Chapter Text
I've been hit with a sudden will to once again continue this story and make improvements to it. (Because damn did I suck looking back on it, I mean the potential was there but... anyways!)
Enjoy!
Chapter 1
A small boy could be seen groggily waking up from the dirty ground while aching and whimpering in pain.
They buried their face further into the ground, getting mud onto their face, and pushed themselves up.
He has messy untamable hair, warm hazel eyes, and a face that most people would find adorable.
His clothing was rather plain and cheap-looking, and a couple of sizes too big for a boy his age.
But we’re not here to talk about clothes, are we?
"Ow, not the stubbing your foot type ow, but the getting rammed over by truck type ow." The boy with messy brown hair thought to himself.
Weakly getting up from the muddy ground while holding their head in pain.
"Where's my glasses? Everything's blurry. And what the heck hit me!?" He felt around the ground trying to find his glasses.
Unfortunately, he only found mud, pieces of rock, more mud, and a tree.
He could barely see the sun slowly starting to set in the distance and blurry figures of people starting to go back home.
He should start getting home as well.
His mother would be worried sick if he came home so late.
"Peter! My goodness, Peter, what have I told you about climbing trees!?"
A worried and concerned voice of a woman could be heard in the distance.
Some kid must've been doing something stupid and making their parents worried.
"Calm down, May, I'm sure the boy is perfectly fine, he's done this hundreds of times before." A calming deep voice was busy calming the woman down, probably the woman's husband if he had to guess.
He ignored them and continued to look for his glasses.
He could never understand why kids would keep doing something their parents told them not to do, especially when it could hurt them.
He was never like that when he was a kid, his mom raised him better than that.
Then again, he did have to mature faster than others.
While contemplating why children were so eager to give their parents heart attacks, he felt something that was not a rock or mud.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t his glasses either.
"Hm? What's this?" He picked up something that felt like paper off the ground and held it closer to their face, "Whoah! A hundred dollars! It must be my lucky day~! What poor schmuck lost this?"
Although not what he was looking for, he wasn't going to pass up a hundred dollars, so he put the money in his pocket for later use.
"Now if only I can find my glasses, the I’ll be golden."
So focused on finding his glasses, he didn't hear the footsteps coming closer to him.
Like, at all.
Not until he felt giant hands picking him up by the armpits did he notice that he wasn't alone.
His body tensed up in fear.
Ready to fight off tooth and nail at his would-be kidnapper, but stopped when the same calming voice from before started to fret over him.
His body immediately stopped tensing and started to relax against his will.
"Peter, are you alright? You haven't responded to May calling you, and you're making her worried." He could hear the man's worry in his voice while talking to him.
Before he could respond and tell the giant of a man he got the wrong person, the man continued fretting over him.
"And where are your glasses? Did they fall off?"
The man put him down gently and went to search around for glasses.
Well... that was strange.
He turned around and started to walk away from the weird situation he got himself in.
While he did have an extra pair at home, it was still a waste of perfectly good glasses, but if it meant he could get out of this weird situation, then he would forget all about the glasses and head home.
Putting this all behind him.
He just got paid today, and he wanted to spend the evening doing something special for his family.
Before he could even take a step, however.
He felt another warm pair of hands grabbing his shoulders and turning him around.
Twice in one day… what was his luck!?
Face to face with a woman he had never seen before in his life, probably because of his lack of glasses, yet the feeling of warmth and familiarity was somehow there.
This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.
"Peter, don't ever do that again! You nearly gave me a heart attack when you fell off that tree! I don't want you to do that ever again, you hear me, young man!?"
His body instinctively nodded at her words, and before he realized what was happening, his mouth started to speak on its own.
"I'm sorry, Aunt May, I promise not to do it again." He felt himself being taken back from his own voice.
Every word that came out from his mouth sounded childish and way too cute to be coming from a grown ass man.
It was as if a small, adorable child was trying to speak like an adult.
And last, he checked he was a 16-year-old adult.
What the hell was happening!?
Wait, why was she bigger than him? Not in the wide sort of way, but in the height sort of way.
He was 5'9 for God's sake and unless the woman was somehow taller than nine feet, which is ridiculous, then the only explanation is that somehow, he got smaller!
While deep in thought, his 'Aunt May' was wiping the mud off his face.
'Peter' shook away from his fanatic thoughts and looked up at her face; he could see the wrinkles and bits of grey forming between her blond hair.
From what he could guess was likely stress because she still seemed to be in her early forties.
He was suddenly brought out of his thoughts when he felt cold plastic on his face, and when his vision suddenly became clear.
"I've found your glasses, make sure not to lose them again, that's your only one."
The man from before suddenly spoke from above him.
He felt his hair get ruffled as he looked up to his... Uncle Ben?
"Come on, sport, I think we've had enough of the outdoors."
At that point, he was just going with the flow and allowed his body to go into autopilot.
He didn't notice how he was easily picked up by his aunt or how they buckled him into a kiddy chair.
Too lost in his thoughts to focus on anything else at the moment.
Aunt May, Uncle Ben... and they called him Peter?
…
…
…
Oh shi-
After a few minutes of driving, they arrived at a small, cozy-looking house.
Peter felt the car stop and looked out the window to see a familiar yet unfamiliar house.
Which was a weird feeling, seeing a house that felt like home, yet he had never seen it in his life.
He watched as his aunt and uncle opened the doors of the car and headed towards the house, making small talk along the way.
He felt dizzy and confused, his emotions were running rampant, making him feel sick.
Thousands of questions were running rampant through his head.
A few of them being, how did this happen? How is he here? What about his family!? What the fuck is happening!?
His body moved on its own, getting out of the car and heading towards home without any direction from him.
He entered the house feeling warmth only home can bring enter his body, yet this wasn't his home, and this wasn't his family.
The inside of the house was just as cozy-looking as the outside.
It was homey, small but not overly so, and filled with pictures all along the walls.
Pictures of his aunt and uncle, and pictures of him.
It made him feel nauseated.
He could feel the love brewing within him whenever he looked at his aunt and uncle.
Who weren't his.
He could also remember the memories he spent with them in the photos.
Memories that also weren't his.
Everything was spinning and he wanted it to stop, he wanted everything to fucking stop!
He ignored the tussle of his hair and the worried looks his aunt gave him.
He needed to be alone.
He headed towards his room, ignoring his name being called, where he finally felt the safety of being alone, until he saw the disaster that it was.
The room was a mess, filled with toys and science books littered everywhere around the room.
He could see a pile of trash slowly being built up under the bed and pieces of clothing all around the floor.
The only thing that seemed remotely clean was his bed, and even then, it barely qualified as clean.
What stood out from his messy room was the poster of Tony Stark with a signature on it, which was held in a display case.
It made him feel a sense of admiration.
Admiration that wasn’t fucking his!!!!
This room may feel as if it was his room, but it wasn’t.
He would never have allowed his room to become messy or have his clothes on the floor.
His mother drilled into his very soul that being lazy and not cleaning up the messes you made is what scumbags do and he refused to be even associated with fucking scumbags!
He remembered fondly the words his mother would always say to him when he helped his mother with cleaning up the house.
She would always say, "In order to live a happy and fulfilled life, you need to be clean and honest in life," and he always listened and followed his mother's words.
Thinking of his mother made the last bit of his willpower, which was barely holding back his raging emotions, break.
Everything came crashing down.
Hot tears streamed down from his eyes.
His heart ached in pain, and his legs became weak; he fell to the ground onto his hands and knees.
He silently cried in his room that wasn’t his.
Feeling lost, afraid, and alone.
He hugged his legs to his chest and curled onto himself.
He prayed that it was nothing but a bad dream…
"Are you sure he's going to be alright, Ben? He just learned about his parents' death a few hours ago, I'm not sure if he's going to be alright on his own."
May asked with worry.
Peter had been silent throughout the entire day, and it was only after he fell off a tree that he finally spoke to her.
He was usually so energetic and curious about everything around him, but ever since he was told about his parents' death, he became painfully quiet.
They were currently sitting on the living room couch watching the news on the TV about weather conditions.
Ben was busy reading the Bugle about rising crime rates and the rise of higher taxes.
He set the newspaper down and focused his attention on his wife.
While Ben agreed with her concerns, he also knew that Peter needed time on his own to handle the news of his parents' death and come to terms with it.
After all, he and his brother Richard also had to deal with their parents' deaths around Peter's age.
Thinking about his brother made his already stormy emotions worse.
…dammit Richard.
"The boy just needs some time alone. May, just give him a few days and I'm sure he'll be back to his old self in a matter of time." Ben said, trying to ease her concerns.
Unfortunately, it did nothing to calm her down as May frowned even more before getting up from the couch and heading up the stairs to check on her nephew.
Ben sighed and followed after her; he was also worried about his nephew.
They arrived at the front of Peter's room, Ben and May shared a look with each other before he stepped up and lightly knocked on the door.
”Peter?”
No response.
They knocked again.
”Sweetie, is everything alright?”
Still no response.
Fear seized Ben and May's hearts as they feared the worst.
Ben knocked one more time, more frantic this time.
”Peter!?
Still no response.
Having enough, May pushed Ben to the side and opened the door into their nephew's room in a hurry.
She stopped dead in her tracks as she spotted her nephew, curled up on the ground with tear marks on his face.
Her heart ached seeing her nephew like this, but she knew she could do nothing but be there for him and help him through his parents' death.
She slowly bent down, picked him up into her arms, and carried him to his bed, where she gently placed him down.
May wiped away the tears from his face and tucked him into bed.
Ben was by her side, no words needed to be said between them as they stared down at their nephew in sadness.
…
…
…
He felt a hand gently shake his shoulder, warm sunlight glowing on his face like a spotlight ushering him into the day.
Was it time for school already?
Why hadn’t his alarm gone off?
Did he sleep through it?
Still half-trapped in a fog of dreams, the boy groaned and stretched, rubbing his eyes.
His muscles felt heavy, and his thoughts even heavier.
Must be Mom waking him up, like always, after he slept through the alarm again.
He’d had the strangest dream last night.
Stranger than most, and he’d had some weird ones, mind you.
But this one… it lingered.
It felt real. Too real.
The sights, the sounds, the emotions—all of them raw and vivid.
Another shake stirred him again. He groaned louder, dragging himself upright.
“Am awaeke,” he slurred, voice still thick with sleep. “Naw nweed to shwake wike a can of weep crwem.”
A weak joke. He snorted at his own terrible delivery.
Why did he sound so weird?
Still tired, maybe. His head was in a fog.
He blinked himself into clarity.
Familiar ceiling.
Familiar room.
He turned his head, expecting to see his mom standing over him.
But it wasn’t her.
A sharp jolt of panic shot through him, and he jerked back—
CRACK!
His head slammed into the bedpost.
“Ow!” he hissed, clutching his skull.
“Peter!” a voice gasped. “Are you okay?! Why on Earth would you do that?”
May.
Not his mom.
It was Aunt May, hovering over him with a panicked look, already checking the growing bump on his forehead.
And just like that, the fog cleared.
This wasn’t a dream.
None of it was.
He was Peter Parker now.
A.K.A. fucking Spider-Man.
If anyone else were in his shoes, they’d be doing backflips, or having a meltdown over the sheer insanity of living in a world where villains, aliens, and world-ending events were Tuesday-level problems.
But him?
All he could think about was his family.
His real family.
His mother.
His old life.
His past.
Gone.
A tight knot of panic coiled in his chest, his thoughts spiraling.
His eyes burned.
His throat tightened.
He never used to cry like this.
He never used to feel like this.
Not since he was a—
Child.
God.
He really was a child again.
Tears pricked at his eyes before he could stop them, and his lip trembled.
Warm hands cupped his face.
“It’s alright, sweetheart,” May said softly, gently wiping his tears with her thumbs. “I-I'm sorry I can't make things better, but just know your Uncle and I will always be here for you. You hear me?”
Her voice was gentle but steady. Comforting.
And it reminded him so much of his mother.
If she were here, she’d probably cross her arms and say,
“Son, why are you in your room crying when you could be out there giving your all to being happy?”
She was always like that, so full of life and joy even in the worst moments of life.
And she was right.
If he let this break him, then sixteen years of his life would mean nothing.
All his struggles.
All his triumphs.
The moments that made him him.
He conquered worse before.
This was just another mountain to climb.
One way or another, he will find his way back.
No matter how long it takes.
Peter sniffled, then gave May a bright, if still a little shaky, smile.
“Thanks, Auntie,” he said, voice steadier now. “I really appreciate it.”
Alright, that had to go, he refused to sound like a baby!
Her eyes softened, and she returned the smile.
Then she glanced at her phone.
“It's almost seven already,” she said. “Are you sure you want to go to school today? We can call in if you’re not feeling up to it.”
Oh, he wanted to stay home. So, so badly.
But he could almost hear his mom’s voice again.
“School may be boring, or in your words 'hell on earth', but it’s a gift few ever receive. Don't waste it.”
He sighed and nodded with great reluctance.
May laughed softly at the tortured look on his face.
“Alright then. I’ll get breakfast started, the bus’ll be here soon!” She paused at the doorway. “Don’t forget to wash your face properly, young man!”
“I will, Auntie,” Peter called after her, already dragging himself out of bed.
The anxiety crept in again at the thought of starting school.
New faces.
New world.
New life.
But he’d been the new kid before, even if this was a whole other ballpark.
He could handle it.
Once dressed, he headed downstairs, the scent of warm wheat cakes filling the kitchen.
“Morning, sport,” Uncle Ben greeted with a raised brow as Peter demolished breakfast like a starved wolf.
May frowned as she poured apple juice. “Peter, slow down. You’re going to choke.”
Ben chuckled, patting his nephew's head affectionately. “Kid’s got places to be.”
Peter smiled, his mouth full.
This felt… normal, weirdly.
Until Ben checked the wall clock.
“7:04. Bus’ll be here any second.”
Peter blinked. “Cwap!”
"Language!"
He shoved the last bite in his mouth, cleaned up in record time, and grabbed his Stark Industries backpack.
“Bye, Auntie! Bye Uncle Ben!” he shouted as he dashed for the door.
“Have a good day!” they called out together.
And just like that, Peter Parker stepped out into a brand new world.
A new life.
...at least until he found his way home.