Archive of Our Own

“Did you grab the overnight bags? And the zucchini bread, too- I did ask you to grab the zucchini bread didn’t I? I can’t remember. Hell, I would forget my head if it wasn’t attached to my neck. I think I did? Oh, and you put the presents in the trunk already, right? We don’t want a repeat of last year, God, that was a disaster. We don’t want any more surprise blizzards putting Christmas back a day because we forgot the presents and we can’t get to the house to grab them. Shi- Shoot! Did we call Carol? She’s still bringing the extra plates isn’t she?”

Mom hits Dad with some rapid fire questions as soon as he’s sat down in the front seat of the car. It doesn’t surprise Peter because Mom is always asking questions when they have to go somewhere, but for some reason it surprises Dad. He freezes halfway through shutting the door, looking out the big window as he tries to come up with an answer.

“Uhh…”

Mom’s face scrunches up, focusing her attention on him and peeking over the backseat’s car door. “Richard…”

“I know, I know,” Dad is already hopping out of the car, an apologetic grin on his face. “I’m sorry, Love, I got distracted.”

“You mean you forgot because for some reason you told everyone at the station you’d deliver them a tree today of all days-”

“For the Christmas spirit!”

“It’s Christmas Eve, Richard, they won’t even be at the station to enjoy a tree, they’ll be out saving the lives of the many idiots who decided to do that turkey thing- Why they can’t just have a regular turkey is beyond me-”

“What’s wrong with a little bit of experimentation?” Dad walks around the car door to lean on the car next to Mom, giving her a big cheesy smile and a wink. Mom fusses with pulling her wavy hair out of her face again, her hair tie not really working to her benefit. “You sound like a hypocrite.”

“Experimentation should be left to professionals, not drunk New Yorkers.”

“At the presentation you said differently.” Dad points out. “Didn’t she, Pete?”

“Yeah!” Peter agrees.

“You weren’t even there.” Mom reminds Peter.

“Yes I was!” Actually, he’s not sure. But he’s gotta die on this hill now until proven otherwise.

“No you were not,” Mom sighs. “You were at Ben and May’s. Remember, you got to go see the firetrucks with Ben.”

“Oh.” He does in fact remember that. “I like firetrucks. They make a big noise and have a hose to hit people with.”

“Goober.” Mom snickers at him, but stops half through a chuckle to ask, “Wait who told you that you can hit people with hoses?”

“Probably Ben.” Dad answers for him, and he’s right because Uncle Ben told him one of the rookies hit someone with the big hose and Peter still wants to see it. “Moving past that: You told all of Peter’s future peers-” Dad starts, but Mom interrupts him.

“They are several years older than him, he’s not even in daycare yet. They won’t even be in the same school at any point.”

“That’s close enough, they’re in the same generation.” Dad argues, crossing his arms. “You told them that anybody can run an experiment.” He continues, changing his voice to be a little higher like how Mom answers her work phone. “‘All you need is a question and the drive to answer it!’”

“And that was only slightly a fib because they were in elementary and I was not going to explain ethic laws to a group of 5th graders.” Mom deadpans, at which Dad chuckles. Mom bounces Peter on her hip to get a better grip, using one hand to figure out how to get the car seat back to where it’s supposed to be. For some reason. Peter thinks she should just forget the thing altogether, they would both be happy about that. “And that’s not the point! You offered up the car on a whim and now we’re going to be late.”

“I was doing a good deed, Ales. They loved their tree!” Dad reaches into the car to take over with the car seat. Curses, Peter thinks. He was betting on Mom not figuring it out. “They were all like, ‘Thanks, Richard, for saving Christmas! We would have been so sad without our pretty lights and fake ornaments!” And I said “Well of course I came to help, you don’t have to thank me.”

“Did you also add in a jab that Ben is getting too old to get the tree for them?”

“I’m a civilized human being, Ales.” Dad tuts at her. Then he adds, “But I’m a little brother first. Of course I did.”

“He’s only 42, you’re going to give him a complex. Or convince everyone he needs to retire.”

“42 is ancient in firefighter years. He’s going to be- this damned car seat-” Dad climbs into the car to wrestle with the contraption. Peter thinks he should break it. “Anyways, he’s going to be retiring before Peter’s even in middle school.”

“Still, he’s not old. He’s middle aged.”

“He’s the one who decided to go prematurely gray. If he doesn’t want me to call him old, maybe he shouldn’t be old.”

“I can’t wait for Ben to make fun of you when you start going gray.”

“Yeah, going being the key word.” Dad points at her for emphasis. “He’s nearly fully gray. He could play Santa Claus.”

“Play?” Peter asks. Dad bonks his head on the top of the car in his effort to turn to Peter very quickly.

“Richard…” Mom warns for some reason.

“Like when you pretend to be Captain America.” Dad laughs nervously. “Ben would pretend to be Santa Claus, but he’s not actually Santa Claus, because Santa Claus is a real person who exists and is at the North Pole preparing for his big trip tonight.”

“Nice save, Parker.” Mom sounds like she’s laughing, but she coughs. Dad pouts at her, but he returns to struggling with the car seat. “Anywho, I can’t imagine who in Ben’s life would give him a full head of gray hair by the time he’s 40…” Mom wonders aloud, thinking. “Hm, possibly a man who hasn’t stopped doing circus tricks in dangerous areas. What do you think, Peter?”

“Are Captain America and Santa Claus friends?” Is what Peter is thinking.

“Oh, um. Maybe! I think they’d get along.” Mom replies.

The seat clicks into place after a moment of crunching noises that doesn’t sound like the car seat should be making. “Aha!” Dad claps his hands and presses a kiss to Mom’s cheek as he climbs out of the car. “Look, see? I’m full of good deeds. I don’t know about you, but I actually plan to stay on Santa’s nice list this year.”

“That’s not what you said last-”

“Hey! Little ears!” Dad covers Peter’s ears with both his hands.

“I doubt he’d be able to understand that.”

“I can still hear!” Peter points out. Dad releases his ears and shoots Mom a Look.

“Kids are little sponges, remember? He copies, like, everything we do. We can’t have him making jokes like that!”

“Okay, okay, Mr. Nice.” Mom relents with a grin. Dad brushes her hair behind her ear for her and gives her another kiss. Mom huffs, grabbing his face with her free hand and stopping Dad from giving a third. She smiles prettily (Mom is always pretty) and Dad goes quiet, batting his eyelashes at her.

“Honey, go get our stuff before we forget it all, please.”

“Yes ma’am!” Dad grabs his keys out of his pants pockets, then turns on his heel to hurry back towards the steps of their apartment.

Mom sighs, watching him go with a fond smile before turning back to the car. As she sets the Peter Bag into the car (a bag full of everything Peter needs, which is different from his backpack, and Dad calls it that to tease Mom), Peter watches Dad walk down the path towards the apartment. Dad peeks over his shoulder, and upon noticing that Peter is watching, he springs into a quick hop to click his heels together, sticking the landing.

Peter giggles. Mom pinches his cheek softly to get his attention.

“Now let’s get you situated, yeah, Bambino?”

“Or not.” Peter tries. Mom scoffs and shakes her head.

“Nice attempt, kid, but I call the shots until you’re at least in your forties. And Mama says you have to sit in the car seat. Safety first.”

“I’m four hundred years old.” Peter argues. Hundreds are the big numbers.

“Funny, I remember you being a baby three years ago.” Mom raises her brow at him.

“I grow super, super, super fast.” Peter raises both his arms above his head, above Mom’s, trying to reach the clouds above them all. “I’m gonna be this tall soon. Taller than Tata!”

Mom presses her forehead against Peter’s and her hair tickles his cheeks. Mom makes a silly face and tickles his side, and try as he might not to, Peter’s arms drop and tuck into himself, a peal of laughter escaping him. Mom dips him to the side and this grants her another loud laugh from Peter.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna be my baby forever and ever. No matter how tall or how old you get.”

She rights Peter upwards and checks his face. She puts one hand over Peter’s cheek, rubbing her thumb on his cold skin. He’s wearing a long sleeve shirt and his new reindeer boots, but it’s still very chilly outside. It’s been snowing all day! Peter wants to play in it, but Mom said no.

“Okay, well, if you don’t want to sit in the car seat, then I guess Zitka and Blankie will be all by themselves in the nice warm car.”

“What?” Peter turns to look at the car. He didn’t remember dropping Zitka, but Mom reaches down to the car floor and picks up the stuffed elephant, Peter’s best friend. She just got hand washed by Aunt May in preparation for the Christmas party tonight- she has to look her best, Peter insisted. Aunt May crocheted Zitka a red sweater and an elf hat so she would be festive as well. Luckily, it matches the sewed patches of her ear where she got ripped a few months ago and Aunt May fixed it.

“Oh, yeah, Zitka always sits in the car seat no problem.” Mom informs him, setting Zitka down in Peter’s car seat and starting to buckle her up. “She’ll be sad that you don’t want to sit with her, but I guess she’ll have to deal with it. Since you’re four hundred years old and don’t want to anymore.”

Zitka does look sad, all by her lonesome like that… Peter doesn’t go anywhere without her, and that’s because Zitka would get very sad if he wasn’t there to protect her. Peter reaches out for the toy, but Mom prevents him from squirming his way out of her arms.

“Whoa, Peter, be careful, baby-”

“I’m not too old!” Peter proclaims.

Mom smiles and unclips the seat with more precision than Peter’s seen her use before. He finds himself being sat in the seat and buckled in, Zitka in his arms, before he can even blink. Peter squints at her, suspicious, as she kisses his forehead and unzips the Peter Bag to grab Blankie from inside.

“That’s my sweet boy.” Mom coos as she tucks Peter in with Blankie. She ruffles his hair when she’s done and closes the door.

…Despite potential treachery afoot, it is very warm inside the car, the opposite of outside. Which is nice. Peter’s cheeks and nose feel a little tingly as they warm up. While he waits in the stupid car seat, Peter swings his feet up and down, moving Zitka’s ears like Dumbo’s do. He wonders if Zitka could fly if she wanted to. Peter thinks he’d like to fly too. Then he could fly places instead of sitting in the dumb dumb car seat.

Peter looks up at the sound of Dad returning. He’s carrying Mom and Dad’s bag over his right shoulder, the very heavy present bag over his left shoulder, and he balances five packages of zucchini bread in his arms like a pro. Mom grabs the zucchini bread from him and their laughter is muffled by the car door and the distance. As Dad goes to the back to put their bags in the trunk, Mom goes to open the backseat’s car door again to set the bread down.

It doesn’t open.

Mom tries again. Curious, Peter tilts his head and watches her. She frowns at the door but gives up on it, instead attempting to open the front seat door again. When that doesn’t work either, Mom’s face scrunches up in confusion. Mom asks Dad, “Can you hand me the keys?” and tries the front seat door one more time. The trunk closes and Dad comes around, patting his pockets.

Dad pauses his patting, only pulling out a wallet.

Both their eyes go wide. Their voices go hushed so Peter can’t hear, but after a moment their conversation gets more animated. Peter hears Mom ask something about if the door is locked, and Dad sprints back towards the apartment. Mom tries the door again, but finds no more success than the last few times. Mom smiles through the window, raising her voice to ask, “You okay, Peter?”

“Yup!” He grins back. He gives her a big old thumbs up.

“That’s good, that’s good.” Mom is tapping her foot, looking down the hall where Dad ran off. After a minute of quiet between them, where Peter is trying to figure out what’s going on, Mom gets a call. When she goes to grab her phone out of her pocket, the multiples of zucchini loafs drop out of her arms and hit the ground. Mom lets out a word she told Peter to not repeat ever and answers the call, using her head to hold the phone up while bending down to grab the loaves she dropped.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, we’ll just call Nancy.” Mom assures. Then after a beat, “What do you mean she’s in Mexico? She’s 93 and her family is in Canada.” Mom then groans while attempting to put the bread on the car. “Of course that spiteful old bat got up the energy and went on a cruise right now. I- Ugh, Richard, I can call her that! She’s nice to you because you’re a hot young man, she asked me the other day if I really should be eating dessert when I still have baby weight to lose.”

Peter agrees with Mom that Nancy is not very nice. He doesn’t know why being a ‘landlord’ makes anyone ‘lose all common decency’ as Mom put it once, but he does know that she won’t let Peter have a dog because of her mean old people rules. Down with Nancy, Peter thinks. Which is why the one time he went over to her office, he flushed a bunch of pencils down the toilet when Mom wasn’t looking.

Mom barks out a surprised laugh. “Honey, I know you still have it in you, but we live on the third floor. There’s another way to get the car unlocked.” Mom snorts after a beat of quiet. “It’s not breaking in if it’s our own car, and you know, you were just suggesting you climb through the window. I’ve done it before, so it’s not like it won’t work.”

“Tata’s climbing without me!?” Peter yells just to make sure she can hear her.

Mom slowly turns towards Peter, wary, though Peter doesn’t know why. She laughs. “No, Peter, Tata would never climb without anyone there to catch him if he fell. You know, safety is important.”

She had emphasized that last part to the phone, not Peter. Mom has said that a lot since she walked in on Peter trying to climb the closet shelves. She didn’t understand when Peter said it was his very super cool rock climbing game he made at home because Dad couldn’t bring him rock climbing all the time.

“Oh my god, Richard, I’ll just break the window!” Mom starts pacing in front of the car door. “Please stop calling the car-“ Mom huffs again. “Fine. I won’t break Alberta Jr. Your other child. Maybe I should call Ben-” A beat of silence. “He will not lord this over your head if you call.”

Peter looks around the slightly messy and pretty old car. He might be only four hundred years old and not know a lot of stuff yet, but he does have some sense of what’s going on. The car doors won’t open, and Mom and Dad need his help. It’s a good thing he knows just what to do.

Mom and Dad are usually the ones who get to do all kinds of super cool things, not Peter. That’s because he’s young and his hands don’t quite work right and he can’t reach door handles without help yet. Meanwhile, Mom and Dad have all those things and more. They both know how to read, for starters. And they can lift heavy objects and dance without falling over and know how to operate a phone. They both have very important jobs working for very important people, helping everyone with their seemingly infinite amount of knowledge and skills. They had told him the very big fancy word for what they do, but Peter already knows what it is.

They’re knights!

Grandma had got him a lot of books for his birthday last year, many of which Peter has made Mom read to him every night since he got them. All the other books Peter’s ever had were books about bugs and dinosaurs and ballet and space and stuff, so the new additions were very welcome. Knights are people who wear a uniform, who go out on quests in order to help people, and they’re away from home a lot but that’s okay because everyone is super proud of them. They also work for bosses, which Peter thinks is another word for a King or Queen. Ben is a knight who fights fires, and that’s why they call him a firefighter. And Mom and Dad are knights that use magic, which is just another word for science.

Which means one day, Peter’s gonna be a knight too. He’s been preparing himself for this ever since he found out what it is that Mom and Dad do. Part of it means getting good at climbing and handstands and lifting heavy stuff and figuring out how hands work, and the other part is paying as much attention to everything as he can.

Like how to undo this stupid awful ugly car seat.

Mom is still talking outside, but Peter is entirely focused on his mission. It takes a lot of maneuvering because of his small hands, but he manages to unclip the belts one by one. Upon freeing himself from the confines of his prison hell, Peter makes sure to stuff Zitka into his shirt. As his squire, it’s important that she’s there. But she has very little legs and also can’t seem to move without Peter helping her. Hence, shirt, ala kangaroo style.

From there, it’s smooth sailing. Peter wiggles out of the wretched seat and onto the floor, climbs over that middle bump thingy between Mom and Dad’s seats that opens and closes… and…

Actually, it wouldn’t hurt to figure out what’s inside this darn thing, since he’s already here. He’s never been able to figure it out. Mom pulls out napkins, Dad will pull out papers, or even hidden snacks they think Peter won’t notice. One time they pulled out a bunch of rubber bands, and wouldn’t give Peter one. He’s been dying to know what else they keep inside it, away from Peter.

He pulls himself fully over the bump, carefully stepping onto the passenger seat. He kneels and pulls Zitka out of his shirt, setting her down nicely next to him. Then, he puts his hands forward and leans down, looking underneath the top part to check out what it looks like underneath. There’s a little piece under there that looks like it wiggles, slightly off center. There’s also a sticker with a ballerina on it. That’s not important.

Sure enough, when Peter presses the slightly off center part, it moves. Which must mean that this is how to get it open. How do Mom and Dad do it?

Peter sits upright again, putting his back to the seat to mimic how Mom and Dad sit. He reaches out with one hand like they do, curling his fingers underneath the top part and pressing the button. It pops open with a big click and Peter revels in his pure delight, unable to hold back his smile. Secret compartment, here he comes!

He peeks into the space, curious as ever. Maybe there’s more rubber bands and Peter can finally be better than everyone because he has a rubber band. The first thing he finds are a bunch of gum wrappers. Gross. He swipes them away, shifting through the rest of the trash. Notably, there’s an old fast food bag, which tells Peter that at some point, he was not privy to whatever food whichever parent was hiding. Incredibly rude of them. There’s also an invite to that fun art thingy that they went to a few weeks ago (Peter loves going to Aunt May’s community house! House? No, Mom calls it something else. Senter?). He pulls that out, trying to read it like Dad did when they got it.

Hm… He squints at the fuzzy words, hoping it’ll help.

“Nope.” Peter shrugs. Alas, he still can’t read. One day he’ll get it!

He does recognize Mister Damian’s face, though, in one of the pictures at the top. He was one of the artists that showed Peter all the drawings he did of animals.

Peter throws the invitation over his shoulder. That’s last week’s news, and today’s many items of trash hidden away in the compartment. Where’s all the good stuff? He thought they’d have more rubber bands, but apparently not!

Alas, he sees nothing of worth, nothing fun to keep in his pockets. Secret compartments are way more lame that he thought they’d be.

He flops down in the giant passenger seat, slumping down with his arms crossed. He looks around the front area of the car, scrutinizing all that he can see. Peter’s never been allowed up here unless he’s just chilling with Uncle Ben and they’re not going anywhere. Even then, it’s never their car, only Uncle Ben’s. So this is a forbidden zone.

It’s… big. But otherwise, not as cool as Peter thought it would be, either. There’s a stick to his left just like in Uncle Ben’s car, that Uncle Ben taught him to never touch if Peter did get up here in a car. There’s a bunch of scribbles on the ceiling and dashboard, accompanied by a boatload of stickers. Peter knows about that. Everyone that enters the car gets to sign their name, and Dad collects stickers to “let her feel pretty.” This is nothing new and nothing grand, so Peter turns his attention to the radio.

Oh, now this has merit.

He turns to his elephant companion. “Whatcha wanna listen’ to, Zitka?”

“Smooooooth Jazz! CD101.9,” Zitka sings back. Or at least she tries. Peter knows what she means so he sings it for her.

Peter scrambles to his knees, leaning over to start touching the buttons and dials. He thinks the big buttons are when Mom and Dad don’t like songs anymore because they’re lame and uncool, and the dials make it get louder or quieter? He purses his lips in thought as he presses through the numbers 1 through…. 6.

Yeah, Peter knows his numbers. He’s cool like that.

At first he doesn’t know if he’s doing anything. But then he hears the fizzle of static when he presses number 6. He presses his ear closer to the radio speaker. He presses number one again and music filters through, just very, very quietly. So Peter did something right! He looks for the right dial to turn the volume up.

Oop. Nope. Peter feels the air from the heaters slowly stop blasting in his face. He reaches for the other dial and this time, he gets a reward for his efforts.

“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock, jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring-” The song gets louder and louder as Peter turns it up. He whoops with his success, putting his hands in the air like Dad does when he does a bunch of his cool gym-tastic tricks.

He presses through all of the buttons, but none of radio stations are his favorite, CD101.9. It’s a huge bummer, but he doesn’t know how the radio works. Maybe it can only come on at one point of the day. Yeah, that makes sense. He puts the radio back on station one. He doesn’t really like Jingle Bell Rock (he’s hearing it way too much these days) but it’ll do for now.

Hm, what else can Peter find up here? There’s probably a whole lot more that he hasn’t figured out yet. Now’s the time, since Mom and Dad won’t let him explore once he unlocks the car for them. He loves them, but they can be buzzkills sometimes. He turns to the driver’s seat, but recalls Uncle Ben being so serious about never ever going there, either, and he decides he’d better not. Uncle Ben knows everything.

Which leaves the funny box that Dad digs through sometimes. It’s in front of him, next to the radio. What did Dad call it? The glove box? What a silly name. Cars don’t have anywhere to wear gloves. Maybe on the mirrors? But then they’d just fly in the wind…

Peter scoots to the edge of the seat to try and figure out how that opens, too. It’s got another buttony thingy like the secret compartment had. Maybe it won’t be so hard to figure out, now that he knows the trick to it. Peter tries for a few seconds by pushing it down, but it doesn’t budge. Maybe… if not down, then up?

Peter pulls on the side. It doesn’t go. He pulls harder and harder and then- pop!

He teeters backwards, but catches himself before he can fall. He blinks at the open glove box,the light twinkling at him. “Zitka, you saw that?” Zitka definitely nods along, as excited as Peter is.

Peter grabs a handful of boring papers on the top. He squints at a couple of them in his hands… Nope, still can’t read.

One looks like a map. Dad loves that thing, and Mom only tolerates it. Peter knows what a map is because Mom and Dad put a couple on the walls in his room. And also he takes the subway with Mom sometimes if she remembers to bring his headphones. This map isn’t as cool though, because it doesn’t look like any of the ones he knows. It’s a bunch of lines and boxes on top of each other. The paper folds out into one big paper, bigger than Peter can hold. Peter can’t read, but he does know what Mom’s handwriting looks like. She’s circled some places on the blue paper and written notes around it.

There’s pictures, too. One of Mom’s boss, Mister Doctor Toomes. A few other coworkers of his Mom’s that he sort of recognizes, but most are people he doesn’t. They’re all taped to certain places on the blue paper, and some have an X next to their face or a check mark. The most notes are written around Mister Doctor Toome’s face.

A blast of cold air hits Peter’s back, startling him. He drops the papers onto the ground and turns around to see Mom has gotten the door open. She’s holding a shoelace in one of her hands, the zucchini bread left abandoned behind her, as well as her phone. Mom drops the shoelace and sighs with relief.

“Mama!” Peter smiles wide, showing her what he found.

Her relief lasts only a couple of seconds. She drops the shoelace onto the seat and sits down next to Peter on the seat, taking the papers from him. She pulls Peter into her lap and smooths his hair back, giving him a kiss on the forehead. She’s folding the papers quickly, and instead of tucking them back into the glove box, she reaches for her purse in behind the driver’s seat to put them there.

Mom smiles at him as she turns the music down. “You’re too much like me.” She brings him close to tuck her chin on his head. Peter leans into the hug, listening to her heart beat. “Curiosity is an admirable trait, but you need to be more careful, you hear me? What were you thinking climbing out of the car seat? What if you had pressed something up here you shouldn’t have? What if you had fell and hurt yourself? And another thing! When did you figure out how to get out of that thing? Peter, are you listening to me?”

She’s back to asking a million rapid fire questions again. Peter plays with her pretty necklace. It shines in the light, sparkly and crystal. Like a tear drop.

Mom sets her hand on top of Peter’s head. “How am I going to protect you?”

That’s a silly question. Mom’s a knight, she can protect anyone. Everyone knows good guys always win.

-

Eventually, they left the parking lot of their apartment building and made their way towards Uncle Ben and Aunt May’s home. Peter had been buckled right back up in that devil seat, even though he argued he could just get out of it again. Zitka had been just as sad as Peter. Mom changed the radio to CD101.9, which sort of made everything better. And thankfully, Blankie was there to comfort them in these trying times.

Dad had come back to the car with a bunch of leaves in his hair. It almost made them even more late, because Mom had to help him find all of them. Even now, Dad keeps touching his hair like he’ll find another hidden in the locks. When he complained about it being messy for the party, Mom said something under her breath about how falling into bushes wasn’t the brightest idea he’s had in his life.

Dad had been confused by the shoelace and complained that Mom could have waited, until he learned what Peter did. And then suddenly Mom was in the right and Peter was “looking before leaping, we talked about this, buddy!” and all that other boring stuff.

On the bright side, Mom and Dad did tell him he was very smart when he explained his thought process and what all he did. Mom had cooed about how Peter was trying to help them, and said he was just like Tata. Which is always his favorite compliment to get. And Dad had been fascinated that Peter figured out how to do the buttons on his seat and how to open both the boxes up front.

Oh! And Peter got a Santa hat!

He swishes his head from side to side while Mom parks the car. The white ball on the end is super fun, he can see why Santa likes it so much. It does get in his eyes, too big for his head, but he doesn’t mind so much. He pushes it up when he hears the car comes to a stop. Mom goes into the backseat to get her phone out of her purse and to get the zucchini bread, but she leaves her purse in the back near Peter. She smiles and adjusts the hat with one hand before closing the door. Dad is the one to meet him the next time the car door opens, his smile just as big as before the whole mess with the car.

“Coat time, bud!” Dad reaches over Peter to get into the Peter Bag. “You wanna get yourself unclipped?”

“Yes!” Peter has been dying for this moment. Finally, they let him do stuff on his own! He throws Blankie to the side, sets Zitka on top of it, and gets to work.

Peter sticks his tongue out as he gets the first two clips off. Dad tugs the coat out of the bag, but knocks over Mom’s coat in the process. It falls out onto the floor and Dad curses under his breath. He pushes further into the car to grab what spilled out, including the familiar blue paper.

Dad pauses when he grabs the paper, purse in one hand and the coat left on top of Peter. Dad slowly unfurls the paper, looking behind him where Mom had left. He stares at all the pictures of the people and traces his thumb over some of the notes, reading them.

Peter gets the last clip off and grabs Zitka. He points her foot at the picture of Mister Doctor Toomes. “What’s it say?”

Dad pulls himself out of reading, startled. It’s rare to see Dad confused. Peter tilts his head, and Zitka copies him. Dad folds the paper up, grinning thinly but his brows furrowed. He puts the paper back in Mom’s purse. “Just some work stuff for Mom.”

“But what is it?”

“Why so curious?” Dad tosses back.

“B’cause.” Peter shrugs. “Is it a map?”

Dad hesitates, and Peter makes sure to stare right at him. Dad always caves in if Peter looks at him long enough. Dad’s face twists, but eventually he replies, “It’s a blueprint, which are maps for buildings. Nothing for Peters to worry about.”

“It was in the glove box.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup!”

Dad sets the purse down and looks at Peter. Despite Dad being the bravest guy Peter knows, he does get nervous. Worried. Scared. Uncle Ben says everyone gets scared sometimes, even the toughest people. Peter thinks that’s probably what makes Dad so brave. Dad looks worried now, like when Mom got sick and had to go to the hospital for a little bit.

“You’re a pretty good finder.” Dad says after a beat of quiet. “And look at that!” He adds, much more cheery. He gestures to the car seat. “You can unclip yourself!”

Peter beams with pride, sitting a little taller. “‘Cause I’m smart.”

“Exactly. You’re a genius in the making.” Dad confirms. “Just like your mom.”

It doesn’t take long before Peter is dressed in a puffy blue coat with a bunch of fur on the hood. It’s not ugly, like some of the wardrobe choices Peter gets (Dad’s fault), but it’s real hard to move his arms around in this thing. He feels like he’ll topple over any second. He was even forced to put on gloves. Gloves! That were not in the glove box!

Peter doesn’t think it’s that cold outside to warrant such loss of his mobility but Dad had asked him to do it for Mom, and Peter does like doing stuff for Mom. Real conundrum.

“Now, Pete, I gotta ask a favor.” Dad sets him on the ground, holding Zitka for him. Peter is looking off to the side to try and see Uncle Ben and Aunt May’s house across the street from where they parked. There’s tons of cars around, much more than there usually are.

“You listening to me, Little Robin?” Dad pats his head, turning Peter to look at him.

Peter gives him his full attention. “Duh.”

“Don’t say duh, that’s rude” Dad bites back a laugh. “But okay. Look, I need you not to tell anyone you got locked in the car, okay?”

“Okay!” Peter tries to pat his heart, but his arms are constricted by the big coat. So instead, he reaches out and touches Dad’s heart.

Dad smiles all the time, Peter thinks. But sometimes he has his Just for Peter smile on, like he does right now. He scoops his hands under Peter’s armpits and lifts him high into the air, throwing him up. Peter squeals with delight and Dad catches him like always. “Who gave you the right to be so cute?”

“I did!” Though Peter doesn’t remember that.

Dad snorts as he walks across the street, having to go around a big truck. Tiny snowflakes wisp through the air, falling on Peter’s nose and his head as they walk around big piles that have been shoveled off the sidewalk. Peter thinks Uncle Ben and Aunt’s May’s house looks so different when it’s snowing. Usually Aunt May has a garden out front that Peter helps her with, but the garden is empty right now.

The house is covered in a bunch of pretty lights, though they’re fuzzy and hard to see from this distance. The whole city had been covered in these lights, but it’s much more prevalent here in Uncle Ben and Aunt May’s neighborhood. There’s a small fire going that a bunch of people are standing around next to while talking and laughing. There’s even more people inside the small home, gathered around the front porch and inside the house as far as Peter can see.

But Peter doesn’t care about any of those folks. Well, not that he doesn’t care about them. Everybody says it’s important to care. Peter just means that he’s looking for someone in particular, who he cares about more than them.

“Is that my partner in crime I see over there?”

Peter’s gaze snaps towards the porch steps. Uncle Ben is breaking his way out of conversation with a bunch of the people on the porch, who smile in their direction and wave. Dad waves back. Ben is all bundled up in his own coat and scarf, his eyes crinkled in his old person smile at Peter.

“It is! Look at you, Pete, can you even see over the fluff of that coat?”

“Ben!” Peter immediately starts wiggling his way out of Dad’s arms.

Dad, used to this, just maneuvers his way to holding Peter under his armpits and dangling him in the air. Peter starts kicking his legs, trying to run his way out of Dad’s hold, and Dad snickers, pulling out a funny voice. “Here we are folks, to watch the race of the evening! Our star runner today is Peter Parker, already showing his usual eagerness to dominate the competition. His confidence that he’ll make it to the finish line before anyone-”

“Tataaaaa!” Peter complains. “Put me down!”

“And he’s off!” Dad lets him drop softly onto the ground.

“Uncle Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen!” Peter shouts, running as fast as his little legs can carry him as soon as his reindeer shoes hit the shoveled pavement.

“Peter!” Uncle Ben has dropped to his knees on the walkway, his arms open to grab Peter in a big hug. Peter ignores the burst of laughter from the observers on the porch and throws himself full force at the old man. He can tell that Uncle Ben pretends it’s more intense than it is, letting himself get knocked over, but that’s part of the fun. He squishes Peter in a big hug, giving him a kiss on the cheek that lasts forever.

“You get bigger since I last saw you?” Uncle Ben asks as he gets them off the ground. Peter holds on tight to Uncle Ben’s neck.

“Probably. He’s been eating his greens like a good kid.” Dad replies.

“Oof, don’t know where he gets that from.” Uncle Ben pats Peter’s back. Much softer, Ben says, “Hey, Dick. It’s nice to see you.”

“Hey, B. I missed you.”

Peter gets sandwiched into their own hug, tight as they can get without hurting him. He giggles into Ben’s scarf, peeking over the fabric to look at the house. A lot of the people on the porch wave to him with goofy smiles, one woman touching her heart. Peter can see Mom moving around inside, then she disappears into the crowd.

“So, whatcha been up to, Peter?” Uncle Ben asks when they pull out of the hug. He fixes the big Santa hat before it can droop all the way into Peter’s eyes.

“I got locked in the car!” He replies excitedly.

Dad instantly winces and covers his face. “Pete…”

“I mean-” Peter suddenly remembers the one thing he wasn’t supposed to say. “What car?”

“Nice save, Parker.” Uncle Ben is holding back his laughter unsuccessfully.

Peter gives Dad a thumbs up. “Nailed it.”

“You sure did, kiddo.” Dad also gives a thumbs up, and bumps their fists. He sighs a little bit and points at Ben. “Not. A. Word.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Uncle Ben turns to Peter, giving him a little squeeze. “You wanna go say hi to everybody?”

“No.” Peter shakes his head.

“What about Aunt May?”

“Yes!” He can get down with that.

“And we’ll say hi to everyone along the way to her. It’s only polite.”

“Sure.” Peter doesn’t see the harm in that.

“Great! It’s settled!” Uncle Ben starts walking towards the porch, Dad at their side. “Dick, I think a few of your friends got here a little while ago. You should tell Wally to stop eating all the food before we run out.”

“I’ll probably see them once I get inside. I’m actually gonna catch up to Ales, though, she forgot her phone in the car.” Dad pats Ben’s shoulder. He says some quick hellos to everyone while reaching into his pocket, and he too disappears into the house. Ben hums in thought, watching where Dad left.

“I just saw her with it.” Uncle Ben says to himself. He shakes his head and continues up the steps, telling Peter, “Say hi to everyone, Peter!”

“Hi to everyone, Peter.” Gets a round of laughter from the strangers.

-

Peter hasn’t seen Mom or Dad since they disappeared on him ages ago.

Well, probably not ages ago. That would require Peter to have grown from four hundred to like… five hundred. At the very least. But it has been long enough that Peter had started to wonder where they are. It’s a small house, so the fact that he hasn’t seen them yet leaves him questioning where they could have gone.

In the time since they’ve left Peter to fend for himself, Uncle Ben had him say hi to (practically) all of the people at this party, most of whom are strangers that Peter got quickly tired of. There’s so many that the house is full of nonstop chatter, and it takes a concerting effort to move around the home without accidentally bumping into someone. And more keep coming! When Peter and Ben finally found their way into the tiny backyard, Peter saw some folks entering from the back gate (that he’s not allowed to touch, so what gives?)

It’s too many people, in his opinion. He knows that it’s not often Uncle Ben and Aunt May are gonna be alone when Peter goes to see them, they’re popular or whatever. But this is more than Peter can remember there ever being, and most of them are singing along to bad holiday songs on the radio. Torture.

On the bright side, the backyard is where they had found Aunt May, who immediately swooped in to take Peter out of Uncle Ben’s arms and bring him back into the house.

Peter loved that. He loves Uncle Ben, don’t get him wrong. But it was nice to have Aunt May find somewhere to sit with Peter and not talk to strangers. She gets that sometimes, it’s a little much to talk.

At the moment, however, May is distracted talking to some of the people that know Dad. They’re all standing at the entrance to the kitchen, babbling away about whatever it is adults talk about. Seeing familiar faces had reminded him of how long ago it was that he saw his parents. At least… what, five hundred hours? How long does it take to walk to a backyard?

(He fears that his answer may be wrong. He can’t exactly tell time yet. Just like how he can’t read. But one day he’ll be able to. Maybe when he’s six hundred years old.)

But he wasn’t too concerned about his AWOL parents. Not anymore. All thoughts of going into the fray to look for the two that brought him to life were tossed out the windows when he spotted them: A plate of delicious May Parker cookies, stacked tall enough that some of them threaten to tip over. There’s multiple kinds: chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, gingersnap, peanut butter, snowballs, gingerbread… but best of all,- Peter’s absolute favorite of all time- oatmeal raisin.

He knows that he isn’t supposed to have sweets until after dinner. Mom and Dad have both been very clear about that since as far as Peter can remember. But that rule must only apply if someone is there to stop him. Because what is a rule, if only an arbitrary thing imposed by adults that can see him?

And currently, there are no adults looking in his general direction (below their knees).

And a voice in his ear egging him on into childish misdeeds.

“Chair,” Eddie points at one of the nearest chairs in the dining area, because he’s a genius like that.

Peter doesn’t know Eddie all that much. The other boy lives somewhere around this neighborhood, and sometimes he comes over to play when Peter is staying with Uncle Ben and Aunt May. Peter lives in a whole other neighborhood and will be going to a different preschool. But Eddie, currently, is his only friend. And Peter guesses that makes him an expert on Eddie.

He’s a quiet kid, but he’s never dull. He joins in most of Peter’s exploits and games (he’s particularly fond of playing pirates, but hates playing doctor) without question. When Peter gets a brilliant idea, the other kid is always right behind him. He’s smart, too, unlike most other kids Peter has talked to. The kids at the playground eat rocks instead of trying to collect them. They also like to push when they play, or Peter can’t understand what they’re trying to say.

With Eddie, there’s none of that mess. Which means Peter likes him, even if they haven’t quite figured out what being friends means yet.

Eddie had found Peter not too long after May set him down. He’s waddled over in his own coat, but it was thinner than Peter’s and let him move around more. Lucky guy. After a minute of talking about how loud the party was and how excited they were for Santa to come, they moved on to better things: trying to undo the cursed baby locks on the cabinets (no success).

That changed when Peter spotted the cookies. Eddie’s face had lit up and they shared a nod.

“Take my gloves.” Peter holds out his hands to Eddie. The other boy complies quickly, pulling Peter free and throwing the gloves on the ground. Peter holds his hands up and wiggles his fingers, making Eddie giggle. The only problem left is the coat, but now that his hands are free, Peter’s got it.

Shimmying the coat off onto the floor, Peter then wanders over to grab the chair. He tugs on the leg and it makes a loud scooting sound, much to his horror. Not even the music and the talking could have covered it.

Yet, only one of the distracted adults turns around. He expects to see someone his size, but when there’s no one there, he looks down. Peter goes perfectly still and looks away. Because adults can’t see him if he’s not looking at them.

“Hey, Pete, what’s up little man?”

What!?

Peter eyes the wizard suspiciously.

“Nothin’.” Peter replies quickly, dropping his hand from the chair. He stuffs it in his pockets, wondering how he got past Peter’s main defense. The man doesn’t seem to suspect Peter’s mischief yet, because he pulls the chair out for him.

“You wanna sit?”

“No.” Peter shakes his head vigorously. He wants the opposite of sitting. The man raises a brow at him, a familiar expression to Peter at this point. It usually means “What are you up to?” Actually, the man himself looks familiar, though Peter is finding it hard to place a name.

The man scans the kitchen area. He spots Eddie standing next to Peter’s discarded coat and gloves, pointedly looking away from the man and at the ceiling. Too bad, Eddie, because the wizard stranger man can apparently see them anyway. Then his eyes land on the plate of cookies right above Eddie. He lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head.

He crouches in front of Peter, looking him in the eye. “You’re gonna have to be sneakier than that.” Peter’s shoulders slump. Busted. No cookies for Peter and Eddie. “There’s a much quieter stool over there. Perfect for little kid height.” He points over behind Eddie.

Peeking out from behind the fridge is a step stool that May uses sometimes. Peter supposes… that could have done the trick. He turns back to the maybe-not-a-stranger and shrugs. “Chair was taller.”

Both could have gotten the job done. But the man unfortunately has a point.

The man stands up, setting a gentle hand on Peter’s back to guide him over to the counter. He scoops the coat and gloves off the floor, stuffing the gloves into the coat pocket. He slings the coat over his shoulder and grabs two paper plates, giving the cookies another long look. He turns to Eddie and Peter, squinting at them.

“You wouldn’t happen to know if you have any allergies, would you?”

Eddie looks at Peter. Peter stands taller. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that being confident will get him more stuff. “We have all the allergies.”

“I don’t think you know what that means yet.” The stranger sighs.

He sets the plates down, then puts his hands on both boy’s heads, spinning them around. He then guides them like that over to May, who is listening to a lady (Peter knows her, but not really knows her, knows her. He thinks her name is… Cory? Like that boy on TV?) talk about her job.

“Hey, Mrs. Parker. You’ve got two kiddos who are resorting to thievery.” The wizard stranger man betrays them. Peter turns to glare at him, swatting his hand off of his head.

“Liar!”

“What?” May whips around, eyes wide. “Peter, what’s in your pockets?” May drops in front of him to check.

“Nothin’!” Peter crosses his arms. “He’s a liar!”

“How often does he steal that this is the reaction?” The man laughs, like a big jerk would laugh at other’s misfortune.

“Why do you think I have so many baby locks all over the place? Last time he got into the toothpicks and the silverware drawer.” May huffs. She deems Peter’s pockets empty until she gets to the last one. A loud clatter rings out as she folds the pocket inside out.

“My rocks!” Peter cries in despair.

“Whoa! That’s a big rock!” Eddie reaches down to grab one.

A round of laughter from the adults that Peter doesn’t get. They’re all cruel and hate him, apparently. None of them are on the nice list, he’s sure. Santa would be scolding them if he were here.

“How did this pass inspection before you left the house?” May starts picking up the rocks, but one of the adults in the group bat her hands away and insist on picking them up to help her. “Oh, please, Wally, I’m not that old, I’m more than capable of-”

“I didn’t say anything about you being old, now did I?” Wally tuts. “Jeez, this is a lot of rocks. How big are baby pockets?”

“I am not a baby!” Peter points at Wally. Wally raises his hands is surrender, wise to Peter’s righteous anger.

“Peter, it’s rude to point at people.” May scolds lightly.

“Nuh uh.” Peter grumbles, scuffing his shoe on the floor. “…Can I have my rocks back?”

“Are you going to put them in your mouth again?”

Peter huffs. “I’m not a baby!”

“You’re pretty baby sized to me.” One of the adults comments, chuckling to himself.

“Please don’t get him riled up, Victor.” May hangs her head. “Peter, I’m gonna have to tell your Mom you were hoarding rocks again. Doesn’t she usually check you before you take off?”

“I heard from Ben that someone got locked in the car.” Wally has collected most of the rocks, and is showing them to Eddie, who is as fascinated as Peter would expect from someone looking at his glorious collection.

“Oh, well that’d explain it.” May laughs.

“Well, I don’t know about rocks and silverware,” The betrayer man chimes in. “-but this time he was just looking for some cookies. I didn’t know if I could give them any…”

“Oh, that’s fine. It’s the holidays and I’m not the one looking after them tonight.” May stands up, scooching past them to get to the counter. “You want oatmeal raisin or chocolate chip?”

“Raisin!” Peter hurries after her. He’ll get his rocks back later.

“Chocolate, please.” Eddie grabs onto Peter’s sleeve to keep up.

“Duke, my man!” Someone calls out from in the living room.

Peter turns, holding onto Eddie’s hand while they wait for their cookies. The Lying Betrayer Man (who is getting a pass this time because it worked out) turns at the sound of his name. Another man Peter doesn’t know (too many of those are here) has made his way out of the dozens of people blocking the kitchen, beaming happily.

“Long time no see! How you’ve been?”

“Hey, Daryl, what’s up?” Duke lights up when he sees him. They both reach out and grab hands, tugging each other into a quick hug. “You’re looking better.”

“Yeah, I got a new job, feeling better about this whole ‘living’ thing we got going on.” Daryl pats Duke’s shoulder. “You not on call tonight?”

“I am, that’s why I’m not touching the eggnog.” Duke replies, leaning back against the counter. “I’m just about to head to the station. Wanted to say hi to Boss first, tell him happy holidays- and Richard, but I can’t seem to find him.”

“But you saw Ben? Wanted to say hi too.”

“Yeah, he’s in the backyard right now.” Duke points to the back door.

Peter is handed a plate of two oatmeal raisin cookies, some carrots, and peanut butter. He says thank you to Aunt May and picks one up, nibbling on the cookie in thought. Now that he doesn’t have plans for cookies on his mind, he’s back to wondering where his parents are.

-

He found them.

After a few minutes of insistent begging (once he had finished eating), May finally caved in and helped him look. Peter’s a little sure she got the wrong idea about why he wants to find them, but it’s not his problem to deal with. Eddie went back to his people, so he didn’t tag along, but that’s okay. At the moment, Peter is more preoccupied making sure his parents aren’t getting into trouble without him, than he is with playing.

From the living room to the kitchen again, back to the backyard, to the front yard, and even the downstairs bathroom at some point, May brought him around and around the house, asking everyone they met if they knew where they’d gone. The process was a little more slow going than Peter liked because May wanted to talk to everybody that they saw, but there were some helpful people in the mix of faces.

Many had seen and talked to Mom and Dad throughout the night, but no one had seen them since their talks. They’d say, “Oh, I just saw them in the living room” and when they got there, someone in the living room would say, “They just went to the backyard.” They kept missing the two by seconds, in some kind of weird game of chase. It wasn’t until May decided to check upstairs (and for some reason, praying under her breath that they had their pants on), that they finally caught up to them.

When they got to the top of the steps, Peter saw shadows of feet in the crack under the bathroom door. All of the guests had stayed downstairs, but the music was kind of loud, so it was a little hard to hear them at first. When May stopped right outside the door, that’s when Peter could finally hear and was sure it was them.

They don’t sound very happy.

“-dangerous, and you didn’t even tell me that you were looking into this. Ales, come on, I thought you trusted me more than that. I mean we took vows and everything to have each other’s back through thick and thin, and I think potentially uncovering secrets within corporations we work for counts as thick and thin.”

“I’m looking into it. I’m not planning on doing anything with it.” Mom replies curtly.

“Now we both know that’s not true.” Dad huffs. Silence, for a beat, and then Dad continues. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you, I know how you work. I saw your notes- Peter saw your notes. You’re lucky he can’t read yet, because he is terrible at keeping secrets.” Peter thinks that’s unfair but whatever. “I told you about Norman putting pressure on Curt and I, and then you got all weird, but I figured you just were holding back on telling me that you told me so-”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know, I know.” Dad groans. “I’m… Look, I’m not mad about you looking into this. I’m upset that you’re doing this by yourself. We both made a promise when we stepped down, remember?” There’s a sound like someone leaning against the door. “We can’t do solo missions anymore. I couldn’t bear to lose you like that. And I can’t imagine what I would tell Peter later.”

What would he have to tell Peter?

It’s not often that Peter hears Mom and Dad genuinely upset. Mom sometimes yells at the other people who drive or when the radio annoys her, and Dad complains about people at work to the point that he works himself up all over again and then takes Peter to the park or to the gym to play. They get angry. But they never sound so serious with each other.

It feels wrong. Mom and Dad shouldn’t have to feel like that. Not while they’re at a party, and not when they’re at home. Whatever it is, Peter’s sure he could fix it. And since Mom and Dad say that a hug can fix everything, Peter knows exactly what to do.

He leans in Aunt May’s arm to try for the doorknob, but he’s pulled backwards by her before he can touch it. He looks up at her, shocked beyond all measure. Out of all the people to stop him from comforting his parents, it wouldn’t be Aunt May. He tries to protest, but she touches a finger to his lips. She grins at him, using that same finger to gesture to her lips for Peter to be quiet.

He doesn’t want to be quiet, but… May knows more than him. Right? Maybe this is part of helping people.

Her smile drops and she fixes her gaze back on the door. A large range of mixed emotions crosses her face. She’s focused, listening intently when she should be knocking and checking on them. But more than anything, she looks scared.

That can’t be right. Nothing that they’re talking about is scary, is it? He opens his mouth to ask-

“I’m sorry.” Mom finally says. Peter stays quiet. “It started out with just… noticing things. Some of the people that Toomes hired, equipment going missing… And then it kept snowballing and suddenly I was seeing way more about what he was up to, and I didn’t know how to tell you because- because this is a lot to take on. And it’s not just you and me anymore. I guess I got- scared. Imagining Peter all alone like we were… It just… I feel like I can’t breathe. If something went wrong, then at least you would…”

Dad is really, really quiet. May takes a step back from the door like she’s about to leave, and Peter panics. Because Peter knows they’re upset now and they’re right there. He could help them if Aunt May would just let him open the door!

“Put me down!” Peter wriggles in May’s arms. She curses under her breath, stepping away from the staircase. The door creaks as it opens in a hurry, light spilling out into the hall.

May’s hold is easier to get out of than Mom or Dad’s. Her hands finally slip and his stomach sinks when he almost tumbles to the floor. Strong hands snatch him out of the air and bring him close, supporting him in a tighter hold. “Whoa! Peter, buddy, where’s the fire?”

His reply is a short noise of frustration, and he wraps his arms tight around Dad’s neck. Mom is standing behind Dad. She seems far more tired than she did when Peter last saw her. She steps up behind Dad and pushes Peter’s bangs out of his eyes.

“You sleepy, bambino?” Mom asks in a quiet voice.

“Yeah, he ate a little bit ago and I think he’s tired now. It’s getting pretty late for him.” May replies for him. Which isn’t what happened, he knew that May didn’t get why he was searching for his parents. But now that they’ve mentioned it, he is tired. That’s no good. He can’t be sleepy when Mom and Dad are upset.

“I can put him down.” Dad rubs his back. “I’m gonna need to go grab his pajamas, though. I should probably go ahead and get all our bags out the car before I forget later.”

“It’ll be hell getting everything upstairs right now.” Mom squeezes out of the bathroom to peer down the staircase. “I’ll help grab some things. We’ll leave the present bag in the car for now, we can grab that in the morning.”

Mom kisses Peter’s forehead as she heads down the staircase. Peter watches her go, framed by the soft light from the holiday decorations put up. She glances back up when she’s at the bottom of the steps. She wiggles her fingers at Peter, smiling like nothing is wrong. Maybe there is nothing wrong. Then she’s gone.

Peter rests his cheek on Dad’s shoulder, watching Aunt May. She’s twirling her necklace nervously in her fingers, glancing between where Mom left and where Dad stands like she heard something she didn’t like. Dad reaches out to touch her shoulder.

“Thanks, May. We shouldn’t have dumped him on you and Ben. It’s your party.”

“Don’t be silly, Richard.” May pats his hand, a thin smile on her lips. “We’re always happy to spend time with Peter. Even if he’s a bit of a kleptomaniac.”

Dad chuckles, then stops and goes, “Wait, what’d he steal this time?”

“He didn’t get that far. But I did find a pocket full of rocks.” May’s smile is more soft than ever. “He’s a troublemaker, alright. Wonder where he got that from.”

“His Mom.” Dad jokes. May’s smile gets thinner. “And me. Guess we didn’t really give him a chance, huh?”

“I think he’s got the best of both of you.” May tells him, her eyes crinkling with warmth. “Sure, he’s a troublemaker. But he’s got a big heart.”

Peter thinks Dad sniffles. He pulls May into a hug, her curly hair tickling Peter’s face. “Thanks.”

“Just telling the truth.” May replies. “Now go help your wife with the bags.”

Dad lets go of her and salutes. “On it! We- Oh, shoot, your coat. Where’d that go, Pete?”

“Gone forever.”

“It’s downstairs.” May chuckles.

“Santa would be sad if you lost your brand new coat, bud.” Dad continues anyway. Peter doesn’t think that’s true, but he’ll let Dad have that one. “I guess it’s a little too late for that. Santa already has all of the presents ready. And you’re too cute for the naughty list.”

“Yup.”

“Egotistic, aren’t you?” Dad huffs.

When they get to the bottom of the steps, May suddenly calls out, “If you need help, you can tell us.” Dad hesitates, and turns to look back at her. “Anything, it doesn’t matter what. You know that, right?”

Dad squeezes Peter a little tighter. He smiles at her.

“I know. Don’t worry about us, we’ll be okay.”