Work Text
Peter groaned as the room suddenly brightened around him. He tuned out F.R.I.D.A.Y. listing stuff such as the weather and pulled his pillow over his head. He was not ready to get up yet. Ten minutes later, he'd stumbled through his morning routine. He almost put his t-shirt on backwards (and inside-out) in his still half-asleep state. He grabbed his backpack from the floor and shoved his homework in it, then clipped his SI pass to the front of his shirt. Happy would get upset if he saw that it wasn't there, even though Peter didn't strictly need the pass for F.R.I.D.A.Y. to recognize him. Happy got upset even if Mr. Stark wasn't wearing his badge. (Mr. Stark never wore it, anyway. That was probably the reason why he never wore it, if Peter was being honest). He walked out of his room (well, the room that he slept in when he stayed at the tower) and headed towards the kitchen. Nobody was in there other than F.R.I.D.A.Y., if she counted. Peter didn't count her, since she was in every single room in the tower (and, at the same time, in none of them).Mr. Stark typically took longer than Peter to wake up (if he even slept, that is). Ms. Pepper was out of town (and that meant that she couldn't force him to sleep like she normally did). He poured himself a bowl of cereal, then sat down at the kitchen counter. It was sleek and looked expensive, just like everything else in the tower. He was still eating when Mr. Stark walked into the room, blinking sleep out of his eyes. He looked like a member of the Walking Dead. “Morning, Mr. Stark!” Peter managed around a spoonful of his breakfast. He almost knocked over his glass of orange juice when he went to wave. “Morning, kid.” Mr. Stark replied. “Did you get all of your—” he yawned, then continued. “—All of your homework done yet?” “Yeah! Well, except for my Spanish homework, but that's due tomorrow, so I should be fine. There isn't too much, and I'm going to try to finish it at lunch.” “Okay, kid, just make sure that you finish it or your aunt will be upset with me.” “I will, Mr. Stark!” Peter promised, putting his dishes in the sink and walking over to the elevator. He felt bad for not having time to clean them. Aunt May would kill him if she saw him being such a poor guest. "And make sure that you have time to actually eat at lunch," Mr. Stark added, swinging around a spoon that he'd grabbed for emphasis. "I will, don't worry!" Peter called behind him. "See you on Wednesday!” He pressed the button that sent the elevator to the first floor, then disappeared. “See you, kid.” Tony replied to closed doors, then grabbed a less sugary cereal from the cupboard. As he poured it into a bowl, he heard a voice behind him.He almost spilled the cereal all over the counter. “Who's that?” “Who's who?” He asked Natasha. “I didn't see anybody.” “Tony, I'm not stupid. That kid that just left, after eating…” She squinted at the box that was left on the counter. “Corn flakes.” “Oh!” Tony replied, as if he'd just forgotten something. “You mean Peter.” “Yes, who is he?” “My intern,” Tony replied. “He’s a sweet kid.” “You have an intern." Natasha didn't sound convinced. "Yes; several, in fact." "An intern who's a kid." "Well, he's technically a teenager, since he's 15, and in a school for science and technology." "An intern who eats breakfast here, in your personal suite , before going to school. Did I mention that he's a kid?” “Yes. What's your point?” “The amount of interns that Stark Industries has is less than 50, and they're all college graduates. This is a child, not a genius.” “First of all, you're wrong. Second of all, those two aren't mutually exclusive, especially in his case.” “Who is he? Do you have a son that we didn't know about?” “No!" Tony dropped his spoon. "He's just a super smart, super sweet kid.” “...Fine,” Natasha relented. “How'd you meet him?” “I saw a video of something that he made on YouTube and was curious. So I tracked him down and offered him an internship. He accepted.” “Okay, but why was he up here? You barely allowed me up here, and you've known me for years.” “Natasha, you're an assassin. He's just a kid.” “...Touché.” “Not everybody was as lethal as you were at that age. He wouldn't hurt a fly.” Tony paused. "And I didn't let you up here, you broke in." "...True."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Peter got to first period right when the bell rang, so he got a nasty look from his teacher. It wasn't his fault; there was traffic! There definitely weren't several dogs going for a walk. Nope. He realized that he still had his SI badge on his shirt, so he took it off and shoved it in the front pocket of his backpack. “Hey,” Ned pushed his chair closer to where Peter's was while the teacher was writing the outcome on board. “Hey,” Peter whispered back. “How was your internship?” Ned asked, sounding excited. He loved to hear about Peter's internship—whether he was out as Spider-Man or he was just helping fix something for SI. “It was good. Mr. Stark had me working on—” “Still going with that?” Flash interrupted. “Everybody knows that you're lying, Parker. Well, almost everybody .” Flash sent Ned a meaningful look. “Just give it up, already.” Peter opened his mouth to snap at Flash when Mr. Harrington interrupted them. “Mr. Thompson, please sit down.” “Sorry, Mr. Harrington.” Flash glared at Peter as if it was his fault that he'd gotten in trouble, then walked back to his seat. He hadn't even actually gotten written up or anything, so Peter didn't see the big deal. Flash used almost every excuse possible to be mean to Peter and, by extension, Ned. “Sorry, Mr. Harrington.” “Today we're working on imaginary numbers. Open your notebooks to the table of contents.” Mr. Harrington instructed. “Put ‘Imaginary Numbers’ and today's date on the next line, then open to page 18.” “Hey, do you have a pencil? I only have a pen.” Peter asked Ned. “Yeah, sure.” Ned handed him a regular No. 2 pencil. It was one of the yellow ones with the green metal that had a really good eraser. Peter cheered internally. Those were the best. “Thanks, Ned.” Peter opened his notebook to the table of contents. It was… a disaster, to say the least. He'd crossed out stuff a dozen times and written the correct thing next to it, since he normally only had pen. “No problem.” “So, what is an imaginary number? Anybody?” Mr. Harrington asked. “The square root of a negative number!” Flash shouted, almost as if he was eager to redeem himself for getting scolded two minutes prior. “Sort of, yes. The exact definition of an imaginary number is ‘a number that is expressed in terms of the square root of a negative number.’ Please write that down.” “On the next line, put a cursive i on the outside margin. Next to it, write ‘the exponent that represents imaginary numbers, which can be occasionally substituted for a cursive j .’ “Next, make a chart with 4 columns and 2 rows. On one side, put i, i ^2, i ^3, and i ^4. Next to i, write ‘ √-1.’ Can anybody tell me what i ^2 is? No? Peter, what about you?” “Oh, it's -1. Since a square root squared is just the number inside of the square root.” Peter answered, distracted. He already knew all of this from that one summer where he'd gone through old textbooks. They reminded him of his dad, and Uncle Ben had been away for a week. Even with Aunt May, he'd felt lonely. (He'd gone through his father's college textbooks after Ben passed away. It was the only thing that could keep him distracted). “Correct. Now, Does anybody want to guess i ^3?” “Ooh, ooh, pick me!” Flash yelled. “Yes, Flash?” “It's also -1, because when you square one, you get itself.” He exclaimed, full of himself. “Incorrect. Ned?” “It's -i.” Flash shot a scathing look at Ned. Ned ignored him. “Yes. Now, i^4 is 1. Can anybody tell me why?” “-1×-1 is 1.” Abraham answered. “When you multiply a negative by a negative, it cancels out, and i^2 is -1.” “Correct, Abraham. This pattern repeats itself every four powers. Now let's do some practice below.” “This is so easy,” Peter complained. “I guess. What's 26 divided by 4?” Ned replied, still working on his practice sheet. “Um… five?” Peter guessed. “Wait, that's not right. Let me check my calculator.” Peter typed the numbers into his graphing calculator, then tried to remember what .5 meant in the context of the problem. “Oh, it's 6 remainder 2.” “Yes, so easy that you need a calculator.” Ned teased. “It's not my fault I can't do simple division!” “Sure, Peter.” “Hey!” Later, when they were walking to lunch, Peter groaned. “I left your pencil in Mr. Harrington’s!” He'd used a pen in second period, so he hadn't realized. “Oh, it's fine. Honest. I have about fifty pencils.” “No, I feel bad. I'm going to run back there and get it.” “It's fine—” Ned assured Peter, then realized that he was talking to air. He sighed, then turned to continue towards the cafeteria. There was no point in trying to argue with Peter once he'd made a decision. “Excuse me? Mr. Harrington?” Peter asked, awkwardly standing in the doorway. “Yes?” “I seem to have forgotten a pencil here. Have you seen one?” “No, but you can look around if you want to.” Peter sighed. It was probably going to take a while if it had fallen onto the floor—even after only two classes, papers were scattered across the tile. It took him five minutes to find the pencil. He'd found 4 others, but they were the crappy ones that had erasers that drew instead of erased. “Thanks!” Peter told Mr. Harrington once he'd found it. Mr. Harrington just nodded absently. “Got it,” Peter announced when he sat down next to Ned with his lunch tray. By the time that he had gotten out of the line with his food, there were only ten more minutes of lunch. “I told you, you didn't have to—” Ned sighed. “I felt bad!” Peter argued. “I borrowed something from you and then I lost it, and it's a really good pencil!” Ned shook his head, then took another bite of his school-made pizza. He knew it was a worthless cause to argue about this. Peter barely managed to eat his food by the time that the bell rang. When he got home, he passed out on his bed. He did have two days to do all of his homework, since he had an A/B day schedule. He was exhausted from staying up late last night, trying to improve the tensile strength of his webs. (“In case something like the boat happens again,” he’d said. “Something like that better not happen again.” Mr. Stark had replied. “...Hypothetically, of course.” Peter had added. Mr. Stark had not been impressed. He'd kept a close eye on Peter the entire night.) Most of the time he did actual intern stuff at SI, but yesterday Mr. Stark had told him to run wild. He'd gotten a bit distracted and ended up falling asleep at around 4am. Mr. Stark had still been working when Peter left the lab. When Peter woke up from his nap, Aunt May had just gotten home. He yawned and walked into the kitchen to greet her, then helped her with the takeout that she'd gotten. “How was school?” “It was good! We started working on imaginary numbers in Algebra, which is easy enough. I didn't get too much homework—just study packets for small quizzes next class so that the teachers know that we understood what we were taught.” “That's good,” May replied with a tired smile. “How was work?” Peter inquired. After dinner, Peter took out his homework and set it on his desk. Then he put on his suit and ducked out the window, yelling to Aunt May, “I'm going out!” “Stay safe and get back before 11,” was her reply. She'd been upset at first, especially because he hadn't told her and had been wearing “practically a onesie” but she'd finally let him go out again. It had taken a lot of persuading. There wasn't too much to do that night—small crime in Queens had lessened since they found out that they had a superhero among them. That wasn't saying that there wasn't any crime at all, it was just the more foolish people (or those who were more desperate and had no choice. They were usually trying to get into prison, if only to have a warm meal and a bed for the night). He'd grown in popularity, so he had to be more careful putting on and taking off his suit. On weekends, he stayed out until the witching hour to ensure that nobody followed him, but he still had to be careful. He'd even created a twitter just for Spider-Man, which was extremely popular. He mostly just posted photos of the skyline from angles that nobody else could manage, but people still flocked to it anyway. He also posted selfies that he took with people he'd saved from muggers. Those were even more popular than the gorgeous photos of the skyline. (Sometimes, on the rare occasion that somebody dangerous escaped him, he posted their discription so that people knew to avoid them). By the time he got home, he wasn't too exhausted so he decided to get a head start on his homework. He got caught up, then realized that it was 5 AM. He sighed and put all of his homework in his backpack, and then he realized that he'd completely forgotten to do his Spanish homework since he normally would have done it the night before. It was just translating a list of nouns that were new for the current topic, and he already knew most of it, but his brain was functioning poorly due to sleep deprivation. By the time that he'd finished, it was time to start getting ready for school. Peter yawned, then started to get changed.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Peter was so tired that he didn't even stop to pet any dogs on his way to school. There were a lot of dogs. He kind of just stared at them uncomprehensibly. When he got to Spanish, Ned took one look at him and immediately went, “How much sleep did you get?" “None.” Peter answered truthfully. “I lost track of time then realized that I'd forgotten to do my Spanish homework and by that time it was already 5 AM.” “You have to take a nap during lunch,” Ned commanded. “If I have time after I eat,” Peter promised. Ned groaned, then turned to his warm up. He knew that with Peter's enhanced metabolism, he had to eat more. Peter stared blankly at the paper on his desk, the only thing written being his name and the date (which was wrong. By several years, and a couple months). Luckily, he had 20 minutes to do that day's warm up, so he managed to get at least some of it done. The rest he finished while people were sharing their answers. Thankfully, his teacher didn't call on him. In his chemistry class, which was second period, they were just doing a review. Peter sighed in relief; he could do this in his sleep (no, seriously—one time he'd fallen asleep while interning and one of the other interns had heard him mumbling it). Flash actually answered a question correctly for once, but when he turned to rub it in Peter's face, Peter was too tired to even notice. Their teacher called on Peter to answer one of the questions and he almost got it wrong (he'd thought that the teacher had said the simplified version of the equation, but he was supposed to give the full equation). Ned glanced at him, concerned, when he heard Peter stumble over and correct his answer. By the time class was over, Peter was so tired he could barely see straight. The board was definitely at least a little bit blurry. He walked into lunch and almost decided to skip eating so that he could take a nap, but with his enhanced metabolism he decided that that was a bad idea. Besides, they had lasagna today. Lasagna was his favorite, even if it was trashy school food. Since he was so tired, it took him the full half hour to eat lunch. It got so bad that MJ was glancing over at him, concern evident on her face. Maybe she thought that in his current state, he wouldn't notice her. He almost didn't. He managed to make it through the rest of the day, then started the long walk up to SI. Mr. Stark had decided to keep the tower, as nobody wanted to buy it (a not very well understood power source? a hot spot for superhuman and alien activity? no thanks). When Peter got to the tower (after getting distracted by some REALLY fluffy dogs and a huge rat that he thought was a kitten), he stumbled over to the metal detectors and walked up to the elevator. He barely even recognized F.R.I.D.A.Y. announcing him. He normally kept his stuff up in the bedroom that he stayed in. He had a tendency to forget where he had put it and there was never enough time in the morning to look for it. Even with F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s aid, it took him nearly ten minutes to find it. After putting his bag on the bed, he started looking for Mr. Stark. He wasn't in his lab, so Peter asked F.R.I.D.A.Y.
Boss is down on floor 19. He should be back up in 15 minutes. Would you like me to tell him that you are here?
“No, it's fine.” Peter replied. “Thanks, Fri!” He collapsed on the couch to wait for Mr. Stark. “So,” a voice said. Peter jumped. Even with his spidey-sense, he hadn't noticed her standing there. She was definitely a danger, considering the fact that she was an assassin. He definitely should have noticed her before she spoke. “You're the reason why he decided against moving permanently upstate.” “Um, hi Ms. Romanoff-Black Widow. I think you're mistaken. See, nobody wanted to buy the tower because they didn't understand the arc reactor. On top of that, a ton of aliens and people with vendettas against Mr. Stark are attracted to this tower.” “Who turns down free, clean energy? I don't think that's actually why, Peter. Nice to meet you, by the way. You can call me Natasha if you want.” “Okay, Ms. Romanoff-Black Widow. Um, nice to meet you. I'm Peter—wait you know that. Um, how did you know that?” “I saw you leaving yesterday morning and asked Tony about it; you're awfully young for an intern and you were on his personal floor.” “...And he said that about me?” “No,” she laughed. “Just that you were an intern here. He wouldn't tell me much else; is there anything that you want to tell me?” “Are you interrogating my intern?” The elevator doors slid open. “Nope,” Natasha replied. Mr. Stark narrowed his eyes at her. “We were just talking.” “Okay…” It didn't look like he believed her. “Anyway, kid, what did you want to do today? I've got a couple workers who are out sick on floor 48, so I'm going to join them. Do you want to come with me?” “Sure!” Peter replied. That was the floor that they were working on the Stark Phone on. The levels of the tower were set up so that smaller level projects and larger, more top secret projects were randomly placed, in case somebody tried to break in. Top secret stuff being on the top floor was only to be expected (Tony still lived at the top, though, so that he could safely land his suits and because he could protect himself, unlike the rest of the people in the tower). On top of this, everybody's badges looked identical in relation to their access (guest passes were all white, but every other pass was navy blue. Names were written in either navy or white ink, and a picture was included.) They worked until six, when they took a break for dinner. Tony had ordered shawarma—Peter had no idea what it was, exactly, but it was good . Pepper joined them, barely batting an eye at Peter's presence. She'd gotten used to him being there, and had warmed up to him (he called her Pepper, mostly to get on Mr. Stark's nerves. He was still annoyed that he hadn't gotten Peter to call him Tony yet). After dinner, they went back to work on the Stark Phones until eight, which was when most of the employees went home (some stayed late, and some stayed the night in the lounges on their floor. There were several daybeds in each lounge. Even though they had generous paychecks, it was easier to just stay there. Those that had houses before getting a job there mostly rented them out. Others just had a ton of work piling up). After eight, they went down to Mr. Stark's personal lab, which was built underground so that trespassers couldn't steal the dangerous technology. They worked on their respective gear until nine, when Peter stopped working on his suit for a minute to lay his head down, and ended up passing out from exhaustion (Mr. Stark carried him up to his bed, and would have gone back downstairs if Pepper hadn't caught him. He sighed and went to sleep around eleven, after talking to Pepper about her day). (Peter woke up very disoriented the next morning, having no idea how he got up to bed).
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Hi Ms. Romanoff-Black Widow!” Peter said as soon as she walked into the room. “Hi, Peter.” “Do you want some cereal?” He offered her the box of corn flakes. “No, thanks. I'm about to go train and it's a better idea to do it on an empty stomach.” “Okay! Have fun!” “Thanks,” she smiled wryly. “Have a great day at school.” “Thanks! You too—I mean, um—” “Thanks.” She said softly, then walked out of the room. “Morning, Peter.” Mr. Stark said around ten minutes later. “Hi, Mr. Stark! How did you sleep?” “Pretty well. Pepper made me go to bed by 11, so I actually got some sleep for once. I've been up for a couple hours, though.” “That's good! Do you by any chance know what happened last night? I can't really remember anything after 8.” “You fell asleep,” Mr. Stark replied, a small smile on his face. “I carried you upstairs because it looked like you needed sleep and I didn't want to wake you up.” “Oh!” Peter said, turning bright red. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. You could have woken me up, though, honestly. It's fine. Um, I'm really sorry for falling asleep on you.” “It's fine, kid. Did you get all of your homework done?” “Yeah, I didn't get too much yesterday. I woke up kind of early so I just did it then.” “That's good. Can't have your aunt yelling at me,” he joked. They ate in companionable silence until Peter had to leave. Tony smiled in response to his goodbye. “Hey, Ned!” Peter said, walking into Algebra. “Did you get that new Lego kit yesterday?” “I did!!” Ned exclaimed. “I'm so excited!! Do you want to come over tonight to build it with me?” “Sure, I can't wait!” “What, you're that excited about Legos? ” Flash snorted. “You aren't kindergartners, anymore.” "What, you're still that into bullying people?" Michelle snorted. "You aren't a kindergartner, anymore." Ned and Peter looked at her gratefully and she rolled her eyes. “Okay, class. We have a ton to do today, so please sit down and get your notebooks out. I know that we just learned something new last class, but we have to learn about exponent rules before Monday.” By second period, Peter's hyperness had worn off. Getting a lot more sleep than usual was just as bad as getting not enough, it seemed. “I want… to go home…” Peter sighed. “I feel you, man.” Ned replied. “So…tired…” “Same.” Peter huffed out a sigh, then stared blankly at his paper. At lunch, he picked at his weird not-quite-a-taco with a fork, then eventually decided that he should probably eat it. MJ greeted them with a “Hey, losers,” then sat down and buried her face in a book. Peter pulled out his phone and texted May,
Can I go to Ned's after school?
Not today.
Can you go tmrw?
But he got that new lego thing!!!
Please May???
I need your help grocery shopping.
And cooking.
Sorry, Peter.
read 12:01 pm “Aunt May won't let me come over tonight,” Peter sighed. “I'm sorry, Ned. You can build it without me.” “No way, man!” Ned argued. “We always build them together!” “I know, but you've been looking forward to this for ages. It's fine, honestly.” “If you're certain…” Ned relented. “I am.” Peter confirmed. “You should build it today.” “Okay…” Ned said, and they finished lunch in silence. Peter trudged home, only perking back up when he ran into a REALLY fluffy golden retriever. He got a ton of kisses!!! “I'm home,” Peter announced, throwing his backpack on the floor next to the couch. When he didn't get a response, he repeated himself. “May?” He wandered into her room, and saw the light on. “May? Where are—” he cut himself off when he noticed that she was laying on the bed. “May, come on,” he said, shaking her gently. “We have to go to the store, remember?” “Huh? Peter? Oh my, is it 3 already?” May blinked sleep out of her eyes, then yawned. “I didn't mean to fall asleep, sorry.” “It's fine.” Peter said. They made their way to the grocery store in silence, Peter staring at the ground and wishing he was with Ned. He was more of a Star Trek fan than a Star Wars fan, but he still enjoyed seeing the joy in his friend's eyes when he was geeking out, and he still enjoyed building the sets. Despite being dragged along to every movie, he only knew half of the characters’ names and could barely recite the plot. Somehow, Ned had no idea that he wasn't that big of a Star Wars fan. When they got into the store, May and Peter separated to get what they needed. Peter headed to the back of the store to grab his half of the list, while May stayed in the front. The door jangled to announce somebody's presence, and Peter glanced down at his list. He stared at it for a minute before he was able to read the first item, and scratched his nose before he started to collect the items. Once he had grabbed the items that he needed, he walked up to May and put them in her basket. “Oh! I forgot to put broccoli on the list,” May exclaimed. “Can you go grab it?” “Sure,” Peter said, dashing back to the vegetable section. He scratched at the back of his neck then started walking back up to the front. Suddenly he realized why his neck was so itchy—the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up—and he glanced up. But it was too late, much too late. A gunshot cracked through the air and Peter felt his ears pop.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Peter froze. His mind was going a hundred miles an hour in circles, going from maybe it was my imagination to May's dead she's dead to it's my fault I'm supposed to protect people I'm literally the superhero here. Then he saw the burglar. The man was pointing the gun at the cashier's face. “When I say ‘Give me the money,’ I want you to give me the money. I won't ask again. Give it to me now, or I'll shoot everybody else in here.” He couldn't see Aunt May from where he was standing, and he hoped that she was safe. Hiding, or something. The cashier opened the cash register with unsteady hands, and pulled out the bills. When he tried to grab the coins, he dropped them and they scattered over the floor. “Pick them up!” The robber snapped. The cashier dropped onto the tile and started collecting them. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled, shaking as he grabbed the last coin and tried to stand up. “And don't even think about pressing the silent alarm.” The man growled, grabbing the money then shooting the camera. He shoved his gun into his waistband then walked out of the store. Peter suddenly unfroze and ran to the front, where Aunt May had been. He almost slipped in a pile of blood he hadn't noticed, and bit back bile. He almost felt bad for praying that it wasn't May's. “May?” He crept around the puddle and into the next aisle, where a streak of blood had led. He almost fell to his knees when he saw her. She was leaning up against cans of peas, and her hand was laying loosely on her stomach. Her clothes were soaked with blood. “May!” He pressed his fingers against her jugular, but couldn't feel a pulse. “No, no, no, no.” He whispered, voice hoarse. This wasn't happening. This was just a dream. He would wake up in a few minutes and have to go to school. “Is anybody a doctor?!” Peter's voice cracked. “Please?” “No, but I'll call one,” said a man who was holding his arm. It looked like it had been cut on something. “Thank you,” Peter whispered, tears clouding his eyes. She would be okay. He would wake up in a couple seconds, and May would be in the kitchen, eating breakfast. “She saved me,” the man told him. “What do you mean?” “He was going to shoot me,” He confesses. “She pushed me out of the way, so he shot her instead.” “...It's your fault she got shot?” Alarm crossed over the man's face. “No, of course not! I was just saying that-” “You're saying that if you hadn't been in the way, she would be okay right now. I heard you. You just said that she got shot because of you. It's your fault.” The man paled. “No, that's not what I meant-” “How could—” “Kid,” A hand grabbed Peter's arm and pulled him back. Peter almost fought out of the grasp until he realized whose hand it was. “Mr. Stark, what are you—what are you doing here?” Peter blinked tears out of his eyes, looking up at him in confusion. “I saw the news. I needed to make sure that you were okay.” He replied simply. “I don't—” Peter began. All he wanted was to throw his arms around Mr. Stark and make the world disappear it had to go it had to end it needed to be over—but no, he had to be strong. “You didn't have to.” “No,” Mr. Stark said. “But you need me right now.” “Help,” Peter whispered, throwing his arms around him. “I know, kid.” Peter hovered anxiously as the paramedics arrived. They had found a pulse, which calmed Peter down immensely. He must have put his hand on the wrong part of her neck, or just not felt it through his panic. He rode with them in the ambulance, and told Mr. Stark that he was fine on his own (Mr. Stark only left after Peter had promised to call him. Peter was surprised that Mr. Stark hadn't insisted on staying longer, considering the fact that Peter could barely form a sentence). The waiting room had stark white walls, and the bright fluorescent lights hurt his eyes. People spoke in hushed whispers all around him, but it sounded really loud. He felt nauseous, so he sat down in one of the chairs. He gripped the wooden armrest so tightly that it splintered slightly in his hands. The next couple hours passed in a blur. The doctors came out and told him that she wouldn't wake up, but there was still some brain activity. She'd lost a lot of blood. They asked him if he had anybody to stay with until (if) she woke up, and he nodded numbly. When he finished giving them legal information, they told him to go home and that they would call him if anything changed. The next thing Peter knew, he was at the doors to SI. He pushed them open and walked through the metal detectors, then over to the elevator. His security badge was at the apartment, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. let him in, anyway. She recognized him and the badge was just to appease Happy, anyway. Tony was waiting for him outside of the elevator, and Peter threw his arms around him. “I'm scared, Tony.” He mumbled. “She hasn't woken up and—I'm scared.” “It'll be okay, kid.” “What's wrong?” Natasha walked into the room. Peter stiffened. It wasn't that he didn't trust Nat, and it wasn't that he didn't like her—he did, she was incredibly sweet every time that he'd spoken to her—but he wasn't in a mood to talk about it. He wasn't really in the mood to be around people, either, despite the fact that he really wanted a hug. He gently pulled out of Tony's grasp and stumbled over to his room. His mouth tasted like metal, and it took him a second to realize why. He'd bit his tongue. Once his door was shut, Peter nearly collapsed. He heard Tony explaining what had happened to May, then turned towards his bed. He buried himself in his blankets, and dug his fingernails so deeply into his arms that he was sure he would have scars.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Peter skipped dinner that night, and he decided to go to bed early. The next morning, he woke up at 4:37 AM. He ran out of Stark Industries and went straight to the hospital. He didn't say goodbye to anybody, and he barely remembered to put shoes on. They didn't have an update on May's condition. He sat by her bedside feeling nauseous. He pulled out his phone and read the news, thinking that he could at least give her some company. There were stories about coma victims knowing what was happening around them while they were in their coma.
WHERE WAS SPIDER-MAN?
WOMAN SHOT IN ROBBERY, IN CRITICAL CONDITION.
QUEENS’ HERO HAS FAILED.
The headlines screamed out at him and he almost dropped his phone. It was his fault. He'd been right there. He could have stopped it. He could have saved her. It was his fault that he hadn't been able to fight him. He's been too angry at her to notice that his spidey-sense was going off. He'd known that she wanted to get broccoli. Why hadn't he grabbed it? Just because it wasn't on the list? It was all his fault. Not the man that she'd pushed out of the way's. Not, heaven forbid, hers. It was his. Peter's. He couldn't breathe. It wasn't like he deserved to, though. It was his fault that May was hurt. It was his fault that May was dying. His phone fell on the ground as he ran from the room. He pushed pass people to get out of the hospital, and everybody glared at him. “Look where you're going,” one person snapped. He couldn't even think straight enough to apologize. He just had to get away. He didn't deserve to be near May. She probably blamed him, anyway. She'd be so much happier without him there. She wouldn't admit it, she was too good to do that, but she would be secretly ecstatic that he'd left. He knew it. He managed to get out of the hospital without too many people yelling at him, but couldn't remember how to get back home. He stumbled around the city, trying to find familiar streets. He suddenly felt the urge to throw up, so he ducked into an alleyway. When he finished heaving up what remained of yesterday's lunch, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up, unsteady. A man was staring at him, a knife in his hand. Peter stumbled back, and the man followed him. “Get—get back,” Peter warned. “Give me your money, kid. I don't want to hurt you, but I will.” “I don't have any.” Peter tripped over an empty cardboard box and fell to the ground. “Sure you do,” the man said, pointing his blade at Peter's throat. “Every kid at least has a phone. And you have nice clothes.” “I don't, I swear—” Peter clumsily pushed himself backwards. “Kid, stop lying. Just give me your money and you'll be on your way.” “I don't have any,” Peter screamed, and pushed the man's hand away. He climbed to his feet and held his arms out in a sloppy defensive position. "Get away from me.” “Make me.” Was the man's response. Peter walked backwards to get away from him, and the man cornered him. He could have sworn that this alley wasn't a dead end. He glanced behind him, looking for something to grab onto. There was a windowsill a couple feet above his head. Peter jumped up and grabbed onto it. He could have effortlessly jumped higher than that, but it was suspicious enough as it was. He gripped the edge of it, then pulled himself up. The man reached for his ankle just as he pulled it out of reach. Peter kicked at him and heard swearing in response. He climbed up the building, then disappeared onto the rooftops. He knew where he was now; he was near some restaurant called Hell's Kitchen. He never ate there, but he came here on patrol every now and then. He made his way back to his apartment and grabbed his backpack. Then he headed to school, hoping it would distract him everything that happened. Maybe if he did everything that he was supposed to, May would be okay. “Dude, are you okay?” Ned asked him. “You look like crap. Did you get any sleep last night?” “Yeah, I got… I went to bed at like 8. I woke up at 4ish.” Peter threw his backpack on the ground and got his pen out. He filled his name in on his warm up, his hand shaking. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. He needed to calm down. He was the first one to finish the problems, so he started doodling on the margins of his notebook. The images were mostly broccoli, but some were dark alleyways. The pen nearly ripped the paper. “Dude!” Ned moved his chair closer to Peter. “Are you excited to go to your internship tonight?” “I… I'm not doing it tonight.” “What?” Ned's response was immediate, and Peter could hear the shock evident in his voice. “Why not? Did he get mad at you?” “No,” Peter replied. He grabbed a stack of papers from the kid in front of him, took one for himself and one for Ned, then passed it behind them. “I'm just not feeling that great.” “Are you…sick?” Ned started working on the class work. “I thought that couldn't happen anymore, after… you know.” “I don't know,” Peter said. He wasn't exactly lying. He didn't know if he could get sick anymore. He hadn't been at all since the spider bite. He didn't want to worry Ned. He'd figure something out. May would be okay. It would be pointless to worry Ned over nothing, right? “Parker can't get sick? Ha! He misses school half the time.” Flash leaned over to their desks. “What else would he be doing? It's not like either of you have lives.” “Leave Ned alone,” Peter glared at Flash. Flash opened his mouth to reply when the teacher snapped at him. “Mr. Thompson, this is an individual activity.” “Sorry.” Peter barely made it through second period. He couldn't stop thinking about May, and he needed to throw up again. He spent all of lunch in the bathroom. Once school ended, Peter ran back to his house. He threw his backpack in the corner of his room, collapsed onto the floor, and started crying. It wasn't fair. He'd done all of his work. He'd done what he was supposed to. Why didn't that make up for one minute of error yesterday? Why wasn't May okay? He pulled himself up onto his bed and stared blankly at the wall. He blinked when he heard knocking on the door. He slowly untangled himself from the bedsheets and opened it. Mr. Stark was standing there. “Hi.” Peter's throat hurt from a mix between hardly using it, crying, and throwing up. “Why aren't you at the tower, kid? I've been calling you.” Peter felt his pockets, then remembered the morning's events. “I… lost my phone.” “But why didn't you come over? I don't want you to be alone right now.” “I'm fine.” Peter said. “I don't want to bother you.” “Bother me? Kid, I want to help you. Your aunt just got shot.” Peter flinched at the mention of May. “Sorry,” Mr. Stark added. “I'm fine,” Peter repeated. “When's the last time that you ate?” Peter didn't meet Mr. Stark's eyes. “Yesterday? You didn't have dinner. And you didn't eat breakfast today. That's at least three meals if you didn't have lunch.” “I couldn't even keep it down, what's the point?” “Not even a tiny bit of food? Soup? Crackers?” “...Fine.” Pepper made some soup for dinner. He was pretty sure that it wasn't what they were planning to eat, and the guilt of changing that rubbed at him. He managed to eat it all, but when they went into their separate rooms for the night, Peter threw it all back up.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Why is everybody looking at you like that?” “Like what?” Peter kept his eyes on his algebra warm up, not looking at Ned. He'd run out of the tower before Tony could persuade him to eat breakfast. He wasn't in the mood to throw up again. “I don't know… it's like they're sorry for you? Even Flash isn't bothering you.” Ned pointed out. “Huh.” Peter continued graphing his polynomial equation, considering the conversation over. “Seriously, dude, are you okay?” “I'm fine, Ned.” “You were like this yesterday, too. You didn't even notice that it was a Thursday when I asked if you were going to your internship. You only go to SI on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and every other weekend.” “Your warm up should be completed alone, in silence.” The teacher hinted, and Peter silently thanked him. Ned sent him questioning gazes for the rest of the class. Peter ignored him. By second period, it seemed like Ned had forgotten all about it. At lunch, it became evident that he hadn't. “Seriously, Peter, what's wrong? You aren't eating, and you always eat. Especially because… you know.” “You don't know?” MJ interrupted. Peter froze, then tried to warn her with his eyes. “Huh.” Peter exhaled a breath of relief, then sucked it back in as she asked him, “How's your Aunt doing?” “What do you mean, how's May doing?” Ned asked MJ. Peter snuck away from the table while they were both distracted. He hid in the bathroom for the rest of lunch, throwing up what little he had in his stomach. It was mostly bile, and a tiny bit of water he'd drank in an effort to calm himself (it had failed to help). His phone buzzed several times, and when he looked at it, it was a series of texts from Ned and MJ.
Ned
???
Why didn't you tell me???
Peter???
Where are you???
Are you okay???
I didn't want to worry you.
She'll probably be fine, anyway.
MJ
Why didn't you tell Ned?
You know that he doesn't read the news.
You're the one who doesn't let him.
Have you seen what they're saying?
He knows that it isn't your fault, Peter.
I could have done something more.
This is exactly what happened to my uncle.
I was right there.
I did nothing.
You were you supposed to know?
Newspapers are just looking for more readers.
It isn't your fault.
Isn't it?
I could have stopped it.
I didn't.
And now she's dying.
Peter…
Peter shut off his phone and wiped bile off of his mouth. His vision blurred a little bit as he stood up, so he grabbed onto the sink for support. When he felt balanced, he grabbed his backpack and headed to class. He beat the rest of his classmates there, so he managed to finish his warm up early. Ned ignored him. MJ looked like she was drawing both of them until he sent a glare at her. She sighed and put her sketchbook away.
MJ
Look…
I'm sorry for telling him.
But he needed to know.
He's your best friend.
You can't keep something like that from him.
It wasn't up to you.
Wasn't it?
The whole school knew.
Except him.
It's better that he knows from earlier on.
He'll forgive you sooner.
Especially if you apologize.
And you know he won't judge you for not being able to help.
I don't feel like talking about it.
“Phones away, please.” The teacher, Mrs. Kulmu, glared at Peter. His phone buzzed as soon as he put it in his pocket. There was a series of alerts, around 5 or 6. Mrs. Kulmu narrowed her eyes at him then returned to the lesson. The rest of the class, the rest of the day, passed in a blur. He collected class work, completed it, and turned it back in without paying any attention. He didn't even notice when his teacher handed him a paper he had to give back on Monday. He just placed it his backpack and turned back to his work.
MJ
You have to get that permission slip signed.
read 3:17 pm ••• The weekend passed in a blur. He had Pepper sign his permission slip without him even reading what it was. She was his third guardian, after Tony, and her name was less recognized.
MJ
It's signed.
Good.
Don't miss school on Monday or next Thursday.
Thursday?
What do you mean?
Did you even read the paper?
I think so
Maybe
Probably not
Peter spent the majority of Saturday in the training room. He needed a way to get rid of his pent-up energy and anger. It was good to feel something, even if he was only feeling pain. He didn't notice a woman's figure watching him train against things that even Captain America wouldn't have been able to fight. He didn't even notice how hard he was pushing himself. (He nearly broke his fists on the punching bags, but he couldn't even feel the black and purple bruises). That night, he was finally hungry again. He threw up after dinner, anyway, because he ate too much (even if it was less than a fifth of what he normally ate). The next morning, he ate some cereal for breakfast. Just plain cereal, no milk. He didn't throw that up (but he threw up after lunch). He fell asleep around 6 pm, his body not used to a lack of nutrition. When Tony woke him up for dinner, Peter didn't notice the concerned glances that he and Pepper were sending his way. He didn't eat everything on his plate, but he didn't throw up that night. On Monday night, the hospital called. May had woken up for a minute, then fallen asleep permanently. He broke Tony's phone by accident. Little by little, the past few days came back to him. He'd made a million small mistakes in all of his classwork. His homework had been mediocre at best. Ned hadn't made an effort to talk to him; MJ had sent worried glances in his direction. And the paper he'd turned in had been a permission slip for a field trip. To Stark Insdustries. Peter groaned and buried his face in his pillow.
Pepper
Did you tell Tony about the field trip?
No.
Okay.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Ned
sorry
it's fine
youve been through a lot
and i havent been that great either
i still should have told you
i just
didnt want to bother you
and i thought that she would be fine
sort of
i hoped she would be fine
past tense?
yeah
the hospital called me monday
wait when the heck did i get my phone back
i swear i left it in her room
oh well
dude im so sorry
is there anything i can do to help
no
i kind of already mourned for her
i'm sort of numb?
not as much as i have been
i miss her but
in a way i knew this was coming
oh
do you have the funeral planned or anything
oh yeah
that exists
not yet
do you need somewhere to stay
you can stay at my house
no
im with mr stark
since i have a bedroom there anyway
ohmygod thats so cool!!!!
i mean
not the circumstances but
you know what i mean
yeah
i get it
pepper's really nice too
and i think nat sort of likes me?
she keeps “running into me”
nat?
wait
oh my god
oh
my
god
natasha romanoff???
yeah
im worried that she'll find out abt the thing tho
she is a spy
and she can sneak up on me
its probably fine
it isnt like shed do smth to hurt you
especially not now
since shes living at si
i guess
im just worried
bc she did team up with cap in berlin :///
well they are friends
all of them were
i guess that youre right.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They held her funeral on Saturday. Tony offered to pay for it, but Peter declined. She’d had money set aside for emergencies, and it was just enough to cover for this along with the hospital bills (because wasn't this an emergency? And besides, Tony would be paying for him for a while. He lived with him now, after all). Tony hadn't come, though. He knew that May hadn't liked him that much, and he didn't want to draw attention away from her (he gathered a crowd wherever he went: the grocery store, the street, fancy restaurants that were supposed to keep out fans). A few of her coworkers had shown up, as well as the old lady that lived downstairs (below his old apartment) (it was weird that he didn't live there anymore; the lawyer Tony had hired had separated the belongings according to her will, and once they cleared out the apartment it was put on the market). Ned and MJ had come, too. It was nice seeing them there. It wasn't nice seeing their tear-stained faces (even MJ's face was covered in dried salt). Peter stood awkwardly to the side, then ran into Ned's arms. It was a hug long overdue. All three of them started to cry again. He hugged MJ, too. Their tears soaked each other's clothes. There were mini broccoli quiches being served. It sent Peter on a long train of thought that ended with him almost throwing up. He probably still had her blood on the shoes that he had been wearing (they were thrown somewhere in his closet at Stark Industries). People came up to him and kept apologizing. By the time the last person came up to him, he felt like screaming. It wasn't like it was their fault, and they just didn't get it. May was all that he had had. Sure, he was with Tony and Pepper now, but it wasn't like they knew him as well as May had. Besides, Tony was probably only a temporary solution. The billionaire had a lot more stuff to do than take care of a teenager, even if he already hung out with him on a near-daily basis. It was doubtful that the government would let him stay with Tony, anyway. He was a hot-spot for terrorists and superhumans. They'd just shove him in a crowded foster home because nobody wanted the teenagers. They'd shove him in a house that he was way worse off in, and never think twice about it. They probably wouldn't even ask him what he wanted. He definitely preferred the idea of alien attacks over domestic abuse. At least he could defend himself from aliens. He couldn't fight back against a regular person, or he'd hurt them. Even if they were somebody horrible, he didn't want to hurt (kill) anybody. After the funeral, Ned had to go home to help cook dinner, and MJ had to help with her neighbor's kids (she always watched them when her neighbors went out for a date. They hardly ever had free time, so they were eternally grateful. Besides, MJ was great with kids). Happy picked Peter up after everybody had left. They drove back to Stark Industries in silence. Once Peter got up to his room, he let himself cry (again). Dinner was eaten in silence, and the lights were low. The bustle of the tower had been missing that day, too. It was as if everybody at Stark Industries was in mourning.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sunday morning, Peter had a small bowl of Cheerios with banana slices on it for breakfast (he poured the milk on top of the cereal, of course). He didn't really like bananas unless they were with Cheerios. He wasn't sure why. Tony didn't show up within half an hour, so Peter took that to mean that he was in his personal lab. Most of the time, employees didn’t come in on weekends until it was at least 10. Peter was pretty sure that Tony was working on making mini arc reactors for his Stark phones. He hadn't managed to find out how to create it on such a tiny scale yet. Peter would have gone to help him out, but he felt twitchy, so he decided to go down to the training room instead. He only managed to get his energy out for about five minutes before he had to stop because, of course, Peter was the luckiest soul in the universe. Nat walked into the training room. He almost hadn't noticed her at first—she could be quiet when she wanted to be (although he wasn't sure why she wanted to be quiet. It wasn't like there was anybody worth spying on in the room, unless you counted him, which he didn't). He immediately started pulling his punches and moving slower. He stopped to get water a little bit later, and pretended that he hadn't noticed her yet. Peter watched Nat out of the corner of his eye, and saw her stretching. She glanced in his direction, so he turned and waved at her. “Hey, Nat!” “Do you want to practice with me?” Her voice carried through the gym and into the locker area (on weekdays the gym was open to Stark Industries employees who were on their break or after hours). “Sure!” Peter set his water bottle down, then jogged into the gym. “What do you want to do?” “Do you want to spar? Knowing self-defense is always a good thing.” He hesitated upon hearing her offer, then agreed. He was going to be bored to death with her in there. He got into a fighting position, trying to mirror Nat's. She stood up straighter for a second and corrected his pose slightly, then went back to how she had been seconds before. “Ready?” “Sure.” Peter was going to have to go easy on her. He wasn't sure if he would win if he used his abilities to the fullest or not, as she had been fighting for years, but she would definitely notice if he was a lot stronger than an average teenager. At least he could get the technique down, even if he would have to somehow try to adapt it to his actual skill level later. She had him pinned to the ground within seconds. “Stop pulling your punches.” “I—what?” “Stop going easy. You need to practice, and being soft during training won't help you in the real world, even if you have super strength and inhuman reflexes.” Peter felt the blood drain from his face and scooted backwards. “I don't—” He cut himself off when he saw the look on her face. She was unimpressed with his lying abilities. It wasn't like he normally had to lie to spies, anyway. Just teenagers who hardly paid attention to anything other than their phones. “I saw you when you were training the other day. It's fine, I won't tell anybody else. I'm assuming that Tony knows, considering Berlin?” “Uh—you're not mad?” “No, why would I be? I'm not mad at Tony, and his brain is fully developed. You're still a teenager.” Peter opened his mouth to argue, then nodded mutely. After a second, he added, “So does Pepper. And Happy, and my au—and my friend Ned. I think this girl from school knows but I'm not sure because she hasn't said anything about it.” “Okay. Anyway, get back into the position I showed you.” She cracked a smile. “And actually try this time.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“So, Parker,” Flash said, moving his chair so that it was next to Peter. “Are you nervous for when I can finally prove to everybody that you're lying?” “Not really.” Peter didn't even bother to look up at Flash. He snorted. “Yeah, right. I could hear you talking to Ned about how you're not at all looking forwards to this field trip.” Peter rolled his eyes. “I'm more worried for how you'll react when you figure out that I'm telling the truth.” “You? Telling the truth?” Flash laughed. “In your dreams, Parker.” He leaned forward and whispered into Peter's ear, “And even if, somehow, you're telling the truth…it's a charity case. We all know how poor your grades are.” Peter's pencil snapped in his hand and he heard Flash cackling. He bit back the urge to argue back—it would just make the situation worse, and he couldn't say anything that would get to Flash, anyway. It wasn't like his grades were that great, at that moment. He'd barely put any effort forth after… what happened with May that his grades had dropped dramatically. Even though he'd redone as much as he could, there wasn't a lot he could do to fix his grades. He'd known all of the information, but he hadn't paid enough attention to actually answer the questions. He hadn't tried hard enough to actually write the essays to his fullest ability. He couldn't redo everything. “What did he say?” Ned asked. Peter just shook his head and got out a new pencil. It wasn't worth it.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
On Thursday, Peter was almost late to school. He'd been worrying about the trip until nearly 4AM, and he had to wake up at 5 in order to get to school on time. Long story short, he's overslept (Tony had realized that he wasn't in the kitchen like normal and woken him up. He only had 5 minutes to get ready). Ned looked relieved upon seeing Peter, but Flash just sneered. “I thought you'd chickened out, but I guess you're not too worried about how everybody will know that you're lying.” “I'm not lying, Flash.” Peter walked onto the bus and headed to the back. He was getting tired of Flash's constant bullying. It wasn't even that Flash didn't believe him—it was that he constantly had to tell Peter this, and that was always laughing at Peter. If you thought somebody was lying to get attention, why would you give it to them? Ned tried to get on after him, but Flash pushed past him. “Sure you're not,” Flash said. “I can't wait to see how Tony Stark reacts when he figures out that you of all people have been lying about having an internship there. They only have qualified interns. That means not teenagers, especially people like you.” “'People like me?'” Peter snorted. “What on Earth is that supposed to mean?” “Fools.” Flash's arrogance leaks into his voice. “Idiots. Your weighted GPA is barely a 3.9 right now, AND you're in all AP classes. That's the equivalent of a 2.9 if you were in standard classes.” Peter froze, then retorted, “Well if my GPA being that low right now after… everything that's happened, yours must barely be a 3.0 considering that you're only a backup on the Decathlon team and I'm a full member.” How did Flash even know his GPA in the first place? Flash opened his mouth to reply, but got cut off by the teacher walking onto the bus. “Please take a seat, we have to leave…” Mrs. Kulmu looked at her watch. “Three minutes ago to get there on time.” Flash sat down in the closest empty seat and Ned moved to sit near Peter. “You okay?” he whispered. Peter nodded, then realized that he had crescent shaped marks in the palms of his hands. He forced himself to relax and settled down to talk to Ned about Star Wars. They played a guessing game where you had to find out which character the other person was talking about. Ned won. When the bus pulled to a stop twenty minutes later, Flash sent a wicked grin in Peter's direction. He tried to ignore the tangle of anxiety in his chest as his class poured out of the bus and ogled the skyscraper. He tried to ignore the dread pooling in his stomach as they followed Mrs. Kulmu through the glass doors and up to the reception desk. (He failed).
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Peter clung closely to Ned as Mrs. Kulmu spoke to the receptionist. Flash kept sending smirks at him. The class was chattering excitedly. “You're with Midtown?” The receptionist asked. “Yes, we're Mrs. Kulmu's class.” “Okay, can you just sign this paper while I grab your badges and get a tour guide?” “Of course,” Mrs. Kulmu grabbed a pen out of the jar on the desk, then started flipping through the small stack of papers. Ned was abnormally quiet, and it took Peter a second to realize why. He was staring at two people who had just walked into the lobby. “Hey, Peter.” Pepper and Nat said, almost simultaneously. “Um, hi, what are you guys doing down here?” “Oh, we were just going to go get a coffee and wish you luck.” “Luck? What do you—oh no.” If Tony had figured out about the trip, Peter was screwed. If F.R.I.D.A.Y. let Tony know he had arrived, he was screwed. Pepper smiled sympathetically, then followed Nat out of the glass doors. Peter stared helplessly after her as his class whispered to each other. “How'd you get her to pretend to know you?” Flash grabbed Peter's arm in a bruising grip. “There's no way you paid her, so what did you do? Give… favors to certain people?” It took Peter a couple seconds to realize what Flash was insinuating, and when he did, he flinched. “Ew, no. She wasn't pretending, anyway.” “Sure, Parker. I'm watching you.” Peter rolled his eyes and stepped away from Flash. Who would even go to such great lengths to lie to somebody? And for what? Attention? He wasn't even the person who advertised his internship—he only mentioned it when he had to. Flash was the one who brought attention to it. “Okay, Midtown.” A tour guide had arrived. Peter recognized her face, but hadn't ever talked to her. “My name is Kithri, and I'm going to be your guide today. The first thing that we're going to do is hand out badges. You must keep these visible at all times. If you don't have your badge visible, I'm afraid that you'll have to be escorted from the premises." She looked down at her clipboard and started calling out names, giving out the badges accordingly. When she got to the last names that started with a P, she stumbled then skipped over Peter. Flash noticed, and narrowed his eyes at Peter. “Miss Kithri?” he asked. “Peter didn't get a badge. Does that mean he can't come on the tour?” “It says that he's an intern here—is that right Peter? You're a lot younger than most of the interns.” Peter felt his face flame, and mumbled a yes. “Okay, so you have your badge?” She didn't wait for him to reply, just moved on. Peter didn't have his badge, he'd left it upstairs that morning. He was eternally grateful that she hadn't given him time to answer. “There are two different types of passes—workers and guests. Worker badges are darker, like this.” Kithri shoved the class her navy badge. “Guest badges look like yours—white. This is a security measure, so that nobody knows how much access a certain pass has, and it's harder to know which badge to take to break in.” Kithri paused and led them over to the metal detectors. “Every badge is personalized for each worker. Scan your badge here and then walk through the metal detectors, please. If you have a bag, place it here.” Peter stood awkwardly to the side as his class went through the metal detectors. He could hear F.R.I.D.A.Y. calling their names and saying “Guest” after each of them. He rushed through after Ned, hoping nobody would notice that he didn't scan a badge before F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced his name. "Your badges are coded to only be accepted if it is with my badge, so they won't work after this tour. If you ever wish to come again, you need to bring this badge—unless your legal name has changed—and it will be recoded to whichever tour guide you have and the time slot for your tour." Kithri led them to an elevator, scanning her badge before the doors could open. “We're going to tour a few lower level labs before lunch. The first lab is developing a ring that can extend into a phone. Since it's so small, it's a delicate process so please, don't touch anything.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
After lunch, which was in the cafeteria on the ground level, they headed towards one of the training rooms. Peter hadn't been in this one before; it was open to workers of all levels and he couldn't risk somebody finding out who he really was. It was extremely difficult to hold himself back, and completely pointless. He couldn't train if he couldn't use his full abilities. It was identical to the one he normally went to other than the door, which had a keypad. F.R.I.D.A.Y. regulated who went in and out of the other one. “So,” Kithri said typing in the password then opening the door. “This is the gym. All employees and workers can access this one, and it's identical to all of the others. There are gyms spread out every 20 floors.” Kithri opened the door and gestured to the group to follow her, then took a step backwards. Natasha Romanoff was in the room. Kithri squeaked and backpedaled. “Ms. Romanoff—I didn't expect to see you here—I'm so sorry if I'm interrupting your training.” “You're not interrupting me,” Natasha promised. “I was just waiting for Steve. We were going to demonstrate a few moves for your tour.” “Oh!” Kithri cleared her throat and stepped aside so that the class could file into the gym. “We have a schedule, but there's enough free time that we can wait a little bit for Mr. Rogers.” “Does anybody want to test out the equipment while we wait for him?” Nat offered. “As long as you don't touch the weapons you should be fine, and even those are nearly harmless down here.” Peter reached up to itch his neck, then got shoved out of the way by Flash. “I would like to try something.” Nat narrowed her eyes at him when Peter stumbled. “We can have a mini contest as to who can lift the most weight.” Nat suggested, gesturing towards the five identical machines lined against the wall. “You'll have to take turns, though. And remember that lifting too much weight can hurt your muscles.” “Oh my God, Peter, this is so cool!!!” Ned whisper-screamed into his ear. “The Black Widow was waiting to show us stuff and Captain America is going to show us stuff and oh my God.” “Haha, yeah.” Peter replied. Their class separated into 5 lines—one at each weight machine. Peter and Ned hung to the back of the line—Peter was too nervous to lift more than he should be able to, and Ned wanted to be next to him. “The highest amount is 60 lbs, so far.” Natasha announced once the first group had finished. “Ha! Take that, Parker.” Flash stood up proudly. Two more students beat him, getting 70 lbs each. Soon enough, it was Peter's turn to lift weight. Natasha caught his eye, but he couldn't tell what she was trying to say. He went with “Please put this kid into place by lifting 500 lbs” and set the weight on the bar to 80 lbs. He lifted it effortlessly, and Flash made up some BS excuse that the weights were marked differently at each machine, and that he was going easy on him anyway. As if. Steve Rogers interrupted his attempt at seeming tough by walking in and asking Nat, “Is this the tour group that you were talking about?” She nodded, then asked the class to sit down on the benches along the wall. Peter subtly caught Nat's attention and they had a silent conversation.
Does he know who I am?
No, don't worry.
Okay. Thanks.
They spent 5 minutes showing different simple self-defense techniques before Kithri announced that they had to leave in order to stay on schedule. The teacher reminded them to say thank you, so they chorused their gratitude to the two Avengers. Peter waved at Nat, who winked at him. She had a smile on her face, and although he couldn't be certain what she was smiling about, she looked proud. (Later she told him that she'd been proud of the fact that he hadn't really used his powers to put Flash in his place, and had only gone a couple pounds above what he'd been able to lift. She said that she would have put the most weight she could onto the bar just to rub it into his face). He didn't notice Steve asking her about him, but it wouldn't have mattered if he had. He wasn't upset about the fight at the airport, but Nat had grown attached to Peter and wouldn't betray him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They headed to a higher-level lab after leaving the training room. This immediately worried Peter; he hung out on higher labs more often than lower ones, since he trailed behind Tony. Somebody would probably recognize him. While he wanted to prove to Flash that he wasn't lying, he didn't want his classmates to start wondering how he became Tony Stark's personal intern. If they found that out, they would push, and his secret identity might be revealed. Kithri scanned her badge on the door to the lab, then had the class scan their badges. Since it was a higher level lab, she had to override the scanner every time somebody scanned their badge. She got ready to scan her badge again after Peter let F.R.I.D.A.Y. recognize him, then frowned when she didn't have to. He was the last one to go into the lab, so she pulled him aside. “I thought you were an intern?” “I am,” Peter replied. “No interns are allowed up here—how come I didn't have to override your badge?” Peter shifted his weight to his other leg and cleared his throat. “Uh, I have special permission to come into this lab.” Kithri looked at him for a second, then shrugged and opened the door, entering the lab. One of the engineers in the room was explaining how they designed the Stark electronics so thin. Flash made his way over to Peter and snorted. “What, you get in trouble because your pass is fake?” Peter ignored him and scooted closer to Ned. Mrs. Kulmu sent a warning look in Flash's direction for talking over the engineer. He scowled and turned away from Peter. One of the workers—Stuart, or something—saw Peter and waved. He smiled back, and at Stuart's look of confusion as to why he was there, mouthed ‘Field trip.’ Stuart nodded in understanding. After a few minutes of questions, Peter noticed Kithri stiffen and look at her phone in alarm. “It seems that we have a change in schedule, so we have to cut this part of the tour short.” At Abraham's groan, she added on, “You'll enjoy what's taking place of this, don't worry.” Then she thanked her coworkers and led the class back to the elevator. When they entered the elevator it was empty, which was good considering how many of them were there. It didn't stay that way, though. The elevator stopped on floor seventy and Pepper walked in. Peter sent her a ‘Save me’ look, and she smiled. ‘Sorry, Peter.’ She mouthed, then turned to her phone.
I did wish you luck.
You know how he is, though.
He's proud of you.
Don't forget that F.R.I.D.A.Y. tells him about everything that happens in the tower.
oh no
please tell me he's not going to try to embarrass flash
he really doesn't bother me i swear
I’ll talk to him.
thank you so much i love you
“Peter, can you please get off of your phone?” Mrs. Kulmu asked. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. My—uh, my guardian was texting me.” Pepper bit her lip to contain her laughter, then exited the elevator. As soon as Peter entered the next room, he knew that Ned was going to freak out. Standing in the center of the room was Tony Stark. He met Peter's eye and winked. Peter hid behind his best friend, who hadn't yet noticed Tony. “Okay,” Kithri said. “You guys have a special meet and greet with Tony Stark! Please sit down in these chairs and then we can get started.” The kids filed into their seats in record time, and Tony smiled diplomatically. “Hello, Midtown.” Ned was staring at Tony in a state of shock, and so were a few other kids. “You have…” Tony checked his watch. “Twenty more minutes on your tour, so I'll be answering your questions for that long. Who's first?” Cindy raised her hand, so he picked on her. After a few questions, Flash raised his hand, smirking at Peter. “Yes?” There was a hard edge in Tony's voice, but it wouldn't be noticeable if you didn't know him. “Do you hire high schoolers as interns?” “Not really,” Tony started. Flash threw a victorious smile in Peter's direction. “But if you are referring to Peter Parker, who I believe is in your class, then yes.” A series of emotions crossed Flash's face, and Tony moved on to the next one. Peter sighed in relief that Tony wasn't trying to embarrass him. Flash glared at Peter for the rest of the trip and the bus ride back to the school, but Peter didn't really care. It wasn't like Flash could say anything about it, anymore, when it'd been proved to be true by Tony Stark himself. All in all, the field trip was a lot better than it could have been, than he expected it to be.