Chapter Text
Peter Parker had always been a diligent student. Sure, he missed assignments sometimes because of his... extracurriculars—i.e., saving New York from various villains—but when Midtown High announced its new internship program, Peter had jumped at the chance. Not only was it a great opportunity to bolster his resume, but it also gave him a chance to experience something beyond the usual routine of homework, tests, and trying to stay awake during history class. Balancing Stark Industries’ labs, web-slinging patrols, and school? Peter nailed it. He was determined to prove that he could handle it all. After all, if he could manage to save the world a few times, he could definitely handle a chemistry report.
But as diligent as he had been, and as carefully as he had kept up with everything, Peter never expected the crushing disappointment that was about to hit him.
A week before final grades were due, Peter discovered something that made his stomach drop. Midtown High had been discarding the internship reports. All of those nights he had stayed up late, working on quantum physics experiments and crafting polished presentations about his time at Stark Industries—gone. Not filed. Not graded. Not even acknowledged. They had been tossed aside like they didn’t matter at all.
Peter found out purely by accident. He was sitting in his chemistry class, the familiar hum of the fluorescent lights above him mingling with the murmur of other students around the room. His focus was split between trying to finish up his report on molecular reactions and the conversation happening a few desks down. One of the senior students, a guy named Tom who was always bragging about his college prospects, was ranting to anyone who would listen.
“The college admissions guy just called me,” Tom said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Apparently, they never got my internship letter of recommendation. From Midtown! I’m telling you, they messed it up, I swear. My whole application’s messed up because of this.”
Peter blinked, his pen hovering in midair. “Wait, what?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “The recommendation letter for the internship? That doesn’t make sense.”
Tom’s rant continued in the background, but Peter’s thoughts were elsewhere now. Something didn’t add up. He knew for a fact he’d turned in every report. He’d worked hard on them, staying up late, drafting and redrafting until everything was perfect. And if Tom had his recommendation messed up, what about everyone else? Peter’s gut instinct told him something was wrong.
Later that afternoon, Peter’s curiosity got the better of him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something fishy was going on, so he decided to investigate. A quick swing through the city and a quiet landing behind the school’s administration building, and Peter was in.
Using his Spidey-senses, he quickly navigated through the dimly lit hallway of the administration office, avoiding the staff with ease. He was quiet as a mouse, and the sounds of muffled chatter from other rooms only helped him remain undetected. He reached the small office where the internship reports were supposed to be filed and peeked inside.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
The office was cluttered with paper piles, but what stood out was the shredder, still running on the far corner of the room. And near it was a stack of papers—at least a few dozen internship reports—sitting abandoned on a desk, partially covered by a messy pile of other papers.
His heart skipped a beat when he recognized one of the reports. His name was scrawled in black ink on the top sheet. He could almost feel the heat of anger rising in his chest as he stared at it.
That was his report. The one he’d stayed up all night working on. The one that should’ve been part of his academic record. And it was sitting there, forgotten, while the shredder hummed away in the corner.
Peter stepped forward cautiously, trying not to make a sound. He picked up the report with shaking hands, careful not to crumple it as he scanned the pages. It was exactly as he’d submitted it—meticulously formatted, neat, and full of the work he’d done during his internship at Stark Industries. He knew it was solid. But it didn’t matter. Someone had decided that it was no longer worth filing.
The realization hit him like a ton of bricks: those reports weren’t just lost—they were deliberately ignored. His effort, his late nights, everything he had put into that internship, had been dismissed without a second thought.
Peter stared at the stack of discarded reports, feeling both numb and furious. He hadn’t been expecting accolades or special treatment, but this? This felt like a betrayal.
He had worked harder than most people his age, juggling school and everything else, and this was what he got for it? Nothing. His eyes narrowed as he stood in the quiet office, clutching the paper. He was done being pushed aside.
A decision formed in his mind then, one that felt like both the logical and emotional choice: he couldn’t just let this slide. Peter wasn’t going to let his hard work—or anyone else’s—be ignored because some overworked administrator couldn’t be bothered. He wasn’t sure what to do next, but he knew he couldn’t leave the situation like this.
He left the report in place, not wanting to attract too much attention. But as he slipped out of the office and back into the school hallway, Peter knew he’d have to do something about it. He was Spider-Man, and he couldn’t stand by while the system took advantage of students like this. Whatever it took, he would find a way to make it right.
Peter burst into the kitchen at the Stark Tower later that evening, his face flushed with indignation. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his normally calm demeanor was replaced with an unmistakable mix of frustration and disbelief. Tony Stark was sitting at the counter, casually tapping at a tablet with one hand while nursing a whiskey glass with the other. Pepper Potts sat nearby, flipping through a stack of documents for the next board meeting, looking poised and collected as always.
Peter didn’t waste any time with pleasantries. “They’re trashing our internship reports!” he exclaimed, practically bursting out the words as he stormed into the room.
Tony looked up from his tablet, a confused furrow in his brow. “Wait, what? Midtown is just… throwing them out?”
Peter, barely able to contain his frustration, nodded emphatically. “Yes! I put hours into that report! All that work—gone! Just… discarded. Like it didn’t even matter. Teachers are supposed to help you, not sabotage you!” His voice cracked slightly with disbelief as he slumped into the nearest chair at the kitchen table, running a hand through his hair.
Pepper, who had been quietly reading through the papers, raised an eyebrow at Peter’s outburst. She looked up at him, her expression one of disbelief at the level of unprofessionalism. “That’s wildly inappropriate and unprofessional,” she said, her voice calm but laced with the weight of her disapproval.
Peter nodded vehemently, his anger still simmering. “I mean, seriously! I’ve been busting my ass, trying to balance everything, and this is what I get? Like it’s not bad enough I’m already juggling school, internships, and Spider-Man duties… now I have to deal with this garbage?”
Tony leaned back in his chair, swirling the drink in his glass, clearly intrigued by the situation. His lips quirked into a small smirk, an all-too-familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, sounds like it’s time to lawyer up,” he said, as if the solution was the most obvious thing in the world.
Peter blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait, what? Lawyer up? I’m just trying to figure out why they would even do this, not get caught up in some legal mess…”
Tony waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, kid. It’s simple. If they’re actively destroying your reports, that’s not just unprofessional—it’s illegal. And if they’re doing this to other students too? Well, that’s a whole new ballgame.” He took a long sip of his drink, his eyes narrowing as he thought through the implications.
Pepper set the stack of documents down on the counter and gave Tony a pointed look. “You’re serious?”
Tony, always a fan of bending the rules to his advantage, nodded casually. “Hey, when someone’s messing with my people’s hard work? I don’t take that lightly.” He leaned forward, a look of determination creeping onto his features. “If Midtown wants to mess around, we’ll make sure they regret it.”
Peter, still a bit dazed by Tony’s suggestion, shot him a skeptical glance. “I don’t know, Tony. That feels a bit… over the top. I just want to get the reports back, you know? I’m not looking for some huge confrontation.”
Pepper’s voice softened, understanding the frustration but also the importance of Peter’s perspective. “I get it, Peter,” she said. “But this isn’t just about your report. It's about the other students as well. You have every right to know why this happened and make sure it doesn’t continue.”
Peter ran his hands through his hair again, trying to process everything. His mind raced through the hours of work he’d put into his internship, the late nights, the careful editing. It had meant something to him—something bigger than just a grade. This wasn’t just about one report. It was about his future, his hard-earned accomplishments being tossed aside. It was about respect.
He looked at Tony, then Pepper, his jaw tightening with resolve. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “This isn’t just about me. This is about... everything I’ve worked for.”
Tony grinned, clearly pleased with Peter’s shift in attitude. “That’s the spirit. And don’t worry—if you need a lawyer, you’ve got one,” he added, a little too smugly.
Peter raised an eyebrow, skeptical but also grateful for the backup. “I don’t think I need to go that far, but… I’m definitely going to find out what happened. This isn’t over.”
Pepper gave him a reassuring nod. “We’ll help however we can, Peter. You’re not in this alone.”
Peter stood up from the chair, a new sense of determination in his step. He was used to dealing with a lot—bad guys, deadlines, balancing his superhero life and his student life—but this? This was personal. And if Midtown High thought they could just throw away his hard work, they were in for a surprise.
“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” Peter said, his voice steadier now. “And I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
Tony raised his glass in mock salute. “Atta boy. I knew you had it in you.”
Pepper smiled and glanced at Tony. “Well, now that that’s settled, maybe we can focus on saving the world... one lawsuit at a time.”
Peter couldn’t help but smile. It was comforting, knowing that no matter how chaotic his life got, he had people like Tony and Pepper in his corner. And with their support, he’d face whatever came next—head-on.
By the next week, Tony’s legal team descended on Midtown High like a storm. Pepper, armed with her signature calm-but-terrifying aura, led the charge, cutting through the administrative red tape with surgical precision. When she walked into the principal’s office, there was a palpable shift in the air, like the temperature had dropped several degrees. The principal, a man who usually exuded a sense of control, suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights as Pepper set her gaze on him.
"You’re depriving students of opportunities they’ve earned," Pepper said sharply, her voice cool but lethal. "You think that’s going to go unnoticed?"
The principal stammered, clearly not used to being on the receiving end of this kind of scrutiny. "I-I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding, Mrs. Potts. These reports were... misplaced. It was all an oversight—"
"Misplaced?" Pepper interrupted, her tone unforgiving. "You do realize these are not just reports, they’re the futures of your students. If you think dismissing them is a mere ‘oversight,’ then perhaps you need to reconsider your position here."
The teachers responsible for discarding the internship reports tried to defend their actions, offering flimsy justifications about "administrative mistakes" and "overwhelming workloads." But Tony’s lawyers were relentless, tearing apart every excuse with legal expertise and an unnerving level of calm. The entire situation had quickly turned from a minor inconvenience to a full-blown crisis for the school, and it was clear that the powers at Midtown High had vastly underestimated the resources Tony Stark could bring to bear.
Tony himself was less involved in the details—his lawyers were handling most of it—but he kept his finger on the pulse, showing up periodically to make sure everything was moving in the right direction. Every time he entered the room, his presence made an immediate impact. He had a way of subtly reminding people that they were playing on his turf now, not the other way around.
Within days, it wasn’t just the principal and a few teachers who were caught in the crossfire. The school board was brought into the fold, with everyone from the superintendent to board members sitting down in tense meetings. They quickly realized they had severely underestimated how far Tony Stark would go to defend his people.
The school board issued a public apology, one that seemed almost desperate in its sincerity. They reinstated all the internship credits, retroactively grading and filing every report that had been discarded. Midtown High also promised sweeping reforms to their oversight procedures, making it clear they would never again let something like this slip through the cracks.
But for Peter, the apology and the reforms weren’t enough. He had already made up his mind. He had grown disillusioned with the system, with the bureaucracy that seemed more concerned with its own inefficiencies than with the students who were supposed to benefit from it. Watching his hard work be disregarded so casually had lit a fire in him—one that wasn’t so easily extinguished by a few words and promises.
Tony, sensing Peter’s frustration, made a suggestion one evening when they were alone in the tower. “You know, kid, I’ve been thinking…” he began casually, his voice carrying the hint of something bigger coming. “We could pull some strings and get your records reviewed for early graduation. You’ve earned it, with your grades, your internship, your everything. If Midtown can’t see that, it’s their loss.”
Peter, still processing everything that had happened, raised an eyebrow. “You really think they’ll go for it?”
Tony gave a shrug that seemed almost too nonchalant for someone of his status. “With my name on the line? They don’t have much of a choice. Besides, you’ve got stellar grades—even if you’ve had a few ‘Spider-Man absences.’” He smirked. “Trust me. It’s already done.”
True to Tony’s word, the gears began turning quickly. Midtown High didn’t exactly argue when they were presented with Peter’s request. In fact, they were eager to resolve the situation quickly after the mess with the internship reports. His records were reviewed, his grades analyzed, and within two weeks, Peter found himself walking across a makeshift stage at a hastily arranged ceremony, receiving his high school diploma.
May had been cautious at first about the whole idea, worried about the implications of Peter skipping out on the remaining high school experience, but she smiled proudly as she watched him stand there, officially graduated, with Tony and Pepper beside her. Peter had earned this. He had worked harder than most adults—balancing school, a high-stakes internship, and being Spider-Man—and if the world didn’t recognize it, well, that didn’t matter anymore. He was moving on, and his future was wide open.
At the dinner later that evening, hosted by Tony and Pepper in the Stark Tower penthouse, Peter found himself surrounded by friends and mentors who had supported him through it all. Tony raised his glass in a toast.
"To Peter Parker," Tony said, his voice loud enough for the entire table to hear. "The first official graduate of Midtown High, Class of ‘25. Let’s just hope he doesn’t end up in a supervillain's lair on his first day of adulthood."
The room erupted in laughter, but Peter couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride. He was done with high school—done with the system that had let him down—and ready to face the world, his way.
He smiled, looking around at the faces of the people who had believed in him, who had always had his back. “Thanks, everyone,” Peter said quietly, before raising his own glass. "Here’s to what’s next."