[A/N]: You monsters did it again. You actually dragged 300 powerstones, and now I'm chained to the desk like some overworked dungeon scribe. But since you hit the goal, fine—bonus chapters are coming. And of course, because readers love suffering (mine, specifically), the next target is 600 powerstones. Go on then. Torture me properly.
Peter groaned and covered his face with his hands. "This is the worst. I'm having relationship advice forced on me by a god."
"Not a god. Just a guy who's been around." Jay's expression gentled. "This feeling you're having. This uncertainty about everything. About Gwen. About being a hero. That's good, kid. That means your thoughts and convictions are real."
A person without doubt isn't sane.
"But what about the powers I have?" Peter's voice rose again. The panic creeping back in. "I can't just ignore people when someone needs me. Today proved it. I was literally just testing the web shooters. Just swinging to get a cake. But the second I saw that guy, my body just... moved. I didn't think about Uncle Ben's birthday or Aunt May waiting or anything. I just jumped."
Jay frowned. "Then what? You're planning to save everyone in need? Pick strangers over family every time?"
"No! But if something bad happens and I could do something to stop it and I don't..." Peter's voice cracked. "Won't that make it my fault?"
"Then it'd be impossible, kid."
Sharp enough to cut through Peter's spiral.
"Everyone needs help all the time. You save one person, three more need saving. You stop one mugging, five more happen across the city. You can't be everywhere. You can't save everyone."
He leaned forward. Made sure Peter was looking at him.
"You'll be nothing more than a tired man with nothing. No family. No friends. No connections. You'll burn yourself out trying to be everywhere and end up nowhere. Is that what you want?"
"No, but..."
"Always remember: family comes first."
"But you did!" Peter shot back. His voice almost accusatory. "You brought everyone back to life. You saved them all. Twelve hundred people. You didn't pick and choose. You just... saved everyone."
Jay was quiet for a long moment.
"That's because I had the power to do it, kid. The specific power for that specific moment. Not everyone can do that. Not even me, all the time." He paused. "And if my options were limited, I'd focus on the people I love. Focus on what I could do best with what I have."
He let the words sink in.
"Power isn't about doing everything. It's about choosing what matters and protecting that with everything you've got."
Peter went quiet. His brain working through the logic. Trying to find holes in it but coming up empty.
Jay reached into his shirt. His hand closed around something. When he pulled it out, Peter saw a necklace. Simple chain with trinkets hanging from it. A few metal designs and even a bullet. Even a quarter, worn smooth with age and handling.
Jay held it for a long moment. His thumb rubbed the worn metal. The way someone touches something precious. Something irreplaceable.
Then, with what looked like genuine reluctance, he took it off.
"Here." Jay held it out. The chain with just the quarter dangled between them. Catching the last rays of sunset. "This is very special to me. Keep it on you. Always. It'll solve your Parker luck."
Peter took the necklace carefully. Like it might break. It was warm from Jay's body heat. He turned it over in his hands, examining it.
"Parker luck? My luck's not so bad that you gotta name it."
Jay smiled. But there was something sad in it.
"Kid, you have no idea. Trust me. Keep it on you. Always."
Peter slipped the chain over his head. The quarter settled against his chest. Right over his heart.
It felt... right.
"As for your cake..." Jay snapped his fingers.
Blue energy exploded around them.
Peter's stomach lurched violently. The world twisted, folded in on itself, compressed into something impossible. Colors bled together. Up became down became sideways. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. His spider-sense screamed but there was nothing to dodge, no danger to avoid, just reality itself breaking apart and reforming.
Then reality snapped back into place like a rubber band.
Peter doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping. His stomach threatened to revolt. The world spun.
"Oh God. Oh God, what was that? That was horrible. That was the worst thing I've ever felt and I've been buried under a building."
Jay steadied him with a hand on his back. "Sorry. Should have warned you. First teleport is always rough."
"First?" Peter looked up, eyes watering. "You mean it gets BETTER?"
"Eventually."
"I hate you so much right now."
"You'll forgive me in a second."
They were standing in an alley. Behind a bakery. Peter could smell fresh bread through the wall. But also... something else. The air felt different. Sounded different. The distant traffic had a different rhythm.
An old man emerged from the back door. Flour on his apron. He saw Jay and smiled immediately.
"Ah, Mr. Jay! You came! Your usual order?"
"Not this time, Maurice." Jay gestured to Peter. "My young friend here needs a birthday cake. Something special."
Maurice studied Peter. "Chocolate? Vanilla? How many people?"
"Um." Peter's brain was still catching up. Still processing the teleportation and the French accent and... "Chocolate? For three people?"
"I have just the thing." Maurice disappeared back inside.
Peter looked at Jay. "You come here often?"
"My girlfriend has cravings." Jay shrugged. "This place is the best in the world. Worth the trip."
"The trip from where..." Peter turned. Looked at the street corner visible through the alley opening.
His brain short-circuited.
"Is that the Eiffel Tower?"
"Don't worry about it."
"Don't worry about..." Peter's voice rose. "You just teleported me to PARIS. We're in FRANCE. I'm in EUROPE. Oh God, I don't have my passport. What if I get arrested? Aunt May's gonna kill me."
Jay laughed. "Calm down. We'll be back in thirty seconds."
"That's not the point!"
Maurice returned with a box. Beautiful chocolate cake visible through the window. Three layers. Glossy frosting. Little decorative swirls that looked almost too perfect to eat.
"For you, no charge. Any friend of Mr. Jay's is a friend of mine."
"I can't..." Peter started.
"Take it," Jay said.
Peter took the box. It was warm. Fresh from the oven. The smell was incredible.
"Thank you. This is... thank you."
Maurice beamed. Said something in rapid French. Jay responded in the same language. They both laughed.
Peter just stood there, holding a birthday cake in a Paris alley, wondering if his life had always been this insane or if it was a recent development.
Another snap.
More blue energy.
The world twisted again. Peter's stomach lurched but he kept his mouth shut. Clutched the cake box like his life depended on it.
'Please don't throw up on the cake. Please don't throw up on the cake.'
They materialized back on the original rooftop. The sun was now gone. Manhattan's lights were on. The city glittered below them.
Peter's legs gave out. He sat down hard, still clutching the cake box.
"I'm never getting used to that."
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