233. Olive Branches between Fault Lines. (Patreon)

Peter POV:

It had been nearly a week since the Red Room Academy fell.

Time, I’ve learned, doesn’t heal anything on its own. It just gives you enough distance to decide whether you want to live with the damage or finally do something about it.

Parker Tower had grown louder in that week.

Richard and Mary lived a few floors below me now, along with Teresa. “Temporary.” I’d said. That word had a way of making things easier to accept. Temporary didn’t demand forgiveness. Temporary didn’t demand permanence.

Teresa, though? She didn’t feel temporary.

She moved through the tower like she belonged there. Like she had always belonged there. Which she definitely did.

And Gwen had taken to her like gravity takes to falling objects.

I leaned against the glass wall of my office, staring out at New York. The city had changed.

No… that wasn’t accurate.

I changed it.

Crime was nearly nonexistent. Infrastructure gleamed. The skyline wasn’t just vertical anymore, it was intentional alive with hope, love and life.

“Clanker,” I said without turning, “status on Martian core drilling.”

“The deep core one-way drill will reach the planetary center in seventeen days,” came the calm, synthetic reply of my AI. “Detonation protocols will follow immediately to reinitiate core activity. Asteroid redirection for rotational acceleration will be complete in twenty days.”

“Good,” I said. “And the lunar colony?”

“Phase One habitation modules are complete. Atmospheric domes awaiting deployment.”

Humanity was crawling out of its cradle and I was the one holding the ladder.

“Also,” Clanker continued, “the Russian Federation has completed its transition to the Commissariat of Russia. All assets are now under Parker Industries jurisdiction. The Red Room Museum will open in twenty hours.”

“This'll be a busy week.” I sighed.

“Statistically accurate, sir.”

The city stretched endlessly below me and then I felt it.

Two arms filled with familiar warmth and possessiveness wrapping around my waist.

I didn’t even need to turn.

I tilted my head back slightly, pressing a kiss into soft blonde hair.

“How’s my beautiful wife?” I asked.

Gwen hummed against me, her chin brushing my shoulder. “Oh, you know… just your average New York evening. A couple muggers, three wannabe gangs, one guy in a raccoon costume who insisted he was a supervillain.”

I snorted. “Did you arrest him?”

“I webbed him to a hotdog stand and called it community engagement.”

I turned in her arms, wrapping mine around her waist. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m your menace.” She shot back, smirking.

Her black painted nails dragged slowly across my abdomen through the fabric of my shirt.

I sucked in a breath despite myself.

“Gwen…” I warned, voice lowering.

“What?” she said innocently, leaning closer. “I’m just appreciating my husband.”

Her lips brushed my ear, then her teeth.

I exhaled sharply.

“You're playing a dangerous game, honey.” I murmured.

“Good,” she whispered. “I like dangerous.”

I turned fully then, pulling her into me and kissed her.

There was no urgency, no desperation. Just… familiarity and playfulness.

Her split tongue brushed mine in a teasing dance.

It's our dance it's comfort wrapped in fire.

And then... “Ahem.”

We broke apart.

Slowly.

I turned my head.

Teresa stood at the doorway, arms crossed, trying and failing not to laugh.

“Wow,” she said. “I mean… I knew you two were married but did I really need front-row seats?”

Gwen grinned unapologetically. “You’re welcome.”

I rolled my eyes. “You need something, lil sis?”

She tilted her head, considering. Then, completely deadpan, “Yeah. Can you take me to space?”

I blinked.“What?”

She shrugged. “You heard me.”

“I thought you came here with a message from Richard and Mary.”

“Peter,” she said flatly, “they’re grown adults. I’m not their emotional courier pigeon.”

I stared at her for a moment. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“Wow,” she said dryly. “High praise.”

Gwen snorted.

Teresa leaned casually against the wall. “Look, I get it. You’re angry. You have every right to be. Dad tried to manipulate you. Mom stayed silent. And you?”

She gestured vaguely at me.

“You turned half the Golden Triangle into a wasteland to choke out drug empires.”

Gwen blinked. “Wait, that was you?”

I shrugged. “Fuel tanker accident. Very tragic.”

Teresa continued, unfazed. “Myanmar, Thailand, Madripoor, Cambodia—ghost bombing campaigns, black ops purges. The CIA thinks you dismantle criminal networks just so your wife who may or may not be Spider-Woman gets more free time.”

Gwen raised a hand. “Okay, first of all rude. Second of all accurate.”

“Madripoor was a worthwhile investment,” I said. “Tourist hub on the surface, naval research complex underground. Strategic maritime control point. I’ve already assigned the 2nd Naval Fleet Kraken along with Hermes and Gryphon divisions to defend and guard Madripoor.”

Teresa blinked slowly. “You say things like that so casually.”

“I am casual.”

Gwen nudged me. “You’re terrifying.”

“Semantics.”

I exhaled and straightened. “We’re getting sidetracked.”

I looked between them. “I think it’s time I talked to them.”

Gwen and Teresa exchanged a glance then nodded.

“Your call, hubs.” Gwen said tenderly.

“Your move, bro,” Teresa added.

We stepped out together and entered the elevator.

“I wanted to give Uncle Ben, Aunt May and George their own skyscrapers,” I said as we walked. “They refused. Said they wanted to stay close.”

“Good,” Gwen said. “Less walking.”

I knocked and Uncle Ben opened the door.

He took one look at me and understood.

“Come in, kiddo.” He said gently.

We sat and after sometime Richard, Mary, George and DeWolff gathered.

Everyone gathered.

I picked up my coffee,swirled it and watched the liquid move.

“Thank you all for coming,” I said finally. “I know this wasn’t… convenient.”

George leaned forward slightly. “Kid, family doesn’t do convenient. We show up.”

That hit harder than anything and I saw it land on Richard and Mary too.

I set the cup down.

“…Let’s be clear,” I said, voice steady. “I can’t and won’t have a parent-son relationship with you two.”

Mary flinched while Richard closed his eyes briefly.

“I’m not calling you mom or dad,” I continued. “That place is taken. Permanently.”

“But, I don’t want you to be strangers either.”

Their eyes snapped to me.

“I want a relationship with Teresa,” I said. “And whether I like it or not you’re part of that equation.”

They became silent.

“You made your choices,” I went on. “You broke something. Something fundamental.”

My fingers tapped lightly against the table.

“But…” I exhaled. “Time changes things. Not fix them, change them.”

I met their eyes.

“So here’s my offer. We try.”

Mary and Richard's breath audibly hitched.

“We try to build something,” I said. “Not what was, not what should’ve been. Something new. If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”

Tears streamed down Mary's face.

Richard’s voice trembled. “That’s… more than we deserve.”

“I’m aware,” I said calmly.

He nodded. “Then… we’ll earn it.”

I stepped forward and extended my hand.

They both took it.

Mary Fitzpatrick-Parker POV:

I didn’t deserve this.

That was the first thought that anchored me as my fingers wrapped around Peter’s hand.

My son.

No… not my son.

Not really.

Not anymore.

His hand was steady.

Tears blurred my vision but I didn’t let go.

Because if I did, I might never get this chance again.

“We’ll earn it,” Richard said beside me, voice thick.

Peter didn’t respond immediately. He just… looked at us.

Like we were variables in an equation he hadn’t decided to solve yet.

“We’ll see.” He said finally.

And that's more than enough.

Because now there's a door.

Not fully open but no longer locked either.

Then, A chime.

Peter’s eyes shifted.

“Sir,” Clanker’s voice echoed faintly.

“Yes?”

“King T’Chaka passed away five hours ago.”

He glanced at us. “Looks like the universe isn’t done complicating things.”