[Third Person Pov]
Peter was spooning Gwen from behind, his chest pressed flush against her back, one arm draped loosely over her waist. His cheek rested against hers as he looked at her from the corners of his eyes, voice low and careful. "…Are you okay?"
"Yeah… just dying from embarrassment over here. Nothing to worry about," Gwen mumbled, both hands clamped firmly over her face like she could somehow hide from the entire universe.
Peter's lips twitched. He resisted the urge to laugh the second he confirmed she wasn't actually hurt—just mortified. The concern in his tone softened into something warmer, almost fond.
"What even happened?"
"Nothing. I was just… overstimulated. It triggered a crying response out of me," she explained, the words muffled behind her palms.
Peter's ego practically glowed. He let out a proud little cackle and immediately started peppering her cheeks with quick, insistent kisses, each one louder and more exaggerated than the last.
"You have no idea what those words are doing to my ego right now."
He paused mid-kiss, lips still pressed to her cheek, when George's voice suddenly echoed from the other side of the room—casual, completely unaware.
"Kiddo, I'm off to work. I'll see you later tonight, alright?"
Peter's mouth opened, a mischievous grin already spreading across his face as he prepared to answer for her. Gwen felt it coming a full second before he could speak. Panic flared through her. She slapped both hands over his mouth with nervous speed and shouted back in her most normal, daughterly voice:
"Alright, Dad! Love you!"
"Haha, love you too, kid," George called cheerfully, already moving toward the front of the house.
Gwen kept her hands clamped over Peter's mouth and shot him a sharp warning look through her eyes. They both went completely still, listening. With their enhanced senses every footstep, every soft clink of keys, every rustle of George's coat was crystal clear. They tracked him all the way to the front door.
The solid *click* of the lock and the soft thud of the door closing finally released the tension. Gwen's shoulders visibly deflated. She let out a long, shaky sigh of relief and slowly peeled her hands away from Peter's face.
Peter didn't say a word. He just stared at her, expression unreadable, eyes searching hers.
"Sorry," Gwen winced, breaking the awkward silence with an apologetic little smile.
"Want to tell me why I'm suddenly the boyfriend your dad isn't supposed to know about?" Peter asked, voice low and suspicious. His gaze never wavered.
Gwen gave a weak, guilty chuckle. "Yeah… so my dad is very cross with you right now. He's kind of forbidden you from staying over—especially during the night."
Peter pushed himself upright on the bed, brow furrowed. He was usually pretty good at knowing when he'd done something to set George off, but he genuinely couldn't remember anything recent that would earn an overnight ban.
"What did I do?"
Gwen pressed her lips together, clearly fighting a smile that kept trying to break free. "Okay, so… you know when you had to go to Tony Stark's press conference and dropped Aria off so she and I could spend time together?"
"Yeah…" Peter answered slowly, still not seeing the connection, especially since he thought he had earned most of George's approval after Gwen's birthday.
The smile finally won. Gwen's eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter. "Yeah. So it turns out my dad had absolutely no idea that Aria was technically our biological daughter…"
Peter's hands flew up to cover his own mouth. He stared at her in pure disbelief. A sound that was half-cough, half-laugh escaped him.
"No way."
Gwen nodded casually, lips pressed tightly together like she was holding back an entire fit of giggles. She clicked her tongue, the picture of forced innocence.
"Yup. So imagine his surprise when Aria and I walked in and she greeted her grandpa."
Peter was already dying. He collapsed backward onto the mattress, one arm thrown over his face as silent laughter shook his entire body. Gwen dissolved into giggles right beside him, the memory of that afternoon replaying vividly in her mind as she retold Peter everything that happened.
---
[Flashback]
Gwen closed the front door behind her with her hip, Aria perched comfortably on her hip as they started up the stairs. The little girl—well, not so little anymore—had her arms wrapped tightly around Gwen's neck, legs hooked around her waist like she had zero intention of ever being put down.
"Aren't you honestly way too big for me to be carrying you up like this?" Gwen teased, adjusting her grip.
Aria scoffed, resting her chin on Gwen's shoulder with dramatic flair. "Oh please. I don't weigh anything. I'm as light as a feather. Literally."
She batted her eyelashes, voice turning syrupy sweet. "Are you saying you don't want to hold me?"
Gwen rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. "I'm saying you're a superhero who still wants to be held by her mommy."
Aria went quiet for a beat. Then she pouted, cheeks pinking. "…I mean, when you put it like that, it just sounds wrong and embarrassing."
The two of them were still laughing and giggling when they reached the top of the stairs and stepped into the main living area. George was in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water.
Aria's face lit up the second she spotted him.
"Hiya, Grandpa George!" she called out, bright and delighted, waving with the hand that wasn't still clinging to Gwen.
George nearly spat his drink across the counter. He coughed hard, recovered with an awkward little laugh, and turned around with a raised brow.
"Grandpa? Young missy, I don't look a day over thirty. If you want, you can call me uncle—but I'm far too young to be a grandpa just yet," he said with a scoff, clearly expecting the joke to land.
Aria's head tilted in pure confusion. Her little brows drew together.
"Uncle? But you're my grandpa. Why would I call you uncle?"
Realization crashed over Gwen like a bucket of ice water.
'Fuck.'
"Haha… I think you've got something a little mixed up here," George said, still trying to laugh it off as he set his glass down on the counter.
He glanced over at his daughter with a faint, amused chuckle. "I didn't know you were babysitting for the Parkers."
"Huh?" Gwen's brain had already begun short-circuiting. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, desperately searching for any explanation that wouldn't end with her father having a full-blown aneurysm when finding out that his daughter was finally a mother.
"I remember seeing her during the opening of F.E.A.S.T.," George continued, taking another casual sip. "Didn't ask questions. Figured she was just some distant relative or something."
Aria turned her head toward Gwen, genuine confusion written all over her face.
"Does he not know I'm your biological daughter?"
"PHTTTT—!" George spat his drink across the entire floor. Both Gwen and Aria jumped, instinctively taking a cautious step back as droplets of water sprayed everywhere. "WHAT?!"
Gwen adjusted her grip on Aria and scratched the side of her upper lip with the back of her thumb, voice small. "No, Aria… I haven't exactly had the chance to tell him yet."
George's eyes darted wildly between the two of them, bouncing back and forth like he was watching a particularly traumatic tennis match.
"She's telling the truth?!" he shouted. "Gwen. You have ten seconds to explain to me why I am suddenly starting to see your features all over her face."
Gwen offered the most painfully stretched, awkward smile of her life. "…Because you didn't notice them last time?"
George's expression went stone-cold. Every trace of humor vanished.
"I am begging you," he said, voice low and deadly serious, "for everything that is good and holy in this world, tell me you're pulling my leg. Tell me this is just another elaborate prank Peter is playing on me."
Then, suddenly, a hysterical little laugh burst out of him. He was clearly losing the plot in real time.
"Oh wait—wait, I get it. This is just another one of your future kids from the future, right? Really, Gwen, you should've told me sooner. So how long is this one staying?"
Gwen winced. "Yeah… about that. So she actually isn't from the future. She's genuinely my daughter. With Pete. It's actually a really funny story—one I think you'd find quite humorous if you just—"
The glass in George's hand shattered against the counter. His left eye began to twitch.
Aria, completely unfazed, stuck out both hands in classic "hang loose" gestures and started shaking them with the most sleazy, Parker-brand grin Gwen had ever seen on anyone who wasn't Peter.
"Grandpapa, it's all good in the hood," she said cheerfully. "We're all fam here, ain't we?"
Gwen stared at her daughter with a completely flat expression. "What are you doing?"
Aria shrugged, still holding the pose. "Seemed like something Daddy would do to get under Grandpa's skin. I thought it'd be funny."
"Aria," Gwen said through gritted teeth, cheeks puffing as she swallowed down a laugh that was desperately trying to escape, "can you not see that Grandpa is in a very fragile state right now?"
Aria tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. "But literally Daddy's entire philosophy is that the best time to crack a joke is when you're not supposed to. I think my timing was honestly on point."
That was the final straw.
George's face crumpled. Tears welled up in his eyes, then spilled over as full-body sobs overtook him. He buried his face in both hands, shoulders shaking, startling both Gwen and Aria into silence.
"She really is his fucking daughter, isn't she?" he cried into his palms.
Aria immediately put on a deep southern drawl, pretending to tip an invisible cowboy hat. "Born and raised."
George only cried harder.
Gwen had to slap a hand over her own mouth, every muscle in her face straining against the absolute need to burst out laughing. "Dad… please…"
"I can't do this sober," George muttered, already stumbling toward the liquor cabinet. "I need a drink. Something strong."
He grabbed a bottle of scotch and a glass, began pouring, then suddenly slammed the bottle back down with enough force to rattle the cabinets.
"I just remembered—I can't get drunk! The serum wasn't a gift. It was a curse! Because now I have to deal with this shit sober!"
Still, he poured the glass anyway and downed half of it in one burning swallow, pointing a shaky finger toward Gwen, his face morphing into different expressions and questions.
"Yeah so, I'm going to go and grab my bag while Aria and I head out." She speed-walked down the hall, snatched her bag from her bedroom, and slung the strap over her shoulder in record time.
When she returned, George was slumped over the kitchen counter, swirling the remaining scotch in his glass with one hand while the other pressed against his forehead, pushing his hair all the way back. A haunted, thousand-yard stare had settled over his eyes.
"Bye, Dad," Gwen said quickly, already moving toward the door. "We'll talk when we get back."
"Bye, Grandpapa!" Aria chirped from over Gwen's shoulder, waving with her whole hand and flashing every one of her teeth in a bright, cheerful grin.
All George could see in that smile were Peter's taunting features staring back at him.
The second the front door clicked shut behind them, the only sound left in the house was George's long, agonized wail.
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