~Iron Family~

~Extra Scene~

Here is a scene I deleted because it was just an excuse to write about baby Peter Parker. Enjoy! :)

He started to dream.

He wasn't in the dream, at least he himself wasn't standing there watching. It was more like he was watching from behind a screen, or was watching it like a movie.

There was a young couple, whom he recognized instantly, standing behind a pane of glass.

His parents. Richard and Mary Parker.

His father had his arms wrapped around his mom's shoulders. His mom, in a wheelchair, leaned back and rested her head against him, humming a gentle lullaby. She looked exhausted. Her long brown hair was tangled and tied in a bun on the top of her head, she had dark circles under her eyes, and she looked rather pale. She wore a light blue hospital gown and some hospital bracelets were clipped to her wrist.

His dad looked just like he did in the pictures: an older, more worn-down version of Peter. He had the same curious brown eyes, hidden behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, and tousled brown hair, although streaked with gray. He rubbed Mary's shoulders and smiled.

Through the glass, Peter could see clear boxes that looked like tiny little beds. Some had small babies inside, either sleeping peacefully or screaming wildly.

What was heart-wrenching was that these little children were covered head-to-toe in stickers, wires, and tubes. Being an only child, Peter didn't know much about newborns, but they all looked smaller than average.

"You should've stayed up in the room," Richard commented.

"I know," Mary sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. "But I wanted to see him."

With a jolt, Peter realized that one of the little babies must have been him. His dream-self scanned the incubators, eventually landing on the one (of course) closest to the glass window. A sticker on the front read his name and the date he was born.

He stared down at baby-him, getting tunnel vision. He was so small. Ben had always joked that when he was born, Peter was no bigger than two sticks of butter, but he had never actually believed him until now. He looked so minuscule, so tiny, so...helpless. Was this really the kid that would become Spider-Man?

Baby-Peter looked too small to be healthy. He flailed his little arms angrily, swatting away the doctor that tried to run some tests on him. His skin looked a sickly yellow. He opened his tiny mouth, revealing toothless gums, and let out a wail. Mary flinched and clasped Richard's hand.

"He'll be okay," Richard consoled her, staring down at his new son.

Peter looked in the hallway, which had a sign at the end that read NICU. He shivered.

His parents watched him for a few more moments. Richard then told Mary that she needed her rest and wheeled her towards the elevator.

The dream gave a little hiccup, of sorts, and he was now viewing what he vaguely recognized, mostly from photos and muddled memory, as his parents' living room. Richard was on the couch and Mary was by the front door, having apparently let someone in.

He didn't recognize the woman from his memory, but he knew instantly from May's description that she was the infamous Great-Auntie Bertha. May had told him all about the nasty things she'd said and done to everyone, and Peter wondered why Mary had invited her. Then it occurred to him that she may have invited herself, as she usually did in May's stories.

She was a large woman with pursed lips and squinty eyes that darted around the room, taking in every speck of dust and dirt. Peter decided that he agreed with his aunt--he didn't like this lady.