"Hey, Aunt May, I'm back!"
Peter pushed the front door open with his shoulder, gripping the white cardboard bakery box with both hands. He had walked the entire way home. Swinging through the New York skyline as a novice Spider-Man was a terrible way to transport delicate frosting.
Aunt May was already in the dining room, smoothing out her best linen tablecloth and setting out the good porcelain plates. She looked up and offered a warm smile. "How was your first day of high school?"
"Honestly? Great," Peter said, carefully setting the cake box in the center of the table. "I met two guys who are actually cool. The clubs are interesting. The school has a bizarrely well-funded broadcast network. It was solid."
He left out the part about Carl, dealing with the existential dread of Norman Osborn, and fighting an alien-tech cartel before dinner. High school was exhausting enough without throwing his extracurriculars into the mix.
Peter tapped the top of the bakery box. "Is today a special occasion? You don't usually drop twenty bucks on a bakery cake for a random Tuesday."
May lifted the lid and inspected the frosting. "It's my old friend Anna's birthday. She just moved back to Queens from Pittsburgh. She had to relocate a few years ago to take care of her niece after the poor girl lost her mother." May's eyes softened as she picked up a knife to start portioning. "Ben drove over to the station to pick them up. They should be here any minute."
Peter nodded. It made sense why May was going all out. A woman raising her orphaned niece hit incredibly close to home for the Parkers.
He walked into the kitchen to grab the dessert plates. "Did they find a school for her yet?"
"She's a freshman at Midtown High, actually," May said, pulling a fresh batch of blueberry muffins from the oven. "Just like you and Gwen. I'm surprised you didn't bump into her today."
"Aunt May, there are hundreds of freshmen," Peter chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "And I don't exactly pay attention to girls. Even if I walked right past her, I wouldn't know. Nobody really goes out of their way to introduce themselves to me."
May sighed, shaking her head. "You isolate yourself too much, Peter. You've always kept your circle so small. You need to be more sunny. Put yourself out there."
"I am sunny!" Peter protested defensively. "I made two friends today! They literally agreed to come over this week to build a massive Lego set in the living room."
"Really?" May's eyes lit up. She dropped her oven mitts on the counter. "Oh, Peter, that's wonderful! You have to tell me exactly when so I can make a proper dinner for you boys."
"They're going to love your cooking, May. Everyone—"
The heavy, sputtering rumble of Uncle Ben's ancient Toyota echoed through the living room window.
May handed Peter a stack of napkins. "Be a gentleman and go get the door, Peter."
"On it."
Peter walked into the entryway. His enhanced hearing picked up the sound of car doors slamming, followed by the rapid, light rhythm of sneakers jogging up the porch steps. Someone was moving fast. Peter reached out and yanked the front door open a fraction of a second before the knock could land.
The girl standing on the welcome mat froze.
She hadn't expected the door to swing open on its own. She wore a fitted white t-shirt and light denim cut-offs. A thick mane of vibrant, fiery red hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the golden light of the setting sun. Her knuckles hovered in the air, a bright, confident smile suspended on her face.
She blinked once. Then, she leaned a hand against the doorframe, her smile shifting into a wicked, knowing smirk.
"Face it, Tiger," she said, her voice dripping with casual confidence. "You just hit the jackpot."
Next door, Gwen Stacy sat cross-legged on her bed, intensely hunched over her laptop screen. She was scrolling through a massive playlist of beginner drum kit tutorials. Her visit to the Midtown rock band tryouts had been a revelation. She had grown up doing strict, classical ballet, but the heavy, uninhibited rhythm of the drum kits vibrating through the gymnasium floor had completely hooked her.
"Dad is going to call me a burnout," Gwen muttered to herself, scrubbing a hand over her face. "He is absolutely going to say I'm hanging out with hippies."
She closed the laptop, debating whether she should walk down to the precinct and bring her dad a sandwich for his inevitable overtime shift.
Before she could stand up, the heavy thud of the front door closing echoed up the stairs.
Gwen crept out of her bedroom and peered over the banister. George Stacy stood in the living room. He was already shrugging off his heavy NYPD tactical jacket, tossing it over the back of the sofa.
"Wait. You're home?" Gwen asked, jogging down the stairs. "The sun is still out."
"It's a miracle, I know," George groaned, stretching his back until it popped. "You can thank Spider-Man. He stopped a bank vault from collapsing this morning, and then he ripped the roof off a getaway car full of high-tech cartel guys this afternoon. Paperwork is already filed. My desk is clear."
George opened his arms for a hug.
Gwen stopped at the bottom of the stairs, her arms glued to her sides. She stared at him. "Seriously? We're doing a bear hug?"
George dropped his arms, looking slightly embarrassed. "What? A father can't hug his kid? You passed out the second you got home from London last night, and I shipped out before you woke up this morning. We haven't seen each other all summer."
Gwen smiled, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I missed you too, Dad." She pulled back. "Wait. If Spider-Man is doing your job for you, why does the Daily Bugle constantly run headlines calling him a menace?"
"Jameson is a loudmouth," George snorted, walking into the kitchen and pulling a cold beer from the fridge. "He respects the Avengers because they have press secretaries. Vigilantes make him paranoid." George cracked the beer open. "Funny thing about Spider-Man, actually. Before he figured out how to write messages out of that web fluid, he used to leave sticky notes taped to muggers. I swear the handwriting looked familiar, but I could never put a name to it."
Gwen's breath hitched. She thought about the red sneakers.
"Could it be Peter?" Gwen asked, trying to sound casual.
George paused with the bottle halfway to his mouth. He blinked, staring at his daughter, before bursting into loud, booming laughter.
"Peter? Peter Parker?" George chuckled, shaking his head. "Not a chance in hell. The notes looked like a teenager wrote them, sure, but I know Peter's handwriting. The kid writes like a typewriter. Definitely not him."
"Did you keep the notes?" Gwen pressed. "Maybe I could look at them. I might recognize the handwriting from school."
"Evidence is sealed in the basement of the precinct, kiddo," George said, his tone shifting back to cop-mode. He set the beer down. "Anyway, I need to head next door. Think I should change into a button-down?"
Gwen frowned. "Why?"
"Because Ben Parker practically threw himself over you when that bank exploded this morning," George said seriously. "I need to look the man in the eye and thank him for keeping you safe."
"Spider-Man kept us safe, technically."
"Yeah, well, Spider-Man doesn't have a doorbell," George countered. "Ben does."
"Just wear a clean t-shirt," Gwen advised, grabbing her keys. "We're just going over for dinner. I know May baked today. I can smell the muffins from here."
Two minutes later, George knocked heavily on the Parkers' front door.
Ben pulled it open, a wide grin on his face. Warm, chaotic chatter spilled out from the dining room behind him.
"George!" Ben said, slapping the captain on the shoulder. "Didn't expect you off the clock this early. May was just saying we needed to run a plate over to Gwen. Come on in, we've got plenty of food."
"It sounds like you're hosting, Ben. I don't want to intrude—"
"Nonsense," Ben waved him inside. "The more the merrier."
Gwen slipped past her dad, walking straight toward the dining room. She poked her head around the corner to see who the Parkers were entertaining.
Her stomach violently dropped into her shoes.
Mary Jane Watson?
The gorgeous, red-haired girl Gwen had met at the rock band tryouts just three hours ago was sitting at Peter's dining table. Gwen's scalp prickled with pure panic. She had spent twenty minutes complaining to Mary Jane about how much her police captain father hated rock music. If Mary Jane opened her mouth, Gwen was completely dead.
Gwen looked at Peter. He was sitting rigidly in his chair, aggressively cutting a muffin into microscopic pieces while Mary Jane talked at him with the effortless charm of a social butterfly. He looked entirely out of his depth.
I need to shut her up before Dad walks in here, Gwen thought.
"Hey! Gwen!" Mary Jane beamed, spotting her in the doorway.
Peter's head snapped up. He immediately pushed his chair back, subtly sliding away to create a physical buffer between himself and the two girls.
Aunt May walked in carrying a pitcher of water, looking completely delighted. "Oh! You girls already know each other?"
"We're classmates," Mary Jane smiled brightly.
Gwen felt the blood drain from her face. She forced a stiff nod. "Yep."
May clapped her hands together. "This is wonderful! Peter, see? This is exactly what I was talking about. You need to expand your circle." May turned as George walked into the room. "George, come in. This is Anna, my oldest friend. Anna, this is Captain George Stacy. The best neighbor in Queens."
George extended his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Anna. And it's great to see Gwen already making friends. High school is a big transition..."
George's voice faded into the background as Gwen felt the proverbial sword dangling over her neck. She couldn't text Mary Jane to keep quiet. She had to hijack the narrative immediately.
"So, about the club fair today—" Mary Jane started.
"We met at the dance team booth!" Gwen practically shouted, cutting Mary Jane off completely.
The adults stopped talking and looked at her.
Mary Jane blinked, looking at Gwen's wide, panicked eyes. A second later, the redhead's smile returned, smooth and flawless.
"Exactly," Mary Jane nodded smoothly. "The dance team booth."
Peter kept his head down, desperately chewing on a dry piece of muffin to keep from laughing.
The adults lost interest in the teenage awkwardness and went back to their conversation. Gwen slid into the empty chair next to Peter. She leaned over, dropping her voice to a harsh whisper.
"See?" Gwen muttered proudly. "I am way better at making friends than you."
Peter didn't look up from his plate. "Is that why you're forcing your new friends to lie to your dad on day one?"
Gwen brought the heel of her white sneaker down hard, stomping directly onto Peter's toes under the table.
Peter's jaw clamped shut. He forced a tight, agonizing smile, nodding at Mary Jane across the table before letting out a long, defeated sigh.
PS: Fun Marvel Fact! "Face it, Tiger. You just hit the jackpot." Mary Jane Watson's entrance in this chapter is a perfect recreation of her absolute legendary debut in The Amazing Spider-Man #42 (1966)! After months of Aunt May trying to set Peter up on a blind date with her friend Anna's niece, Peter finally opens the door and gets his mind blown. It's great to see MJ making a classic entrance here... especially considering how much modern comic runs have put her character through the wringer lately (we don't talk about the Paul era). Hope you enjoyed the chaos of the dinner party collision!