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“Psst.”
A finger Tapped his shoulder.
“Psst.”
“What, Ned.” Peter hissed, glancing over his shoulder to his best friend, who was jerking his thumb in the direction of the corner of the classroom.
Seeing that Mr Harrington was preoccupied with writing an equation on the bored, Peter looked to where he was pointing. Michelle Jones was giving him her signature bored expression, the one where you couldn’t really tell what she was thinking.
When she saw he was looking, Michelle held up the notebook on her desk, a small smirk on her lips. It was a drawing of Peter, his head slumped in his hands, an exaggerated grumpy expression on his face. Peter felt a rush of heat go up his neck, a little embarrassed that she had caught him looking so miserable in class, and also a little giddy at the fact she had spent the time to sketch him.
He played it off with huff of laughter, shaking his head.
“Sir, Penis - I mean Parker’s not paying attention!” Flash rushed out, pointing an accusatory finger at Peter who was twisted round in his seat. He quickly snapped his head back to the front, sending a frustrated glance to Flash, who was seated in the front row.
Mr Harrington sighed, obviously just as annoyed at Flash as Peter was. But still, he was a teacher, so had to play along. “Am I boring you, Peter?”
“N-no, uh, sorry, Sir.” Peter stuttered, his cheeks going even more red when every head turned his way.
“Then, what’s the answer?”
For a moment Peter froze, words clogging in his throat as his mind raced to complete the extensive equation. It clicked. “It’s the cube root of five over nine, to the power of ex.”
Mr Harrington blinked at him, his eyes flicking to the board and then to the answer sheet. He blew out a breath and shook his head in disbelief. “Good job, Peter.” He turned back round to the board. “Oh, and Flash? Focus on the work instead of your classmates.”
Flash’s mouth hung open in embarrassment as a few in the class chuckled, before shooting a death glare to Peter. In response, Peter just rolled his eyes.
He spared a glance back to Michelle, who smiled at him (which was a rare occurrence). She was now leaned back in her chair, notebook still in her hand. She flipped it over again, and Peter saw now that she had rubbed out the grumpy mouth, and replaced it with a smiling one, the sketch a little sloppy and out of place but it still made Peter snort.
Her previous, grumpier depiction of Peter hadn’t been far off his mood. A late patrol last night had had Peter only catching a few hours of sleep, and when he did wake up it was too a tingling sensation at the back of his neck that was keeping his senses even more heightened than usual. The anxiety hadn’t faded since he got to school, if anything it had just gotten worse as the periods passed by.
Automatically, Peter lifted a hand to rub at the sore spot when the faded tingling turned a little sharper. The muscles in his back tightened and he sat up straighter, peering around. He was in class. Why would there be danger?
“Dude, you okay?” Ned whispered, from behind him, also looking around.
Peter didn’t have time to respond, as suddenly the lockdown alarm was ringing in his ears. Students around him gasped, some standing from their chairs in fright.
Mr Harrington cursed under his breath, his eyes widening. “Everyone stay calm. I’m sure it’s just a drill. I need you all to barricade the door with the tables, and someone pull down the blinds."
There was flurry of movement and anxious whispering as everyone did as they were told.
Peter sent a quick text to Mr Stark. School has gone into lockdown. I don’t know what to do. Help, the text lacking it’s usual emojis.
“Is it a gun? Oh god, someone has a gun, haven’t they?” Ned rambled in Peter’s ear from where they were crouched together on the floor, up against the wall and below the window.
Peter was trying to keep his growing nausea at bay. Sure, he was Spider-Man, and dealt with guns more than he liked to admit, but he hadn’t been faced to face with a gun as Peter Parker since the night his Uncle died. Strangely, now he felt completely out of his depth, no clue on how to stop a potential shooter without revealing his identity.
“You think I should do something?” Peter whispered, staring at the door.
Ned gripped Peter arms, as if he was scared Peter might run off at any moment, “Are you crazy? You can’t just - just, no - “
“But you’re right, someone could have a gun. I can’t just do nothing!”
“Parker, I swear to god,” Michelle spat, “Don’t you even think about doing something stupid.” To most people, Michelle would look indifferent to the situation, even bored by it, but Peter noticed the small things. Like how she clenched and unclenched her fist repeatedly, how her gaze flicked around the space a little faster than usual, how her lips were pressed into a hard line. Even she was nervous.
Peter strained his hearing, till finally he was able to pick up something. Muffled footsteps. Heavy boots. Five of them, maybe more. Guns coking. Utility belts clanking.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Peter breathed. This wasn’t just one dude with a knife - this was something big, much more dangerous than he’d originally thought. “There’s loads of them. They’re getting closer.”
Ned’s eyes widened, while Michelle just looked confused, leaning forward. “What do you mean - how would you know?”
Oh yeah, that was another thing - Michelle didn’t know he was Spider-Man. He suspected she was suspicious, and he’d been planning to tell her, just hadn’t found the right moment.
Peter opened his mouth, but was saved by Mr Harrington, shushing the class when the frightened whispers had increased.
His phone buzzed. He opened it and saw it was from Tony. On my way. Stay where you are. Don’t do anything stupid.
Why did everyone thing he was going to do something stupid?
The footsteps were getting louder along with the buzzing at the base of his neck, and Peter felt like he was slowly suffocating. There had been no shots, no other noises that indicated people were hurt.
Flash was crying, he noticed, the boy trying to swipe the tears away before they could fall. Peter didn’t blame him and even felt a pang of sympathy. No one in his class deserved to go through this.
All of a sudden, the footsteps got unbearably close, coming to a stop outside their classroom. The air seemed to grow thick as everyone held their breaths, going completely still.
Please pass, please pass, please pass.
“Aye boss, you sure he’s in here?” Peter heard a man with a deep gruff voice say.
“That’s what his timetable says.” Another replied.
There was shuffling, before the voice from before came back. “Stop standing around and get the bloody door open, then!”
A loud thug against the door had someone - Betty - yelping, before she clamped a hand over her mouth. The whole door jolted when it was hit again, the hinges bending under the force.
“Oh shit, Peter!” He heard Ned whisper, clinging even more tightly onto him.
The banging increased, getting more forceful each time till it exploded open all at once, the table that had been stacked against it tumbling across the floor. Suddenly, the room was filled with noise, so much noise and so much movement Peter was struggling to keep up.
Kids were screaming, backing up further against the wall and cowering behind tables, while a group of men marched in, yelling orders that Peter couldn’t process and holding their guns up. They were dressed head to toe in black combat gear with various weapons hanging from utility belts.
They quickly formed a clump, scanning the crow of children while aiming assault rifles at their heads, like they were rounding up sheep to slaughter.
But Peter still hadn’t moved, frozen in place.
“- I said get down on the ground! Hands up, now! On the ground!” The man at the front was shouting, screaming at them a the top of his lungs, spit flying from his mouth.
Crying and whimpering, everyone did what they said.
“Peter Parker!”
Peter’s stomach dropped. His mouth suddenly went impossibly dry and he was sure he stopped to breathing, to scared to move a muscle. Fucking Parker Luck.
“Peter Parker!” The man screamed again. “We know you’re here. Stand up with your hands in the air, or I’m gonna put a bullet in these kids heads, one by fucking one!”
As if to prove his point, he grabbed the kid closest to him by the collar, who happened to be Flash, and pushed the barrel of his gun against the boy’s forehead. Peter could see the moment all the colour drained from Flashes face, as he desperately tried to shake his head and stutter out a plea.
That seemed to snap Peter out of his frozen terror, as he ripped his arm away from Ned’s grip and stumbled out into the open space of the class, slowly stepping away from his huddled classmates.
“You don’t need to hurt anyone.” Peter said, proud that his voice came out stronger than he felt.
All guns whipped to point at him, the men holding them looking strangely… fearful. There was a manic glint to their eyes, as if they were expecting him to lunge and attack at any moment. They must know he’s Spider-Man, why else would they be scared of a seventeen-year-old kid?
“I said hands in the air!” The leader screamed again, gesturing forcefully with his gun.
Peter’s hands shot up in an instant, his breath starting to come out in short bursts. The leader still didn’t let go of Flash, his gun still aimed threateningly at his head. Now there were five guns on him, one on Flash.
Great. Just great.
Peter gulped. “What do you want?”
At that, another person emerged from behind the group. Though this man stood out from the rest, wearing a formal grey suit instead of tactical gear, and walking with an air of confidence. Then it clicked, Peter had seen this guy before, making appearances in Avengers Press conferences and was sometimes projected on holograms while Tony worked. Thaddeus Ross.
“By failing to sign the Accords, you are in direct violation of the law. All unaccounted-for mutants and enhanced individuals are to be imprisoned in the raft, permanently.” Ross waltzed forward, standing slightly in front of the guards, but far enough away so Peter wouldn't be able to lunge and attack him. Smart.
The men were edging them selves towards him, still tense and cautious. Peter felt himself backing away, only to pause when their fingers hovered over the trigger.
“I’m not - I don’t know what you’re - please, you’ve got the wrong person,” Peter stuttered desperately. He was definitely panicking now. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his classmates staring at him with wide eyes. Were they scared of him too?
Ross laughed, a breathy chuckle that said he knew he was lying. “Let’s not play the lying game, Pete.” He paused, before his icy eyes stared into Peter’s. “Or should I say… Spider-Man?”
Peter's fists clenched, but that was confirmation enough as there was a collection of gasps around the room, everyone going silent. But Peter couldn’t look at them, couldn’t bear to see the look of betrayal - or even fear - that he was sure must be etched onto all their faces. His eyes remained fixed on the leader, desperately trying to turn his dread into confidence. That’s what Tony would do.
“You can’t do this.” Peter spat, but it came out more of a whisper, more dangerous than he had ever heard his own voice before. Maybe if he just kept stalling, kept the leader talking, he could wait till Tony showed up with the rest of the Avengers. They would know what to do.
Again, Ross just laughed, that sickeningly sweet sigh that made Peter want to clock him round the cheek. “We can, and we will. It’s our duty to keep the citizens of this world safe, you see, and that means keeping foul, loathsome individuals like yourself - “
“That’s - that’s inhumane!” Peter spluttered.
“Oh, but you aren’t really human, are you? You will be treated as what you are - a mutant.”
Peter tried not to let the words sting too much. He heard it enough from drunk men on the street, but now it was worse, because all his classmates were watching. He felt bare, stripped from everything that made him a hero as he stood before the men, who were looking at him with such fear and disgust as if he were some feral animal.
Ross clasped his hands together. “Right, I think this has gone on long enough. If you cooperate, this will hurt a lot less for you, and your friends.” His eyes flickered to where Flash was still being held in a death grip by the large man.
The message was clear. Act out and a bullet goes In Flash’s brain. Then Betty’s. Then Ned’s. Then everyone in his class.
Peter momentarily caught eyes with Flash, who was pitifully clawing at the arm securing him, his eyes wide and fearful. He could see tears tracking down his face, cheeks puffy and nose snotty. With only being able to glance, he tried to tell Flash it would be okay, that he would be okay.
“Turn around, slowly, with your hands behind your back.” Ross instructed.
This was humiliating. He was Spider-Man, but could do nothing to stop these crazy people from literally kidnapping him in broad daylight
Peter nodded, holding his breath, and slowly turned on the spot. He lowered his arms to behind his back, gradually, so none of the guards became spooked by any sudden movements.
But now he was facing the back, he could clearly see Ned and Michelle huddled together in front of him, still sat on the floor in the same spot.
Ned’s chest was moving up and down way too fast, his eyes flicking between the guards Peter could hear approaching him and Peter’s face. He shook his head slightly, obviously in disbelief and fear that this was actually happen. Michelle’s eyes were locked with his, unwavering but oddly comforting.
Peter clenched his jaw tightly, blowing a shaky breathe out through his nose. He was scared. Terrified, even.
“It’ll be okay,” He mouthed to them.
Liar. He didn’t know if it would be okay.
Ned started to silently cry.
Peter's breathe hitched when he felt the heavy cold metal of cuffs clasped around his wrists, snapping shut with an ominous click. Now he was really screwed.
When it was done, the men shuffled backwards, still training their assault rifles at Peter’s back as the boy slowly started to turn back around, trying to muster as much defiance in his eyes as he could.
“Your cooperation is much appreciated, Mr Parker.” Ross smiled. He nodded to one of the men, a silent message that Peter didn’t know the meaning of.
Peter chose to ignore it. “If you think the Avenger’s will just leave me in there, then you’re more of a dipshit that I thought.”
Ross raised his eyebrows at the new attitude, but didn’t seem threatened, chuckling slightly. “You’re not one of them, Spider-Man. You’re a low life criminal. Why would they spend the time saving something like you?”
Okay, ouch.
“Besides, even if they did try, which they won’t, you’re going to the raft - deep in the middle of the ocean in the most secure facility in the world. No even Stark’s Iron-ass could get you out of there.”
Peter was about to reply, a snappy retort that would cost him later, but the words died in his throat when something heavy and cold touched his neck. He’d been distracted, not listening to his growing Spider-Sense in favour of buying time with Ross, so the unwelcomed touch had him jerking out of the way automatically.
The men were shouting again, taking aim with their guns and screaming orders at the kids who had been startled. Peter forced himself to keep still, stay calm, he didn’t want to risk one of the cowardly guards from getting so freaked out they started spraying bullets.
The cold metal on his neck was back, clasping round like a fucking collar, like he was a fucking a dog. When it had locked into place, it sat heavily and tightly on his collar bone, the metal strap thick enough that it irritated his skin.
“Just a precaution,” Ross said casually. His hand slipped into his pocket to pull out a small, sleek remote, and without warning he jabbed his thumb down onto the blue button.
If he was able to think, Peter would have been embarrassed by the yelp that burst from his lips. But he wasn’t, because he could process nothing but the all consuming pain that was rocketing through him, like icy molten lava through his veins. His legs gave out beneath him, and he was sure he would have face planted if not for the two guards that gripped onto his arms, keeping him up right.
The electricity that coursed through him made his body convulse repeatedly, seeming to stretch out for forever. But he refused to scream, keeping his mouth clamped shut so his teeth grinded together.
Finally, it ceased and Peter couldn't help but pant, finally able to heave in laboured breaths. As he came back to himself, he could hear people - shouting, crying, his own heartbeat thudding violently.
“- the fuck, you crazy psychopaths - “
That was Michelle, he was pretty sure.
“-don’t, no! Please, don’t do it again - “
That one sounded like Ned.
“- shit, holy shit, crap - “
And that one was Flash.
All the voices faded in and out, his ears still ringing. He managed to drag his eyes open as se struggled to get his feet under him, finding that the electrocution was leaving him twitching and exhausted.
“Ouch!” Peter rasped as he regained mobility. “That was completely uncalled for. But you are the bad guys, so I guess I shouldn’t be too shocked.”
Peter offered a lazy smile. Keep them distracted. By Mr Stark some more time.
“You’ll learn to keep that mouth of yours shut.” Ross commented, “Now, I think we’ve waisted enough time here, let’s go.”
With that, Ross gave a harsh shove to Flash’s collar, sending him tumbling to the corner of the room.
Big mistake, Peter smirked to himself.
He made no room to budge when the guards securing him started to push him forward, instead letting out a breathy laugh. “You tools are even more dense that I thought.”
Ross tilted his head in confusion. The remote to the shock collar was back in his pocket. He’d have a few seconds, give or take, to cause some chaos. Just till Mr Stark gets here. By him time.
“I’m not a psychotic douchebag, but even I know that you never, ever throw away your hostage.”
Time to do something stupid. Peter threw his head back in one strong motion, hearing the impact break the nose of the guard directly behind him, shortly followed by his strained yell.
He ignored the gasps around the room and focused on the task at hand. It was like things were moving in slow motion but he was moving in real time. He could sense Ross flinching back in shock, alarm etched onto his face in a fearful expression he would have laughed at if not for the situation.
While trying to wrench his wrists apart from his cuffs, he ran up the side of the wall, flipping away from it and sending out a powerful kick to a guard on his way down. The man was out like a light.
But the cuffs weren’t bending at all - Vibrainium probably - which was making things more difficult. Peter didn’t think he had ever moved this fast, this desperately before as ducked under an incoming punch, kicking another man straight in the balls.
A gunshot sounded, shattering one of the hanging lights above him and making his ears ring, but he didn’t let it slow him and he kicked the leg of the man who had shot, making them drop the gun. Thanks to his sense, he caught the weapon behind his back, immediately crushing the weapon in his hands,
Then he was out of time because Ross had the remote, his finger harshly pressed against the trigger and once again Peter was writhing, but this time had no one holding him and collapsed straight to the ground. He collided with the floor on his right side, trying to curl into a ball as he seized and held in a scream. When the current stopped, he went boneless, now lying face first on the floor and trying to drag in breaths.
Peter felt the heavy footsteps walk towards him, heard the rustle of Ross’s jacket as the man crouched down besides his head. Dirty fingers laced through his hair making him feel sick, before they suddenly tugged up, his head coming with them. He was forced to stare Ross in the eyes, to his horror feeling tears well up.
Ross slowly shook his head, as if he was disappointed in him. “Come on, Pete. I thought you were supposed to be smarter than this.”
“Leave him alone you maniac!” Michelle screamed from her spot on the floor, holding out the broken pipe of a desk leg.
Ross didn’t even bat an eye, motioning to the two remaining guards left standing instead.
Again, Peter felt girthy fingers slipping under his arms, hauling him up to a kneeling position. They seemed even more cautious than before, still holding onto his arms from behind but keeping distanced, probably to avoid another head-butting incident.
Peer blinked lethargically at Ross, who was still crouched down so he was eye level. He was starting to feel the strength come back to him though, thanks to his enhanced healing factor, but he figured staying low would be his safest option right now. If they thought he was too weak to move, they might drop their guard. So, reluctantly Peter let himself give in to the arms securing him and continued to breath harshly.
“You’ll learn.” Ross said, voice clipped. He said nothing as he closed the gap between them, pulling his arm back, his hand bawling into a fist. Peter fought the urge to dodge, letting the punch hit him square in the stomach. It knocked the breathe out of him and he gasped, this time not prepared for the two other blows that quickly followed, pummelling into the same sore spot.
Peter leaned forward as much as the guards would allow, his head dropping as his eyes squeezed shut, trying to ignore the pain in his midsection. His senses buzzed as Ross bought his arm back again, ready to strike for a fourth time, when -
“Stop! He’s just a kid, please.” Mr Harrington shouted, standing on shaky legs. “He’s just a kid.”
Ross dropped his arm and Peter blew out a relieved breath, only to panic when he realised his teacher was putting himself in the line of fire.
“It’s fine.” Peter rasped, the sound coming out as a strained whisper. “Don’t Mr Harrington - just, just keep everyone safe. I’ll be fine.”
Mr Harrington was staring back at him with so much regret, fear - but not of him, for him. Eventually, he slowly nodded and lowered himself back to the ground.
Peter dropped his head, feigning exhaustion, only for it to be tugged back up by his hair again, this time by the guard behind him. Ross resumed his crouching position opposite him.
Peter felt his throat go dry when he saw the remote in the mans hand, a silent threat. Teasingly, Ross’s finger danced around the trigger button as he started to hum to himself, pressing over the button lightly, not enough to actually electrocute him.
It made Peter’s heart hammer. But now he had an idea - it was going to suck, but it could work.
“Look man, I’m gonna be honest, the cuffs? They’re a little much. I’m not trying to shame your kinks or whatever, but I don’t exactly swing that way and - “
Ross slapped him, quick and unexpected, but not particularly painful. “This isn’t a joke, boy.”
“No, of course not - what gets you going in the bedroom is your business,” Peter smirked, hearing a wet chuckle from Ned. “Wait - can you even get going - if you know what I mean? You are pretty old, I don’t know - “
With a frustrated huff, Ross pressed the trigger, the electricity coursing through his body instantly. But this time, Peter was prepared, and he clenched his jaw through the pain.
Now, time to do another stupid thing.
Even though his muscles screamed in agony, with a less than dignified yelp he threw his body forward, smashing his forehead into Ross’s. Just like he’d planned, the electricity shot through him and into Ross, making the man scream out momentarily and drop the remote.
Now the current had stopped, Peter gave him no time to recover and span round to the remaining guards behind him, kicking the gun out of one of the thugs hands just as a shot ran out, the bullet embedding itself in the wall behind him. Fighting with no hands was harder than he expected, as he leaped from side to side in an attempt to dodge the flurry of bullets coming from the last remaining gun, while narrowly missing a punch to the head.
Ross was recovering from the shocks though, weakly crawling across the room to where the remote lay. Peter lunged for it, hoping he would make it there before Ross did, but was pulled back by a hand on his leg, making him crash to the floor with a gasp and break his nose on impact, since he had no arms to stop his fall. The man landed another kick to Peter’s side, before the teen managed to catch the guards feet between his leg, flipping him over in a quick motion. His head banged against the desk on his way down and the man was out.
Ross’s fingers were stretching outwards, inches away from the remote, when a heavy boot with purple laces came down on it, crushing the controls to a mess of wires and plastic. Then, the same boot stomped down onto Ross’s hand, the man howling in pain as his fingers were squashed.
Michelle smiled proudly, her foot still clamped down on Ross’s fingers as he weakly clawed at the boot, still fairly immobile from the shock that had taken a tole on his human body.
“Nice one!” Peter yelled, panting as he swerved out of the way from another fist. He tried to wrench his wrists apart again, but it was no use.
He was ducking from a kick when the man took him by surprise, elbowing him in the side of the head and kneeing him in the stomach, leaving Peter to sink to the ground. He tried to shuffle back as the last standing guard took a menacing step forward, pulling out a small pistol from his belt that Peter hadn’t noticed before.
Taking aim at Peter’s head, the man smiled down at him. “Bye, bye little Spider - “
BANG!
Peter jerked in shock, his eyes squeezing shut as he expected the pain from a bullet to consume him. But nothing came, and he opened his eyes cautiously.
The guard was no longer towering over him, but slumped, unconscious over a desk. Instead, Ned was standing, his body frozen and eyes wide, holding the door of a metal cabinet above his head.
“I can’t believe I just did that.” Ned whispered, in disbelief.
Peter stared at him, his mouth agape, in an equal amount of shock. “Dude.” Peter gulped, “That was - that was seriously cool,”
“I can’t believe I just did that!” Ned repeated, this time a wide smile spreading onto his lips.
The colour drained from Peter’s face all at once as he realised they had an audience, realised that his whole class knew who he was. “Oh shit, shit, shit.”
Slowly, Peter craned his neck round, propping himself up on his elbows to see the rest of his classmates and Mr Harrington, all staring silently, their mouths agape and bodies tight.
“I can, I can explain.” Peter stuttered.
And at that, noise erupted in the room.
“Penis Parker is Spider-Man?”
“No way that just happened - “
“- holy shit, we nearly died - “
Voices overlapped as the students started to emerge from their crouched position, crowding round him. It was suffocating.
Then, a voice erupted through the chaos, “Back the fuck up!”
Michelle was giving them hard stares, and it seemed to get the message across as the class started to back away, giving him space to breath. Ned closed the distance between them and stuck out a hand, hauling Peter up into a standing position. Embarrassingly, he had to lean on Ned for support, still twitching from the after shocks and suddenly exhausted. No one seemed to point it out though.
A sound caught Peter’s attention - mechanical humming, the whirring of repulsars. He sighed. The mother hen was on their way.
“What?” Ned asked, noticing his expression.
“Just - you’ll see.”
He was met with confused looks.
“Three,” he breathed, “Two…. One.”
The shattering of the classroom windows had everyone - par Peter - gasping in shock, already cowering away. And then they gasped again, but this time not in fright but in awe, because Ironman, fucking Ironman, had just burst through and was now standing in the centre of the room, gauntlet raised and ready to fire, no doubt scanning the crowd for dangers.
“Hey, Mr Stark.” Peter said tiredly, giving a small wave when Tony’s face plate fell, revealing ruffled hair and a worried look.
Tony just blinked, obviously unsure of the situation, but then suddenly something flickered across his eyes and his posture straightened, his eyebrows scrunching together as he stormed towards Peter.
Peter winced, he could feel the anger radiating off the older man, and he didn’t blame it. He’d almost got himself kidnapped and his whole class killed in a few minutes. But when Tony reached him, the speech that Peter expected didn’t come, as the man zeroed in on his neck.
Oh. Shock collar. Right. How did he forget about that?
“What the fuck is this?” Tony demanded, his metal encased fingers trailing over the heavy band. He paid no attention to the rest of the class, even when Flash had whispered, ‘Holy shit, Peter knows Tony Stark’, or the unconscious guards littering the floor, along with Ross who had seemingly passed out after the shocks and the broken fingers.
Peter’s cheeks blushed slightly, relieved that Tony wasn’t angry at him, a little touched that the man seemed to care so much, but also a little humiliated that he had this degrading piece of metal still wrapped around his neck. “It’s, uh, it’s a shock collar.”
Tony went still. Peter could see the tightening of his jaw, as the man tried to reign in his fury.
“Mr Stark, it’s fine - “
“Who the hell put this on you?”
Peter gulped and raised a shaky finger to point at where Ross lay. Tony whipped round, spotted the unconscious man, and let out an angry huff, resisting the urge to march over and strangle the man. It was then that he noticed all the other guards around the room.
“Shit, Kid. You okay?” The anger was gone, replaced by a deep concern that was reserved just for the enhanced teen.
Peter nodded, his body on autopilot. “Oh, yeah yeah, of course - you know me, always right as rain.”
Tony gave him a pointed look.
“Would, uh, would be nice if you could get these,” he gave his cuffed hands a shake, “off me though, and this.” He motioned with his head to the collar.
“No problem, Underoos.” With a fine laser, Tony cut through the cuffs first. Peter rubbed at his red wrists.
He moved onto the collar, which was a little more of a tedious process. Everyone in the room stopped their whispering, watching tensely. Peter suddenly got very scared it had some kind of fail safe, and would shock him again.
But finally things went his way, and the collar clattered to the floor, revealing the black and burnt skin beneath. Tony winced at the sight.
Peter touched the inflamed area gently, but even that stung. He sucked in a breath at seeing everyone was still staring at him. “It’s fine, guys, really. Nothing Spider-Man can’t handle.”
“Kid!” Tony spluttered, thinking Peter had slipped up.
Peter just rolled his eyes. “I took out six guards while being electrocuted Tony, I think the cats out the bag.”
“Or spider, in this case.” Ned butted in with a small smile.
Tony scanned the room, a little overwhelmed from the situation he had walked in on. “Guess I better get a stack of NDAs then. God, Pepper is gonna kill me with all the paperwork.”
Peter turned to his class. “You can’t tell anyone, please. If-if my identity gets out - I mean, there are a lot of people that wanna kill me, and if they know then you’re all in danger, and so is my aunt, and-and my life will be ruined. Please.”
Then, Flash, of all people, spoke up. “Your secret’s safe with us, Parker.”
Peter couldn’t help but grin at seeing everyone agreeing, whooping and nodding.
Tony clapped his hands together. “Right, now that’s sorted, let’s get you back to the tower and have you checked out by Bruce.”
Flash blanched, his mouth hanging open. “Shut the front door - you know Bruce Banner, AKA the hulk, AKA the greatest scientist alive? How many other Avengers do you know?”
Peter smirked. “Dude, I am an Avenger.”
“Nope, no you’re not.” Tony interjected.
“I so am!”
“Nope.”
“But what about when we were in space? You knighted me and everything!”
“That was because the world was ending. The world’s no longer ending, so you’re no longer an Avenger. Simple.”
Peter huffed, mimicking Tony’s voice under his breath.
Flash, on the other hand, looked like he was seconds from passing out. “You went to fucking space?”