Apartment

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May Parker was in for a treat when her nephew came tumbling into the apartment, clad in his Spider-Man suit, with a dripping, half-conscious girl in his arms.

"Hey, Aunt May!" Peter called as he dove into the bathroom.

May was out of her seat and hot on his trail two seconds later, only to find him gently depositing you into the bathtub (mind you, you were still fully clothed) and turning on the faucet.

"Karen said you're suffering from the first stages of hypothermia, but don't worry, she said it isn't too serious and that it's okay to give you a hot bath," Peter explained to you in a hushed tone.

"Peter." Her nephew's back went rigid at the mention of his name. "Mind telling me who that is?"

Peter quickly stood up and positioned himself in front of you, blocking most of you from his aunt's sight.

May was suddenly struck by a strange haze over her perception, like she'd walked into a cloud of mental blurriness. Every time she tried to look in the direction of the bathtub, her gaze would be led away. She forced herself to look at you, squinting as you started to... turn invisible?

"Is she-"

"May, could we talk about this outside?" Before she knew it, Peter had herded her out of the room and shut the door gently behind him. Her mind seemed to clear once she was out in the living room, and she breathed deeply, blinking and shaking her head.

She propped up her hands on her hips once she fully got her wits about her. "This better be good."

"She's, uh, one of Mr. Stark's interns." Peter kept eye contact with her for most of his statement, so May concluded that this was at least mostly true.

...Which didn't bode well for her opinion regarding the billionaire playboy. "Oh, great, because the man didn't have enough teenagers risking their lives for him."

Peter's shoulders slumped downward. "May, that's not fair-"

She held up a hand to stop him. "Why does she have hypothermia?"

"We were on a ship," Peter stated, as if that were the perfect answer to all of life's- or at least May's- questions. "She fell."

May pinched the bridge of her nose. For all of Peter's intelligence, he didn't always employ it at the most convenient times.

"Doing what, exactly?" she asked.

"Fighting off some human traffickers," Peter mumbled.

It had taken a while, but May had finally stopped asking Peter why he did the things he did, at least regarding his Spider-Man self. She knew why he fought crime. She knew why he willingly put himself in danger to help others. So, she skipped all of her knee-jerk sentiments of What in the hell were you doing fighting some human traffickers? and instead moved on to a question to which she did not know the answer.

"Where do her parents think she is?"

Peter's mouth opened, but no words came out. He could have lied. For your sake, he could have told his aunt that your parents thought you were at the library, or a friend's house. But Peter had never been good at lying, and the moment's hesitation that he took to consider his options was what did him in.

"It's... complicated."

"Un-complicate it," May demanded.

"I can't," he insisted. "Really, May, it's not my business to tell you."

May raised an eyebrow. Usually, Peter wasn't very good at keeping secrets.

...Alright, so he'd had her in the dark on the Spider-Man thing for quite a while, but he was slightly better at keeping secrets that were vitally important to him. Which meant that you, and therefore your situation with your parents, had to be important. And that was enough to raise an alarm or two.

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