Family Ties
Like the graceful and agile man he was, Clint woke up by falling off the couch.
“Ophfm!”
His knees smacked on the ground and his head missed the coffee table by mere inches. It was pure luck that his instincts kicked in and his hand reached for the sofa’s armrest, directing him instead towards a complete nose dive on the sleek marble floors.
With an agitated grunt, he mentally noted to complain about the lack of carpet to Tony later. For right now, he directed his focus on his aching muscles and his clumsy attempt at pulling himself off the ground.
“God, I’m getting old,” Clint mumbled, stumbling to his feet. His joints popped and cracked as he stood up.
Across the lounge and near the kitchen, both Rhodey and Sam sat at the table they normally reserved for breakfast. Clint noticed that the table was clear of any food, and both men instead sat engaged on their individual laptops, their focus unwavering.
Though he was preoccupied, Sam didn’t hesitate to call out, “Sweet dreams, princess?”
Clint visibly rolled his eyes. With hands pressed against the small of his back, he hobbled into the kitchen.
“Ugh,” was the best response he could muster up. The film of sleep was thick on his tongue and the glass of water, sitting on the counter from whoever it belonged to, looked positively fantastic.
“Coffee’s fresh,” Rhodey announced.
“God bless you,” Clint croaked, deciding that fresh coffee was much better than the back-washed cup of water. Immediately he turned towards the pot and poured himself a mug.
He squinted as the sun from the skylights above glared off the stainless steel appliances around him. One hand lazily rubbed his eye, the other bringing the mug to his lips. While he was still groggy and felt as if he could sleep five more hours, it seemed too bright in the compound to be early in the morning.
“What time is it?” he asked, his words half directed to the guys, half spoke into the mug.
Rhodey didn’t look up from his laptop as he answered, “Ten after eleven.”
Clint made a face, swallowing back his yawn with a gulp of coffee. He couldn’t remember when exactly he had fallen asleep. The days and nights were blurring together into one long string of events. One moment he was talking with Nat, the next his eyes were closed, and he was dreaming about the carnival.
The carnival — Clint shuddered. That left a sour taste in his mouth more than anything else.
“You do remember that you still have a spare room here, right?” Sam looked straight at him, one eyebrow high in the air.
Clint shrugged. “Honestly man, I wasn’t planning to fall asleep. Something about being trapped in magical fun-house just takes it out of you.”
“There might actually be a valid reason for that,” Rhodey mentioned, his focus sharp on the laptop as his fingers darted across the keyboard.
The answer stirred him awake in a way coffee couldn’t. Clint was already half-way out of the kitchen, his drowsiness forgotten as curiosity won the best of him. “You don’t say.”
There was a stretch of silence, followed by a few mouse clicks.
“Tony gave me the scoop on those files he found in the base,” Rhodey elaborated, looking up from the screen and towards Clint. “Apparently they left behind a ton of documentation when they abandoned the place. There were records of numerous different generic experimentation's, the creation of Awesome Android —”
Sam huffed. “You guys seriously suck with names.”
“Coming from Falcon?” Clint mocked.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, Hawkeye.”
“It was a hallucinogenic.”
Rhodey cut right to the point, so fast that Clint almost did a double take between the two men. For a split second, he considered checking his hearing aids.
He settled on putting his coffee mug down, his hip leaning heavily against the kitchen island.
“Wanna pass that by me again, shellshock?”
Rhodey leaned back in his chair. “Those playing cards — the ones you all talked about? They were built with housing units to contain a neurotoxin. It was environmental imagery deception; you all thought that you were in trapped in some sort of...demented mirrored fun-house but you weren’t. The gas altered your mental state, tricking you into thinking your environment had changed while everyone around you thought you were gone. Strange was right, once they were destroyed you returned but only for the reason that the hallucinogenic gas had no source to emit from. His magic was fake, all tech and no trick.”
Clint furrowed his brows. From what he remembered, one moment he was walking away from Tony in the abundantly creepy laboratory and then wham, it was like he was surrounded by his own reflection. It all felt so real, so vivid that his stomach began to churn at the idea of anything else occurring.
Someone got into his head, messed with him, played with him. ‘Mind tricks," he thought, a growl stirring in his chest at the concept of his mental stated being altered. Again.
Clint rubbed away an approaching headache. As if most of his nights weren’t already haunted by Loki. That, at least, was a problem they were able to get under their control.
This — this was a whole new playing field they hadn’t even begun to unravel.
The thought spurred the question, “And OsCorp created them?”
Rhodey nodded, spinning his laptop around to face Clint. “Along with a hell of a lot of other stuff.”
He walked closer, ultimately taking a seat at the table across from the two men to better read the screen. On the monitor was a multitude of different documents, most classified with redacted information that not even Rhodey’s government access could unlock.
Clint whistled. “This is Strucker level experimentation.”
Rhodey turned the laptop back around. “Minus the scepter gem, yeah, it is.”
Clint let out a huff of air through his cheeks, blowing them out with exasperation. It was naive to think getting the spider-kid back would solve their problem.
Turns out their problem was a whole can of worms they had only now just discovered, sitting in their own backyard.
It looked like Tony was right after all. OsCorp was into some seriously shady shit.
“I won’t lie, that’s some disturbing bullshit.” Sam’s finger wagged at the laptop. “All this done by one man? Who knows what else Norman Osborn could be up to.”
“Well, that’s what I’m hoping we can find out.” Rhodey cracked both sides of his neck and pulled the laptop closer to the edge of the table, with his fingers returning to the keyboard.
Clint frowned, noticing that the lines of fatigue on Rhodey’s face stood out among his concrete focus. The bags underneath his were highlighted from the laptop’s screen and overall, he looked tired. Positively beat.
Granted, they all were. No one had slept well over the past handful of days, not with Peter’s condition weaving in and out of something the doctors would determine as being remotely close to stable.
Clint groaned and scrubbed at his face. Seeing the kid the way he was —
He slid his chair back and stood up, unwilling to let himself fall into the trap of wallowing. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if he did. The team seriously needed some strong glue to keep them together during all this. Clint wouldn’t deny that some days, he felt like was always playing the role of that glue.
And if he knew anyone in the building who needed him right now, it was one person in particular.
“Speaking of Strucker,” he started to say, stretching out his arms with a yawn. “I should probably go talk with Wanda. She was a wreck last time I saw her.”
Rhodey’s head shot up. “Actually, Clint...”
“She’s gone,” Sam bluntly finished.
Clint’s jaw dropped. “What!?”
The panic that made his voice increase an octave could only be rivaled with the devastating fear they had recently witnessed from Tony. The parental overtone was overwhelming, but unlike Tony, Clint didn’t bother hiding it.
Sam held both his hands in the air placatingly. “Calm down. She left with Strange last night. Actually, Strange left a few days ago and then came back for her. It was kind of...”
Rhodey quirked an eyebrow. “Strange?”
Sam smirked. “Good one.”
Clint shook his head, eyes closed as he tried to process the fact. “Why? Why would she leave?”
And not say goodbye. But that was a thought for another time.
“SHIELD, man,” Rhodey answered, his tone slightly accusatory that Clint had forgotten so soon. “You know how closely they’ve been watching her since Lagos, she’s on thin ice with them already as it is. If they find out she was insubordinate to the lock-down, we could lose her as part of the team.”
“Shit,” Clint muttered under his breath. “You’re right.”
He felt a little silly for not coming to that conclusion early. A beat passed, and at that moment he remembered Steve’s strict instructions on not leaving the compound until SHIELD gave orders. Seeing as those instructions went all the way down to the janitorial staff, he couldn’t help but feel confused.
“How’d she get out?”
Sam’s only answer was a demonstration. His hands waved around dramatically, mimicking the same motions the Sorcerer had used to create his magical portals.
Rhodey cocked an eyebrow at how greatly exaggerated he acted.
Clint merely nodded. “Right. Makes sense.”
Still, it didn’t sit right with him. Clint picked up his coffee mug, taking a hefty sip. If he had to be honest, after everything that had happened, he really just preferred if the entire team was all in one place, present and accounted for.
Not to mention, the last he saw Wanda she had been nearing a breaking point, her heartache so unabated he could practically feel it vibrate off the girl.
He was worried about her.
He was worried about a lot of them.
“It might help you to know that Steve encouraged it,” Rhodey went on to explain. “Strange extended the offer to train her. Rogers thought it would be best, seeing as we can’t exactly teach her much in the...magical department.”
Clint noticed how hesitant Rhodey sounded using the term ‘magical’. He couldn’t blame him. Before this, the archer never actually considered Wanda to have magical abilities himself. Enhanced, absolutely. Magical — well, that was a whole new element for them all.
The polite side of him realized he never got to say thanks to the ‘master of the mystic arts’ for saving them. The cynical side of him was glad the man was gone, allowing things could finally go back to normal.
As normal as things would ever get for them, anyway.
“I think it’ll be a good distraction too, Clint,” Sam added, his words full of more warmth than his usual lighthearted self. “This whole thing with Peter really seemed to get under her skin.”
Clint sighed, knowing that was an understatement. In such a short time she had formed a connection with Peter that everyone but himself was taken aback by.
Clint, however, saw it coming a mile away. Peter had filled a hole she had since she left Sovokia, and it was apparent why.
His grip tightened around the mug’s handle. “He reminds her a lot of her brother.”
“Reminds her?” Sam huffed wryly. “She’s practically taken on the role of his big sister.”
Rhodey didn’t look up from his screen as he said, “Then that makes you the annoying big brother.”
“Psh, whatever.” Sam waved him off. “Brother means I’m young. Old-man over here is pretty much the dad.”
Clint scoffed and set his coffee mug down in the kitchen sink. “Oh hell no. That’s all Stark. If anything, I’m the cool uncle.”
No one argued with his statement. Distantly, Clint wondered if Tony himself would argue with it if he were there.
He shook his head at the thought. As a father himself, he knew a dad when he saw one, related by blood or not. Tony had clearly developed something more than a mentor relationship with the kid, and he could deny that until his face turned blue; they all knew better.
After all, Tony called Parker his kid twice in front of them. They may have not said anything, but they heard it.
Of all the changes they had gone through this past year, seeing Tony fall into such a parental role was one Clint hadn’t expected. It was nice. Dare he say it, Clint felt more relatable to Tony now more than ever. The billionaire somehow seemed more human, more like the dad side of him that lived away on a farm taking care of his own children.
It was just a shame that everyone else noticed it before Tony did himself. Clint could only hope that after all this, the man would accept that it was okay to get close to someone, that he and the kid were a good fit for each other.
After all this, they deserved some happiness in their lives.
Sam pushed his laptop aside, leaning forward on both his elbows with a loud, thoughtful hum. “Then Natasha is…?”’
“Going to kill you if she overhears this conversation,” Clint quickly interjected.
They continued on as if they hadn’t heard him.
“Aunt?” Rhodey suggested, looking over to Sam.
“I was leaning more towards surrogate mom,” he quietly answered.
Clint rolled his eyes. As humorous as he found the team’s make-shift family tree to be, his growing list of things to do was only getting longer by the second. His feet walked heavy on the floor, knowing that on his list would eventually be checking up on Peter. He could only hope that a new day would bring something other than bad news.
“Well, now that I’m thoroughly reminded of family,” Clint said, already heading out of the lounge area. “I need to call Laura, let her know I’m not flying back today.”
Sam frowned. “You don’t have to stick around, man. Steve will give you a pass, go — be with your family.”
“No,” Clint insisted, shaking his head. “Not yet, not until this shit with SHIELD goes away. After everything with the Raft, I owe it to Steve to stick around.”
Rhodey tsked but said nothing further. Sam shrugged, going back to his laptop.
Clint took a moment to watch the two, both busy on their computers studying the newly found OsCorp documents. Sam may have been right; they all knew Steve would be happy to let him go home. All he had to do was ask and they’d make the arrangements, under SHIELD’s radar or not.
He mused on the thought. After the past couple days, hell the past couple of weeks, there was just too much going on here for him to leave. Semi-retired or not.
“Besides...” Clint hesitated, giving a small smile on his way out. “You guys are family, too.”
“Okay, old uncle,” Sam smugly called out.
Clint hollered from over his shoulder, “Cool uncle!”
Sam glanced next to him at Rhodey, who stayed ccupied on his laptop. His expression was neutral, surprisingly flat for someone reviewing such horrific documents. Sam wondered if it was the exhaustion that stripped him of any reaction or if he had just gotten tolerant of these type of things over his lifetime.
He titled his head to the side with piqued curiosity.
“Who are you then? The responsible uncle?”
Rhodey never looked his way as he answered, “Somebody’s gotta be.”
May never thought much about family.
Sitting at Peter’s bedside, holding his uncomfortably cold and limp hand in hers, she found herself thinking more and more about that as the days progressed.
Despite her Italian roots, May didn’t have much family to rely on. The Reilly’s never found good footing to stand on, though it wasn’t without trying. Ben tried to help fix the damaged relationship with her sisters, Annie, Jan, and April. But once both parents passed away, there wasn’t anything left to save.
They both decided that some families just weren’t meant to be together.
The Parker’s weren’t without their share of problems, either. Honestly, May never had an issue with it. For starters, it meant no headaches from any in-laws, an added bonus to their marriage. Ben’s parents passed on not long after he started his career in the U.S Army, and Richard was the only relative left in his life worth hanging on to. The marriage with his wife Mary only brought them closer together, and when they had Peter...well, May was sure that the sweet, dimply baby boy would be the cherry on top of her already perfect sundae.
Losing them ended up being the hardest thing she had to go through.
It left her with Peter. He was all she had left.
The knowledge festered in her mind as the days passed by, each one tortuously slow. All the while, and though she felt lonely, she was never actually alone. It seemed there was always an audience, always someone checking in on her and Peter, and always a flurry of nurses and doctors coming and going.
The stress that clouded the air was persistent and oppressive, the machinery around her cold and mechanical, even Peter’s skin was chilled to the touch. But slowly and surely, an unexpected wave of support tore through the monotony of time.
It started with Happy.
Tony, who had all but camped out in the infirmary with her, was not-so-elegantly kicked out by Colonel Rhodes early in the morning. “Tony, you look like shit and smell like a rotting aquamarine,” she heard him say. “Go take a shower, for Christ’s sake.”
She appreciated Tony’s company, especially since his presence kept her from having a full-on meltdown in front of staff and a very drugged up Peter. But she appreciated the break from him just as much. It gave her breathing room, time to collect her thoughts and be by herself.
Or so she thought. Happy had entered through the two automatic glass doors to the med-bay room not long after the billionaire had left. She wasn’t sure if that was by coincidence or at Tony’s insistence.
For a moment, May almost considered asking him to leave. Her hand trembled holding Peter’s and her ears burned with embarrassment, knowing full well that she wasn’t strong enough for this — whatever this was.
But when she looked up and saw Happy, saw the sad, sympathetic and remorseful smile he had for her, she decided against it.
“May,” he greeted softly.
She wanted to say something, she really did. ‘Sorry for yelling at you the other night.’ ‘Thank you for all you’ve done for Peter," even just ‘Hey.’
But the lump in her throat hardened and her words seized in her mouth.
Luckily for her, she didn’t have to say a single thing. Happy was already halfway into the room, his arms open wide.
“Come here.”
He gestured for a hug that she greedily took, and it wasn’t until she received it that May realized how desperately she needed the physical contact. It felt like a warm blanket on a cold day, a comfort she had been unknowingly longing for.
May knew Happy better than anyone in the facility. While she would never consider them close, she would consider him a friend. She knew, realistically, it was because she had so little friends left in her life, but his reliability to both her and Peter was something she didn’t take for granted.
So all and all, she knew him well enough to know that he didn’t like showing much emotion. The hug was short, sweet, and to the point.
When he pulled away, she looked up at him and tried her best to give a smile. Not only did the attempt hurt her lips, but it must have looked terribly pathetic. His face immediately fell flat at what he saw.
“You doing okay?” Happy put a hand of her shoulder, squeezing it gently.
His voice was considerate, but not overly so. It still sounded like Happy, no pity in his tone like how the doctors sounded, not syrupy with false affection like the nurses. It was grounding to hear him, bringing back a sense of normal to her world.
May sniffed, wiping away the wetness from underneath her glasses.
“I don’t know,” she croaked out, sitting back down in her chair. “I don’t...this is just — it’s all a freaking crapshoot, they can’t get his meds right and he’s — he keeps waking up and I’m — god, I’m so sorry. I am such a wreck.”
Happy shook his head. “Hey, no, that’s okay, no one expects you to have it together right now.”
May scoffed a laugh. ‘Together’ was the furthest thing on her mind. Semi-sane and not-a-complete-mess were the best she could hope for, and yet there had been no sign of her regaining any of her former composure.
She was tired. Tired of panicking, tired of crying, tired of watching the monitors attached to her boy and hoping they’d tell her lies that would bring a better tomorrow. All she could think about was the road they had in front of them — the road Peter had to take — and how she feared she wouldn’t have the strength to endure it.
Not after Richard and Mary, not after Ben.
Most days, Peter was her strength. Her rock. She was lost without him.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Happy was quick to squat down to her level, his hand still gripping her shoulder if not tighter at hearing her crackly, tear-filled words.
“You don’t got to do nothing, May. Tony’s got this all taken care of, you just...you be here.” He glanced over at Peter, frowning at the sight of wires, tubes, bags, and machinery that made him seem so much smaller. “They’ll fix him up. I'm sure of it.”
May wanted to believe it. Scrubbing at her face, she knew that there wasn’t any other choice but to believe it. Stark’s medical team was all Peter had going for him, and they were advanced well beyond what any John Hopkins or Saint Jude’s hospital could offer. She was eternally grateful for the overwhelming amount of help and support he was putting forward, really — she was.
It was the fact that with every dose of whatever crazy steroid induced painkiller they were giving him, it seemed to become less effective. A tolerance build up, they explained. May had no idea that the spider-bite Peter told her about had changed his body this much, to the point where basic modern medicine wouldn’t help.
‘Screw that spider,’ she found herself thinking. It hurt to hear her baby cry the way he did, muffled from the restraints of a breathing tube. It hurt her ears and her heart, and her heart was already a broken, crumbled mess — she had no idea where to find the strength to tolerate anymore.
Happy stood up, awkwardly clearing his throat and pointing to the doors behind him.
“You need some coffee?”
She opened her mouth to answer.
He beat her to the punch. “You look like you could use coffee, I could use coffee — I’ll get us some coffee.”
Happy was already squeezing out of the two sliding doors before she could blink. His movements were jittery and uncomfortable. If she had to be honest, May never expected him to return.
For some time she occupied herself holding Peter’s hand, caressing what skin of his was left exposed underneath the tape and catheters, reminding herself to count small blessings. It was what Ben always told her to do.
And then Happy returned, two steaming hot coffees in each hand. She was slightly surprised as he leaned across the hospital bed to offer her the styrofoam cup, and graciously she took it.
“I ever tell you about the first time I went to Peter’s school?” Happy took a seat in the vacant chair across from her.
May held off on a sip from the cup.
“It was the autumn Decathlon competition last year, right?” Her voice became a little more firm, less watery the more she spoke. “I was out of town, so Tony offered him to stay here after they returned from South Carolina.”
Happy paused. His coffee cup froze half-way to his lips as he pondered her words.
“That’s not...wrong,” he admitted.
May was too tired to work up any anger. She settled on an exasperated sigh that Happy followed up with an innocent shrug.
“Well, cats out of the bag now, so...”
They could both almost hear what Peter’s whine of protest would be. “Hap, dude, not cool, man.”
By the time she finished her coffee and politely declined his offers of a refill, Happy had gone on to tell her about what happened after Peter’s Homecoming dance. More accurately, the surprise invite to become an Avenger.
“And here I am, in the boy’s bathroom of a high school — do you hear me, May? You want to talk about feeling pervy. And then he asks if Tony’s here, in a stall — I love the kid, but Christ.”
May laughed. For the first time in almost a week, she laughed with purity, her smile hurting a lot less as she listened to Happy tell her story after story about her nephew.
There were many she hadn’t heard before, some more embarrassing than others. She found herself promptly apologizing when he told her about the time Peter drank way too many energy drinks, his hyper behavior making a trip from Midtown to the compound significantly more annoying than usual.
“Kid insisted they didn’t affect him. Turns out twenty of anything will affect him pretty damn good,” Happy chuckled.
There were stories she hadn’t expected to hear, like how he told her about late last year when Peter aced his finals. Apparently, unbeknownst to her, Tony had taken them out for ice cream, which resulted in both men trying to out-eat each other in dairy product that only made one of them sick.
“Let’s just say rush hour traffic got to watch a grown-ass man puking on the side of 295 and this kid," he pointed to Peter, "has a freaky stomach of steel.”
May hummed. Tony’s incessant presence in the infirmary was beginning to make more sense, and a part of her was ashamed it took her this long to see it.
They eventually found themselves on the subject of television. Happy found the TV remote she had yet to even touch, fondly recalling the time Spider-Man was caught on live TV dumpster diving for what they’d later find out was his lost backpack.
“I mean, the dumpster?” Happy flipped through the channels. “C’mon, surely you or Tony could spare him another backpack. That thing must have smelt like New York on its worst day.”
“But you don’t get it — he loses one every week,” May stressed, caught between a laugh and honest frustration.
Happy chuckled, otherwise leaving the statement untouched. For a moment only his channel surfing and beeping monitors filled the empty air.
“You ever watch Downtown Abbey?” he suddenly asked.
May shook her head.
Happy was quick to turn on the television program, leaving her no time to protest. As he sat back down, he went on and on about what a great show it was and how much she would love it.
With nothing else to do, she gave it a shot.
Three episodes in and May realized that there was no amount of time she could give that would make her even remotely like the show.
Happy seemed enthralled though, so she let it be. After all, having him around seemed to put her crushing heartache on a warm back-burner. It was a nice distraction, time going by faster with him around.
Peter still laid hooked up to machines, injured — ‘recovering’ she corrected herself — but those problems almost seemed less troublesome for the next couple of hours.
She watched the show with Happy, and even kept it on in the background after he left.
It wasn’t long after that someone else made an appearance, someone she wasn’t familiar with.
“Mrs. Parker?” The man waited at the entrance of the room. “May I come in?”
She was confused at first, unsure of who he was and why he felt the need to be there. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, it was clear he wasn’t a part of any medical staff. But Tony had yet to return and May couldn’t deny that it felt nice to have some sort of conversation again with; something she and the billionaire had been struggling to manage.
So she shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat.”
He smiled. It seemed genuine, like he could actually care about her as much as everyone seemed to care for her nephew. May couldn’t help but wonder why.
“My name’s Clint. I’m a member of the team here.” The way he downplayed his introduction was obvious to her. ‘Team.’ May thought. “I had the opportunity of getting to know your nephew very well the past couple of weeks.”
His face looked familiar. With a squint of her eyes, May studied his features, slowly starting to recognize him the longer she looked.
It quickly dawned on her that she was face-to-face with an Avenger.
“You helped save him,” May bluntly stated.
Clint paused and stuffed his hands deep into his jean pockets. His attention fell on Peter, his expression darkening the longer he took in the sight.
“Something like that,” he ended up muttering.
She swallowed several times before saying, “Thank you.”
He shook his head. “You don’t need to thank me, ma'am. We wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.”
May looked away, her chest tightening with either an abundance of pride or a breathtaking amount of sorrow; she wasn’t sure which. She squeezed Peter’s hand a little harder, wishing he was awake to hear as she told him just how proud she was, how proud Ben would be of him.
She also wished he was awake so he could hear her ground him until his senior year of high school. There was no way she was letting him out of her sights again. No way in hell.
“Peter’s a great kid.” Clint’s voice broke her away from her thoughts, and she looked over to see him slowly take a seat across from her. “I have a teenager myself. They can...they can be a handful.”
May blew a sigh through her lips. “Yours also an overly ambitious inexperienced superhero with no self-preservation skills?”
Clint barked out a laugh, quickly swallowing it back with a shake of his head. “No, no, I uh...I can’t say that he is.”
“Keep it that way,” May replied, her voice tight.
Clint gave a ghost of a smile. “I’m doing my best.”
She couldn’t keep her eyes off Peter and apparently neither could he, the both of them taking a moment to soak in his appearance. Being a father himself, May wondered if he could ever see what she saw.
The others that came and went saw a super-hero, a super-kid, Spider-Man. She saw her little boy, carefree, happily playing with bugs in the dirt at the park.
That little boy shouldn’t be so hurt, he shouldn’t be in so much pain.
“But if I may say…”
May looked up at him. Clint had leaned forward, casually resting his forearms against the plastic guard railings of the hospital bed.
“A kid like Peter? You wouldn’t want him any other way. He’s got something most people don’t. Being Spider-Man — that’s taking on a lot of responsibility for a boy his age. I don’t know any other kid who would use that sort of power the way he has.” Clint paused, frowning thoughtfully. “Hell, I don’t know many adults who would do the same. It’s a seldom find to come across someone so willing to be the hero, against all odds, no matter the costs. With all due respect, that’s not a trait you want to smother, Mrs. Parker.”
“Yeah, well, no worry about that.” May found herself speaking before she could think twice, her tone containing more bite than she intended. “Stark’s doing a great job of bringing that part out of him.”
She sounded bitter. May immediately realized it, cringing with a shake of her head.
“I’m sorry, I —”
Clint held his hands up placatingly. “You don’t need to explain yourself.”
“I don’t know where you two stand and I didn’t mean that the way it came out —”
“I understand, I do.”
Clint tried dismissing her concerns. May continued to shake her head, frustrated with how unintentionally angry she sounded at someone who she, quite frankly, wasn’t angry with at all. She felt stupid with fatigue. Nothing she said or did was coming out right.
“No, no, that was...that was mean. That was callous. That’s not me, I —” May waved both her hands around frantically. “I take all that back. Forget I said that.”
Clint’s eyebrows arched to his hairline. May wouldn’t blame him if he was confused. Every word she rambled made her feel more and more like a lousy mess, unable to formulate her thoughts and more so, unable to keep her emotions in check.
She knew it was easy to replace her sadness with anger and she had to continually tell herself that she wasn’t angry, that she was trying to take the easy way out of dealing with the problem. She would never be okay with Peter behaving that way. Now more than ever, she needed to remain an example for him.
“It’s not even that I don’t like Stark — Tony.” May was quick to correct herself. “It’s not that at all. I’m sure even if he never got involved, Peter would still be out there doing the...crazy things he does. It’s not about Tony.” May rushed through the words and hit each syllable as if she was trying to convince herself of what she said.
“It’s...” She let out a heavy sigh, and both her hands clenched around the air surrounding her, mimicking a choking action. “Have you ever wanted your child to get better just so you could beat the living crap out of them?”
Clint showed a quick, fond smile. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
May slouched deeper in her chair, both her arms going to hug herself tightly. “I know its not his fault. I just...I miss our normal. I wish he could be normal again, a normal kid with ingrown wisdom teeth, or appendicitis, not...not...”
It went without saying. Everything surrounding Peter, everything keeping him alive — ‘Count the small blessings,' she had to remind herself. Small blessings like her mutated nephew's healing ability, the one and only thing primarily keeping him alive.
She could hate the spider-bite as much as she wanted to, but fact was, it was making a really shitty situation a little less shitty.
Clint leaned further forward against the railings, letting his chin rest against both his forearms. “If it means anything to you Mrs. Parker, this will eventually become your new normal. It takes time, but it’ll happen.”
May watched him, cocking her head to the side. For the most part, she felt like she was good at reading people, give or take a few misjudgments. So witnessing the brief flash of affection soak beneath the blues of his eyes was all she needed to know — the man cared for her boy. Not just Spider-Man, not a potential Avenger or a kid that got into trouble under their watch.
He cared for Peter.
She relaxed considerably in her chair. “May. Please, call me May.”
“Well, May,” Clint leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did Peter ever tell you about how he played baseball with the Hulk?”
May groaned. “That’s going to be my new normal?”
He smiled in return, the grin open and sweet.
To her credit, she managed something back, though she was sure it had to look as weak as it felt, lopsided and empty. She questioned if that was part of the reason he stayed with her as long as he did. May didn’t mind either way.
He kept her company, sharing stories and talking so effortlessly it as like they knew each other for years. She found out more about the man than she assumed most people knew. He had a lovely wife, two sons and a daughter who he’d do anything to protect. He cared for his team equally as much, going on to talk about the Scarlet Witch she had seen on the news almost as much as he did his own kids.
He promised to give her his wife’s recipe for meatloaf before she returned to Queens, and promised that no one would hurt Peter again under his watch.
In that moment, she believed him. More than that, she trusted him.
It was a relief, knowing she wasn’t alone in this.
Sometime around sunset, May momentarily stepped out into the hallway. She was thankful for the large bay window in the hospital room; it was practically the only thing that told her what time of day it was. And throughout the day staff would come and go, certain tasks being done on the top of the hour, some being done at random.
May had gotten used to it, never feeling the need to leave as they changed bandages, emptied wound drains — she wanted to be there for Peter, no matter what the case was.
It was the suctioning of the intubation tube. The sound was almost enough that she lost it right then and there, all her control threatening to escape from her stomach in undignified ways. She couldn’t break, not yet, not while there was so little strength left in her to begin with.
The hallway was cold, somehow much colder than Peter’s designated room. May tightly wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she had brought a jacket with her on the way out of Queens. At least it was slightly warmer when confined to the oddly large hospital room. The large window overseeing the compound’s facility provided a bit more warmth, combined with the heat of running machinery surrounding her. Up until now, she hadn't even thought twice about being cold.
A shiver ran down her spine, and she visibly shuddered. Her movements were practically synced with the sound of clicking high-heels hitting the tiled floor, so loud it overtook the chatter at the nurse’s station across from her.
“No, no, the conference in Atlanta needed to be rescheduled for next week, not tomorrow.” The voice bounced off the walls, sharp and professional. “Well, I can’t. I’m here in New York for at least another day. You need to figure that out, I’m not — no, I am not leaving here. I am unable to, Mark. Listen, I need to go. I’ll call you back. Mrs. Parker,”
May hadn’t even realized the voice was directed at her, not until she heard her name. She snapped herself to attention, realizing that the long-winded conversation was so seamless she almost didn’t notice someone was calling out to her.
When she turned around, a ginger-haired woman was quickly approaching her, extending her hand out to shake.
“I’m —”
“Pepper Potts,” May finished. “Of course.”
Pepper smiled. It wasn’t cocky or pretentious, lacking all the things Tony Stark would usually ooze in abundance. Instead, she seemed slightly embarrassed, if only for not realizing someone would so easily recognize her. She was, after all, the famous Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries.
May didn’t know much about the company, that was more Peter’s field of interest. But she did know the obvious. She was suddenly very aware of her own presence, things like her greasy hair, clipped back in a messy bun, making her feel like a hobo next to the pristine, polished woman.
“Of course,” Pepper repeated, her hand reaching to remove her Bluetooth earpiece. “I wanted to stop by and make sure you were doing okay.”
May felt her blush run all the way up to her ears. “I — thank you, yes, I’m — I’m doing fine. Thank you.”
While far from starstruck, there was still something overwhelming uncomfortable about having the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation take notice in her. May wondered how hilarious the two of them looked from the outside. Her, dressed in four-day dirty jeans and an over-sized long-sleeved t-shirt. Pepper, clad in a wrinkle-free black and gray two-piece suit that was likely worth three times her monthly rent.
Still, Pepper smiled warmly. “What can I get for you?”
May almost balked at her question. “I’m fine, really. Thank you, though, for taking time out of your busy schedule to —”
“Mrs. Parker, please.” Pepper's tone never hardened, remaining as soft as the smile on her face. “We’re here to help.”
May was silent for a moment. Having never met the woman before, all she had to go off of were the tabloids, magazines and the occasional interview she’d find Peter watching. She never expected the Pepper Potts in the media to be the same in real life, but all and all there was a surprising charm to the woman she hadn’t anticipated.
“You can call me May.”
Pepper clasped both hands in front of her and nodded.
“May,” she started to say, “I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you. How’s he doing?”
May found herself fiddling with the loose strands of fabric on her shirt, realizing that up until now no one had bothered to ask such a thing. She had taken for granted how much everyone simply knew what was going on, always in the loop, always up to date.
“We’re just taking it one day at a time,” she finally answered.
Pepper’s touch surprised May, the gentle hand that rested firmly against the back of her elbow an unexpected gesture of sympathy she didn’t see coming.
“He’s strong. He’ll pull through this,” she assured. “And for anything he can’t do, we’ll be here to help him. For however long it takes, you and Peter are more than welcome to stay here.”
May offered a smile as her response. There wasn’t much else she could say. Agreeing seemed like an empty attempt at tricking herself into believing what she didn’t know could be true, so she held onto Pepper’s sympathy for what little strength it provided her.
Pepper tightened her grip before letting go. “Listen, I know the compound is on lock-down right now, but if you need anything — and I mean anything, clothes, toothbrush, whatever you need, you let me know. I can have it shipped here overnight, cost on us.”
May stared at her with eyes as wide as saucers. Before she could decline the offer, Pepper was already talking again.
“You have Happy’s phone number, right?” she asked, her hand digging into her blazer’s pocket and retrieving her cell phone.
May wordlessly nodded.
“I’m going to have him send you my contact information. Don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I know you didn’t have any time to prepare before you came here, so I’ve made it my responsibility to ensure you’re taken care of.” Pepper already complete typing out her text message and hitting send by the time she finished talking. She looked up at May, her expression melting with empathy. “No matter what it is, call me.”
There were a lot of thoughts that began to run through May’s head. Like how she had been wearing the same jeans for days in a row, how she had nothing but her purse with her and a stick of deodorant running down to it’s last few swipes —
How she was perfectly capable of handling all those problems on her own, like she always had. Because she had no one but herself to do so.
“I appreciate that Ms. Potts —”
“Pepper.” She didn’t miss a beat, her tenderhearted smile remaining intact.
May nodded. “Thank you, Pepper. But you don’t have to go out of your way like this. Really, I’m fine.”
“Please. It’s no trouble,” Pepper insisted, quiet and sincere. “Peter’s family, and so are you.”
May felt her stomach flip at Pepper’s words. ‘Family.’ Her arms reached around her own waist, hugging herself tightly. She had become so adjusted to watching her own back, taking care of herself and Peter that she wasn’t sure how to let anyone else help.
Maybe it was time she let herself know what that was like.
“Happy’s tied up with security for most of the evening, but I’ve made sure that he stops in later tonight to show you where your quarters will be.” Pepper immediately caught onto her confusion, holding an open palm in the air to correct herself. “Well, it’s Peter’s quarters. Obviously, you’re more than welcome to utilize the space while you both stay here. I believe Tony bought him Star Wars bed-sheets though, so as long as that’s not a problem for you...”
May’s eyes crinkled as she laughed. “Of course he did.”
She savored the moment. It was nice, to feel light again, to not feel the crushing pain in her chest occupy her every thought.
The cynical side of May wanted to do nothing more than disregard the conversation she had with Pepper, chalking it up to false pleasantries she’d be lucky to receive again. Even after Happy returned to show her Peter’s private bedroom at the compound, and even after she took in the enormous amount of effort Stark clearly put into the living space for her boy, she refused to let herself believe it was anything more than basic courtesy.
So when she returned to Peter’s hospital room and found a gift basket awaiting her, she couldn’t help but be surprised.
And it wasn’t just because Captain America was the one there to give it to her.
“Mrs. Parker,” he greeted. “Pepper personally wanted to make sure you got this tonight.”
“Oh.” May reached out to take it from him. “Thanks.”
It wasn’t until she had it in her hands that May realized how comically large the woven wooden basket actually was. Held against Captain’s America’s chest, it barely looked to be the size of her purse, his admirably large physique easily downplaying its size.
She barely managed to get it across the room, setting it down on the bay window ledge with a muffled grunt. While she would wait to open it, many items laying on top caught her attention. Most were the basics; toiletries, essentials, food and water bottles of brands she never recognized and was sure she could never afford. Deeper inside she caught sight of unexpected items; blankets, a bottle of wine — was that a Starkpad?
“That’s one thing Pep and Tony have in common.” His voice caught her attention. May turned to look at him as he casually shrugged. “They both like to go all out on certain things.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” May huffed, pointing to the basket with a quirked eyebrow. “How much do you think I could sell this all for?”
Steve grinned, the whites of his teeth shining brightly from the overhead fluorescent lights. “Please, use it. You need to take care of yourself too, Mrs. Parker.”
“It’s May,” she corrected. “Please, if one more person calls me ‘Mrs. Parker’ I might actually start to feel my age.”
As she settled into the over-sized upholstered armchair at Peter’s bedside — ‘Stark really does go all out here’ — across from her, Steve chuckled and leaned his hip against the footrest of the hospital bed.
“Fair enough. It’s good to see you again, May.” He gestured to the open chair across from her. “Would you mind if I sit with you and Peter for a while? I might become...a little tied up here soon. I would like to...”
Though his words trailed off, she understood his intention.
“Of course. But we can never tell him you were here. At least not while he was like...” May motioned to the bed with a somber expression. “...this.”
Steve slowly sat down, his gaze softening. “Why’s that?”
For a moment, May looked dumbfounded. She swiveled her gaze between Peter and Steve, ultimately settling on the latter with high arched eyebrows.
“He’s a teenager. This right here — it’s the be all and end all to embarrassment. He’ll be mortified.” She slouched wearily in the chair, managing a faint smile along the way. “I can hear him already. ‘May, god! I can’t believe you let Captain America see me in nothing but a hospital gown. Ugh, god, blergh, eck, hashtag why didn’t you just let me die’.”
Her voice was absurdly exaggerated, and though Steve seemed to be slightly confused and extremely horrified, May carelessly waved him off.
“Kids have gotten more dramatic these days,” she explained. “Don’t think I understand it. I swear it’s like they have own language.”
Steve nodded, chuckling. “Sounds about right. Me and an old friend of mine were similar back in the day. Our parents couldn’t seem to keep up with the lingo.”
May found herself curling up further in the chair, to the point where she was hugging her knees close to her chest.
“Then I guess there’s no turning back for me. I find myself using Urban Dictionary way more then I’ve ever wanted to.” A beat passed, and she didn’t need to look at Steve to see his lack of understanding. “Don’t look it up. I’ll save you the horrors, just come to me if you need anything translated, got it mister?”
He laughed, his smile so amiable and natural that May was sure it could melt even the hardest of hearts. She liked him better in person, his compassion much more authentic, more substantial than the old war posters and videos she watched growing up.
“Duly noted.” Steve’s laugh faded away, and he looked towards Peter affectionately. His expression was soft, strong, but it was impossible not to notice the crack forming underneath the surface.
It was different from the night he arrived at her home to break the news of Peter’s then-assumed-death.
It was a glimmer of remorse, reflecting vividly in his eyes.
It reminded her of Happy, of Clint, of Tony — so many people she had come to find out would give their lives to defend this boy. She thought she had been alone in protecting Peter, her sole responsibility, her burden to carry. Come to find out she was terribly wrong about that.
“You know, I have to say...Peter reminds me a lot of that friend.” Steve looked up, forcing a smile that held more sadness than anything else. “Looking out for the little guy? It’s a very noble thing to do. You should be proud of him.”
She was, but it never hurt to hear it again.
May’s hand reached out for Peter’s, a swarm of butterflies rolling in her stomach from the sheer amount of maternal pride. Sure, this wasn’t the life she ever expected to live, not after taking Peter in and not even after losing Ben. It wasn’t her normal, and she wasn’t efficient at letting others help, that much was clear.
But hearing about how much Peter had changed, how he was flawlessly growing into such a heroic man behind her expectations — May started to believe she could manage some change as well. It was hard, change always was, but having others around to help would make a little easier.
She cleared her throat a few times. “That friend of yours...he make it out okay?”
Steve didn’t answer right away. Instead, he dropped his head, slowly crossing his arms over his chest in deep thought. The topic seemed to be troublesome for him, and she almost apologized for bringing up what was clearly a sore subject.
“He’s getting there,” Steve finally answered, right before she could say anything. “And so will Peter. Consider this nothing more than a bump in the road.”
May nodded, her thumb absentmindedly caressing around the clear tape sticking to Peter’s skin.
Suddenly, it didn’t seem so threatening — it was just tape, she remembered. It was just tape keeping IV’s in place, of which were simply there to make Peter better. The monitors weren’t as scary anymore, the beeping a pleasant reminder that he was alive, that his heart was beating in a similar rhythm as theirs.
‘It’s all just a bump in the road’, she told herself.
She could handle that.
“You know, speaking of bump in the road.” Steve awkwardly cleared his throat. “Pete here told us he’s working on getting his driver’s license?”
May practically choked on her snort. “Yeah, and I promise to give plenty of heads up when that happens. Whenever Peter Parker hits the streets, you will be rightfully notified to stay on the sidewalks.”
Steve’s laughter guided her into a gentle state of relaxation, one she let saturate her every nerve. Somehow along the way, he encouraged May to tell him what was later dubbed as the ‘Whole Foods parking lot disaster’, a story she was sure Peter would straight up murder her for repeating.
She could still hear his defense ring in her ears. “May, c'mon, you are such a drama queen. I didn’t hit seven shopping carts. It was six and a half, everyone knows the tiny carts don’t count as full carts.”
She lost count of time after that, the sun that had been beaming in through the bay window now nothing but dazzling stars across the compound’s acres of land. Her time wasn’t spent listening, rather telling, her stories reminiscent of an easier time in their lives.
Steve sat and took it all in, smiling and laughing along the way.
It didn’t take long for May to realize there was something different about him, a unique trait that made him stand out from the others. While it seemed everyone wanted to tell her a story about Peter, Steve wanted to hear what she had to say. It was as if he wanted to get to know Peter better, treating him more than just some kid who had gotten in over his head or someone he felt responsible for having gotten hurt.
May had a feeling that after all was said and done, Peter wasn’t going anywhere in these people’s lives. It was funny in retrospect; she had been worried he was a nuisance to them all. Yet they couldn’t seem happier to have him around.
She had just finished telling Steve about Peter’s ninth birthday party — “I swear if we had the money, he would have been both Iron Man and Captain America. But those costumes are expensive, and he had to pick between the two. If it’s any consolation, I remember the Iron Man costume being significantly cheaper.” — when Tony came strolling through the room’s automatic doors.
“Rogers,” he curtly greeted. “Treating the woman well, I hope.”
They both looked up when he walked into the room. It was impossible not to notice just how tired he was, like every trace of his normal momentum was gone.
Steve carefully stood up from his chair. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Tony had immediately made a beeline for the wall closest to the room’s entrance, pulling up data on the monitors that neither were one hundred percent sure he had permission to access. It didn’t stop him. He clicked through the medical charts and studied them carefully, not uttering a word to either of them as he did.
May didn’t question it, and frankly, she didn’t mind. It was easier if he briefed himself on Peter’s condition rather than have her do it for him, not that there had been much change throughout the day.
Steve straightened his shirt as he looked down at her. “It was nice talking with you, May. Thank you for letting me get to know Peter a little bit more. Your stories were a treat to hear.”
She pointed a finger his way. “You’re sworn to secrecy on the Captain America underwear.”
Steve chuckled and nodded. Both of them seemed to expect a quip from Tony, some sarcastic remark about ‘being offended’ or ‘needing to change the kid’s wardrobe.’
They paused in anticipation, but his silence never broke.
It was uncharacteristic, so much that May noticed even Steve seemed rattled by it. As he made his way to leave, he stopped short of the doors where Tony stood. While they automatically opened for him, he didn't depart. Not yet.
“Tony,” Steve said, keeping a few feet of distance. “You alright?”
Tony didn’t break his focus on the monitors as he answered, “Always.”
There was a pause between them, the tension thick enough that May could feel it across the room. It was like a bad car accident, curiosity preventing her from looking away. While she would never ask, she could tell there was something unspoken in the air, something lingering in limbo that very obviously put a metaphorical wedge between the two of them.
Steve looked like he wanted to do so much more than just nod and leave. Ultimately though, that’s what he did.
The doors slid shut. Tony sighed, his shoulders heaving as he made his way to the recliner chair not too far away from May. The cushions visibly dipped when he sat down.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands.
“So,” May started to say, “you were gone for a while.”
Tony shook his head and ran a hand across the length of his face. “Yeah. Not what I intended.”
His words bit harshly with resentment. May distinctly remembered how quickly he wanted to return after taking a shower, and looking at her wristwatch, she realized he had been gone for a better portion of the day. If possible, it seemed he returned with even more stress than what he left with.
“I’ve been told that requesting to have an unofficial intern put on company health insurance is ‘cause for suspicion’,” Tony scoffed, his hand reaching to rub the back of his neck. “Somehow that ended up in an emergency meeting with my legal team, and I swear to God I can’t do one single thing without...”
His words trailed into an incoherent stream of grumbles that May didn’t even try to understand.
“Health insurance? I — I appreciate the sentiment Tony, but Peter’s covered under my plan.”
Tony’s gaze met hers, looking nothing short of torn. “There’s no way any of these doctors fall under your network, May.”
Her face fell flat, and she was sure a quiet ‘Oh’ fell out of her mouth, but she was too far gone to know for sure.
Of everything that went on the past couple days, May had to admit that never crossed her mind. In hindsight, she felt stupid for not coming to that conclusion earlier. As Peter always said — she was the adult, she knew how to do the adult-things.
Suddenly, her stomach began to boil with panic over how they were going to continue to manage this, how they were going to continue with him hospitalized here and keep a roof over their heads all at the same time. May hadn’t even realized she had begun chewing her nails until her tooth accidentally bit into skin.
Tony must have read her thoughts, or at the very most seen her concern. He leaned back into the recliner with a gesticulated wave of his hand.
“It doesn’t matter. Even if we can’t get him covered under Stark Industries, I want him being treated by the best. No matter how long it takes for him to get better, he’s taken care of, here, by me. I’ll pay out of pocket if needed.”
May’s tired and puffy eyes shot wide open. “Tony, that’s —”
“Look who you’re talking to. You’re not paying a dime.” Tony sighed, folding his arms loosely over his chest. “Besides, I’ve got plenty to go around.”
It had to be the first time she ever heard the man talk about his money in such a bitter way. Usually so proud about his wealth, always boasting about his lifestyle, Tony seemed unnaturally upset at his own words.
They were quiet for a moment, the clean air diminishing any stress between them.
Even though May kept her focus primary straight ahead of her, staring at either Peter or the machines and the numbers she’d never understand, it was impossible not to notice Tony across the room. Every so often he’d stretch out his jaw, wiggling it in circles before returning to normal.
May leaned over and reached for her purse, digging inside to break the silence.
“Gum?”
“Hm?”
“It helps,” May clarified, leaning forward with the stick of gum. “With the ear popping.”
Tony paused, observing her and the silver wrapped gum in her hands. He hesitantly leaned forward to accept it.
“Thanks.”
May wasn’t sure if he planned to chew it or throw it in the trash like her walnut date loaf — ‘Come on Tony, I’m not clueless’ — so she was surprised when he actually unwrapped the stick and popped it inside his mouth.
What followed was a few minutes of awkward gum smacking and her fidgeting with her hands. For two people who had occupied the same room for over twenty-four hours, they had said little to nothing to each other.
May audibly cleared her throat.
“Peter used to take swimming classes," she started to say. "Way back when, long ago before...before any of this. Anyway, he stopped because no matter what we tried, his swimmer’s ear wouldn’t go away. He’d be sitting at the dinner table making that same face trying to get his ears to pop. Gum helped sometimes.”
Tony hummed out a response. It was barely heard over the other machinery in the room. His head craned to the side, studying the outsides of the bay window. May wondered if there was something out there that caught his attention or if she had brought up a sore subject with the swimming.
“You look better,” she said. “Cleaner, anyhow.”
He nodded.
And said nothing.
For the most part, May didn’t mind the silence. It gave her time to think. Only she had run out of things to think about and the possibilities, assumptions, and worst-case scenarios were running ragged in her head. She couldn’t stand to be in the dark anymore.
“What happened?”
The question finally got his attention. Tony broke his gaze from the window, looking over to her with his eyebrow arched high.
“You said you’d tell me when I was ready.” May tried to make herself seem bigger in the over-sized chair, an attempt to emit confidence she didn’t feel. “I’m — I’m ready to hear about what happened.”
Tony paused. "You sure?"
He looked at her with doubt, as if there was no way she really wanted to hear about the events that transpired. A part of him was right; May didn’t want to know. She needed to know.
"No," she admitted, folding her arms tightly around her chest. "But I think I might actually go insane here soon if I'm not told something."
Her awkward and forced laugh fell flat. Her chest tightened as Tony sat forward, a loud sigh heaving his shoulders as he rubbed harshly at his face.
“It was the explosion," he started to say. "The one Rogers told you he died in. It was all a trap.”
The first words he said were the last she heard clearly, the rest of the story falling into muffled territory. It wasn’t pretty. May was positive he left out a chunk of details, stammering over certain parts and quick to rush over others. By the time he was finished, she was actually glad he kept the gory bits to himself.
A research bunker kept under the sea, prevented from using even the most basic of their technology, magic, both fake and real, drowning — she waited for the part where he admitted it was all an elaborate joke and he was kidding. It was all too surreal to believe. Too overwhelming. Like a plot of a bad movie, not something that actually happened to someone.
One look at Tony's face and May realized with a heavy heart that it did. It happened to them. To Peter. And Tony carried every bit of that on his shoulders.
“It’s my fault, May.” His voice was strained and quiet, his expression a deep, dark apology. “I’m sorry.”
May wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she wished it was his fault. It would be so much easier to carry on if this was Tony’s fault. She could be angry at him, she could unleash her fury with no second thoughts.
It was so much harder to be furious at life when life wasn’t an actual entity she could project her anger out on.
May sniffed and let down her hair, ruffling through her long locks with stiff fingers. “We call it Parker luck.”
Tony’s head shot up. His energy was long since gone and so was his charisma, in its place confusion and disbelief.
May simply shrugged. “Sounds like that’s what this is. Doesn’t sound like your fault.”
The sounds that echoed between them seemed to be louder in their gap of conversation, an unsettling metronome that persisted without an end in sight.
Hissss from the respiratory.
Click click from the infusion pumps.
BEEP from the monitors.
Tony frowned. “They used Peter to get to me.”
Hissss.
Click click.
BEEP.
May looked away, her eyes focusing down below. “Sounds like they would’ve used anyone to get to you.”
“But they used him,” Tony argued.
Hissss.
Click click.
BEEP.
“Like I said,” May repeated. “Parker luck. Not your fault.”
Tony seemed to be at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing with no sounds managing to come out. It took a handful of seconds before he shook his head, rubbing fiercely at his temple with frustration.
“You’re...you’re not hearing me, May. They took him to get to me. They hurt him just so they could get my money. This is my fault,” Tony stressed, his voice fracturing with each emphasis. “You were right all along, I’m not only a bad influence for the kid but I’m bad for him. Some psychos did this to him for a quick buck and I...I couldn’t get to him fast enough. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”
“I do hear you, Tony.” May curled up on the side of the chair, facing him head-on. “And I get it, I do. Don’t think I’m not upset because I am. But what’s done is done.”
Tony looked as if he could argue that statement for days. She was mildly surprised when he kept his mouth shut, his jaw clamped closed. She was unsure if it was his exhaustion or something else entirely that kept his defense at bay.
And then she realized why he was so quiet, why he was speaking so little.
Hissss.
Click click.
BEEP.
“Mhmfp...” Peter groaned.
Her neck whipped around so fast it physically hurt her. She could see as Peter’s eyes danced wildly underneath closed lids, sweat glistening on his pale skin as his forehead scrunched up in distress.
“He’s supposed to be out for three more hours,” Tony mumbled. “Cho will have to up the dosage again. FRIDAY?”
“Already on it, boss.”
May flinched slightly in her spot, the sound of the AI never ceasing to startle her.
Tony never looked up. His temple rested against his open palm, his elbow leaning against the recliner’s armrest.
It was hard not to notice how fragile he seemed, as if one stone could be thrown at his glass house and it would shatter all the walls he had so delicately built up around himself.
“You’re right about one thing, you know.” May’s shoulders slumped with deep fatigue.
Tony’s worn out eyes met hers and his eyebrows raised in the air, encouraging her to go on.
“He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. He wouldn’t be alive.” May squeezed Peter’s hand in hers, desperate for the physical contact. “So you can ride your guilt train all you want, but all that matters to me is you saved him. If I were you, I’d try to make that your focus as well.”
“I promised you I’d protect him,” Tony croaked, his voice gruff. “I promised he wouldn’t get hurt.”
“Yeah, well, let's be honest here. We both knew we weren’t going to be able to hold onto that illusion for much longer,” May said, hard-pressed to keep her pessimism at bay. “It was bound to happen eventually. Sometimes these things are just beyond our control.”
Things like the only two people she considered family falling victims to an unexpected plane crash. Things like her husband getting shot in an alley and her only nephew watching as he died in his arms. Things like — Peter groaned, muffled by the breathing tube and she gripped his hand tighter — things like this.
May had adjusted to life throwing her curve balls, and she never participated in the pity game of it all. With each tragic event that tore her life apart, she insisted on finding strength from her sorrows. But it had been days now, and she had pawed, dug and searched relentlessly for strength to come from this. Every time she came up empty-handed and every minute that went by, she felt weaker and more alone.
She needed to be strong, not only for herself but for Peter. She just didn’t know where to find that strength anymore.
“I appreciate your sentiment May,” Tony barely blinked as his eyes locked straight ahead, focusing on Peter and nothing else in the room. “Unfortunately, I just can’t say that I agree with it.”
May shrugged.
“You choose to believe what you want to believe in. Just know that I don’t blame you. And while I don’t like speaking on Peter’s behalf, I’m pretty confident in saying he won’t blame you either.” May sniffed, hard. “You saved my boy from the bottom of the ocean, Tony. That makes up for a lot.”
Tony didn’t have anything to say in return. While May had returned her focus on Peter, she could still see as Tony closed his eyes, letting them rest that way. One may think he had fallen asleep, but she knew better.
She knew he was hiding.
It was something she noticed early on with Tony. It was an attempt to keep her from seeing the flurry of emotion that always passed through him, a rush of humanity almost always hid behind some fancy pair of sunglasses he insisted on wearing, the gatekeeper to his true self. He never showed his emotions by talking, instead it was his actions.
Always do, never say.
He stayed quiet, occupied with his own thoughts, but his eyes would speak more than his mouth ever could. His actions always showed his concern; he would pace the floors, repeatedly check Peter’s medical charts, go as far as to make sure the hospital bills were covered, and was always persistent on getting updates from the doctors.
But this was the longest they had spoken since May arrived at the compound, going on three days now. Even then, the conversation was mostly one-sided on her part. It was like a self-defense move, as if not talking would keep him in place, in check, from getting any closer to her and Peter.
May held back a laugh. The only problem with that was Tony had gotten himself knee-deep into that pool already.
Maybe he didn’t realize that yet.
Maybe he had trouble accepting it.
She caressed Peter’s hand. For a while, the quiet returned. Never peaceful, just a lull from their voices.
“You know, my husband used to have this look in his eyes whenever he was with Peter,” May said, the words heavy on her tongue. “It was unique, something I had never seen in him or...or anyone else before. It was like..I don't know, it’s hard to explain. It was like no matter what, Ben wanted to be there. For all the good parts, for all the bad parts. He wanted to teach him everything he knew and hope he could guide Peter from making the same mistakes he had made before. It was like...he knew he wasn’t Peter’s dad and he never wanted to try and replace Richard, but at the same time...he still wanted to be a father-figure for him. He didn’t want Peter to go without that in his life.”
May let out a heavy breath, and with it she turned to look at Tony. “I see a lot of that in you.”
Tony averted his gaze.
May didn’t need to see him to know how he felt.
So she turned back to Peter, a faint tug at the corner of her lip bringing a sense of relief to her core.
Sure, May would never be Tony’s biggest fan. She said it before, and she’d say it again, it was just fact. While never unsuitable to be around her nephew, they were simply two completely different people with little in common. Like others, she questioned some of his behavior and actions throughout the years.
But they had a buffer between them now. They both had Peter.
They had miles to go, but it was something. A foundation. His presence held a different weight now, no longer the problematic Tony Stark that brought her kid into the crazy world of superheroes.
He was the hero that saved her kid, and it cast his appearance in a different light. It wouldn’t be effortless, but as one of the many changes she could feel approaching over the horizon, she could see herself accepting him as a part of her life.
May restrained herself from laughing; that was a scary thought. She didn’t know how to ‘do’ family. Not outside of the obvious, not outside of those she had lost and the few still around — she gripped Peter’s hand tighter. If he could manage to take on the persona of a superhero, she could manage to let a few more people into her life.
Besides, a support system was beginning to sound absolutely fantastic right about now.
Across from her, Tony relaxed, just a smidgen, just enough that May could notice. He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh.
“Parker luck, huh?” Tony said dryly. “Sounds like we need to get some Stark charm on his side to balance things out.”
This time, May did laugh. Although it was considerably short, and though Tony’s smirk barely showed beneath the stress lines of his face, the moment lightened the air in the room. It became a little easier to breathe, a little easier to make it through the next minute, and the one after that.
They kept vigil together, using each other for support when they needed it. She could do this. She had family to help her through it.
‘Family,’ May realized.
Family would be where she’d find her strength.