Again, the reviews I've gotten on this little story have left me absolutely astounded! Seriously, you people are amazing.

Song recs are a little less this time, just two: Not Alone by GT & Wildfire, and True Faith by New Order.

This chapter is a little divergent from the usual, featuring Peter a lot more than Michelle. For anyone curious, I thought it was interesting to expand on his POV, considering that's the one we watched Homecoming from. I'm of the opinion that all the relationships in Peter's life have as much importance as his relationship with MJ - May and Ned in particular. I have such respect for their characters. I thought it best to keep them a prominent part in his life, as they were in the film. It's all about continuity, folks.

Anyways, enjoy!

Tuesday night was normally a non-event in the Parker household. May was never one to stress out over stuff she felt only existed in order to stress people out, but Tuesdays were all about trying to remain sane for the rest of the week. A simple meal, early bedtime. Peter didn't mind so much – school was already enough of a pain as it was, without adding a 5 hour sleep schedule to it.

After everything, May was still remaining close lipped about her recent discovery. Peter, lying on his bed at 10, dressed in checkered pants and a t-shirt with the Starship Enterprise emblazoned on the front, sometimes caught himself wondering if he ought to bring it up. There were nights where May would stare at him, like she expected him to collapse or jump out a window. Other nights she was fine.

Some nights she spoke very little.

He got it, of course. Getting the suit back, walking around in his room with the door open – probably not his greatest plan. She'd walked past, staring at him, mouth agape, only to utter the accursed words: "What the fuck?!", for Peter to then whirl around, eyes liked saucers, having gone mysteriously mute.

It was a harsh memory to recall.

May had fumed – yelled at him to explain what was going on. He'd tried – and ultimately failed – to explain why he, of all people, was wearing Spider-Man's costume, and what on earth had happened to him.

The conversation had been very one-sided: Peter desperately trying to calm her down, and then try to explain everything. Top to bottom. The spider bite, the strange wall-crawling, the ridiculous put –together suit, the death of Uncle Ben, and then, eventually, the trip to Berlin.

And, of course, the introduction of the official, Amazing Spider-Man.

Peter sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, mussing his hair. The waves had yet to be tamed, but he'd managed to make it look better than yesterday. Michelle had asked if he was trying to look like a woolly sheep.

He'd scowled in reply, but she'd just laughed, smile bright but triumphant.

When he thought about it himself, he was still shocked to discover that the idea of him being a superhero still weirded him out – just a little. The idea that he could swing about rooftops, and climb walls, and sit atop skyscrapers of his own free will.

It was a teenager's dream, and yet…

It had its consequences. He'd learned that with Vulture.

He'd learned it again when May had found out.

Surely there would come a time when they would talk about it? So far, she hadn't stopped him going out or doing anything he'd hadn't already being doing, but he suspected that it wouldn't last long.

Sitting up on the bed, he took a glance around the room, thinking. It was a comfortable one, by many standards. Lit with a warm glow, posters, textbooks piled like mountains on his desk. Shelves to the right, stacked with all manner of books and Lego figurines. A badly balanced chess set on the desktop, fan shoved in the corner. Soldering iron haphazardly sitting on the edge of the chest of drawers, homework unfinished in a file pad. It felt like his place – somewhere he could be himself without any strings attached.

Except, his room couldn't save him from the inevitability of some things, and one of those was that conversation.

Sighing deeply, he jumped off the bed and walked to the door, pulling it open. If he didn't do it now, he probably never would.

What was the point of being a superhero if he couldn't be honest with the people he loved?

May was currently in the kitchen, busily making herself what smelled like a very strong coffee. That had been one thing he'd picked up on – her coffee had gotten stronger.

He tried not to wonder why, since he was 99 percent sure it was entirely his fault.

"Hey, May?" he called, scratching the back of his neck, unsure what he was actually going to say. Was this even the right time? Should he just leave it?

Loser, Michelle's voice echoed in his head, and he shook it away. This was his aunt – if he couldn't talk to her, he couldn't talk to anyone.

"Mmmm?" she hummed, stirring the coffee with a spoon as she turned to face him, still in her day clothes: a stripy top and black skirt, but her shoes were gone, leaving her barefoot, bright red nail varnish still visible on her toenails.

"Peter, are you alright?" Her expression had slipped into one of concern, brow furrowed. He'd seen that look many a time, even more so when she'd been unaware of him zipping about Queens via synthetic spider web.

Peter swallowed carefully, trying to find his voice.

"Can I ask you something?"

May tilted her head, mouth frowning.

"Yeah, sure, honey – what's wrong?"

He looked her in the eye, taking a few steps forward as he tried to form the words. This was more difficult than he had thought it was going to be.

"May, I – are you OK?"

Her frown deepened.

Panicking, he cut in before she could say anything.

"Look, I never meant for you to worry or get upset, but ever since you found out, I feel like we're just, I dunno – skipping around the conversation."

"Conversation? Peter, what -"

"The conversation!" he exclaimed, "About me! Being Spider-Man! About being a superhero, and being a kid, and not knowing what to say to you half the time cause I know you'll be upset and worry about me anyways! The conversation about you – about if you're OK, or if you want to talk about it, or about-"

His rant was cut short as May left her coffee on the counter, coming over and wrapping him up in a hug, embrace safe and secure. She'd been more of a mother than he even remembered his real one being. There'd always been faint memories of her – a flash of perfume, the glint of a smile in his mind's eye – but May had been the solid, real form of a guardian that he'd run to when the bullies had taunted him, or when he'd gotten an A on his report, or when he needed to talk about this girl he liked, or when he needed advice.

May had been there when so many others hadn't been.

And even after Uncle Ben, even after the Spider-Man guise, and the Vulture, and every other crazy thing that he'd done, and yet again made her worry over, she'd still been there for him when he needed her most.

She was the mother he'd always wished his real one had been.

"Peter," she whispered, letting go to take his face in her hands. He'd grown again, shooting up another inch or so, now looking right down at her. It didn't matter though – she still felt bigger than him. Stronger, and wiser, and better than he was. He'd made so many mistakes, and this woman – this amazing mother he had – had still taken him back again and again, determined to protect him and keep him safe. To be a guardian to him.

"Peter, what you do – what you failed to tell me – it doesn't matter now."

"But, May -"

"No, listen to me, because I'm serious. Whatever's going on with you – these powers, this identity – this job that you have? It's fine. But what I worry about is you. Not Spider-Man. It won't matter how many times you tell me you're fine, swinging about rooftops or jumping off walls or climbing buildings. I'm terrified for you. For Peter Parker, not Spider-Man. Spider-Man's just a mask with a suit. He's a symbol, an identity, a being. But Peter, you – you're the boy I've been looking after since you were little, so of course I'm terrified. Of course I'm worried."

Peter looked down at her, tears beginning to well up in his eyes as he looked at her, seeing the exact same expression in hers.

She was terrified of losing him like she had her husband.

She swallowed carefully, running a hand through his hair, brushing it from his face tentatively.

"But sweetie, you're a determined guy. I've seen it – you're exactly like your father was, and that stubbornness and that determination are just who you are. You're a young man now, Peter – and you've got something that can be used for so much good. So much good. And I'm not going to stop you from doing what you think is right. But you have to promise me that the man that I know you are doesn't get lost underneath the suit, or the identity. I can't bear to lose someone else, Peter. So all I ask is that you be safe. Safe, not just for yourself, but for me. And just come home."

Peter stared at her, water blurring his vision. She stroked his cheek, wiping away a tear as it rolled down, his eyelashes coated with unshed tears. He dived in for a hug, wrapping his arms right around her, head in her shoulder.

"Awk, love, c'mon." But she didn't pull away, instead stroking his hair, smoothing her hand down his back.

"I promise I will, May. Seriously." Peter said, words muffled against her top. He pulled away, smiling faintly.

"In time for dinner every night,"

May laughed, bringing his head down to kiss his forehead tenderly. If anything, the young boy she'd taken in looked so much like, and yet so unlike, the boy that stood in front of her now.

"You better. You might be a superhero, but dinner is still at 6,"

He laughed himself, just as the radio switched to the next song.

"Oh, I love this!" she cried, rushing over to turn it up loud.

Peter laughed, wiping away the last of his tears.

"Would you dance with your aunt before bed?" she asked lightly, laughing as she did so.

Peter nodded, and that was how the Parkers ended up dancing around the apartment, giddy laughter filling the room.

x x x

The next day at school, Ned continued to laugh at the image of Peter with sheep's wool for hair, courtesy of Michelle still calling him Shaun the Sheep, since the waves in his hair looked there to stay. It hadn't mattered how often he'd tried combing it down – suddenly, his hair was being as stubborn as he was, and refusing to stay down flat. Sooner or later, he'd come in looking like he'd been living wild. It was probably the mask's fault.

The day sped by, but Michelle seemed to be asking a lot of strange questions.

As they made their way to English, she sidled up to him, a sharp glint in her eyes.

"Hey, Parker,"

He turned round, catching her gaze. He'd reached the same height as her now, able to look her straight in the eye. She hadn't taken it so well, considering that she could no longer tease him for that as well, on top of all her other taunts.

"Uh – yeah?"

"You're friends with Spider-Man, right?"

He stopped short, Ned being none too subtle as his eyes widened, looking ready to choke.

"Mmmm – well 'friends' is a little much –"

"You telling him about me?"

Peter froze, blinking.

"What?"

Michelle frowned, raising an eyebrow.

"Funny, considering he came round to my house yesterday, and knew my name,"

Peter tried to look as innocent as he could, Ned hyperventilating behind him.

"Oh, right – he did? I mean – I might have mentioned you? Once. Or twice. I dunno. It was a long time ago,"

"On the internship," It wasn't a question on her part.

He laughed nervously, hitching his bag straps onto his shoulders again. Holy crap, why hadn't he figured out he'd said her name?

"Yeah, the – internship,"

Michelle sighed heavily, rolling her eyes as she stalked off ahead of them. Ned turned to him, mouth open wide.

"Dude, what did you do?!"

"Ned, seriously-"

"You said her name?!"

"Yeah, I said her name! It was an accident!"

"Peter, she's going to find out you're Spider-Man!"

"Ned, keep your voice down!" Peter hissed, as they traipsed on to English, glancing around them cautiously. This was honest to God not a conversation for the school corridors.

"But Peter –"

"It was a slip up!" he said hastily, as they reached the classroom door, Peter turning to his best friend with serious eyes.

"It'll be fine, man. Seriously."

"She's one of the brightest girls in our year, Peter,"

He couldn't argue there.

Peter huffed out breath, stepping through the door as they made their way to their seats, very aware of Michelle's keen gaze on them, book opened on her desk, but very much concentrating on their conversation. Or at least, what she could hear of it.

Sitting down, he made a show of taking out his textbook, all whilst Michelle's eyes burned into his back, even if he couldn't see her.

This was bad.

If Michelle was anywhere near as intelligent as he knew her to be, that one slip-up could be his last one.

If he wasn't careful, she'd know within the week.

And that was a lot more terrifying than he had thought it would be.

x x x

His afternoon as Spidey turned into one of complete upheaval, as the city burst into chaotic life the minute he donned the mask and began swooping around the rooftops. There were days were crime was barely a whisper on the streets, with him instead filling his afternoon patrol with helping the little guy do the little jobs. He remembered the one time some little girl had lost her mum, and he'd walked her round until they'd found her. She'd given him a tight hug, blushing wildly. She'd only been about 7 years old, but it made his heart warm at the thought of it.

It was doing things like that, that made him immensely happy with his lot in life. To be able to help everybody as he could.

He was trying.

But there were other days where everything seemed to be falling apart. Car crashes, muggings, theft. He didn't mind the heavier stuff – it just took up a lot more time. There'd been one car crash he'd been unable to sleep after – an incident where the passengers were pretty badly injured, the blood thick and wet on their skin, matted in their hair, as he'd helped pull them out. He was not afraid of blood by any stretch – but even that much could make someone's stomach turn. It hadn't been a pleasant experience, but everyone injured had survived.

Just.

As he zipped about on his web, swooping down low and throwing himself up high again, freefalling back into the traffic again as he kept an eye around him, he still felt a fresh thrill at the adrenaline coursing through him, as he sailed by skyscrapers and high office blocks, kids waving at him from the sidewalk, eyes wide in amazement. There was something unbearably innocent in their admiration. He loved them for it – they made it all the more worth it.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of an old man being dragged off behind a building by three masked men, each heavily built with thickset arms and legs.

Looked like trouble.

Spider-Man was in.

He was still in a pretty crowded part of town, the cars rolling by, hoards of people swarming past as they tried to make their way downtown. Looping round the building, he caught the ledge and flipped up, peering over to catch a glimpse of the action. The old man had been cornered against the wall, his hands up, fear etched on his features. Peter took a guess he was in his early sixties, if a little older, and he seemed frail.

Some people are seriously wacked, he thought, webbing the wall and flipping over, grabbing the web as he lowered himself, once again classically upside down.

The old man caught sight of him over the man's shoulder, eyes widening a fraction. Peter saluted to him, just as the men turned around.

"Oh, hey, you guys!" he chirped, just as the first man threw a punch his way, which he dodged, flipping up onto the wall behind him, hands spread wide against the brick.

"Watch my nose, dude!" he exclaimed, as he shot more webs at his face, blinding him, sending him stumbling into the street. He landed on the ground again, looking for him.

"Have fun!" he called after him, just as he turned around, seeing the old man receive a punch to the face, sending him to his knees, the blood dribbling from a cut over his eye.

"Hey! Hey! Hold up, dude – if you're gonna punch someone, at least punch an ugly face like yours!" He flipped over his head, webbing him to the nearest wall, the gun he'd been holding clattering to the ground. The last one had kicked the old man before trying to run, but he'd been too slow to leave – he found his hands coated in the sticky web, itching his skin, as he toppled over, his comrade staring down at him from the wall, his mouth webbed shut.

Peter lurched forward, dropping to his knees as he turned the old man over, whose face was twisted in pain.

"Hey, you OK, old man?" he asked gently, helping him up.

He looked at him, squinting as his eye began to swell, the blood leaving a trail on his face.

"We'll get you to an ambulance, OK? Yeah, yeah, you're good, you're fine."

He felt himself shaking as he put his arm around his shoulder, carrying him back out to the street.

The cops had already been called, an ambulance in tow, who readily took the man from Peter's arms, leading him over to the back of the ambulance van to get his eye sorted. Peter stared on, his heart beating fast. Usually muggings took very little out of him – they were quick and painless jobs, finished in an instant. The criminals were feeble and weedy.

But that man.

He was a civilian like anyone else, but he wasn't as strong as he once might've been.

He was aging – at the later stage of life. Peter had no doubt he could more than look after himself, but being beat up was never a pleasant experience.

Even as he swung up again, shooting out to the next building, his stomach felt hollow.

x x x

Lying on his bed, phone to ear, Peter waited for Ned to pick up. Ever since he'd come home, May casting a concerned glance his way as he traipsed into the kitchen, still suited up bar the mask, he'd felt empty at the thought of what had just happened. She'd asked him what was wrong, but he'd brushed it off as a rough night. She'd smoothed his hair back, making him a cup of tea, telling him to go and rest.

He'd done as he'd been told.

Ned finally picked up.

"Peter?"

"Hey, Ned," he replied, voice soft and tired. It had been a long day, and he could already feel the exhaustion creeping up on him.

"What's up?" Ned's voice remained chipper, but after a pause, silence filling the line, it turned worried.

"Dude? You OK?"

Peter rubbed his face, his eyes feeling heayy. Man, he hadn't expected this to be so hard.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just – something happened today,"

"Did Tony Stark call you in for another mission?!" Ned couldn't disguise his excitement, as shuffling could be heard from the end of the line, seating himself comfortably at his desk.

Peter smiled wanly. Ned was so geeky, even by his standards.

"No – just the usual. Crime-fighting. Webslinging,"

"Badass,"

"Mmm, yeah, I guess. 'Cept…" he paused. How did you even introduce that to the conversation?

"Yeah?" Ned's voice paused.

"There was a mugging," Peter began, staring at the underside of the top bunk bed. His room was lit by one of his lamps, dimmed so May wouldn't be too bothered he was still up at this time – 11pm to be exact.

"Oh," the deflation in Ned's voice made Peter grimace. Maybe he should've kept quiet.

"What happened?"

Peter sighed, putting an arm behind his head.

"An old guy – he got injured. I webbed them up and all, but – he got injured. It's kinda been bugging me is all,"

The line remained silent, as Ned contemplated his answer. Usually, any mention of Peter and his wall-crawling antics had them both grinning like idiots, but this was a territory he'd known had been coming sooner or later. He'd already confessed about the parking garage incident when he'd fought Vulture. His usually bright face had been vacant and hollow, as if even just recalling the memory was pain enough.

Finally, he spoke.

"Peter – it's gonna happen. I know that's hard to get – it's tough. But you're Spider-Man! It's what you do! At least you're making solid choices."

"You mean at least I'm not being suspected of watching porn in the school computer lab?" Peter couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice.

Ned snorted.

"Something like that. But yeah – people'll get hurt. But you're good – it'll happen, but you can keep stopping it, you know? I wouldn't worry. Don't let the muggers get you down,"

Peter paused, face breaking into a wry smile.

"Did you just make a Harry Potter joke?"

Ned stayed silent.

"Maybe?"

Peter snorted himself, feeling a little better.

Yeah – he'd be alright.

As always, reviews are welcomed!