[Third Person's PoV]
The next day…
Peter sat at the breakfast table with Uncle Ben, Aria, and Aunt May. The once quiet, modest kitchen now felt livelier, filled with soft morning light and the warm scent of fresh coffee and toast. The table, now surrounded by more voices and laughter, had taken on a fuller, more complete feeling—like a family coming into its own.
"We'll need to come up with a solid building plan if we want to expand the house," Peter said thoughtfully, glancing toward Aunt May with a grin. "Especially now, since our family seems to be growing faster than expected."
"You're absolutely right," Uncle Ben added with a nod, leaning back in his chair. "We're going to need a nursery, for starters—not to mention baby-proofing every corner of this place. Cabinets, outlets, stairs, furniture—you name it."
Aunt May sighed, her arms folded as she leaned against the table with a raised brow. She had been listening to this kind of talk non-stop since they discovered she was pregnant. Still, she couldn't bring herself to be annoyed. Deep down, she was touched—if a little exasperated.
"Have you guys ever thought about just buying a new house instead?" Aria asked curiously, sipping her juice. "I mean, wouldn't it be easier? Bigger space, fewer renovations, and probably more cost-effective when you consider all the construction work."
At her words, the entire table fell into a sudden and thoughtful silence. The two older adults plus one teen exchanged looks, blinking at one another as if the very idea had never crossed their minds before.
After a long pause, Aunt May finally broke the silence. "I'm going to say no," she said quietly but firmly, although still cautious of everyone's reaction. "This house… it has a lot of memories. Every wall, every creak in the floorboard reminds me of the life we've lived here. These are memories I want our child to grow up around. I know it might sound selfish…"
Peter reached across the table, gently holding up his hand to stop her mid-sentence. With mock dignity, he raised his glass and cleared his throat. "The Matriarch has spoken! If she decrees we stay, then stay we shall!" he declared in an exaggerated posh English accent.
"Hear, hear!" both Aria and Uncle Ben chimed in, lifting their glasses in mock agreement.
Aunt May laughed, shaking her head with an affectionate smile. "You are all such dorks, I swear."
"I wasn't saying we should sell the house though," Aria clarified as she set her glass down with a soft clink. "You can still own it, of course. We are billionaires, remember?"
The room went silent again as realization dawned on them all over again.
"Oh yeah…" they muttered almost in unison, each in their own sheepish way, as if momentarily forgetting their new financial status.
Aria shook her head with a teasing smirk. "I'll get started on the blueprints."
Peter chuckled and ruffled her hair affectionately. "Appreciate you."
Shifting the conversation, Aunt May turned to Peter with a curious expression. "Speaking of buildings and all that, how's F.E.A.S.T coming along? You've never really given us a proper update."
Peter brightened at the question. "Ah, right. It should be completed and operational by Friday. We're planning to officially open it to the public by Monday. Everything's coming together pretty nicely, actually." He glanced at Aunt May with a soft look before continuing. "Although… now that you're…"
"Now that I'm what? Pregnant?" Aunt May said with a scoff, raising an eyebrow. "You think I can't help just because I'm expecting?"
"It's not that you can't," Uncle Ben jumped in quickly, his voice uncertain.
"It's that you won't let me, is that it?" she replied, narrowing her eyes slightly. Her tone carried just enough sass to put him on alert.
"…It wouldn't be advised," Uncle Ben finished carefully, choosing his words like he was walking a tightrope.
Aunt May rolled her eyes and sat up straighter. "First of all, I just passed the first month of my first trimester. Most people don't stop working until the end of their second—or even the start of their third. I've still got plenty of months left before I slow down."
"Yeah, but the shelter environment might not be the safest for you," Uncle Ben said gently. "There'll be a lot of moving around, lifting, physical tasks… it's going to take a toll."
Aunt May gave him a flat look. "I'm literally a super-soldier, Ben. I have enhanced strength, endurance, and my immune system is stronger than it's ever been. Honestly, I bet even at nine months pregnant, I'd be able to outrun a horse and lift a car."
"Actually…" Peter chimed in before trailing off. "You might get even stronger depending on the hormonal changes during pregnancy. Some studies say—" He paused, shrinking under Uncle Ben's withering stare. "—And that's my cue to shut up," he mumbled, slowly lowering his head until his face disappeared into his plate.
Uncle Ben opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly struggling to find the right words before finally settling on silence. A faint grimace tugged at the corner of his lips. "I really can't argue with that statement," he admitted quietly, "but I guess… I just don't like it. Not personally."
Aunt May smiled gently, placing her hand on top of his with warmth. "I understand, truly I do. But I don't want to spend the next several months just sitting around doing nothing. I know myself, Ben. If I'm idle for too long, I'll feel useless. I need to be doing something that matters."
"Useless?" he repeated with disbelief. "But you're carrying—"
"Yes. Useless," she interrupted, her voice a little firmer than before. "Like the only thing I'm good for now is carrying your child." She sighed, then her tone softened again. "Honestly… it might not seem like it, but I'm extremely thankful for the creation of F.E.A.S.T."
Both Peter and Uncle Ben looked at her in surprise, voicing the same word in unison, "You are?"
"Yes, I am," she confirmed, nodding. "It's a beautiful initiative. It reminds us that we don't need to wear masks or swing from rooftops or shoot webs to be heroes. While Peter saves lives in his own way—using his gifts—we'll be doing our part by helping those in need, our way. It shows that there's more than one definition of heroism."
For a moment, the table went completely silent. Even the soft clinking of cutlery stopped as everyone stared at Aunt May, mid-chew and wide-eyed. Her cheeks flushed crimson under the weight of their silent admiration.
"What?" she asked bashfully, shrinking slightly under the attention. "Why are you all looking at me like that?"
Peter grinned, clearly impressed. "No offense, Aunt May, but… who knew you had it in you?"
Uncle Ben let out another sigh, this one mixed with resignation and fondness. "I can't really argue with something that heartfelt. You've convinced me. I'll support you." He then turned to Peter with a playful glare. "Still, I blame you, kid. Couldn't you have picked a better time to kickstart a massive community project like this?"
"Excuse me?" Peter snapped back indignantly. "I started Project F.E.A.S.T. way before she got pregnant! Nobody asked you to go and lay some pipe during my time!"
"Peter!" Aunt May and Uncle Ben shouted in unison, their faces flaring with embarrassment.
Aria Just sat quietly at the table, sipping her juice with both hands like a child watching a sitcom, her eyes flicking from one adult to the next, silently enjoying the drama.
Eventually, breakfast wrapped up, the teasing subsided, and Peter made his way to his room to get changed. As he slipped on a fitted T-shirt that highlighted his defined physique, Aria phased through the wall and shot across the room like a bullet, stopping with urgency.
"I have news to report," she declared.
"You couldn't have told me through the watch?" Peter asked, raising his wrist and giving it a tap.
Aria tilted her head, looking at him like he'd just asked the obvious. "Why? I'm literally in the house."
"Touché," he muttered. "So, what's going on?"
"Kraven is making a move. He's on his way to meet with the Chameleon," she stated, her expression sharp and focused.
Peter froze, one shoe halfway on. "Is he finally making his play?"
"No. Or, at least I don't believe so," Aria said thoughtfully. "From the surveillance data I've gathered, all he's been doing for the past month is scouting. Observing. Collecting information. It's as if he's studying all of you… looking for weaknesses. Honestly, I think he's wasting his time."
She scoffed slightly, clearly unimpressed by Kraven's tactics.
But when she turned to look at Peter, her playful tone faded. He was hunched over, resting a hand on his chin, eyes narrowed in deep contemplation.
"Father," she said carefully, using the more formal term that indicated seriousness. "Why do you take this Kraven guy so seriously? From everything I've seen and read, he doesn't stand a chance. Against you, against anyone in our team, really. He's… weak. Average."
Peter let out a slow sigh and straightened up. "That's where you're wrong, Aria. And that kind of thinking could get you seriously hurt."
He looked at her, his tone heavy with warning. "Kraven wants you to think he's weak. He plays the part, deliberately. That's his greatest weapon: deception through patience. He's not a brute force enemy; he's a tactician who waits for the perfect opportunity to strike."
Aria frowned, clearly still not fully understanding. "But even if he's patient… What could he possibly do?"
Peter nodded, as if expecting the question. "Do you know why I consider Kraven so dangerous? Why I never underestimate him?"
She shook her head, curious.
Peter's voice dropped low, almost like he was sharing a cautionary tale. "Kraven's most dangerous asset isn't his strength, his money, or even his intelligence. It's his patience. Patience, when weaponized, is dangerous. It allows someone to bide their time, to wait until all your defenses are down, and then strike exactly where it'll hurt the most. Fear not the man with incredible power but the man who understands the value of patience. That's not to say that I fear Kraven, but I'm cautious of him"
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