Peter managed to convince Aunt May to wait until the weekend. That way, he could line it up with his date with Gwen and wouldn't have to work. It was only a few days, so she agreed.
Aunt May was left speechless. She went from being stunned, to shocked, to "what on earth?" before ending up at "sweet Jesus." Peter hadn't been exaggerating when he said he'd been busy fixing up the old meth lab. With white floors, spotless windows, and a refreshing breeze flowing through the space, it was nearly as nice as where they lived now.
May could hardly find anything to critique—well, almost.
"So, you're planning to live here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at Peter's sparse setup.
He had a military surplus cot with a few blankets on it, a kettle on a small table, and an overflowing trash bag. Clothes were stacked in two visible piles—one presumably clean, the other definitely dirty, based on the smell.
Peter often stopped by for a few hours to work on small projects, wanting a more comfortable option than just lying on the floor. He shrugged in response. He didn't intend to live there full-time, and Aunt May knew it. He was still home most nights by eleven, and even though he left early in the morning, he wasn't ready to live here completely.
He'd scored a water heater from Aleksei, but the plumbing wasn't finished. He had installed the pipes and replaced them with new plastic ones, but he still needed to seal everything, a time-consuming and tricky task he hadn't yet completed.
Aunt May stepped forward and hugged him tightly. "Peter, never forget how proud I am of you—and your Uncle Ben would be, too." She felt tears welling up and held him close until they passed. Any fear that he was lost or drifting was gone; right now, she couldn't be prouder.
"However, young man, we need to talk."
Aunt May held a letter, signed by Peter, from Matt. It showed that Peter had given her control of his parents' trust fund. Since May wasn't a blood relative, she'd never been eligible for their pension or benefits, and the trust had stayed locked until Peter turned eighteen.
"May, that money should have been yours to raise me," Peter said with a shrug. "Besides, I kind of spent all the Oscorp money on this place." He saw her raise an eyebrow and quickly added, "Don't worry, I paid my tuition."
May huffed, frowning. "But still."
Peter hugged her again. "You gave up everything for me, Aunt May. You deserve it."
She wrapped her arms around him. "Fine," she sighed, "but no more, okay? You have to think about your future, Peter."
"I am, Aunt May, I am," Peter said, kissing her on the forehead. "Thanks to you, I have one."
Peter left her to explore the warehouse while he went out to pick up some food for them. She wasn't usually a fan of burgers, but Peter assured her the selection was great, and he'd find something she'd enjoy.
The outsides of the units were spotless. Peter had received the mats, which he laid out and glued down. Pathways curved around the interior to each unit, circling a central raised platform, which he'd also carpeted. He'd brought in some sturdy camp chairs and set up another table.
The high windows, now covered with privacy film, remained open. Even with the film, the warm sunlight brightened and warmed the space. The winter cold was giving way to spring, keeping the warehouse comfortably warm.
The level of care Peter had put into what he called "box homes" was impressive. They might have been prefab units and easy to build, but the seams were barely visible, and the wiring was cleverly concealed.
While May didn't know much about construction, she'd seen some of Ben's work, and what Peter had done was impressive. And not just for one unit—all of them were equally neat and well-finished. Peter had gone above and beyond, and with more space, she knew he would manage fine. Five tenants would provide a solid monthly income.
As she settled in, the front door opened, and Gwen stepped inside.
"Look who I found," Gwen called out, carrying bags of food with Peter following behind, holding drinks.
"Gwen, dear," May greeted her, helping to place the bags on the table Peter had set up.
Peter had picked out a grilled cheese sandwich and a hot cup of tomato soup—a classic. The food was surprisingly good, and the atmosphere was cozy and inviting. They chatted about the future, with Gwen hinting at moving in.
"Now, you two, I know everything is wonderful now, but you should keep your own space. Ben and I started out in a cramped one-room place, and it was a nightmare."
"Aunt May!" Peter exclaimed. He'd told her about dating Gwen, but he hadn't expected her to bring up moving in together. "It's the same building; we're not moving in together. I've got my own unit. Plus, Gwen's already called dibs on the first one."
"Oh, on that note, Pete—MJ is coming by in a few days. I mentioned the units, and she's interested," Gwen said, sipping her soda after a bite of her taco.
May shook her head. "I hope you two reconnect. It's a shame you lost touch in high school." Peter looked away, avoiding her gaze. He couldn't explain that Flash was the reason they'd never talked back then.
"Felicia said no, though. Her dad wants her to stay home and house-sit or something. I don't know; she seemed excited at first but then changed her mind. Did you two have a falling out?" Gwen asked.
Peter shook his head. "She's been a little distant since she asked me to prom. Did you two have any issues?"
Gwen looked down at her drink. "Yeah… don't ask, 'cause I can't explain. It's not my story to tell." Peter nodded, understanding.
To lighten the mood, he pulled out a thick book from under the camp table he'd set up. "Pick a paint color—unless you like white. Just, uh, try not to pick anything too expensive." Gwen rolled her eyes as she flipped through the catalog. "I was thinking of going with gold for everything."
May covered her mouth, holding back a laugh as she imagined how tacky that would look.
Once they finished their meal, Peter called Aunt May a taxi. It was supposed to be a date night, and he wanted some time alone with Gwen before she had to head home.
After a hug and watching Aunt May leave, Peter turned to find Gwen standing right behind him. She leaned on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"So, Petey Pie, what do you want to do?" she asked, whispering in his ear.
"Come here." Peter sat down on the camp bed. "A bed fit for a princess." Gwen laughed, lying beside him, feeling relaxed and happy just to rest for a while.
"Hey, Pete, are you sure about all this? I get why you're angry, but Felicia just seems… even more unbearable lately." She pulled his arm over, cuddling up close to it.
Peter snorted. "Yeah, May asked me the same thing, but I just couldn't keep quiet about it anymore. I know I should, but he's just… too much."
Gwen scowled, pulling his arm closer to herself, letting it rest where it naturally fell—right against her chest.
"I, uh…" Peter started, but Gwen shushed him, and he settled in closer.
Gwen sighed, wishing she could be as bold as Peter. He had the warehouse and his plans, plus the support of his aunt. But if Gwen ever dropped out or quit her internship, her dad would ground her until she was forty.
Her dad was already giving her grief about her relationship with Peter. This only added to the tension. Honestly, everything that had happened with Peter recently had her questioning her own plans.
She had been coasting along with what she thought she wanted, but was it really what she wanted?
Peter noticed her mood shift and kissed her gently on the neck. "Hey, it's okay. Things change, and I'll be all right." He was trying to reassure them both.
"I was talking about me, you dork." She laughed. "You seem to have everything together. All this craziness happened, and you're somehow still on your feet. I dunno… my life, my dad, and even the idea of moving out just feels huge. I'm worried you'll always be a step ahead of me, Pete, you know?"
He hadn't thought of that. "But it's fine, Gwen. You know, like how I started reading at two while you were still putting oatmeal in your hair?" he teased, and she lifted his hand and gave it a playful bite.
Her dad had told that story when they first met, and she had never lived it down. Every time Peter achieved something, he'd joke, "At least you don't have oatmeal in your hair."
It was funny, though, and it did make her feel better.
"Okay, okay, I get it. It's fine. At least I don't have oatmeal in my hair." They shared a smile, and Gwen snuggled closer to Peter.
This wasn't exactly how she'd planned things, but it was still nice. Even if he hadn't totally picked up on her hints.
They'd fallen asleep next to each other. It wasn't until someone banged on the front door that they stirred. Peter shrugged as Gwen mouthed, "Who is it?" to him.
"Hey, is anyone in there?" came a shout from outside.
"One second!" Peter called back. "Talk about impatient."
"Open up! It's the police," came the voice, followed by the sound of the door handle rattling.
Peter had installed a deadbolt system on the security door, making it so secure that it would take more than a tank to break through.
Gwen scowled and checked her phone. She had six missed messages and three missed calls. "It's my dad," she said, frowning.
"I'll handle this," Peter muttered, shaking his head. "Not this time. I told you—no more, Gwen. Not even from your dad. No. More."
Peter pressed the intercom button instead of buzzing the door open. "Yes, Officer? What can I help you with?" he asked.
"We got a report of noise disturbance and complaints."
Peter shook his head. "Really? You came to the quiet warehouse, heard nothing, and still decided to try to get in?"
There was a pause. "Can you open the door, please, sir? I want to do a quick visual check of the property."
"Okay, Officer, here's how this is going to go. I'll let you leave peacefully if—and only if—you stop lying to me."
Peter opened the door just a crack, enough for the officer to see Gwen glaring at him from inside.
"I know Captain Stacy put you up to this, and right now, you're attempting an illegal search."
Peter pointed to the now-open gate, which had a padlock on it.
"The property boundary begins at the main gate, which you bypassed to come here. That's trespassing, with no warrant. So, what's it going to be, Officer? Should I call my lawyer, or do you want to tell the truth and let Gwen handle her dad?"
The officer looked at Peter, then at Gwen, before sighing and holding his hands up in surrender.
He clicked the radio on his shoulder. "Officer Vasquez here. Yeah, no noise, no disturbance. Tell Stacy the kid's too smart and won't fall for this again. Vasquez out."
Peter nodded and opened the door a bit more. "Thank you, Officer."
Vasquez glanced inside, nodded, and said, "We won't bother you again, Mr. Parker. Have a good night, you two," before leaving.
Gwen was furious, and Peter could hear her yelling at her dad on the phone. After texting for a taxi, she grabbed her bag and stormed over to Peter.
"Get that unit finished. I'm over his nonsense, Pete. But, uh, sorry, I gotta go. I'll, uh, make it up to you."
She checked to make sure the officer was gone, then lifted her shirt slightly and unbuttoned her blouse, revealing black lace underneath.
Peter's breath caught in his throat. Her pink, prominent nipples peeked through the fabric as she lowered it slightly. She guided his hand under her blouse, letting him feel her soft skin.
"Finish fast enough, and you'll get to see if the panties match."
Gwen kissed Peter quickly before running to the gate and hopping into a waiting taxi.