Peter sprinted through the darkening streets of Queens, his enhanced physiology pushing him far beyond normal human endurance. Even so, he was breathing hard by the time he reached the familiar front steps of the Parker house.
His mood had been soaring when he'd left Oscorp earlier. Working alongside Dr. Connors, he'd finally managed to crack the genetic puzzle that had been tormenting the scientist for months. Using the formula from his father's hidden research, they'd successfully regenerated a lab mouse's severed limb—a breakthrough that could revolutionize medicine and save countless lives.
But euphoria had turned to panic the moment Peter noticed how late it had become. Ben's repeated reminders about picking up Aunt May echoed in his mind like accusations, and the sick feeling in his stomach had only intensified when he'd rushed to May's workplace only to find it empty.
Now, seeing Uncle Ben's stern expression waiting by the front door, Peter felt his heart sink even further.
"Uncle Ben, where's Aunt May?" Peter called out before he'd even come to a complete stop, his voice cracking with barely controlled fear.
The frantic journey home had pushed even his enhanced stamina to its limits. He bent over with his hands on his knees, lungs burning and throat raw, but his eyes remained fixed on Uncle Ben with desperate intensity.
What if something had happened to May because of his negligence? What if she'd been mugged, or worse, while waiting for a nephew who never came? The thought was unbearable.
Ben, Sr.'s expression softened as he took in Peter's obvious distress. Whatever lecture he'd been planning seemed to evaporate in the face of his nephew's genuine anguish.
"Ben picked her up," Uncle Ben said gently. "He told us you'd asked him to go instead."
Relief flooded through Peter like a physical force, leaving him weak-kneed and trembling. May was safe. But close on the heels of that relief came a crushing wave of guilt and gratitude.
Ben—who'd reminded him repeatedly not to forget—had covered for him once again. Had literally saved him from the consequences of his own thoughtlessness.
"I'm so sorry," Peter whispered, unable to meet Uncle Ben's eyes. "I got caught up in the research and completely lost track of time. I never meant for this to happen."
"Everyone makes mistakes, Peter," Ben, Sr. said, his voice warm with understanding. "You're very much like your father in that way. When Richard got focused on something important, the rest of the world just... disappeared for him."
Ben, Sr.'s words carried genuine affection rather than criticism. Despite their different paths in life, Ben, Sr. had always admired his brother's brilliance and dedication. He wanted Peter to follow in those footsteps, to achieve the kind of meaningful work that could change the world.
"But your father always believed that with great power comes great responsibility," Ben. Sr, continued, stepping forward to embrace his nephew. The physical contact seemed to ground Peter, offering comfort in the midst of his emotional turmoil.
"You're growing up, Peter. And while May and I aren't your biological parents—"
"Don't say that!" Peter interrupted, his head snapping up with sudden urgency. "You and Aunt May are—"
Ben, Sr. held up a gentle hand, asking for patience. "It's okay, Peter. We know the truth, and so do you. May and I have no problem with you or Ben exploring your family history. That's your right, and we would never try to stop you."
His voice grew more serious, weighted with years of accumulated love and concern. "But even though we're not your birth parents, we love you just as much as if you were our own blood. I don't expect you to shoulder the full responsibility for this family—you're still a kid—but I do need you to remember that your actions affect people who care about you."
Ben, Sr.'s hands settled on Peter's shoulders, grounding him with their familiar weight. "Do you understand what could have happened if Ben hadn't gone to pick up May tonight?"
Peter's throat tightened as he nodded. He'd spent the entire run home imagining worst-case scenarios, each more terrifying than the last.
"And do you think you were the only one worried?" Ben, Sr. pressed gently. "May would have been even more frightened than you are right now, wondering if something had happened to you."
"I know," Peter managed, his voice barely audible.
The guilt was overwhelming, cutting through the euphoria of scientific breakthrough like acid. For weeks, his new abilities had made him feel invincible, special, above the mundane concerns of ordinary life. Now he was confronted with the reality that his actions—or lack thereof—could genuinely hurt the people he loved most.
"Fortunately, everyone's safe," Ben, Sr. said, his tone warming again. "That's what matters. Just... try to remember this feeling the next time you're tempted to lose yourself in something. Remember: with great power comes great responsibility."
Peter nodded emphatically, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
At that moment, the front door swung open to reveal Ben leaning casually against the frame, a half-eaten pork chop in one hand and grease glistening on his chin.
"How long are you two planning to stand out here?" he asked with deliberately casual humor. "The food's getting cold."
Both Peter and Ben, Sr. turned to look at him, and Ben, Sr.'s expression brightened considerably.
"You must be starving," Ben, Sr. said loudly, clapping Peter on the back. "Go get something to eat!"
Then, leaning closer to Peter's ear, he whispered, "Ben's already covered for you once tonight. Just go along with whatever story he told May, alright? No need to worry her unnecessarily."
"Understood," Peter whispered back, nodding with renewed determination.
Later that night, after what could generously be described as a feast rather than dinner, Peter and Ben squeezed into Ben's cramped bedroom, both of them feeling pleasantly stuffed.
"I never imagined I could eat that much," Peter said with a satisfied burp, sprawling across Ben's bed. "I think I consumed about three thousand calories."
"Apparently our enhanced metabolisms require significantly more fuel," Ben replied, claiming the other half of the bed. "If we keep eating like this, Dad's grocery budget is going to bankrupt the family."
Ben had been pleasantly surprised by how smoothly the evening had gone. He'd expected shouting, slammed doors, and Peter storming off into the night. Instead, Dad had managed to communicate his concerns while maintaining the family bond that held them all together.
But that success created new problems.
"We need to find a way to contribute financially," Ben said thoughtfully. "Dad and Mom were managing just fine before we became human garbage disposals."
Peter nodded seriously, Uncle Ben's words about responsibility still echoing in his mind. "With great power comes great responsibility. Now that we have these abilities, maybe it's time we started taking some responsibility for this family."
He paused, then brightened as an idea occurred to him. "What about underground boxing? With our strength and reflexes, nobody could touch us. We could make serious money!"
"Absolutely not!" Ben's response was immediate and emphatic, his tone sharp enough to make Peter blink in surprise.
The last thing they needed was Peter getting involved in illegal fighting circuits. That path led to complications Ben had no desire to navigate—criminal contacts, moral compromises, and worst of all, the kind of attention that could expose their abilities to the wrong people.
Peter's thoughts shifted direction, his expression growing more thoughtful. "Maybe we should be thinking bigger picture," he said, pulling up a chair to sit closer to Ben's bedside. "Like Uncle Ben said, we've been given incredible abilities. That's not just a gift—it's a responsibility."