Hoppy Easter everyone!

Peter had always been an...odd child, May mused. Not in a bad way, but it still showed if you knew what to look for. And as a nurse, May recognized several worrying signs that would have had her keeping an eye on the family in question.

He was over-eager to please, often doing small chores unasked. The way he would immediately spot where the exits were and paid extra attention to how the adults reacted around him was very telling too. Worse was the time Peter had gotten hurt, from a standard childhood injury.

Unlike most five year olds, Peter didn't cry overly much about the minor cut he had gotten. He had gotten a step stool, went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and got something to clean it up and put a band aid over it without saying a word.

Ben and May had learned very quickly to keep their voices low and not argue around Peter, especially when he came to live with them full time. May knew perfectly well her brother-in-law never harmed Peter...he and Mary were overjoyed with their son and doted on him.

Even still, Peter had all the subtle signs of someone who had been abused in the past.

May did the best she could, even if it made her a little overprotective. But seeing Peter's wide smile when he let his guard down around her was worth it.

Then Ben was killed, and she saw an even more worrying change in her nephew. He withdrew into himself and stayed in his room when not in school.

It wasn't until he presented May with an obviously hand-made necklace that gave off a strange, protective feeling that she found out what he had been up to. The pendant was on an odd, braided thread that was stronger than anything she had ever seen before in her life.

May later found out that the braided thread was actually woven spider-silk. And that the pendant was more than just a trinket Peter had made as a distraction.

Peter's POV

Being reincarnated sucked, but his new family was so much nicer than his last one. Even if he was orphaned at a young age...due to different circumstances, thankfully...his aunt and uncle were like night and day from the last ones he dealt with.

For the first fourteen years, things had been great. He was more than happy to be helpful, and his old training had him checking the exits and potential threats.

He thought he could have a semi-normal life, outside of his magic. He was still unsure if he was happy about that following him, especially since there didn't seem to be any regulating body or specialized schooling. The closest he had come to that sort of thing was a semi-discreet school for mutants in upstate New York. Interesting, but not helpful.

Peter was about to give up hope when he found the oddest library he had ever seen in either life. It was a mixture of occult museum and library.

It even had subtle wards to keep the casual passerby away from it, which was what drew him to it in the first place.

Peter went in, found a random book that looked interesting and sat down to read. It took him several hours to register someone was there and had a curious mixture of bemused and barely hidden tolerance to his presence.

"You are not supposed to be here," she said, in a stern, but kindly tone that was strongly reminiscent of McGonagall. Like she had found him somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, but was polite enough to give him a chance to explain himself before issuing a detention and lost points.

Peter had a confused look on his face.

"This is the library, isn't it?"

"It is a library, but not one open to the public," she replied.

Peter put down his book and began to apologize, but she gently cut him off.

"How did you get past the wards?" she asked. "Most people walk past this place without a second thought, but you walked straight in without any effort at all."

Peter winced.

"I did call out to see if there was a librarian here, but no one answered. And the wards were way too weak for this to be a private area, so I just thought it was a public place to keep out those without the right disposition," he said. Honestly, the Ministry had stronger wards than this place did.

She gave him a flat look.

"What's your name, young one?"

"Peter. Peter Parker," he said. He was not doing a Malfoy impression if he could help it.

Something in her eyes changed, just a bit.

Peter wasn't sure what it was, but the woman had him sitting down drinking some herbal tea that he smelled like some of the weird concoctions Luna had him drink a time or two. Really trippy stuff, but otherwise harmless.

On the plus side, he finally found a place that would help him relearn how to use his magic, since his own training was going rather slowly. His aunt seemed relieved hearing he planned to spend plenty of time with a new hobby making friends.

Peter...didn't want to explain him basically joining what amounted to an international occult, in modern terms. Ones with access to psychedelic teas and supernatural powers, and gave a fourteen year old free access to a massive library of books that would have most people looking askance at the subject matter.

Honestly, he didn't know why people were so squeamish about using dried toad in an herbal remedy. It wasn't like he was killing the things personally, he honestly trusted them more than the modern medicines his aunt used in her work.

Peter knew that spider bite had done something to him, but he didn't feel the need to go out and do something about the petty evils of the world. He wouldn't hesitate to help others using his new abilities, but honestly he preferred a low profile.

Being a hero didn't pay the bills. Being a hero meant late hours, thankless work, and no small amount of dislike from the local cops because having a hero save the day implied that the police weren't enough. And the less said about the super villains that tended to crawl out to challenge said hero for their own damn ego, the better.

Hero work had a really bad habit of drawing said villains right back to his home, where his aunt was. He knew she was strong, as anyone who could work in a hospital as long as she had tended to develop a strong stomach, but that didn't equate to fighting ability.

And all the wards in the world wouldn't keep May safe if she was outside them. All it would take was one hostage situation, and he would be alone again. And that was unacceptable.

So he visited the New York Sanctum, with the permission of the nice lady who reminded him of McGonagall. It took him a few weeks, but eventually he got the hang of traveling between portals to be trained with everyone else. No one questioned his presence, or the fact he would often be seen reading the older, more obscure tomes.

He allowed his mind to drift to the point he completely missed the fact the door was opening, revealing his aunt.

"Peter! What are you doing?!" she said in shock.


May gave her nephew a hard stare, since he was dangling upside down in a complicated and almost bone-breaking pose.

May gave him a hard stare, at least until Peter proved he was able to do several complicated poses without a problem. Poses that only someone who did stretches daily could pull off, as it required a large degree of flexibility.

May sighed. Yoga was a fairly harmless hobby, and at least Peter was doing some safe exercising.

"I don't want you doing the harder exercises without a proper instructor involved."

"I can get an extra yoga mat from the person who showed me the more advanced poses," offered Peter. The invitation was clear, and May could tell he was relieved she wasn't going to stop him.

"I can't do it every day, but it would be nice to have something to share with you," said May, smiling. Peter beamed at her, as he had been wanting to share this with her for a while.

The upside down thing was new though...for whatever reason, he no longer got as nauseous from hanging upside down for extended periods.

May was beyond happy that doing yoga in the mornings (mostly basic stuff, since she wasn't as flexible as Peter) allowed her a brief moment to bond with her nephew.

And if Peter happened to slip a few self-defense moves for her to learn, well that was his business.

That being said, he was glad his aunt didn't notice his sudden interest in sewing his own clothes. He was really annoyed at how vain the other children, especially the popular crowd were about their appearance.

Barry had been commenting of late about how threadbare his own shirts were, and to be fair he was more surprised May hadn't taken him shopping lately for some new clothes as he was swiftly outgrowing his current set.

Perhaps she was waiting for his current growth spurt to settle. It would explain a lot.

Peter looked at the spider-webbing he created thanks to his new powers. He had been testing it extensively since Ben died, and found it to be as strong as acromantula silk, and just as soft. It was easy to enchant too, and very sticky.

While he had never sewn before, he did vaguely remember braiding his daughter's hair and had given it a go. He failed miserably for two hours straight, before going online and looking up tutorial videos.

He was still embarrassed at how bad his first attempts had gone and had destroyed the evidence so May never found out.

At least he never had to worry about running out of thread...it was a pain figuring out how to produce the silk without it becoming too sticky to work with, but it was worth it.

Which was why he was surprised when his aunt May presented him with a kit of some sort.

"What's this?"

"It's a cross stitching kit. I noticed you had a lot of thread in your room recently. If you wanted to try out a new hobby, all you had to do was say something," said May cheerfully. It kept him out of trouble and it was a harmless distraction.

Peter looked at the kit, then at his aunt. Then he sheepishly asked which hobby store she recommended, because he wanted to do more than just stitching.

May beamed at him.

"Why don't we head to the shop together, on my next day off?" she suggested. Anything to keep Peter from retreating into his shell again. Ben's death had done a number on his mental health. There was a reason May had put him into therapy the first chance she had.

A few days later...

Peter, being the mindful sort, grabbed a small hand basket as opposed to the larger cart. He knew they didn't have much to spend, as Ben's death had taken a toll on their financial situation.

May looked at a few shelves herself, though she didn't want to get anything in particular. She was too busy for that, and this was simply a bonding experience for her and Peter.

She was halfway down the paint aisle when she heard an argument. May was already heading towards the commotion before she even realized that she instinctively knew Peter was in trouble.

Or so she thought.

She found a woman she recognized immediately as an incredible nuisance. Peter had a flat look on his face as the woman berated him about 'not helping her', as if he were an employee.

The second she went to grab his arm, he responded in a way that most boys wouldn't have thought to do, generally out of a sense of embarrassment.

"I NEED AN ADULT!" he shouted loudly enough to get the attention of damn near the entire store.

May watched in disbelief as a store employee came over immediately, and rather than let the woman get her lies out first, Peter immediately burst into tears. Fake tears, she would admit, but it was still enough to earn sympathy points.

Peter rarely cried. He had almost shattered when Ben died, and had red eyes for two weeks straight. May wasn't much better, she would admit.

So it was clear to May that the tears on his face were fake as hell, but effective.

The woman looked annoyed that Peter had beat her at her own game, since the employees and manager were clearly on his side.

May stepped in the second she heard a hint of looking for her. She silently hid a grin, and winked at Peter for his performance.

They left the store with a hefty discount, and May couldn't resist commenting on his little act before.

"You should go into theater," said May seriously. "I've never seen someone shut down that woman so fast."

"Maybe as a stage hand," said Peter, with a sheepish smile. "Nothing shuts up people like her than turning the tables against them. Crying minor trumps entitled old hag every time."

May snickered, and made a point to treat her nephew to some ice cream.