[Third Person Pov]
As Peter stood in his room getting ready, he gave himself one last look in the mirror. The reflection staring back at him was a far cry from his usual self—he was dressed sharply in a sleek three-piece suit, hair neatly combed for once instead of sticking out everywhere. He adjusted his tie, straightened his jacket, and smiled faintly at his own reflection. Just as he reached for his cufflinks, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in…" he said, still tugging at the lapels to make sure everything sat perfectly.
The door creaked open, and Uncle Ben peeked his head inside before letting out a sharp, approving whistle. "Well, look at you! Don't you clean up nice? You're looking pretty snazzy, young man."
Peter smirked, turning toward him. "Not looking bad yourself, old man. You're quite the silver fox, you know that?"
Ben chuckled as he stepped into the room, smoothing out his own suit jacket. "You know, you didn't have to go all out like this," Peter continued, raising an eyebrow. "I'm the one who's supposed to stand up on a podium and give a speech. You could've just gone with the casual 'supportive uncle' look."
Ben scoffed good-naturedly. "And let you hog all the attention? Not a chance. Besides, we're going to be right there beside you when you open it. It's a special occasion, Pete. It's been a long time since either May or I had a reason to dress up like this. We're just enjoying the moment."
Peter rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. "Guess I can't argue with that logic."
Ben motioned for Peter to come closer. "Anyway, I wanted to give you something before we head out. Something I think you'll appreciate."
Peter tilted his head curiously as Uncle Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded blue tie.
"Wow," Peter said with mock enthusiasm. "A tie! Just what every guy dreams of getting before a big day."
Ben rolled his eyes. "Don't get smart with me," he said, walking over and taking the tie Peter was wearing off without asking. "You'll like this one better. Trust me."
Peter blinked as Ben began looping the new tie around his neck, expertly adjusting it. "It belonged to your father, you brat," Ben said quietly.
The air shifted immediately. Peter froze, his mouth half-open. "Ah—sorry," he said softly, his tone suddenly more sincere. His ears turned red as guilt settled in.
Ben just chuckled, brushing it off. "Relax, kid. I know it isn't much, but I thought you should have it. I'm sure your father would've wanted that."
Peter's gaze dropped to the tie, fingers brushing the soft fabric once Ben finished. It was a simple design, deep blue with faint silver threading. "Thanks," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ben patted him on the shoulders, giving one of them a firm squeeze. "I just know he'd be proud of the man you're becoming," he said warmly. "I know I sure am."
Peter groaned and rubbed his face, trying to hide his growing embarrassment. "Please, can we not do this? You know I don't handle sentimental stuff well."
"Too bad," Ben said cheerfully, gripping both of Peter's shoulders to stop him from escaping. "You're just gonna have to deal with it. I'm proud of you, son. And so is your aunt. What you're doing today—it matters more than you realize. You're going to make a real difference out there."
Peter winced dramatically, half-smiling. "You're really laying it on thick, huh?"
Ben chuckled, undeterred. "Listen, you already help more people than anyone could count as Spider-Man. But what you're doing now—this is something different. You're helping those who don't have a voice. People who need someone to stand up for them even when there's no immediate danger, no villain to fight. Not every cry for help comes with sirens blaring. And I think… I think you've always understood that better than most."
Peter sighed in mock agony, his face twisted as though he were enduring great torture. "Man, you're honestly killing me here."
Ben just laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, shut up and give me a hug."
Before Peter could protest, Ben pulled him into a strong, fatherly embrace. For a moment, Peter hesitated—but then he relaxed, closing his eyes as he returned it. Neither said anything else, but the silence between them was filled with unspoken understanding, love, and pride that needed no words.
There was a sudden snap! of a camera shutter, and both Peter and Ben turned toward the doorway. Aunt May stood there, phone in hand, a smug little smile spreading across her face. She looked absolutely radiant—her hair pinned neatly, her eyes soft and glistening. She placed a hand over her chest as tears welled up, her voice trembling between laughter and emotion.
"Look at my two strong men…" she said, clearly holding back a sniffle. "A girl couldn't be any happier."
Peter blinked, his brows knitting in confusion as he looked between the two of them. "Okay," he said slowly, "what is going on with you two? Did you both eat something filled with sentimentality this morning or something?"
He motioned toward Aunt May with a helpless gesture. "She's pregnant, so I completely understand what's going with her, but you, my good sir—" he said, pointing dramatically at Uncle Ben and giving his shoulder a pat, "—you have absolutely no excuse."
Uncle Ben just laughed, thoroughly entertained by Peter's exasperation.
"Oh hush," Aunt May said playfully, waving off Peter's teasing as she wiped at her eyes. "Actually, I have something to show you." Her lips curled into a grin
Peter sighed dramatically, "Is it another tie?" he deadpanned.
Aunt May just giggled, shaking her head. "Not even close." She stepped aside, reaching behind her, and from around her legs peeked a small head of soft brown hair tied into two pigtails. The little girl who appeared had wide, shimmering amber eyes and a smile so bright it could've powered all of New York. She wore a frilly dress decorated with little daisies, and the way she beamed made the whole room feel warmer.
"Hello!" she chirped in a sweet, high-pitched voice.
Peter gasped dramatically and clutched his chest. "Ugh, she's too precious! My heart—my poor heart—can't handle this level of cuteness!"
The little girl, Aria, let out a shy giggle and covered her mouth, her shoulders bouncing as she laughed. Without hesitation, Peter crouched down and opened his arms wide. "C'mere, you little heartbreaker," he said, scooping her up effortlessly and spinning her around as she squealed in delight.
Uncle Ben smiled warmly at the sight while Aunt May glanced at her watch. "Alright, boys, playtime's over," she said gently. "We better get going—MJ and her mother are already waiting for us outside."
Peter adjusted Aria on his arm and nodded. "Right, right. Big day. Gotta make a good impression and all that."
As they began heading out, Uncle Ben asked, "What about Gwen? Is she going to be coming with her dad?"
"Yeah," Peter said with a grin, "I kinda hired George as a personal security detail for the event, so he'd have to show up."
Ben arched a brow, intrigued. "Oh, really? Knowing him, I bet he loved that."
Peter snorted. "Oh, you have no idea. I had to go through hoops to make it happen. I had to talk to someone higher up the chain, make a generous 'charitable donation,' pay the man's security fee—it cost me close to half a million when it was all said and done." He said with a wicked smirk spreading across his face. "But it's going to be so worth it when I see his face and make him call me boss."
Ben shook his head, chuckling under his breath. "I honestly pity George for having a son-in-law like you."
"Please," Peter said with a grin, "I'm the best thing that ever happened to that man. He just doesn't know it yet."
As they stepped outside, the morning air greeted them—bright, crisp, and full of that early buzz of city life. Parked near the curb was a sleek car, and beside it stood MJ and her mother.
MJ was radiant as ever, wearing a flowing red dress that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. The moment her eyes landed on Peter, her grin widened mischievously. She made a little catcall before pretending to pull an invisible slot machine lever, adding sound effects under her breath—"ching, ching, ching!"—then she threw her fist up and shouted, "Jackpot!"
Peter burst out laughing, shaking his head in disbelief. "You are such a dork," he said affectionately.
MJ's mother pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something about "theatrics," while Aunt May just looked utterly delighted.
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