Chapter Text
He leaned his chair back in the corner of the classroom. The placement of his seating was right near the door but he had to strain his neck to see the clock in the hallway outside. If he pushed back any further there’s no doubt he’d tip and topple over, adding even more embarrassment to his already suffering street cred.
Time was passing by at an agonizingly slow pace, but Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that every tick of the clock was another year out of his lifespan. He was bouncing his leg up and down on the ball of his foot when he felt a specific pair of black converse slam onto his toes.
“AGH,” biting his lip to prevent himself from drawing attention, he turned to the left of him and glowered at the stoic girl, “what the hell, MJ?!” He whisper shouted. She simply looked up from her book at him in response, not even a twinge of remorse on her face. Heartless, as expected.
“Your constant fidgeting was distracting me,” She said, refocusing her attention to page 240 of Of Human Bondage. She always had a book with her, lord knows why no teacher ever called her out on it.
“Distracting you from what? You’re not even looking at the board!”
His complaint didn’t even elicit a response. Just as he opened his mouth he felt someone else kick his already bruised foot. Why is everyone so aggressive?
Turning around again he saw Ned giving him a look of disapproval. Is everyone against him today? Although it probably was his fault for not paying attention to Ms.Warren, talking in her class was practically suicide. Not to mention how his class participation was already on the verge of death due to his habit of zoning out. But could anyone really blame him? Every subject they've discussed this week was already reviewed by him last month during a particularly uneventful patrol. And yes, he studies when he's bored. Sue him.
“Okay, so, how do we calculate linear acceleration between points A and B?” Ms.Warren took a look around the room before pointing at someone, “Flash.” Of course.
“If the product of the sine of the angle and gravity divided by the mass,” Flash boasted, a grin etching across his face.
Wrong.“Nope.” Ms. Warren sighed, echoing his thoughts. Peter should have felt bad for smiling but after spending three years with Flash, he just couldn’t find any shame.
“Peter?” Shoot. “You still with us?” Ms. Warren asked.
Despite his best attempts, he couldn’t hold back his stuttering. “Uh... uh yeah... yeah!” He narrowed his eyes at the model on the board, “Uh... mass cancels out, so it’s just gravity times sine.” He waited with bated breath for her response. Finally, she managed a small smile, albeit a bit strained.
“Right.” Despite the validation, he could hear the slight disappointment in her voice. Perhaps she was hoping to finally catch him at the wrong moment. God, he feels terrible. “See, Flash, being the fastest isn’t always the best if you are wrong.” Eh, he could feel terrible later. Right now, he counted this as a win. That is until Flash turned to him and mouthed the words,
“You’re dead.” Shoot.
>>>>> <<<<<
Peter was already shouldering his bag when the final bell had rang. Ned promised he’d get MJ to wait for him but after Peter had dropped his papers on the ground for the third time that day, she flipped him off and left. Ned right on her heels yelling, “I’ll meet you at the gates!”
But just when Peter put his foot out the door he heard Ms. Warren call out to him. “Peter, would you mind staying back for a second?” He should have seen this coming, you don’t ignore Ms. Warren's physics lecture and expect to get away with it. Muttering a string of curses under his breath, he accepted death and sat in the chair across from her desk.
“Do you know why I asked you to stay back?” She asked. That’s when it all came pouring out.
“L-listen, I’m sorry about today. I just zoned out and I... I didn’t zone back... in...?” It came out as more of a question than an apology. She simply closed her eyes and sighed. He can’t blame her, he could be a handful.
“While I do want to discuss your unproductive habit of daydreaming in class,” Peter sunk deeper in his seat, wishing it’d swallow him whole, “that’s not why I called you here, today.” Wait, what? Before he could open his mouth she held up a finger, effectively silencing him.
“As a junior, I’m sure you’re aware of the upcoming SATs and how your performance could potentially affect what university you get into. Right?” Peter nodded in confirmation. “And while I’m not worried about your scores on this exam, I fear it may not be enough to get you accepted into your top choices.
“Ever since coming to this school, you’ve been receiving exceptional grades. Always keeping pace with the curriculum, if not surpassing it. Hell, today’s lesson was evidence enough that you don’t need to furiously take down notes to understand the material. However, it’s important to know that when it comes to your future, grades aren’t everything.
“Starting last year your record has undertaken a significant change. Unexcused absences, missing or late assignments, and even a few detentions. The most noticeable change, however, is your current lack of extracurricular activities. What happened to band and robotics? All you have down so far is the school’s decathlon team and even then you barely show up.”
He knew dropping out would come back to bite him in the butt. But what was he supposed to do? It’s not like he can just stop being Spider-Man, Queens needs him.
“Universities aren’t just looking at your GPA, Mr. Parker, they’re looking for what sets you aside from other applicants.” Ms. Warren continued, “They want to see that you’re passionate about something. That you already have a goal for your future career and you’re taking the necessary steps to achieve it.”
Well, there’s nothing he can say to that, now is there? Writing down Spider-Man on his resume will only get him brushed off as delusional. Not to mention how he can’t shoot webs for a living. What was his career gonna be? He'd like to say bioengineering but if he's stupid enough to get bitten by a radioactive spider, he should never be left alone in a lab ever again.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” wow I zoned out again, “you’re going to need to polish off your resume if you ever want to get into a prestigious school.”
Peter decided it was about time for him to speak up.
“But h-how should I do that? It’s too late in the year to join any other clubs.” He asked, feeling a tad bit hopeless. At least he did until he saw his teacher straighten up and get an excited glint in her eye. He knew that look, whatever was coming next certainly wasn’t going to be good.
“I was hoping you’d ask that.” In a split second Ms. Warren was opening her desk drawer and pulling out what had to be about thirty-something— it was 45, he later confirmed— colorful pamphlets.
His teacher, sensing his unspoken question, got right into her explanation.
“While there may not be any clubs available at school, you are certainly not limited to a brick building.” I don’t know if my fellow classmates would agree. "As the school’s career counselor, I pride myself on always being aware of the special opportunities that are available for my students. Opportunities such as internships at well-known STEM companies.” Peter vowed to never ignore Ms. Warren's speeches ever again. Taking a sudden interest in where exactly she was going with this, he straightened in his seat and gave her his full attention. She must have noticed this because he was able to catch the ghost of a smirk on her face.
“Internships at these sorts of establishments will not only provide you with something to write down for your extracurriculars, but it will also give you valuable experience in a working environment that college committees are so desperately trying to find in today’s applicants. Plus, a few of these places are offering generous pay for a loyal employee.” He didn’t try to stop the toothy grin that spread across his features, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree.
If the possibility of pimping up his application with this internship wasn’t enough, the money made it a done deal. He and May were a bit tight with money at the moment, maybe even tighter than tight, and any form of payment they could get their hands on right now would be accepted with open arms.
Ms. Warren figured at that point that no more talking was required. She handed him the entire stack of flyers and pushed him out the door, yelling a quick “Drop any applications off before next Wednesday!” on his way out.
Things might just be looking up, Peter thought as he skipped towards the school gates.
>>>>> <<<<<
Just as the cold December air hit his face, Peter felt a hand tug at his oversized jacket and turn him around, coming face to face with Ned. Oh god, Ned. While he was casually conversing with his teacher, his friend was five minutes away from going all Jack Dawson's climax scene on him. How long was he waiting here? Did he miss his ride? Was MJ also waiting for him or— yeah, no, stupid question, MJ has definitely already left.
“Peter, dude, where were you? Does it really take you that long to pick up a stack of papers?” Ned asked him, trying to cover up his poorly veiled concern with fake annoyance.
“Y-yeah, uhm, sorry about that by the way. Ms. Warren just held me back to talk for a little while and I guess I lost track of time, heh.” Peter replied, sheepishly rubbing his palm against the back of his neck. Ned didn't look satisfied.
"Well?" Ned prodded, tapping his foot in anticipation. Exactly what he even was anticipating, Peter didn't know.
"Well what?"
"You know exactly what I am asking, Peter, why did Ms. Warren make you stay late?"
Peter opened his mouth for a split second before clamming up, the familiar feeling of shame bubbling up in the pit his stomach. He wanted to tell Ned about what Ms. Warren had said to him, how his attendance was slipping, how his grades had even more mood switches than MJ, how their dream of going to MIT together and becoming roommates may just be a dream and nothing more; but he knew he couldn't. Ned knew about his alter ego- hell, he idolizes him. Ned sees Spider-Man as strong, indestructible, fearless, basically everything Peter isn't. But Ned doesn't know that. If he opened up to him about all of his struggles, Ned would never look at him the same. He would stare at Peter with that all too familiar look of pity in his eyes and all he would see is a fifteen-year-old kid who couldn't even keep his grades up or take care of himself all because his uncle was d- yeah, you get the point. So Peter would keep his head up and his mouth shut and he'll slap on his happy go lucky personality even if it killed him. Because that's what a hero does. That's what Spider-Man does.
Peter smiled, slightly rubbing his eyes to make that stupid tingling feeling he got whenever he lied go away, "She just wanted to show me some possible internship programs I could apply for, might give me some valuable work experience. But between you and me I think she just wanted me to try and doze off during work and get fired." Ned let out an ugly snort at that, trying to poorly cover it with a cough. He didn't suspect anything, good.
"I expected nothing less, daydreaming in chemistry is a death sentence, dude," Ned lightly hit his shoulder and eyed the colorful pamphlets in his hand, "But seriously, though, what kind of internships are in that little stack of yours."
"Oh, I uh... I actually haven't even checked yet, heh." Peter said, sheepishly rubbing his neck.
"Well what are you waiting for?! We gotta narrow down the choices at some point. Something related to engineering, chemistry, business-"
"Aren't they all technically business?"
"But do they all pay?" Peter fell silent, "Yeah, that's what I thought."
Ned took the pamphlets out of his hand and fanned them out for both of them to see, beginning to read out his options as they made their way to Delmar's.
"Let's see, we got Alchemex," Peter immediately interjected.
"Never heard of 'em."
"Daily Bugle,"
"Gross." Ned nodded his head in agreement. The company's slander of Spider-Man was just plain rude. And Peter took personal offense to that for reasons he legally can't explain.
"Wayne Industries and OsCorp."
"First of all, the one in Gotham City? The commute isn't worth it," Peter kicked the pebbles he came across on the sidewalk and ignored the fact that he could easily swing to both places, "Second, I don't even think I'm allowed back at OsCorp. Not that I'd want to go back in the first place. You know, traumatic spider memories and everything."
Peter didn't think the company would want him back after he stomped on their million-dollar creation while screaming like a toddler. It's pretty funny when you think about it, Spider-Man having arachnophobia.
"Anything else?" Peter pressed
"Well there's one for Hammer Industries, but ew, another one for Delmar's, which was an unexpected plot twist for world-616, and..." Ned lifted the last pamphlet, then squinted, a look of confusion passing over his face until finally settling on unbridled excitement.
"Ned? What is it?" Ned let out a shaky breath and tossed him the pamphlet. Peter's eyes roamed around the text until finally, he saw it.
Stark Industries September Foundation Grant
Individual internship spots now available for high school applicants
Peter stopped walking, and no it wasn't just because it was a stoplight. If he listened really closely, his spidey senses could pick up faint theme song music playing in the background. Like that moment in the early 2000's coming of age movie where the protagonist's life stopped being crappy for a split second. Could he really do this? Does he actually have a shot at nagging his dream job and working in the same building as his childhood hero? Ned's chattering snapped him back into reality.
"This is the opportunity of a lifetime, man!" Ned all but squealed, "Please tell me you're going to apply. Oh god, who am I kidding, of course you are! And before you say anything, just know that if you don't apply I will steal your identity and apply for you." As one does.
"Ned, calm down," Peter chuckled at his friend's antics, "I'd be an idiot not to. Besides, Tony Stark is anything but cheap. He probably pays his interns double the minimum wage in this country just to make a statement. And in case you haven't noticed, Aunt May and I aren't exactly in a position to turn down money." His light-hearted tone didn't match his words, and Peter cursed at himself for making things weird again. He's got to stop doing this. Luckily, neither of them were forced to try and break the awkward silence, as they had reached the destination of their favorite sandwich shop.
Before they parted ways, Ned turned to him and said, "Just make sure you apply to other corporations outside of SI. I know this company is paradise to us nerds-"
"I prefer the word 'geek'" Peter interrupted, silently toning down the snark as Ned shot him a glare.
"but the pamphlet says that all interns have to be personally approved by Tony himself. And after obsessing over every single one of the man's interviews, I've come to the obvious conclusion that he hates kids."
Ah, now he understood. Ned wasn't the only one who used Stark's press conferences as white noise for test cramming. Every time a journalist would bring up the subject of children, and whether or not he and Ms.Potts would ever try and start a family, his face would pinch up like he just sucked on a lemon. As if the very idea of even being in the same room as a small human was so revolting it would make him physically recoil. And if Stark didn't enjoy hearing about children, Peter couldn't imagine his reaction to seeing sticky- the irony, I swear to god- teenagers running around his building and touching his coffee. Teenagers carry a lot of germs, he'll give him that. But there was always that split second before Stark would exaggerate his facial expressions that Peter would get a glimpse of the look in his eyes. They radiated some melancholy emotion that Peter couldn't even begin to comprehend. Flashing between regret, sorrow, and... he couldn't tell. Maybe he was looking too deep into it. Either way, Peter hated it, hated the way it made his whole body ache like there was something he was missing, and didn't know about all of this. He hated not knowing things. Like now, for example, he had no idea where he would apply if not Stark Industries.
"Well where else do you suggest I apply?" Peter asked, voicing his thoughts. Ned bit his nails for a minute in thought before looking back up at Peter.
"I mean... Is applying to Hammer Industries that bad?"
"Ned!" The spider child stared at his best friend with disbelief and exaggerated betrayal, bringing a hand to his heart like the words physically hurt him. Ned brought his hands up in surrender and silently pleaded with him to let him explain his reasoning, Peter reluctantly nodded.
"I know you have this vendetta against anything Justin Hammer related, given that he's not exactly on the best terms with Tony Stark, but personal grudges aside, Hammer Industries is still one of the top organizations in engineering right now. And having that on your resume would be a step up from nothing at all." Alright, so he did sort of have a point. Peter was only half listening and half mentally preparing a whole rant to shove in Ned's face but god damnit why did his friend have to be smart. Peter, albeit reluctantly, nodded his head at Ned as a silent promise to put in an application for H.I, sighing in defeat.
Ned clapped him on the shoulder with a wide grin and reached out to open the door to Delmar's, "That's the spirit! Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow at decathlon practice," he spared one more look at Peter, "and please, for the love of god, don't be late. I'm running out of excuses to give MJ. Next time you skip, she's coming for your head."
"That's a horrifying thought to have, but I'll try to be punctual. No promises, though."
"Good luck with the internships," His friend sighed, before disappearing into the shop.
Peter stood in place for a moment, wondering how he managed to score two friends- well actually one, the more stoic of the two was sort of walking the tightrope of friendship at the moment- who put up with all of his crap. His Spider-Man patrols became a priority over the last ten months, causing his social and school life to spiral in ways he would have preferred to have never happened. But then there was Ned and MJ who, whether they realized it or not, were one of the only constants in his life keeping him sane and grounded. Maybe he should cut down on patrols, show a little appreciation. He let out a huge breath of air and watched as the white fog curled up into the air, then a mischievous smirk made it's way across his face. Yes, he'd drop some spidey sessions... starting tomorrow.
Peter took a quick survey of his surroundings before breaking off into a sprint towards the back alley behind the deli, shrugging off his backpack on the way there. As soon as he was sure that the darkness was completely shadowing his existence to the outside world, he reached to the bottom and brought out his red and blue suit, changing and stuffing the school clothes in his bag once he was done. As he was checking the amount of fluid left in his web-shooters- he didn't want to fall mid-swing from a building again, one time was already too many times- his thoughts drifted to whether or not his new way of transportation was morally acceptable or not. Every time he swung back home, the subways were losing another $2.75 from their once loyal customer. And just think of all the people who didn't have access to web fluid, they could be late to work or their child's dance recital but they still waited for the train. They needed the spider powers more than him. But once again, he's looking too much into this, it's a habit he needs to kill.
Placing his fingerless gloves against the bricks of the building, he made his way up to the top, which was surprisingly high for this area of town. It was at times like these that he felt like one of those spies in an action movie, using suction gloves to scale a skyscraper. Except in his case, his suction gloves were his actual hands. And his feet. And his- yeah he's gonna end that train of thought. He put one hand right after the other, his long-sleeved blue sweater rolling down to just above his elbow. He should really invest in some clothes that actually fit his body to use for his makeshift suit. Arriving at the roof, Peter couldn't help but be in awe at the view. He'll never get used to this side of his patrols, being able to overlook the borough as the sun's rays peaked through the gaps between the buildings. He took maybe ten-twelve steps backward, shaking out his hands and torso to psyche himself up. Then, in a split second, he took off running towards the edge, spreading his arms like a pair of wings as he took a swan dive towards the ground. His spidey sense burned his neck more and more with every inch closer that he got to the concrete. He reached out his arm as he was plummeting, the inevitable pancake-like death nearer and nearer and nearer-
and then he was flying.