Chapter 8: "Dreams, Decisions, and Dormmates"
In which Peter learns to share his room, confronts the weight of justice, and Naruto drops wisdom like a sensei with an overdue monologue quota.
The yellow taxi screeched to a stop like it had just won a race it hadn't entered.
Peter stood by the curb in the shadows, holding an unconscious girl in his arms like it was the most normal thing in the world.
To be fair, this was New York, where no one asked questions unless it directly involved pizza or subway delays.
The driver rolled down the window, squinting at Peter and the girl he was carrying bridal-style.
"You uh… want me to call an ambulance, kid?"
Peter shook his head quickly. "No, no—she's just exhausted. Long day. She fainted."
The driver raised an eyebrow. "Exhausted, huh?"
Peter gestured with his chin to the ID hanging from her jacket. "She's a student. Empire State. My classmate."
"…And you're taking her home?"
"I don't know where she lives," Peter admitted. "So… yeah. My place."
The driver stared for a beat longer.
Peter winced. "That sounded way worse than it is."
He was already sweating, and not because of the weight. Though, side note—Jessica had serious muscle mass. Super strength didn't come cheap.
The driver sighed and unlocked the doors. "Fine, but if she wakes up and screams, I'm pulling over and calling every authority I can think of."
"Fair."
Peter opened the backseat door and gently slid Jessica in, careful not to bump her head. She murmured something unintelligible, curled up, and snuggled into his jacket like it was a sleepover.
Great. Now she looked even more vulnerable. Just fantastic.
Peter climbed in beside her and gave the driver his address.
As the cab took off through the city, Peter stared out the window, his heart still racing.
Not because of the near-death situation with Killgrave.
Not because of the purple man's trauma-inducing powers.
Nope.
Because he was in a taxi… alone… with a girl in his lap.
A pretty girl.
Wearing a leather bodysuit.
Whose head was now resting on his shoulder.
"This is a test," Naruto's voice said inside his head.
"Of your spiritual and hormonal discipline."
"Don't fail."
"I'm not failing," Peter muttered under his breath.
The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "You say something, kid?"
"Nope. Just, uh, mentally reviewing for a chemistry exam."
"…While holding Sleeping Beauty in a biker outfit."
"Yep."
The driver huffed. "Man, college is wild these days."
Peter resisted the urge to melt into the seat.
He looked down at Jessica. Her breathing was steady now. She looked peaceful, even… soft.
And completely oblivious to the fact that she'd just unloaded years of trauma on him before passing out like a cellphone with 1% battery.
He whispered quietly, "You're safe now, Jess."
The taxi hit a bump, and Jessica stirred.
She mumbled something that sounded like "No lemon in the cookies," and Peter blinked.
"…Okay."
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up outside the Parker residence.
"Here you go," the driver said, turning off the meter. "You want help carrying her?"
Peter shook his head. "Thanks, but I've got it."
He paid, adding a generous tip to hopefully make the driver forget this ride ever happened, and stepped out of the cab.
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Ben Parker had seen a lot in his years—corrupt politicians, rising crime rates, and that one time a pigeon declared war on his tomato garden. But nothing quite prepared him for the sight of his nephew walking through the door, carrying an unconscious girl like some modern fairytale prince with excellent posture.
"Peter," Ben said, eyes narrowing but voice calm. "What happened?"
Peter, still in his regular clothes but looking like someone who'd just wrestled with destiny and won, walked in and gently laid Jessica down on the living room sofa like she was made of glass.
"I came across an incident," Peter said with a tired shrug. "Naruto decided to help me out."
Ah yes. Naruto. The immortal ninja demi who had decided Peter was worth mentoring. As far as excuses went, it ranked somewhere between "I got held up in traffic" and "a ninja decided to temporarily possess me."
May's concern kicked in immediately. She stepped closer and gently cupped Peter's face, scanning it like she was searching for microfractures in his soul.
"You didn't get hurt, did you?"
Peter smiled, touched by her concern. "No, Mom, I'm fine. There wasn't any action this time—just a rescue. But I did bring back someone from my past."
He gestured to the sleeping girl on the couch.
"Jessica Jones. Friend from middle school. She's also a superhero. Super strength, flight, and some kind of energy stuff."
Ben blinked slowly. "Middle school, huh?" He nodded approvingly. "She's grown into quite a powerhouse then."
Peter nodded. "Yeah. Today she… she almost got hurt. Badly. I couldn't let that happen."
Ben stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Not one of those brief, awkward pats. A real, tight, I'm-proud-of-you-and-I-don't-care-who-knows-it hug.
"You did good, son."
Peter's heart swelled. His uncle wasn't flashy with praise, but when it came—it meant something.
Meanwhile, May was watching Jessica.
Tall. Athletic. Soft facial features even while unconscious. Definitely striking. And from the looks of it… emotionally exhausted.
May's eyes narrowed slightly.
She didn't judge—not at all. But she analyzed.
Peter had never brought a girl home before. Not even once. Not even when he accidentally grew a full beard overnight and got complimented by half his class.
She knew he had attention—after all, he had brains, heart, and a jawline that had recently gotten suspiciously sharper.
But he had never acted on it.
And now? A girl in a leather jumpsuit. Sleeping on her couch.
May hummed.
'Interesting.'
"What happened to her?" she asked, keeping her tone light.
"She's just exhausted," Peter replied. "She'll stay here tonight. I'll make sure she's okay."
"Of course," May said. Her face was calm, but inside? Her motherly radar was on high alert and actively scanning.
As Peter trudged upstairs to drop his things off, probably to practice whatever mystical power Naruto was teaching him next (knitting? shadow clones? shoulder rubs?), May moved toward the couch.
She returned moments later with a soft blanket and gently tucked it around Jessica's shoulders.
The girl murmured something in her sleep—something about lemon cookies—and curled up tighter.
May paused, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
"Rest easy, sweet girl," she whispered.
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Ben Parker was a man of peace.
He liked his eggs sunny-side up, his coffee black, and his evenings free of unnecessary emotional entanglements. So when May's smile turned just a little too innocent—like a cat about to "accidentally" knock a glass off the counter—he knew.
She was about to meddle.
"Don't say it," Ben muttered as he sat at the dinner table.
May blinked, all wide-eyed sweetness. "Say what?"
He gave her a look. The look. The one that said I've known you since the Reagan administration and you're not slick, lady.
May just hummed and scooped mashed potatoes onto his plate with the grace of a woman who definitely had a plan.
Ben sighed. "Let the boy handle it."
May arched an eyebrow. "Handle what?"
"You know what," he said, gesturing vaguely toward the ceiling—specifically, to the second floor where Peter and his guest were now likely settling in for the night.
"I'm just saying," May said, her tone way too casual, "it's not every day a girl like that ends up passed out on your couch in a leather suit. There's a story there."
Ben shook his head. "May. Come on. Did my father come and talk to you about our relationship?"
"No," she said, smirking. "But your father also didn't have the spine to get involved even if your mother had dated a literal pirate."
"She did date a guy with a parrot once," Ben grumbled.
May laughed and gave his shoulder a playful smack. "You're just upset I have better instincts."
"I'm only a brute when it counts," Ben said with mock indignation, "otherwise I'm gentle."
"Bah," May said with a fond grin as she leaned against him.
They ate in warm silence for a few minutes, the scent of roast chicken and roasted vegetables filling the room. But even as they dined, May's thoughts wandered.
Back to a time when she hadn't been May Parker yet.
Once upon a time, May Reilly had her life mapped out with the precision of a tax auditor. Marry rich, live comfortably, and never worry about things like coupons or heating bills.
Ben Parker? He'd been sweet. Honest. Earnest in a way that made her laugh—but also made her think he couldn't possibly compete.
So she'd said no.
Instead, she said yes to a man with a polished smile, a sharp suit, and the bank account to match.
Until one day, Ben came rushing to her front door, sweat on his brow and urgency in his voice.
"May," he said, "that man you're engaged to… he was involved in a robbery. He shot someone."
She'd thought he was jealous. Trying to scare her.
Then her fiancé had shown up not five minutes later. Calm voice. Frantic eyes.
"Marry me. Now."
She asked if what Ben said was true.
The guilt that flickered across his face answered everything.
Her silence was the last decision she had to make.
He ran. Was arrested within the hour.
And from that day on, Ben Parker didn't seem so "average" anymore.
He was solid. Real. The kind of man who didn't offer dreams of grandeur, but promises he meant.
They'd built a life out of honesty and simplicity. No mansions. No yachts. But there was love.
And, more recently, one very special boy who was now turning into something… extraordinary.
Back in the present, May looked across the table at the man she'd once overlooked.
Still her Ben.
Still the one who could make her laugh with just a grunt and a raised eyebrow.
Still the man who reminded her why she'd walked away from everything else.
She smiled softly, then reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
"You're thinking about something," Ben said, between bites of green beans.
"Just counting my blessings," May replied.
He smiled. "One of them better be me."
"You're at the top of the list," she said with a wink.
Ben grinned. "Right above your knitting kit and reruns of Columbo, huh?"
"Barely," she teased.
As they chuckled, upstairs a certain superhero-teenager was adjusting his life around power, destiny, and… possibly his first real houseguest who wasn't a guy.
And May?
She might have been "letting him handle it"…
But the extra set of bedsheets and the fresh towels she'd already laid out told a slightly different story.
---------------------------
To be absolutely clear, Peter had no plans to freak out.
Yes, a very attractive, very unconscious superheroine was sleeping in his bed. Yes, this was the first time he'd ever shared a room with someone who wasn't a genetically mutated spider. And yes, her breathing was calm and soft and definitely distracting if he let himself focus on it.
But he was fine.
Totally, completely, awkwardly fine.
He had dragged over a blanket and pillow to the floor. He'd offered the bed. He'd done the whole gentleman routine. And when she shifted slightly in her sleep and mumbled something about "never drinking orange soda again," Peter absolutely did not panic.
He did, however, crash.
Hard.
The second his head hit the pillow on the floor, he was out.
When he opened his eyes, he was in the forest again.
The dreamscape.
The leaves shimmered with chakra. The sky above looked like it had been painted by Van Gogh on a day he was feeling particularly cosmic. It was peaceful, surreal—and of course, standing smack in the middle of it was the blonde sage himself.
Naruto Uzumaki.
Casual lean, crossed arms, hair waving like gravity was just a suggestion.
Peter instinctively straightened his posture.
"How'd you feel about today?" Naruto asked, not wasting time.
Peter blinked, then sighed. "Exhausted. Confused. But glad I acted."
His mind spun through the memories—Killgrave, Jessica, the rooftop, the suit.
"If I hadn't saved her…" he muttered, voice dropping, "I don't think I'd have forgiven myself."
Naruto gave a slow nod, the kind of approval that wasn't loud or flashy—but solid.
"Good. Hold onto that."
He stepped forward, his shadow blending with the trees.
"People will try to tell you what your victories mean. That you should've done more. Or less. Or differently. You'll hear it from all sides—especially once you start making a name."
Peter frowned. "Even if I did the right thing?"
Naruto's smirk didn't reach his eyes. "Especially then."
There was weight in that sentence. More than Peter could unpack in one go.
"Humans are funny. They cling to opinions like anchors, even when they're sinking."
He turned, pacing slowly.
"But not all people are like that. Some will see you—really see you. They'll get it. They'll be worth the pain."
Peter looked down at his hands. "And the others?"
Naruto's eyes flickered, just for a second, with something ancient.
"Let them drown."
It was… a lot.
Peter swallowed hard, processing.
"And what now?"
Naruto grinned—finally some warmth. "Now? We train."
He clapped his hands together. "One month in here is a single night out there. You're getting a crash course in ninja tactics, chakra control, sealing, martial arts, and how to look cool while punching people through walls."
Peter blinked. "Wait, like a time-dilated pocket dimension?"
Naruto shrugged. "You call it that. I call it Tuesday."
Peter almost laughed. "Alright. What's first? Meditation? Sparring?"
Naruto's grin faded slightly.
"First… a question."
He stared straight into Peter's eyes.
"Will you learn to kill?"
The wind stilled.
Peter's breath caught. "…What?"
"I won't force you to," Naruto said gently, "but you'll learn how. Because sometimes, Peter…"
His tone hardened.
"…you'll face something no jail can hold. No system can touch. And they'll keep hurting people until someone stops them permanently."
Peter felt the truth of that. The unfairness of it. The necessity.
"…Kingpin. Osborn," Peter muttered.
Naruto nodded. "And others, worse. Killgrave was nothing. He was step one."
Peter's jaw tightened.
"I'll decide when the time comes."
Naruto gave a slow smile. "That's all I ask."
Then, without warning—
BAM!
A log flew out of nowhere.
Peter yelped and jumped aside just in time to avoid getting flattened.
"What the hell?!"
Naruto spun a kunai on his finger. "Lesson one: always stay alert."
Peter glared. "You did that on purpose."
Naruto shrugged, totally unapologetic. "You were brooding. Had to break the vibe."
And so, under a starless sky in a forest that wasn't real—but felt more real than most dreams—Peter Parker began his next step forward.