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Flash Thompson was not known to be an observing person. People liked to believe he had his head shoved so far up his own ass, he could see his own face. And, for the most part, he couldn't really blame them. It was a well planned facade, put in place for his own protection—his own reputation.
But that didn’t mean that he didn’t see anything.
Quite the contrary. Because they never expected him to take notice, his peers often let their guards down around him. He knew that Trey Walker and Lindsey Hilton hooked up last weekend at his party. But Trey’s girlfriend, Amelia, had no idea about it. And he knew that Abe’s sister was causing a rift between his parents. His dad was far more traditional, and his mother was a new age believer.
And Peter Parker was always busted up in one way or another.
And it continued to blow Flash’s mind each time. Sure, he had been rough on the teenager, often harassing the curly haired boy until they were both red in the face. But he had never officially laid a hand in the teenager. And he was sure that if he really was Tony Stark’s intern, then the man would have picked up on something. He wouldn’t have let Peter go home to whomever gave him the shiner he was sporting today.
“Hey Penis, land on a table this morning?” Flash sneered. His upper lip curled in mocking disgust. Peter glanced up, his lips pursing as his fingers moved to ghost over the bruise. Flash didn’t miss the flinch, and soft hiss that escaped his lips.
“Back off,” Peter huffed, dropping his hand to his side. It gripped at a spot on his hoodie, just above his hip. There was a twitch to his shoulders that didn’t sit well with the other teen. “Not today, okay?”
Any other day, any other body language, and Flash wouldn’t have listened. But by now, he’s learned to read everyone’s actions—both conscious and subconscious. He knew the look of overwhelming anxiety; of the panic that had settled across doe brown eyes for just a fleeting second.
Peter Parker needed help.
“Pete!” Ned—Peter’s best friend pushed through the crowded halls. “You..what are you doing here man?! Mr. Stark is going to—“ He yelped as Peter pinched the back of his arm. “Ow man, what the hell?” Peter nudged him towards Flash. He was sending the bulkier boy a warning. And Ned just barely picked up on it, turning to face their high school nemesis.
“What do you want, Flash?” Ned frowned, immediately stepping between the two.
“I wanted to know how the fight went between Peter and the table.” Flash shrugged, easily slipping into the stuck up persona. “I mean, obviously, whatever piece of particle board he picked whooped him pretty good.” He waves his arm over animatedly towards the taller boy.
Peter flinched away from the action. His hand gripping tighter at the spot above his hip.
“Can it, Eugene.” A new, smooth, and powerful voice cut through the hall chatter like a damn knife. Flash turned, staring and swallowing as their classmates parted automatically for Michelle Jones. “If I hear one more insult, that's considered bullying. And I would be bound as captain of AcaDeca to report it.” Her brown eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. “You wouldn’t want to be suspended from Nationals, would you?”
Flash’s jaw clacked shut so hard, he was almost positive he had chipped a tooth. Less time involved in his extracurriculars, meant more time at home. Not an idea Flash was particularly excited about.
“That’s what I thought.”
The trio walked away, leaving him to be absorbed into the crowd—he was just another fish in the sea.
And so his day went as usual. He made it through his four morning classes, lunch, and his free period.
By the time Gym rolled around—his favorite class because he could pour all the tension in his body into whatever sport they were learning—Flash had learned several more secrets. He now knew that Mary Tomlinson was head over heels for Andrea Burns. And that Brad was failing his second period science class. He overheard that Mr. Harrington apparently had a date.
And he could see that Peter Parker was struggling. Sweat had built up on his brow, and he seemed to hobble instead of stride. A sickly pallor had taken him over, replacing whatever flush color typically painted his cheeks. How he hadn’t passed out yet, Flash had no clue. He looked ready to keel over on the spot.
“If you’re sick, you should go home.” Flash frowned, stepping up to his locker. He had just finished changing into his Gym uniform.
“Huh?” Peter’s head jerked up—eyes unfocused as he turned to look at Flash.
“I said—“
“I know what you said,” Peter grunted leaning down to untie his shoe. A los whine escaped the back of his throat as he angled himself so that he was bent further on one side of his torso than the other. “I’m not sick.”
“Seriously?” Flash slammed his locker shut. The resounding bang caused Peter to jump in surprise. “Because no offense Parker,” Flash glanced around the nearly empty locker room. He didn’t want to make a scene that would harm his preposterous reputation. Luckily, the few people that were there had settled in the corner farthest from the two boys. “You look ready to keel over.” He narrowed his eyes, pausing in his movements until the other two finished and left.
Peter glanced around, his shoulders relaxing minutely.
“I’m fine Flash, really.”
“I really don’t believe that. You should go to the nurse.” Flash crossed his arms over his chest, self consciously. It wasn’t often he got to interact with Peter without being a total D-hole. And when he did get to interact with him normally, Flash usually made a fool of himself. After all, there was a lot that Peter had that left Flash feeling jealous and angry.
Like a loving Aunt for starters. He at least had someone waiting at home for him with open arms anytime he walked in through the front door. For Flash, it was a rare sight to walk through his front door and find his mother even sober enough to stand up from the couch.
“Why do you care?” Peter managed to drag a shaky hand through his hair. The sweat that had simply beaded his forehead was beginning to run down his face.
Flash paused, watching the green creep up his peer’s neck. Why did he care?
“Because,” Flash stepped back, moving to grab one of the garbage cans located in random areas of the locker room. His brain struggled to find an excuse—something to say so he kept his reputation intact. It came up empty. “Here.” He thrust the can between Parker’s knees, only moments before the boy was doubling over and vomiting into it. “Jesus.” Flash whispered moving to grab Peter’s curls away from his face.
“Peter?” Leed’s voice whispered from the door. “You in here?” He rounded the corner, eyes bulging out of his head as another gurgle worked its way up from his best friend. “Oh shit, man.” He rushed over, feet plodding heavily against the ground. “You’re really sick.”
“He needs to go to the nurse.”
“No,” Peter groaned leaning further into himself. “No nurse. Not gonna be able to help.”
“Well you can’t do anything in the shape you’re in. Where’s your phone? I’ll call May.” Flash held his hand out towards the brunette. He ignored the momentary flash of surprise that graced Ned’s features.
It seems that everyone forgot that Peter and Flash had once been best buddies. They grew up in the same apartment building—he had been there when Peter found out his parents weren’t ever coming home. But then his parents had graduated and gotten very well paying jobs. Flash had to move to a new area with a richer school. To them, he was their Peter Parker—the overly smart nerd that came up from nothing. So he recreated himself—he built Flash Thompson an asshole that seemed to keep his friends close.
“No,” Peter shook his head pitifully. “S’out of town. Travel nursing.”
Flash inhaled deeply.
“Okay, so who are you staying with right now, then?” His jaw clenched tightly.
“Uh...no one?” Peter swallowed thickly, listing heavily to his left. A flicker of pain darted across his face.
“Dude,” Ned frowned, pushing his best friend's shoulder in an attempt to get him to lay down. “You should call Tony, or Pepper. Or Rhodey. One of them.” Flash narrowed his eyes at the larger boy. Now was not the time for them to be worried about Parker’s fake internship.
“Someone he really knows, Ned.” Flash hissed dragging a hand down his face.
“He does know them!” Ned snapped, glaring daggers at the other teenager. “Why are you even here Flash?”
“Because he’s throwing up? And looks like he’s getting ready to keel over.” Flash frowned. “Besides, mom was a doctor, remember?” He grabbed his sweater from his backpack folding it up into a bundle before pushing it under Peter’s head for a pillow.
“Oh,” Ned paused watching. He had forgotten their history together. Flash, to Ned, had up and disappeared and turned into a total ass. “Right...then—“ The conversation was interrupted by a buzzing from Parker’s wrist.
“Kid,” A scary familiar voice echoed through the room. “Friday says your vitals are a little haywire. And you haven’t answered a text.” A little hologram of the Tony Stark popped up. “Ew, really underoos? Locker room shot? Everyone is dressed right?”
Ned jumped, wrapping his hand around Pete’s wrist, turning his watch so it faced him.
“Mr. Stark! Peter needs you to come pick him up!”
Below him, Peter groaned allowing his free arm to flop over his eyes. The movement caused his shirt to ride up just enough to show off the red scabby area just above his hip. Flash tensed; he had seen his mother studying the type of infection that could cause a fever, vomiting, and whatever else Peter could be feeling right now.
“Shit,” Flash swallowed, shaking Peter’s shoulder. “When did you get that injury?” Parker frowned, straining to sit up against Ned’s hand. “No, stay down. Ned get a teacher. Have them call emergency services. Parker,” He looked down at the cautious brown eyes. “How old is it?”
“How old is what? Where did Ted go?” Stark frowned, leaning closer to his program. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m...I’m Eugene sir.” Flash tugged the hem of Peter’s shirt up frowning at the wound. “A stab wound? Really Parker? Your aunt is a nurse!” To his side, Flash heard Tony snort. “You got a scholarship to a fucking STEM school, and think its smart to leave this?”
“Join the club, kid.” Tony frowned. His hands clacked against different panels as his hologram pulled up different screens. “Friday, why wasn’t that reported?”
“No,” Peter groaned a bit, moving to push Flash’s hands away. “‘m fine.”
“Don’t lie to me, Parker. This is infected as fu-..er as sin?”
“Don’t worry about my little ears.” Tony hummed glancing up. “I’m sending a medical suit. What does it look like, kid? I can alert my medical team.”
“Could just be a bad bacterial infection, could be septicemia.” Flash swallowed looking down. “I’ll be right back, Parker. Do NOT move.” Flash narrowed his eyes in warning. Peter simply grunted, and held up a shaky thumb. He wasn’t going to be going anywhere at the current moment.
Comfortable enough that Pete wasn’t going to stand up and rush out on him, Flash snatched paper towels from the dispenser. He turned on the faucet, testing the water for lukewarm temperature before soaking the papers. It would sting like a bitch, but at least it would start disinfecting the wound—and give Flash a chance to see just how bad the injury was.
“You still with me Parker?” Flash glanced over his shoulder. The brunette’s eyes were closed, a green tinge still easing its way up. But his chest was rising and falling.
“Thompson! Parker!” The door slammed open, knocking against the brick wall before bouncing back. Flash narrowed his eyes at the coach before fully turning to find Peter struggling into a sitting position.
“Shh,” Flash hissed rushing back over to Peter. His hand rested on his shoulder, pushing him back into a resting position. “This is going to sting for a moment.”
“What’s going on?” Stark’s voice hissed from the watch. “Eugene?”
“The coach is here.” Flash reached to move Peter’s wrist across his chest.
“Leeds said emergency services were needed!” Coach Wilson stomped over to the duo and frowned at the injury. “What the hell, Parker?”
“That seems to be the consensus here.” Tony sighed. “ETA is two minutes, kid. Think you can—“ A loud groan escaped Peter’s lip as Flash pushed the paper towels onto the injury. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Deep breaths, Parker. Don’t pass out on me. I put a cleaning compress on, Mr. Stark.”
“Blood pressure has elevated, and is currently dropping, boss.”
“Alright. Push thrusters. I want to beat Cho.I’m going to hang up now, Eugene. I think you’ve got it under control. Can you have the locker room cleared for my team?”
“Of course.” Flash nodded. “Ned, you stay. Everyone else needs to get out.” Flash stood up, moving to push the rest of the bystanders out of the door.
“Flash,” Ned swallowed thickly, moving to take over holding the wad of papers to Peter’s torso. “Is...Is Mr. Stark on his way?”
“Yes.” Flash nodded, dragging a hand through his hair. The tension ease, as soon as the adults left the room. “I’m going to get some new paper towels.” Ned nodded, silently turning his attention back to his best friend.
Flash busied himself—his lips drawn in a tight thin line. He checked his watch, glancing over to parker every so often. There was still a solid rise and fall to his chest.
“Pete?” Tony Stark’s voice echoed throughout the locker room. “Oh underoos,” He sighed, stepping further into the dingy area. Flash tensed, watching the man. He looked so out of place in the boy’s locker room. “Cho is almost here.” He settled beside his teenager, hands immediately moving to brush through the matted curls.
“He has a fever,” Flash whispered watching. He glances at the paper towels in his hand before holding them out. “Put that on his forehead. It’ll start cooling him down.” He nodded towards Peter. Tony’s jaw clenched, his hand not moving from his boy’s hair. It was no secret that Tony Stark did not like being handed things.
“I-i got it,” Ned muttered, grabbing the towels quickly from the other teen. “Er, thanks.”
“Right,” Tony nodded, looking Flash up and down. A realization settled over the man's face, followed by slight confusion. “Thank you.”
Flash nodded, his hands shoving themselves into his pocket. He turned on the ball of his feet, and headed towards the door. He wasn’t exactly needed anymore, and besides, he had a reputation to uphold.
Because Flash Thompson wasn’t supposed to be observing.