Jay watched through the Baxter Building windows as Spider-Man swung across the Manhattan skyline, chasing a man with mechanical wings.

  The Vulture. Or at least, a discount version. Some nobody trying to make a name for himself by stealing Chitauri tech from Damage Control trucks.

  But what caught Jay's attention wasn't the thief.

  It was the spider.

  The homemade suit. The determined swing. The way the kid positioned himself to intercept rather than attack.

  That heart. That instinct to save rather than punish.

  Jay knew exactly who was under that mask.

  "Excuse me for a second," Jay said, standing abruptly.

  Steve looked up from the tactical maps they'd been reviewing. "Jay, what..."

  A light dagger materialized in Jay's hand. White energy compressed into a blade. He didn't throw it. Just let it float there for a moment, orienting on its target.

  Then he teleported it.

  Three miles away, the dagger appeared directly above the Vulture. Sliced through the Chitauri tech powering his wings. Blue circuit patterns flickered and died.

  The thief started falling.

  "What are you doing?" Steve demanded.

  "Wait for me." Jay's body was already glowing blue. "I'll be right back."

  He vanished.

  Jay materialized on a rooftop just as Spider-Man fired webbing. The kid caught the Vulture mid-fall, created a net that jerked the man to a stop ten feet above the pavement.

  Gentle, controlled and perfect.

  Jay smiled. Only one spider had that kind of heart.

  Peter Parker.

  The kid landed on the rooftop, sticking to the building's edge. His whole body tensed. That spider-sense must have been screaming. He spun around, searching for the threat.

  "Yo, Peter." Jay kept his tone easy. "Dig the new suit. But it could be better, don't you think?"

  Peter's entire body went rigid. "How do you... who..."

  Jay pulled down his collar slowly. Let Peter see his face fully.

  Recognition hit Peter like a truck. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

  "Wait. Wait wait wait." Peter's voice cracked. "You're... you're Jay. The Jay. Power Broker Jay. The guy who... who brought everyone back and... and..." His words tumbled over each other. "How do you know my name? How do you... I mean everyone knows YOU but you know ME and that's... that's not..."

  "Breathe, kid."

  Peter sucked in air. "Right. Breathing. I can do that. I've been breathing my whole life, actually, so I'm pretty good at..." He stopped himself. "Oh God, I'm rambling. I'm rambling to the Power Broker. Uncle Ben's gonna kill me. If I don't die of embarrassment first."

  Jay laughed.

  "You... you're really here. On this roof. Talking to me." Peter looked around like he expected cameras. "Shouldn't you be... I don't know, meeting with presidents? Or fighting aliens? Or... literally anything except talking to some kid?"

  "Some kid?" Jay raised an eyebrow. "I saw what you did during the invasion. Moving in nothing but a handmade suit and beanie."

  Peter's hand went to his chest. "You... you saw that?"

  "Saw it? Kid, I watched you save civilians while buried under debris. Saw you refuse to give up even when you should have." Jay took a step closer. "You weren't just fighting Chitauri. You were protecting people. Every move you made was about getting someone to safety."

  Peter's breathing got faster. His hands started trembling.

  "And when I gave you that suit?" Jay's voice softened. "You were a natural. Moved like you'd been wearing it your whole life. Those webs? Poetry in motion. Kid, you saved 445 people. That's direct rescues. Not counting indirect saves and fighting off the aliens."

  " Four hundred and..." Peter's voice came out strangled. "That many?"

  "That many." Jay nodded. "And you are only fifteen. Untrained. Running on instinct and heart."

  Peter's legs gave out slightly. He caught himself, but barely. "I just... I saw people who needed help. I couldn't just..."

  "I know." Jay's expression gentled. "That's what makes you special."

  A long silence stretched between them. Peter seemed to be processing. His brain working overtime behind those eyes.

  "After I took away the power-ups, I thought it'd be months before I saw you in action again." Jay gestured at Peter's suit. "But here you are. Proper suit. Web shooters that actually work. All in just a week."

  "My friends helped." The words came out automatically. Then Peter seemed to realize what he'd said. "Wait, you took away... you GAVE me those power-ups? That suit with the AI and the... the everything?"

  "Yeah."

  Peter stood frozen.

  Jay knew his name. Knew who he was. Had seen everything during the invasion. Had given him that futuristic suit. Had probably been watching him for who knows how long. And now, on the very day Peter decided to test his new suit, Jay was here.

  Just... here.

  Like this was normal.

  The Power Broker. The living god. The man who should be busy with presidents and Avengers and X-Men.

  Standing on a rooftop in Queens. Talking to a fifteen-year-old in a homemade costume.

  The disconnect was too much. Peter felt like his brain was short-circuiting.

  Jay seemed to notice. His expression shifted.

  He walked to the edge of the roof and sat down. Legs dangling over the side. The setting sun painted everything in shades of orange and gold, and below them, Manhattan was starting to show signs of the invasion's aftermath. Scaffolding on damaged buildings. Construction crews working late.

  The city was healing, but the scars were still fresh.

  Jay patted the space next to him. "Come on, kid. Sit. Let's just... talk."

  Peter's spider-sense wasn't screaming anymore.

  He moved slowly. Sat down next to Jay, leaving a careful gap between them. His hands wouldn't stop shaking, so he gripped his knees. Hard.

  Sitting this close, Peter could see details he'd missed before. The way Jay's eyes weren't quite human when the light hit them right. But also... the tiredness. The weight in his shoulders.

  Peter pulled off his mask. His hair stuck up in weird directions, sweaty and messy.

  No point in wearing it. The guy clearly already knew everything.

  "Mr. Jay, I thought you'd be busy with other heroes and the government, having important meetings. What are you doing here?"

  Jay's laugh was genuine and warm. Nothing like what Peter expected from someone so powerful. "Kid, keep this between us. I'm not really a social person. Meetings? Government bureaucracy? That stuff makes me want to tear my hair out. If I could, I'd spend the rest of my life traveling, eating, and reading. That's it. Simple stuff."

  Peter blinked. Then blinked again. "You... you're telling me the guy who brought back twelve hundred people and defeated a god wants to... read books?"

  "Is that so weird?"

  "It's the weirdest thing I've heard all week. And I fought aliens last week, so that's saying something."

  Jay's grin widened. But then something shifted. His expression became more serious. "So, kid. How's the family? This whole hero thing still a secret?"

  Peter's stomach dropped. His hands clenched on his thighs. Hard enough that his knuckles went white.

  "They're fine..." His voice cracked. He tried to steady it. Failed. "No. They're not fine. They're alive, which is... which is good. Better than good. But they got hurt and it's..."

  He took a breath.

  "My aunt and uncle were injured in the invasion. They were all the way in New Jersey. Safe and miles away from any danger."

  The words started coming faster. Like a dam breaking.

  "But I was busy being a hero to strangers. Playing superhero while my family panicked because I wasn't answering my phone. They came running into the middle of an alien attack to look for me. Can you believe that? They drove straight into Manhattan while everyone else was running out."

  Peter's voice rose. "Got hurt as soon as they entered. Car flipped. Uncle Ben threw himself over Aunt May. He could have died. She could have died. Both of them could have died and it would have been my fault because I was too busy swinging around to pick up my phone."

  He gasped for air. His chest felt tight.

  "Now my aunt is waiting on me to bring home a cake for Uncle Ben's birthday. Just a simple cake. That's all she asked for. And here I am." He gestured around. "Chasing a winged thief. Talking to the Power Broker of all people."

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  He laughed, but it sounded broken.

  "I'm the worst nephew ever."

  Jay didn't say anything at first. Just scooted closer. His hand settled on Peter's shoulder.

  They sat in silence. The sun continued its descent. Manhattan's lights started flickering on. The city's heartbeat pulsed around them.

  Car horns. Distant sirens. The hum of millions of lives continuing despite everything.

  Peter's breathing slowly steadied. The pressure of Jay's hand helped. Reminded him he wasn't falling apart alone.

  "So who made you that suit?" Jay asked finally.

  Peter latched onto the change of subject like a drowning man grabbing a life preserver. "My friends helped me. Harry designed it. Spent three days requisitioning materials from Oscorp without his dad noticing. Claimed everything was for school projects."

  He smiled slightly at the memory.

  "Gwen and I worked on the web shooters and formula. Took us days even after I knew the formula from that AI suit you gave me. We must have made fifty bad batches. One dissolved too fast. Another was basically superglue. Gwen got some stuck in her hair and nearly killed me."

  His voice softened when he mentioned Gwen. His whole expression changed. Brightened.

  Jay caught it immediately. He grinned. "Ah, youth. First love is always special."

  Peter's face went nuclear. "What? Who... who talked about love? I don't love Gwen! We're just... she's just... we're friends. Best friends and it's not... I'm not..."

  "Who even mentioned you and Gwen?"

  Peter's mouth snapped shut. Caught. His face somehow got even redder.

  "Is it that obvious?"

  "Kid, you lit up like a Christmas tree the second you said her name."

  Peter groaned and covered his face with his hands. "This is the worst. I'm having relationship advice forced on me by a god."

  "Not a god. Just a guy who's been around." Jay's expression gentled. "This feeling you're having. This uncertainty about everything. About Gwen. About being a hero. That's good, kid. That means your thoughts and convictions are real."

  A person without doubt isn't sane.

  "But what about the powers I have?" Peter's voice rose again. The panic creeping back in. "I can't just ignore people when someone needs me. Today proved it. I was literally just testing the web shooters. Just swinging to get a cake. But the second I saw that guy, my body just... moved. I didn't think about Uncle Ben's birthday or Aunt May waiting or anything. I just jumped."

  Jay frowned. "Then what? You're planning to save everyone in need? Pick strangers over family every time?"

  "No! But if something bad happens and I could do something to stop it and I don't..." Peter's voice cracked. "Won't that make it my fault?"

  "Then it'd be impossible, kid."

  Sharp enough to cut through Peter's spiral.

  "Everyone needs help all the time. You save one person, three more need saving. You stop one mugging, five more happen across the city. You can't be everywhere. You can't save everyone."

  He leaned forward. Made sure Peter was looking at him.

  "You'll be nothing more than a tired man with nothing. No family. No friends. No connections. You'll burn yourself out trying to be everywhere and end up nowhere. Is that what you want?"

  "No, but..."

  "Always remember: family comes first."

  "But you did!" Peter shot back. His voice almost accusatory. "You brought everyone back to life. You saved them all. Twelve hundred people. You didn't pick and choose. You just... saved everyone."

  Jay was quiet for a long moment.

  "That's because I had the power to do it, kid. The specific power for that specific moment. Not everyone can do that. Not even me, all the time." He paused. "And if my options were limited, I'd focus on the people I love. Focus on what I could do best with what I have."

  He let the words sink in.

  "Power isn't about doing everything. It's about choosing what matters and protecting that with everything you've got."

  Peter went quiet. His brain working through the logic. Trying to find holes in it but coming up empty.

  Jay reached into his shirt. His hand closed around something. When he pulled it out, Peter saw a necklace. Simple chain with trinkets hanging from it. A few metal designs and even a bullet. Even a quarter, worn smooth with age and handling.

  Jay held it for a long moment. His thumb rubbed the worn metal. The way someone touches something precious. Something irreplaceable.

  Then, with what looked like genuine reluctance, he took it off.

  "Here." Jay held it out. The chain with just the quarter dangled between them. Catching the last rays of sunset. "This is very special to me. Keep it on you. Always. It'll solve your Parker luck."

  Peter took the necklace carefully. Like it might break. It was warm from Jay's body heat. He turned it over in his hands, examining it.

  "Parker luck? My luck's not so bad that you gotta name it."

  Jay smiled. But there was something sad in it.

  "Kid, you have no idea. Trust me. Keep it on you. Always."

  Peter slipped the chain over his head. The quarter settled against his chest. Right over his heart.

  It felt... right.

  "As for your cake..." Jay snapped his fingers.

  Blue energy exploded around them.

  Peter's stomach lurched violently. The world twisted, folded in on itself, compressed into something impossible. Colors bled together. Up became down became sideways. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. His spider-sense screamed but there was nothing to dodge, no danger to avoid, just reality itself breaking apart and reforming.

  Then reality snapped back into place like a rubber band.

  Peter doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping. His stomach threatened to revolt. The world spun.

  "Oh God. Oh God, what was that? That was horrible. That was the worst thing I've ever felt and I've been buried under a building."

  Jay steadied him with a hand on his back. "Sorry. Should have warned you. First teleport is always rough."

  "First?" Peter looked up, eyes watering. "You mean it gets BETTER?"

  "Eventually."

  "I hate you so much right now."

  "You'll forgive me in a second."

  They were standing in an alley. Behind a bakery. Peter could smell fresh bread through the wall. But also... something else. The air felt different. Sounded different. The distant traffic had a different rhythm.

  An old man emerged from the back door. Flour on his apron. He saw Jay and smiled immediately.

  "Ah, Mr. Jay! You came! Your usual order?"

  "Not this time, Maurice." Jay gestured to Peter. "My young friend here needs a birthday cake. Something special."

  Maurice studied Peter. "Chocolate? Vanilla? How many people?"

  "Um." Peter's brain was still catching up. Still processing the teleportation and the French accent and... "Chocolate? For three people?"

  "I have just the thing." Maurice disappeared back inside.

  Peter looked at Jay. "You come here often?"

  "My girlfriend has cravings." Jay shrugged. "This place is the best in the world. Worth the trip."

  "The trip from where..." Peter turned. Looked at the street corner visible through the alley opening.

  His brain short-circuited.

  "Is that the Eiffel Tower?"

  "Don't worry about it."

  "Don't worry about..." Peter's voice rose. "You just teleported me to PARIS. We're in FRANCE. I'm in EUROPE. Oh God, I don't have my passport. What if I get arrested? Aunt May's gonna kill me."

  Jay laughed. "Calm down. We'll be back in thirty seconds."

  "That's not the point!"

  Maurice returned with a box. Beautiful chocolate cake visible through the window. Three layers. Glossy frosting. Little decorative swirls that looked almost too perfect to eat.

  "For you, no charge. Any friend of Mr. Jay's is a friend of mine."

  "I can't..." Peter started.

  "Take it," Jay said.

  Peter took the box. It was cool. Fresh from the fridge. The smell was incredible.

  "Thank you. This is... thank you."

  Maurice beamed. Said something in rapid French. Jay responded in the same language. They both laughed.

  Peter just stood there, holding a birthday cake in a Paris alley, wondering if his life had always been this insane or if it was a recent development.

  Another snap.

  More blue energy.

  The world twisted again. Peter's stomach lurched but he kept his mouth shut. Clutched the cake box like his life depended on it.

  Please don't throw up on the cake. Please don't throw up on the cake.

  They materialized back on the original rooftop. The sun was now gone. Manhattan's lights were on. The city glittered below them.

  Peter's legs gave out. He sat down hard, still clutching the cake box.

  "I'm never getting used to that."

  Jay sat beside him. Let Peter recover. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. The city breathing around them.

  Finally, Peter spoke. "Thanks for... for everything. The talk. The cake. The quarter. All of it."

  "No problem, kid." Jay pulled something from his pocket. A business card. He handed it over.

  Peter looked at it. His eyes went wide.

  "Reed Richards. Fantastic Four."

  Contact information.

  "That's... that's Mr. Fantastic's card. You're giving me Reed Richards' card. The Reed Richards." Peter looked up. His hands were shaking again, but this time from excitement rather than fear. "Why?"

  "Call him," Jay said. "Share your web fluid formula. Get yourself a patent. Make some money. At least solve the monetary problems. You're fifteen. You shouldn't have to worry about medical bills. Or college tuition. Or any of that."

  Peter's eyes were impossibly wide now. "Mr. Fantastic would actually want to... I mean, I'm just a kid. My formula's probably not even that good. He's a genius. Like, a real genius. I'm just..."

  "He'll be excited. Trust me. Guy's a genius, but he loves meeting other geniuses more. And Peter?" Jay paused. "You ARE a genius. Stop selling yourself short."

  Peter looked down at the card.

  "I don't... I don't know what to say."

  "Don't say anything yet. Just think about it." Jay's expression grew more serious. "And Peter? Remember. You are a kid. Focus on being a kid first. Enjoy your youth. Make friends. Go on dates. Be awkward and stupid and make mistakes."

  He leaned back, looking up at the stars.

  "Don't just jump blindly into responsibility. Take a breather. The hero stuff will always be there. Your childhood won't."

  Jay's expression grew more serious. "With great power also comes great opportunity. And the only way to live up to that responsibility is to take every opportunity to protect the people you love."

  He reached out. Ruffled Peter's hair like an older brother might.

  "Call me if you need anything, kid. I mean it."

  "How do I..." Peter started.

  "You've got my number." Jay gestured at the card. "It's on the back."

  Peter flipped the card over. Sure enough, a phone number. Written in neat handwriting.

  A direct line to the Power Broker.

  Just... sitting in his hand like it was normal.

  "Now go." Jay smiled. "Your family's waiting. And Peter? Happy birthday to your uncle."

  Blue energy gathered around Jay. He vanished before Peter could respond.

  Peter sat alone on the rooftop. The cake box warm in his hands. The quarter heavy against his chest. Reed Richards' card in his pocket.

  But he was smiling.

  He swung home. The web fluid held perfectly. His movements were getting smoother. More confident. He could feel the difference even from this morning. By the time he reached his fire escape, he felt almost natural.

  Peter landed softly on the metal grating. Opened his window as quietly as possible. Slipped inside with the cake box balanced carefully in one hand.

  He turned the light on only to find Uncle Ben sitting on his bed.

  Peter's heart stopped.

  Ben's eyes locked on him. Took in the suit. The web-shooters on his wrists. The mask dangling from his hand. The expensive-looking cake box.

  The silence stretched.

  Heavy.

  "Uncle Ben?" Peter's voice came out small. Strangled. "This is not what it looks like."

  Ben raised an eyebrow.

  "I'm... I'm cosplaying. Yeah. Cosplaying. I was at... at a comic shop and they had this event and I borrowed the suit and..."

  The lies tumbled out, desperate.

  Ben didn't move. Didn't speak. Just watched him.

  "Peter." Ben's voice was quiet and calm.

  "Yeah?"

  "I'm your uncle. I've lived in this house for decades. I can hear when someone's walking on the roof. Not to mention that viral video of you in similar theme suit lifting a car during the invasion. Did you really think I wouldn't watch every video?"

  Peter's mouth went dry. The cake box slipped from his hands. He barely caught it. Set it on the side table with shaking fingers.

  "What kind of guardian would I be," Ben continued, "if I couldn't recognize my nephew's voice?"

  Deafening silence stretched.

  Peter's legs felt weak. His chest hurt. All the guilt from the past week crashed over him at once.

  "I'm sorry, Uncle Ben." The words rushed out. "I was busy doing this. Playing hero. Instead of answering your calls. Instead of checking up on you. Instead of being there when you needed me. I'm such an idiot. Please. Please forgive me."

  Ben stood slowly. The neck brace made his movements stiff.

  Peter flinched. Prepared for anger. For disappointment. For everything he deserved.

  But Ben wrapped him in a hug.

  Careful of the neck brace. But firm.

  "Forgiveness?" Ben's voice was thick. "There's nothing to forgive, Peter."

  "But I wasn't there when you needed me..."

  "We all mess up sometimes," Ben said softly. "It's not only inevitable. I think maybe it's even necessary. You know what would disappoint me? If you didn't reach for the kind of life I wanted for you. If you settled for less because you were afraid. If you walked away from what you believe just to play it safe. If you stopped helping people because it was hard."

  He pulled back. Looked Peter in the eyes and saw him.

  "Have you done that?"

  Peter shook his head. "No. No, I haven't. I... I can't. Even when I try, I can't just walk away."

  "Then I taught you right. Your life has meaning. You have meaning." Ben smiled. "Remember, Peter. With great power comes great responsibility."

  The same words Jay had said. But different.

  Because Ben meant them as a blessing. As trust and as love.

  Peter hugged his uncle again. Tighter this time. Fighting back tears that were threatening to spill over.

  Two different philosophies. Two different paths. Ben's absolute faith that Peter would do the right thing. Jay's warning that trying to save everyone would destroy him.

  Peter didn't know which path was right. Didn't know how to balance Ben's wisdom with Jay's warning.

  But standing there, his uncle's arms around him, the cake waiting on the table, the quarter warm against his chest, Peter decided something.

  He'd figure it out. One day at a time. One choice at a time.

  "Come on," Ben said, releasing him. His smile was proud. "Let's get your aunt. Time for cake."

  Peter nodded. Wiped his eyes quickly. Grabbed the cake box. Followed Ben out into the hallway.

  From the living room, he could hear Aunt May moving around. Humming softly. The sound of home.

  Family first. Always.

  The hero stuff, the powers, the responsibility. It would all be there tomorrow. Tonight was for cake and celebration and the people who loved him even when he didn't answer his phone.

  Tonight was for Uncle Ben's birthday.