Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Marvel Cinematic Universe, or Spider-Man: Homecoming, and I'm not making any money from this fic
Summary: Fills parent or guardian square on the Advent Bingo. Aunt May has her own response after the events of the movie
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the whole of the movie; references to violence; swearing
"What the fuck?"
Peter jumped and turned round to face his aunt, who was standing in the doorway of his bedroom and staring at him with a mix of horror and...he winced at the sight...disappointment. "I can explain..." he began.
"That explanation had better be you telling me you made or bought that costume because of Spider-Man and not because you are him, young man."
Peter winced at the stern note in his aunt's voice. He could lie to her. Probably. She might even believe him. Or pretend to believe him. But she was already suspicious. And he couldn't keep this a secret. Not when there were others nowhere near as close to him as she was who knew the truth. "Aunt May..."
He didn't have to continue. Her shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes in resignation. Without a word, she walked out of the room.
Peter hesitated, considering whether he should change out of his costume before he followed his Aunt. But she knew his secret now and he was tired of hiding and pretending to be something he wasn't. Still...he couldn't help but wince as he followed his aunt into the living room and saw her sitting on the couch, her head in her hands. She looked up at him as he stood in front of her. "I should have known."
"That I'm Spider-Man? Aunt May, no one knew that."
"I should have known you were hiding something." She shook her head and added mournfully, "You've always been such a good kid. I never thought I had to worry about you."
"You don't!" he protested. "You don't ever have to worry about me again."
"I don't? Peter, I saw you come in the other night, battered and bruised. And I watched the news. You were in a fight."
"But I'm fine..."
"I told you. I know that's bullshit." She shook her head and sighed. "You know what? I've been trying to be the hip, fun aunt. I never wanted to take the place of your parents, because I know I can't. But this whole new attitude of yours, I don't like."
"No, Peter. You don't get to talk now. You listen. In fact..." May stood up and walked into the kitchen.
Peter didn't need to turn round and watch to know which drawer she was opening. He did turn round as she approached him, carrying a wooden spoon in her hands. He groaned. "You don't need to do this."
"I should ground you instead?" He winced and she continued, "I didn't think so. Turn around. Bend over. Actually, pull your pants down first."
He could resist. He knew that. It wouldn't even take much. He could jump out the window. Run out the door. She wouldn't be able to catch him.
Of course, then he'd never be able to go home again. And May was his aunt. He loved her. And it killed him that she was disappointed in him.
Peter blushed as he pressed the button to make the suit hang loose and then shoved his pants down. He turned round and bent over, resting his hands on the chair's seat.
A sharp sting on his right cheek made him wince. A repeat of the blow on his left had him biting the inside of his cheek to stop any sound from escaping.
The spoon continued to land on alternating cheeks, each strike causing a stinging pain that faded to a slight itch as the next one landed. Peter might have been much stronger physically than he used to be, but he could still be hurt. He could still feel pain.
The spoon stung sharper when May wielded it against his bare thighs and Peter rocked forward slightly, whimpering at the intense burn. She didn't stay there for long before returning to his bottom, covering every inch with the spoon and returning to each spot at least twice.
Peter breathed deep, tears welling in his eyes. He freed one hand from the cushion to swipe at the moisture. "I'm sorry, Aunt May," he whispered.
"I love you, Peter. You have no idea how much I've been worrying about you. I don't want to think about you fighting bad guys and getting hurt. What if you don't come home next time? I can't lose you too."
Peter listened to her and felt awful, hearing how close to tears she was. All he wanted was to turn round and hug her and tell her she didn't have to worry, because he'd stop. But he couldn't. Because if he said that, it would be a lie. He'd tried to stop once already and he hadn't been able to fight his conscience. "I'm sorry," he whispered again. "I love you too. Really," he added, not sure how she could believe him when he was proving the exact opposite by lying and hiding his dangerous behaviour from her.
"I worry about you so much. I kept telling you not to run towards danger, but all that time, you were going towards it."
He could hear that his aunt was crying and squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking out of them. "I couldn't tell you."
A series of harder strikes was the response and Peter winced, shifting from one foot to the other, only just holding back a groan. "Did Mr. Stark know?"
"Yes," Peter admitted; and then gasped at the harder strike to his right sit spot.
"Only Ned," Peter admitted and then jumped as a matching strike landed on his left sit spot.
"So you could have told me."
"I didn't want to...worry you." He whined as the spoon began beating a tattoo out on his butt, the strikes quick and hard.
"That's not an excuse. That's not a reason. From now on, you tell me what's going on in your life. What you're doing. You don't hide it from me."
"But...I can't stop," he admitted.
May was quiet for about a minute or two, though the spoon continued to land unnerringly on his buttocks and thighs, the skin quickly heating up and pulling whimpering groans from him. "I know you're not going to stop doing this. Everything I've seen on the news shows that. And you sneak out every night to fight crime, don't you?"
"Well...partly crime," he admitted. "Partly to give directions. Actually, most of what I'm dealing with is pretty tame in comparison to what I could be doing."
"If you're trying to make me feel better about this, you're going the wrong way about it."
Peter swallowed and spoke in a quiet voice. "I can't just ignore bad things happening, Aunt May. I don't want what happened to Uncle Ben to happen to anyone else. I'm sorry you're worried about me and I promise I'll stay safe and won't lie to you, but please don't ask me to stop doing this. Because I tried that once and it was the wrong move."
She hesitated, resting her hand on his back. "You'll stay safe?"
"And you won't keep lying to me?"
"I'll tell you every time I'm leaving the house." Peter swallowed. "I'm sorry, Aunt May. Sorry I hid things from you and made you worry about me. But I love you and you raised me right. That's why I want to help people and do the right thing."
"Then we're done here. At least for now. If you lie to me again, or make me worry unnecessarily because of the amount of danger you're putting yourself in, you'll be over my knee next time."
"Okay." Peter slowly stood up, reaching his hands back to rub briefly at his backside before he pulled his trousers back into place. Turning to his aunt, he immediately wrapped his arms tightly around her and she quickly hugged him just as tight in return. "I love you," he repeated, pressing in close to her.
"I love you too." With a smile in her voice, May asked, "Do you want to go out for dinner, or stay in and I'll cook?"