Work Text:
In all her life, May has never been sent to the principal’s office.
Never.
And technically speaking, she still hasn’t. Being called to your boss’s office, though… that feels vaguely reminiscent of the entire concept. The same nervous anticipation. The same quiet wondering about what exactly you did wrong. It’s why her knee bounces up and down anxiously as she waits in the Queens Medical Administration hallway for her boss to come out and retrieve her.
Glancing down at her watch, it has been seven minutes since she was paged there by Chief Francis. Seven long minutes of trying — and failing — to remember anything she might have done wrong in the last week or so to land herself here. It isn’t that being called to the chief’s office is inherently a bad thing. It could mean any number of things, good or bad. But ever since Peter became Spider-Man, May’s brain has developed the unfortunate habit of jumping straight to worst-case scenarios.
Her mind has gotten very good at imagining disasters.
It takes a couple more minutes before the door to Chief Francis’s office finally opens. One of May’s favorite coworkers, Nurse Rizzoli, steps out with a wide smile stretching across her face. May studies that smile automatically, the way years of nursing has trained her to read people. She can’t quite tell if it relieves her or unsettles her further.
What are the chances that two nurses get good news on the same day?
Chief Francis appears in the doorway a moment later, catching May’s eye and motioning for her to come in. “Sorry to keep you waiting so long, May,” she says warmly as May steps inside the office. The chief rounds the corner of her desk and settles into her chair, already reaching for a folder that sits neatly stacked beside her computer.
“It’s no issue,” May says quickly, offering a polite smile as she takes one of the smaller leather chairs across from the desk. “You’re a busy woman.”
“I am indeed,” Francis laughs.
May’s leg still bounces, though not quite as anxiously now that she can actually see the woman’s face. Chief Francis doesn’t look upset. She doesn’t look angry. In fact, she doesn’t look like someone about to deliver bad news at all. If anything, there’s a spark of excitement in her expression that May recognizes from the few times the hospital has rolled out something new.
“I called you here today to present you with an opportunity,” Francis says, leaning forward slightly. “Our neurosurgery attending is launching a new project he believes could really put us on the map. He’s asked me to assemble a team of nurses, residents, and a couple of interns to help with the initial launch.”
May nods along as Francis speaks, listening carefully.
Being part of groundbreaking research is exactly the kind of opportunity she’s been working toward since she joined the medical field.
“What’s the project?” May asks.
Chief Francis smiles and turns her monitor so May can see the presentation that has clearly already been put together. The title screen fills the display in bold lettering.
THE FUTURE OF ALZHEIMER’S CARE.
It takes a second for May to do anything other than stare at the screen.
“I may be overstepping,” Dr. Francis begins gently, folding her hands on the desk, “but I know how close this disease is to your heart.”
And she’s right.
May lost her mother to early onset Alzheimer’s ten years ago. Just a few months before she and Ben officially took Peter in, right around the same time Peter lost both of his parents. Grief had settled over their lives in layers back then. So many had piled up it was difficult to even remember what the first one looked like. Losing a parent had already been something May understood — her father died when she was eleven — but watching her mother slowly disappear piece by piece had been a different kind of heartbreak altogether.
It was part of what made her connection with Peter so immediate, so instinctive, even though they didn’t share a drop of blood between them.
“I was hoping maybe you’d like to be part of the team,” Chief Francis continues. “It would be a lengthy commitment. It would take your whole summer and fall, most likely. And I know you have your nephew to take care of, so this is probably a long shot… but I wanted to offer you a spot on the team anyway.”
May leans forward slightly, clicking through the PowerPoint slides as Francis speaks. Charts, project outlines, partnerships. The program focuses on hospitals in low-income areas across the country, offering pro bono care to families struggling with Alzheimer’s while working toward better treatments — maybe even a cure someday. The more she reads, the more her chest tightens with a familiar mixture of hope and determination.
God.
She wants to be part of this.
She wants to be part of this more than almost anything she’s been offered in years.
But Francis had raised a valid concern.
Peter.
Peter is her other half. Not in the way Ben had been, not exactly, but close enough that May can’t imagine her life without him woven through it. If not for her boy, she isn’t entirely sure she would have survived the darker years after losing her mother. Grief had nearly swallowed her whole back then, and it was Peter’s quiet resilience — a kid who had lost both parents and still somehow believed tomorrow might be better — that helped keep her head above water.
“So the position would require me to leave Queens?” she asks carefully, lifting her eyes from the screen.
Dr. Francis nods. “It would, yes. Doctor Gilbert is coordinating a tour across twenty hospitals throughout the United States that are partnering with the project.”
May considers that for a moment, turning the idea over in her head.
“What about my pay?” she asks, almost hesitantly. “I just got my raise not that long ago. Would I lose it?”
The question makes her feel guilty the moment it leaves her mouth. It sounds selfish even to her own ears, caring about money when the work itself is so important.
“Would you lose your raise?” Chief Francis repeats, blinking in mild surprise. “May, the position comes with another five dollars added to your hourly rate.”
Five dollars.
To most people, that might not sound like a life-changing difference.
To May Parker, it absolutely is.
The two-dollar raise she received after becoming charge nurse had already helped make things easier. Rent was less stressful. Groceries didn’t require quite so much mental math. But this… this kind of increase would mean Peter could want things without May immediately worrying about how to afford them.
New textbooks.
Better shoes.
Maybe even small luxuries like the science kits he loved so much.
She wouldn’t have to watch Tony Stark quietly fill in those gaps anymore.
Though now, with the man apparently accepting the title of “Dad” thanks to Peter’s enthusiasm, May supposes she doesn’t have much ground to stand on if Tony chooses to provide for him where he can.
Still.
The thought leaves her uneasy in ways she can’t quite untangle.
“When do I have to let you know by?” May asks finally.
“By Thursday if possible,” Chief Francis answers.
May nods slowly.
“Okay,” she says. “Give me until then, and I’ll give you my answer.”
The promise sits heavy behind her words.
“Sounds good, Nurse Parker. I hope you can make it work.”
May offers a small smile in return.
“Me too,” she says.
It feels strange coming to the tower without Peter in tow.
May glances down at her watch as she steps out of the elevator, the polished Stark Tower hallway stretching out ahead of her like something out of a magazine spread. 1:12 PM on a Thursday, the day after she received the offer to join the clinical trial team. The three of them had scheduled this meeting deliberately during the middle of the day, carefully choosing a time when Peter would be safely occupied at school instead of hovering nearby with those well-tuned ears of his.
He’ll be joining them for dinner tonight.
Or maybe it’s more accurate to say she’ll be joining them, considering Thursday nights technically belong to Tony and Pepper when it comes to Peter’s increasingly complicated living schedule. Chief Francis had given her the day off to think everything through, to get her ducks in a row before making any decisions. Whatever the reasoning behind it, May is grateful for the time.
Because there isn’t a single doubt in her mind that this conversation is going to change everything.
Not because she expects Tony and Pepper to say no. Because she knows they’re going to say yes.
“Hey, May,” Pepper says warmly from the couch tucked along the side wall of her office.
It still feels surreal sometimes, walking through the front doors of Stark Industries with a sleek badge clipped to her shirt. Being waved through security. Stepping into an elevator that carries her all the way up to the floor where Pepper Potts runs one of the most powerful companies on the planet. May has mostly come to terms with the strange turns her life has taken in the last almost two years, but moments like this still make her pause and shake her head a little.
“Hey, Pepper,” May says, moving over to sit beside her. She hands the redhead the coffee she picked up on the way in. “How was that meeting you were telling me about this morning?”
Pepper groans immediately.
“Oh my goodness, it was just awful. Exactly like I expected. General Yarborough is a pain in my ass.”
She takes a sip of the coffee and hums approvingly.
“Tony should be up any minute. FRIDAY said he was finishing something in the lab… which could mean five minutes or it could mean —”
The office door swings open before she can finish the sentence.
On cue, Tony strolls in.
Pepper rolls her eyes, though the fondness there is impossible to miss. “Anytime something pertains to Peter, this man is suddenly the most punctual human being on the planet. I can’t tell if it’s a superpower or blatant selective listening.”
Tony raises an eyebrow. “So now I’m being shamed for being a good dad?”
May swears the man actually glows every time he says that word. Two years ago she wanted to wring his neck. Now she’s about to ask him to step up in a way she never imagined.
“No,” Pepper replies dryly. “You’re being shamed for being a bad listener.”
Even May can see the corner of her mouth twitching upward.
“Can you two save your pre-marital spats until after we talk?” May teases, drawing both their attention.
“And now we’re both bad listeners,” Tony says with a mischievous grin, glancing sideways at Pepper.
Pepper shoots him a look before turning back to May. “Sorry. Go ahead.”
So she does.
May tells them everything.
She tells them about the Alzheimer’s clinical trial she’s been offered a position on. She tells them about her mother and how she lost her, about the slow cruelty of the disease that had stolen pieces of the woman she loved long before the final goodbye. If her voice wobbles a little while she explains it in front of the most influential power couple on the planet… well… that’s nobody’s business but her own.
And then she gets to the part that brings them into the conversation.
“The trial starts June twentieth,” May says carefully. “And we’d be traveling to those twenty hospitals over the course of six months…”
Her voice falters.
The words catch somewhere in her throat.
Asking for help has never been something May Parker is particularly good at.
“…which means that—”
“Means that you want us to take Pete in?” Tony finishes.
May’s eyes drop to her hands folded in her lap, a small smile tugging at her mouth despite the nervous knot sitting in her chest.
There isn’t even a flicker of hesitation in his voice.
If anything, he sounds excited.
Which somehow makes this feel even more real than she was prepared for.
Pepper reaches over and gently takes May’s hands in her own, squeezing until May finally looks up. It’s embarrassing that her eyes are starting to sting again, but the warmth in Pepper’s expression doesn’t leave much room for pride.
“You guys know I wouldn’t ask for help if I didn’t—”
Pepper shakes her head softly, cutting her off.
“That’s what family is for, May. You and Ben took Peter in when he needed someone, and your whole life changed because of it.” Her voice is steady and certain. “This sounds like a dream job for you. Of course we’ll take him.”
Tony’s grin splits across his face immediately.
“What she said.”
May laughs, a little wet and sniffly as she wipes quickly at her eyes.
“Obviously we’ll have to talk to Peter about this tonight first,” May says quietly.
Both Tony and Pepper nod in agreement. There’s no hesitation there either, which doesn’t surprise her. If anything, it reassures her. Peter may be the center of this conversation, but none of them would ever make a decision like this without him having a say.
“We’ll also need to — if it’s okay with you — maybe have legal guardianship papers drawn up for Tony to sign,” Pepper adds thoughtfully. “It would save us trouble further down the line if something serious came up and we couldn’t reach you.”
May nods slowly. “He’s already on Peter’s school paperwork, but making it legally binding would probably be smart. I’d feel better knowing you two could make decisions if you couldn’t reach me.”
Both of them glance toward Tony.
His smile is still there, but he’s gone quiet, lost somewhere deep in thought. May has become familiar with that expression over the last couple of years. It usually means Tony Stark’s brain is running ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room.
“What?” she asks, narrowing her eyes slightly.
Tony shifts in his seat. “I just — legal guardianship…”
“We don’t have to —” May begins automatically.
He shakes his head immediately.
“What if I wanted to — adopt him?” Tony blurts.
The room stills for a second.
“Obviously when you get back nothing would have to change,” he continues quickly. “We’d go back to whatever schedule you wanted. It’s just… he’s my kid, you know? He calls me Dad.”
Tony exhales through his nose, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
“Legal guardianship is fine and dandy — great even. If that’s what you’re comfortable with, May, then that’s what we do. No pressure.” He pauses, then adds more quietly, “But if I can actually be his dad…”
His voice softens. “It’s what I want to be.”
The mere idea of it sends tears immediately to May’s eyes.
The first time Peter officially called Tony “Dad,” after months of dancing nervously around the word, she’d cried then too. Not because she felt replaced. Never that. It had been relief more than anything else. Relief that she wasn’t carrying the weight of raising Peter alone anymore. Relief that someone else loved him fiercely enough to step into that role without being asked.
Of having a partner in this.
More than one partner, really.
Because even if Peter didn’t call Pepper “Mom,” May suspects it’s only a matter of time.
She never expected to be a parent.
When Peter came into her and Ben’s life, though, the decision had been immediate. Obvious. You take care of the people you love. Her entire life changed overnight, and she has never regretted a single second of it. But the idea that she might be able to have something outside of being Peter’s primary caretaker again… that realization sits in her chest with a strange mixture of guilt and excitement.
Pepper looks to May, clearly deferring to her.
Which makes sense.
May wipes quickly at her eyes before smiling at Tony, reaching across the small space between them to take his hand in hers. Pepper’s hand is still wrapped around her other one, so for a moment May finds herself holding both of theirs.
“If that’s what you really want,” she says softly, “and if it’s what Peter wants too… then I would be honored to have you as an official legal part of my family.”
Tony’s smile turns almost boyish as he glances at Pepper.
Pepper meets his look and nods.
“I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer,” she says after a moment, slipping easily back into her CEO voice, “because I think this could be really good for all of us. But we should think about the public implications.”
May exhales quietly.
She had thought about that too.
“We won’t be able to keep the press from catching wind of this eventually,” Pepper continues. “Which means we should probably discuss addressing it on our own terms before someone else does.”
Being publicly tied to the Stark family would change Peter’s life completely.
Then again, so did becoming Spider-Man. So did splitting his time between Queens and the tower. At some point May realized that Peter’s life was never going to be simple again, no matter how much she might wish otherwise.
But if everyone was on board with this…
She trusts that they’ll find a way to make it work.
“Why don’t we go talk with the lawyers and PR,” Pepper suggests, rising from the couch. “See what they recommend before Peter gets home. Then we can bring everything to him tonight.”
May nods.
That sounds like a plan.
The conversations with legal and PR are informative, and May leaves both meetings feeling far more confident about the choices sitting in front of her. The nerves are still there, of course, but something else has started to creep in alongside them.
Excitement.
The idea of taking this job, of doing work that could actually help families facing Alzheimer’s the way her own once did, fills her chest with a cautious kind of hope. Of course, all of that rests on one very important condition.
Peter has to be okay with it.
There isn’t a world in her mind where he wouldn’t support her. He has always been that kind of kid, the kind who celebrates other people’s dreams before even thinking about his own. But stranger things have happened. Peter has already lost so many people in his life that the idea of her leaving, even temporarily, might look like abandonment from his side of things.
And that thought twists uncomfortably in her chest.
When Peter gets home from school that afternoon, it doesn’t take him more than three seconds to realize something is off. May briefly considers blaming his spider sense for it, but she has a feeling that has absolutely nothing to do with it. Anyone would notice something strange about walking into the tower and finding the three most important adults in their life sitting around the dining table waiting for them.
Especially when Pepper has clearly prepared an entire snack plate.
“Uhh… hey?” Peter says cautiously, slowing his steps as his eyes move between them.
He takes in the apple slices, the crackers, the little bowl of peanut butter Pepper set out like she’s hosting a playdate instead of a serious conversation. His gaze lands on May last, suspicion already creeping into his expression.
“Hey kiddo,” Tony says easily, pulling out the chair beside him. “Come eat.”
Peter approaches the table like he’s walking into a trap.
He slides into the chair anyway, grabbing a couple apple slices almost automatically while his eyes keep darting between May, Pepper, and Tony.
“Not that I’m not happy to see you all,” he says slowly, chewing, “but… what’s going on?”
“How was school, honey?” May asks.
The question feels flimsy even as it leaves her mouth, like trying to cover a broken pipe with a band-aid.
“Fine,” Peter answers immediately. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
No such luck.
May takes a slow breath, studying his face the way she always does when she’s trying to gauge how much information he can handle at once.
“I have something I wanted — well, something we wanted — to talk to you about.”
His shoulders tense instantly.
“Is this about last week’s stabbing?” Peter blurts. “Because it was really nothing. I healed up fine and I remembered to call Dad, so I really don’t want you guys taking the —”
Tony gently rests a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s not about Spider-Man, Pete,” he says calmly. “Just listen to your aunt, okay?”
Peter glances sideways at him, still suspicious, but he nods. His attention returns to May, waiting.
“I got a job offer to work on a clinical trial for Alzheimer’s,” she begins.
Peter blinks.
Then his entire face softens, a warm smile spreading across it.
“Oh, May… that’s — that’s amazing,” he says quietly. “I know your mom would be proud.”
The words land exactly the way May expected them to.
Support first. Questions second.
The hesitation is still there in his eyes, the clear understanding that this probably isn’t the whole story.
“The thing is… it would require me to travel,” she says carefully. “For the next six months. I’d have to leave Queens.”
Peter straightens suddenly, panic beginning to creep into his voice.
“So — so we’d have to leave Queens?” he says quickly. “Because, Aunt May, my friends are here and — and Spider-Man is here and you can’t really be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man if you don’t live in the neighborhood —”
The words start tumbling over each other faster and faster as the spiral begins.
May opens her mouth to respond, but the right words stubbornly refuse to come out.
Tony recovers for both of them.
“Slow your roll, Underroos,” he says gently. “We want you to stay here. With us.”
Peter freezes.
Tony squeezes his shoulder lightly, glancing briefly toward Pepper before looking back at him.
“It’s not Queens,” he continues, “but you could still do patrols. You could still be Spider-Man. You’d still go to Midtown and see your friends.”
The panic drains from Peter’s expression almost immediately.
He takes a couple slow breaths, steadying himself, before looking back toward May.
“So you would be leaving Queens…?” Peter asks quietly.
May bites down gently on her lip before answering. “I don’t have to take the job, Peter. If you don’t want me to leave, I won’t. You’re the most important thing in my life.”
And she means that with her whole heart.
Is she excited about the opportunity? Absolutely. The idea of helping families facing Alzheimer’s the way hers once did feels like something she was always meant to be part of. But would she take that opportunity at the expense of her nephew’s emotional wellbeing?
Never.
“No!” Peter blurts immediately.
Then quieter, like he’s correcting himself, “No, no. I want you to take it. I know how important this is to you.”
The answer makes her smile, even as her eyes sting.
“I’m just — gonna miss you tons,” he adds softly. “You’ll be able to video chat, right?”
“Of course I’ll be able to video chat,” May says quickly, wiping at the tears that spilled over. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
“We can even take some summer trips to wherever she is and visit when she has free time,” Pepper offers gently.
That seems to do the trick.
“Really?” Peter perks up immediately.
“Of course, kiddo,” Tony says with an easy smile.
Peter looks back at May again, the sadness returning to his expression now that the initial logistics have settled.
“I’m gonna miss you so much, Aunt May.”
May reaches across the table and squeezes her boy’s hand.
“I’m gonna miss you even more, baby,” she says, her voice catching slightly.
Peter hesitates for a second, chewing lightly on the inside of his cheek before speaking again.
“Will you be mad if I say I’m excited to stay here with Dad?”
May catches Tony’s smile at the word.
It’s impossible to miss the way it lights up his entire face.
“I would never be upset about that, Peter,” she says firmly. “Never ever.”
She takes a slow breath, trying to gather herself before the tears come back again.
“In fact… I think there’s something Pepper and Tony might want to talk to you about.”
Peter’s brows knit together as his attention shifts between the two adults sitting across from him.
“Well,” Tony begins carefully, leaning forward slightly, “for legal and safety reasons, you moving in here full-time would mean filing some legal paperwork.”
Peter nods slowly, following along.
“Which would make me officially responsible for you,” Tony continues, “alongside May.”
“Really?” Peter says, sitting up a little straighter.
May doesn’t miss the small spark of excitement in his eyes.
“Yeah,” Tony says. “But I was thinking maybe we could do something a little more permanent than that.”
Peter blinks.
“More per—”
The realization hits him halfway through the sentence.
“You… you want to adopt me?”
The disbelief in his voice breaks something soft inside May’s chest. She knows exactly what’s running through Peter’s mind right now — the quiet fear that this might somehow disappear if he hopes too hard.
“If you wanted me to,” Tony says gently, “I would do it in a heartbeat.”
Peter chews on the inside of his cheek again, his gaze shifting instinctively toward Pepper.
“Miss Pepper… are you — are you okay with this? Aunt May?”
Pepper smiles warmly.
“I’m all in, Peter,” she says.
Then his eyes turn to May. She has to school her expression quickly to keep from dissolving into tears all over again.
“Of course I’m okay with this,” she says softly. “And your mom and dad — Mary and Richard — I promise you they would want this for you too.”
Peter looks back at Tony.
Hope flickers in his brown eyes, fragile and bright all at once.
Across the table, May wipes away the happy tears slipping down her cheeks.
“I would…” Peter says, voice quiet but steady.
“I would really, really like that.”