Chapter Text
The bonfire wasn’t Peter’s idea.
Peter may have briefly mentioned it to May one night, throwing it out there and not really expecting it to stick.
It was 11 o’clock at night, and May had only just come home. Her long day at work had clearly taken a toll on her; she slumped down onto the couch without even taking her shoes off. May heaved a sigh of relief at finally being able to have her feet off the ground and relax in the comfort of her own home.
Peter cuddled up closer to his knitted blanket and nudged himself further into the fabric of his armchair, trying to ward off the winds that snuck themselves inside when May had shut the apartment’s front door. One side of his face was shadowed as he turned his head toward May, but his profile glowed a light blue from the TV screen. He reached for the remote and turned down the TV’s volume.
“Have you ate dinner yet, Peter?” May asked him. Her voice was always strong no matter how tired she was feeling.
“No, but I made some,” Peter replied. “I was waiting until you got home. It’s on the stove.”
Even in the dark room, Peter could see the softness of May’s smile.
“C’mon, then,” May said, getting up from the couch. “You didn’t have to wait on me, but I appreciate it.”
Peter threw off the blanket that kept him warm that chilly October night. Earlier he had made the perfect comfort food: chicken-noodle soup. Well, heated up some soup. From a can. That alone was good enough for being in high school, Peter thought. Soon enough, he would be a better cook than May. At the rate he was going, it would happen really soon, hopefully.
“You’re home late.” Peter noted as he poured some soup into two glass bowls, eyeing May as he did so.
“And you’re home early.” May quipped. The two of them sit down at their table. “Why’s that?”
Peter shrugged. He hunched over his bowl of soup, swirling his spoon and the noodles along with it.
“You don’t get to just shrug at me— you know better,” May said. “Look at me. What’s wrong?”
Peter looked up, but he wasn’t sure how to answer.
“I just…” he trailed off. What was he supposed to say? Nothing was really wrong. Maybe he really just wanted to be home in time for his favorite show that started at 10. Maybe he wanted to take the extra time to study for his Spanish quiz rather than try to commit 30 vocab words to his short-term memory the next morning. Maybe he wanted to get more than 4 hours of sleep and look a bit more fresh-faced for MJ, like that would help his cause any.
Maybe he just really missed May and wanted to spend time with her.
Imagine his disappointment when she wasn’t there.
“It’s not that I’m complaining or anything— I love coming home to an apartment with you in it for once,” May said, getting up to fill herself a glass of water from the sink. She sat back down afterwards, setting her glass on the table and leaving a ring of water on its wood. “I miss you, Peter. I feel like we are always coming and going, and we miss each other.”
Peter nodded. “I get that. I do. I’ve missed you lately, too.”
The two of them never talked outright about Peter’s after-school habits. About patrolling. About being Spider-Man. May worried enough about it all on her own without Peter having to bring it up. He never gave her much to go on since he rarely ever came home worse for wear. But when Peter left the apartment every morning, he could still see the concern in her eyes when she told him to have a good day and to be safe, please. Please.
“This was just an off day,” May said to him. “I’ll be home earlier tomorrow. Maybe we can actually have dinner and not a late-night snack.”
“Tomorrow’s Friday,” Peter began. “You have any fun plans?”
May scoffed. “No, do you?”
Peter paused. "Actually… maybe?”
May dropped her spoon in her bowl, and she became the most lively Peter had seen her all night.
“Are you serious? You’ll actually do something a normal teenager would do for once?” May asked, bewildered at the thought. Peter rolled his eyes, smirking.
“How about I ask you for permission first like a ‘normal teenager’ would do?” Peter asked instead. It proved to be redundant. Even though May did her best, she was never the authoritarian type. She was too excited for Peter to show interest in things other than his “internship.”
“You’re right— you’re 15 and you still need my permission to do most things.” May said. She was pulling a sarcastic smile now too. “So what is it?”
“The decathlon team is having a bonfire at Flash’s place,” Peter answered. “It’s supposed to help boost team morale for the new season. Ned’s roping me into it, really. I didn’t want to go; I’d really rather—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” May said, pointing her spoon at him. “You’re going.”
“Aren’t you supposed to ask, like, what time is it? Will his parents be there? Is there going to be alcohol—”
“Hey, I’m still getting used to this too, okay? The whole ‘you-asking-me-for-permission’ thing?” May said, getting up to put her and Peter’s empty bowls and the rest of their dishes into the sink. Peter made a mental note to wash them in the morning or else they would sit there all weekend.
“I know,” Peter said softly. “I know.”
The two of them fell quiet. May sat back down in her chair, and she was staring at Peter. It was not in an accusing way. It was not somber either. It was sentimental. She was committing to memory a normal night, having a normal conversation with her normal teenage nephew, Peter Benjamin Parker.
It was like how it was before.
“Seriously, no drinking though, okay?” May finally broke the silence. “But if you really have to, call me. I don’t want you and Ned wandering around Queens drunk. You’re too young; you’ll stick out too much.”
“‘If I really have to’?” Peter quoted, laughing. “Can I even get drunk? You know… with my metabolism.”
“I don’t know, but you’re not testing it out tomorrow night,” May stated, “...maybe some other time.”
May stood up and walked around the table to Peter’s chair. She put her arms around his shoulders, giving him a hug. He nudged his nose in her arm as she held him tight.
“Thanks, May,” Peter said. “I won’t stay out too late. Promise.”
She kissed him on the top of his head.
“This bonfire is a great idea.” May mumbled into his curls. “You should think of stuff like this more often. It makes your Aunt May happy.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” Peter said, shaking his head, “but I’ll take credit for it. Ned can just deal with it.”
She gave him a grin, but soon it turned into a yawn.
“I’m heading to bed,” she said. “You should too. Turn the TV off before you go though,”
May ruffled his hair as she pulled away from, earning a cringe from Peter as she walked toward her bedroom.
“‘Night, May,” he called out across the apartment. “Love you.”
“I love you, too. Sleep well.” she replied. Within the next minute, Peter heard her flip her bedroom light off and the springs of the bed mattress give in.
Peter left the kitchen and went toward the chair that he was lounging in earlier. He lifted the blanket to find the remote shoved far down in between the chair’s cushion and its armrest. He turned around to face the TV to press the remote’s red off button, but he stopped short.
The 11 o’clock news was still on.
6 hours ago, there was a break-in at an apartment complex.
4 hours ago, there was a robbery at a restaurant near Midtown Science High School.
1 hour ago, there was a shooting not even a few blocks from their apartment.
He should have heard that one. He would have, if he were paying attention. If he were out there patrolling, not under a blanket while all these crimes were happening.
He tried to swallow his guilt, but it left a bad taste in his mouth, one that he couldn't shake. It wasn’t one that even soup with May could fix.
All the comfort that came with May and having a normal night didn’t do anything for him now.
His heart in his chest was throbbing against his ribcage. It beat harder when he realized how many people were hurt tonight. His cheeks flushed a searing red, burning with the feeling of oh god, what have I done?
“I…” Peter’s voice fell around the vowel. His lips started to quiver.
Whatever lecture or snarky comment he wanted to give, the criminals couldn’t hear him. Whatever apology or atonement he wanted to say, the victims definitely couldn’t hear him either. The words now get stuck in his throat, and he felt like he had to gasp for air.
It was his all fault; he was sure of this. Everyone knew it. They all blamed him, and they were right for it, Peter believed. He could have been there. He should have been there, at every single one of them. The people of Queens— they were counting on him, always. He had a responsibility to them, always. He let go of that responsibility tonight.
Peter looked down at the floor. The shame had fully rushed over him, and he sniffled his nose. He struggled to hold back a few tears, but they were already well on their way down his cheeks, clouding his vision. He turned the TV off and threw the remote back in the chair.
Criminals never took the night off, so neither could Spider-Man. Neither could Peter.
He had to do better.
--
Peter took the subway on his way home from school, like he always had.
He wore his headphones like he always had too. His senses had been dialed to 11 for months now, and riding the subway wasn’t the most serene environment. The lurching. The doors jerking to a close. The jumble of smells. More and more people squeezing in closer and closer to him. So many conversations, loud, all at once. With his headphones in, he could at least focus. He could concentrate on the song’s lyrics, reciting them to himself like a poem to find tranquility against such a bustling backdrop.
Peter was on his way home, but he wasn’t supposed to be.
He had told May that morning that he was going straight to Ned’s place after school; they’d then go over to Flash’s house for the bonfire later that evening. But Peter hadn’t slept at all last night, and he had been distracted all day. He could hardly remember the vocab words he had studied for his Spanish test. His mind was preoccupied some place else, outside of that classroom. Outside of his school. Outside of his and May’s apartment.
He had gone through this before, feeling a need that he could be doing more. He should be doing more. He has had his powers for over a year now. He knew what he was capable of doing. He had his suit. He had Karen. He had Mr. Stark.
So why shouldn’t he be doing more?
Why was he wasting his time and effort going to some bonfire?
The train tottered to a stop once again, its passengers leaning along with it. Peter shuffled his way through the maze of people to its doors and stepped off onto the platform. He headed toward the staircase, taking the steps two at a time, and emerged aboveground to meet the city streets of Queens.
He kept his head down, headphones in, and hands shoved in his pockets. He only looked up when he got inside his apartment and shut the door behind him.
“Peter, is that you?”
Shit. Peter cringed. He forgot May would be home early tonight.
“Yeah, I’m just grabbing something real quick,” Peter shouted across the apartment. He took his headphones out and unthreaded them from his sweatshirt.
“I thought you said you were going to Ned’s after school?” May asked, her voice echoing in the bathroom.
“Yeah, I am. I just needed to grab something and then I’ll be heading out again,” Peter answered. He rushed into his bedroom, opening his closet door.
“What are you grabbing?”
Where is it?
“Uhh, just another jacket, in case it gets cold tonight,” Peter lied. He started throwing clothes from their hangers onto the floor.
Where is it? It's always right here—
“You looking for a specific kind of jacket?” May was now standing in his doorway.
Peter faltered.
She rose her eyebrows, staring suspiciously at him.
“Where is it, May?” Peter asked, trying but failing to keep the accusations from slipping into his voice. “Did you take my—”
“I don’t think you’ll need your suit for a bonfire, Peter,” May replied. She turned away from his doorway.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Peter started to panic. He followed her around the apartment, trailing behind her as she turned toward the kitchen. “May, you don’t understand. I- I need it—”
“What on earth for, Pete? Seriously, you don’t need to rely on that suit for everything,” May said.
Peter’s head was pounding. She had never done this before. She had never taken his suit. He had to get it back.
“May, please,” Peter couldn’t keep himself from begging. “Okay, look— the bonfire’s been cancelled. Ned never wanted to go. I- it was never real. I need the suit tonight. Okay?”
May stopped in her tracks. She spun around to look at her nephew, disbelief and disappointment all over her face.
She shook her head, angrily.
“What the hell has gotten into you?”
“May, please—”
“Seriously, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” May was fuming. “You’re lying to me now? W- what is this? Is this something Stark has got you doing?”
“May, you don’t get it!” Peter pleaded. He was balling his fists with the sleeve of his sweater. “You won’t understand—”
“Try me,” May gritted the sentence through her teeth. Her voice continued to raise with every next word she spoke. “I don’t know what’s going on with you that makes you think lying to me is okay when it never has been before—”
“I feel guilty!” Peter shouted over her.
May blinked at him, shutting her mouth and crossing her arms. She waited for him to continue.
Peter didn’t know what to say.
“I-I feel so guilty,” Peter repeated. He spoke slowly, finding his words. “Last night, I didn’t put on the suit. And it kept me awake all night. So many people got hurt last night. So many people, May. I could’ve helped them. I should've helped them. I should’ve been out there. Not here.”
Tears were welling in his eyes, and May could tell. She stepped toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Peter…” she began to say his name, but he started shaking his head.
“I’ve missed you so much, May, but I should have been helping them last night,” his voice broke. “I’m the only one who helps them. And I wasn’t there for them last night. It’s all my fault. All of it, May.”
May pulled him into her, and Peter buried his face into her shoulder, tears dripping.
“Peter,” May spoke softly into his curls, “The world doesn’t rest on your shoulders. It shouldn’t.”
May hugged her arms tighter around him, and Peter held onto her. His breaths became more even, but his eyes were still watering and his nose was still running. He sniffled, pursing his lips.
“God, you’re only 15 years-old, Pete,” May said. “All the blame shouldn’t fall on you.”
May took him by the shoulders to face her. Peter bit his bottom lip as she wiped his tears away with her thumb. She looked him in the eyes.
“All the responsibility doesn’t fall on you. It shouldn’t, Pete.” May said softly. “You don’t deserve that.”
Peter couldn’t believe her. He couldn’t will himself to think that just because he was young, all the responsibility that came along with having his powers was diminished. He couldn’t believe that just because Spider-Man had an aunt that he missed and wanted to spend time with, the blame for all that happened last night couldn’t be placed entirely on him.
But May could separate Spider-Man from Peter Benjamin Parker. She could differentiate a neighborhood crime-fighter from a 15 year-old Midtown Science student. She could tell the difference between a superhero and an overburdened teenager.
And she was right.
Peter Parker didn’t deserve all that guilt.
“Okay, May,” Peter whispered. “Okay.”
He had stopped crying now, but his eyes were still red and raw. He sniffed his nose again and rubbed his face with his hands.
“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked, but he meant it still.
“I get it, Peter,” she replied. “I understand you. I really do. You just have to talk to me.”
Peter nodded. He looked down at his feet, crossing his arms against his chest and holding himself now. May lifted his chin with her index finger.
“You’re going to that bonfire tonight,” she told him.
“I know.”
“With Ned.”
“I know.”
“Without the suit.”
“...Okay.”
“And you’re going to have a good time, all right?” May told him. “You’re going to have a good time with your friends, and you’re not going to feel guilty about it. You shouldn’t, Pete. You can’t. You can’t keep living like that.”
“Okay, May,” Peter said. “I hear you.”
May smiled at him warmly.
“You better get going,” she insisted. “Ned is probably wondering where the hell you’re at.”
Peter agreed. He made sure he had his phone and his keys in his pocket and made toward the door. He turned its doorknob.
“You’re going to tell me where you’ve hidden my suit when I get back, right?” Peter asked.
“I’ll have it back in your closet by then,” May answered, “But I want you to go to bed when you get back since you didn’t sleep much last night, okay? Preferably after you’ve taken a shower, though. I don’t want the apartment smelling like smoke.”
“Okay, May, I will,” Peter replied. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” she said with a wave. “Have fun tonight.”
Peter grinned. He left the apartment and didn’t turn back.