The Man Formely Known as Spider

Peter Parker knows, logically at least, that a fiftysomething year old man should not be so excited about fireworks. At this age, though, Peter's mature enough to know he's really just a big kid in an old man's body (responsibility hangups aside).

A bored kid in an old man's body. The house was deserted for now. MJ had gone to run errands and took Ben with her. May was off patrolling for any idiots who used a patriotic holiday as an excuse to terrorize people. His buddies at the station were spending the day with their families. Peter Parker was all alone, with a bag of fireworks.

Well, not really alone, but a nephew dozing upstairs didn't count as company. Then again, these days an awake nephew wasn't much company, either. Peter didn't ask for details when May had brought Reilly home. The traumatized look in the boy's eyes didn't exactly inspire his thirst for the truth, so to speak. Not that he hadn't been trying to get the boy to open up about whatever it was that happened to him, but Peter had been an uncle long enough to know that getting his nephew to talk would take a while. For now, all he could do was offer him somewhere to stay.

And worry. Which helped his boredom, but he didn't want to worry today. It was a holiday, after all. And he had fireworks. Peter Parker was not going to sit in his house, all alone, and worry while he had fireworks.

So that was it. Peter was going to call the one man who would appreciate his predicament. Or at least appreciate the fireworks.

With a soft click, Peter hung up on Captain Ruiz. So that was that. He'd be back to work tomorrow. MJ wouldn't be thrilled about that, and odds were, neither would Mayday. And Reilly -- who knew what that boy thought? (Or where he was? At least he could count on May to call when she was on patrol.) But Peter had more important things to worry about now.

Like whether or not his "alternate" liked his coffee black or with two sugars and one cream. Or why he wanted to have a "chat" in the first place