It wasn't a loaded question. Peter knew MJ, and he knew that she was aware of how much his family meant to him. They were his everything. There was still a split second after the inquiry had fallen from her lips where his heart sank. How could he have been so stupid? All those years he'd spent swinging through the streets of the city, working a thankless job that would never be completed. Jameson, a man who would grow to be almost a father figure in his life, smearing his name through the rags at the drop of a hat. Spider-Man, the masked menace. All of those years fighting the bad guys, when he should have been here. With them. Peter had his reasons. The gift, which he'd often regarded as more of a curse, that he'd been given - it didn't come without a price. And the last time he'd neglected to act when he'd been given the chance... It had taken years before he could look his aunt in the eye again without feeling that familiar pang of guilt. Maybe that was what was bothering him - try as he must, he couldn't remember how he'd separated himself from his Spider-Man persona. When was the first time he had seen the red and blue lights of a police car and not sprang into action? When had he finally been able to take the suit off for good? A hand haphazardly ran through his hair. "No, MJ. This... this is everything. I'm just sorry it took me so long to realize that."

There wasn't much time for silent reflection. Aunt May and her namesake were excitedly chatting back and forth in the foyer, their voices carrying into the dining room. Peter took that as his cue to get the food to the table, and as the two of them entered the dining room he was balancing a tray of pasta and a basket of freshly baked rolls. His superhuman agility and reflexes didn't get much use anymore, with the exception of springing into action to save his daughter from a scraped knee here or there. With MJ's impressive spread out on display and ready for the taking, he pulled the chair out for his wife and his aunt and took his seat at the center of the table. "Another family dinner and I'm still outnumbered three to one," he joked, reaching forward to pluck a roll from the basket and set it on his plate. A thumb jerked over his shoulder in the direction of the lazy golden retriever who had parked herself in the corner of the room, eyeing the table for any scraps that may happen to fall. "Even the dog's a girl."

Aunt May reached over to place a hand on his shoulder, pausing for a moment to let him know that she had read the headlines about the Oscorp deal. Even to this day, his Uncle Ben would be proud of the man he had become. Yet, the weight of her palm on his shoulder didn't have the same calming properties as it had in the past. In fact, he felt the same way he had when he'd looked at the picture of his daughter in the entry way. The fine hairs at the back of his neck pricked forward, his senses urged him that something was off, and he visibly winced at her touch. "Jeez, I'm sorry Aunt May," he offered, almost immediately, "Anyone else think it's cold in here?" Peter instantly recoiled, rubbing at the spot on the back of his neck while his daughter looked at him with concerned eyes. A forced smile was put forth as he reached forward to fork a piece of chicken onto his plate. "Everything looks amazing, MJ - thank you for getting all of this ready."

The food was on the table. She'd greeted Aunt May with a big hug. They were all gathering around the table. Little Mayday was in her seat, wiggling with excitement for the food. MJ was dishing up her daughter's plate with pasta, salad (that the little one most likely wouldn't eat), and a bread roll. And it was only after she'd delivered said plate to the two-year-old that she was able to turn her attention to the two adults. Mary Jane was nothing if not charming and social, so it was easy for her to jump right into conversation with two of her favorite people. But even more than talking, what she loved most of all was watching the interaction between Peter and May. She could sit there with her chin in her palm, smiling at the way the two of them loved each other so well. Maybe she and May hadn't always gotten along (they'd had their disagreements when MJ had to be fairly blunt and straight forward about a thing or two), but she looked up to the older woman almost like she were a second mother to her. It was just nice to have an older female presence in her life.

Any further pleasant thoughts she may have had, however, were cut short when she caught the expression Peter had on his face when his Aunt touched him. One brow arched upward, her curiosity piquing. She knew that man like the back of her hand, so she knew it wasn't just because he was 'cold'. But Peter had a way of brushing past things, so she wasn't going to openly ask him what was wrong. Not now. She made a mental note to ask him about it later in the privacy of their own bedroom. Maybe then he'd open up. She hoped he would open up. But until then, she had to focus back on her daughter who was making a sufficient mess with her food. MJ pulled out her iPhone from her pocket, taking a few pictures of the girl that she'd post up on social media later.

"Oh, you're welcome, darling." Mary Jane beamed at her husband's compliments, and Aunt May was quick to chime in her own encouragement - specifically about the homemade bread rolls. This had MJ lighting up all the more, and she placed a hand against her chest because she felt so touched. Perfect. "Wait, I forgot the bubbly!" She scooted out of her chair to quickly jog back into the kitchen to pull out a chilled bottle from the frig. "We're all drinking apple cider tonight because it's a special occasion," she was grinning from ear to ear when she walked back into the dining area. She made quick work of pouring them all three a glass - and even filled up a sippy cup for little May. "I would've gotten champagne for a toast, but you see... I can't have alcohol anymore..." She watched her husband's face, waiting for the moment when it would click. And when it did, she nodded her head to confirm the news and her smile was so big that she thought her face might crack, "We're having another baby!"

Keeping his composure after the near-electric shock that Aunt May's touch had sent ricocheting down his spine was no easy task. Peter had been contending with his spider-sense for years, and never, not once, had being around his aunt elicited so much as a twinge. It was as if all of his senses had kicked into high gear, and the sounds were deafening -- the scrape of his daughters fork as she tried to push her peas into the center of the plate, the gentle clinking of the ice against the side of MJ's water glass as she brought it to her lips to take a sip. All the while, he could feel Aunt May's green eyes fixed on him over his shoulder, glinting with a hint of concern as she cut the chicken breast that had been placed in front of her.

It was MJ's voice that broke him out of his daze, the cacophony of sound that was arising from the table lowering to a tolerable din. Once more, she was his light at the end of the tunnel - the beacon to bring him back to reality. Something about champagne. It was fitting - he had closed a gargantuan deal with Oscorp earlier that would set their family up for life. May's college tuition would be paid for in full before she even graduated from pre-K. Peter allowed himself to sink into his chair, raising his hands up to rest at the back of his neck for a moment as he pressed his thumbs against the base of his skull where a dull headache had begun to take hold. Eyes curiously watched as Mary Jane floated back into the room, bottle in hand. "The hard stuff," he commented with a small smile, allowing his arms to drift back to his sides as he watched her pour a small amount into his daughter's cup. "Careful there, Mayday, you have class in the morning."

Any other day, he probably would have caught on faster. The wheels in his mind were already turning as he watched her pour the cider from the bottle into the glasses, the small bubbles popping to the surface as his daughter clapped her hands at being included. No alcohol. No champagne. The extensive math and science background that he had under his belt completely failed him at that moment, and MJ uttered the words before he had time to react. This was everything that he ever wanted. Every piece of every dream he had ever had, all compacted into one perfect moment. The second the words fell from her lips, the room began to throb with an unseen energy. "I..." he began, pushing his chair away from the table as his fingers raised to his temples. The headache that had begun to take hold had just cranked to an eleven and his body was on fire, every nerve from his scalp to his toes was firing at once. While his spider-sense had gone haywire before, this was on an entirely different level.

It was wrong. This was wrong. The picture of his daughter, the deal with Oscorp, his Aunt, his wife. And then it began to click. Small details that he had let slide in hopes that maybe, just maybe, he had everything he had ever wished for. Peter had never driven a Civic. His wife's hair smelled like lilacs, not lavender. And Aunt May - her eyes were brown, not green.

"This is wrong. This isn't real." Wide eyes were shut tight, fingers pressing against his lids in an attempt to wake himself up. "Is this a dream? This is a dream. Wake up, Pete."