Well here I am, back with another Spider-Man story. Another one-shot - I figured I should write another Peter/MJ fanfic. (Thanks to everyone who said I should.)

This one's AU because Peter and Mary Jane have a kid. According to the comic, Peter was missing a leg and wasn't NYC's superhero anymore when their child was a teenager. In my version, it's different; in short, what would happen if they married and MJ gave birth sometime after the second movie. Again, I've got to do research before I even start thinking up a fanfic. (rolls eyes)

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New York was beautiful at sunset.

Or so thought Mary Jane Watson-Parker as she leaned against the railing of the veranda, one hand on her swollen stomach. Recently, she and her newlywed Peter had moved into the peaceful beachside condo at the outskirts of NYC. It hadn't been long before the young theatre actress had realised she was pregnant.

It had been a strange experience, actually. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, Mary Jane could still remember the day. She had awoken early on that fine, beautiful summer morning, contemplating the orange-glazed ocean that flowed in whitecaps away from New York.

Now, at this early hour when everything was sheened in the soft bronze light of early morning, was when she felt best, as it had been then. Mary Jane had sat up in bed, quietly running her and Peter's new predicament in her mind. She had climbed down from her bed, trolling calmly over to the window and throwing it grandly open so that a wave of brightness beamed out and everything had become basked in radiance. She had leaned on the window ledge as the light poured from the aperture; it was with a calm happiness, an inward joy, a bliss that was silent but definitely there. Bathed in the soft, gentle light, Mary Jane had placed one hand on her stomach to acknowledge this wondrous moment. Then, at that exact instant, inexplicably, she'd known.

The rest was pretty basic from there. After quickly skimming in her mind through other possibilities, MJ had decreed it to Peter: she was pregnant! But he, of course, being the rational and sensibly-thinking person he was, had decided that it would be more than a good idea to see a doctor about it. "You may not be pregnant," he had confided in his wife. "Or even worse, the child might be mutated. I know the perfect doctor we can see."

One hand on her belly, MJ had nodded. "You'd better be right about this, Peter Parker," she had teased him with a laugh.

So they had gone off to see a man Peter had referred to as simply Cure. Cure, a jovial man with a bushy mustache, had slowly but surely rubbed the soft skin of Mary Jane's abdomen, scanning her with a radar analyser as he did so. Within a few minutes, the process was complete. Cure had joyfully reported to the newlyweds that not only was MJ pregnant, the child was a girl and was currently in good health.

"I didn't check farther'n that, though," Cure told the two of them as he packed his medicinal instruments into a large navy blue leather bag. "Like, if she has superpowers and things like that. I'll leave that up to her to find out when she's older."

"Are you sure that's all right, though?" Peter intervened, anxiously chewing his lip. "I mean, what if she's mutated and injures herself?"

"Impossible," was Cure's smooth reply as he hitched his bag over one formidable shoulder. "She'll know how to use her powers when it's time – if she has any, that is. She's old enough for me to have noticed any prenatal mutation by now. Either way, Miss Watson-Parker, you're human, so the child shouldn't get any different powers than Peter has right now."

"But how did you do it, though, Cure?" Mary Jane had asked, picking up her own handbag as the big man prepared to go home that evening. "All you did was rub my belly and scan it."

"I have my ways," Cure had replied with a mysterious wink before going out.

Since then, MJ had puzzled about it to Peter frequently ('frequently' being about four times a day), but to no avail. With a small smile and a shake of his head, her husband had declined the offer each and every time. "Some secrets are best kept alone," he said on these multiple occasions. "All I can say is that Cure has superpowers."

Mary Jane was amazed – now why hadn't she figured that out? Still, she allayed her shock and calmly raised one eyebrow. "Bet you weren't expecting that," Peter had said with a teasing grin.

"Now we're talkin'." Mary Jane had flicked her silken locks over her neck as she posed one hand on his shoulder. They had walked on through Central Park for a while, the wind whipping their faces. Peter had draped one arm around his newlywed's neck. "What are we going to call our child?"

Peter stared hard at the ground as he turned the matter over in his mind. "I always liked your name, MJ," he began slowly, "but, somehow, I don't think that'll fit."

"You imagine our baby girl as being spunky and full of spice, not like poor theatre actress Mary Jane Watson-Parker (even though she's married to the great superhero Spider-Man)?" She played around with that last sentence, a smile flickering around her lips as Peter playfully ruffled her curls.

"Like you're not, you world-renown theatre actress." A pause; then, they both laughed. "Anyway, what I'm saying is, I don't think we should call our child Mary Jane."

"Yes – I agree with you." Mary Jane had paused thoughtfully as she had glanced at their reflections in the lake of Central Park. "Let's sit," she had instructed, indicating with a wave of her hand the bench behind them. "We have things to muse over."

They both sat; MJ had nervously chewed her lip and Peter had patiently waited for her bout of worrying to finish. "Done yet?" he teased after a few minutes of waiting.

"I was thinking we could call her Helga. It's a very nice name."

"Nice, but not good enough for our daughter." Peter comfortably stared up at the gray-streaked clouds providing a thin cover for the descending sun; in the orange half-light, both their figures were awash in a soft, peach-like orange shade. "Any other ideas?"

"You're supposed to think of some, too." A slow smile creeping up her features, MJ slowly turned to Peter. "I got it. How about we call her May? You know, after Aunt May."

"Eureka, Mary Jane." A gigantic smile plastered itself across his features there and then. "We'll call her Mayday for short. She'll be a big source of danger on the wide ocean of life."

"Cutting her own way through the waves of fate," Mary Jane had chimed in happily.

She smiled at that sweet memory, mesmerised for a long moment by the gulls wheeling around the setting sun. Their figures were outlined in fiery ochre tones that reflected from the sun and downward from there; her own figure had a touch of radiance added, owing to the brightness from the sunset. Everything was draped in the orange light that threw the very landscape of NYC into relief; everything was gilded with that same mellow, autumnal hue. And also, everything - every single little thing in that large, sky scraper-ridden New York scenery - gave her a warm, pleasant, bubbly feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The gulls cawed - much like ravens, MJ thought to herself - as their white, gray-speckled figures flitted through the seaside air. Their summonses drifted slowly into her ears and dripped slowly to her mind so that they were engrained in her memory like a nautilus under a thick, solid layer of sand. This was one day Mary Jane would remember for the rest of her life – she just had that feeling, and, despite the fact that she didn't know why, she knew better than not to trust it.

Maybe I'll give birth to May today, thought MJ with a smile as she posed one hand on her swollen belly; though she doubted it, it was a pleasant, refreshing thought. She was reminded once again of Cure; she and Peter had seen him twice since that bygone day of dazzling discovery. The jovial meta – somehow this suited him better than the word 'superhero,' as he had in no way donned tights and begun saving the world – had said that the child would be due a little prematurely. Mary Jane was only a few months pregnant - she was sure that, within time, she would give birth and everyone would be satisfied.

"May – Mayday…" MJ posed one hand delicately on her swollen stomach, feeling the beat of the child's foot in the womb. "You can't guess how much Peter and I are looking forward to this."

Or maybe she can, thought Mary Jane as she felt little May's foot cease kicking inside her body. With surprise, MJ noted that not only had the child had stopped fidgeting, but also that the pit of her stomach was suddenly drenched with a warm, pleasant sensation. It's like she knows I'm listening, the red-haired woman thought, a smile attaching itself onto her facet. I have to say I'm surprised, but I'm also happy, content. It makes me wonder what May will be like when she's born and how she'll shape her future.

Again, she was flushed with that pleased feeling in the pit of her stomach. It made her think of everyone who had had an effect on MJ's own life; she would have liked to thank them all for that, but – or so she thought – there were way too many of them. So many people have helped me since I was born, even though my father was so cruel to me. I'll make sure May never gets treated like that while she can call this place home.

Oh, yes, May, thought Mary Jane as one thin, fine lock of cherry-red hair fell on exactly the right place on her pregnant belly, We'll never let you down.

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"MJ! I'm home!"

These simple words, after having issued from his mouth, resonated slightly in the empty hallways as the one and only Spider-Man – more commonly known as local nerd Daily Bugle photographer Peter Parker – entered his new home. The place appeared deserted; that, Peter knew, either meant that MJ was outside on the veranda or else somewhere in the city, most probably shopping – well hey! She was a rich woman, after all.

I'm glad she's on maternity leave, he thought now with a very small smile as he deposited his bag, laptop and all related indicia on a nearby corridor side table. It means I can spend more time with her.

Instantly he felt guilty; it wasn't that he'd meant it in a sort of you-know-what kind of sense, but more the fact that he didn't normally spend as much time with the love of his life as he would have liked, what with the hustle and bustle of their hectic lives. Peter quickly decided to never think like this again, much less actually confess to MJ of his guilty-pleasure thoughts. It was important that MJ was happy; if she thought they were spending time together, then it was final.

Yeah, I'd really better be careful with what I think from now on. Biting his lip, Peter abandoned his office-related paraphernalia and made his way forward. It'd be better of if MJ didn't know about this – speaking of which, I wonder what she's doing out there?

This thought the only one on his mind, he moved on through the single floor of the house. He passed the comfortable living room, the semi-finished nursery, the small yet cosy kitchen, the scarcely-used dining room and the beautiful little bedroom he shared with Mary Jane before arriving at the veranda's entrance, which – conveniently enough – was situated near the western end of their bedroom. He slid back the screen door, quiet as he was as Spider-Man and twice as sneaky as he crept forward onto the stone balcony.

Sure enough, MJ was there, leaning against the railing. She was resting peaceably, arms dangling over the smoothly-cut stone, her waterfall of fluid scarlet sun-tinged hair trailing just past her shoulders; from where Peter was standing, she looked as if she were slouching. Stealthily, he tiptoed forward, sneakered feet barely making noise over the tiled-over pavement as he materialised behind MJ and daringly placed his hands upon her shoulders.

"I– Peter!" She relaxed as she allowed herself to melt into her newlywed's arms, feeling the soft touch of one gentle, reassuring hand press against her back. "I didn't hear you."

"I am a superhero, no?" Peter pointed to his chest with his other hand, indicating the red-and-blue suit underneath, as he contentedly stroked her flaming hair. "I have a right to be quiet and sneaky."

"Mm," came MJ's monosyllabic reply as she buried her head in the gray fabric of his nerdy-looking T-shirt.

"So how's little May doing?" Peter asked now as the two parted from the embrace. "Alive and kickin' – just like her mother, right?"

"Stop it, you," Mary Jane teased as she grinned deviously at her husband. "But – even though I regret to admit it – she's exactly as you said."

"Like mother, like daughter." Peter cocked his head to the side mischievously.

"More like chip off the old block." With an equally cheeky, flirtatious grin, MJ threw one lock of hair behind her head. "I get the impression that, some day, she'll be saving the world – just like her father."

"Some people never get it." Peter shook his head, a smile slowly appearing on his features. "She'll be a mix of you and me, I think – and her own person, too."

"Peter Parker. Now you have got that right." She smiled again; he grinned back easily. Both were caught in the moment.

The sunset shone down on silken locks and caught the glint of geeky glasses as the two of them embraced.

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"See? I told you. The child is alive and well."

MJ agreed as her midwife, Sheryll Houston, held up May. The baby giggled in the small woman's arms; she squirmed happily in spite of her tightly-squinched eyes. She made some movements in Mary Jane's direction; the proud and happy mother – correctly recognising these clumsy hand gestures – reached for May.

"Here you go, Miss Watson-Parker." Sheryl safely deposited the child in the said woman's arms, tears in her eyes she bowed and quickly scurried from the curtained birth unit, thus leaving Mary Jane alone with her husband.

"We did it, Peter." The redhead's eyes were large and literally glittering with tears. "We've had our first child."

"And I love her, MJ." He squeezed her hand, his own blue eyes gleaming like starlit sapphires. "Just like I love you."

"Peter… She's so beautiful." Fondly cuddling the young May Watson-Parker, she reached out one hand, groping, looking for the father's shoulder. There she hugged Peter, a tear of joy trickling from one wet eye as the happy young couple embraced the other. Little May, held aloft from in between the two's arms by her mother, gave a happy giggle and clung harder onto the fabric of Mary Jane's maternity gown.

"We're a family now, MJ."

"I know, Peter."

Random sounds emitted from May's mouth.

And as the three of them shared their first family hug, sunlight seeped through a crack in the window on the wall opposite the blue curtains, brightening MJ's labour pallor with a healthy flush of orange-ochre, throwing Peter's face into blood-red relief, shading May's chubby baby features with a soft, pleasant peach-colour. Now, this wasn't normal daytime sunlight. It was special, miraculous, marvellous, spectacular.

For it was the light of sunset.

Sunset, Mary Jane recognised. It's the light of sunset.

Sunset, acknowledged Peter. It gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling.

Sunset, noted some deep and hidden part of May's subconscious. It brings my family together.

Sunset, the three of them realised as they hugged ever more.