#and his apartment is small so he cannot escape the legos. I am not sorry

[legokingfisher]

My dad heard Rapton call Dorama a washed-up clown and now he won’t stop calling me a washed-up clown at every minor inconvenience

[edgar-allan-foe]

[nameless short story]

Word Count: almost 2k with a crap ton of talking/fluff

A/N:  I haven’t been writing in a long time since college kind of sucked the life out of me for five years; however, I’ve been having a lot of personal issues arise lately and I find this as a coping mechanism (especially with my job/boss). ps - im sick D:

Shout-out to @tinny-tin, @lloyd-g, and @stiles-derpinski for being awesome and wanting to see my work.

All I see is red and blue. Everywhere. This kid is going to end up giving me a heart attack. It’s a Wednesday night and usually Peter is coming home from band practice, but in the last six months I’ve seen nothing from this boy – no instruments, no science projects gone wrong, just nothing. I feel like I’m losing him all over again since Ben. That boy was Ben’s entire world let me tell you. The way he boasted about winning the regional science fair two years in a row to how Peter was selected for Midtown’s academic bowl, his eyes glistened with tears of joy. It was as if Peter was his son this entire time.

Tonight, I lie awake worrying about this boy like I usually do. It was taco night since yesterday I saw no trace of him until he got up today to get to school. But like Ben, Peter would never voice what was rattling in his head…what kept him out all night. I always tell myself that I hope he’s talking to Ben somehow through all of this, for us. As I start to drift away from following the news as background noise and beginning a new knitting project, I hear the back window crack just slightly. At this point, the creaks and leaks throughout this apartment don’t phase me, they just give the place character.

“Crap!”

“Who’s out there!?” I screamed. I am not the type to fight, but I was boiling over with the constant absences of Peter these past couple days. It’s like this kid doesn’t have a home. I grab my extra knitting needle and tuck it underneath my skirt. I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone use one of these for self-defense in any crime show, but it’s worth a shot on being creative and terrified all at once. I hear the window squeak once more as I inch closer to my nephew’s room. One could easily shrug this off as the wind or an alley cat, but with all the horrible things happening in the neighborhood recently, I am not in any position to risk it. I place my hand by my hip, ready to grab the needle, and swing the door right open to a –

“AUNT MAY! Jesus! Put that thing down!”

“Peter! PETER!? Where the hell have you been?” I shouted. I hated yelling at my boy like this, but there was no other way to let it all out. “Y’know…I’ve made dinner, did your laundry, even ironed your decathlon jacket, and not once have I even heard you say ‘thank you’. I’m getting so tired…so frustrated. Just tell me what’s going on. Please.” I sit on the edge of the bed ready to start crying. These tears have been busting to come out for the past two weeks and it was time to let out Niagara Falls.

“May…please…stop. Don’t cry.” Peter was the sweetest kid you could ever imagine. Have you ever seen those 60s commercials for baby food where the perfect child with the biggest eyes and soft, angelic curls just makes a mess with mashed peaches and greens? That was Peter. Most definitely my boy, but fast-forwarded 15 years. When he was born, I use to call him ‘PB’ for short – Peter Benjamin Parker. His newborn locks would just sit on the sides of his face, tempting you to push them behind those ears and make room for all that gushing. He was a good kid. A lovely little thing. I slowly drop the knitting needle to the floor and embrace Peter for a long-deserved hug.

“Aunt May, I can explain. I know I haven’t been home a lot and I swear, I’ll –”

“Peter, I know you’re lying.”

“May, I love you and I am so sorry. It’s just this internship means everything to me. I know I haven’t been open with everything that has been happening, but it’s some seriously awesome stuff you wouldn’t believe it! Like today at school, I found out that I can use the gravity formula from Mr. Watson’s physics homework to detect the angle in which the Iron-Man suit needs to be elevated to reach maximum speeds for flight! Like it was the coolest thing ever to even think of stuff like that. Oh, and –”

“Okay, okay. Enough Peter. I get it, you love what you do. But promise me something,” I took a deep breath before I can finish my sentence. “Just come home, please. We – erh, I mean ‘I’ – I miss you, honey.” It’s so hard to not include Ben in every little bit of Peter’s life. They were always together and I know in my heart he would be so proud. After calming down a bit, I noticed on the edge of Peter’s eyebrow some small bruising. It was fresh, at least within the last couple hours. I’ve gotten so use to this child getting beat up, I almost expect it. Last time he came home with a black eye, he mentioned a kid named Steve from Brooklyn. Not entirely sure what Peter would be doing over there so late at night…it took at least 30 minutes without traffic to even make it to the outskirts Prospect Park – Peter’s favorite place since he was a little one. Also, doesn’t Ned live 2 blocks from us? I cannot even begin to describe how many times I’ve seen Ned in the past week looking for Peter. It’s as if he’s forgotten about his best friend too.

           “I swear…every time I feel like I’m on to something and report back to Happy…I end up not being so happy…with myself”, I whispered. I shrug off my blue sweater throw my backpack in the corner. I think that was a first for me to even remember where I place my backpack nowadays. I didn’t do too much in the suit today; in fact, I didn’t even do anything at all. I swung around and helped an elderly man get his cat from inside a dumpster. Quite large. Very fluffy. Calico? I took a few photos of some pigeons. Oh, and escaped a near arrest yet again! I should try to be more careful when interacting with cops, but hey, it happens. A lot of what I’ve been doing since school’s been out hasn’t been all too much. I wouldn’t even try calling it “crime fighting”. I finally perfected my training wheels protocol for shooting web grenades down by Coney though! That was amazing on how precise my vision has become with the new suit…or Karen. Should I even call her Karen? Where did I even come up with the name for Karen? Anywho, from now on I’ll have to respect both suit and her.

           My reports have gotten a lot less action-ey if you could call it that. With all the focus on just utilizing the suit without Mr. Stark replacing the tracking system, I feel a bit lost honestly. Not much is happening now in the concrete jungle. Summer is practically gone. I can smell the new textbooks in my locker already and the musk of Midtown’s hallways by the main office. It’s as if the world knows who I really am now, especially now with Mr. Toomes in jail. I slip back on my mask and make sure the bedroom door is locked. May hates it when I lock the door, so I’ve developed a new habit of playing some of my cassettes when I’m home. She seems to be liking my taste recently. I made a recent shift to listening to classic rock when building Lego empires with Ned or doing homework. It replaces the need for me to talk everyone to death, including myself.

           “Hello, Peter. Lovely evening, isn’t it? What’s with the music?” Karen is quite charming when activated I must say.

           “Nothing, I just needed someone to talk to.”

           “Well…you got me. Would you like me to initiate night mode for you?” It’s gotten quite dark since I came back. My eyes usually dim to the size of a rice grain since the bite. It’s been harder to really keep focus too when I’m reading. “Sure! Thanks Karen! I don’t thank you enough really”, I replied. “So…Karen…what can you tell me about…emotions?” I had no idea where to start. Quite frankly, I am known for terrible first impressions. Most say I’m a world record holder in that.

           “Okay. According Webster’s dictionary, emotions are defined as an intuitive or instinctive mental state based on reason, recent events, or your surroundings.” She does this a lot, so I let her talk.

           “Alriiiiight. What can you tell me about falling in love?”

           “Is this about Liz? Go tell her, she would love to hear what you really feel about her.”

           “I –I can’t. You know I am the reason she’s moving to Oregon.” My eyes are beginning to water so much, it’s hard to really keep it from destroying the mask. Karen is known to start the vacuum inside to keep it dry. She’s like May 2.0 really. “I’m sorry Karen, I feel like I’m pushing everyone away with being Spider-Man. I know what I am and who I am, but I don’t know what I want. I know I want something outside of this Stark-universe. I want to be a normal teenager again.”

           “But you are, Peter.” She deactivated the vacuum so her AI voice resonates a bit clearer. “You’re showing your emotions right now and that is what makes you normal. It’s part of growing up.” My sobbing has mellowed out to that of a puppy huffing in it’s sleep.

           “You’re right. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Goodnight Karen.” I peeled off the mask before I could even hear a response.

           “Goodnight Peter.”