Chapter Text
Peter couldn’t move.
Several doctors, and Peter, stood in a semi-circle around a hospital bed, with a dead May Parker on top of it.
All Peter could hear was the long steady beep of the heart monitor, and the doctor’s quiet chatter around him. He was paralyzed, in both mind and body. He didn’t even notice when the doctors left the room. Peter didn’t feel anything but shock. He didn’t even feel scared, or upset like he thought he would when he worried about this moment weeks ago. At least not right away.
He felt almost, relieved, now that he thought about it. Relieved that Aunt May didn’t have to live in pain any longer, relieved knowing she was in heaven with Uncle Ben, and his parents. Knowing that she was finally happy, and no longer suffering.
He felt happy that she was happy, he though to himself. He had wanted her suffering to end for so long. He knew this was the only way, but the melancholy feeling began pushing on his chest anyway. As Peter looked at her pale face, her limp hair, her skinny body, he knew this was best for May.
A few doctors continued to filter in and out of the room doing god knows what, but Peter stayed. He stared at May, he didn’t know for how long, and relished in the bizarre relief.
After a while, maybe, could have been minutes or even hours, a small women, dressed in impeccable business clothing despite the late hour, walked into the room and put her hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter slowly turned his head toward the woman, and the woman simply rubbed circles on his back, and lightly pushed him out of the room.
He settled into a plastic waiting room chair, and glanced down at his hands. He felt the melancholy feeling he felt earlier begin to push twice as hard on his chest as he thought about May’s lifeless body laying there just a wall away.
Though Peter didn’t think he would ever truly grasp the graveness of the situation, he slowly began to understand the fact that this was permanent. May was dead, and she wasn’t coming back. He didn’t want to believe it, he couldn’t believe it. His aunt was dead. She wasn’t just away, gone on a work trip and would come back in a few days. She was gone for good.
He felt himself start to cry, but not a hard, painful cry. More of a single tear running down his cheek and falling onto his shirt. He was handed a tissue by the woman, and she continued to rub circle’s on his back, still not speaking.
After a while of silently crying, he finally started to take deep breaths and calm himself down, even though he was still inwardly panicking. The woman stopped rubbing his back, and she sat down in a chair next to him.
“Do you have anyone we can call?” She asked. “To come and get you, until we figure out who you will be staying with?”
Peter didn’t answer, and continued staring at his hands. He wanted to call Ned, and stay with him and his family for a while, but he knew they were just as well off as he was, in terms of finance, and couldn’t bare to impose on them like that.
He thought about everyone he knew, MJ, family friends, even Flash, but quickly dismissed them all from his mind. For a few sickening seconds, he truly thought he had no one. But then, he thought about Mr. Stark, and he knew, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it, that he was his only option.
So, after a few seconds of quite contemplation, just to be absolutely sure he has no other option, he slowly nodded his head at the women, still not trusting his voice. Then looked back down as his hands as another tear slowly fell down his face.
“Can we have their phone number and name, to contact them to come and get you?” She asked, in a quiet tone.
He gave Mr. Stark’s information to the women, having memorized his number just in case of an emergency, and although he was sure she was shocked by the name, she hid her surprise well. He was grateful she didn’t ask, as he didn’t think he could explain their relationship right now.
Tony and Peter had gotten much closer since the events with Adrian Toomes. Tony started periodically inviting him to the lab to work on his suit, he helped him with his homework, he even trained with him sometimes. Peter thought it was because Tony felt guilty about taking Peter’s suit, but he didn’t care, he enjoyed their time together.
Peter’s favorite times with Tony were when they worked on things that had nothing to do with Spider-Man, and they did them together simply because they enjoyed each other’s company. Or, at least Peter enjoyed Tony’s company.
Tony had even given Peter his very own bedroom in the compound, where he sometimes spent his weekends. Pepper sometimes joked about their closeness, say they were, “attached at the hip, it seemed.” Peter didn’t think she was being serious, but sometimes when he though about how quickly Tony answered his texts, or how he always picked up the phone before the second ring, and he wasn’t so sure anymore.
Peter sat in the waiting room, picking at his fingernails, trying not to think about his Aunt’s decaying body just a few doors away. Peter wasn’t sure how long he was sitting there, maybe a minute, maybe an hour, he had no idea. His grief seeming to cloud his perception of time, as he daydreamed about his impending doom.
But, then he heard a women’s voice, loudly yelling what at Peter first thought must be a unruly patient, but after hearing the all too familiar voice of his mentor, yelling profanities right back at the women, he immediately knew everything would be, someday, okay.