Summary: Peter's finally adjusting to his life at Dana's home. He's actually having a great day for once...that is until his Spidey-sense starts tingling while he's walking back from school.

Chapter 2: It Was A Good Day, or So He Thought

Peter is sitting on the beach, savoring the warmth of the sand as it slips through his fingers. Beside him, a man is sweating under the hot sun, struggling with a set of buckets as he tries to build sandcastles of various sizes. It's obvious that sandcastle building isn't his specialty—the towers collapse as soon as he lifts the buckets. The man groans in frustration, but Peter giggles and claps his hands a couple of times, offering his own encouragement.

"Never thought I'd ever see THE Happy building a sand castle for anyone."

A familiar figure approaches Peter and scoops him up in her arm. It's his mother. Peter smiles up at her, and then melts into her arms, soaking up the embrace.

"Well, baby Addie isn't anyone," the man mumbles while attempting to scoop the fallen sand back into a bucket with his hands.

"I knew my baby would have you wrapped up around his little fingers too sooner or later. But if I were you, I'd try using wet sand next time," the woman replies with amusement while gently patting Peter's back. Peter starts playing with his mother's golden locks, mesmerized by how they gleam in the sun.

The man groans again, dumping the sand away from the bucket and getting up. Peter laughs like it's the funniest sound he's ever heard.

"Yeah, I admit it's hard to say no to those big doe eyes he got going on," the man chuckles slightly.

The woman seems shocked to see the usually grumpy man laughing along with her son.

"Addie's really lucky to have you as his uncle, Happy. I appreciate you joining us on his first trip to the beach."

"Well, I just can't pass up the opportunity to become Addie's favorite uncle," the man replies.

They fall into a peaceful silence, just listening to the gentle rhythm of the ocean waves. Peter soon drifts off to sleep in his mother's arms, lulled by her soft, rhythmic patting and the soothing sound of the sea.

"Peter, time to get up! You'll be late to school!"

Peter opened his eyes and realized that he was dreaming. For the first time in a while, he didn't want to get out of bed. It's been too long since he had dreamt of his mother, and he tried to grasp onto every last detail. Most of his dreams the past couple of months were nightmares about Uncle Ben and Aunt May's deaths and he was tormented constantly from the guilt from failing to save them both despite his abilities.

'Weird… why'd Mom have blonde hair?' he thought, frowning. His memory of Mary Parker was fuzzy, like a picture he could never quite see clearly, but he knew she had brown hair, curly and a little wild, kind of like his. This version of her—blonde and soft-spoken—felt strange, but oddly familiar.

Then there was the other thing. 'Why was she calling me "Addie"?' That didn't even make sense. His parents had always called him Peter. Still, "Addie" echoed in his mind, like a memory he couldn't place.

"Peter, are you up? Your pancakes are getting cold!" called Dana, his foster mom, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, Mrs. Dawn! I'm up! I'll be down soon!" Peter replied, snapping out of his thoughts as he hurried out of bed. After quickly dressing in a red sweater and jeans, he splashed cold water on his face and jogged downstairs. The smell of chocolate chip pancakes drifted up from the kitchen, a comforting aroma that reminded him how lucky he was to have a place like this, even if it was temporary.

Sliding into his chair at the breakfast table, Peter smiled at his eight-year-old foster brother, Jake, who was already chowing down on his pancakes.

"Morning, Jakey. How'd you sleep?" Peter asked, grabbing a fork and digging in.

"Great! How about you, Peter?" Jake replied with a grin, syrup dribbling down his chin.

"I actually slept really well. No nightmares this time," Peter said, grateful for the break in his usual routine of bad dreams. It was nice, even for one night, to dream about something good.

"That's good to hear," Dana said with a warm smile as she zipped up two lunchboxes. "But you two better finish up if you don't want to be late for school."

"Will do, Mrs. Dawn! Thanks for the pancakes. They are so bomb!" Peter replied while shoving the last piece of pancake in his mouth and washing it down with some orange juice.

"Oh, and Peter, I'll be working late tonight. Make sure you and Jake eat some veggies for dinner, okay? There's frozen broccoli and asparagus in the fridge," Dana said while putting on her coat.

"But veggies are gross," Jake whined, scrunching up his face.

Dana shook her head. "Jake, you need to eat a balanced diet. Pizza and grilled cheese aren't going to cut it every day. Peter, make sure Jake eats at least three pieces of broccoli tonight."

Peter grinned, giving her a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am!"

Dana chuckled and gave Jake a quick pat on the back, then wrapped an arm around Peter in a side hug. "You boys have a good day," she said, pausing as she looked at Peter. "Oh, and Peter—I know you have that Spanish test today. I expect you to do a little better than last time."

"...sí, señora," Peter mumbled while packing up his school bag. Dana had Peter's teachers constantly e-mail her updates regarding Peter's assignments and test scores after she found out Peter was almost failing his Spanish and English classes in the beginning of the semester, back when he convinced himself that searching for Ben's murderer was much more important than finishing his stupid homework or studying. Dana made it abundantly clear, at least to his backside, that she disagreed. In the past month and a half, he managed to bring his English grade up to a B and his Spanish grade up to a B-. Peter needed to get at least an A- average in all his classes at the end of the semester in order to maintain his scholarship.

A part of Peter felt really embarrassed that Dana was still in constant contact with his teachers. He's always been a straight A student before this semester, and his grades have never been an issue to his aunt and uncle. However, another part of him feels grateful that she made sure Peter brought his grades up after September. Aunt May and Uncle Ben would be so disappointed if he lost the scholarship. And there's no way that he could come up with the money to pay Midtown's hefty tuition in order to keep going to school with his friends without it. Ned and MJ were all he had left of his old life now, so he had to keep the scholarship no matter what.

"Peter, I'll race you out the door!" Jake squealed while stuffing his lunchbox into his backpack.

Peter grinned. "You're on, Jakey!" He pretended to chase after his younger foster brother.

"Peter!" Ned called out, a huge grin on his face as he launched into their signature handshake—the one they'd spent all of fifth grade perfecting.

"Hey, Ned! What's up?" Peter replied, seamlessly falling into the familiar rhythm of the handshake, each move coming effortlessly.

"I brought Lola's famous Oreo cookies today! She said we should share 'em at lunch!"

Peter's face lit up, his eyes going wide. "Dude, no way! You know I'm obsessed with those cookies!"

"Morning, losers," MJ greeted, finally stopping beside them, her gaze still glued to her phone.

"Morning, MJ!" Ned greeted cheerfully. "What are you watching?"

MJ smirked, not looking up. "You guys ever heard of Buzzfeed Unsolved? I've been on a marathon since yesterday."

"Oh, totally! Which episode?" Peter asked, leaning in with interest.

"It's the new one on Aidan Stark. You know, today's the tenth anniversary."

"Tenth anniversary of what?" Peter asked, casually leaning against his locker but listening more closely now.

"His kidnapping. Duh," MJ replied, her tone deadpan as she glanced at him like he should have known.

Peter scratched his head. "Oh, right. I kind of forgot Tony Stark had a son who was kidnapped. Ten years already?"

"Yeah, crazy, right? I mean, who'd be bold enough to snatch Tony freaking Stark's kid?" Ned chimed in, his eyes wide with disbelief.

MJ nodded, still scrolling on her phone. "People think it might have been HYDRA or maybe even Obadiah Stane—Tony's old mentor. Plenty of theories out there."

Ned leaned in, eyes alight with excitement. "Whoa, I bet Aidan's being brainwashed to become the next Winter Soldier. HYDRA's probably training him to take down the Avengers! He'll show up out of nowhere one day and fight Iron Man, and they'll have this huge, epic showdown! Like, 'I am your father,' but real-life dark side stuff!"

Peter grinned, caught up in the idea. "That'd be so awesome!"

MJ rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically. "Can't believe I'm stuck with the two biggest nerds in a school full of geeks. It's been a decade, guys. He's probably long gone."

Peter's smile faded a little, the weight of it sinking in. "Yeah, maybe. But losing your kid like that? Poor Mr. Stark… must be brutal."

Ned nodded, his face more serious now, while MJ shrugged. "I mean, I don't feel that bad for Tony Stark. Dude's kind of a pompous jerk. But Pepper Potts? She's a total badass. I'd feel bad for her more than him."

Peter laughed softly at MJ's bluntness, but there was a tinge of sadness in his eyes. The thought of someone losing their kid like that, the pain it must leave behind—it hit close, even if it was just another story to everyone else.

Things were definitely looking up today, at least for Peter. He aced his Spanish test, and Lola's cookies were as delicious as ever—he devoured four of them at lunch. The decathlon practice also went smoothly, and Peter answered most of the questions right, much to Flash Thompson's dismay. Before he knew it, it was 6 p.m., and time for Peter to head home.

The November evening was perfect—just crisp enough to make his cheeks feel cool, but not so chilly that he'd need his jacket zipped up. The sunset was incredible, a splash of reds and oranges stretching across the sky. Peter decided to walk home, taking his time to admire it instead of squeezing onto the subway like usual.

As he walked, he reminded himself to heat up some frozen pizza when he got home—and not to forget the veggies. Mrs. Dawn would want him to make sure Jake ate at least a couple of broccoli florets, and he didn't want to let her down.

Suddenly, he felt the familiar tingle of his Spidey-Sense. Peter glanced around, instantly on alert, though he was without his suit or web shooters. He'd just come from decathlon practice and hadn't thought he'd need them. But if someone needed help, he'd figure something out.

He followed the faint buzzing sensation down an alley, creeping quietly until he could hear a gruff voice.

"I told you that you better have the money ready by today, you little punk," a tall, menacing guy in a black jacket growled at a younger man, probably in his twenties.

"Please, I only have three hundred… I'm so close. I just need a little more time," the young man pleaded. "I'm… I'm having withdrawals. Just a small dose, that's all I need. I swear I'll have the rest by next week!"

Peter's eyes went wide. He peeked around the corner, hiding behind a dumpster, trying to get a look without being seen.

"Do you think we just hand out extra Eureka?" the dealer snapped. "It takes months to make this stuff, and it's sold out instantly. Either pay the whole five hundred, or you're out of luck."

Eureka? Peter's stomach dropped. He recognized that name—that was the same drug that had led to his uncle's murder. This was the kind of person he'd been searching for, the one who might finally give him answers about Uncle Ben.

He felt around in his pocket, remembering the money in his wallet—two crisp hundred-dollar bills that Aunt May had given him for a new phone. But since Uncle Ben's death, he hadn't wanted to spend it. His old phone was barely hanging on, but it didn't feel right to buy something new. Maybe, though, he could use it now, just enough to get some information from this dealer.

He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and walked up to the two men, his hands raised like he'd seen people do in the movies. "Um, excuse me, sir," he said as politely as he could. "Sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear… and I, um, I was wondering if I could buy some Eureka too?"

The dealer's eyes narrowed, and in a flash, he pointed his gun right at Peter. "You better mind your own business, kid, if you don't want to end up in a world of hurt."

Peter gulped, feeling his heart thudding, but he pushed on. "Wait! I, um, I have two hundred, and I thought… if me and this guy went in together, we'd have enough to pay. You'd get five hundred, right?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

The dealer seemed to consider it, gun still pointed at Peter.

But then, out of nowhere, the young man whipped out a taser and jabbed it into the dealer's side. The dealer let out a grunt before collapsing to the ground, and the young man quickly kicked the gun away. He straightened up, pulling a badge from his jacket.

Peter's jaw dropped. This guy was a cop.

"You're under arrest for the distribution of illegal drugs," the officer said, cuffing the dazed dealer. "You have the right to remain silent…"

Peter stood frozen, realizing he'd just accidentally walked into the middle of a sting operation.

The officer turned and raised an eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed. "And you, kid—are you crazy? Trying to buy drugs from a guy with a gun? And what are you, twelve?"

Peter's eyes widened as he shook his head, flustered. "No, sir! I'm fourteen! But I wasn't actually trying to buy drugs, sir! I was just, um, trying to help! I thought maybe I could, you know… trick him into giving me some information?"

"Right," the officer replied, arms crossed. "You can explain that after we call your parents. They're going to be thrilled to hear this."

Peter felt a cold wave of dread wash over him as he trailed behind the officer, the weight of his mistake settling heavily in his chest. He was in so much trouble.