Peter Parker thought he could catch a break.
After being bitten by a radioactive spider, losing his aunt and uncle, and nearly dying after an attack from an evil technology company, he had hoped he could spend some time with his new family. But that...
The man opened the off-white garage door, which was decorated in multi-colored marks from various attacks from his son's toys, and tossed his keys to the cluttered countertop. He took off his Stark Industries cap, letting his long brown hair spill free. His wife awaited him from where she slaved over the sizzling stove. He took several confident strides over to her and planted a kiss on her forehead, brushing away the golden hair stuck to her forehead from the steam that billowed out of the pot. His hand gently brushed over her swollen belly, resting there protectively for an extra moment or two.
"Dada!" a burbling voice giggled from the woman's hip. The toddler stretched out his pudgy brown arms and made grabbing motions for his father, who scooped him up by the armpits and spun him around. They both laughed as the father blew raspberries on the baby's stomach.
As the mother's timer went off, a knock sounded at the door. The father and son paused their game for a moment, the son's black curls remaining suspended in midair, then took hesitant steps to the door. They hadn't ordered anything, and they certainly weren't expecting any company.
The husband and wife shared a nervous glance as they went to turn the handle. Could it have been someone from their past? Yes, they'd given up their other lives for the sake of starting their family, but that didn't mean their enemies had forgotten about them.
When the door swung open, they were both surprised to see an unfamiliar young man standing there. A dark blue, red, and white striped toboggan was tugged over chocolate brown curls and he had nervous eyes that matched. There were pale pink patches mostly on the right side of his face, as if he had been burned a long time ago.
His breath fogged in front of his face in the cold. In his gloved hands he clutched a small box, carefully tied with twine. He handed it to the woman, who cautiously peered inside. It was a note, a small bag of cookies, and some kind of baby toy still with the packaging on it. And a purple oragami flower.
"Hi," he croaked anxiously, scuffing his blue Vans on their cracked cement front steps. "I'm--I'm Peter. Peter Parker."
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