Chapter Text
If you were to ask Cindy Moon her favorite time of year, she would probably say Christmastime. It wasn’t a complete lie; she did enjoy the twinkling lights and the snow. But despite those, Cindy despised the fake cheer and pleasantries everyone seemed to put on as soon as December began.
The truth was, Cindy’s favorite season was back-to-school season—those particular few weeks when the sticky heat of summer gradually cools into the soft breeze of fall. And above all, she loved the idea of getting to spend her days with her friends again, rather than endure the hell of being stuck at home with suffocating parents and two loud younger siblings.
So now, here she was, already starting to feel a sense of freedom as her father handed her his credit card and told her to “go nuts” for anything she might need for school.
Standing in the Target stationery aisle, the weight of her father’s “go nuts” instruction finally hit Cindy. He’d handed over a card with a booming credit limit and a literal command to indulge. Why was she even here? Abandoning her cart, she bolted for the exit and headed to her favorite boutique craft store just across the street. It was what she would refer to as a “splurge shop”, the kind of place where the pens and journals were imported from Japan, and the ink felt like silk. It was pricey, sure, but she’d be damned if she spent another semester struggling with a cheap Bic when she had a green light to buy the best.
In fact, she might even spoil herself further by finally, finally buying the Ralph Lauren bag she was desperately eyeing for school.
Cindy smiled to herself as she combed through the glittery notepads with cream-colored paper when a familiar voice from behind startled her. She couldn’t put her finger on just who the voice belonged to. Cindy wanted desperately to stare, but decided against it for fear of looking weird. So instead of turning around, Cindy did the best thing she could think of: pretend to be busy and eavesdrop.
“Look, Morgs, Dad told me that we’ll all be eating together at home. So... let’s just shop for now, then pick up cheeseburgers later with Uncle Happy, alright? I’m sure he’ll even let you sneak some fries while in the car,” the voice said gently.
A little girl—Morgs, presumably—stomped her feet and whined. “But I’m hungry now!” she wailed.
The thing is, she could recognize that first voice anywhere...if it weren’t for the unusual company the person seemingly had. That pitchy, ever-cheerful voice could only belong to none other than one Peter Parker. But it couldn’t be him, could it?
Cindy subtly edged closer to listen. “Hey, shh,” the boy said while holding the girl close. She couldn’t be older than six years old. “How about this, I’ll get you everything you want in this store. Look, there, I see some Spider-Man-themed stuff,” Cindy could hear the grin in his voice as he pointed towards the superhero section. “Maybe you can use them for kindergarten.”
From the corner of Cindy’s eye, she saw the girl visibly calm down, a cheeky smile spreading across her face. Cindy had a sneaky feeling the kid knew exactly how to play him. At that same moment, her suspicions about the voice were confirmed.
Peter’s eyes snapped toward her the second he and the kid entered her peripheral vision, his neck moving at a speed that should have caused whiplash. His eyes widened—a brief flash of panic Cindy would have missed if she weren’t staring right at him. An awkward, practiced smile graced his face, and he began approaching her as soon as the little girl ran off towards the shopping carts.
There were a million reasons why the person inching towards her didn’t make any sense. This was Peter Parker: the boy who lived in a cramped two-bedroom apartment with his aunt—and only his aunt. This was the boy who wore scuffed Converse and baggy, hand-me-down sweaters.
So what was he—in all his science-pun-T-shirt glory—doing with a…little sister? More importantly, how was he promising to buy her anything she wanted in this store, of all places? It didn't add up. The Peter Parker she knew didn't have a “splurge shop” budget, let alone a secret sibling who seemed to have him wrapped around her finger.
As she took a glance through the glass windows, Cindy caught the gaze of a gruff man in a tailored suit outside the store, staring right at her. Noticing this, Peter looked back and sheepishly smiled at him. Was this the “Uncle Happy” he had mentioned earlier? Her heart skipped a beat when the man tapped an earpiece and spoke while looking straight at Cindy. What business did Peter and his supposed sister have with a…bodyguard?
She averted her gaze from the man and looked back to Peter, easily returning his smile. There was something light that radiated from him every time she went near him, she realized.
“Hey, Cindy,” he said, uncertain, as a hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “What’cha doing here?”
Cindy couldn’t help but stare for a beat, not knowing what to say. “Uh, just, you know, back-to-school shopping. My dad told me to buy... stuff, y’know?”
Realizing how dumb his question had been, as they both could only have one reason for being here, Peter shook his head and said, “Oh, yeah, yeah, of course. Me too!”
Which brought Cindy back to her original question: how could Peter Parker, the perpetual scholarship kid, afford anything in a place like this? Don’t get her wrong—she had nothing against the fact that Peter only had his aunt to support him. But even Cindy, who was practically toeing the line of trust-fund baby, found this store a bit too bougie for comfort.
Nothing from what she thought to what she’s seeing now was adding up. Between the designer-clad bodyguard outside and Peter’s casual promise to buy out the shelf for his kid sister, the Peter Parker she knew from the hallways of Midtown High was rapidly being replaced.
As if summoned to break the awkward tension, the kid came barreling towards Peter. She grabbed a handful of his jeans, tugging insistently while pointing to a cart filled to the brim. From what Cindy could see, it was a chaotic hoard: sparkly gel pens, a unicorn-themed backpack, a massive set of crayons, and, most notably, a mountain of Spider-Man and Iron Man trinkets littered throughout.
Peter couldn’t help but chuckle as he stared at the monstrosity the girl had presented him. He reached down to ruffle her hair, though she ducked away to return to her prize. “Goodness, Morgana! How are we going to fit all that in the car?”
The little girl just planted her hands on her hips. “You told me you would get me everything I wanted, Petey,” she said, sticking her tongue out for good measure.
“Mommy’s going to have my head for spoiling you like this,” he sighed, though his face betrayed him as a grin broke out.
“You say the same thing as Daddy,” she giggled. Cindy could already tell that Morgs—or Morgana?—was a quick-witted child. Exactly like her brother, she thought.
Peter snapped a picture of the shopping cart and sent it off, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed a quick follow-up text. He and the girl locked eyes in a brief, silent staring contest before he eventually folded.
“Alright, alright, let's go pay for all this, you Mongoose.” He laughed, reaching for the handle of the overflowing cart.
The little girl squealed and threw her arms around his leg. “You’re really the best brother ever, Petey!”
As they began heading toward the register, Peter looked back at Cindy and offered a friendly wave. “Bye, Cindy,” he said, his smile as effortless and genuine as ever.
Cindy knew she wouldn’t forgive herself if she let this remain a mystery. Acting on impulse, she grabbed the first notebook that caught her eye and trailed them towards the counter. She already had everything she actually wanted in her basket anyway; now, she just needed answers.
She hung back by a tower display of luxury fountain pens, her heart hammering a rhythmic thump-thump against her ribs. Cindy watched as Peter hoisted the kid to sit atop the pristine marble counter, handing her each item to be checked out. The cashier, a woman who looked like she breathed filtered air and spoke only in soft vowels, seemed annoyed at first by having a child sit on the counter. But as she eyed the hefty amount of items in their cart, she retained her pleasant, plastic smile.
Peter’s sister handed each item forward, the woman scanning each item with sparkling eyes as the number skyrocketed. “That will be six hundred and seventy-nine dollars and twenty cents, Sir,” the cashier said smoothly.
Cindy’s jaw nearly hit the floor. Six hundred dollars? On stationery and trinkets? Peter didn’t even flinch. Her eyes burned as he didn’t reach for a worn-out Velcro wallet or start counting crumpled singles. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, matte-black card. Cindy could’ve sworn the cashier’s eyes widened significantly when she read the name on the card.
Even from ten feet away, Cindy saw the shimmer of the embedded chip and the distinct, minimalist logo in the corner. It wasn’t a standard bank card, it was a corporate card—the kind with no limit and a lot of NDAs that came with it.
She knew Peter knew she was there; he started getting twitchy when she tried to pay attention to the card. “Sign here, Mr—” the cashier said, quickly cut off by a loud cough from Peter.
“Thanks,” Peter mumbled, reaching for the stylus and scribbling on the tablet. He looked down at his sister, already trying to tear into a pack of stickers. “Hey, wait until we get to the car, Mongoose. Uncle Hap is already checking his watch. We still have to buy those cheeseburgers, right?”
“Is Daddy coming home for dinner?” she asked, her voice carrying easily in the empty shop.
Peter paused, his expression softening into something incredibly fond and…sad? “Well, he promised, didn’t he? And you know Dad hates breaking promises to us.”
As Peter grabbed the heavy bags, he turned and caught Cindy’s eye one last time. For a split second, she could see that her awkward, bumbling classmate was gone. In his place was someone who looked burdened with power and responsibility. He gave her a small nod before his sister yanked his hand and pulled him toward the rotating door.
Cindy watched through the glass as the man in the suit—Uncle Happy—carried Morgan to the car before taking some of the bags from Peter and stuffing them in the trunk. As the engine purred to life, the car vanished into the late afternoon traffic, leaving Cindy standing in the middle of the shop, still wondering. She quickly checked out her purchases and paused on the sidewalk.
The sticky summer heat was finally gone, replaced by a cool, sharp breeze that smelled like dried leaves and secrets. Cindy looked down at the bags in her hand, then back at the busy street. Classes were back again in two weeks, and for the first time in her life, she wasn't just excited to see her friends.
She was excited to find out who Peter Parker actually was.