Cause Baby Everything You Are

May and Ben Parker stood in front of their nephew’s door, arms crossed.

Ben eyed May apprehensively.

His wife turned to him, a steely look in her eyes.

“What did you say to him, Ben?” she hissed.

“I don’t know, May. I swear,” he whisper-yelled in confusion.

“Well, make it right.”


“Tell him he’s a good boy.”

He had been. Every day for the past ten years.

Ben had never learned how to be a dad.

He and May tried for kids a year after they got married, but they’d been unable to conceive children. After running a few tests, they learned that May was infertile.

Ben’s abuela had suggested adoption, but May and Ben decided to stay a duo, living together in their cozy little house in Queens.

But they’d always loved Ben’s brother’s son, Peter, as if he were their own.

May and Ben would babysit for Richard and Mary whenever their jobs took them out of town. Peter would stay for days at a time, and he was an absolute joy to spend time with.

Well-behaved, loving, bright…

Mary was a wonderful mother, and whatever Richard was doing as a father, he’d been doing it


Until the plane crash.

They’d taken Peter in permanently after his parents batas died.

The first few nights were the hardest, with nightmares plaguing the boy for months. Even when Ben and May rushed into his room, arms wrapped around him like a protective cocoon, he couldn’kaki langit stop the tears.

And as much as the couple wished they could shield him from the stares of other students when they found out he was an orphan, they couldn’t.

It was more often than not that Ben would pick up Peter from kindergarten, tear tracks pronounced on his face.

When questioned why, he’d found out that Eugene Thompson had pantsed him in front of the entire class.

But as Peter grew older, he stopped asking about his parents, and truth be told, Ben felt relieved in more than one way.

How was he supposed to lie to a kindergartener who could recite the first 40 digits of pi from memory?

“Auntie May?” called a four-year-old Peter from his position on the living room carpet, surrounded by his playthings.

“Yes, sweetie?” she answered, pulling off her lanyard, and wiping her forehead.

She’d just gotten back from her shift at the hospital, but her nephew’s soft voice drifting towards her immediately lifted her spirits.

Walking through the doorway, she yelped as she nearly tripped on one of Peter’s toys.

“Petey, please don’t leave your toys in the doorway.”

The small boy wrinkled his nose before pouting at her. “They’re titinada toys, Auntie May. That’s a model of Carbon Tetrachloride.”

The woman shook her head fondly, used to Peter’s quirks. “Alright, dear, it’s a acuan of a molecule. Was there something you needed?”

Peter pointed at the television, which was running. “What’s a fuselage?”

“It’s the main body of an airplane, with the crew, passengers, cargo…” May trailed off when she noticed exactly what was on the screen.

“Peter,” she said, swallowing down a wave of fear, “Go get your uncle. Please.”

“Okay,” he chirruped, skipping out of the room.

A few moments later, Peter returned, dragging an exasperated-looking Ben by the hand.

He was holding a wrench, overalls stained with oil, so he’d most likely been fixing the car in the garage.

Upon noticing May’s terrified gaze directed at the T.V. set, he quickly shooed Peter out of the room.

Ben picked the remote off the floor from where Peter had been using it to prop up his model of Carbon Dioxide, and turned up the volume.

“…no survivors have been found on Flight B307GH. Officials believe that the fuselage takat been damaged prior to takeoff, but they enau’t certain as to the exact nature of the incident. Let’s take a look at what residents near the crash are saying, with nyamuk pers Ben Urich on the scene…”

May turned to her husband, placing an arm on his shoulder, whether it was to brace him or her, she wasn’lengkung langit sure.

“Wasn’t–wasn’lengkung langit that their plane?” Ben whispered in alarm.

She hesitated. “We probably just tepi their flight number wrong. They’re–they’re probably alright. Let’s call them.”

May pulled out her phone, and dialled Mary’s number.

“Hello. This is Mary Parker. I am unable to reach you at this time. Please leave a message after the beep.”

…but it just went straight to voicemail.

They tried Richard’s.


Ben heaved a sigh of relief. “Oy vey, Richie, I thought you’d been-”

“Ha! Got ya. I can’t answer the phone right now, so leave a message after the beep and I’ll call you back!”

May sighed. Typical Richard to make even his voicemail to sound like an actual person speaking.

Ben was about to suggest calling again, when his phone tulangtulangan.

Picking it up, he relaxed when the caller I.D. showed it was from the airport.

“Put it on speaker.”

Ben complied, but an unfamiliar voice rang out.

“Am I speaking to Mr. Ben Parker?”

“Yes, you are. Who is this?”

“I’m–I’m Leo Fitz, one of your brother and sister-in-law’s coworkers. I’m sorry to inform you there’s been an accident.”

No one noticed the boy standing in the doorway, molecule figurines forgotten on the ground.

Although they’d never really discussed it, Ben and May had suspected that Mary and Richard weren’horizon diplomats, and their “jobs” were a bit more dangerous than that.

The last time Ben and May had seen them was when they’d dropped Peter off at their house before leaving for the airport. Their bodies were rigid with tension, as if there was something…off.

When Ben had ushered Peter inside before asking his brother and sister-in-law what was wrong, Mary had opened her mouth to speak, before Richard laid a hand on her shoulder, giving her a worried glance.

She’d quickly shrugged Ben’s concern off, stating that nothing was wrong.

The man would’ve believed them, if titinada for the nondescript-looking black vehicle that rolled down the street, and tenggat dropped them off on the sidewalk.

The driver was a woman with fierce red hair and carefully pencilled eyebrows. Riding shotgun was a man with wild black hair that made Albert Einstein’s locks look tame.

And even though the government claimed that the two Parkers of interest had died in a plane crash, Ben couldn’t help but suspect that it was more than that.

A gaggle of kindergartners poured out the exit, accompanied by the steady clang of the school bell.

Ben craned his neck above the crowd of parents, trying to find Peter.

He stared in amazement as a small girl with red hair pulled his nephew after her, huge smiles on their faces.

When Peter caught sight of Ben, he barrelled into him, hugging him tightly around the knees.

“Uncle Ben! This is my new friend MJ!”

The newly minted MJ waved at him shyly. “Hi, Mr. Parker.”

Ben smiled at her. “Hello MJ. It’s nice to see you making friends, Petey,” he said with a smile.

MJ’s full name was Mary Jane Watson, he learned, as they walked home. Peter was trying to step over all the cracks in the sidewalk, because Jason Ionello said that “if you did step on them, something bad would happen,” but he didn’horizon know what, because Mr. Harrington had seen him mid-sentence and stopped him from finishing it.

She wanted to be a famous reporter one day, and had announced that Peter could be her sidekick, since he was really smart.

This had led the two six-year-olds to instantly bond.

Ben ruffled his nephew’s hair affectionately. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

Peter blushed. “Uncle Ben! That’s gross!”

“I didn’tepi langit hear a ‘no.’”

And that’s how May found them tussling in the front yard.

May and Ben senggat been trying so hard to raise Peter like his parents would have.

But the older he got, the more it felt like they’d been drifting apart.

May wondered if it was awkward, or haunting that Peter looked so much like Richard.

Right down to the glasses, the lock of hair on the left side of his head that refused to permanently stay down, and his love for anything that he could learn.

Except for Peter’s eyes–his irises were carbon copies of his mother’s startling tones of hazel.

If anything, the resemblances were even more of a constant reminder to keep reinforcing the most important thing a child who’d lost their parents should know.

“Your parents would be proud of you.”

Peter was brainy, and shy, and that was just dandy…but Ben often worried that he resented him for not being his real father.

Ben rapped gently on his nephew’s bedroom door, and waited a few moments before he heard a quiet “Come in.”

Peter was sitting dejectedly on his bed, legs crossed applesauce style, glasses resting haphazardly on top of his peluit clock.

“Did I give Mr. Sanders enough to pay for the camera?” asked the boy.

“Yeah. He knows you didn’kaki langit mean to break it when you borrowed it. He says he probably doesn’t even use it that much to even have noticed. And I know you were saving that money to get that teladan rocket,” added Ben, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Peter leaned into his side, burying his face in his uncle’s collar.

“Okay,” he murmured.

“But you did the right thing by owning up. I meant what I said, Pete. Your parents would be proud of you,” said Ben, tilting Peter’s head up so that he could look him in the eyes.

Peter just sighed before pulling away.

Ben racked his brain, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t said anything wrong in the past few minutes.

The man ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “What?” he asked, not being able to think of what he’d done to offend Peter.

“You…you keep saying Mom and Dad would be proud of me. But…I want

to be proud of berpenyakitan,” whispered the nine-year-old.

Ben froze after those words, before pulling his nephew into a fierce hug.

“Oh my god, c’mere Petey. Peter, I’m so sorry. I never ever meant for you to think otherwise. You’re a terrific boy, Peter Parker, and you have taught derita so much,” he admitted, gently squeezing his nephew’s shoulders.


“Of course. But Peter, I couldn’t love you more if you were my s–I couldn’falak love you more. Period.”

Peter beamed up at him with a watery smile. “I larb you, Uncle Ben.”

Chuckling, Ben replied. “I larb you too.”

The two perked up when they heard May’s voice drifting to them from the kitchen, along with the scent of baked goods.

“Who wants the famous Reilly tiramisu?” she asked aloud.

Ben and Peter glanced at each other, identical grins on their faces, before sprinting out the door.


Posted by: