(3rd Person POV)

The next day was a rainy Saturday, so Peter and Eliza stayed inside watching and discussing their favorite tv shows in Peter's apartment.

"You're not cheddar, you're just some common bitch." Captain Holt said from the tv. Peter and Eliza chuckled a bit.

They were both in a position that would probably mess up their spines, Peter like a pretzel in the yellow chair, next to Eliza laying half on the couch, her head on the floor and her feet in the air, basically upside down. They heard keys jiggling outside and then the door open. Inside came Uncle Ben and Aunt May, shaking off their umbrella's and groceries in their hands. The teenagers paused the tv and go to help put groceries away. 

"Guys I got you Cinnamon Toast Crunch," May says, shaking a box of cereal in front of their faces.

Eliza pumped a fist to the air, "YES I LOVE CEREAL! Thank you!" they said at the same time.

"Peter I also got you some new t-shirts, since you seem to have grown a bit," May says, gesturing to his figure and throwing a few t-shirts at his face, "So go try those on."

Peter smiled and ran to his room, leaving Eliza alone with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. They finished putting the groceries away and sat in the living room.

"So Eliza, got any new Star Wars collectables?" Uncle Ben asked.

Eliza perked up, "No, but I heard that Ned is saving up to get the new lego death star."

"That's so cool," Uncle Ben replied, "I really want to get an AT-AT for Peter for his birthday in a few months," he said in a hushed voice. Eliza smiles.

Suddenly Peter poked his head out of his room. 'Shit, I forgot that he now has super hearing.' Eliza thought. 

"Are you talking about Star Wars without me?" Peter grinned.

"W-what no. pshh," Uncle Ben waved a hand, then tried to change the subject, "How do those shirts fit buddy?"

Peter came out of his room wearing a gray NASA t-shirt. He struck a pose like a model and they all laughed. The rest of the afternoon consisted of more modeling from Peter, occasionally flipping his imaginary hair, leaving them in tears of laughter.

Peter was in his room doing his homework, and Eliza said her goodbyes, yawning, saying she needed to head home. At the door, Uncle Ben stopped her and said, "Eliza, I just wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to Peter for the last, gosh, almost 10 years," he chuckled a little, "his mood is just always brighter when you are around, and I love that you two have made really good memories over the years. I also wanted you to know that you're like daughter to me, I love you and you are such an amazing kid." Eliza started to tear up. She smiled widely and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you Uncle Ben," she whispered, "that really means a lot to me. And I have always thought of you as my father figure. Love you too." She pulled away from the hug and smiled at him, leaving the Parker household in a bright mood.

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A/N-I'm so sorry in advance y'all.

Peter Parker snuck out of his room that night, going to market to get some chocolate milk. He thought nothing of it, seeing as he usually did it maybe once a month. He walked down the street. Back at the apartment, Ben went into Peter's room. He was confused as to why the boy wasn't there.

"Hey May! Peter's not in his room, I think he snuck out. I'm going to look for him, he can't have gone far," Ben said to his wife. 

May looked up from her book, "Ok, just be careful and be back soon, I'm making meatloaf. Love you."

"Love you too," Ben smiled. He didn't know how he got so lucky with May. She was the light of his world. And Peter of course. Speaking of Peter...

Peter put his chocolate milk on the counter. "$3.07. You only have $3. Either pick something else, or give me 7 cents," the store clerk said, crossing his arms. It was obvious that he had had a bad day, or he was just naturally a mean person. Peter didn't have 7 cents, so he took some change from the tip jar. "No, you can leave a penny but you can't take one." the clerk said, "You have to buy something for at least $10 to take a penny." 

"What? That doesn't even make any sense-"

"Sorry, not my policy. Come on, you're holding up the line."

A man with shoulder length blond hair, sunglasses, a beanie and a star on his left wrist set his beer down on the counter. Peter scoffed and started to leave the store. Before he left, he noticed that the man had knocked down a display, earning a glare from the clerk, who bent down to pick it up. While the clerk was looking away, the man took all the cash from the register and threw Peter his chocolate milk. The clerk stood back up and noticed that all the money was missing and the man who stole it was running away with a gun in his hand.

"Hey! Stop that guy!" the clerk said to Peter.

"Sorry, not my policy." Peter said sassily, walking away and back down the street.

Suddenly there was a gun shot, and Peter snapped his head towards the noise. He saw the guy that had stolen the money scramble away, gun in hand. Peter slowly crossed the street, trying to see if anyone was hurt. He saw a familiar figure laying on the ground, with a bullet wound in their chest, red blood staining the person's shirt.

Peter came closer to the figure and gasped, covering his mouth, tears forming in his eyes.

Uncle Ben.

Peter fell to his knees next to Ben, his hands reaching to try and stop the blood coming out of Uncle Ben's body. 

"No, no, no. Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben," Peter muttered. Then he yelled to no one around him, "CALL AN AMBULANCE! SOME CALL AN AMBULANCE! Oh my god, no, Uncle Ben, No," Tears were streaming down his face fast. No, not Uncle Ben.

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The police sat down with Aunt May at the kitchen table. They showed her a picture that the sketch artist had drawn of the criminal that had shot Uncle Ben, asking her if she knew him. She just shook her head, not being able to speak, without completely breaking down. 

The police men and women decided not to ask her any further questions, because May was still in a state of shock. The man who was asking May questions was walking away when Peter stopped him, asking for the picture the sketch artist had drawn. He nodded and handed it to him.

"There was also another thing. He had a star tattoo on his left wrist," the cop said and walked away. 

Peter needed to find this guy and catch him.

(Eliza's POV)

I was sitting in my room in my pajamas, listening to some music when I heard my mom's phone ring. I heard some muffled talking and then my mom came into my room with tears in her eyes. I jumped up, rushing over to her.

"Mom, is everything alright?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No, it-it's Ben. H-he was shot," she said, tears running down her cheeks.

My knees felt weak. As I was collapsing onto the floor, my mom quickly grabbed me, holding my shaking body in a tight grasp. I started to sob. We sat there for about ten minutes before I said, "P-Peter. I h-have to go see him."

She nodded and released me from her grasp. I ran to the window, climbing up the fire escape. Thankfully Peter's window was unlocked. I stepped through the frame and place a foot on the ground, my eyes searching for Peter. The room is almost completely dark, the only light coming from a small lamp on Peter's desk.

I heard a small sniffle, and I turned towards the noise. On his bed, Peter was laying curled in a ball, hugging himself with a thin blanket covering him. He was shaking.

"Oh my god, Peter." I rushed over to him, and he sat up slowly, glancing at me. I noticed that there were red rings around his eyes. I enveloped him in a large hug. We sat there for a while before I got up to grab another blanket. Bringing it back to him, we positioned ourselves on the bed so that his arms were around my waist and his face in my chest. I had my hands in his hair, scratching his head to try and calm him down. 

After about half an hour of silence except for soft sniffles, I whispered, "You know, this afternoon right before I left," I cleared my throat, "he told me that he had always thought of me as a daughter. And that he was grateful for your and I's friendship," my voice cracked a little, tears were rolling down both mine and Peter's cheeks now. 

"He really did love you, you know," Peter said, his voice a little hoarse from the crying, "and me, and Aunt May. He is-was," he sniffled, "a really good person. The last t-thing that he said to me was pretty random, he had just been reading a book and came in and read this prompt, 'with great power comes great responsibility.' I think that he just thought it was pretty wise." I saw him smile a little.

"Good quote though." I pointed out.

(3rd Person POV)

They laid there for another hour, making a few comments about how great Uncle Ben was here and there, until they fell asleep, their arms wrapped around each other, keeping the each other safe.