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Removing the back-breaking textbooks from his backpack, Peter shoved them into his locker. Flash running by and slamming the locker shut, Peter's sleeve stuck in the metal.
Peter sighed, tugging futilely at the now tearing fabric. He couldn't pull the latch up because the cloth was stuck in the mechanism.
"You stuck Penis Parker?" Flash taunted, yanking Peter's hood back. Peter fell back, sleeve tearing as he fell onto the cool tiles. A kick being sent to his ribs.
Flash' bullying had become physical last week when Peter had tripped over his feet and his lunch went flying onto Flash' face and homework.
Flash had clocked him in the jaw, he'd have blocked the hit but he really wasn't expecting it. His sense had flinched but the fear and anxiety had dulled it enough for him to brush it off.
Luckily it hadn't bruised until after he'd gotten home, he stayed in his room long enough for the purple skin to lose its color and return to normal.
Peter figured that day Flash had figured out he liked doing harm because Flash had been pushing, shoving, and kicking his legs out from under him since.
"Seriously Parker is the ground really that comfortable?" Another kick, Peter froze when he felt his already cracked ribs break under the assault.
Peter's head fell back, a gasp escaping him, but apparently, Flash hadn't heard the break and kept kicking. His senses were in overload, the buzzing in his pocket seemingly making his body shake further.
He hadn't remembered it was not Happy picking him up today, Dad was. Of course, he wasn't going to get out of the car, but he must be getting impatient waiting for Peter.
Something Peter never knew was that Tony had never felt impatient when it came to Peter. With his lifestyle when Peter took a while or didn't answer. All he felt was the worry in his old ragged heart.
When Peter didn't answer the phone, his heart hammered. As if something had gone wrong, had Peter gone on patrol? No, the suit wasn't live, and it would have alerted him.
Weighing the options Tony couldn't stop himself from parking the car and stepping inside the school. Luckily most the place had cleared out, and no one was insight.
He heard an awfully familiar whine from the hall, retreating footsteps and a short kid with spiked up hair ran straight into him.
"Holy shit it's real, he really has an internship. I'm so sorry," the kid sputtered, then stopped. "Wait, why are you here?"
More gasps sounded from the hall, and concern took over. Speeding past the greasy looking kid, finding his son on the floor holding his torso. Huffed breath's, and slight wheezing escaping his throat.
Eyes watery with unshed tears, Tony dropped to his knees.
"Peter?"
"Sir I've detected several broken ribs, and bruised organs," FRIDAY beamed from his watch. Peter squirmed, he knew how uncomfortable broken ribs were.
"Sweetheart you have to inhale fully," Tony said carefully, FRIDAY already calling their own medics to the scene. If Peter didn't inhale fully his lungs could collapse, and he wasn't going to let that happen.
Tony felt grateful his lungs hadn't been punctured, the bruised organs frightened him but as long as they weren't punctured he would be fine.
The memory of the little greasy kid apologizing came to mind, he'd also brought up Peter's internship. A failsafe set in place to keep the real truth under wraps.
Peter's most recent injuries came to mind, Happy had told him about them. Some of the bruises were in places he knew Peter could defend were, he'd feared something had been going on. This only proved it.
"That greasy looking kid do this?" Tony interrogated, and Peter nodded as he saw the familiar Avenger's medics burst in with a gurney.
"So last week when you had a bruised jaw?" Tony asked carefully, as they got him onto the gurney. Peter's eyes widened in response, he hadn't known Tony saw. Originally he hadn't, FRIDAY had shown him.
"Baby why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asked, soothing his finger's through his son's hair as he was wheeled into their own
ambulance.
"I'm sorry," Peter apologized wearily, groaning slightly as the gurney was lifted. Tony took Peter's small hand into his calloused one, pressing kisses to his forehead.
"What's his name baby?" He asked calmly, holding back rage.
Peter looked up with soft eyes, shaking his head no.
"Peter it's either you tell me his name, or I go through every person in this school until I find him," Tony warned, and Peter gave in.
"Flash Thompson," His voice still weary, as the surgeon pressed on certain parts of his side to find the correct spots.
"Thank you Peter pan," he spoke softly, pressing more kisses to his son's hair, gripping his hand a bit tighter when Peter winced in pain.
"Go to sleep Bambi, your ribs will be better when you wake up," Tony instructed. Peter nodded, letting these people help in the safety of his father's promise.
Tony stopped in front of his armor, "Well FRIDAY, Flash Thompson was it?"
FRIDAY agreed, sending up the boy's home address for her boss. The AI remembering the tone when Peter had gone out to stop the Vulture and asked about his missing band practice.
Tony entered the golden and red suit, flying away to the fancy home. Still, obviously, nothing compared to his own.
Tony bounded up the steps, suit melting into a sleek case. He knocked once, loudly. Clearing his throat, as he waited.
"Hello, Mr. Thompson was it?" Tony asked as the greasy kid opened the door.
He nodded quickly, wearily.
"Is..."
"No, you don't get to talk or ask about him. If you even so much as go near my kid ever again you won't be getting any scholarships or even acceptance letters to anything less than a community college. And that's not all. If you so much as look in his general direction. Well getting any job without a high school diploma is rather hard, I'd love to see how well you do without it," Tony threatened.
The kid's eyes were wide, filled with tears as he nodded.
"Good. Now let's just keep this conversation between you and I. Yeah?"
Flash nodded harder then, and Tony gave a malicious smile before turning suavely; the pure picture of power as he strode down the steps. Armor hugging to his skin as he flew home to his son.
Peter was resting quietly in Tony's bed when he returned home. He smiled fondly, reminiscing about all the times Peter slept in his bed when he was younger. Recently when Peter had nightmares or had gotten hurt, he crawled in during the middle of the night for comfort.
The bed dipped as he sat, the suit sitting in its case beside the bed. A calloused and rough hand reached out,cupping his sons face. Those soft tired eyes opening wearily to look back up at him.
"Is he the only one?" Tony asked gently, Peter sighed, "Yeah, no one else really does anything. Other than back Flash up, but the hitting was new. No one else did anything but him."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner darling?" He prodded, lifting the cover to snuggle in too. Peter situated gently under his chin.
"There are far more important things for you to be dealing with," Peter shyly explained.
"Peter," Tony sighed, lifting Peter's face to look into his eyes.
"You are the most important thing in my life, I'll call a bullying rally for your school. Call some people," Tony explained, and Peter shyly nodded.
"Thank you, dad," He whispered, hiding beneath the inventor's chin once more.
"You're welcome sweetheart, and if someone gives you any trouble kick their ass."
Peter laughed painfully, but it was genuine.