IronDad One Shots // IronDad And SpiderSon

Robbery

It had been about eleven months since the death of Uncle Ben. May had been doing quite well, considering the fact that she had lost the love of her life in such a cruel way.

She was starting to eat healthier meals in more normal hours, rather than a cereal bar at two in the morning. She had began to shower regularly again, and occupy her time that she would usually spend with her husband on different side jobs, liking to keep busy and have a little bit of money on the side.

Although she considered herself to be healing from her long mourning phase, it didn't take much for her to burst into tears at any given moment. The small apartment that she shared with her nephew was full with reminders, and she wasn't the only victim; said nephew, Peter, wasn't doing any better from when Ben had died - which worried his aunt.

May had wanted to bring the boy to therapy. She knew when Ben had been shot, Peter had cradled him in his arms, the cold wind of New York bristling their skin, forced to watch the life drain from his uncle's eyes. She knew that along with his parents, her brother and sister in-law, another name to add to a list of dead wasn't good for the young child's mental health. But she guessed living in a house with constant reminders of what they no longer have wasn't helping at all.

So with what money she had scraped together from every side job over the eleven months, she visited the Estate Agents as soon as she could and purchased a small suburban house in a small village.

She let Peter decorate his room however he wanted, keeping her room the same as it had been before, and boxing up each memory of Ben she had, placing them inside her room and everywhere else she felt needed to be, insisting to Peter that he could go inside of her room whenever he felt like he missed Ben.

Having a shared apartment for three was always a bit cramped - you couldn't turn the corner without bumping into someone or something, so having a brand new house with considerably larger rooms excited the duo, making them run around each room on the first night, just completely in love with all of the extra space that they would soon adjust to.

When they had moved, May had noticed the major improvement on Peter's health. He was definitely taking better care with himself, washing more often, eating more, clearing the bags from under his eyes. She smiled to him, and he (thank the lord) smiled back every time. Them moving might have been one of May's best ideas yet.

But there was only one downside to the new neighborhood. Peter couldn't swing out from his window in his suit unnoticed, he had to walk down several sketchy alleyways to quickly change before shooting and flying away. There was always someone around in the neighborhood that would no doubt see him crawling out of his window and report it to CNN, where his identity would be revealed and his family forever put in danger.

But Peter didn't seem to mind the sketchy allyways. So they soon before his changing room that was slightly breezier than his bedroom.

When he would come home, Aunt May would be waiting with a cup of jasmine tea and a first aid kit, where she would check for any major wounds, and put themed sticky plaster (that would fall off by morning) over the small cuts. It was a routine that they quickly got used to.

-.-

One night, May was holding Peter's shoulder still as she wiped an antiseptic wipe over a scratch mark that looked like it was scabbing over already. Peter was rambling about a cat, muttering about how they were evil and knifing, whilst shaking his head and sticking out his tongue to show his distaste. May rolled her eyes most of the time, commenting on how he would probably risk his life in a burning building to save a cat if he could.

Suddenly, Peter's voice stopped short, and he held up a finger to make sure May didn't say anything either. He turned to her, a look of terror and concern washed his features, his aunt mirroring.

"I think someone's in the house," he whispered, as quietly as he could whilst still allowing May to hear. Her eyes circled in alarm, and she reached down the cushions of the couch she was sitting on, surfacing with a long pair of scissors.

"Uh, what?" He raised his eyebrow, how long had those been there? He shook his head, focusing more on the extra heartbeat in May's room. "Go to the bathroom and hide. I'll tell you when to come back out."

"Not a chance," she replied firmly. Peter sighed in annoyance, before picking himself off of the scatter pillows that he always preferred to sit on and slowly making his way to his aunt's bedroom, making sure to tread lightly for less noise.

He cautiously placed a hand on her handle, gradually turning it before forcefully opening the door. There, was a man rifling through what had to be May's jewelry box, picking up random beads and chains and stuffing it into his pockets.

The robber gasped and attempted to run past Peter, the fast process almost making the teen's head spin. Peter went after him, shooting out his leg and tripping the man up. But the guy was fast, picking himself up before Peter could get close enough and tearing down the halls of their new house, pushing tables and bookshelves that lined the walls to the fooor, trying to slow Peter down.

Only that just made the teen more angry. He opted to crawling on the walls to avoid their belongings being destroyed more, thankful that the robber wasn't turning around to see an unmasked Spider-Man. This man had just broken into their house, stole from his struggling aunt, and now destroyed just about every ornament that they had collected and inherited over the years. This man was going away for a long time if Peter can help it.

He flipped from the ceiling to the floor as the intruder threw open the front door and ran out to the empty darkness of the street. The two raced down the roads, climbing onto trash cans and jumping over hedges. The situation was a painful reminder to the Toomes situation a few months ago.

Finally catching up to him, Peter tackled him to the muddy floor of one his neighbors backyards, gripping the thief's wrist and pinned them to his back forcefully. He watched dutifully as his aunt lowered herself from the untreated hedge, having no idea that she was following but grateful that she had her phone in hand (paired with the long sewing scissors of course). He could hear the operators voice through the small speakers from the phone and felt relief of the knowledge that the authorities were on their way.

Aunt May busied herself with finding somethings strong and durable to keep the man restrained from the stranger's backyard, as she knew that Peter already had some injuries that still needed treatment - the thrilling chase doing no good to his healing body.

After the petty criminal was taken care of, and the police had wrapped up all of their interviews and reports, May sat her nephew down back into the thick cushion and checked him over quickly for any open wounds. Once she was satisfied, she pulled him into a loving hug.

"You were incredible, Pete," she said as she planted a kiss on his unruly curls. "Sometimes I forget how badass you are. You're the greatest kid anyone could ever ask for and I'm so lucky to call you my nephew." Peter then broke into laughter as she tickled behind his ear, a weird but effective tickle spot.

"I larb you, sweetie."

"Larb you too, May."

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That took so long for real. Decode in comments 🙃