to go and you're in bed early. No arguments, we have an early morning." If they want to get any shopping done, they'll have to be out early. Peter pulls away to excitedly present his aunt with her gift.

"It's not much, but it's a practical gift," he prefaced as she opens it. "And I think you'll like it!" He looks between the gift and her face enthusiastically, gauging her reaction. When it's opened, May can't help but be tickled.

"I love it," she says between laughs. The faux succulent sits perfectly in her palms with a beautifully painted pot.

"Figured you'd appreciate one that stays green," Peter adds, beaming with happiness. They both glance to the succulents on the windowsill that have now withered away and turned brown.

"I think that's a good call," May agrees with a nod. "Alright, last two. We'll open Happy's and then it's off to bed. Hey, don't give me those brown eyes. At least pretend you're asleep to make me feel more responsible. Pass them over." Peter does as he's told, accompanied by a halfhearted pout, and they open the gifts at the same time. His is a limited edition, original Star Wars trilogy gift set decorated with reflective cover art.

"Oh my god," he whispers in shock, his mouth hanging open. Then his eyes snap up to see what May got. She tenderly holds on her hands a book with a delicate spine and slightly worn edges.

"It's the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes," she softly relays. Her fingers brush over the cover and Peter notices the conflict in her eyes. "First edition." Peter's eyes go as wide as saucers and it takes him a moment to process what he just heard.

"You've gotta be kidding me! That's insane!" He scrambles forward to get a better look at the book, making sure to look inside to double check that it is in fact a first edition. "He seriously got you this?! That's so awesome!" There are practically stars in his eyes as they glisten with awe. In contrast, May is much more reserved and simply inspects the book from cover to cover. "Maybe you should call and say thank you," Peter breaks the silence with a knowing smile and bouncing eyebrows. May chuckles and gently pushes his face back.

"Thank you for your input, peanut gallery," she sarcastically teases. "We'll both call him tomorrow." After kissing the top of his head, she nudges him towards the hallway. He knows she'll keep denying it, but that doesn't mean he'll stop pestering her about it.

"Or we can invite him over," he offers innocently.

"Bed," May reiterates without remorse. This time, Peter listens, albeit with a victorious smile, and retreats to his room. There isn't much to do anyways; he wouldn't be caught dead starting an awkward conversation with Tony, Ned is having a movie night with his parents, and MJ is enjoying time with her dad. Not to mention the sun hasn't even come up yet where Shuri is.

In the morning, however, he's greeted with an interesting headline that sparks a playful debate between him and May.

"I didn't break in! I went through the window!" he valiantly defends with a hardly noticeably squeaky voice. May doesn't stop reading her new book, just simply asks,

"Was the window open?" Peter pauses a moment, retraces his steps in his head, then presses his lips together.

"…No." There's a gap of silence where he considers his predicament. "Does that count as breaking in?" All May does in response is raise her eyebrows as if the answer is now evident. It is, but that doesn't keep Peter from whining. "May," he draws out her name as he flops onto the catch next to her, "you're supposed to be on my side."

"I'm always on your side, baby," she says as she turns the page. Despite her empathetic tone, Peter knows that's just her way of placating him.

"You're patronizing me," he pouts. His head is upside down as he looks up at her with his bottom lip sticking out. May chuckles lightly and closes her book.

"Don't go breaking into buildings and you won't end up on the front page," she expertly advises, her tone good-natured. Peter immediately sits up to face her with narrowed eyes.

"The truth finally comes out! I knew you were aligned with the traitor," he accuses overdramatically. He falls against the cushions with the back of his hand against his forehead. "Woe is me to lose an aunt to a man like Triple J. The horror." May laughs at his obviously fake sobs and pushes the face that's now on her shoulder. When he doesn't budge, she decides to use her secret weapon…tickles. Peter instantaneously bursts into uncontrollable laughter and hugs his torso to protect his ticklish ribs.

"I knew those tears were fake!" May teases while she tickles without mercy. Peter is practically in tears, his cheeks sore from smiling, and tries to wiggle away.

"Stop! I give up! You win! You win!" he gasps out. Finally, the tickling stops and he's able to catch his breath, a ghost of a smile still adorning his face. The two sit in a comfortable silence and May falls into the habit of running her hand through Peter's curls. "Hey, May?" he breaks the silence.

"Yeah?"

"Can we stop at the Daily Bugle before we pick up Ned and MJ?" May is a bit confused as to why, but she isn't against it.

"Do you have more pictures to drop off?" she inquires curiously. Peter shakes his head.

"I kinda just want to talk to him about something. Trying the Peter Parker approach," he haphazardly tried to explain. Nonetheless, May trusts him as always.

"Alright, but we have to leave earlier then. Go get dressed." As soon as she approves, Peter is already vaulting over the couch and rushing to his room. "And wear your coats!" she calls after him, very aware of his super hearing. Indeed Peter does hear her, so he makes sure to throw a puffy coat on the bed and then gets changed.

When the two have agreed on the amount of layers Peter is wearing, enough to feel warm but not make him look like a walking snowball, they drive over to the Daily Bugle building. With multiple assurances that he'll be fine facing Jameson on his own, Peter casually makes his way up to the editorial room. The workers are as busy as ever, if not more so, rushing back and forth with a dull roar of chatter. What's going on? he wonders while observing. Why's everyone freaking out so much? He then spots a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Peter! Over here!" Betty waves him over on her tiptoes to be seen above the heads of the busy employees. Peter isn't exactly sure what to think, but he meets her half way when she starts squeezing through the crowd.

"What's going on?" He tries to question her discreetly, but it's hard not to shout with the surrounding ruckus.

"Apparently there was a fight at the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge! Spider-Man, Scorpion, and even Iron Man! And no one got pictures," she explains at a mile a minute. Her eyes are wide as she rapidly relays everything, but all Peter can think about is how they didn't miss much of a fight. Unless they count a midday swim as riveting. Ha. River. Riveting. Wait, focus. "Not just that," Betty continues, "but Jameson said Spider-Man broke into his office! That's why everyone's running around, they're looking for anything. Surveillance, photos from the bridge, literally anything. We need a front page." Oh yeah…I made a guest appearance yesterday. Peter nods in understanding, his eyes scanning perceptively for any sign of evidence.

"That's, that's insane," he agrees, then his eyes land back on her. "Have you guys found anything yet? If you don't, Mr. Jameson might…y'know…"

"Flip out?" Betty finishes for him. "Yeah. He has. Twice. He's due for another one soon." Her tone is unbothered, accompanied by raised eyebrows. "And no, the best we've found are some posts on social media about Spider-Man riding the subway soaking wet." Peter tries not to react and wills his face not to pale, clearing his throat instead.

"Well that's-"

"I mean, can you believe it? Faking photos like that just for some publicity? We all know he'd just swing." Betty laughs purely at the thought, and he joins in as convincingly as he can.

"Yeah, that's nuts. Some people must be really desperate, I guess." He wrings his hands together, but tries not to show his nerves. Betty doesn't appear to notice and simply shrugs her shoulders.

"Who knows, Jameson might use them anyways. I heard he once ran a story about a rancid chicken-"

"Where the hell is my front page?! There's an entire room of you running around and not one of you can find a decent picture?!" Jameson's deafening voice interrupts their conversation and effectively gets everyone in the room to stall. Peter stills, his eyes locked onto the office door that slams open. Jameson walks out, with his assistant bumbling close behind, and everyone promptly gets back to work.

"Good luck," Betty wishes him as her eyes follow Jameson's warpath. "I hope you have some pictures so we don't all end up fired." She encouragingly pats Peter's shoulder, which gets his attention.

"He wouldn't do that," he chuckles nervously, hoping to convince himself as well as her. She looks at him with uncertainty. "Okay he'd do that, but still."

"Parker!" Peter starts and whips around to see the man in question. Jameson puts a firm hand on his shoulder and steers them out of the conversation with Betty. "Just the kid I wanted to see. Got any pictures of your vigilante bff? All of a sudden he's camera shy. Not a damn picture from the fight and now the security footage isn't working!" As he rants, they've made their way back to his office and the assistant shuts the door behind them.

"We don't have security cameras. You said they were too expensive to install," the assistant anxiously reminds. Peter looks between them, not sure when he's supposed to answer the questions.

"I resent that," Jameson fires back. He sits down at his desk and then pins his gaze on Peter. "Do you have the pictures or not?" Peter swallows thickly and tries to find the right words. It's not like he can just come out and say that he stopped by for the hell of it.

"Um, no, I actually came because-"

"Don't care," Jameson interjects with boredom. "You're fired! No pictures, no job. Bye bye." Peter's eyes narrow in confusion and he tilts his head to the side. He feels like the human embodiment of the confused math lady meme.

"But, sir, you said it wasn't a job…" he carefully reminds. For a moment, the two stare each other down, neither of them speaking. "I have pictures of Scorpion?" His attempt is immediately followed by Jameson's back straightening. Then, his gaze shifts to the assistant.

"What are you doing firing my photographer? You, out! Parker, sit." Once again, Peter is thrown for a loop but sits down nonetheless. He watches with sympathy while the confused assistant leaves the office. "What kind of pictures?" Jameson borderline interrogates, to which Peter smiles and pulls out his phone. He wasn't exactly planning to give these out, but if it gives him the chance to get more information, then he'll use them. Droney transferred all the data they got that night to his phone, Tony, Ned, and MJ, which means he should have some shots of Scorpion from the most recent fight.

"Here! They're not great quality 'cause I took them with my phone, but I can email them to you." He holds out the phone so that Jameson, eying him skeptically, can see them. It's strange, but he actually wants Jameson to like them. He waits with bated breath while the pictures are swiped through. Without moving his head, Jameson looks back up.

"How did you get these?" he questions bluntly.

"I was on the bridge," Peter provides a bit too easily. "My aunt and I were going out to lunch and saw some of it." He presses his lips together and nods. Lying shouldn't come this naturally, he internally grumbles. Jameson's expression doesn't change when he looks down at the phone again. Peter kicks his legs back and forth in the meantime, until his eyes land on the framed picture. Jameson is smiling in the photo, a genuine smile, with his arms wrapped around a woman with blonde hair and sparkling eyes.

"She's beautiful," he observes absentmindedly, his voice hardly above a whisper.

"Was," Jameson snaps. Peter's head shoots up at the sudden change in demeanor. He hadn't realized he said something out loud.

"What?"

"Was," Jameson repeats. "That's my wife. She's dead." Peter instantaneously feels his face pale. Great job, bring up the guy's dead wife. That's great. Nice going, Peter. If he didn't hate you before, he does now. He keeps his eyes downcast and fidgets with the hem of his jeans. So much for that plan.

"I'm sorry," he apologetically stutters out. Apparently, Jameson doesn't want it to stop there.

"Wouldn't have to be sorry if those damn heroes did their jobs," he grinds out. The only thing keeping him from slamming his hand down is Peter's phone in his hand. Peter takes a risk and looks up slightly as if urging Jameson to continue. It just seems like he needs to get the emotions out.

"Do you want to talk about it, sir?" He's cautiously optimistic about his chances, but that changes when Jameson's glare pierces him.

"No! And definitely not with some kid!" Jameson declines in an enraged shout. Peter fights the instinctive flinch and catches the man off guard by smiling sadly.

"I know how you feel," he says softly. His eyes portray such deep emotion that it shouldn't be possible for a kid his age. Sadness. Loss. Grief. Loneliness. He can feel all the emotions resurface as if it were the day May and Ben brought him home or the night he held Ben in his arms. It gets easier, but it never goes away. Jameson doesn't know how to react at first, then regains his composure.

"I'm sick of pity and sympathy. I don't need it." His tone strictly says that the discussion is over and his striking eyes dare Peter to keep talking. Peter, however, looks to his lap, maintaining his smile. He's familiar with that kind of anger that feels like it can't be contained. It's different from Jameson's shouting, this has pain driving it.

"I lost my uncle," Peter quietly starts off. If he chooses his words carefully, he can get through to Jameson. All he has to do is say what he would've wanted to hear. Either way, Jameson huffs indignantly and ignores him. Peter continues, regardless of Jameson's evident disdain. "And my mom." Even though he can't see it, Jameson's glare starts to falter. To Jameson, the tension becomes more palpable to the point awkwardness. He looks around as if expecting someone to bail him out. "And my dad," Peter finishes, gripping his jeans without even realizing it. He chuckles breathlessly to himself. It's been a while since he sat and thought about them all at once. It feels like a sucker punch. Jameson grimaces and clears his throat.

"Sorry," he concedes in a lower voice. Peter can't see it, but he winces ever so slightly. The kid nods in acknowledgement, then looks up.

"If you wanna, we could both get it off our chests?" he suggests with a timid shrug. "I don't know about you, but I was sick of the people saying they know how I feel when I know they didn't." This is the Peter Parker approach, which is simply being honest. It feels more natural and true to himself, so he remains truthful. He can see that he's making progress. The kind smile grates on Jameson's reserve to the point where he can't take it anymore. He resists the urge to roll his eyes at what he's about to do.

"Her name was Joan," he starts with a sigh. Peter listens intently, giving Jameson his full attention. "I met her in high school. We were both in the," he chuckles at the memory, "the photography club. She was club president and then there was me: wrestler extraordinaire. I had no idea how to get her attention. Turns out all it took was the top three jocks runnin' their mouths and me beatin' them to a pulp! Ha! Never messed with me again! She thought it was brave." He smiles sadly as he reminisces. Peter can tell how much it pains him.

"What happened?" he asks, completely enthralled by the story. His wide, curious eyes stare keenly…despite knowing how the story ends.

"We got married straight outta high school!" Jameson proudly answers. "She was the only one who would put up with me. Patient, kind, understanding, funny…she made me a better man." Peter hasn't known Jameson long, but he's never heard such a somber tone from the man. It's justifiable, considering the circumstances.

"She sounds amazing," he commends. At first all Jameson does is nod once, both of them drifting into an odd silence. Peter patiently waits and wonders how long Jameson has kept this locked away, hidden behind a façade and a quick temper. It reminds him of a certain genius he knows…

"She was. But nothing good lasts, Parker. That's how damn brutal life is." Jameson leans back in his chair and picks up a cigar, about to light it, but stalls. Ultimately, he decides against it, not that Peter knows why. "I took a reckless job. Dangerous. She told me not to. Some bad crooks were involved. I should've listened, but I didn't care about what happened to me. I cared about the truth! The people of this city! The best way to help them was to report the truth!" His sudden passion goes by in an instant. "I expected them to go after me. That, I could handle. I didn't expect them to go after her." Peter's heart drops. How could people do that? Hurt someone who didn't even do anything? I know the bad guys I fight do that but…it's just so unfair. "The coward didn't even show his face. Bastard hid behind a mask and shot my wife for what? So his name didn't end up in the damn papers?! She didn't deserve that!" Jameson trails off, then mutters, "If people didn't have anything to hide, they wouldn't wear a mask." That's when Peter begins to click it all into place. Mr. Jameson's wife was murdered by a man in a mask…That's why he hates heroes, especially Spidey. And that's probably why he got super angry about Anna. He knows what it's like to lose a wife. What he doesn't do is look at Jameson with pity or forced sympathy. Instead, he decides to relate to the feelings. The universe knows he's felt that way before.

"Two years ago, my Uncle Ben and I had a fight," he averts his eyes, "and I needed to clear my head. It was a stupid fight and I was wrong…but I didn't want to hear it. So I went for a walk without telling him or my aunt." The more he relives it, the more he wishes he could kick his past self for acting without thinking. He curls his toes under. "I only got a block away before I felt like shit. I felt so bad about what happened that I decided to just…go home and apologize. There was a, uh," he takes a deep breath and his leg starts to bounce, "a flower shop. I wanted to get my aunt May some flowers to say sorry and pick up some chocolates for Ben. The store closed just as I got there."

"What did you do?" Jameson awkwardly chimes in, trying his best to be his version of supportive. Peter closes his eyes as his brows pull together in a pain only trauma can cause.

"I begged for him to let me in. All I needed was two seconds. I told him it was important, but he wouldn't let me. He told me to get lost and that he wasn't in the mood to hear whining." He chuckles dryly, it seems so mundane now. "And then the giant windows were shattered. Flowers and bouquets went flying everywhere. A guy dressed in all black with a mask shot the windows and started robbing the place. The owner was terrified, couldn't even move. He asked me to call the police. Begged me. His hands were shaking too much to dial." His fists tighten.

"I'm guessing you didn't," Jameson assumed solemnly. Peter shakes his head.

"The robber ran, I picked up one of the bouquets, and told him to call the police himself. I gave him the money I had and just…walked away. Back home." Slowly, he relaxes his hands and then tightly clasps them together. "When I got there…the same robber was using it to hide. He held May and Ben at gunpoint. It all went so fast and I just, I didn't understand what was happening and he asked who I'd choose to…" Apparently it's still too fresh and he can't finish his sentence. "I didn't answer fast enough. He shot Ben." He takes a steadying breath before looking up at Jameson. "I know what it feels like to think it's your fault and wonder if you could've done something different, then it'd be okay. It sucks and I still feel that guilt a lot too, but I keep reminding myself that my uncle loved me and no fight was going to change that. No matter how bad. And I know Joan loved you too. You guys might've disagreed but that doesn't change how much she cared about you. We weren't the ones holding those guns, Mr. Jameson, so it wasn't our fault." He does his best to pour as much sincerity and honesty into his words as humanly possible. The room falls into silence as he waits for Jameson's response. So far, all he's received is an impassive gaze. "Can I ask you something, Mr. Jameson?" he decides to inquire. Jameson sighs before grumbling,

"As long as you stop with the 'Mr. Jameson' crap." Nonetheless, he nods.

"How come that villain Scorpion tried to attack you?" Peter sheepishly asks, trying to find the best way to phrase it. He can't give away how much he knows, that would be too suspicious. There has to be a limit to a high school kid's knowledge of a supervillain. "I mean, he tore this floor and your office apart. Aren't you worried that he'll try it again?" It's a valid concern and he needs to know how deep the story goes. He doesn't want anyone to get in the crossfire.

"If that maniac tries to destroy my paper again, I'll take care of it," Jameson firmly assures without entertaining the idea. And how exactly is he planning to do that…? Peter wonders. "It's between us. My mistakes. I shouldn't have… A kid like you has other things to worry about." Mistakes? He recalls all the things Scorpion has screamed at him for the past few days. Scorpion said some guy ruined his life. Did he mean Mr. Jameson? Could he have something to do with Dr. Stillwell? If he made a mistake relating to Scorpion... Then, just like that, Jameson starts writing. "Email me those pictures." Peter opens his mouth to retaliate the sudden complacency, but shuts it and nods. He felt so close to getting through to him and maybe helping. "I'll give you five hundred for the lot." This makes Peter's mouth drop.

"But, but sir, that's more than a hundred per-"

"I can do math!" Jameson interrupts, already acting like his old self again. He tears off the check and shoves it over to Peter, who carefully accepts it.

"But it's too much," he tries to explain. This is more than he got for twice the photos last time. It's practically stealing!

"Consider it a holiday bonus," the man grumbles as he stands. Peter hastily does so too and lets himself be corralled towards the door. "Don't expect a card or a fruitcake. Now get moving!" The teen doesn't get out immediately, though. Instead he turns around with a genuine smile and gratefully says,

"Thank you. This means a lot." He's aware that Jameson is probably on emotional overload, but he wanted to be polite at the very least.

"Yeah, yeah, keep it moving. Out." Once Peter is out of the threshold, the door flies shut. He actually feels a bit lighter after clearing things up with Jameson. As he walks back and takes the elevators, he goes over the conversation in his head. It wasn't under the best circumstances and it was a lot more about himself than he wanted to divulge, but it got him somewhere. Somewhere is better than nowhere, which feels like where he's been lately. He still needs to figure out Jameson's connection to Scorpion and Dr. Stillwell, but he's at least earning trust. When he gets back to the car, May cheerfully greets him.

"Hey, how did it go?" she inquires with a smile. Peter shuts the door behind him, leans back in the seat, and breathes out.

"It was good," he truthfully reveals. "I have a lot to catch you guys up on. I didn't expect it to be that much." As supportive as ever, May understands and starts the car back up.

"Ready to go get your partners in crime?" Peter chuckles at her playful tone.

"So ready." And maybe, for the first time in days, he'll be able to have a normal, relaxing day with family.

I know we all hate JJ from last week, but how bout THAT BONDING :')

Thank you for reading! ❤️️ 💛💚💙💜

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