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˚₊𓆩༺🕸️ ༻𓆪₊˚
Peter had been feeling under the weather ever since that morning. His head was pounding with a dull, persistent ache, and his muscles ached like he’d just fought a villain instead of slept in his bed. Now, he sat slouched at his desk next to Ned, trying his best to focus on the teacher’s monotone lecture about chemical reactions, something Peter already knew front to back.
He coughed quietly into his elbow, trying not to draw attention, but Ned glanced over at him anyway, his expression tightening with concern.
“Hey, dude,” Ned whispered, leaning closer. “You feeling okay?”
Peter nodded slowly, rubbing at his temples as if that could ease the pressure building in his skull. “Yeah, just feeling a bit… underneath the weather,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. “Headache’s killing me.”
Ned gave him a look but didn’t press further. Just then, the teacher clapped her hands once to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone, moving on. Please take out your watch glasses and place them on your tables. We’ll be working with crystal powder today.”
Ned grabbed his watch glass from the equipment tray and set it carefully in front of him. Then he nudged Peter with his elbow.
Peter blinked at him, confused for a second, then registered what was happening. “Oh, uhm, right.” He reached over to grab his watch glass, but his grip was a little too firm. When he placed it down, he didn’t realize just how hard he’d slammed it.
CRACK.
The table split clean down the middle with a horrible crunching sound. Both halves collapsed to the floor, taking books, lab materials, and watch glasses with them. Peter and Ned leapt back just in time to avoid getting hit by the falling debris.
The entire classroom fell silent.
Every head turned. Every eye locked onto Peter and Ned, who were frozen, standing above the wreckage, trying and failing to look innocent.
Peter winced. “Oops.”
The teacher stood at the front, jaw slightly agape, clearly unsure what to say. After a moment, she cleared her throat awkwardly. “Uhm… I guess that table was a bit old. Just… take a seat in the back, Leeds and Parker.”
“S-sure,” both boys muttered quickly before scurrying to the back of the classroom, sitting down at an empty desk.
Ned leaned in, whispering harshly. “What the heck just happened?!”
“I don’t know!” Peter whispered back, eyes wide. “I don’t think I can control my strength right now.”
“Well, just don’t touch anything else,” Ned hissed, glancing nervously at the rest of the class, who were still openly staring at them.
“I wasn’t trying to!” Peter hissed back.
“Okay, okay, chill, I’ve got this. I’ll just do everything for you.” Ned reached over to grab two new watch glasses, placing one gently in front of Peter and one in front of himself.
At the front of the room, the teacher, still clearly rattled, tried to pull herself together and moved back to the whiteboard. “Right… uh… so. Now take the crystal powder from the bag and sprinkle a small amount into your watch glass. Then take a test tube and add solution A1 to it.”
Ned did as instructed, carefully adding the powder to both watch glasses, then glanced around for the test tubes.
“Hey, Pete,” he whispered. “Could you pass me two test tubes?”
“Yeah,” Peter murmured, trying to keep it together. He reached over to the tray beside him and picked up two test tubes. But the moment his fingers closed around the thin glass, he felt them shatter in his hand.
CRACK—
Tiny shards flew out in every direction. A few pieces even scattered across the desk and onto the floor. Peter hissed in pain as he instinctively pulled his hand back. Blood immediately began dripping from his palm, sharp, red streaks blooming across his skin.
“Oh my god—” Ned gasped. “Peter, you’re bleeding—!”
Peter’s breath caught in his throat as he quickly curled his fingers into a fist, cradling his injured hand against his chest. The sting of the cuts radiated up his arm, hot and sharp, but it wasn’t half as bad as the sudden wave of dizziness that washed over him. His head spun, the edges of his vision dimming for a heartbeat before clearing again.
“I’m fine—” he muttered automatically, though the words came out weak and shaky.
“You’re not fine!” Ned hissed, his eyes darting toward the front of the room. “You’re—”
The teacher had stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the broken glass and the drops of crimson falling onto the floor. “Peter Parker, what on earth?!”
Peter instinctively took a step back, his chair scraping loudly against the tile. “It’s fine, just a little cut,” he said again, though his voice cracked. He pressed his bleeding hand tighter against his hoodie pocket, hoping no one would notice how much it was actually dripping. The last thing he needed was people realizing he was stronger than he should be and clumsily breaking school property in the span of five minutes.
The truth was, his whole body felt… off. His strength was slipping out without him even trying, his control evaporating every time he reached for something. His muscles were tense, twitchy, and his feverish head made it impossible to gauge his own force. Normally, he could measure his grip down to the ounce. Now? It was like trying to type with numb fingers, he knew what he wanted to do, but his body wasn’t listening.
“Parker, nurse’s office. Now,” the teacher said, her tone sharp enough to break through his haze.
Peter opened his mouth to protest, but Ned was already standing, scooping Peter’s backpack off the floor and shoving it toward him. “C’mon,” Ned muttered under his breath, “before you break the door or something.”
Peter groaned softly but followed, weaving between the rows of desks with his uninjured hand shoved deep in his pocket to keep from accidentally brushing against anything fragile. Every step felt heavier, his legs leaden and clumsy. He kept his head down, aware of the whispers following them out the door.
As soon as they were in the hallway, Ned gave him a sidelong look. “Dude, you’re burning up,” he whispered. “You seriously think this is just a headache?”
“I’m fine,” Peter repeated, though his voice was hoarse and low. “I just… I can’t tell how strong I’m being right now. It’s like, my body’s on autopilot, and the autopilot is set to ‘wreck everything.’”
“That’s… not reassuring,” Ned muttered. “You think maybe you should, I dunno, not be at school?”
Peter snorted weakly. “And miss chem? No way.”
Ned rolled his eyes but didn’t push further as they reached the nurse’s door. He gave Peter a small shove inside.
The nurse looked up from her desk, clearly startled to see the blood still dripping from Peter’s hand. “Oh, good heavens, sit down. Now.”
Peter lowered himself into the chair by the cot, wincing as she began pulling out disinfectant and bandages. His head swam again, his vision swimming briefly before settling. He clenched his jaw, trying not to let the room’s spinning show.
It was going to be a long day if his body kept betraying him like this.
The nurse patched up his hand with the brisk efficiency of someone who’d dealt with more paper cuts and playground scrapes than she could count. Still, she kept frowning at him, clearly unconvinced by his repeated assurances that he was “fine.”
By the time she sent him back, the warning bell for third period. gym, was already ringing.
“Uh, can’t I just… skip?” Peter muttered as he and Ned trudged toward the locker rooms.
“You know Coach will hunt you down if you don’t show,” Ned said. “And honestly, I think he likes it when people try to get out of dodge.”
Peter groaned. His head was pounding, his skin clammy, his muscles aching like lead. The last thing he needed right now was to accidentally throw someone into the bleachers because his strength control was shot.
-
They stepped into the gym to the sound of sneakers squeaking on polished floors. Coach Henderson stood midcourt, blowing his whistle like it owed him money.
“Alright, people, today’s all about teamwork! Dodgeball tournament, grab a colored vest and get lined up!”
Peter slipped into a red vest, keeping to the back, hoping if he stayed quiet, no one would notice him.
The whistle blew.
Balls flew.
Peter dodged the first one easily, too easily, and caught the next without thinking. It felt almost weightless in his hands. He tried to toss it toward an opponent, aiming for a nice, gentle throw.
Only… his fever-fogged brain forgot to limit the throw.
WHOOSH, CRACK!
The ball shot across the court like a missile, completely bypassed the kid he was aiming at, and punched straight through the drywall behind him. A neat, perfectly round hole appeared, dust crumbling down around it.
The gym went silent except for the ball’s faint thud as it landed somewhere in the equipment closet on the other side.
Everyone turned to stare at Peter.
His stomach dropped. “Uh… my bad?” he offered weakly.
Coach Henderson blinked at the wall, then at Peter, then back at the wall. “Parker… what the hell are you eating for breakfast?”
Peter’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Ned was trying and failing not to laugh beside him.
“You’re… you’re buying the school a new wall,” Coach muttered finally, rubbing his temples. “Get back in line. And maybe just… don’t throw anything else.”
Peter nodded quickly, shoving his hands into his vest pockets, his face burning. He kept his head down for the rest of the game, doing everything possible to avoid touching another ball.
The rest of gym dragged on like wet cement, with Peter trying to blend in at the back of the class. His head was still throbbing, his fever hadn’t gone down, and every muscle felt jittery and overcharged. He was desperate to finish without another accident.
But then the gym doors opened.
Every single head turned when Tony Stark walked in, sunglasses on, looking like he’d taken a wrong turn out of a photoshoot. He had a quick, low conversation with Coach Henderson before his gaze found Peter.
“Parker,” the coach called, voice carrying. “You’re going home.”
Peter blinked. “Uh, what? Why?”
Tony cut in, strolling forward. “Because when you throw a dodgeball through a wall, kid, that’s the universal sign you’re done for the day.” His tone was light, but his eyes said we’re talking about this.
Whispers erupted immediately.
“Wait, did he just call him kid?”
“No way, Peter knows Tony Stark?”
“They look kind of alike…”
Peter ducked his head, cheeks burning. “It was an accident,” he muttered as Tony steered him toward the doors.
-
They almost made it without further incident. Almost.
A custodian was ahead of them, pushing a cart stacked with folding tables through the hallway. One table started to slide, tipping toward a group of students. Without thinking, Peter bolted forward and caught the edge, stopping the table with one hand like it weighed nothing.
The custodian stared. “Uh… thanks, kid.”
Peter tried to play it off, but the damage was done. Several kids had seen it.
“Dude, he didn’t even flinch.”
“That’s not normal.”
“Are you, are you, like, Tony Stark’s superhero kid or something?”
Peter froze.
Tony stepped in smoothly, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Superhero kid? No. My kid? Yeah. And if you keep gawking, I’ll start charging admission.”
A stunned silence fell over the hallway.
“Wait, Tony Stark is your dad?!” someone blurted.
Peter groaned. “Surprise.”
Tony leaned down just enough for only Peter to hear. “Well, the cat’s out of the bag. Hope you’re ready for your Monday to get weirder.”
Peter muttered back, “This is so your fault.”
-
The whispers about Peter being Tony Stark’s kid were still all around, when the fire alarm blared through the school. At first, everyone assumed it was another drill. But the ground shook hard enough to rattle the windows, and then the sound of tearing metal made everyone in the gym freeze.
The side doors slammed open, and in walked a towering man in heavy armor, his helmet shaped like a jagged skull.
“STARK!” the villain bellowed, voice booming through the gym. “Where’s your old man?”
Peter’s stomach sank. Of course.
He looked around for his dad, who he had apparently been separated from, but couldn’t see him.
Great. Just great.
The villain’s gaze swept the students and then locked on the bleachers where most of the class had scrambled to hide. “Guess I’ll just get his attention,” he snarled, stomping over. With a single kick, he sent the massive metal stands toppling forward, straight toward the crowd of kids.
Peter didn’t think. He couldn’t. In a flash, he was there, arms out, bracing himself beneath the full weight of the bleachers. The impact knocked the wind out of him, but he held.
Gasps erupted.
“Holy—”
“Did he just—?”
“He’s holding the entire thing!”
Peter’s feet slid across the polished gym floor, but he managed to shove the bleachers back upright. Dozens of wide-eyed classmates scrambled to safety.
The villain tilted his head, studying him. “Huh. Guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
Peter’s heart stopped. “What?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb, SpiderMan,” the man said with a sneer. “You’ve got your old man’s stubborn streak.”
The words hit the room like a bomb.
“Wait, SpiderMan?!” someone shouted.
“Tony Stark is his dad and he’s SpiderMan?!”
“Dude, what the—”
Peter felt every eye on him, his pulse roaring in his ears.
Before he could react, repulsor blasts lit up the gym. The villain staggered back as Tony Stark himself strode in, helmet snapping into place. He planted himself between Peter and the threat without missing a beat.
“You picked the wrong parent-teacher day,” Tony growled at the attacker.
Peter mumbled under his breath, “It’s not even parent-teacher day, and you came here to pick me up because of the wall thing..”
“Details,” Tony said, glancing back at him for the quickest second. “We’ll talk about the bleacher thing later.”
The fight didn’t stay contained to the gym. The villain smashed through the far wall, spilling the chaos into the courtyard. Students streamed out the other exits, shouting and filming on their phones.
Tony fired off a series of repulsor blasts, forcing the armored man back, but the guy was relentless, shrugging off hit after hit.
Peter darted around Tony, ignoring his father’s sharp, “Stay behind me!” He leapt onto the villain’s back, webbing the man’s helmet down over his eyes before yanking hard to send him stumbling forward.
“You little—!” the villain roared, tearing at the webbing.
Peter didn’t give him the chance to recover. His hands moved on instinctx two quick thwips to the guy’s legs, one to the ground, and a final burst of strength as he slammed the man flat onto the pavement with a grunt. The crowd gasped at the sheer force of the impact.
The villain didn’t get up.
Peter was breathing hard now, far harder than the fight should have warranted. His chest burned. His head felt light. He staggered a step back, hand clutching at his ribs.
“Pete?” Tony’s voice was sharper than usual.
Peter opened his mouth to answer, but the world tilted violently. The noise of the crowd muffled into a low hum. His knees buckled.
He collapsed, catching himself on one palm before even that gave way.
The last thing he registered before his vision tunneled was Tony’s armor disengaging with a snap, the sound of repulsors shutting down, and his father’s voice cutting through the chaos, pure panic now.
“Peter! Hey, eyes open, kid. That’s an order.”
The phones kept recording. Students kept whispering. But Tony didn’t care. He scooped Peter up like he weighed nothing, shouting for FRIDAY to call the jet and for the rest of the Avengers to clear the area.
˚₊𓆩༺ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ༻𓆪₊˚
The sterile white lights buzzed faintly overhead as Peter’s eyelids fluttered open, heavy as if weighted with exhaustion. The world around him was blurry at first, shapes and colors bleeding into one another like a fading watercolor. His muscles ached deeply, every movement demanding effort he wasn’t sure he had. A faint metallic taste lingered in his mouth, and his throat was raw and parched.
Slowly, his gaze settled on the familiar faces leaning over him, Tony Stark’s sharp blue eyes, etched with relief and worry, and Pepper Potts, her soft smile unable to hide the concern that shadowed her features.
“Well, look who finally decided to join us,” Tony said quietly, his voice low and warm, laced with the kind of relief only a parent could feel after fearing the worst. “You gave us all a pretty big scare.”
Pepper nodded, reaching out to brush damp strands of hair away from Peter’s forehead. Her touch was gentle, soothing. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, sweetheart.”
Peter tried to speak, but his throat protested with a harsh cough that rattled through his chest. Tony was quick to bring a small cup of water to his lips.
“Easy there,” Tony murmured, watching carefully as Peter sipped the water. “You’re still pretty weak.”
Peter swallowed slowly, trying to steady his voice. “What… what happened? How long was I out?”
Pepper exchanged a glance with Tony before replying. “You were out for several hours, Peter. We didn’t want to wake you.”
Tony sighed, folding his arms as he regarded his son. “The school… yeah, they found out about the fight. About everything.”
Peter’s brows furrowed, a spike of panic rising in his chest. “Did… did they tell everyone? The students? The media?”
Tony gave a small, reassuring smile but the weight behind it was real. “It got out quicker than we hoped. Videos, rumors, you name it. But we managed to get the school to sign NDAs. Nobody’s talking. At least not officially.”
A slow breath escaped Peter’s lips, the tension easing from his shoulders just a bit.
Pepper’s eyes softened as she squeezed his hand. “We’ve been worried about why you were so sick that day. We thought maybe it was just a cold, or the flu…”
Tony’s tone grew more serious. “Turns out, you were already running a fever and fighting something before the villain showed up. Whatever infection or toxin was messing with your body, it made controlling your strength and stamina almost impossible.”
Peter’s mind raced back to that morning, his pounding headache, the muscle aches, the way his strength had betrayed him during class and gym. “So that’s why I kept losing control. Why I slammed the table and threw that ball through the wall.”
“Exactly,” Tony said, his voice firm but understanding. “You weren’t just tired or off your game. Your body was fighting something that made it harder to keep your powers in check.”
Pepper’s gaze never left Peter’s face. “And despite everything, you still saved those kids today. You’re incredibly strong, Peter. But you don’t have to carry all of this alone.”
Peter’s lips twitched into a tired, grateful smile. “Guess being Iron Man’s kid comes with more than just tech and cool suits.”
Tony chuckled softly, then grew more serious. “It also comes with the responsibility to know when to ask for help. When to take care of yourself.”
Peter nodded slowly, exhaustion weighing heavy on him again. “I just… I didn’t want to let anyone down.”
“You never do,” Pepper said firmly. “But sometimes, letting us help is the best way to be strong.”
Tony reached forward and ruffled Peter’s damp hair affectionately. “We’ve got a lot to figure out, how to get you back to 100%, how to keep your secret safe, and how to make sure this never happens again.”
Peter closed his eyes, feeling safe for the first time in hours. “Thanks… for not giving up on me.”
Tony smiled, voice low and steady. “Never. You’re my son. And that means everything.”