I Was Joking

If I Could Begin To Be

The funny thing was, that day had started off fine enough. Peter had woken up to a clear sky and the smell of bacon coming from the kitchen. It was Saturday, which was always nice. He didn't have any homework to do, so his schedule was clear. It was a nice day.

Until he remembered the fact that as of that say, 13 years ago, Mary and Richard Parker were killed in a plane crash. Leaving little Peter Benjamin Parker under the care of his aunt and uncle for the rest of his life. Yeah, that may be a bit of a setoff.

Thankfully, the crash happened so long ago, the teen could just sigh and treat the day like any other Saturday at this point. And he tried to do that with that day, he really did. Wasn't his fault Parker luck had other plans.

The day had started off fine enough. Peter was helping organize some legal documents while looking for his social security card. Birth certificates, guardianship papers, things like that. It was a little confusing to see a letter in neat cursive handwriting addressed to "Sunshine" amongst said papers, especially close to his parents will. So confusing, Peter became curious. The teen opened the letter carefully, and started reading.

'To my little sunshine,

Happy 18th birthday.'

Oh, he's not supposed to read this yet. Whoops. Oh well.

'If you're reading this, than that means that Richard and I didn't get to see it with you. Which is...unsettling, I'm sure, and unfortunate, but also not uncommon in our line of work. I have complete faith in May and Ben, though. They're lovely people who will take great care of you.

That's...not the purpose of this letter though.

You see, while I try to make myself an honest woman, there are some things I have done that are difficult, if not dangerous, to explain. Secrets I've kept hidden, that I'm going to tell you now in the hopes that you'll take this with a mature heart and maybe not hate me afterwards.

I guess the first would be what I meant by work. I know we've been staged as scientists, but in truth, Richard and I are agents. For the CIA.'

Peter blinked for a moment in shock. Out of all the things he expected, that was absolutely not one of them.

'I hope you understand why we kept this a secret. It was wholeheartedly for your own protection. God help if one of our enemies found out about you. Chances are, our true cause of death was from an unsuccessful mission. At least I would hope so, because that'd be way cooler than dying from something stupid. I probably just jinxed myself.

There's...something else, too. I'm going to assume you know where babies come from, because otherwise you should probably ask Ben and May before continuing.

Richard isn't your father.'

Uh, a little late to the party much?

'I know, it may seem confusing, but I mean that he's not your biological father. He... hasn't realized at the time this was being written.

It currently takes place as just about the absolute stupidest thing I've ever done. Yes, it's beaten that time I thought it'd be fun to jump out of a moving helicopter to get a cat out of a tree. (To be fair, the cat was adorable). It was a solo mission, a little too much to drink, and a stupid green cocktail dress I'm sure I've burned into the ground by now.

But don't take that the wrong way. Not one nickel, not one second, not for all the Girl Scout cookies in the world would I ever regret bringing you into the world and being your mother. And Richard feels the same way. You're going to do great things, I'm sure of it.

I'm sure comes the question, who is your father then? I'm not sure if Tony has changed over the years; he seems like he never will, but life is full of surprises. Still. If you feel obligated to contact him, then don't let anyone stop you. But don't get your hopes up either.

I'm sorry to have shared so many rather large secrets, Peter. Especially on a day you should be celebrating. I just felt that at this age...you should know.

Happy birthday again, my little sunshine. I love you, Richard loves you and we always will.'

When reading the letter, he heard, in the back of his head, a voice that he imagined was long forgotten. Once he was done, the teen got up and slowly put the letter back into the envelope. He left his room, calling out to May about going on a walk before slipping out of the apartment building.

The sky was cloudy. The air smelled of coming rain. Peter put on his PMJ music and tried to not think too much of it as he got a train ticket.

Once he got off, the footsteps that followed became like muscle memory; brain off and feet on auto-pilot. The grass he always thought was too soft for a graveyard brought up the thought again as he sat in front of the tombstone of Richard and Mary Parker.

"Hey Momma. Hey Dada.", he started with a sigh. "Sorry, I'm...really particular about names now. Every one gets a special one. And I'm...sorry I gave yours away. But Mom and Dad are taking great care of me. And Morgan. Yeah, I'm a big brother! It's amazing.", he rambled, trying to think of the last time he's come here and done this instead of repressing his grief and carrying on with his day.

"I'm sorry I opened the letter early. Curiosity got the best of me. Again.", Peter remarked with a chuckle and an eye roll. "May can attest, that's always been one of my worst habits.

She's doing good, by the way. Tell Ben that, if you can. You were right to trust me with her. I couldn't have asked for a better aunt."

The teen stared at the tombstone before inching a little closer. "I don't hate you. I never could. Frankly, I'm not sure what to think right now. But the dice was in our favor for once, it seems. He really has changed from when you met him."

A spare tear left his eye. God, what was he even crying over? "I still think about what life might be like, if you came home. I know I shouldn't, because dwelling in the past is unhealthy and all that jazz, but there are times I wake up in the morning, or watch May or Mom and Dad and picture you. It's always idealistic; best way to describe it would be like the first song from Annie. But still.

The more time passes, the less I remember you. And I hate it. I hate that I don't remember what you look like, or what songs you would put me to sleep with, or the fact that I was 'Sunshine' to you. I...just..." Some more tears slipped, fittingly appropriate with the occasional raindrop hitting his jacket. But the storm on the outside never got worse than that.

The storm on the inside, on the other hand, was a hurricane. A tornado of thoughts and emotions whipping round and round as Peter Benjamin Parker cried over his biological mother and stepfather for the first time in five years. As the teen just held himself, mentally draining as his swirling mind was being dumped out for the world to see. "Just to see you again. Just to hear you again. Is that too much to ask?", he whispered into the grass.

Once his mind was drained and calm again, Peter stood up. He stared at the stone with thought, blinking and wiping away any evidence of tears. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long to see you.", Peter muttered an apology before mumbling as loud as he could get with his heart in his throat, "Bye. I love you."

He wandered around the neighborhood, spending a couple of hours with Ned when they bumped into each other; Ned was always a good friend to him. He didn't get home until right before the sun set and the lightning started cracking.

"Hey sweetie.", May greeted, folding some laundry. "Getting pretty bad out there, huh?", the woman asked after the thunder rumbled lowly. Peter shrugged, moving to help her. "Just started." She nodded in agreement, looking back down. The two worked in silence before she spoke again. "Did you want to say something?"

The teen stared at her for a moment before finding the floor interesting. "'ts stupid."

"I highly doubt it.", his aunt countered, pulling him in. Her nephew took the embrace, staring off before breathing out a chuckle. "It's just...today. It's been a whole mess." "I know. It can be like that sometimes." "And...in a dark way...it's kinda funny.

It started off so well, too."