Changing yourself

The Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, and all associated characters are property of Marvel.

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"Reed, I need to borrow Peter."

Peter Parker and Reed Richards exchanged confused looks, before directing their confusion at Sue Storm. "What for?" the former asked.

"Something…potentially troubling," she said, lips pursed.

Peter scratched his cheek. "I mean, if you're fine with it, Reed."

"It's no problem—I can handle the rest of the calculations myself. If Sue's interrupting us, it must be important." With that said, he returned to the blackboard, muttering as he scribbled down numbers and equations.

"What's up?" Peter asked Sue as he walked over to her.

But she shook her head. "Not here. Somewhere private."

Peter blanched—that was never good. "Uh…is this about that cake in the fridge that I ate? Because in my defense, I'd just fought the latest variation of the Sinister Six, and I needed a pick-me-up."

"No," Sue said. "But don't let Ben know you're the one that ate it."

"Noted." He did not need the ever-lovin', blue-eyed Thing chasing him up-and-down the Baxter Building over a cake.

Sue led him to another one of Reed's labs. She locked it down as a soon as they entered it, and then formed an invisible shield around them.

Oh boy—now Peter was rapidly running through every little wrong he committed against the Fantastic Four. But which one would Sue want to call him out for. Unless…

Peter fell to his knees, hands clasped and held high. "Sue, I swear, I was going to return your old uniform! MJ and I just wanted to have a little fun!"

Sue jerked back. "Wha—no, ugh! You stole one of my old uniforms for—You know what, whatever. I don't care. Keep the damn thing."

"I was going to wash it."

"Stop talking." She took a deep breath and rubbed her temples. "I brought you here to talk about someone in my family who's gained something of an obsession over you."

Peter blinked, and slowly rose to his feet. "Really? God, this'll be the third time this month I've had this talk with Johnny."

Sue's lips quirked up, before settling into a frown. "It's not Johnny. It's Valeria. She's trying to hide it, but she's been looking up all sorts of articles and pictures about you; both as the superhero Spider-Man and the scientist Peter Parker."

"…Oh." Peter said, dumbly, he could admit. "So, when you say obsession, you're talking about a crush."

"No." Sue shook her head. "Val doesn't do 'crushes'."

"A ten-year-old girl doesn't do crushes?" Peter asked with a cocked brow. Although, she could be asexual or aromantic. Did people that young know those things? Granted, he didn't know just how much he liked girls until he was thirteen, so maybe it was a puberty thing. He'd ask around later.

"Oh, Peter." Sue crossed her arms. "You know Val's always been…different."

"Sure, but she's still a kid, Sue. A kid that thinks hanging out with Dr. Doom is a good past time and might have a crush on me, of all people, but, again, a kid."

Sue sighed. "Just…be careful, alright? Last time she took such a keen interest in something, she typed up a dissertation on how to subjugate the Kree."

"…Was it any good?"

"It was astounding," Sue said with pride. "But then she took our fascination for approval, and took it upon herself to put the plan into action." She huffed. "But who in the Fantastic Four hasn't almost started a war."

"I haven't."

"That big butt of yours says otherwise."

"I don't have a big butt!" Peter cried. He didn't. It was a normal butt!

"Do you even look at those selfies you sell to the Bugle?" Before Peter could retort—cameras add ten pounds, everyone knows that—she'd lowered the forcefield and unlocked the door.

"I don't have a big butt!" Peter shouted after her.

"Yes, you do!" A voice called from down the hall.

"Not now, Johnny!"

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Despite Sue's concerns, Peter didn't notice anything weird with Valeria the following week. She and Franklin mostly did their own thing within the Baster Building, but she was as polite, if impatient, as always whenever she stopped into Reed's lab to see what he and Peter were doing.

He didn't see or sense her staring at him more than normal. She didn't want to join him and Franklin when they hung out. Everything was…normal.

Of course, he believed Sue when she said Valeria had been collecting information on him, but if she didn't bring it up, he sure as hell wouldn't.

Alas, the good old Parker Luck had rear its ugly head in when he least expected it.

Reed had left the lab early—some other project with Ben needing his attention—leaving Peter to clean up. He sensed someone before the door opened, and seconds later in walked Valeria Richards, laptop cradled in her arms.

"Peter Parker," she said as she locked the room.

"Valeria Richards," Peter replied, sweat running down the back of his neck. Oh god, was he really going to have to turn down a ten-year-old girl? His niece, for all intents and purposes? He'd rather get beat up by two-fifths of the Phoenix Five again.

"I have something to discuss with you," Valeria said, hooking her laptop to the lab's projector. The screen lit up, and the screen was covered floor-to-ceiling with articles—old and new—of Spider-Man. Blocky, red-and-blue letters in the center read 'Spider-Man: A Study'.

Peter let out a strangled laugh. "Okay, Val, sweetie, I love you, but you know I'm married, right? And way, way too old for you?"

Valeria jerked back, face flush. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Poor thing was embarrassed. "Look, I'm flattered, but you're still a kid. You're too young to be making PowerPoint presentations on your crushes—save it for when you're twenty, like your Uncle Johnny."

Valeria spluttered. "I-I don't have a crush on you—I'm ten! And you're family! Who gave you that idea?!"

Peter wrung his hands together. "Well, your mom told me you were collecting information on me, and you are at that age. I think?"

All at once, Valeria deflated, a sort of melancholy leaking into her features. "Mom warned you about me, huh?"

"Just that you might have a crush," Peter gently replied.

Valeria snorted. "Don't lie to me—she doesn't think I can have crushes." Before Peter could say otherwise—or say anything—she turned to her laptop. "Anyway, I have been researching you, but not for something as banal as a 'crush'." She shuddered. "So gross. No, I've been researching your psychology."

"…Is this an intervention?"

"No, merely an observational study." The screen faded out to the earliest articles published about Spider-Man—from a lot of Manhattan's newspapers, not just the Daily Bugle. Specifically, it was about the time he got into a shouting match with a couple cops, which turned into the first time he was shot at by the police. Good times.

Valeria cleared her throat. "Your initial showings reveal a very belligerent personality. Save for cases directly involving a child, domestic violence, or sexual assault, your first action upon arriving at the scene would be to insult anyone that entered your field of vision. Sometimes you would even leave if you felt you weren't treated with an adequate amount of respect." The next screen showed…school records. "And before you were Spider-Man, your teachers noted severe, if relatively harmless, attitude problems. A sense of entitlement and superiority."

"How did you—did you hack my school records?" Peter asked.

"I needed a full picture," Valeria answered, unashamed. "And that picture depicts an arrogant brute."

"I wasn't that bad," Peter muttered.

Valeria sent him a flat look. "Within weeks of your superhero debut you broke into the Baxter Building, fought my parents and uncles, and when you found out they didn't get paid for being heroes, insulted them and left."

"…Okay I was pretty bad."

"However,"—Valeria switched to another screen, with articles from later in Peter's career. While the Daily Bugle still lambasted him, other news sources were singing his praises—"as time passed, you managed to change people's perception of you." Another transition, this one including videos of eyewitness testimonies, interviews with other heroes, even bits of that documentary that kid made on Spider-Man a while ago. "That perception has changed so much that many have forgotten your pugnacious origins."

"Val," Peter said softly, if sternly. "What's this about?"

Valeria stilled, before—and Peter couldn't believe he was seeing it—shrinking in on herself and hugging her shoulders. "Just…how did you change yourself? How did you make yourself…better?" Her voice was so small, so vulnerable. In the worst possible moment, she was acting her age.

Peter's heart just about broke in two. He walked towards her. "Oh, Val, sweetie…"

She turned away from him. "I know that I'm...different. Everyone's afraid of me."

"We're not afra—" she cut him off with a teary-eyed glare. "…We just worry."

She sniffed. "Because I'm scary. Even Uncle Victor, for all he indulges me, thinks something is just…wrong with me." Oh god, Peter not qualified for this.

"But you!" She turned to him with a frightening amount of hope in her eyes. "You've changed so completely from how you used to be! So please, just, help me stop…thinking wrong. Being wrong."

Peter sighed, and pulled Valeria in for a hug. She stiffened, but slowly reciprocated, squeezing him with all her ten-year-old might.

"Val," he whispered, rubbing her back. "I'm going to tell you something I haven't even told MJ. Okay?" Val sniffled, and nodded into his shoulder. "Those 'wrong thoughts'? I still have them."

Valeria pulled back; disbelief clear across her features. "Y-You what?"

Peter nodded. "It doesn't happen often, but sometimes, when I come across certain people, certain situations, those pugnacious, arrogant, brutish thoughts pop up first. The desire to scream at people. To wash my hands of a problem."

"Really?" Peter nodded. "B-But your history! Your past behaviors! Those were ingrained into your psyche since you were a kid! They define us! How can you just ignore that!"

Peter smiled softly, and wiped the tears from her face. God, she really was just a kid. "Val, people aren't that simple. We can change for the better."

"…How?" She asked lamely. "How did you change?"

"My Aunt May and Uncle Ben," Peter readily replied.

Valeria winced. "Yes, I imagine your uncle's death and the consequences thereof would provide an ample excuse to change." Her eyes widened in panic. "Wait, are you telling my you or Johnny or Ben need to die?!"

"No!" Peter did his best not to laugh at the absurd fear. "No, that's not what I'm saying at all. I mean, yeah"—he looked down with a frown—"Uncle Ben's death was an eye-opener, but even after it happened I was, as you so thoroughly researched, a bit of an ass." He looked back up at her with a soft smile. "But he and Aunt May…They always thought the best of me. Sincerely believed that I was a great person who would go on to help the world." Not for the first time, Peter thanked his lucky stars that Aunt May and Uncle Ben had been so patient with him growing up. He never made it easy on them.

Val's sullen expression returned as she shook her head. "No one…No one believes in me like that. Not even Franklin." She started to cry outright; Peter was sure his heart was torn to shreds.

"…I believe in you," Peter said, cutting through her tears.

Val shook her head, her hair whipping back and forth. "P-Please don't lie."

"I do!" Peter said, tilting Valeria's head up so she was looking at him. "Valeria Richards, I sincerely believe that you are a good person. That, even if you can't see it now, you can—will—become the person I know you can be."

Valeria maintained her sorrowful frown for another moment, before a bright, shy smile overtook. "Do you mean it?"

"From the bottom of my heart."

Valeria's smile widened, and she threw her arms around Peter. "Okay. I…I promise that I'll live up to your expectations."

"I just want you to be happy—we all do." He planted a soft kiss atop her head. "Now…You know you need to talk to your parents about this, right?"

"Yes but"-she shook her head—"not now."

Peter hummed. "Alright, not now. But you have to tell them soon. Trust me, keeping things like this from your parents doesn't end well for anyone." All the years he and Aunt May lost because of his own insecurities—he'd be damned if he let his niece waste her time like he had.

"I'll…I'll think about it." Knowing that was the best he was going to get out of her, Peter nodded.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, hugging Valeria. But eventually, they pulled apart. Peter smiled down at her. "You, little lady, look like you could use some ice cream. I know this great place a couple blocks over"

Val sniffed, a wide smile on her face. "I'd love that, Uncle Peter"

"Awesome! Just clean yourself up and I'll swing us over." She nodded, and collected her laptop before unlocking the lab. "By the way, that presentation was great. Really well put together"

"Thank Uncle Johnny," Valeria said. "I stole the base template from him."

"…You know, I thought I recognized that title slide."

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A/N: Valeria Richards is all kinds of messed up. She needs a lot of hugs. And therapy.