Hi friends! Thank you for waiting for this one! I knew where the story was going but was having trouble executing it so hopefully this longish chapter makes up for it. Hope you enjoy!

Thank you to everyone who has read this story in any capacity! I appreciate you all so much.

"On the count of three."

Everyone plunged their hands together, stacked on each other and shaking as the energy moved through them. It was almost visibly pulsing between them and feeding off of the crowds waiting beyond the curtain in front of them.

"One."

Frank eyes moved between the five of them as he bounced side to side, bumping into Julia each time. He looked like he was born to wear a suit. Maybe it was Peter who was aware of the uncomfortable clothes framing his body.

"Two."

Monica's hand not in the circle was gripping the notecards they'd spent days making and hours going over. Highlights and red annotations covered crammed space on the small paper. Her hair was in some type of bun today and Peter thought she looked regal, very adult-like in her black pantsuit.

"Three."

Julia's hand was at the bottom of their stack below Peter's. Stored in her backpack was a bursting-at-the-seams binder filled with their notes from all the months of their work. The past week Julia met up with him at the library. They went through and organized all of paperwork in case Monica needed some obscure reference.

She held his gaze as they finished their countdown. A small smile rose under her steeled eyes.

"Team!"

Their hands ascended.

Cheers erupted.

The stage taunted them from where they stood in the wings.

Frank grinned while Julia narrowed her eyes. Monica whipped up her notecards, beginning to go through them again, and Peter squeezed his eyes shut.

A tech alerted them it was their time to present. Monica hugged them all one last time and walked on stage. The rest of them peered around the curtain trying to get a glimpse of their teammate while she presented. Her words were loud and clear, and Peter's eyes strayed to the captive audience, overlooking all the heads and searching for one in particular. He wasn't sure if he wanted to find the certain person amongst the crowd or not.

Julia nudged his side and his attention shifted back to Monica.

Peter winded through the crowd trying to spot Frank, the tallest of their group, over the heads of everyone milling about the room.

He tried not to think about how strange it was being in the Tower again. How he knew down the hallway through the first door there on the left was a broom cupboard where Mr. Stark showed him a stash of snacks. 'Easy access on the way to meetings' the man had said. He withheld the urge to find an empty room so he could talk to Friday, afraid he might end up like those employees yelling to empty rooms with no hopes of an answer. His stomach turned at the thought that their friendship was contingent on his internship.

People were gathered in groups waiting for the news and he ignored his racing heart. Peter fiddled with his tie. He loosened it and attempted to straighten it only to shorten the front material. It was crumpled by the time he was done 'fixing' it.

The presentation was over and his internship would be done with the announcement at the end.

Monica was a queen. She gave the presentation, nailed the question and answer portion by redirecting their inquiries and concerns with a smile and no hesitation. They ran to her once she exited the stage and held her arms until she got to a chair, which she promptly melted into it. Monica smiled, drained but happy, as they showered her in praise. Her hand covered her mouth as she muffled her giggles like a child.

"I can't believe we did it. That was… amazing." She giggled and relaxed back into the chair.

"You freaking nailed it, Mon. Like seriously amazing stuff." Frank said.

They walked back to the waiting room and sat together on the couch, pressed side-by-side as they watched the other groups representatives present on the monitor stacked in the corner of the room. Flash popped his head in after his group went and then they were sent into the crowd to mingle with different companies and 'influential' people in attendance.

His team took to this portion of the day with gold stars. Even Julia got in there and got the card of a small start-up asking her to email them when she graduated.

It felt like the whole state of New York was there. All of them dressed in tailored suits and dresses, their posh hair and clinking glasses catching Peter's attention with every turn. He observed these groups as he continued on his search. People laughed imbibed from the courage generously poured into the glasses.

He wasn't oblivious enough to say no one wanted to talk to him. That would be false, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't worth their time. A tall woman with dark hair had asked for his resume assuming he was older than a freshman. He didn't even know how to fill out a check and she wanted to know his work experience. With a polite nod, Peter took her card and walked away. He ended up finding Flash digging into the buffet, who he followed around until Flash joined up with his own team.

Peter couldn't correct the tightness in his necktie no matter how much his fingers played with the material. His rented tux drooped around his shoulders but was too short in the pants. At least he was wearing his trusty Converse. Once May got over her initial tears at seeing her baby dressed so nice she had zeroed in on the offensive footwear. Her objections were minimal at his insistence and she gave in noticing the tightness in his jaw. In the end she shrugged her shoulders and said most people would be looking at his face and not his footwear. Peter didn't stop blushing until they were on the subway into the city.

"Hey Peter." Julia called and his teammates closed the gap between them, carving a space between the other groups of people.

"We've got it in the bag, don't you think?" Frank said, eyeing the plate filled with small appetizers in Julia's hands. She saw his wandering gaze and moved her plate over so it was further away from him.

"Of course, we will." She said. "Get your own food." She added but extended the plate over at the puppy eyes and pout Frank was shooting towards her. He snatched up the miniature hotdog and moaned while he chewed.

"I don't know how you can eat at a time like this." Julia said. Peter watched as he snuck another hotdog off Julia's plate when she bent over to say something to Monica. He winked at Peter.

"Dude, this is so good. All vegan it says and I won't be eating anything like this in the college dorms."

Julia asked if he'd been assigned his roommate and he began to tell them how he'd matched right away with a cello-playing, Hawaiian shirt-wearing Political science major.

Monica moved to the side, stepping out of their circle. Peter stared at the back of her head not believing who was standing beside her.

"Is that…?"

"Yep," Julia stepped closer. "Estee came right up to us when we first got out here and they haven't stopped talking yet. It's kind of cute if she didn't work for the devil."

"Julia!" He said but couldn't help but agree.

Frank chuckled and she just shrugged. Peter looked over at his teammate and their ex-tour guide. They were standing close. Monica reached over and touched Estee's shoulder. Her hand lingered and a pink blush stole across his teammate's cheeks when the other girl said something he couldn't hear. Estee also wore a pantsuit but hers was a bit softer looking than the girl she was standing next to. Maybe it was her hair that was down. He tried to compare the features on each outfit but gave up after remembering May's comment about his abysmal fashion sense. Either way the pair looked great together.

He couldn't stop the churning in his stomach when he thought of who she worked for.

Julia informed them all that Lee already came around and wished them luck before seeing to the other teams. Clipboard in hand she ran down the list of people they should talk too, people they needed to talk to, and people to avoid before whizzing away to do the same for everyone else.

Frank kept stealing Julia's food when her gaze started to drift to the stage situated in the front of the room. Its imposing mass was difficult to keep Peter's eyes from darting there. His laughter and outrageous comments about the people around them distracted everyone from their growing nerves.

The team continued to talk and joke but Frank's laughter was a little too loud. Monica kept muttering mistakes in her presentation to herself and whoever was next to her, to which Estee would retort, and Julia didn't touch a single morsel on her plate.

Peter couldn't stop straightening his tie. His fingers rose of their own accord running down the ridges and tracing the pattern as he watched them all pretend to be fine.

Surrounded by all these fancy people and the onset of memories from the building, his internship, Peter's thoughts kept returning to Ben.

When he decided to make The Weaver.

Where this all started.

His uncle's hands were callused and cracked around his nails and palms. They were 'man's hands' he would say to Peter. Peter remembered rubbing sand between his own hands in hopes they would be more like his uncle's.

Memories of running clouded his thoughts.

His feet raced down the path to their home. One hand grasped at his nose, the slits in his fingers allowing the blood to drip down onto his shirt, and the other clutched his reward. A rock leapt out and sent him sprawling. The dirt ground into his hands and knees, leaving stains on his pants. Peter shuddered but climbed to his feet. The trek home was silent and void of any other kids.

He ran passed May who yelled his name once she got a look at the state he was in, and sat, eyes vacantly staring at the evidence left by the scraps of his fall. Grass and tinges of blood seeped through the knee of his pant. His fist remained closed. The metal pinched the skin of his palm but he couldn't let go. Not yet.

The door creaked open and his uncle's head popped through. He observed Peter from behind the wood, left, and came back carrying some tissue, band aids, and antiseptic. Ben knelt in front of Peter with a mumble about old knees and back pain.

Peter stared down at his fist.

"Peter? Are you okay?"

He nodded avoiding his uncle's stare. A pulsing ache emanated from behind his nose and come tomorrow he would have another shameful trophy from the day. This one would be a bruise from where the kid had hit him.

Ben had taught him how to throw a punch when he went into middle school. 'It's good to know,' he had said with a wink. It wasn't something he ever thought he would need. He wished he hadn't.

"What happened?"

He swallowed and uncurled his fingers to reveal what was hidden inside.

Ben picked up the metal object. He wiped off the dirt around the edges and shined the surface against his shirt before inspecting the lettering decals in his school colors on the front.

"What was the word?" Ben said examining the pin's inscription closer to his face. He handed Peter an icepack and tissue for his nose which had stopped bleeding and waited for an answer. The shirt he was wearing was beyond help so he pressed the tissue into the crust forming on his chin and mouth.

"Indomitable." He muttered under the tissue. Ben tapped his leg and Peter straightened it out keeping a wince from his face. His uncle seemed to know anyway and gave a squeeze to his calf.

"Remind me? How is it spelled?" Ben rolled up his pant legs and began disinfecting the cuts from his fall.

"I spelled it right." Peter said.

"I know. I see your medal. I'm guessing those other kids weren't very happy with your indomitable spelling skills?" Ben said with a smile.

"Ben." Peter said dragging out the syllable until the band aids were in place on his knee. His uncle smiled but his eyes focused on the swelling in Peter's face and a frown took over his expression again. He moved to sit next to Peter. They both rested their backs against the bed and stared at the clothes laying on Peter's furniture and floor.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there today. I wished I'd seen it when you spelled it correctly. Let me see, I think it goes: I-N-D-A-"

"That's not right!" Peter said turning to grab Ben's arm.

"Oh, and how is it spelled?"

Peter realized what Ben was trying to do. There was a twinkle in his eye but Peter promised himself earlier when all his classmates had laughed at him he wouldn't do it again and not even for his uncle.

"I, um, I forgot." He said.

Ben covered Peter's hand. Heat spread up his neck and across his cheeks.

"When is the next round?" Peter shook his head. He wasn't going and placing himself in that position again.

Surrounded.

On the ground.

Weak.

Like he always ended up no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

"I-N-D-O-M-A or is it I? If only there was a spelling bee winner to help me out."

"Ben. I don't want too."

"You're right. I think I've been spelling it wrong this whole time. I think It's I-M-D-"

"Alright, alright." Peter said and proceeded to spell the word out as he had on the stage hours before.

Ben clapped as Peter said the last letter.

"So when can I see you next."

The sleeve of his jumper became fascinating between the alternative of answering his question. The original draw of the spelling bee had begun with the need for approval. He had this image of May and Ben sitting in the stands, watching as, for once, he could win at something. Much to his uncle's chagrin, sports were not something Peter were good at. At the best of times he could manage to keep the injuries to himself and not the other players. Ben had patched him up when he came home with bruises and cuts but said maybe Peter should try something else. He noticed his uncle's eyes roaming to his old varsity jacket he had given Peter in hopes he could add his patches to it.

While he felt like an unwanted guest in his body, unable to coordinate it enough to catch a football or swing a racket, Peter knew his mind better than the back of his hand. Equations, school, and books were what he was good at.

That was okay most of the time. But he felt an ineffable tug in his abdomen every time he saw the varsity jacket handing behind the door in his room.

His stomach gave that same tug sitting there besides his uncle, the man he looked up to on how to be a good person, on what a good man was supposed to be.

"I don't think I want to do it anymore. I mean I'll be in high school next year and you know I have a… difficult time with people. I just- well I think I'm too shy." Peter said resting his head against the bed behind him.

Ben turned to face him. He took the tissue from Peter's hand and wiped the crusted blood under his nose away, careful of the swelling.

"It's okay to be shy Peter. There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, it can be a good attribute. I just want you to remember that you can't let that, or anything, stop you from doing something you want to do. Courage and bravery aren't the absence of fear, Peter. They are acting in spite of fear because you know it's right course of action."

Peter stared at his uncle, feeling his fingers brush through his hair before resting on his shoulder. Something in his face must have influenced his Uncle for Ben pulled him in for a hug. Peter froze at the unfamiliar sensation and then melted into his uncle. His strong arms enveloped Peter. His words spoke true for that moment. Peter was safe.

Someone laughed and he was back in the Tower surrounded by his waiting team.

A hand landed on his shoulder from behind and his heart stuttered an uneven rhythm.

"Congrats everyone!" May said coming around Peter to join the circle. Her hand was too small but for a moment, lost in the memories, it had felt so much like his uncle's. What he wouldn't give for Ben to be here today.

An echo of "thank you" went around the circle and May greeted everyone with one of her famous hugs.

"I've heard a rumor there's going to be fireworks or something at the end of this. What a way to celebrate your victory, right?" May said with sparkling eyes.

"We don't know we won." Peter responded but the rest of the team replied with enthusiasm.

"It's certainly a showstopper. Nothing around here is done halfway" Monica said.

"I expect not. Speaking of showstoppers when is Tony Stark supposed to get here?" She must not have seen the looks from Monica because Estee continued talking. "Is he making one of his world-famous grand entrances then?" Monica elbowed the girl in the ribs.

The group went silent. They tried not to but their eyes made their way to where Peter was standing. His hands ran down his tie again and the ground couldn't have been more interesting if Frank sprouted wings and a tail.

"Mr. Stark's not coming." Julia said after the tension rose. "Lee also mentioned that he was called away on urgent business but he didn't wish the teams luck because it was unnecessary. We were all too good for luck." She said, staring at Peter.

Mr. Stark wasn't coming.

Mr. Stark wasn't coming.

Because of him.

That was the only reason. It had to be.

Was he so disgusted with Peter? Did he mess up enough that the man couldn't even be there for his program?

Shame welled inside of him.

"Excuse me a moment." He mumbled. Peter turned around and stumbled away. People looked at him as he walked through the crowd. Somewhere quiet and alone was what he needed. Peter could almost hear all the whispers about him; about what they thought happened. The faces of his teammates, staring at him with wide eyes, remained in his thoughts.

The careful way they had treated him since Oscorp and the dissolvement of his internship came rushing up. Julia's quiet way of suggesting the library, the group chat where they would talk about nothing to do with their project, them all dropping notes and snacks off to him and then sitting with him to talk.

He'd thought they'd seen his smile and that was it, but somehow, they knew. They saw his pain and took steps to be there. For him.

"Peter." May called out as she followed behind him.

He didn't stop. A man in a velvet tux took a step back and Peter dodged him. He didn't spare the stage a second glance and continued beyond the buffet tables he had yet to peruse. Maybe he could go to the broom cupboard down the hall.

"Peter." May said again, closer this time. She touched his arm, wrapping her hand around his wrist and gently stopped his movement. Her hand slid down his wrist to capture his hand in hers. Skin met skin and Peter stared at the lines etched into his aunt's face.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. S'not your fault." He said. The occupants around them besides a cursory glance paid no attention and Peter shuffled his feet. "I- I just can't talk about it. And I wanted him to be here despite how much I wanted h… Why isn't he here May? It's my fault."

Peter wondered what man he'd failed he was talking about. His hands trembled and she gripped him tighter. May pulled them further toward the wall and away from people.

Her eyes, though older, still glowed like the first time she walked into his hospital room. She gazed intent at him and her words were harsh, but gentled by her thumb stroking his hand. There were no answers in her eyes but May did what she did best and that was bring him hope; bring him home.

"This was the tie he wore on our wedding, did you know? The tie he tried to teach you how to tie for the middle school promenade. Do you remember it?"

She pulled it from his jacket and, pressing her hands down the center tried to iron out the wrinkles he'd worried into it.

"You listen here Peter. I am so proud of you. So proud and happy and filled with this big ball of love we are standing in this room and that you're my son. I know this past year hasn't been easy. I've been working a lot and I know our apartment has been quiet. I've watched you and despite everything, you always work hard for others. Your Uncle Ben would be so proud." She was holding him by the shoulders, almost forcing him to look into her eyes.

"He was always proud of you, Peter. When you won the spelling bee and even when you stopped all that. He was so happy to be with us, our family, together. You know he'd come home sometimes after work, he'd tell me this after the fact, and just stare up at our house. Watch the lights turned on and off, knowing we were inside and waiting for him. And if Tony Stark doesn't want that, well I say screw him!"

Her eyes blazed and Peter believed her for a second until he remembered Mr. Stark's eyes. The way they looked through his face when he told Peter he didn't want him to stay.

"Anyone who has a bone to pick with Stark is a friend of mine."

Peter's shoulders tensed at the voice. The oil oozed out of the man's words leaving a heavy air around them. A slim hand entered his vision, injecting itself between himself and May. Spindle-like fingers waited for May to return the gesture. Peter stared at May begging her silently not to.

"I think you may have misheard me, Mr….?" She said shaking his hand. He cringed at the way May's hands looked curled around the newcomers like prey caught in a trap.

"I don't think so but we'll forget I overheard anything. It was quite rude to eavesdrop but I couldn't wait for the chance to talk to Peter here. Could you introduce me to this beautiful woman, Peter?"

Mr. Osborn smiled, curled, and Peter shivered. All he wanted to do was run back to his room under his covers, and away from all these people- from this person.

It was not worth wearing this ill-fitting tux over.

"This is my Aunt May. May this is Mr. Obsborn. He works at Oscorp." He held onto May's hand for a beat more then looked to Peter.

"There's no need to be so humble. I own Oscorp, which by the state of things over here is doing remarkably well. You may call me Norman."

"Yes, you exude humbleness." She gave pointed look to his green chatoyance tux. He cleared his throat and pushed back his hair.

Peter looked between them and in a rare thought of calm, he knew if anyone could take on Mr. Osborn, it was May. While her hugs were legendary, so was her temper.

"I was coming to say congratulations, Mr. Parker. Second place is quite a feat."

"We don't know the results yet."

If possible, his smile curled tighter. The man stepped closer, leaning towards them as if he was about to divulge a secret.

"Well, let's say I have some insider information. I even happened to skim through your proposal and was most impressed. You should be proud of him, May."

He hated how he said his aunt's name. May looked between them and stepped back towards Peter.

"I am." She said, wrapping her arm around his shoulder.

"Quite. Besides the fact your little group only came in second, I came over here to make you an offer Mr. Parker. Now you've seen the… paltry side of things. You would benefit from coming to Oscorp and seeing how a true visionary runs thing instead of how it's done here. You're speechless, I see. How about I sweeten the offer? That little serum you witnessed the last time. You could work on that again. Your friend has been working so hard on it but he can't quite get it right."

"Peter, what is he talking about?" May's hand tightened on his shoulder.

A feigned shock came over his face.

"Your boy here can tell you all about it later. What do you say, Peter? Ready to play with the professionals?"

Peter swallowed. His hands hung in fists at his side as he decided the best course of action.

There was no way in hell he was going to work for the man standing before him. It was enough being a foot away from him, smelling the pungent cologne, but then he was bashing Stark Industries. He was making fun of Mr. Stark. It didn't matter that he didn't want to see Peter again. None of that did at the moment.

Peter squared his chin.

He took a breath in and tried to take comfort from May by his side. She would never let anything bad happen but he couldn't stand by while someone hurt Stark Industries and all it stood for.

"Thank you for the…opportunity, but I much prefer places that don't have to steal their projects."

Mr. Osborn stepped forward and Peter resisted the urge to step back. His eyes narrowed to slits.

"If that's how you feel, Mr. Parker I wouldn't want to intrude on this… happy situation. We know what we're doing and what's happening. It's your loss if you don't see it." He turned to May. "But this is for you and I won't take no from such a fine woman. It would hurt my honor too much."

May reached forward to grab the business card in his hand and at the last moment he flipped his fingers over so his palm was supine and grabbed hers. Peter's breath stopped. He saw her tense up. Her hand pulled, ready to escape but Mr. Osborn held tight. Words were on the tip of his tongue when someone stepped forward.

"There you are Mr. Osborn, Sir. The press are doing rounds and need you to give a statement."

Mr. Osborn let May's hand fall and he finally stepped back giving them space, though his attention remained on the pair of them.

"I'm sure we'll see each other again. Give my regards to Stark if he ever decides to show his face." Mr. Osborn said, eyes lingering before Estee called his attention again.

They walked off, Estee turned around at the last moment and mouthed an apology to them.

Peter stood beside May in his favorite building in the world. People surrounded them but he would have rather been anywhere else.

"Why won't you tell me what this is all about, Peter? Peter? You need to breath, Sweetheart."

Somehow, they were home. He recognized the yoga mat May was pacing over with shoes on as the one situated in their living room.

It ruins the grip if you do that, she always said. Maybe she forgot. Maybe it didn't matter anymore.

He was sitting, no, laying on the couch. His head pounded. She was talking but Peter was too empty to receive her words.

"…here. You are here at our apartment, on the couch. I threw that ratty old blanket Ben tried to knit on you. Feel its weight over your body."

She was kneeling in front of him, her eyes bored into him, keeping him along with Ben's blanket grounded in their apartment.

He stared at her not understanding what she was saying. Not feeling anything besides the cracks fissuring through his thoughts.

May smelled of lavender.

Peter noticed her hair flipped out at the same angle as it had since he was a child. She sat next to him on the edge of the couch he was lying on, not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth of her skin and to smell the calming scent.

He came back to the world piece by piece; out of breath and melted into the couch.

May held Ben's necktie in her hands. It dangled between her legs and Peter became aware she was speaking to someone other than him.

Her head bent low almost touching the tie and her words drenched in loneliness echoed through the apartment in the picture frames of their family lying face down against the bookshelf and the worn paint not touched-up since he was in middle school.

Peter knew who the words were for and wished Ben could hear them somehow.

He reached forward and rested his hand on her leg.

"I'm sorry, May. I'm so sorry." His lips trembled and her hold tightened on him.

"No, Sweetheart. You have nothing to be sorry about. I love you so much, Peter. So, so much and I want you to do something for me. I want you to start working for yourself and no one else. I want you to start taking care of yourself and loving yourself. I know it's not easy and it downright sucks most of the time but can you try to do that?"

She moved so his head rested on her lap. Tears broke through and ran down his cheeks, soaking into her dress. He nodded into the material.

May held him. She didn't say anything besides her love for him and in the moment that was all that mattered.

It was funny, really. Almost ten years had passed but they ended up in the same place; locked in an embrace and heartbroken over someone leaving their lives.

He wondered why he hadn't given up yet.

He worried about what he should do now.

All he knew was the emptiness he carried around with him every day. How despite the absence of everything it weighed down on his body and soul. It made getting up in the morning and sitting with someone at lunch so difficult and he was tired of carrying it. He couldn't carry it anymore.

Peter wasn't happy.

He let the thought sink in. Let himself truly understand what it entailed. And then he tried not to worry about if he deserved it. Whether it was his right to be happy. All he wanted was the emptiness to be filled again.

There wasn't a path to go down and he didn't know where to begin, but May was here. She was always there for him and he hugged her tight.

He vowed he would find some way to try.

Because although he was only Peter Parker and he'd made so many mistakes so far. He wanted to be happy.

Let me know what you think :)