Chapter Text
He only realizes what he’s been doing weeks after he starts doing it. And even then, it’s only when Ned points it out.
“I think you’re jealous,” Ned jokes harmlessly, and Peter stares at him with a half-smile, which fades quickly when he realizes.
He looks away, trying to think of a reason why. Why is he out the house and why does his mind come up with the shittiest excuses to justify it?
Easy. Peter doesn’t like him very much, and that person doesn’t like Peter very much and isn’t afraid to show it. Avoiding people who don’t like you isn’t a bad thing, he thinks.
“Yeah, maybe,” he laughs anyway, and Ned doesn’t bring it up again. Maybe he senses the awkwardness, or maybe Ned sees nothing. May doesn’t either, so it’s not a big deal. But now that he’s sitting here, he kind of wishes Ned would’ve pressed it further.
He definitely won’t bring it up unprompted, which is why they continue messing around on YouTube and homework and Legos until the evening comes to an end.
“I’ll see you later,” Ned says after they finish putting things away and walk to the door.
Peter nods, giving him a small wave as he walks out.
He doesn’t want to go home. He just stands at the steps for a good few minutes, trying to think of other places he could go at eight in the evening. The options are unlimited. He could go to a café and finish homework, or patrol, or call MJ and swing around the roofs while he does.
But then May worries. And it’s what makes him turn the way to his apartment, head down and mind racing, preparing for it. May worrying too much means Max gets involved, and that’s the very thing he’s trying to avoid.
By the time he reaches, the sun is still setting, and he makes his way upstairs begrudgingly, almost all out of energy by the time he reaches the front door.
Don’t panic.
He takes out his key and pushes it in to unlock the door. He’s instantly hit with the smell of cooking. And for once, it smells not burnt.
There’s laughter coming from the kitchen, and maybe if he avoids them and walks straight—
“Peter! Come here and taste!” May yells from the distant as he takes his shoes off. He smiles and walks through, “baby, come here,” she says, and he has to try and not make eye contact with the man standing besides her.
“I just ate at Ned’s,” he tells her, “kinda full.” It’s not a lie. It’s actually the whole truth. He is full, and she makes a face when he tells her.
“Peter can try it in the morning,” Max says, and for the time being, he looks genuinely nice. “How was your day?”
Peter shrugs, “yeah, good, pretty great,” he says. “I’m gonna head to bed. Kinda tired. Sorry, May.”
“That’s okay,” May tells him, smiling as she takes out two plates. They go back to chatting, laughing and telling jokes. May isn’t the hardest person to make laugh, but Ned might be right. He feels a little jealous. This used to be their time.
He turns around and makes his way to his room. He throws his bag next to the door and closes the door, sighing as he lays back on his bed. He could go patrolling.
He really spaces out, because when he opens his eyes again, he can see Max standing at the door with his backpack in his hands. He’s zipping it open as Peter sits up. He gets up but Max shoots him a look, so he sits back down, heart thudding against his chest.
Max flips through his things, “you got your test back today. May got an email,” he says casually, and then pulls the first set of white pages he sees so hard that Peter thinks he’s ripped them. The bag falls to the ground, and he flicks through the pages. “79. You know 79 isn’t getting you into the top colleges. 79 isn’t getting you scholarships,” Max starts.
Peter keeps his head down. Nothing he says is going to make a difference. It’ll instantly be seen as a stupid “excuse” and just get him into more trouble.
Max stares at him, and Peter can feel the glare boring holes into him, “fractions. You can’t subtract fractions, Peter? Stupid. A six-year old could do this.”
Peter looks up, ashamed, “it was—I just didn’t show the working out properly so—”
“What’d I say about excuses? It’s your last year and this is what you’re doing? Let me tell you,” Max starts as he takes a seat on a chair, “the colleges aren’t going to give a shit about whether you missed a mark here and missed a mark there. What is this?”
He doesn’t look up again. He feels too humiliated. Also, he can’t tell if it’s a rhetorical question, so he keeps his mouth shut.
“To think this is what May works for. So you can run around being an idiot.”
He keeps his fists clenched so hard that he can feel the crescents he’s digging into his palms, which Max notices, because he lowers his head to see Peter’s and frowns.
“I’m sorry. Am I making you angry?”
Peter shakes his head reluctantly. God, he wants to run away.
Finally, May comes. She stands at the door with a hesitant smile plastered on her face as she observes the dead atmosphere. “What’s going on?” She asks, playful fear in her tone. “Things sound serious.”
“Peter got a seventy-nine.”
“That’s great!” May says, the tone of her voice completely out of place in the dreadful atmosphere that Max has conjured up.
“Not great enough for a scholarship or help. Just telling him to step it up,” Max tells her. “He needs to understand how competitive and serious—”
“It’s okay,” May says, kind of defensively, and she sits down next to him, putting her hand on his back. “He knows. He’ll be okay. Right, baby? Seventy-nine is amazing. I never got past the seventies, and I turned out great.”
Peter smiles as he looks to her.
But if he had to visualize how embarrassing this whole thing was, he’d say he was one step away from jumping off a building. He didn’t need her defending him, or Max berating him. Or her babying him, which he can tell right now will come up in a future one-to-one with the man.
“No, sorry,” he says anyway, “sorry, it won’t happen again,” he tells them both.
May seems unfazed by a stupid seventy-nine, like she always is every time she catches them in a conversation. That’s because she always misses the first part.
“Let’s go,” she says as she stands, nodding to Max, who gets up and leaves first. She pops her head back in and smiles, “it’s great,” she says quietly, “don’t listen to him.”
He smiles back at her. Maybe he should forge the next one, to avoid this from happening again.
He’s about to lay back down when the door opens again. He half expects it to be May, but it’s not. “And clean up this mess. God, it’s like that upper portion isn’t working nowadays,” Max scolds, a disgusted look on his face.
Peter looks down at his bag, which seems to be the only thing he can see on the floor. Then, Max is gone. He decides to leave the bag, counting on Max not returning for the night. That’s the maximum number of lectures reached for today.
When he has kids, or meets kids, he definitely won’t be like that, Peter decides. Morgan likes him. He must be better if she does. She’s too young to lie.
He lays back, staring at the ceiling. He rolls his head to the side and shoots a web to the door, bridging it to the wall. Then, he reaches in his pocket and takes out his mask.
Pulling it over his head, he closes his eyes with a sigh. “Cheer me up, Karen.”
“I can tell you a joke. Knock, knock.”
Peter frowns, “nope, please don’t,” he says jokingly.
“You seem sad.”
“I didn’t do well in my test,” Peter answers.
“You usually don’t get so upset over that,” Karen notes. “Was it a special test?”
Peter grunts, “no, but I got a special telling off this time,” he admits. He sounds like he’s whining, but he can, right? No one will ever hear this. And Karen’s the only one he can talk to.
“I’m sorry, Peter. By who?”
“Max,” Peter says in a whisper. “But he’s right. I need to get them up. My grades.”
“Then it seems like he’s only trying to encourage you,” Karen tells him energetically.
Peter doesn’t disagree. “Yeah, maybe.”