Forgive, Don't Forget

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Peter made no complaint in following Tony to the room of gifts, but he was definitely a little nervous, despite his attempts to hide it. He didn't want to see everything that had been given to him, didn't want to know how much people adored him, mostly because he didn't know what to do with that. He was used to doing quiet acts of service that only a few individuals actually appreciated, but this was on such a massive scale that it was overwhelming, and frightening.

Tony led the way, while Ned and Hope stayed by Peter's side, and May brought up the rear, surrounding him and offering their comfort wherever they could, though Peter brushed it off and kept walking, tucking his hands into his sweatpants pockets.

Walking to the room didn't take as long as Peter would've liked, and Tony certainly didn't waste any time in drama, instead just swinging the door right open.

Peter's eyes went wide.

That was a lot of stuff.

Not just stuffed animals, and containers, but clothes, blankets, food, decorations, crafts, drawings, and a dozen discs that had mini holograms with messages and pictures and videos popping up out of them, so that the room was not only filled with stuff, but noise, and light as well--all of which a little overwhelming to Peter and his sensitive senses, who didn't bother to step into the room.

Tony's hand landed on his shoulder. "You alright, kid?"

"That's... a lot of stuff," Peter said, feeling but not really caring that his feet started sticking to the carpet, because he didn't intend to go in. "This is all for me?"

"Yup." Tony stepped aside to let him forward, though Peter didn't move. "Wanna take a look?"

"I... yeah," he made himself say, forcing himself to unstick, and step tentatively into the room, leaving his family behind as the stuff quickly swallowed him up, his 'bodyguard' following.

His enhanced hearing helped him catch the sound of repulsors firing. Peter looked up, and watched as another ILS flew in with another armful of stuff, quickly followed by another.

It was a constant stream of ILS's, coming in with armfuls of stuff, then flying back out as another on came back in.

"All for me," Peter repeated back to himself softly, unsure if he was overwhelmingly grateful, or overwhelmingly guilty.

He looked around, and locked his gaze on one disc where two kids were chatting excitedly with each other, then looking at the camera and saying something, before stepping aside to show off the wall they had painted Spider-Man on. The time and location stamp showed that it was a video sent two days ago, from Israel.

Peter touched it, tracing the edge of the disc with his fingers, before picking it up. His ILS waved his hand, and all the other messages fell silent, so he could hear the one he was holding.

The two kids were speaking Arabic, but something was translating as they went.

"Is it working?"

"Yeah, I think it is--go, go on! It's rolling!"

"Oh! Right, um, hi, Mr. Spider-Man, sir! My name is Adi, and I'm a Palestinian!" said one.

"And I'm Abram!" said the other. "An Israeli!"

"We just wanted to thank you," Adi said, now humble and nervous, "for... you know, like, saving the world, and stuff? I... I woke up away from home, in an Israeli neighborhood, and Abram's family helped me out. We're now best friends." Adi grinned a little. "I used to think I could never accept an Israeli, but then I realized that we're all just human, and now my bestest friend is an Israeli!"

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