Work Text:
Peter B. Parker was and had been many things.
A hero. A failure. A son. A nephew. A guy who'd strongly resembled a homeless man for a certain period.
But, in his thirty-eight years of living, he'd never been a father.
He supposed it showed.
Holding May for the first time was like an epiphany, though. A realization that he'd changed and grown. To look down at her and her squishy little fingers and hands was like looking upon the face of forgiveness itself; forgiveness which was letting Peter know that he was alright. Things were gonna be okay.
And MJ smiled at Peter and asked, "What do you think?"
"She's perfect," was all he knew to say, too caught up in the moment. Maybe he was crying. Just a little. "She looks just like you."
It was an extremely obvious statement. Truthfully, though, Peter was still preoccupied.
May wiggled in his arms, kicking her tiny legs around. She was looking up at him with wide blue eyes, taking in his face in a similar manner to how he was trying to memorize hers -- and Peter was very aware that he didn't look the best. He'd been stressed out for the past couple of days. His eyebags were more pronounced than usual, as well as the annoying sets of wrinkles that seemed hell-bent on making their little tracks around his face.
He could've made a smart comment aloud. But, for once in his life, Peter was at a complete loss for words. There was a feeling welling up in his chest cavity; a feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it was all-consuming in the best way possible.
He watched through damp eyes as May grabbed little fistfuls of his shirt.
"C'mere," MJ had said, scooting over on the hospital bed. She patted the space she'd made, just enough for him. "Sit."
They had stayed that way for a while -- Peter holding their daughter, MJ leaning on his side. Her presence was warm, but firm.
"What do you think?" His voice trembled, even just a little. He didn't know what made him ask the question, because of the obvious answer, but he did anyway. Feeling especially vulnerable, he held May like she was the most precious thing in the world.
MJ's lips were curled up in another smile when she leaned up to press a kiss to Peter's stubbly lower cheek.
"The same as you," she'd replied. "I wouldn't change a thing."
--
Being back home was a welcome change from the stressful white hallways of the hospital.
Of course, they already had all the stuff ready for May. Crib? Yup. Bottles? Yup. Tasteful stuffed animals that MJ had face-palmed upon seeing? You got it.
The weeks after May's sudden appearance in their lives went by fast, actually. But they were some pretty interesting weeks, which involved juggling Peter's still-present duty as the masked protector of New York City, going on hurried errands, re-learning how to cook proper meals again, and spending time with his family -- the latter of which he devoted most of his time to since MJ was abiding closely to the 5-5-5 rule.
Sometimes, Peter combined two tasks into one when it was convenient. Which MJ scolded him for, sometimes --
"You know they won't bother making you pay the full price if you're wearing the mask," she called out half-heartedly, as May played with strands of hair that matched hers pretty much exactly. "If you weren't Spider-Man, you'd be in jail for theft right now."
"There wasn't anywhere to change! And, plus, the grocery store was en route to -- "
All it took was a stern look from her, and he changed his course. " -- Okay, fine, won't happen again. Promise."
Getting used to domesticity again was kinda like getting in a pool; you'd been in there before, but it was still uncomfortable and strange before you got the hang of things. However, even before Peter got accustomed to everything, he couldn't deny that waking up near the people he loved most gave him crystal-clear clarity.
Sunny days were sunnier, cloudy days seemed brighter, and rainy days -- well, they were still rainy, and that didn't go well with the suit, but that meant when Peter got home, he could spend cozy time with his family.
Even if the cartoons that May loved were annoyingly repetitive.
--
The morning MJ was set to return to work from maternity leave, a problem arose.
"Peter, our daughter's on the ceiling."
He followed MJ's mildly unsurprised gaze up to where May was giggling happily, bare feet sticking solidly to the plaster. She looked down at them, still smiling in that cute gap-toothed way of hers, and then proceeded to crawl clumsily for a couple of feet before stopping to giggle some more.
"... Well, would you look at that? So she is," he murmured, scratching the back of his neck. "I … really should've expected this."
"Oh, really?" Replied MJ, in a near-deadpan. But Peter could hear the smirk in her voice.
"Gimme a sec to remedy this situation," he mumbled.
A minute later, May was back on solid ground again. She didn't seem too perturbed by her sudden change of location, and gladly accepted the rubber car keys that she was handed. Of course, she immediately started chewing on them.
"Does this mean that the crib is obsolete?"
Peter sighed. "Only if she starts sleep-walking."
"Glad to hear it." MJ affixed him with a look. "Does this, uh, new development mean I have to stay -- "
"No, no!" He interrupted, semi-frantic. "It's fine, it's fine! I've got it covered. Like I said yesterday, I'll watch her until you get back." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "You think just 'cause she inherited my fancy spider powers, she needs all hands on deck?"
A beat.
"Yeah, that's exactly what I meant." She moved closer into his space and reached up to brush a dust bunny off his tee shirt. Probably accumulated from his very daring save earlier. "It wouldn't be much of a bother to push back my return for a day or two, you know."
Peter deflated. "C'mon, honey, you can trust me. If anyone can handle a child who can stick to ceilings, it's me."
She looked at him for a moment, before cracking a smile.
"You're too old for sad puppy-dog eyes."
They vanished in an instant. "Is that a yes?"
"It's an 'if I come back home to find any furniture broken, you're in for it, buddy.'" There was no real venom behind her words, but Peter detected that glint in her eye that showed she was dead serious beneath the snark.
"Accidents happen, sweetheart," he said, a little meekly.
"I'm sure they will."
She kissed him, which was nice, but then she had to leave, which was not so nice.
May was still chewing busily on her toy after the door shut.
Crouching down to her level, Peter ruffled her hair. "Look at you," he cooed, "already Spider-Man material. One day you're gonna be a great hero, aren'tcha?" Even if she couldn't understand what he was saying, she still giggled when he gently pinched her cheek. The car keys were still hanging out of her mouth and swung side-to-side as he let go.
"Just like your dad," he added quietly, almost like an afterthought. It was more to himself than anyone else.
She batted at his hand, and then tumbled onto his slipper-ed foot; tongue sticking out all the while as if to say duh, of course.
--
After Peter had been recruited to the Spider Society (which was probably a mistake on Miguel's part), there'd been some regular visitors to the apartment. Not all at once, though, since said regular visitors didn't join up until a good while after Peter did.
That didn't make him any less glad to see them, though.
"You have a baby?"
Miles' eyes were as big as dinner plates.
"I have a baby!!" Offering Mayday to his former-but-maybe-current protege, Peter beamed. "I would've said hi to you sooner, really, it's just that -- "
" -- He knows already." Gwen cut him off wryly, shutting the door behind them. "Don't worry about reciting the whole 'danger to the stability of the universes' spiel to make him feel better about it. I'm sure he'll forgive us later."
Not commenting on the subject of forgiveness, Miles gently took Mayday from Peter. It was obvious he'd never held a child before, but he was certainly doing his best.
"Oh, the next time you guys come by, I have to introduce you to MJ. I mean -- I have to introduce you, Miles, since she's already met her." He gestured to Gwen and then looked back at Miles. "Man, she's gonna love you."
"Are you sure about that?" It was meant as a joke, obviously, but Peter could tell the kid was genuinely a little nervous. "I mean, who knows?"
"She was fine with Hobie," remarked Gwen. "I doubt she'll mind you at all."
"Oh." Suddenly, Miles' confidence was back. "Right. We're good, then."
"I'm gonna tell him you said that."
"Hey -- "
Although he was probably about to snap back and defend himself, Miles paused mid-sentence, raising an eyebrow. His expression faded from indignation to mild embarrassment.
"Why are you taking photos of me."
Peter was completely unaffected and unashamed. "Stand still, okay? Mayday looks so happy right now and I really need to show her mom later -- "
Gwen audibly snorted, even if she tried to cover it up with a cough; if possible, Miles was even more flustered now. " Seriously, man? I bet you've taken more than enough pictures by now."
"Maybe I have, maybe I haven't."
Utterly oblivious, Mayday was grabbing at Miles' sweatshirt, making little babbling noises. He wasn't trying to move her away, though, and if one looked closely, they could tell that he had subtly brought her closer so she could indulge herself in tugging at the puffy fabric. That didn't mean he was done protesting, though.
"You done yet?"
Finally, Peter lowered his phone, seemingly content. For now.
"Yes. I'm done." He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, sighing in a relatively melodramatic manner. "You're a natural, kid."
"At holding babies?" Miles' nose scrunched up. "Uh, I don't know how to respond to that -- "
"It's a good thing!" Tucking his phone into the pocket of his pink bathrobe, Peter patted the younger Spider-Man on the shoulder. "Being good with babies is a sign of good character. Trust me, I'm an expert on these kinds of things."
"I mean, of course I have good character. I'm Spider-Man." Mayday had begun to wiggle more than she already was, reaching her arms out toward her dad. Noticing this, Miles held her out to Peter. "Not saying I don't trust your judgment, by the way."
"I'm sure you have the utmost faith in me." Picking her up, Peter's expression instantly changed.
"Something wrong?" Asked Gwen, from her position on the couch.
"Mayday took a crap," he announced. "Be back in a sec, guys."
As he traipsed in the general direction of the bathroom, the remaining two exchanged a look. Gwen was still amused; Miles smiling as well, but still wrapping his head around the new knowledge he'd just acquired.
"You good?" She reclined back in her seat. "You're making that face again."
He averted eye contact, but that might've been because he hadn't had a chance to look around the living room before. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Really."
Under her intense and yet concerned scrutiny, he quickly crumbled. "Okay, fine." After a deep breath, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "... Yeah, I'm good. I'm -- I'm more than good, actually. I'm great! But -- "
Even though he was being honest, Miles' tone still read as more than a little conflicted. " -- I'm just, you know … overwhelmed. Because I -- "
He steeled himself, before continuing.
" -- I thought I'd never see you guys again. You already knew that, right? You saw my reaction." Laughing a little nervously, he fiddled with the collar of his jacket. ".. Yeah."
"... Yeah?" Echoed Gwen, and all previous traces of her snark were completely gone. She slid off the couch, approaching him. "I understand. It was like that for me, too. Like, I knew that I wasn't the only Spider-Person, but not to this extent." There was a pregnant pause before she spoke again.
"We missed you too, Miles."
His eyes softened. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
A beat.
"Right." He laughed again -- much less apprehensively, this time. "At least I know that no villain's gonna be able to stand up to the combined might of the Spider Army."
"Spider Society." A friendly punch was directed to his forearm. "That joke's already getting old, Miles." She was smiling anyway, but maybe that was because of the stupidity of said joke.
"Oh, yeah? You still found it funny."
"Did not."
"Are we seriously doing this agai -- ? Okay, we are. Did too."
"Did -- "
"Okay!" Exclaimed Peter as he entered the room, stretching out both the 'o' and the 'a'. Mayday, presumably freshly changed, was hanging off his shoulder. "Let's just settle down and behave, alright?" He looked around, bright-eyed. "Personally, I think that joke was great."
"... You've gotta be kidding me."
Miles just shot Gwen a smug grin. "Hey, don't knock him for agreeing with the guy who's right."
Peter, anticipating more venom his way, held his hands up in surrender. "Just stating my opinion."
--
"I still can't believe you managed to get Miguel to come to her birthday party."
"To be honest, neither can I!" Wrapping an arm around his moderately baffled wife, Peter made sure his phone was in his outermost pocket for easy access. "But I got there in the end, with enough persuasion! And there he is, for your viewing pleasure." Grinning widely, he gestured across the room, to where Miguel was sitting on the floor.
"I already said hi to him earlier, don't worry." MJ raised her eyebrows at Peter. "... But what kind of 'persuasion' are we talking about?"
His mouth clamped shut, and suddenly, his face appeared to be flushed a dull shade of pink. "Uh, I'll tell you later, honey."
She narrowed her eyes, smirking a little. "Oh, yeah?"
".. I swear, it's not what you think."
"I think nothing in particular." MJ looked impossibly self-satisfied.
Right before Peter was about to reply with another witty retort, she detached herself from his arm. "Be right back, okay? I'm going to check and see if we need to order more pizza." Under her breath she muttered, "And at this rate, we probably will."
He already missed the feeling of her leaning on his side. Corny, yes. But true, also yes. "Have fun!"
After he'd regained his dignity, Peter scanned the area. Yup, everyone was here -- the Spider-Gang, as well as the Spider-Gang-Sequel. Mayday was the life of the party, though. One minute she'd be in the center of the living room with Hobie and Pav, the next she'd be hanging out in the corner with Noir and Ham. Sure, it hadn't been long since she'd first pulled herself up to stand -- the video was favorite-ed in Peter's camera roll -- but she was already taking tottering steps, only tripping occasionally.
And the carpet was soft, and all of the furniture was baby-proofed, so they had nothing to worry about.
The decorations were kind of rushed, but it didn't seem like anyone minded. The birthday girl also seemed to enjoy attempting to web-swing from the balloons, so there was that.
Speaking of balloons, Peter was filled with barely-concealed merriment as he headed over to his technically-boss-but-friend -- who was currently fighting against Mayday's uncontrollable desire to be a handful at all times.
"No -- " grunted Miguel, pulling her back onto his shoulder. "Stop. You're just going to bump your head."
Upon noticing Peter, his expression subtly shifted. In relief? Annoyance? It wasn't clear, but he wasn't going to let the other man speak first regardless.
"Do you let her keep the web-shooter on around the apartment?" Even if he was playing cross and resigned, there was still an element of fondness in the way he handled her oh-so-gently. Peter would probably take a picture if Miguel wasn't looking at him so intently.
"Well, yeah," he shrugged, "It was kind of hard at first, but now she knows not to web valuable objects! So it's all good, really." Mayday giggled, attempting to reach for a balloon again. Without batting an eye, Miguel severed the balloon's string and held it out to her -- taking great care not to accidentally pop it with the claw he'd used to set it free.
He could hold the balloon with one hand. She couldn't. She seemed overjoyed nonetheless.
"I question your parenting sometimes," Miguel bluntly stated.
Peter just smiled. "Your feedback is very much appreciated, bud. But, moving on, have you eaten anything yet? There's pizza in the -- "
"MJ already told me." Upon mentioning her name, Miguel's expression shifted in the same way it had when he first saw Peter. "She has … great hospitality," he added, semi-awkwardly.
"Doesn't she, though?"
"Pff." Miguel's mouth twitched. "Down, loverboy." He was completely unaffected as Mayday repeatedly hit the side of his head with her balloon. All of his attention seemed to be on Peter.
"What, can I not gush about my wife?" Said recipient of Miguel's attention suddenly felt a little warm. "It's practically in the wedding vows. You gotta say something sappy about your significant other at least once per day -- "
"Or what?"
"Or you'll face the wrath of the various matrimonial gods, and be doomed to do all the chores for the rest of eternity."
That earned a small snort from Miguel. "Sounds horrific."
"It is, trust me. And this is coming from the guy who only does them half the time."
"You mean three-quarters of the time," announced MJ, reappearing from nowhere.
"Vacuuming doesn't count." Peter leaned down to press a kiss somewhere on the top of her head. "You know I only do it because she -- " he gestured to Mayday, who was currently sticking her balloon to Miguel's hair -- "Because she likes sitting on top of the vacuum, and you don't allow it."
"Because it's unsafe," deadpanned Miguel and MJ in unison.
"She has excellent balance!"
MJ gave him a look. "Peter, I love you, but your sense of danger is fundamentally flawed."
"Agreed."
Peter made a face that could only be described as a pout. "Man, I hate it when you guys gang up on me."
Thankfully, the bullying was interrupted soon enough, since it was time for the presents. MJ had stressed that it wasn't required to bring something -- but everyone brought presents anyway. Peter had his camera out for the Entire. Time. How could he not, though? He had plenty of data to burn through, and more than enough moments to capture.
Some stand-out gifts were a Spider-Man knit cap that Hobie had made himself ( "Decent job, innit?") , some finger crayons from Noir ("I hope she learns colors faster than I did.") , and an adorable stuffed animal of a very oval-shaped cat from Peni ("It's cute, just like her!!") , among other things. Mayday was practically in heaven, and they hadn't even gotten out the cake yet.
Peter was glad that the Happy Birthday song was pretty much the same in every universe. At least they all had one thing in common.
By the time people started heading home, it was well-past dark outside.
"Thanks for the invite!" Called out Miles, halfway through rushing for the entrance.
"You're welcome!" Concerned, Peter dropped his volume once the door slammed shut. "... What's his hurry?"
"Forgot about his curfew," volunteered Hobie, who was midway through the window. "Little man's gonna get it ." Snickering to himself, he disappeared into the night to who knows where.
"Oh, okay." Peter turned to Gwen, who was the only remaining teenager. "Do you have a curfew?"
"No, but I was about to leave anyway." She patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks for the food." Squatting down slightly to Mayday's level, who was half-asleep in MJ's arms, she poked the toddler's cheek. "Sweet dreams." Mayday gave no response, other than a sleepy smile as she buried her face in MJ's shirt.
"She's going to sleep like a log tonight," said MJ, wryly. "That was a lot of socializing for her."
"It was a lot of socializing for me, too."
--
After Gwen left, it was just them again.
The apartment wasn't that messy, but it could certainly be neater. Neither of them wanted to clean up, beyond throwing the leftover food in the fridge and the pizza boxes into the already-overflowing garbage. Usually, Peter would go on autopilot and putter around until everything was gone, but the bed was extremely tempting.
And so, after putting Mayday to bed, they crawled under the covers in a disjointed sort of way.
"Are you still using my old shirts as sleepwear?" Muttered Peter drowsily. "That thing's old enough to drink."
"And drive," MJ added.
"Not at the same time."
That earned a quiet snicker from her, from somewhere near his chest.
The quiet sounds of the city could be heard outside, from the window that was still slightly ajar. The air-conditioning hummed in the background. The sheets rustled as she changed her position.
"I'm really glad," said Peter.
"About what?" She asked, sounding seconds away from drifting off. Where Peter was a night owl, she was anything but.
"This," he answered simply. "All of this. You, her, them -- "
Pausing, he wondered if it was the late hour that was making him strangely emotional.
"Everything's worked out so far, hasn't it?"
He could hear the smile in the voice when she responded.
"Yeah, it has."
It was doubtful that either of their brains were working at enough capacity to come up with something more substantial, but Peter wouldn't have it any other way. Those three words were the only words he needed.
He welcomed them, as she threw an arm over his torso and tugged him closer.