Hello! Note from the Author:

This is my first dabble into Avengers so have no expectation and you won't be let down. I work full time and foster dogs/puppies in my spare time, I'm writing for the fun of it and can't commit to regular updates but I'll do my best.

Story is not proof-read but thankfully I'm not writing this for money, did my best given the amount of time and energy I have free to put into it.

I'm framing this after SpiderMan Homecoming with May unaware that Peter = Spiderman.

I will be randomly pulling from the MCU but anything that deviates from that storyline should be accepted as my personal path in this story. Same obviously goes for Infinity War didn't happen. IT DIDN'T. (so I will be telling myself until I get to see the next one and my heart hurts less)

This is another one of those 'May dies and Pete lives with Tony' but it's my own spin, we'll see how it goes.

So! That's that. If you like what you see send me a review, they're appreciated and keep me motivated!

Sometimes.

Sometimes things happened. They just happened. Not everything was a great story. Take his parents for example, the only thing worth telling there was that they'd died in a plane crash and that made it interesting to others. He was no Harry Potter. He hadn't been left with uncaring relatives and living under the stairs. They didn't even have stairs- well not in the apartment at least.

In fact, up until the spider bite, Peter was pretty darn sure that he, Uncle Ben, and Aunt May were just NPCs in the game of life. After all they got up, went to school or work respectively, and came home; there was very little that disturbed their routines. Sometimes Peter thought of them like the little guests in one of those tycoon games. Just going about their day, day after day, unaware of the powers that be who might make their life better or trap them all at the end of a roller coaster and watch as the coaster tore through the crowd of trapped guests.

…not that he or Ned had ever done that.

After the spider bite, after Uncle Ben, Pete began to wonder if there was some cosmic order to things. Here he was now a super hero with the necessary tragic backstory right? Wasn't that how it always happened? Always there was something like Uncle Ben, some action on the would be hero's part that set everything in motion.

Peter had made a grave, but understandable misjudgment. He'd assumed there was some order to the randomness of the universe.

There had been no fight the night before. Nothing that led up to it. Just like every Monday night he and May had both returned to the apartment exhausted and wishing the weekend was just a little bit longer. In traditional Monday night fashion, they ordered pizza. May never felt like cooking and Pete's culinary skills were lacking. Pizza was enjoyed along with the traditional Monday night movie and eventually they'd both retire to their own rooms, May to sleep and Peter to sneak out to start his weekly patrol.

Early morning he'd be back, sleeping a few hours before Tuesday's routine began, much like Monday. Peter off to school, still exhausted but wasn't every teen exhausted in the morning? At least he wasn't up all night playing fortnite, he was making a difference in Queens. May would head off to work, just slightly more refreshed than Monday and if only because of the extra cup of coffee.

So. It was like any other Tuesday. May always treated herself on Tuesdays, like a reward for making it through Monday. Each day she'd pack a lunch but Tuesdays, they were Treat Tuesdays. After her lunch and with about twenty minutes to spare she'd head out into the midday rush. Three blocks up a little café waited where she'd get a simple but small snack, a little dessert treat just for her. It varied week to week, oh she had some fall back favorites, but she was interested in trying something new every now and then when the seasons changed. Pete didn't know about her little ritual, only that occasionally, May would come home with a dessert for him too- usually after a good report card or project.

Midday traffic in Queens was no better than traffic any other time. Gridlocked. Cars were never a concern and like the millions of other New Yorkers, May simply walked between them given they never displayed the courtesy of stopping outside of the cross walks. Cars were not a problem. The motorcycle that weaved between said cars was another matter entirely. It was enough. Enough to prove the universe was random.

And it randomly seemed to hate Peter Parker.