Chapter Text
Peter POV
He shouldn't have done it. Peter realized that now. But Flash had just made him so angry, and Ned had looked so sad that he didn't really think about the risks. Well, he had a little bit, but clearly he'd miscalculated, which was how he had quite literally landed in front of Ned and in the process outed himself as Spider-Man.
Earlier . . .
Flash was such a jerk. Peter didn't like to hate people, but man, if he had to pick someone to hate . . . well, Flash wouldn't exactly have to interview for the position. He'd be a shoo-in for sure.
Ugh, he was so mean sometimes! And for no reason at all! It didn't make any sense to Peter. He guessed that bullying never really made much sense, but, with Flash, it really didn't make sense. Weren't bullies supposed to pick on people because they were insecure? That's what the Captain America PSAs and all those other anti-bullying propaganda they'd been fed since kindergarten seemed to preach anyway, but Flash was the exact opposite of insecure.
Described in three words, he was a rich, arrogant, asshole.
And that couldn't be an act because—besides being way too exhausting of a front to keep up if he wasn't actually confident—what did Flash have to be insecure about? Unlike Peter, Flash had a ton of friends, was charismatic—even if his charisma skills were put toward tormenting others—and from the way he raved about their opinion of him, Flash had two living parents who thought he walked on water.
Sure, Flash wasn't the smartest kid in their school, or even their class, but he was still smart enough to be at Midtown and on the Decathlon Team, so even Peter had to admit he wasn't a complete idiot. But if there was something else that made Flash behave the way he did, Peter couldn't imagine what it could be.
Usually Flash's antics didn't get to him so much because, for some reason, Flash typically limited his bullying to Peter (lucky for him), and if Peter was the target of his harassment, then at least that meant no one else was, but today, Flash had decided to pick on Ned.
And Peter wasn't 100% NOT okay with that.
It had all started when they'd been getting ready for P.E. to begin. When he was rummaging through some old boxes in the workshop after Rhodey had kindly—but firmly—told him he needed to straighten up the place before he was allowed to begin any new projects, Peter had found an old t-shirt from the infamous Stark Expo that happened to be Ned's size. Peter knew that Ned would be stoked about it because he had loved Iron Man—not as much as Peter, but well, no one loved Iron Man as much as Peter—and anytime Peter could make Ned's day a little better was a good day, because Ned made Peter's life infinitely better every day just by being his friend.
So, Peter had brought the shirt to school, and presented it to Ned in the locker room right before they had to head back into the gym with the rest of the classmates. Ironically, they were rock climbing today. It wasn't anything close to a skyscraper in height, but the school did have a small rock-climbing wall with about six different routes that graced one of the non-bleachered walls in the gym.
Obviously, Peter couldn't exactly tell Ned where he had really found the shirt, so instead, Peter told him that he had come across it on E-bay, and managed to get it for a really good deal. He didn't really think Ned bought the latter half of the lie. Over the years Ned had seemed to catch on that Peter wasn't exactly hard up for money, but the important thing was that Ned didn't guess the true origin of the shirt. And he didn't, which was great because Ned was just as elated as Peter expected him to be about the gift, and he would have remained so . . . if not for Flash.
"Hey, Nerd, what've you got there?" asked Flash snatching the shirt out of Ned's hands and holding it up.
"Hey, Flash." said Ned with a lot less enthusiasm than he had shown moments ago, but even Flash couldn't completely dampen Ned's excitement, not yet anyway. "Peter got it for me. It's an original Stark Expo t-shirt from the one where—"
Flash snorted holding up the garment in front of him. "This is a shirt? Are you sure it's not a tent?"
Ned flushed. Ned wasn't that self-conscious about his weight. Honestly, he tended to have more confidence than Peter, and Lord knows he was way more mindful about what he ate than Peter was, even before the Spider bite, but it didn't take a mind-reader to know that Flash's comment had hurt all the same.
"Shut-up Flash. And give it back." Peter demanded making to grab it from Flash's hands, but Flash quickly pulled it out of reach. Of course, Peter could have been quicker and gotten it back from Flash by way of force, but he didn't. He couldn't. Because right now, Peter wasn't Spider-Man.
He wasn't even Peter Stark.
He was just puny Peter Parker.
"Actually, I think I'll hang onto it Penis. It does look legit, even if it is a tent."
"Flash—" Peter growled angrily, but then Coach Wilson blew his whistle signaling the start of class, and Flash took off with the t-shirt, and despite its size, managing to roll it up enough to tuck it semi-securely into the pocket of his hoodie, while Peter and Ned reluctantly followed.
After that, they'd muddled through gym class, much less cheerfully than normal, which was saying something because neither of them much liked P.E. Well, Peter didn't mind it that much anymore. Now that he could do most exercise without even breaking a sweat and run a mile without taking desperate breaths into his inhaler.
But Ned . . . Ned, was still not a fan, and Peter was stuck pretending he could still barely make it halfway up the wall. So yep; not everything had changed since he decided to moonlight as a vigilante.
Peter tried to cheer Ned up throughout class, saying that they could break into Flash's locker later and steal the shirt back, or god forbid, if worst came to worst they could involve a teacher, but Ned had repeated over and over again not to worry about it. He said if they stole it back Flash would just retaliate by picking on Peter more than usual, and if they involved a teacher, then Flash would somehow manage to blame Peter for something to get him in trouble too. Peter said he didn't care, but in the end it didn't matter because when Flash was on his last climb of the day and Coach Wilson had stepped out to help some kid who had gotten a small (but bloody) cut on his finger from one the harness clips, Flash had whistled to get their attention and then, with both of them watching, he'd tossed the shirt up into the ceiling rafters were it joined quite possibly years' worth of lost volleyballs, Frisbees, and other crap that kids had somehow managed to hurtle too high into the air, never to be retrieved.
So anyway, that was why—even though he hadn't really thought about how he would explain the shirt's sudden reappearance—Peter had hung back after class had ended and everyone, (including Mr. Wilson) had filed out, telling Ned he'd forgotten something in the locker room and that he'd just meet him in the next period. And that was why he was currently racking his brain for some excuse that would get him out of this mess, because he hadn't forgotten anything. Instead, Peter—barefoot and harness free—had scaled the rock-climbing wall, ignoring the hand holds, walked across the ceiling, grabbed the shirt and—executing a flip or two . . . or maybe three—dropped down to the floor, prize in hand, landing in expert Spidey style perfectly on his feet . . . right in front of a slack-jawed Ned.
Shit.