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Peter Parker did not want to be in detention on Saturday. He had about a billion other things he’d rather be doing, but his teacher had caught him ‘cheating’ on a test, so there he was. He hadn’t been cheating, not that Ms Garcia seemed to care about that one bit. He’d been sketching the blueprint of the arc reactor on the back of his test — which he’d already finished — out of boredom, trying to do something remotely productive whilst his classmates finished their tests. But Ms Garcia had caught him glancing into the distance for one second when he was remembering the intricate details of the arc, and bam. Saturday detention. 

One sole comfort to the situation was that Ned was going to be there. That was Peter’s fault, as well. He felt rather bad about it, cause Ned had a pretty much perfect record. He’d gotten Ned to go on his phone in class to hack into a government website. Using your phone in class was forbidden, but never warranted a full day of detention…unless of course you were caught by Mr Harrington, who was a technophobe. And of course, they’d been in Mr Harrington’s class at the time. 

Peter walked into the library at Midtown faster than his typical walking pace. The school library was where the detention was held. He was late, and he knew he was. Peter had had to run halfway across New York to get there even close to being on time, and he was still late. It hadn’t helped that last night on patrol, he’d gotten a deep gash on his leg from a fight which was still healing. That had slowed him down a bit. 

As a result, when he entered, Mr Harrington had already started his little spiel about the rules of detention to the other people he’d be sat with for the nine hours of torture. Of course it was Mr Harrington supervising the Saturday detention. That made sense, and it was just Peter’s luck as well. The man had probably grinned with gleeful joy when he’d seen that Peter was on the list of students for Saturday detention.

Peter was, on paper, a pretty good student. He did well on his tests, tried to keep out of the way of others and generally was a fly on the wall for all the going ons in Midtown High. This, however, all went to shit whenever Mr Harrington got involved. Mr Harrington was a somewhat incompetent teacher, and in their first lesson together back when Peter had been a freshman, Peter had stupidly corrected an equation on the board which the teacher had gotten wrong. 

Ever since that day, Mr Harrington had had it out for him and always made certain to ask him the difficult questions. Peter actually preferred it that way, because the equations that Mr Harrington wrote out were typically fairly easy and he liked to be challenged. That didn’t mean he didn’t hate the dude, however. The rivalry he had with the teacher was the most consistent thing in his life, pretty much. 

Peter sat down next to Ned in the middle row, whose face was already pale from just the start of Mr Harrington’s speech. Peter cast a glance around the rest of the room, taking in the other classmates he would be spending nine hours with. Michelle Jones was sat at the back by herself, that was okay, he and Michelle weren’t close but tolerated each other. She was in AcaDec with him. Cindy Moon, another AcaDec member, was sat at the front, two rows ahead of Peter and Ned. Although — what had Cindy done to get detention? She was like the least likely person in their class to get detention, with her almost perfect scores and kind manner. And then…great, the Parker luck pulled through. Next to Cindy sat Flash Thompson, Midtown High’s resident bully and the hybrid of a rich-asshole-popular-kid with a nice car. 

Peter was really looking forward to sitting right by his bully for hours. 

Mr Harrington had paused his list of rules to stare at Peter as he sat down and slung his bag on the floor with an air of nonchalance.

“Mr Parker,” Mr Harrington said after a moment, raising an eyebrow. “You’re late.” 

He dragged the word out like it was unforgivable. 

“Yeah, Parker, you’re late.” Flash jeered, turning around in his seat to look at Peter. 

Mr Harrington sighed and glanced at Flash. “Mr Thompson, I don’t need someone to repeat my words.” Flash closed his mouth and looked disappointed. 

“As I was saying before I was interrupted,” Mr Harrington glared at him. “I am expecting absolute silence from this room. I will be in the office over there, and I have lots of paperwork to be getting through. No funny business from inside this room.” 

“So we just sit here?” Peter asked. “Doing nothing?” 

It was antagonising, that comment, and Peter knew he shouldn’t have opened his mouth as Ned’s eyes widened in disbelief as he said it. 

“Now this is why we get here on time, Parker,” Mr Harrington’s mouth curved into a mocking smile, “Because I already explained what you are going to be doing today. Leeds, would you like to enlighten your friend?” 

“Uh—we have to write a letter,” Ned mumbled. “About who we are and what we did wrong to end up in here.” 

Well that was just nonsensical and principally lazy for a whole-day assignment.

“About who we are?” Peter repeated back to Ned, then looked at Mr Harrington to complain. “That’s complete—”

“Mr Parker unless you wish to have another detention next week, I suggest you stop talking,” Mr Harrington snapped, and then sighed. “Do your assignment. I’ll check on you in an hour. No. Funny. Business.” 

Mr Harrington strode out of the room and closed the door behind him, returning to his office. Peter could hear his footsteps and sat with his arms crossed, irritated. It was just so stupid. He could have been working with Tony to fix his suit after the patrol he had. Or studying for his finals — wasn’t that more important than writing some letter about who he was? 

"You have to be kidding,” Flash scoffed when the footsteps had died down. “Nine hours stuck with you losers?” 

Funnily enough, Peter had been thinking something along the same lines about Flash himself. 

Ned turned to him and whispered in his ear, “It’s going to be a long day.” Peter silently agreed. 

“Flash—” Cindy shook her head at the boy, “We need to keep it down.” 

She was speaking like you would to a young child acting out, and Flash clearly didn’t appreciate her tone. He sniggered. “Ooooh, scared of Big Bad Harrington, are we?” 

Cindy sighed. “Flash, really.” 

See, thing is, Peter had always assumed that Cindy and Flash were friends, because they were in the same kind of social circle. They always hung out with broadly the same people — Jason Ionello and Betty Brant. 

Everyone at Midtown High was a nerd, it kind of came alongside going to a school focused on science and technology. But there were different ranks of nerd, if that made sense. Flash, Cindy: those guys were the popular nerds. It seemed like a juxtaposition, but in a high school, there were always popular people. Just a fact. But Ned, Peter and Michelle? They definitely fell into the loser nerds category. Which made the contrast very evident: different people living in different worlds. 

Except the more Flash taunted and teased, the louder he got and the more irritated Cindy became. She kept asking for him to sit down — because the boy had gotten out of his seat to complain. As she sighed and shook her head and told him off, Peter started to rethink his opinion. Cindy certainly wasn’t that close friends with Flash. 

“This is such bullshit,” Flash continued, and then stared at Peter for a moment, as if considering something. 

“What?” Peter asked, trying to stay out of Flash’s little outburst. If he got involved, he’d just get verbally attacked with pathetic insults within seconds of talking.

“I can’t believe you were going to mouth off to Harrington, Parker,” Flash chuckled, “Who would have thought you had it in you?” 

Peter opened his mouth to defend himself, to say, Hey, fuck you, I mouth off to him in class the whole time, but someone got there first. 

“Oh I don’t know,” Michelle said, the first time she’d spoken up. “I remember first day of freshman year. Actually sir, it’s 3x, not 2x.” 

That was — verbatim — what Peter had said when he was correcting Mr Harrington with that first equation, years ago. Peter glanced at her for a moment. He hadn’t thought anyone had remembered that. Yet alone Michelle. 

He’d never really spoken to Michelle Jones, not properly. She was a member of the Academic Decathlon, but kept herself to herself most of the time. Occasionally made sarcastic comments about people, but tended to stay out of the drama and just answered questions. Personally, from what he’d seen, Peter thought she would be a good leader of AcaDec, mostly because she got the most answers right and always kept a level head. 

“What?” Flash queried, confused. He looked at Michelle as though he’d never seen her before. 

“Just proving that Parker’s done it before,” Michelle said matter-of-factly. 

Flash frowned. “What are you, like some stalker or something?” 

“Nope, just observant,” Michelle smirked. 

Flash raised his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips. “Fine, then, what have you observed about me?” 

“I only observe interesting people.” 

Holy shit! That was brutal. And also a compliment to Peter at the same time. He wondered what else she had noticed about him. Flash looked like he was going to punch her for that comment, so Peter got up and stood between them to protect Michelle. “Hey! If you want to hit someone, hit me instead.” 

Flash cracked his knuckles and said, “Sure thing, Parker.”

Before any punching could begin, Cindy held Flash back as Ned held Peter back. They seemed to have coordinated their movements, rather bizarre given the fact that Peter was pretty sure Ned had never spoken to Cindy before in his life. 

“Woah, guys,” Cindy said, “We don’t want to fight.” 

“Yeah, there’s no need for this, let’s just write our essays,” Ned continued, holding his hands out in a calming motion. 

“Fine,” Flash muttered, and Peter did the same. Michelle was still sat down on her chair in any case, but the others returned to their seats. As Peter was moving to sit down, his wounded leg bumped into the leg of one of the tables and sent a shooting pain through his body. 

“Fuck!” Peter exclaimed as he hit it. Most of the others — except Michelle — jumped in alarm, and stared at him in confusion. Peter reached down to clutch his leg. “Sorry, guys. Hit my leg.” 

They all looked at his leg after he said that, and Flash practically hissed in concern as he saw the scrape. Ned peered at it from his seat, and then got up to look properly. Peter had told Ned about his patrol, but not in detail, not enough to know that he’d been injured like that. 

“Holy shit, Peter,” Ned crouched down next to his leg.

“Do you need a First Aid Kit?” Cindy asked in alarm. “I can get Harrington back—or I can do First Aid?” 

Peter felt his personal space was being invaded and he knew that they’d start to ask questions that Peter obviously couldn’t answer, cause, hello, he was a superhero who had a secret identity. And it was fairly obvious he hadn’t just tripped or something like that. 

So he brushed Ned off and tucked his leg under the chair, keeping his face blank of any pain and sat down again. 

“What—no, I’m fine,” Peter shook his head. “It’s nothing, really.” 

They all looked at him like they knew very much that it wasn’t fine. Even Michelle, whose face was typically nonchalant and lacking most emotion, indicated a hint of concern.

“Parker…” Flash said after a moment. “You don’t get like…abused by your foster parent, do you?” 

It was insensitive, his question, but that was Flash for you.

Peter sighed. “If you knew me at all, Flash, you’d know that I’m not in the foster system. My aunt looks after me.”

“Oh,” Flash replied, seemingly stunned. “I didn’t think you had…” 

“Didn’t think I had family?” Peter retorted frustratedly. “Yeah, well, I do.” 

They were all silent, unsure of what to say. If there was anything to say to that. So Peter continued. He would defend May until his death.

“And she doesn’t abuse me. Just to clarify. Look—she’s great, alright. She never wanted kids, but she looked after me ever since my parents died, with my uncle, until he…” Peter shook his head, snapping out of it. “Well, anyways, it doesn’t matter.” 

Had he really just done that? Told Flash, Cindy and Michelle something it had taken him years to admit to Ned? Finding out May had never wanted kids had ruined Peter for weeks. He’d felt like he was ruining her life, but then Ben had sat him down and assured him that although she’d never wanted kids, Peter wasn’t just some kid. He was special. Their lives had been improved because of him. 

The idea of it had only worsened after Ben died. There was no biological link between May and Peter. Ben had been the link to the Parkers, and even though Peter knew May would never dream of giving him up, he constantly felt guilty about being in her life. She seemed like the kind of woman to move from New York to some place in Europe at her age, but she was tied down to the city because of him. Not that she would ever say anything like that, or hint at it, but Peter had guessed.  

“I’m really sorry, Peter.” Cindy whispered softly.

Peter blinked. “I don’t even know why I told you that, god I must sound so—stupid.”

Whining about his problems to people who barely knew him, it was pathetic.  And one of those people was literally his bully, what was he thinking? He stewed over this idea, looking at the floor as silence enveloped the room for a second. 

“My gran died last year,” Cindy said suddenly, and everyone looked at her. “It…sucks. I get it. I’m sorry about your parents. And your uncle.”

Peter nodded at her silently. 

“I’m sorry for your losses, both of you.” Flash said to Cindy, and glanced at Peter when he scoffed. 

He hated when people said that. 

“Everyone says that,” Peter shot a look at Flash. “It’s supposed to help, or something, but it doesn’t. It just hurts more.” 

“Oh,” Flash mumbled. “Sorry.” 

There was another pause. 

“I’ve never lost someone before,” Flash admitted. “Cause I’ve never really had anyone to lose. I don’t have grandparents—they all died before I was born. And my parents…well.” 

“What about your parents?” Ned asked. 

“I know what you all think,” Flash looked at them. “That I’m just a rich asshole with a fancy car. Living the high life, or some bullshit. It’s an act, though. I have the car, I have the money, but none of it matters. It doesn’t matter—cause they’re never there.” 

“Your parents?” Peter asked, with a tinge of surprise.

Flash took a deep breath and then nodded. “My dad’s got this job that means he’s always in another country, and whenever my mom stays, she just gets really anxious. So once I started getting to an age where I could take care of myself they just…left me here alone. They give me everything I need, just…” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish it. 

“Everything except love,” Cindy mumbled. 

Flash seemed to snap out of his reverie. “I mean—that sounds—yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“If you ever need anything, please ask,” the words tumbled out of Peter’s mouth before he realised what he was saying, who he was saying it to. “Someone to talk to, or, I don’t know, somewhere to stay. To be less…alone.” 

The others were staring at him like he was crazy. And he probably was. All of the years of torment, of shoving him into lockers, of calling him names. Making his popularity amongst the other high schoolers plummet, not that popularity mattered to him.  

“You would offer that to me…” Flash blinked at him. “Even after everything?” 

But this was a version of Flash that Peter had never seen. A Flash that was spilling his soul, telling him the very reason he’d even been a bully in the first place. It was clear Flash acted out to be loud, to be seen, to be present. Something he’d clearly lacked in his childhood. And that made Peter feel extremely lucky for how attentive, how there May always was. So, yeah, fuck it. He would offer a safe place for the guy, even though he was his bully. 

“Yeah,” Peter breathed. “Yeah, I would.” 

Flash didn't seem to know what to say. 

“Haven’t you noticed?” Michelle commented. “He’ll help anyone. Parker’s just like that.” 

Peter didn’t think that was accurate, really. He didn’t go out of his way to help people, just if there was something he noticed. Picking up stuff for people, telling them if they’d left a book behind, whispering the answer to them if they didn’t know it and they’d been picked on. Small stuff. Like being Spiderman: the friendly neighbourhood hero, not saving the world, just…there for the citizens of New York. 

“Thanks, Parker.” Flash said finally. 

Peter cast his gaze around the room, not wanting to say anything. He doubted Flash would ever take him up on it, in any case. But it didn’t hurt to offer his company, in case the boy ever felt like he was drowning in his own home. 

He caught eyes with Ned, who been staring at his piece of paper, as though unaware of what he should say to any of it. To Peter, the detention felt like one of the sleepovers he and Ned had, late night conversations about thoughts they rarely voiced, things they couldn’t say out loud normally. But Ned was a fairly private person, reluctant to offer up his thoughts on a matter even when Peter had told him he wanted to hear his opinion. Ned kept his emotions on lockdown. That was why he hadn’t been contributing to the conversation overly. 

But against all odds, Peter’s best friend swallowed, and then coughed, drawing the attention from the others toward him. 

“I have the opposite problem to you, Flash,” Ned commented. “Mine are always there. My moms. They think it’s being friendly, looking at my homework and stuff, always around. They really—care, about my education. But there’s this…pressure. Pressure to perform, to do well.” 

Well, shit. He was talking about it. Peter was under the impression Ned had only ever spoken about the (what was typically called) Helicopter Parenting he’d experienced throughout the years with Peter. No-one else. And yet.  

Ned paused, and then continued after taking a breather. “There’s an expectation for me to be the best, to be top of my class even though I’m in a school with…well, geniuses. They’ve put so much money into my education, and I don’t want to let them down. I’m the oldest, and my siblings aren’t—they don’t do well in school. So when my moms talk about college and scholarships…I’ll be the first one in my family to go to a good college, and I feel like I have to do it, to impress them. To be worthy of their attention, or whatever. So they can be proud of me.” 

He shook his head, looked down at his paper again. “I’m not saying it’s like—worse—than your situation, Flash. I’m privileged to have them there for me, caring about me, I know that, but…” 

“No,” Flash muttered, “I get it. You feel like you have to be better than you could ever be.” 

Peter felt an overwhelming wave of understanding at that statement. You feel like you have to be better than you could ever be. It felt true, and he related. There had been articles about Spiderman, comparing him side by side with Iron Man. They never knew his true identity, his age, but they could tell from his build he was younger. So all of these news reporters had started talking about him being the replacement for Tony, analysing his every move, criticising it and asking whether that was what Tony would have done. 

I just wanted to be like you. And I wanted you to be better. 

Peter didn’t know how to be like Iron Man, yet alone better than Iron Man. He was just trying to do some good for the community, keep New York safe. Iron Man was a superhero, a figure for the whole world to admire. More than that, he was Peter’s hero. But Spiderman wasn’t like that. Wasn’t trying to be like that. Not a superhero, barely even a hero, just a guy in a suit trying to do some good. 

“Yeah,” Ned mumbled back. 

Peter kind of wanted to clap his friend on the back and say thanks for sharing, but he thought it would ruin the moment. He expected a lull in the conversation, for everyone to turn back to their blank pieces of paper, but Cindy spoke up next. 

“Families are complicated,” Cindy sighed. “I get that. Look—I’m telling you this in confidence, okay?”

They all nodded. Flash’s face turned in recognition, and she smiled at him, so Peter guessed he already knew what she was about to say. Or something along the lines of it. 

“My family is religious, and fairly conservative. All they talk about is how I’m going to get married and have kids when I’m older, and stuff like that.” Cindy said, and then took a moment. “But I’m a lesbian. I won’t marry a man, and I might not have kids. It took me years—years—to accept myself and who I am. Years to be able to even say the word to myself. Telling my friends was the scariest moment of my life, and I knew none of them were homophobic.” 

She sighed. “My parents aren’t homophobic as far as I know, but they are religious. And everyone says it’s different when it’s your own kid. So if I ever tell them…there’s the risk there. That I won’t be accepted. It could go either way. They love me, and I love them, but it might create this rift. I’ve seen it happen before, to other people, and I don’t want to be the one to break up my own family just because of who I am.” 

Flash reached to grab her hand, a move Peter would never have expected. His next words were said quietly, just for Cindy to hear. “Here for you, yeah?” 

Peter had been on the similar route of discovering his identity, but the fear that enveloped Cindy had never been there for him, not really. May had always made it clear to him that whoever he liked, she didn’t mind, as long as they weren’t an asshole and treated him right. Tony casually mentioned his own bisexuality regularly. It had never been a taboo topic for Peter, never even been a thought. He’d never come out, because he’d never felt like he’d had to. Both of his parental figures were overwhelmingly accepting. 

His heart ached for Cindy and her situation. Hoped that her parents would accept her, that it would all work out. 

“Thanks for telling us,” Ned told her. “I’ll tell you the same thing Peter told me when I told him I liked guys and was worried about people accepting me. If they don’t accept you, we’re your new family. We’ll take you in. The whole AcaDec team will, I know it.” 

Cindy sniffed, clearly touched. “Thanks, Ned.” 

Ned glared at Flash, whose arm was wrapped around Cindy’s shoulder to comfort her. “You better not weaponise the fact that I just came out to you in future taunts.” 

“No—I wouldn’t,” Flash shook his head. “I would never.” 

Michelle seemed to ignore the conversation Flash and Ned were having and spoke to Cindy. 

“Figuring out who you are sucks,” Michelle nodded her head at Cindy. “As Leeds said, we’re here for you. I can make a damn good mac and cheese if you need it, or other home-cooked meals. Just say the word.” 

“Don’t forget game nights,” Peter added, which sparked a chuckle out of Cindy. “We’ve gotta have game nights.” 

“Only if I get to be the car in Monopoly,” Flash quickly retorted, hardly breathing as he got the words out.

Was he insane?

Peter stared at him in disgust. “The hat is clearly the best choice, and you decide to bagsy the car?” 

“What?” Flash retracted his arm from around Cindy. “The car is elite.” 

“You’re just so wrong,” Peter shook his head. He was kind of enjoying this light-hearted teasing that he and Flash were engaged in. It felt like a parallel universe, one in which he and Flash Thompson could get along—well, kind of. They were still arguing, even if it was about something entirely mundane. 

He and Flash debated it for a while, before they settled on no-one being right, as it was ultimately ‘an opinion’. Whatever. Peter knew he was right, the hat was the best one. They’d all moved from being sat in their chairs to perching on the tables. Peter’s feet were firmly planted on the chair and he could feel that the wound on his leg was on the mend. 

Flash cocked his head at Michelle. “What about you, Michelle? Anything to share?” 

They all glanced at her. She looked down at her hands. “I’m not very interesting.” 

“C’mon, there must be something,” Flash taunted lightly.

“Hey, don’t force her to share something if she doesn’t want to,” Peter interjected on her behalf, not wanting to make her feel pressured into it.

“The rest of us have spilled her guts,” Flash muttered, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s her turn.” 

Peter sighed. “Flash, don’t go back to being an asshole now we’ve seen your mushy inner personality.” 

Flash backed off, but Michelle looked up from her hands and locked eyes with Flash. “Alright, I’ll say something.” 

“Michelle, you don’t have to—” Peter tried to reassure her, but she raised an eyebrow at him and cut him off. 

“No, it’s fine,” Michelle smiled slightly. “So. Me. I’ve always—struggled to fit in. Think of that one monologue that Jughead did in Riverdale. I’m weird, I’m a weirdo, or whatever. I’ve always been on the outside, on the fringe. People…suck. Broadly speaking. I’m okay watching, seeing what they do, but when it comes to socialising…”

Michelle let out a breath. “Well, it’s not my strong suit, let’s just say that. So I don't really have any friends. There. That satisfy your need to know everything, Thompson?” 

It was short, to the point, but Peter felt like he knew Michelle a whole lot better as a result of it. And he felt guilty, that he’d never made a move to assure her that she was part of the group. Not that Peter had a group. It was just him and Ned. But still, Michelle sometimes sat near them and made comments to them. It was as she had said: she was on the fringe of being friends with them. 

Peter probably should have made the extra effort to include her.

“I’m your friend, Michelle” Peter said, suddenly, desperate to fix the mistake now he’d realised it. It wasn't as some kind of pathetic move in response to her speech. He’d always appreciated her presence in AcaDec and classes generally, but had never told her. He did genuinely consider her a friend. 

“Thanks, nerd,” Michelle smiled. “And, uh my friends call me MJ.”  

MJ. It made sense, suited her somehow. More than Michelle had, in any case. 

The rest of them went quiet, some exchanging nods and glances as though they didn’t know quite what to do next. It was like a parallel world, all of these people he knew only superficially admitting their deep dark thoughts, things that had affected them all their lives.

Then Peter heard footsteps from outside the door that human ears would be unable to detect. His head snapped to the door in alarm. “Shit, Harrington’s coming. Sit down, guys.” 

“How do you—” Flash was about to ask, but Cindy (who clearly had more brain cells than the other boy) trusted Peter’s word and pulled him back into his seat so he didn’t get caught. Peter had thrown himself back into his seat. By the time Harrington had opened the door again, they were all sat in their seats looking like they’d stayed there for the whole hour. Peter was clutching his pen and pretending to write. 

Mr Harrington didn’t walk in fully, just had poked his head in to look at them. He seemed to assess the situation with a triumphant smile, presumably happy that none of them were acting out. Saturday detention was probably supposed to be fraught with fights and people trying to escape, but none of them had left the room. 

“How are the letters going?” He asked. 

All of them stared down at their blank pieces of paper, back up to Mr Harrington, and falsely grinned, putting on thick voices as they talked over one another. 

Flash nodded, “Thinking super hard about it, Mr H,” at the same time as Cindy held up her pen and said, “Really good!” 

“Great!” was Ned’s lie, whereas Peter went for “Best letter I’ve ever written!” which was definitely not his best work. MJ said nothing, which Mr Harrington didn’t seem too surprised by. 

“Alright,” Mr Harrington eyed them warily, and then seemed to decide that they were telling the truth and patted the door with his hand. “Well, get on with it. If you need me, I’ll be out there.”

Several hours later, their pages were still blank. They’d had lunch, a weird affair. Mr Harrington had dragged each of them out two at a time, Ned and Flash first, then Peter and MJ and lastly Cindy, who he trusted to eat by herself based on her academic record. He’d taken them to the cafeteria and let them pick out a sandwich. They ate there, in their pairs — or by themselves, in Cindy’s case — and then he safely returned them to the cafeteria. That was because they weren’t supposed to eat in the library, even on a Saturday, although Peter couldn’t figure out why he split them up. Ned and Flash seemed to get on mostly okay, and both of them returned unharmed. 

Peter had taken the time with MJ to actually speak to her properly, get to know her. Ask her things that he’d never thought to ask, like what her favourite movie was, and stuff. To tell her that if she wanted to hang out with him and Ned, then she was entirely welcome, and if she didn’t want to, then that was okay as well. He found that they were quite similar, and although she wasn’t a major fan of Star Wars, they had a mutual interest in things he hadn’t expected. 

Mr Harrington had let them be after their lunch, back to their blank pieces of paper that the teacher was convinced were covered in heartfelt thought pieces about their actions. He’d made a fuss about some paperwork he had to do when he’d returned Peter and MJ to the library. Some piece of admin Principal Morita had gotten him to do. The students, in turn, had returned to their previous positions sitting on the table and had settled back into light conversation. 

Well. Light was a relative term. 

“For the record, Peter,” Flash said seriously, not with a joking or mocking tone. “I’m really sorry. About all of it. Everything I put you through, over the years. I’m an asshole, but I’m going to try—to be better.” 

“Oh—um,” Peter blinked, “That’s cool.” 

He cringed as the word came out of his mouth. Cool? He’d said that was cool? Good god, Parker, get control over your mouth please.  

“I’d like to be friends, at some point,” Flash announced next, his cheeks reddening slightly as he looked down at the floor. “You don’t have to agree—I get if you can’t…if you can only look at me and see the bullying.” 

Peter surprised himself with his own answer. “No—I’d like that, actually.”

He and Flash becoming friends was the least likely thing he thought would have happened in detention, but hell. 

“And I’m not just saying this because you offered to help me out,” Flash added quickly. “I mean it. Really.”

More hours passed. They chatted about everything and nothing. About high school, the future, college. About the Avengers, about the attack on New York City in 2012, about science and magic. Peter and Ned showed the others their handshake. They all talked about sexuality, and what it meant to be a teenager, about being part of a clique they didn’t want to be in. About their dreams and their aspirations, their worst fears. 

It was like, for the first time, Peter had more than one true friend to talk to. 

“Why are you guys here, in any case?” Peter asked. He thought they were all at the stage where they could at least admit to each other how they’d all found themselves in Saturday detention. 

“Didn’t have anything else to do,” MJ muttered, and Peter raised an eyebrow. It was kind of iconic, really. Very MJ of her. To not be in detention for any reason beyond having nothing else to do.“You, Parker?” 

“Oh, it was stupid,” Peter admitted. “Ms Garcia thought I cheated on a test.” 

“Did you?” Flash asked, excited by the idea of it.

“No,” Peter clarified. 

“Right.” Flash’s face was somewhat dejected. “Well, you’ll still probably get top marks, anyways.” 

It was weird, getting a compliment from Flash, even though he was clearly trying hard to be nice. Peter rather thought he preferred when they were bickering about Monopoly pieces. 

“How about you, Flash, what did you do?” Peter asked in return, mostly out of politeness but also curiosity. 

Flash looked down at his shoes. “I got in a fight yesterday.”

Peter supposed he should feel some sense of remorse that Flash had got detention for picking on some kid. But there was just a sting in his chest. No-one ever cared when it was him being picked on. Teachers saw it happen — Flash calling Peter names in class, but there had never been any punishment for it. Despite the whole anti-bullying policy Principal Morita had supposedly pushed over the years. 

And also, a different sting of pain hit Peter too. The whole point of letting Flash bully him was to prevent him taking it out on anyone else. That was the reason Peter took it without complaint, without ever demanding the boy get punished. Peter could have knocked Flash out with one punch and ensured that he stayed away from him and Ned forever, but he hadn’t. Because he hadn't wanted some poor freshman to be the next target. And yet there they were, Flash having just admitted to being in a fight. 

Was he making the right choice, agreeing to be friends with a guy like that? A guy who said he wanted to be better, but who had been in a fight just the day prior? Peter had agreed without thinking, without processing it. But he’d wanted to believe that Flash could improve, to believe the best in people would always triumph in the end. 

He felt like an idiot. 

“Oh,” Peter muttered, sure he was looking at Flash with a face of disappointment, even though he couldn’t help it. It was just what his face was doing. 

“Don’t look at him like that,” Cindy interrupted, glancing at Peter. “He was the good guy. Some guy from Junior Year was mouthing off to me, saying homophobic shit. He found out, I’m not sure how.” 

Well fuck, that was bad. 

“Holy shit,” Ned scooted closer to Cindy. “That’s terrible, are you alright?” 

Cindy shrugged nonchalantly, but her body was slightly taut, as though she wasn’t quite telling the truth, “It spooked me at the time, but I’m okay. Anyways, Flash heard and, well. The rest was history.” 

Flash raised his hand, showing the bruised knuckles. “Punched him real hard.” 

“Why didn’t you tell Principal Morita?” Michelle asked, and Peter had been thinking the same thing. The other guy had been in the wrong, yet here they were all sat in detention and the other guy, whoever he was, wasn’t there with them. Clearly Morita hadn’t been told the full story. For once, Flash was in the right. 

It almost made Peter laugh, the fact that the one time they’d punished Flash for something he’d done, he’d been on the right side of the fight. The good side, instead of being the bully. He’d been standing up for someone. 

Flash went to speak, but Cindy interrupted. “I asked him not to. I’m not out to my parents, and if I told the principal what the kid had been saying, then he’d have to tell my parents, and…” 

“You’d be outed,” Peter realised. It should have been obvious. 

“It would be a whole thing, and I don’t want that,” Cindy shook her head. 

God, the system was so fucked up. The guy would get away scot-free, no punishment for being homophobic other than a sore face for a couple of days. 

“So you just took the fall?” Ned asked, directing the question at Flash. 

“I told you,” Flash said quietly. “I’m trying to be better. Besides, the guy was an asshole.” 

“Yeah, Cindy, just for the record, did you happen to get the guy’s name?” Peter queried. “Totally hypothetical reason, of course.” 

Peter wanted to beat the shit out of him. He wouldn’t, because he made it a habit not to beat people up even if there was a valid reason for it. He would however be giving the guy a very strong talking to. A conversation about being nice to people and not being homophobic. 

“Flash punched him, he’s gotten the punishment he needs,” Cindy rolled her eyes. “Thanks, though.” 

Peter frowned, but Flash quickly came to the rescue. 

“She’s too nice,” Flash gestured to Cindy, and then turned to Peter and said matter-of-factly, “His name is Danny Martin and his homeroom teacher is Ms Garcia.” 

“Excellent,” Peter smiled. 

Cindy looked at him for a long moment before saying, “Peter.” 

“Cindy,” Peter quickly replied. 

“What are you going to do to him?” 

“Nothing,” Peter said calmly. You know. Like a liar. Cindy frowned, but said nothing in the end. It seemed she knew deep down the little shit would be getting what he deserved. 

“So that’s why I was in detention,” Flash muttered. “What about you, Leeds?” 

“You can call me Ned, y’know,” Ned reminded him. “I was in detention cause I hacked into something and the teacher caught me using my phone in class.” 

“Hacking in class,” MJ commented. “Nice.” 

“What were you hacking into?” Flash asked, intrigued. 

Peter smirked remembering the moment. He was very proud of Ned, after all. And Peter only felt mildly guilty about the whole thing. The Saturday detention wasn’t turning out too bad, in the end. Not as bad as he’d thought it would have been, in any case. 

“It may have been a government website,” his best friend admitted. Cindy’s mouth dropped open in shock. Flash looked as impressed as he did shocked. 

“Woah, badass,” Flash nodded at him. “What for?” 

“I'm afraid that’s confidential,” Ned replied. 

“You sound like a spy, or something,” Flash raised his eyebrows. “Damn, Leeds.” 

“Ned.” 

“Damn, Ned.” Flash corrected himself. 

“So that leaves…” Peter cast his gaze around to Cindy. “Hey, Cindy, what did you do to get in detention. Don’t you have like, a perfect record?” 

“Oh, I skipped school,” Cindy told them. “Hence. I’m here. With you guys.” 

“You skipped?” Peter asked. “How come? I mean—you don’t have to say anything. If you don’t want to.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Cindy replied. “I went to see my girlfriend. She’s going through a hard time right now, living in a hotel because she came out to her parents about a week ago and they didn’t accept her." 

“Oh shit,” Ned mumbled.

“Yeah, it sucks. She needed some support, so I skipped.” Cindy sighed. “Told my parents I felt really sick and went to the pharmacist to get something to help. They didn’t mind so much, then. But Mr Harrington did, so. Saturday detention.” 

“If she needs a place to stay,” Ned turned to her. “My moms would definitely welcome her in for a bit. One of them had a similar situation with her own parents back in the day, so, you know.” 

“Thank you, Ned,” Cindy replied softly.

Another hour passed, an hour of talking and bonding before anything of note came up. 

“So, about Stark…” Flash muttered. He was lying on the table then. They’d all devolved from their original positions. MJ was sat with crossed legs on the table, Ned and Cindy had somehow ended up on the floor. Flash was lying back on the table, staring at the ceiling. Peter wanted to be hanging from the ceiling, really, or sitting on top of one of the bookcases, but he knew that his friends would question it. So he stuck to pacing around the room and then balancing back in a weird contortion on his chair. 

“I do have an internship,” Peter walked toward Flash. “It’s real. Look, I can even show you a photo.” 

Technically he kind of had an internship. He did go over to the lab to fix his suits and even occasionally tinker with Tony’s suit. Tony often pretended to the actual interns that Peter was his personal intern, which Peter found quite funny. 

“A photo of what, the lab?” Flash asked, lifting his head up slightly to look at Peter. 

“No, us together,” Peter corrected. 

Flash sat up entirely to stare at Peter. “You and Tony Stark.” 

“The dude is like his dad,” Ned commented offhandedly, and Flash’s jaw dropped. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Ned, stop with that. He’s not my dad.” 

“I didn’t say he was your dad, I said he’s like your dad.” 

“Here’s the photo,” Peter passed his phone to Flash, the Photos app open to show the right photo. It was, of course, favourited, because it was one of his favourite photos of them together. “Don’t go saying it could be photoshopped or whatever.” 

Flash seemed to take in the photo he was seeing. 

Peter could have chosen from a number of photos. There were better photos of them, really. Ones that made them look closer, ones where they were practically fused together. Instead, he chose one that sold the internship idea the most. It was a photo of Tony holding a Stark Industries Internship certificate in a frame with a goofy face, whilst Peter smiled next to him. Tony’s arm was tucked around Peter’s shoulder. It had been from the early days, when they were still pretending for May’s sake that he was actually an intern. 

“Holy shit,” Flash said finally. “You really do know Tony Stark.” 

“Yup,” Peter confirmed. 

Flash stared at the picture for several more moments. “Wow, I feel like such an asshole for saying you didn’t know him all this time.”

“I mean, it is pretty unbelievable,” Peter shrugged. He wouldn’t have cared if Flash hadn’t made it such a big deal that everyone thought he was a liar. He hadn’t wanted the news to get out at all. Peter was more of a private person in that respect. 

“Trust me, I found it hard to believe when he told me,” Ned jumped into the conversation. “I still find it hard to believe when he tells me stuff now, like how he let you borrow his jumper from college cause you were cold that one time.” 

He regretted telling Ned anything. Peter covered his face in embarrassment. “Ned, please.” 

“Wait, so your father figure is actually Tony Stark?” Cindy asked. “Like, for real?”

“He’s not my father figure,” Peter complained, although he totally was. “He’s like a mentor to me, occasionally. Rarely.”

“Man. Look at that photo.” Flash said, gesturing to Peter’s phone. “He absolutely is your father figure.”

Peter showed it to MJ, then to Cindy, who awwed at it. Ned peered down at it as well and frowned.“You picked that one?” Ned said, seemingly offended by his choice. “No, dude, show the one of you guys on the couch.” 

“The couch?” Flash queried. 

“Yeah, from movie night,” Ned nodded, and then paused. “Oh, right, I forgot you don’t know. Peter goes round to watch movies with Tony every Friday.”

Peter let out a quiet groan. 

“What?!” came the chorus from Flash and Cindy. Flash looked pale. “Seriously?” 

Cindy stared at him in amusement. “And you said he wasn’t like your dad?” 

“Guys, it’s not a big deal, really,” Peter desperately tried to get the conversation to what it had been previously, but he was unsuccessful. The others clamoured for him to show them the photo of he and Tony on the couch. That had been whilst they were watching some Star Wars movie, Peter couldn’t remember which one. Flash looked like he was going to faint when he saw how Tony’s arm was tucked around Peter shoulder, leaning on the back of the couch. Pepper had taken that one. 

Eventually, somehow, the other hours passed. Flash quizzed Peter on every detail of his mentorship with Tony, and Peter struggled to avoid accidentally spilling the whole Spiderman secret. It was honestly easier to just tell the truth. With every lie, Peter got more flustered, and MJ could definitely tell. She was scrutinising his every word, Peter knew it. Cindy and Ned talked, conversing about her girlfriend and whether Ned could help out at all. Peter didn’t know for sure, but he was pretty sure Ned’s moms were going to take Cindy’s girlfriend in, at least for a couple of days until she figured out what she was going to do. 

They had an hour left of the detention, and all of them could see the light of freedom. They could taste it, like the first drop of water after a running race. The ragtag team sat on the tables, smiling at each other. Mr Harrington seemed to have forgotten about them, engrossed in his paperwork, because he hadn’t checked on them in hours. 

“So, one question remains,” Flash muttered. “What the ever-loving fuck are we going to write on our pieces of paper?” 

The pages had remained blank ever since that morning, each one getting slightly more concerning as the hours ticked by and there were still no words. No-one seemed excited to return to the letters they had to write and turn into Mr Harrington in less than an hour. 

“Some spiel about how we’ve realised we were wrong and we won’t do it again?” Cindy suggested with a sigh, resting her weight on her hands as she put them behind her, planted on the table. 

Peter shook his head slowly as he came to a realisation. “No, I think we should just do one letter.” 

“Come again?” Flash asked, raising an eyebrow at him in confusion. 

“Think about it. We do a joint one.” Peter said. “Show the bastard that through spending time together, you can form solidarity.” 

“Won’t we get in trouble?” Ned queried.

“Nah, he’ll eat it up. Teachers love group work,” Peter shrugged. “And we’ll be gone before he reads it properly.”

“What would we say?” Flash asked. 

“Oh, I’ve got something in mind,” Peter grinned. “Who should write it?” 

“You do it.” MJ said with a sly grin, staring at him. “You have the best handwriting.” 

Peter cast a glance at the others. Flash shrugged and Ned nodded.  

“No objections from me,” Cindy smiled back, passing him the pen. “Besides, you said you know what you want to write, anyway.” 

And so Peter began to write. 

Dear Mr Harrington, 

We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong…..

It took him about twenty minutes to craft his piece of writing, and they spent fifteen minutes tweaking it and making it perfect. Peter was open to any suggestions. They walked out of the library as a group as the clock gloriously — finally — hit 5pm, trudging alongside each other like soldiers from war. Light smiles passed between some of them: Cindy and Ned, MJ and Peter, Peter and Flash.

Peter turned to them as they walked through the door of the school, staring at each of these people that he’d known nothing about at the start of the day, and now felt like close friends. They stopped in the school entrance as Ned’s mom’s car pulled up to take him home. 

“So. Now we go our separate ways,” Flash muttered, glancing at his car parked in the parking lot with a sense of reluctance.

Yes, they were going home, and in that sense, they were going their separate ways. But Flash had meant more than that, had meant a metaphorical return to their previous lives, to the cliques of high school and not being friends with each other. It could have been that way. They could have decided to let the detention live as a moment in history, an untouched moment in time that they’d all remember when they caught eyes with each other in the hallways, as they opened their lockers. Flashes of memories of sharing secrets and sitting on tables and laughing until they were almost in tears. 

But Peter didn’t want to let it be just a moment, didn’t want to never speak to them again.

“No,” Peter said firmly. “Now we do things differently. Yeah?” 

There was a chorus of yeahs from the group of teenagers, quiet and poignant. Maybe it was the heat of the day, or being locked in a room with them for hours on end, but something had changed. Something vital, and not just for Peter either. It was clear that all of them had been somewhat affected, from the silence. 

Ned nodded without saying a word, and then disappeared into his mom’s car. Cindy ran over to her car with a wave at the others and hopped into it. MJ also slinked off, walking the opposite direction to where Peter would be going. He and Flash were left there, Peter standing by the stairs and Flash by his car. 

“Need a lift, Parker?” Flash asked, patting on the bonnet and clicking his car keys. He pulled open the car door. 

Peter thought about it for a second, stepped forward, and realised that his leg had healed during the detention. The sky was hazy, just starting to set, and he could walk to the Tower within about twenty minutes. 

“Nah,” Peter said. “I’ll be alright.” 

And he was, weirdly, as he walked down the football field by himself. His leg was no longer twitching and the anger that had been festering inside him at the start of the day, underlying anger at Flash, anger at the school system, anger at the world — had dissipated. 

Peter thrust his fist into the air triumphantly as he walked past the bleachers by himself. And the rest was history. Maybe when they returned to school on Monday, they’d forget the camaraderie, the secrets shared, that feeling of togetherness despite everything that they’d experienced that day in detention. But for some reason, Peter didn’t think they would.