Spiderman: Finding Home

Chapter 12

Hey all!

Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Uni has been hitting me hard. I hope you enjoy and please if you can leave a comment and let me know feedback!

TW: Mention of Rape

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Peter's POV

Peter was worried about her. Leaving her in her room, looking everywhere except at him felt like a betrayal to himself and his own ethics, even though he knew on a deeper level that giving her space was what MJ needed. He felt terrible about how the night had turned out. It did not go to plan at all. He didn't know what he was expecting. Maybe a smile? Maybe a chat like they used to have full of self-deprecating jokes on Peter's behalf as they snacked on his carefully chosen selection?

After leaving MJ's, he returned to the building and packed everything away into the backpack. The hopefulness about their evening had left, leaving in its wake a numbness and even frustration. What could he do? How was he meant to support her? He was lost.

Returning home at the unusually early hour was a dead giveaway to Aunt May that something was wrong. As Peter jumped from the ceiling onto his bed, she appeared in the doorway.

"Why are you home so early?"

The concern on her face was one he struggled to return as he raked his fingers through his hair. Her frown deepened.

"Let's go to the couch."

They had a routine. Like any typical teenage boy, sometimes Peter struggled to initiate difficult conversations with Aunt May even though he loved and trusted her more than anyone. She knew him so well that she could tell when he was struggling so they started this simple ritual: as Peter sat on the couch, she disappeared into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He heard her hum as she prepared her coffee and his hot chocolate before rifling through the freezer for their emergency ice cream that they kept a consistent stock of. As he waited for her to return, he pulled off the suit and instantly felt slightly better. He loved the suit. It was like a second skin, but he always felt like he could breath better, more deeply, when he was out of it. He didn't bother asking Aunt May if he could help put the ice cream into bowls or anything because he knew the response he'd get.

"Oh shush, Peter. Sit down and breathe."

He smiled at the thought and did what she would have told him to do.

Chocolate and coffee in hand, she put them on the coffee table they had thrifted and painted together before returning to the kitchen for the ice cream. Sinking into the couchwith her steady warmth at his side and the warm chocolate in his hands, the small smile on his face was genuine.

"You're the best, May."

She smiled in return and nudged her shoulders against his.

"Don't you forget it, honey."

After a few sips of his chocolate and a mouthful of ice cream, he began to tell Aunt May about everything, making sure to leave out any identifiable factors so she didn't work out it was Michelle. He told her about how he had been meeting up with this girl on the rooftop, about how the first night he knew instantly something wasn't right and then he told her about the other night, how she cried and told him about the rape. He told her about how this friend now appeared to want nothing to do with him and how tonight's failed plans had turned out. Through it all, Aunt May listened, eyes trained on him as she sipped her coffee and ate her ice cream. Her eyes were soft and full of concern and she kept a firm hand on his shoulder.