Tony reaching out hadn't been part of Clark's plan, but that wasn't going to stop him from heading to New Mexico to meet this world's god.
That evening, after getting home, Clark remembered something.
Looking at his parents at the dinner table, he said, "Oh, right. Mom, Dad, there's something I wanted to ask you about."
"What is it, Clark?" May looked at her eldest son, the one who almost never gave anyone cause to worry.
"It's about Eddie." Clark poked at the food on his plate. "He was saying earlier that he's basically healed up now. Even the doctors called his recovery a miracle."
Ben clearly admired Eddie quite a bit. "That kid's tough. Reminds me a lot of myself when I was younger. The fact that he protected the evidence in a situation like that proves he's stronger than most people. That's exactly why he makes such a good intern for me."
"That's actually what I wanted to bring up, Dad." Clark looked up. "Eddie's got nobody at home but himself. He's in New York alone, and there's no telling when some criminal might come after him for payback. So... I was thinking maybe he could move in with us."
Ben and May both paused.
In Clark's head, his little devil cheered, wearing a suit and slamming an abacus around.
Yes! More labor! Someone to mow the lawn, fix the roof, maybe unclog the drains!
The little angel, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and clutching a book titled A Guide to Saving Teenagers, kicked the little devil clean across the room.
Shut up, you shameless exploiter! We are offering a young man with a new purpose a warm place to land. This is compassion. This is the spirit of Superman!
Ignoring the two idiots in his head, Clark just watched his parents.
"We've got more than enough spare rooms," May said first, without hesitation. There was only sympathy in her face. "That child grew up without real parents looking after him. He's had a hard life. He nearly died helping Ben. He's one of the kids from this neighborhood too."
Ben looked at his son warmly, clearly pleased by the suggestion. "You're right, son. Bring Eddie over. Under my roof, I'd like to see which gang decides to come looking for trouble. And this way, I can personally teach him how to write a proper story."
"Then it's settled. Peter and I will go help him move tonight!"
Clark headed upstairs immediately to grab his brother.
Not long after, he and Peter were at Eddie's front door. They hadn't even warned him ahead of time. They wanted it to be a surprise.
Clark rang the bell.
From inside came Eddie's voice: "Coming! Hang on a sec!"
A moment later, the door opened. Eddie looked genuinely happy to see them.
"What are you guys doing here? Let me guess, I'm being invited over for dinner?"
"No," Peter said. "From now on, it's our place too."
Eddie froze.
"What?!"
He grabbed Peter by the shoulders, then looked at Clark. When both of them nodded, he practically jumped into the air.
"Wooo!"
But after the first rush of surprise, his expression wavered. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't quite know how.
"What?" Clark said, trying to keep it easy. "You don't want to? Miss this chance and it's gone forever."
Then he patted Eddie on the shoulder.
"Come on. Let's go pack your stuff."
The moment they stepped inside, Peter and Clark noticed how neat the house was. Books were stacked on the couch in a tidy pile. Clearly, Eddie had been studying when they rang the bell.
Following behind them, Eddie's voice shook slightly.
"Clark... I... I really don't know how to thank you guys. Uncle Ben already got me a job, and now you're letting me live with you too... I used to waste all my time. I never did anything right..."
"Whoa, stop right there." Clark grinned and cut him off. "The Eddie who worked at that garage died on that rainy night. The one standing here now is the future star photographer of the Daily Bugle. And if you really feel bad about it, then the household trash sorting and Saturday lawn duty are officially yours."
Eddie stared at him for a second.
Then his eyes turned red.
He sniffed hard, forcing the tears back, and laughed instead.
"You capitalist bastard. I knew there had to be a catch. Fine. The lawn's mine. I'll make it the best-looking lawn in the whole neighborhood."
By the time the three of them got back to the Parker house with Eddie's things, Ben and May were already waiting at the door.
"Welcome home, Eddie," Ben said, stepping forward.
He clapped Eddie on the shoulder, then handed him an old Nikon camera that looked dated but had clearly been kept in excellent condition.
"This was my partner back when I first became a reporter. It's not the newest thing around, but the lens is better than all those flashy digital toys they sell now. Starting tomorrow, I expect at least ten meaningful photos from you every day."
Eddie ran his fingers over the camera and nodded seriously.
"I swear, Uncle Ben, I won't let you down."
Peter got excited too and immediately threw an arm around Eddie's neck.
"Bro! This means we can game together at night now! I've actually been working on a mod for that old Nintendo upstairs."
"Easy, nerd, my ribs only just finished growing back!" Eddie winced, baring his teeth, but his face was lit up with a kind of happiness none of them had ever seen on him before.
Dinner ended in an incredibly warm atmosphere.
Eddie's arrival didn't make the Parker house feel crowded at all. If anything, it made it feel livelier.
After the meal, Ben dragged Eddie into the study to begin teaching him "the rules of survival for reporters," while Peter rushed upstairs to his room on the second floor.
Inside Peter's room, he locked the door this time.
Then he drew the curtains.
Ever since learning how powerful Clark really was, he'd been thinking nonstop about how to keep up with him. He admired Clark, but he didn't want to stay a hatchling hiding under his brother's wings forever.
He wanted to get stronger.
He wanted to become a real Spider-Man.
Right now, he was working on Version 2.0 of his web-shooters.
"When I fought the Green Goblin last time, the web tensile strength still wasn't enough. And it jammed too easily..."
Peter muttered to himself while carefully adjusting a gear with a pair of tweezers.
After half an hour of tinkering, he finally strapped the new launcher onto his wrist. He pressed the palm trigger to test it.
A strand of web shot out instantly, stronger than before, and stuck cleanly to the ceiling light.
"Perfect!"
Then, like every teenage boy eventually does, Peter entered full-blown dramatic hero mode.
He jumped up onto the bed, then flipped backward and stuck himself to the wall.
Climbing around like an overgrown gecko, he posed in front of the full-length mirror on his closet door, throwing what he clearly believed were cool poses but were, in reality, the kind of thing that could make a bystander curl their toes into the floor from secondhand embarrassment.
"Hey, Green Freak! Run out of gas for your glider? Want your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man to loan you some?"
Peter hung upside down from the ceiling with one hand, lowered his voice, and tried to imitate the deep, gravelly movie-hero tone.
Then he flipped down onto the floor and struck a one-knee landing pose, one hand braced against the ground in what he clearly thought was a classic heroic stance.
"That's right, ladies and gentlemen, no need to applaud. Fighting evil is just my side hobby. I'm your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."
He pointed finger-guns at his reflection and added the sound effects himself.
"Pew! Pew!"
Meanwhile, downstairs, Clark was watching TV and visibly losing the fight to keep a straight face.
His super-vision had already shown him exactly what Peter was doing, along with every mortifying line of self-dialogue.
"Oh my God..."
Clark covered his face.
His secondhand embarrassment had fully kicked in.
"Why is my brother like this? Is there any cure for terminal cringe-by-association? If I run upstairs and punch him hard enough to give him selective amnesia, is it still early enough?"