I'm Just Human

Chapter Twenty

"Am I allowed to have this?" Peter asks. It's not the best way to ask this, but he desperately needs permission. He needs to know that this is okay.

May smiles. "I remember when I first got you. You were little and happy with the biggest smile and an even bigger heart. But the only thing you cared about when you got here was your dad. All you wanted was to make sure your dad was okay. It would be the first thing out of your mouth when you'd wake up and the last when you'd go to bed. I had to endure three years of you asking over and over again for your Dad and Mister Steve and Aunt Carol and Uncle Rhodey and Miss Tessa. The asking stopped being as frequent after the first couple years, but you'd still ask occasionally."

"But that doesn't really answer my question. I love you, May, and I don't want-"

"You're my kid, Peter, all I want is for you to be happy. If you'd be happier staying with Tony at the tower and only visiting me on Christmas, I'd learn to live with it. Your happiness is my number one priority, just as it's Tony's number one priority. You're allowed to have whatever you want to have."

And sure, that's exactly what Peter needed to hear, but it still isn't permission. It isn't enough.

Setting the dishes down on the counter, she faces Peter properly. "I love you and Tony loves you, and I know you love both of us. You're allowed to want anything."

"What if I want everything?" Peter asks quietly, watching his aunt's expression carefully.

"Then we'll make it work, honey."

*

On the way home from school- Peter's still confused on what he's supposed to call home now. He's Tony's kid biologically, but that doesn't make him any less of May's kid. May was the one who raised him for ten years. Tony only really got five. But on the other hand, it's not really a competition- Peter thinks.

He thinks about Uncle Ben and his always kind smiles and his jokes and the quiet tone he'd take when talking about anything serious. He thinks about the nights Ben would take him up to the apartment's roof to point out the constellations in the sky and give him history lessons and talk about anything and everything.

He thinks about Aunt May and her terrible cooking and her warm hugs and the smell of roses whenever she wears her favourite perfumes. He thinks about her teaching him how to dance and how to tie a tie and how to fix a broken sink. About her book collection and her love of antiques and her gold-framed glasses and messy buns, of her scented candles and her nursing job, always wanting to help those around her.

He thinks about Tessa, a woman he only knew for a couple months. Not very well. He remembers Tessa liked white wine more than red and how her and Carol used to fight about which was better. She was better at cooking than the majority of the family, better than chicken nuggets and stir-fry's, at least. Her enjoyment when playing with Legos or imaginative games with him or when spending time with the adults. The easy way she fit in with the family.

He thinks about Steve, the man that snuck his way into their little family with ease. The man that may have well been Peter's stepfather, at least he would've been had things worked out. Steve who used to make him breakfasts whenever Tony didn't wake up early enough, who used to make him lunches if Tony was busy, who used to take over all of Tony's jobs whenever it was a Bad Day. (Peter remembers more Bad Days than Good Days in his childhood.)

He thinks about Aunt Carol and her intelligence, always ready to help him out with getting ahead in maths and sciences if Tony was busy, but she also took over teaching him all the subjects Tony wasn't that good at. How she was always there to teach him and broaden his knowledge on more than the objective subjects. Her red wine and loud laughter to match her loud voice, already prepared to call anyone out on anything. Her big dreams quietly shared in the dead of night.