[Third Person Pov]
Peter was laughing so hard on Gwen's bed that the mattress creaked under him. He clutched his stomach, rolled onto his side, then onto his back again, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes.
Gwen sat cross-legged near the headboard, trying—and failing—to keep a straight face. Soft chuckles kept escaping her as she watched him lose it completely.
"Please stop laughing," she said, voice strained with the effort of holding herself together. "I can't get through this if you're making me laugh too."
"Hahaha—I'm sorry," Peter managed between gasps, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "But that's just so funny. Aria was really making him go through it. I have to reward her when I see her."
Gwen's amusement faded into a familiar mix of fondness and mild exasperation. She shook her head. "Please don't. She's already a menace as it is. We don't want to encourage that kind of behavior. She's turning out to be more and more like you every day."
Peter's expression shifted instantly into pure, unfiltered pride. He propped himself up on one elbow, grinning at her. "And is that such a bad thing? Sounds like even more reasons to reward her, then."
Gwen rolled her eyes so hard it was almost audible, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward despite herself.
Peter shifted closer, settling onto his side so he could face her properly. The laughter had finally settled into a residual smile. "So what happened afterwards? From what it seems to me, everything worked out in the end."
Gwen's expression tightened slightly at the memory. She looked down at her hands for a moment before answering. "Yeah… only after Aria and I returned from our girls' day out."
She could still feel the nervous flutter in her chest from that walk back to the house—the way every step closer had made her stomach tighten.
---
[Flashback]
Gwen eased the front door open just enough to poke her head through, scanning the hallway and the visible stretch of the living room for any sign of immediate danger. Right beneath her, Aria mirrored the exact same motion, tiny hands braced on the doorframe, eyes wide and serious as she peeked inside.
"Dad?" Gwen called out, voice carefully casual. She waited for her spidey-sense to flare—half-expecting the sharp, prickling warning that would precede a lecture severe enough to feel like a beating to her backside.
"In the living room," George answered. His voice was stern, but calmer than it had been when they'd left earlier. That alone was almost more unnerving than shouting would have been.
Gwen stepped fully inside and shut the door behind them. Aria scurried past her on quiet feet, making a beeline for the living room.
George was seated in the armchair that faced the television, posture upright, expression unreadable. Aria stopped directly in front of him, hands clasped behind her back, and looked up at him while batting her eyelashes with exaggerated innocence.
"What?" George asked, catching the cautious way she was studying him.
Aria brought her hands around and held out a small plastic takeout bowl carefully balanced in both palms. Inside was a neat scoop of ice cream that had started to soften just slightly at the edges.
"I got this for you," she said, voice soft and earnest. "I felt bad. I'm sowwy. I had Mommy Gwen keep it nice and cold so I could give it to you as an apology gift."
George's hand rose to his chest for a second. He turned his face slightly away and drew in a slow, controlled breath, as though the sight of her sincere little expression had physically knocked the wind out of him. When he looked back, the hard line of his mouth had softened.
"…Thank you, sweetie. I really appreciate it." He took the bowl from her carefully, then reached out and patted her head with genuine warmth. Aria beamed up at him.
Gwen stepped into the living room just in time to see Aria climb up onto George's lap without hesitation and begin feeding him small spoonfuls of the melting ice cream. The sight made Gwen freeze for half a second before a quiet, private pride settled in her chest.
'Smart girl,' she thought, mentally giving Aria two solid thumbs-up.
George accepted another bite, then cleared his throat. "You and I," he said, glancing at Gwen while still letting Aria feed him, "need to have a very serious discussion about all of this."
Gwen stayed standing near the edge of the room, arms loosely crossed, waiting.
"I'm realizing now that I may have overreacted a little," George continued, voice measured. He paused to swallow. "I didn't hear you out entirely, and I may have overlooked some details."
The admission hung in the air for a moment. Then his brow furrowed again, the familiar parental headache returning.
"That, however, does not mean I'm okay with all of this. You just turned sixteen, for God's sake. How could you possibly have a biological daughter?"
Aria, still perched comfortably on his lap, smiled with pure mischief. Even after apologizing, she clearly couldn't resist.
"You see," she began in a sweet, explanatory tone, "when a mommy and daddy love each other very much—"
George's head snapped toward her so fast it was almost comical. "What?" he asked, equal parts concern and pure bewilderment at how a child her age had managed to acquire that particular piece of information.
Gwen couldn't help the snicker that escaped her.
George's head snapped toward her so fast it was a wonder he didn't give himself whiplash. His expression was a chaotic mix of outrage, disbelief, and pure parental horror.
"Just what exactly have you and Parker been teaching this little girl?!" he demanded, voice rising and falling as his emotions refused to settle on a single one.
"Ahhh!" Aria chirped helpfully, lifting the spoon toward the corner of his mouth like a tiny, determined nurse.
Still glaring at Gwen, George leaned forward almost on autopilot and opened his mouth. Aria carefully fed him another spoonful of the softening ice cream. Gwen rolled her eyes at the ridiculous sight, dropped her bag onto the couch, and plopped down with a soft *thud*, settling in for what was clearly going to be a long explanation.
"So, like I was trying to tell you before," she began, a lopsided smile tugging at her lips, "her conception is actually a pretty funny story. You see, she first started out as Peter's AI."
George nearly choked. "Excuse me?!" His eyes darted down to the grinning child currently perched on his lap.
He immediately covered Aria's ears with both hands and mouthed the next words with exaggerated urgency. 'Is she a robot?' His expression made it clear he was operating under the assumption that Aria had no idea what she was—and that this was somehow why the little girl believed she was Gwen's biological daughter.
Gwen shook her head, fighting another laugh. "No, Dad. She isn't a robot. She's more of a… honestly?" She paused, frowning as she tried to find the right category. "I really don't know what she is."
"I'm a cyborg," Aria announced casually, still holding the spoon. "I have both organic and robotic parts."
George stared at her in open surprise. Then he flinched hard when the soft, shimmering illusion that usually surrounded her body suddenly dissipated in a clean, ripple-like wave—revealing the subtle, intricate circuitry and faintly glowing seams beneath her skin for a brief second—before the illusion smoothly reformed again as if nothing had happened.
"…So then…" George began, eyeing her with fresh apprehension.
"My organic parts were made using Mom and Dad's DNA," Aria clarified, completely unbothered. "Thus making them both my biological parents."
George's jaw tightened. "Did Peter make you? Because if he did, he and I are going to have a real long talk."
"He didn't," Gwen answered quickly. "Like I keep trying to tell you for the third time now—it's really a funny story."
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and launched into the explanation with the practiced air of someone who had already told this tale more times than she cared to count.
"You see, there was this Multiversal guardian who named himself the Watcher. A real pervert, honestly. He appeared in front of Peter and the rest of us, claiming the multiverse was in danger and needed our help. Well… it mostly needed Peter, but we tagged along anyway because, y'know, we live in the multiverse and all."
George's face remained perfectly straight the entire time. He didn't interrupt. He didn't blink. He simply stared at his daughter as she continued, describing how they had traveled across realities, fought an android whose sole purpose was to extinguish all life in the multiverse, and somehow ended up in the middle of a cosmic-scale crisis involving Infinity Stones.
Gwen finished with a little flourish of her hand. "Then we turned Aria into a virus, shot her into Ultron, she took over his body, and using the Infinity Stones she constructed her own body. And that," she said with a bright, slightly unhinged smile, "is the story of how I became a mother at just fifteen years old."
George slowly leaned back against the armrest, one hand dragging down over his face. A long, defeated sigh escaped him.
"You and Peter are both going to be the death of me," he muttered. "Do any of you even realize how much of a responsibility raising a child is?"
"I mean, in my defense," Gwen said, raising one hand like a student caught talking in class, "Aria isn't like most children. She quite literally has an aspect of reality on her forehead and is part AI. She doesn't require the same attention that most kids need."
George's expression darkened. The words clearly struck a nerve.
"A child is still a child, Gwen," he said firmly, voice low and serious. "Even if they're a cyborg, or part AI, or whatever she is."
Aria turned her head to look at him, visibly offended. Her little brows drew together in a perfect, wounded frown.
George immediately softened, shooting her a quick, apologetic smile and giving her a gentle pat on the back.
"You clearly don't know what you're getting yourselves into," George said, his voice rising as the lecture gained steam. "You're both still children yourselves, for crying out loud. This isn't the same as you going out and trying to be a hero. This is a much bigger responsibility than what you or Peter could possibly imagine."
The words were starting to grate on Gwen. Her jaw tightened, and she opened her mouth to push back—but Aria spoke first.
"You're wrong."
The little girl was staring down at the empty ice-cream bowl still resting in her hands, her voice quiet but firm.
George blinked. "What was that?"
Aria lifted her head and looked straight at him. The playful sparkle that usually lived in her eyes was gone, replaced by something far more serious.
"I said you're wrong." Her tone was stronger now, steady and clear. "My father knows exactly what a big responsibility being a parent is. You seem to be forgetting something. My dad barely knew his parents. He understands more than anyone how important a parent is to a child."
She shifted slightly on George's lap but never broke eye contact.
"Even though I'm more aware than other kids and have stronger logical and critical-thinking skills, he doesn't let that stop him from fulfilling his role as a father. It doesn't make him lazy with his responsibilities. He acted as my father even before I had a body. He went out of his way to teach me about empathy, moral obligations, basic human decency…"
Aria's voice softened for a moment, but the intensity behind it only grew.
"I sometimes feel guilty," she continued. "He could be out there saving someone's life, but instead he uses that time to spend it with me. It could be something simple—like having a movie night or playing a board game. He views our time together as something more important than being a hero. And that's saying something, because no one understands the responsibility of being a hero better than him."
She fixed George with a sharp, unwavering glare.
"So you can't sit there and say my father doesn't know anything without even knowing what he's like as a parent to me. I'm connected to the internet. I see it firsthand when I'm surveilling the city. Not everyone has the privilege of having a good father figure in their lives."
Aria's expression finally eased. She looked away toward the far wall, a faint, almost shy smile touching her lips.
"I honestly consider myself blessed… Since after all I ended up having the best one"
Silence settled over the living room.
Gwen and George both sat there, momentarily speechless. George opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again as he searched for the right words. Eventually he let out a long, heavy sigh and spoke with genuine sincerity.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed without knowing the facts—"
---
Gwen paused the flashback there.
She stared at Peter's back. He was sitting on the edge of her bed now, shoulders slightly hunched, hugging her pillow tightly against his chest. His face was turned toward the wall, and he was trying—very hard—to stay quiet. The soft, uneven sound of a sniffle still managed to escape him.
Gwen's lips curved into a slow, amused smile.
"…Are you crying right now?" she asked, voice light with teasing.
"No," Peter forced out. The word came out strained and noticeably wet. He still refused to look at her.
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