Chapter Text
There are few constants in the world; few certainties that everyone is guaranteed. A soulmate was one of those things – a constant in the universe that everyone acknowledged, the one truth no one could ignore. For every human that came into the world, there was another already born or soon to be born that existed as their complement, their other half. Every soulmate pair was different, just as every human was different, but how they manifested was always the same.
Every person has a color they cannot see – there is no rhyme or reason for what color is missing. For some, it is a specific color – the exact blue-green shade of the sea before a storm, the silver glint of a knife’s edge, the clear, brilliant blue of a summer’s day. For others, all shades of a color were missing – some could not see the color of the sky or the sea, could not register the deep purplish-red shade of wine or the bright color of fresh apples. Scientists and pseudo-scientists alike had struggled to find some a logical explanation to why someone was missing that particular color – many had theorized that the color reflected the personality of one’s soulmate but that had inevitably led to fights and debates about what exactly the colors were reflecting and whether or not different shades had different or related meanings to others in their spectrum.
All everyone knew for sure was that they went all their lives missing one color until one day they met someone and suddenly their entire world lit up. It took years for people to see their missing color – most people didn’t meet their soulmate until their twenties, others far later in life. Some, the poor few, died before seeing their color at all. It was very rare for anyone to see their color before adulthood – another issue that scientists grappled with – and nearly unheard of for someone to meet their soulmate before high school.
May Parker knew all of these things as well as any other. She herself had never experienced the color red until her late twenties, when she had run into a tall, utterly adorable man in a truly heinous scarlet Christmas sweater while trying to catch the Subway. That adorable man, now her husband Ben, had never experienced the color green until he had glanced back at her to apologize and stopped dead in his tracks as he took in the sight of her emerald sweater dress. He had just turned thirty.
They had been at perfectly normal ages to meet, just slightly older than average. All of May’s family had met at normal ages, as well. Her parents had met in the middle of college; her grandparents had met in their mid-twenties. Ben’s family too, had met at perfectly respectable ages – his parents had met just after college, his little brother Richard had met his soulmate the first week of college. It was something both families took pride in – the regularity of their soulmates meant that no one in their family had never not met their soulmate and they had always been old enough to understand the significance of their color appearing. There had never been a hint - in either of their families – that were would be anyone who broke that tradition.
Never, at least, until tiny Peter Parker, just shy of his fifth birthday, came home from his very first day of kindergarten babbling about how bright the sun was and how pretty the bouquets of small yellow flowers sitting outside the local flower shop were. Things that would have been completely unremarkable for a child to comment on, had Peter not been blind to all shades of yellow since birth.
May had been expecting a busy, memorable day. Peter was a shy, sweet boy who had cried himself hoarse when they had tried to leave him at his first day of preschool just a year ago and May had been more than a little worried about a repeat performance. Peter had come a long way in the last year – at nearly four years old, he had been newly orphaned and wary about being left anywhere without his aunt or uncle, terrified that they would leave him as well. May herself had been overwhelmed - caught up in the grief of losing her brother- and sister-in-law, worried about helping Ben through his grief, and terrified at the prospect of suddenly being in charge of such a fragile life – and she could admit she had struggled just as much as Peter. She, too, however, had come a long way and she felt confident that Peter’s first day of kindergarten would go a lot better than pre-school had.
In order to facilitate as easy of a day as possible, May had woken early to make Peter’s favorite breakfast – French toast on challah bread with fresh strawberries and bananas slices. The fact that it was one of the few things May could make without burning the food was an added bonus. Ben, who was also adamant about making the day as easy and happy for Peter as possible, had managed to get himself temporarily scheduled for the nightshift, ensuring that he could see Peter off to school with May and also be able to pick him up from school and be home until May’s own shift at the hospital ended. So May had happily tasked him with waking their little, definitely-not-a-morning-person, boy while she fixed their breakfast.
Twenty minutes after she had sent her husband into Peter’s room, both her boys rolled out into the kitchen, Peter still looking a little sleep rumpled and wrapped tightly around his uncle’s legs. He was, however, dressed and cleaned and Ben had his tiny Iron-Man backup slung around his own shoulder, already packed for the day. May had been worried about Peter’s attitude, but, although he seemed a little nervous, he perked up at the sight of already cut French toast placed on his favorite plate -the one with tiny little cars zooming across - already lightly drizzled with syrup. It had been a good sign that Peter had dug in immediately, barely remembering to wait until May and Ben had sat down beside him with their own plates. It had been an even better sign that, in between bites, Peter chatted about his latest interest – dinosaurs – and it was only as they were finishing up that he had asked his first, tentative question about whether or not his new school would have books about the creatures.
Ben had rushed to reassure him that yes, he was absolutely certain that the school would have books on dinosaurs – and May prayed silently that they did – and they had finished their breakfast with hardly any of the fanfare that had accompanied the preschool debacle. Peter had helped his uncle put the dishes in the dishwasher and then they were all rushing to get their shoes on to start their commute to the school.
The walk itself was short – just under ten minutes from their apartment – and Peter had lightly chatted the entire way switching between various types of dinosaurs and comments about the world around him in the effortless way that only children could accomplish. The peaceful walk had ended far too quickly for May and a heavy sense of dread had weighed on her as they led Peter up the stairs of his elementary school and towards his classroom. Peter’s kindergarten teacher – a stout, kindly woman a few years younger than May named Miss Vasquez – was perched outside the door, smiling widely at the parents and children coming into her classroom.
May had felt Peter grip her hand just a little more tightly – new people were always touch and go with him – but then Miss Vasquez was crouching down until she was eye level to him and her soft greeting was enough to drain all the tension from his tiny body. It didn’t take her long to have Peter smiling at her and it took far less time than either Ben or May had expected before Peter was slipping into the classroom alongside his teacher – they had been some of the last to arrive - to find his cubby, proud to show his new teacher that he could already read his name.
May and Ben had followed closely, proud but a little apprehensive on whether Peter’s mood would last, but their fears had been unfounded. Peter took to his new classroom like a fish to water - it helped that there was a rather large foam puzzle already set out in the middle of the floor for the children to play with. With just two long hugs and several reassurances that Ben would indeed be ready to pick Peter up at two o’clock sharp – the only indication that Peter was still a little apprehensive despite his excitement – their boy was off.
May and Ben had both stuck around for the last few families to trickle in, chatting with Miss Vasquez and watching Peter, waiting just in case he had a last-minute breakdown. Fortunately, Peter only looked back at them a few times and although several other students around him had started crying, he never did. May and Ben had been able to slip out just as Miss Vasquez called the class to attention with just one final smile at Peter.
Ben had walked her to the subway then, his hand warm in hers as they chatted about Peter and how they thought his day would go. Ben was optimistic – they had been prepping Peter all summer, dutifully taking him to play-dates and daycare to help him socialize with children his own age, but May had been a little more tentative – Peter was the youngest child in his class, his birthday just shy of the cut-off date, and although he was rather smart for his age, he sometimes struggled connecting with other children. She had checked that Ben had the school’s number in his phone no less than three times during their short walk. She couldn’t help it, she had told her husband as he playfully teased her about her concern as they reached the stop; she was naturally a worrier. Ben had reassured her one last time that yes, he had the number saved and he would call her immediately if anything came up before giving her a chaste goodbye kiss.
May’s worries had indeed been unfounded. Although she had ostensibly kept an eye on her phone in between patients – much to the amusement of the head pediatrician and her fellow nurses, no emergency calls or texts from Ben had arrived by the time she took a late lunch, and she finally allowed her worry to fade away. By the time her phone did chime with a text from Ben, she had managed to not think about how Peter was handling school for nearly an hour. That didn’t stop her from pouncing on the text immediately, but she at least wasn’t worried about it.
The message had had a photo of a beaming Peter showing off a shiny silver star on his new folder – he’d gotten it for being “a star student” Ben’s caption had said, and May had felt her heart just about melt at the sight. She would definitely be getting that picture printed to add to Peter’s scrapbook. And to have pinned at her workplace. And another for Ben to keep at his own job. Evidence that Peter had gotten successfully through his first day of ‘big-kid school’, as Ben had described it to their dubious four-year old at the beginning of summer, and nothing could destroy the bubble of happiness that had enveloped May.
Nothing, perhaps, but an impromptu call from Ben just ten minutes after his text. Except for emergencies, Ben never called her outside her lunch hour and she never called him. Just the sight of Ben’s contact image flashing across her phone was enough to fill May with unease all over again and she had hastily excused herself to answer the call. Nothing was wrong, Ben had said the moment she’d answered, which hadn’t reassured her much at all. Nothing was wrong, he had continued, but was it possible for her to come home early? There had been a strange tone in Ben’s voice that she couldn’t quite recognize – she had expected him to sound worried or maybe angry but he sounded more shocked than either of those options. Something was up with Peter – he wouldn’t say what over the phone – and he really thought it couldn’t wait until May’s shift was over.
May hadn’t even hesitated. She’d told him she would be home as soon as possible, hung up and had immediately gathered her things before apologizing to the other pediatric nurse on duty – something had happened with Peter and she needed to leave immediately, she had said – and rushing out of the door with hastily made promises that she would cover an extra weekend shift to make up for her leaving. It had taken her half the usual time to make it onto the next train home and she had spent the entire ride agonizing over what could have possibly happened between Peter and Ben leaving the school and getting home. Had they been heckled by the asshole teenager who lived two floors down from and delighted in reminding Peter that May and Ben weren’t his parents? Had a large dog barked at Peter, who was frightened to death of any animal larger than him?
Ben had said nothing was wrong but he had also told her that before telling her Peter had taken a nasty fall off the monkey bars at the park and needed stitches just a month ago. He often tried to assure her things weren’t too bad, even when they weren’t particularly great. She had no idea what she was going to be walking into as she got off at her stop and bustled her way out of the station and onto the street. She had tried to force down her panic as she rushed to her apartment building and had succeeded in being nearly calm by the time she had opened her door and slipped into the living room.
Peter and Ben were sitting on the couch and May felt her heart lurch at the sight of her nephew – there was no blood or bandages that she could see and Peter was grinning widely at something Ben was showing him on his cellphone. So distracted, he hadn’t even looked up as May came in. Ben, however, did and he beckoned her closer without saying anything. May willingly approached the couch, trying hard not to show her worry. She opened her mouth to ask Ben what the hell was going on, but he spoke before she could, his voice gentle and reassuring as he nudged Peter to look up from the phone.
“Hey Peter, want to show your aunt what you showed me?” There was that odd tone in his voice again as he looked down at Peter. May wanted to interrupt – wanted to demand that Ben tell her what the hell had happened with Peter – but all those thoughts immediately fled when Peter proudly turned the phone so that she could see that it was open to a picture of sunflowers, and declared that he had learned a new color and wasn’t that just the coolest thing Aunt May? Peter had asked her, grinning broadly. He continued talking as May stared disbelievingly at the screen – Uncle Ben said it was called ‘yellow’, it was definitely his favorite now because it was so much prettier than blue was, he had no idea the sun was so cheerful looking or that flowers could be so bright, Uncle Ben had bought some at the little store on the corner just for Peter and they had put them in her favorite vase – all these things and more, he said while May continued to stare at the bright sunflower spread across her husband’s phone.
May understood how soulmates worked just as much as everybody else. She understood that every single person was born without the ability to see a specific color until they met their soulmate. She understood that, at some point, her nephew was supposed to meet that one person who brightened up his entire world. What she didn’t understand was how, when everyone knew that less than fifty percent of the population met their soulmates before their twenties and less than ten percent met their soulmate before high school, her four-year-old was suddenly able to see a brand-new color.
Her four-year-old who, although he had asked about his color before, wasn’t old enough to understand the significance of it. Her four-year-old who she hadn’t even truly discussed soulmates with because she was supposed to have years before it became an issue. Most parents gave a detailed discussion of soulmates to their children as part of the ‘talk’ but Peter wasn’t old enough for the ‘talk’ and he wasn’t old enough for a soulmate. It was impossible. He still had baby fat. He couldn’t have a soulmate. He was a baby.
And yet, there was her baby sitting on the couch alongside her husband, the top of his head not quite reaching his uncle’s shoulder and his feet dangling a few inches from the floor, grinning brightly as he swiped through a slide show of yellow pictures with a tiny finger. There was not a single case, at least that May knew of, of a person seeing their color before their soulmate. No way the universe would ever make such a grievous mistake. Peter, on his first day of kindergarten, had met his soulmate. Peter who, at least according to the small itinerary Miss Vasquez had sent to all the parents in their welcome packets, had only been with his own class today. The school preferred it that way as many small children got overwhelmed in overly large groups and wouldn’t introduce all the kindergarten classes until the end of the week. That meant Peter’s soulmate must have been in his class.
Peter’s class had twenty children in it. That meant there were nineteen boys and girls, aged four to six, who were all equally likely to be Peter’s soulmate. That meant there was another set of parents in their neighborhood currently freaking out that their child had met their soulmate today. Somewhere close by, her nephew’s soulmate was probably babbling excitedly about their new color and utterly terrifying their parents.
Somewhere close by, her nephew’s soulmate was experiencing their color for the first time. Because they had met Peter. Somewhere close by, one of the most important people in Peter’s life was having one of the most incredible experiences of their life. And they weren’t even old enough to cross the street without holding their parent’s hand. Somewhere close by, was her nephew’s soulmate – his future partner, maybe spouse, the person he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.
Somewhere close by was the little child who was destined to be the other half of Peter’s soul. And May had no idea who it was.
For a brief moment, May wondered what color that other child was seeing. What color brought to life for them. If those pseudo-scientists who claimed that the color represented something about the person’s soul were even a quarter right, May knew the other child was seeing something bright. Peter brought brightness into everyone’s world, after all.
“Aunt May?” It was Peter’s soft, high voice that brought May back from her thoughts. He was staring up at her, wide brown eyes filled with mild confusion. He must have been speaking to her – had probably not stopped talking about all the yellow things he had seen until he’d noticed she hadn’t been paying attention. “Is something wrong?” He asked her, the gentle concern in his voice obvious. May fixed a smile on her face and bent down to press a kiss onto his forehead.
“Of course not, sweetheart,” she told him. It was the truth, too, she was surprised to realize. Peter’s soulmate was a shock, of course; he was still so very young. But soulmates were certainly not a bad thing – Ben was definitely one of the best things to have ever happened to May, followed closely by Peter despite the tragedy that brought him into her life. Whoever this other child was, they would be one of the most important people in her nephew’s life. Even if both were too young to realize that. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.
She gave Peter another soft kiss, this time on the top of his brown curls, and glanced up at her husband. Ben was smiling slightly, that familiar uptick of the left-hand corner of his mouth that he always wore when he was amused about something and trying to hide it. Of course Ben would find the whole situation just a bit funny – May could see a bit of humor in it now too, since the shock had worn off some. But she could also see the glint in his eye that always shone when he was planning and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was, in that moment as they made eye contact over Peter’s head.
Their darling nephew had 20 classmates. One of them was his soulmate. And neither of the Parker adults would rest until they found out who it was. They were going to be their future nephew- or niece-in-law. It would be irresponsible of them, after all, to not reach out and find this other child and their family. It shouldn’t be terribly hard, either, considering the unusualness of the situation. They might have the name of Peter’s soulmate before it was time for his bath, if they went about it right.
May moved to sit next to Peter before pulling the boy into her lap. He went willingly enough – he loved cuddling generally and had often declared his aunt’s cuddles to be the “best” much to the ire of his uncle – and May had her lap filled with a little boy beaming at every new yellow picture he came across. “Aunt May, look!” he held up the screen so she could see that he was looking at a picture of one of his favorite cartoons. “I didn’t know Sponge-Bob was that pretty!” he prattled delightedly. He was still so little that his r’s often rolled out softly, sounding more like w’s than anything else and May’s heart clenched just a little bit. Her little boy, who still pronounced his letters with a child’s accent, had a soulmate.
“He’s very pretty.” May acknowledged and Peter briefly shone his bright smile on her before turning to acknowledge Ben, who had claimed Peter’s previous spot so that he was next to his wife and nephew, close enough that their knees touched.
“Uncle Ben, look!” Peter shoved the screen to his uncle who dutifully looked at the cellphone screen and agreed that Sponge-Bob was very pretty indeed, his lips tugging into an amused grin as Peter nodded his agreement and flicked his finger to a new picture. May glanced at Ben briefly – he seemed content to let her take the lead in dealing with the whole situation – before reaching out and gently covering the screen of the phone in Peter’s hand. Peter turned his gaze back to her, a hint of a pout on his lips.
“I haven’t seen you all day!” May started, knowing it was best to couch her words in soft teasing. She wanted to ask a million questions to Peter about how he had discovered his new color and what children he had spoken to but she also knew if she was too adamant, Peter might shy away, thinking he was in trouble. “How was your very first day of big-kid school?” she asked, moving one hand to Peter’s waist to give him a light tickle. Immediately his pout disappeared as he broke out into giggles and wriggled away from his aunt’s fingers.
“It was fun!” He told her, his words muddled slightly by his giggles. “Miss Vasquez is so nice! She let us finish the big puzzle on the floor after you left and then we all sat on it and told each other our names and our favoritest food!” May nodded along, forcing herself not to jump in at the mention of introductions. Peter was fairly bad at remembering names, even for a child, but surely there had been something about his soulmate that would have drawn his attention. He would surely mention it on his own, though, so May decided to go with the easier questions.
“What did you say was your favorite-est?” She asked, tickling him slightly again as she emphasized the -est part – she and Ben didn’t often correct Peter’s grammar mistakes when he was telling stories, knowing it nearly always derailed his thoughts, but she couldn’t help but repeat it back to the boy, knowing it made him giggle to hear his adults speak like he did.
“Your French toast!” He beamed at her, “and potatoes!” he added and May laughed. Peter loved her French toast but the easiest way to his heart was a potato in any form.
“I told him he made excellent choices,” Ben added from his side, making both Peter and May turn to him. “Less chance of you messing up a potato.” His smile was cheeky as May scoffed exaggeratedly before pulling Peter up close to her face.
“Your uncle’s so mean to me, Petey.” She mock-whispered to the still-giggling boy. “What should we do?” She added.
“Make him cook dinner!” Peter whispered loudly back, wrapping one arm around May’s neck as he grinned at his uncle. For all the teasing Ben did about May’s cooking, they all knew Ben’s was far worse. He had once set off the fire alarm trying to boil water for boxed macaroni and cheese, a feat that was a mystery to this day as there had been no food left on the burner or the bottom of the pot that could have created enough smoke to set off the alarm.
“That sounds like a punishment for us.” May whispered back, making eye contact with Ben over Peter’s head. He just grinned back. “We’ll have to think of a punishment later. What else did Miss Vasquez have you do, today?” She asked, her voice rising back to a normal volume as Peter settled back down onto her lap.
“We went over all the rules of the class,” Peter responded, reaching out to his aunt’s fingers as he spoke. May didn’t know why, but Peter had a fascination with playing with her rings and she didn’t bother stopping him as he gently ran his fingers over the small diamond on her engagement ring. “Ms. Vasquez has a 3-chance system,” Peter began to explain, “she’s got this big board on the wall that has all our names on them – she let us decorate them before we tacked them on the wall so mine has dinosaurs all over it,” Peter looked up at May then, grinning widely and May couldn’t help but smile back.
“How does the board work?” she prodded before Peter could get distracted telling her about his dinosaurs. Undoubtedly, he had named each one he had drawn and had a story for them all. She would love to hear about it, later, but for now she wanted to keep him on topic in the hopes that he would start talking about the other students.
“The board has three sections – one has a happy smiley-face, one has a frowny face, and one has a crying face,” he explained, adopting the no-nonsense tone he always used when he was talking about something he thought important. “Everyone starts with their name in the happy-face section, but if you’re bad, it gets moved to the frowny face section and if you’re really, really bad you get put in the crying face section. That means Ms. Vasquez has to send a note home.” Peter’s little face scrunched up in a frown at the thought, as though he was thinking about how much trouble someone would have to be to get in the crying face section.
“That’s pretty serious,” May told him and he nodded solemnly.
“I promise I won’t ever get a note sent home, Aunt May,” He told her in his serious voice and May couldn’t help but press a kiss to his forehead.
“I’m sure you won’t sweetheart,” She meant it too. Asides from the crying fits he threw at being left by his aunt and uncle and the occasional argument with another child, Peter had been remarkably well behaved at preschool and May didn’t doubt that he would continue being on his best behavior at his new school. “Did you do anything else?” Peter nodded.
“We also went over the chore chart. Everyone has a job they are supposed to do every week. This week, I’m helping make sure all the tables are wiped off after we do our crafts. Michelle and Liz help too.” May’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of two of Peter’s classmates and she saw Ben perk up slightly from the corner of her eye. Obviously, Peter hadn’t shared this story with his uncle yet and both adults were excited at the possibility of it being that easy to find out Peter’s soulmate.
“Michelle and Liz?” May asked, careful to keep her voice casual. “They’re your classmates?” Peter nodded. “Are they –“ May paused for a moment. She didn’t exactly know how to phrase her questions. Asking Peter pointblank if he saw his color after meeting the two girls probably wouldn’t work and she didn’t know how else she could get the answer she wanted. “nice?” she settled on eventually and Peter nodded again.
“Yeah! Liz is really nice – she let me play house with her and the other girls at recess, even when Eugene said boys couldn’t play with girls,” May had to stamp down her desire to ask who Eugene was but made a mental note to keep track of the boy’s name. He sounded like he might be trouble. “Michelle is really quiet but she let me look at the picture book she’d brought from home and she really likes dinosaurs too!” Peter continued, oblivious to the look shared between May and Ben. Both girls sounded fairly promising but Peter often talked about new people, particularly children who shared his interests, in the exact same way.
Generally, when people met their soulmate they knew, even if they hadn’t seen their color right away. They knew the same way one knew the face of an old friend, even after years apart. Peter didn’t seem to have had that reaction to either girl but that could have been because of his age – there were no stories about how children reacted to meeting their soulmates and it was possible that Peter would experience something entirely different. It was definitely worth making a note of the girls’ names, in any case. May would check the class list included in the school’s welcome packet for last names later.
“Are Michelle and Liz your friends?” The question came from Ben and Peter had to twist in May’s lap to see his uncle before he nodded enthusiastically.
“Yeah! Liz is my recess-friend and Michelle is my in-class friend. There’s also Betty – she’s my naptime friend because we laid down next to each other and our pillows were the same color,” Ben and May both nodded, well-versed in the logic of small children. May added Betty’s name to her list as Peter continued. “Then there’s Abe – we’re lunch friends because we both had jelly sandwiches for lunch and he shared his cookie with me and I shared my fruit snacks with him.”
“That’s a lot of new friends, Petey,” May stated, making sure to add Abe to her list as well. Peter smiled brightly.
“That’s ‘cause everyone is so nice! Except Eugene, he’s kinda mean.” Peter’s face bunched up in displeasure momentarily and May made another note to talk to Ms. Vasquez about Eugene. He was definitely sounding like a problem “But Ned is my best friend!” Peter added, his face relaxing once more as he moved on. May and Ben shared another look over Peter’s head. “Best” friend certainly sounded the most promising.
“What makes Ned your “best” friend?” Ben asked, his voice carefully casual.
“We’re cubby neighbors and we sit at the same table because our last names are close together. And he really, really likes dinosaurs too! He brought a dinosaur coloring book with him and he let me have a page. I’m gonna color it and give it to him tomorrow!” Peter jumped down from May’s lap as he finished speaking and ran from the room with a quick “Be right back!” Undoubtedly, he was going to get the coloring page from his backpack to show both his aunt and uncle. Possibly his crayons too, so he could begin coloring it, which meant May and Ben probably had a few minutes to talk until he would be back.
“Did you get all that?” Ben asked her wryly the moment Peter’s little head had disappeared down the hallway. May swatted him lightly before responding.
“Liz, Michelle, Betty, Abe, and Ned. Definitely not Eugene.” She answered, rattling off all the names Peter had thrown at them. “Five possible soulmates.” She felt a little giddy and overwhelmed at the same time. Five seemed simultaneously a tiny number and a massive one. Five children, one of them destined to be her future child-in-law. She could hardly believe it.
“This is insane. You know this is insane, right?” Ben asked and May let out a small giggle at the slight incredulity . “Our Peter with a soulmate.”
“You knew it was bound to happen,” May pointed out, gently knocking her knee into her husband’s. “Everyone does have one.” It was easier, in a way, to mock Ben a little for his surprise than to voice her own. Already she was weighing what Peter had said about his new friends, trying to gauge which ones were most likely to be the one. She didn’t really want to contact all the other parents on her list and make herself sound crazy to them. She wanted to be as sure as possible.
“But he’s a baby. Our baby.” Ben hadn’t had the luxury to utterly freak out like May had, being the adult to pick up Peter. It was only fair that he had it now.
“And he’s going to fall in love with someone else’s. There’s some other little kid who saw their color today. There’s another parent out there right now who’s going through the same thing.” May pointed out. Ben made a face.
“I hate other parents.” May swatted him again. Ben, although perfectly friendly, wasn’t the most social person at first meeting and that combined with his absolute zero tolerance of other people telling them what they were doing wrong with Peter ensured that he was generally unpopular among almost all the parents they had met. It was an entirely mutual feeling.
“You’re going to have to deal with them anyway. For Peter.” May would have said more but there was the ever-present sound of little feet tapping against the floor and then Peter was running back into the room, excitedly brandishing his coloring page and a giant box of crayons.
“You’d know I’d do anything for him.” Ben muttered towards her before easily scooping up Peter once he was in reach, prompting the four-year old to let out a peal of giggles. May couldn’t help but grin widely at the sight. Her grin only grew when Peter settled in his uncle’s lap, propped his coloring page on top of his knee and offered her his box of crayons.
They had work to do, of course, to figure out who Peter’s soulmate was. But she supposed that all could wait – she had a dinosaur to help color, after all. And if her heart swelled at the sight of Peter smiling exuberantly as she selected the brightest, warmest yellow in the whole box, its tip still pristine, that was just incentive for figuring it all out later.
She could hardly wait to find out what kind of child Peter's soulmate was. Or what color her nephew brought into another's world. But Peter still came first and she had a dinosaur's butt to color for him. In the brightest yellow possible.