Chapter Text
You would think that a school for geniuses, such as Midtown High, would host kids smart enough not to look down upon others. Alas, to learn costs money and not as many scholarships as needed can be given away. Those with a strike of luck getting financial support, is of course — because such is the nature of man — bullied relentlessly, and when you happen to have the most prestigious scholarship of them all, you get the worst of it.
It could also be his nerdy look, quiet nature or submissive response that made Peter Parker the ultimate target for bullies. He never fought back, never told anyone and always denied questions from teachers and staff. While his family certainly noticed the bruises and would nurse them with utmost care, they believed him when he told them he got hurt on patrol.
The truth was shameful and pointless anyway; what could superheroes do against irresponsible teenagers? They would either do too much, or not be able to do anything at all. Though, the press would love any opportunity to drag the heroes through the dirt. If Peter didn’t take the bullying, someone else would. Someone without super-healing or a good excuse.
He did what he had to do, right?
If it could protect someone else—
went through his head as it was slammed into the locker, the last student in the corridor hurrying out of the hall. Splitting headache twisting his features as his brain tried to distract him.
If Ned would be safe—
A hard kick in the stomach made him hunch over in pain. Hard boots colliding with his sternum, making his breath hitch. Kick after kick until his knees gave way and he fell to the dirty floor. A brief pause as someone laughed before stomping on his face. Hard. Don’t fight back. He could hurt them badly and then his secret would be out. It wasn’t worth it.
“Think you’re so perfect, Penis?“ Flash’s voice ran clear through the empty corridor, making Peter’s sensitive ears reverberate with pain. “That everyone loves you, even though you’re just a poor, good-for-nothin’ orphan? Because that's not fucking true! Everyone can see how false you are. Fucking worthless.” The stupid words should have been nothing more than white noise after all the times they’d been shouted at him and punched into him, but something inside still twisted. He knew that Flash was right, because how could anyone love him, when he had the blood of so many on his hands? His parents, Ben, May…
One of the sidekicks said something and Flash huffed out a laugh.
“You hear that Penis? Joe said you’ve even managed to kill your aunt now. Do you enjoy hurting your family or somethin’?” A punch to his jaw, Flash now sitting beside him, evil smirk in place.
Shit. Those words hurt, no matter if it came from a spoiled brat like Flash. How did he always know what hurt the most to hear? It was like all his brain capacity had been focused on that task alone, leaving all other parts empty. Not that Peter didn’t deserve it, though, for what he’d done.
Peter pressed shaking hands to his ears, trying to block out the comments and stop the panic slowly swallowing his body. He could not get a sensory overload. Those hurt like hell. He winced when the group laughed about something, trying to calm down. It would be so fucking embarrassing to have a panic attack right now, and Flash would never stop teasing him about it.
“Hold his feet,” said the leader as he smirked at Peter. He got a pair of wide, unbelieving eyes in answer. Only a second later, the smaller boy could feel himself being dragged backwards and held against the wall, uneven flooring ripping his clothes and a sharp edge of cement cutting into his back. His Spidey-sense had been going haywire since the gang got closer to him after class, but now the warning was a quiet scream of help, to which no one answered. Why would they?
A fist connected with his face and at the same time kicks landed all over his body. Fuck. Then a sharp pain reverberated through his body. FUCK. How would he explain a cracked bone? Real injuries usually only happened on high-stake missions, as no mere robber could get through his Spidey-sense. So, he could either hope for something big tonight, or miss the Avengers’ game tour. Though, the crack should heal by tomorrow and he could probably hide it this evening. It would be more suspicious if he missed the Mario Kart tournament, than him being sore.
His mind spaced out as he received more kicks, thinking of the blueprints and new designs he was working on in the lab. Karen had said that he could be done with his project by the weekend if he worked consistently on it. He would show it to Ned and they could—
A particularly hard shove and then the absence of more made him aware of his surroundings. He’d managed to send a message to Happy saying he would be late, but he didn’t know how long it would take before the man came in to get him.
Body aching and lungs fighting to provide air. Come on lungs! You’re supposed to be breathing! Breathing? Oh, you mean that thing we used to do before becoming airless sacks of trauma?
Not helpful. Though you have to admit; that was quite funny. Right? Peter was not sure if his body was trying to convey a message or if he was really totally screwed. Probably both.
Anyway, he was still laying on the floor of the school hallway. With a sigh that only made his chest hurt more and him question his every life choice, he rolled over and stood up.
Mask on.
-
When his son came in, favouring his right foot over the left, Tony Stark sighed, but barely batted an eye. Peter hadn’t gotten hurt often before, but the new leveling up to more high scale crimes was clearly taking its toll. He got FRIDAY to check constantly with Karen and warn him of anything too bad. Yet nothing had triggered the system, in spite of what Tony could see with his own eyes. He hated being in the dark and not knowing if his son was okay. The boy always brushed off any concerns, claiming them as unnecessary.
The line was crossed one Thursday when he got home for Family Evening in the tower; his breath uneven and walking just a tad too much off balance.
Tony could see Nat narrowing her eyes at her ребенок-паук as he carefully sat down on the sofa beside her, head on her shoulder and feet in Clint’s lap. The two spies’ eyes met over him, silently conversing as they could. Hawkeye's usually playful demeanor was changed to serious, brows furrowed in confusion.
“So Pete, any Spider-Man:ing today?” he said, making an effort to keep his voice light and careful. Peter shrugged.
“Nope. Can’t miss out on a chance to beat you guys at Mario Kart.” He smirked as Sam huffed out a laugh.
“Hey! I’m gonna beat you too uncle Sam, don’t celebrate just yet.” It was probably true — Peter’s “Spidey-sense” as he called it, seemed to be a free win card every time.
Another quick glance between the spies made Clint clear his throat discreetly before asking:
“You sure? With that limp you’ve got there?” Peter tensed slightly, drawing to him the attention of two super soldiers on the couches. Both scanning for injuries on their youngest family member, chatter around them quieting down. Peter huffed out a laugh.
“It’s nothing! Just met some annoying robbers last night while patrolling, didn’t even notice it before I got home.”
Well that was a lie. Peter had in fact not been hurt yesterday, but full of his usual energy and jumping around the penthouse. The rest of the room seemed to realise the same, because they all looked up and exchanged concerned glances.
Was he hiding an injury again? He could in fact hack the suit, to which the Avengers didn’t know the full extent of, but probably good enough to hide a particularly nasty fight.
Before anyone could utter as much as a word, the spider jumped up from his position and dragged Sam with him to the kitchen.
“Help me get some snacks! An’ please put the game on, FRI.”
Danger evaded. For now.
High schools really should have more security. A few seconds of processing by FRIDAY and they were inside the camera database of Midtown School of Science and Technology.
“Sir, I believe there are several interesting files here,” FRIDAY reported. Tony nodded.
“Show me.”
Two hours later, Tony was fuming with rage as he marched over to the assembled Avengers in their main common room.
Peter being shoved down the stairs, knocked over and tripped by a raised leg. Peter being slammed into lockers and called names, given mean comments or unmasked threats. Some boys holding his arm behind his back until a sick crack was heard, making Peter gasp. Countless harassment, snide remarks and thefts — not because they wanted a new jacket, or pair shoes, but to stamp on it and destroy them in front of their owner.
Not once did he fight back, or even react with more than small noises of pain slipping out. He could have punched a hole through every single student in that school, but never even tried to defend himself.
Some videos showed other kids being picked on, only to run away when Peter came. He would shout at the bullies, some of his righteousness showing without the mask, and make them focus on him instead. It never got pretty after that, but he seemed more resigned to it, an unfaltering will never slipping.
Not once did someone try to help, not since Ned changed schools years ago.
“Fuck it!” Clint shouted out in the quiet room. Eyes blazing and body vibrating with rage.
“Those kids are fucking DEAD!” His fist made a dull noise on the table as he slammed it down, too angry to notice the pain. Slowly, the others woke up from the terrifying haze in which they had looked at the videos, turning his way. A moment of quiet, when everyone tried to compose themselves, before the numb looks turned deadly.
“How long has this been going on FRIDAY?”, someone asked.
“Since the start of this school sir.”