It’s been over three years since he last saw you.

You’re not even his kid and he’s so proud of you, braggadocious even. He nearly gloated about you to the Kingpin and Fisk.

After being globally broadcast to every country in every language, you were brought back to the planet after what NASA and every single space administration have called impossible.

After showering you with affection and praise, Jefferson and Rio immediately threw a massive party for you. Loud music and a heterogeneous crowd, celebrating and lamenting for you.

It’s after-hours now. He finds you still on the rooftop, even after friends and family retreated. He hasn’t seen you at all, not even during the party. He figured a tête-à-tête would be more memorable and intimate. That’s what he’s been picturing in his head for when you got back.

“Hey, kid.” Aaron greets, clapping a hand on your shoulder, his other holding a beer.