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Peter blinked at the box that had been placed on his lap, covered in very out of season Christmas wrapping paper. The sight of the candy cane pattern left him raising a brow, looking back up to Miles and Rio.
“What’s this?” he asked.
Miles, standing in front of him with his mom, hands on his hips, sent the look right back at him. It appeared kind of half-hearted. Ever since he arrived at the Morales’ apartment, he’d been unable to sit still. Bouncing on the heels of his feet.
On more than one occasion, especially while eating their dinner, Peter had caught Rio sending warning glances towards Miles. Definitely a silent order for him to collect himself. Peter thought it was best to keep quiet about it.
“What’d you mean?” Miles answered. “It’s your present.”
Peter sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Didn’t I tell you not to get me anything?”
“It’s special,” Rio insisted. She had an odd look on her face now as well. It was somewhat like Miles’, but there was more apprehension. More caution. “It’s from both of us.”
Peter’s jaw twisted, locking up as he refrained from saying anything else. It wasn’t like he was going to decline a gift if it was just Miles giving it to him, but with it also being from his mother? Well, that made it slightly different.
Reluctantly, he tore the wrapping paper. A clearly reused Amazon box was exposed. It coaxed a soft smile on Peter’s face. He didn’t know if it was done differently in any other family, but Aunt May would keep the boxes that would deliver her shipped items just for Christmas and birthdays. Every single one of them.
He remembered when they would pile up in the one corner of her room. When Peter had asked if he could help her move them elsewhere, like the basement, she had waved him off, saying it’d be less practical. She was always taking from and adding to the pile anyways.
Peeling the paper back the rest of the way and discarding it next to him, he opened the flaps and peered in. As much as he was confused with the present itself, he was even more confused with what was inside.
“A photo?” he chuckled, carefully picking up the printed film.
It was the three of them at the annual winter bash from last year, a selfie taken from Rio’s phone. Miles had an arm thrown around Peter, trying to knock him down into the snow, and Peter had a hand smushed against Miles’ face, struggling to stay upright. Rio was a bit in front, tiredly smiling for the camera. She had maybe been a bit fatigued from their antics.
They were all wrapped in warm clothes, but Peter remembered his ears almost freezing off. Rio had pulled her hat over his head, making some comment about ‘white boys and their red faces’ that had Miles losing it for the next five minutes.
Pete waved it in his hand. “This is nice, but I think I already have this framed.”
“Turn it around,” Miles urged.
Peter flipped it. A question in Rio’s handwriting was scrawled there. He read it once, then paused, unsure if he processed the words right, then read it again. On the second time, his eyes widened.
Miles started speaking so fast that he barely understood it. “You don’t have to say yes,” he said. “We get it if you don’t wanna. But well, if you do say yes, you don’t have to change your last name either. Mom said you can leave it as Parker, or um— we can hyphenate it. Or something like tha—“
Rio placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, cutting him off. “I think what Miles is trying to say is that you don’t have to decide right now, either,” she said. When Peter and Rio’s eyes met, that serious tone had taken over, but a soft smile also joined it. “Nothing has been written official yet. We understand that this is a very big decision, and if you were to say n—“
“Yes,” Peter blurted.
The apartment went silent. More silent than Peter had ever remembered it being.
A sparkle lit up Miles’ eyes. Peter liked seeing him like that. Despite being seventeen, Miles would have these moments that made him look like the young kid that Peter had first met him as. Fifteen, still working through Brooklyn Visions Academy as a sophomore.
Miles looked up to his mother, but Rio was still staring at him, shocked. He saw the way her fingers tightened at Miles’ shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Peter repeated, his own smile growing. He set the box aside and stood up, holding the photo delicately in both hands. Emotions whirled a storm inside him. “Please. I’ve— I’ve never been more sure about anything else.”
Tears blurred his vision. He choked on his words. Miles dashed across the room and barreled into him. Peter caught him in a hug, his laugh watery as he spun them around. It took him a second to realize that the sudden dampness on the front of his shirt was Miles crying. His laughter sounded like sobs.
Oh god I’m sobbing, Peter realized.
His shoulders were trembling, his face was burning, probably red, much like that day at the winter bash. The muscles in his legs didn’t feel like they could hold him up, turned to jelly beneath the emotional weight of that one question written on the back of an innocent photo.
Can I adopt you?
Peter blinked out more tears, feeling them trail down his cheeks and drip into Miles’ scalp. He turned to Rio and held out a hand. She accepted it in an instant, swaying towards them. Her arms came around them both. Love radiated from her touch. Peter couldn’t remember the last time he was held like this by a person other than MJ.
He forgot how good it was. How safe it made him feel.
“Mis pequeñas arañas,” Rio whispered, laughing softly. Her eyes were glassy, polished looking. “Welcome to the family, m’hijo.”
Peter squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the name roll over him as if it was praise. Miles was shaking in his grip. Rio pressed a kiss to the back of his head, then to Peter’s temple.
His heart was heavy, but an invisible burden had lifted from his shoulders.