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Ever since the decathlon trip to Stark Industries, school felt like it had been flipped upside down. Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic. Classes were still the same. Teachers were still the same. And like ninety-five percent of the rest of the school population — the ones who weren’t on the academic decathlon team — were completely unaffected. All thanks to Flash Thompson and Peter Parker. And technically… just Flash, when Jason thought about it critically like his mom had told him to.
He’d gotten a letter sent home from Principal Morita and Mr. Harrington after the field trip — one that had to be signed and returned to administration, along with a handwritten apologies to Stark Industries and Peter Parker for their behavior. Flash, Gianna, and Brad had gotten the same. On top of that, the four of them were required to attend a mediation session after school hours with their parents and the administration where they would hand deliver the letters and behavior code of conduct.
To say his mom was unhappy when she found out he’d been a bully was an understatement. For the next two weeks, he was grounded. His phone had been swapped for a flip phone he swore was from the early two-thousands, and with the exception of track practice and decathlon meetings, he was to come straight home after school. All he would have to look forward to was homework, dinner, and then bed.
It sucked. Bad. Especially considering Flash’s parents didn’t even seem to care, and really, Flash was the one who’d started most of it.
Which, in hindsight… Jason felt kind of stupid, because Peter hadn’t actually done anything to anyone. Truthfully, Jason had never even heard him talk about working with Tony Stark or Stark Industries unless Flash brought it up first. Maybe Jason had been a little bitter that if it weren’t for Peter, he’d be ranked second in the sophomore class instead of third. Maybe he didn’t love knowing he had virtually no chance at being valedictorian or salutatorian unless MJ or Peter decided to drop out — which didn’t seem likely.
“Dude, are you even listening to me?”
Flash kicked him from under the lunch table, and Jason blinked back into focus.
“Huh?”
“I saaaaid,” Flash huffed, “do you think Tony Stark will actually be there tonight?”
The expression on Flash’s face was hard to read. If Jason were Flash, he wouldn’t want the billionaire superhero there. Actually, he wasn’t Flash, and even he was dreading the mediation meeting scheduled for tonight.
“Do you want him to be?” Brad raised a brow, voicing Jason’s exact thought.
“I mean — I don’t really care if he is,” Flash said.
It was a lie. The look Brad gave Jason made it clear they both knew it.
“I just think it’d be a waste of his time. We could’ve just emailed letters to Stark Industries or he could send an intern or something to collect them,” Flash added with a shrug, trying to play it cool.
He was failing.
Jason glanced briefly over at Gianna, who, instead of sitting with them, had chosen to sit with Betty and Amanda. They were at the opposite end of the long lunch table from MJ, Peter, and Ned, but technically it was all one group. Which left Jason, Flash, and Brad as their own trio.
Maybe Gia had the right idea.
All Flash had talked about for the last week was how unfair everything was. How he hadn’t meant to hurt Peter during the lab session. How it had been an accident. Jason believed that part — mostly. But he was over it. He was tired of hearing about Peter Parker. Peter hadn’t even been at school for half of last week, and somehow Flash still found a way to bring him up in every conversation. It was exhausting.
“Well, my mom seems to think he is. Which is why she’s coming tonight instead of my dad — she’s a big fan,” Brad said, popping a fry into his mouth. “She calls him her hall pass.”
He shudders.
Jason laughed. “Does your mom know he’s engaged?”
“The whole world does. She’s married anyway. I think that’s the point of a hall pass, right?” Brad shrugged.
“My mom’s pissed she has to come tonight,” Jason muttered, pushing the mushy green beans around on his styrofoam tray. “She was supposed to pick up a shift, but now she has to get it covered.”
“Flash, is your mom or dad coming?” Brad asked.
They all knew about the divorce and how it sort of sucked for their friend, but Jason had a feeling it was worse than Flash ever let on. He didn’t talk about home much anymore.
“It’s my mom’s week,” Flash said, eyes fixed on his pizza slice. “So her.”
The conversation fizzled after that, shifting to the English class they shared next period and whether any of them had actually understood the rhetorical analysis Miss Pruitt had assigned.
As it turned out, none of them had.
They spent the entire period redoing the assignment together as a class. It wasn’t great, but there were only two periods left after that. Jason could deal with it. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the mediation session scheduled for five o’clock, so if stretching the day out meant suffering through ten more rhetorical analyses, he’d take it.
When five o’clock finally rolls around, the classroom is uncharacteristically quiet and empty. His mom keeps a firm hand on his shoulder, steering him away from the back row — where he’d normally sit with Flash — toward a lab table in the second row instead. Flash isn’t there yet. She hasn’t said much since they leave the house twenty minutes ago, but Jason knows she’s still pissed.
“Jason, Ms. Ionello. Thank you for being here. We shouldn’t keep you more than forty minutes,” Mr. Harrington says, fidgeting with his hands like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them.
Brad and his mom walk in next, choosing the table beside them. Gianna comes after that, her dad guiding her toward one of the front-row lab tables. Mr. Morita and Miss Lew arrive together, and that’s when it really hits him how serious this is. The letters home should’ve been enough of a clue. The grounding should’ve been enough. But seeing the principal and the guidance counselor here in person makes something heavy settle low in his stomach.
Flash walks in next, and Jason’s surprised to see both of his parents trailing behind him. They look like they’re headed into court, not a high school classroom. Flash is wedged between them, shoulders tight, none of his usual swagger anywhere to be found. No phone. No commentary. No audience. His eyes stay locked on the floor as they guide him to a row behind Jason and Brad on the opposite side of the room.
Brad shoots Jason a look, clearly about to say something, but his mom’s warning glare shuts that down fast. Jason looks away and fixes his attention on the whiteboard at the front of the room instead. Harrington hasn’t erased anything from the day — half-finished equations and random notes clutter the surface.
Peter is the last one they’re waiting on. The clock reads 5:03 when the door opens again.
Peter walks in first, and three adults follow close behind him. His aunt stays right at his shoulder. Behind her, hand in hand, walk the most recognizable couple in probably the world — Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.
“Mr. Stark, good to see you again,” Principal Morita says, stepping forward to shake his hand.
Again.
Jason latches onto that word. That means they’ve met before. Maybe after the field trip. Maybe before that. None of them really know what Tony and Peter actually are to each other. They just know Tony called him “my kid,” and that Peter works closely with him. But the fact that they’re here for Peter — not just as representatives of Stark Industries — it certainly means something.
They take the last table in the front row, the only one big enough for all four of them. Peter sits sandwiched between his aunt and Tony Stark, Pepper settling on Stark’s other side.
“Alright. Now that we’re all here, I want to start by saying thank you for coming,” Mr. Morita says, addressing the room. “I know this isn’t an ideal way to spend a Thursday night, but this was the date and time that worked best.”
Beside him, Mr. Harrington’s eyes keep flicking toward the front corner of the room where Peter sits. Jason doesn’t think it needs to be said out loud that this is the date and time that works best for Stark and Potts.
“While the administration sent home letters recounting the incident that occurred during the academic decathlon trip to Stark Industries, we felt it important to formally address this in person,” Morita continues. “We want to ensure our school values are understood and upheld — not reduced to a piece of paper that ends up in the recycling bin.”
Fair enough. If there hadn’t been real consequences — like getting pulled from extracurriculars — Jason probably wouldn’t have even shown his mom the letter.
“Midtown is full of exceptional students who go on to do exceptional things,” Morita says. “We were afforded an opportunity, graciously extended by Mr. Stark and Miss Potts, for an exclusive field trip. It should have been a tremendous learning experience. Instead, it was cut short due to bullying and a student being injured off campus. We later learned this behavior is not isolated, which is unacceptable.”
Jason shifts in his seat, feeling his mom’s stare burn into the side of his face. He keeps his eyes forward, refusing to look at Brad. Or Flash. Or Peter. Or Gianna.
Because while Flash does most of the talking — most of the shoving — Jason feeds off it. Every time Flash calls Peter “Penis” in the hallway or knocks his books out of his hands, no one stops him. They laugh. They pile on. After a while, it stops even feeling like Flash’s thing and starts feeling like theirs.
He risks a glance toward the front corner.
Peter’s cheeks are red. Tony Stark’s arm rests around his shoulders, his aunt’s hand covering Peter’s on the table.
That tight feeling hits again — the same one from the field trip when it comes out that Peter isn’t lying. The one that settles somewhere uncomfortable because, even if he doesn’t say it out loud, Jason knows they’ve been cruel to someone who hasn’t actually done anything to deserve it.
Someone must raise their hand in the back because Morita gestures behind Jason’s table.
“Yes, Mr. Thompson?”
Every head turns.
Surely his dad isn’t about to speak when his son is the reason they’re all here, right?
“Eugene has the requested written letters right here, and we’ve read and signed the behavioral code of conduct sent home,” Mr. Thompson says, holding up a folded packet like evidence. “I’m on a tight schedule tonight, so I’d appreciate it if we could wrap this up.”
Morita blinks several times, like he’s choosing his next words carefully. Miss Lew steps forward before the silence stretches too long.
“While we aren’t holding you here against your will,” she says gently, “Flash’s participation and cooperation are mandatory if he wishes to remain on the decathlon team, Mathletes, Spanish Club, and the lacrosse team.”
“And I think that’s a rather harsh punishment for what Eugene has informed his mother and me was an accident,” Mr. Thompson replies stiffly. His tone shifts — less irritated parent, more annoyed courtroom attorney.
“Mr. Thompson,” Morita interjects, his voice firmer now, “let the record reflect that Flash’s documented behavior over the last nearly two years constitutes grounds for expulsion.”
“And even that wouldn’t be harsh enough.”
Tony Stark doesn’t say it loudly, but it carries.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Thompson raises his eyebrows, leaning forward on his lab stool in Peter’s direction.
“I said,” Tony adjusts his tie and turns fully toward him, the faintest curve to his mouth — not quite a smile, more like baring his teeth — “that expulsion wouldn’t be harsh enough for the way your son has been treating Peter.”
Jason feels something shift in the room. Flash’s dad suddenly doesn’t feel like the biggest presence anymore.
“Listen here, buddy—”
“—Harrison.” Mrs. Thompson rubs her temples, glaring at her ex-husband. “Do not embarrass us further. Sit down.”
“Why don’t we all take a second to calm down,” Miss Lew says softly, stepping between the rising tension and trying to smooth it over.
“I am calm!” Mr. Thompson snaps, standing now. “My son is being unfairly targeted because some pansy kid can’t toughen up.”
Everything seems to happen at once.
May Parker whips around in her seat, disgust flashing across her face. Tony’s jaw tightens as his thumbs start flying across his phone screen. Mrs. Thompson turns on her husband again. Jason’s mom shifts his stool a fraction closer to her, like she's afraid of something breaking out.
And then Pepper Potts speaks.
“Mr. Thompson,” she says evenly, which manages to feel colder than if she’d shouted, “the only reason we are sitting here in a school classroom instead of a court room, is because our kind and compassionate child—” her voice softens just slightly when she glances at Peter “—asked us not to press charges.”
“You can’t press charges over that,” he scoffs, jabbing a finger in her direction.
“Actually, we can,” Pepper replies, not missing a beat. “And we should. But we respect Peter and his wishes.”
“To a certain extent,” May adds, her hand still wrapped around Peter’s. Her voice is steady, but her expression mirrors Pepper’s anger.
“—yes. To a certain extent,” Pepper continues smoothly. “Because while Peter may not want to pursue legal action for the violence, Stark Industries can absolutely pursue legal action for the violation of the safety waiver and release form you and your son signed.”
“Oh please,” Mr. Thompson scoffs. “I’m in the legal profession. That case wouldn’t survive a preliminary hearing.”
Pepper laughs quietly, shaking her head.
And then the projector screen flickers to life.
Mr. Harrington jumps, hurrying toward his computer. “S-sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with this, let me just—”
“No need,” Tony says calmly. “I commandeered your screen.”
He doesn’t look up from his phone.
“Time for some transparency.”
Jason’s stomach drops. Seconds later, the same package of footage that played on the field trip fills the screen. This time, though, Jason can’t avoid watching himself. It clearly shows Flash as the ringleader — but it also shows Brad. And him. Gia too. Laughing. Stepping forward. Adding fuel to the fire throughout the trip. He hadn’t paid attention to his own face the first time it played. He does now.
“And if that’s not sufficient,” Tony continues, voice sharp and clinical, “here are audio fragments compiled from the AI installed on Peter’s phone oer the last couple months — activated only when she detects elevated stress markers.”
Flash’s voice hits first in each recording. Brad’s follows. Jason’s isn’t far behind. Gia is only in one of them.
Across the clips, Peter is called “Penis” seven times. He’s told his dead parents are probably better off without him. He’s called a liar. A fraud. A fake. Mocked for his “made-up” internship at Stark Industries.
Which — given who’s standing in this room — is clearly not true.
The classroom is suffocatingly quiet. No one shifts. No one even coughs or even clears their throat. Jason can feel his mom’s eyes on him without even turning his head. Heat crawls up the back of his neck. He isn’t sure what’s worse — hearing it out loud, or realizing there’s nothing to say in response. There’s no defense for it. And “sorry” suddenly feels thin.
“Now, I can get FRIDAY to read off the number of violent incidents your children have intiated with Peter,” Tony says, lifting his eyebrows in a silent challenge to any adult in the room who feels bold enough to argue, “but I think you get the gist.”
Mr. Thompson sinks back into his chair, glaring at his son like he’s just swallowed something sour. Mrs. Thompson looks equally horrified. Jason doesn’t dare look at his own mother. He can feel the heat of her anger radiating off her without turning his head.
Pepper and May both look shaken. May swallows, her eyes suspiciously angry and wet, though no tears actually fall. Tony keeps his arm around Peter, pulling him closer to his side. Peter himself looks mortified — cheeks flushed, shoulders tight, like he’d rather vanish entirely. Jason can relate to that part.
“Peter, Miss Parker, Mr. Stark, Miss Potts…” Jason’s mom finally speaks, her voice thick with emotion that makes his stomach twist. “I am horrified that my son has been part of this. That is not the boy I raised. There will be significant consequences at home. I can assure you, I will not be taking this lightly.”
The shame crawls up Jason’s neck.
Gianna speaks next, straight-backed, controlled. “I already told Peter yesterday at school, but I’m really sorry. I know that probably doesn’t mean much and it sounds lame, but I am. I’m prepared to accept whatever consequences the school gives me. I’ve also started distancing myself from Flash, Brad, and Jason.”
Jason’s first instinct is: suck up. But the thought barely forms before he knows she’s doing exactly what she should be doing ... taking accountability and apologizing.
Brad jumps in before he can figure out his own response. “Yeah. That wasn’t cool of us. I’m sorry too, dude. And I’m sorry, Mr. Stark and Miss Potts, for not respecting your property.”
Tony presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted rather than appeased. Pepper rubs a steadying hand along his forearm. May’s mouth tightens.
“These apologies are a - step,” Morita says evenly, “but I trust your written letters reflect more depth and accountability.”
Jason reaches into his mom’s purse and pulls out the two folded sheets of notebook paper — one addressed to Peter, the other to Stark Industries.
“I have mine here, Principal Morita,” he says, holding them up.
Morita gestures toward the front table. It's then that Jason realizes he’s expected to walk them over.
His face burns as he pushes his stool back and crosses the room. He places one letter in front of Peter and the other in front of Tony and Pepper.
“Sorry, Peter,” he says, forcing himself to meet his eyes. “You didn’t deserve any of that. It was mean. And cruel. And…” he gestures vaguely toward the adults at Peter’s side, “…obviously not true.”
His attention shifts. “Miss Potts. Mr. Stark. I’m sorry for misbehaving in your building and treating Peter the way I did. If I ever get the opportunity to return, I won’t act like that again.”
Peter offers him a small, careful smile. “Thanks, Jason.”
Tony taps the paper lightly against the table but doesn’t open it. He glances at Pepper before looking back at Jason, and the weight of that gaze makes Jason’s stomach tighten. “Use this as a learning experience,” Tony says evenly. “And be grateful that the person you chose to target is a good one. The next time, you may not be so fortunate.”
Pepper nods. “We appreciate the apology, Mr. Ionello.”
May says nothing. She just glares at him. And really, that’s worse.
Jason retreats quickly to his seat.
Gianna goes next, handing over her letters with as much sincerity as one could. The front table softens slightly for her. When Brad approaches, that warmth disappears just as fast. Jason isn’t surprised. Brad’s apology sounds unpracticed and without much care.
Flash is last.
He trudges forward, letters clutched in his hand. If the table felt cold before, it’s glacial now.
“I’m sorry, Parker,” Flash mutters, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been a bully. It’s not cool. It wasn’t my business whether your internship was real. And I shouldn’t have said those things about your parents. I shouldn’t have gotten physical either. I’ll leave you alone from here on out.”
Peter accepts the letter immediately. “Thanks, Flash.”
Flash turns to Tony and Pepper. “I’m sorry for not listening in the lab. For breaking equipment. And for hurting… hurting your kid. I wish I hadn’t done it.”
“Hadn’t done it,” May asks sharply, “or hadn’t gotten caught?”
The question slices through the room. Flash blinks, caught completely off guard. May has been mostly quiet until now, but apparently that restraint has limits. Jason is very glad he isn’t Flash in this moment.
“Hadn’t done it at all, ma’am,” Flash stammers.
“I hope that’s true,” May says, her voice steady but edged. “Because if it happens again, Tony and Pepper won’t be the scariest thing you have to deal with.”
Flash glances at his dad, then at the administrators, as if waiting for someone to object to what was clearly a threat. No one does. His shoulders sag.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He starts to turn away, but Tony clears his throat. The sound alone makes Jason straighten in his seat.
“I have the resources and the reach to make life very uncomfortable for anyone in this room,” Tony says calmly. “Touch my kid again. Mess with my family. Or bully anyone else in your life for that matter… and I’ll know.”
He pauses just long enough.
“And I will do something about it.”
The room is silent. Jason doesn’t know what scares him more — the threat, or the fact that Tony never once raises his voice.
Flash gulps — and somehow Jason does too, even from his seat across the room. His friend hurries back to his stool, shoulders hunched in a way Jason has never seen before. For once, Flash Thompson looks small.
The focus shifts back to Mr. Harrington, Miss Lew, and Principal Morita.
“I would also like to apologize,” Harrington begins, voice tight and nervous. “To everyone involved. Especially you, Peter.”
He steps away from the front of the room and approaches Peter’s table, wringing his hands.
“I should have taken the situation more seriously. I should have stepped up as the adult in the room. I failed you in that. And I’m sorry.”
Peter gives him a quick grin. “It’s all good, Mr. H.”
But the grin fades slightly as he looks around at everyone else.
“And I should apologize too,” Peter adds, shifting in his seat. “If I had spoken up earlier, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this bad. So… sorry for not saying something sooner. And I hope we can at least semi get along for the rest of the year.”
Tony looks down at Peter with an expression that is unmistakable pride. Pepper’s expression softens. May squeezes Peter’s hand above the table. Even Jason’s mom looks impressed. Brad’s mom does too.
Flash’s parents look… startled. Like they don’t quite know what to do with a kid who takes responsibility for things that weren’t even really his fault.
“Thank you, Peter,” Morita says. “Unless anyone else has anything to add, I believe we can adjourn and try to enjoy what’s left of our evening before some of us are back here bright and early tomorrow.”
“The only thing I’ll add,” Pepper says, her tone calm but deliberate, “is that we would appreciate everyone respecting our privacy. High school is hard enough without additional attention. While aspects of Peter’s life may eventually become more public, we would prefer that to happen on our own terms.”
No one argues. No one even hesitates.
Whether it’s because they already feel guilty… or because Tony Stark has just very clearly implied he could ruin their lives — Jason isn’t sure.
Probably both.
Chairs scrape against tile as people begin filing out. Gianna and her dad leave first. Brad and his mom follow. Flash trails behind his parents without a word. Jason lingers just long enough to glance back.
Tony is pulling Peter into another hug — less protective this time, more relieved. May and Pepper wait patiently for their turns, like this is routine. Like they’ve done this before. Like they always will be first in line to be there for Peter Parker.
Jason looks away first.
Out in the hallway, his mom walks beside him in silence until they reach the parking lot. The air is cooler now, quieter.
She exhales slowly. “I’m proud of you for apologizing. And I hope the consequences at home help this lesson stick.”
He nods quickly. He means it. He never wants to sit through something like that again. Never wants to hear himself played back like that again.
“What are the odds,” she mutters dryly as she unlocks the SUV, “that the kid you decide to bully is Iron Man and Pepper Potts’ son?”
“I don’t think they’re actually his parents,” Jason says automatically as he climbs into the passenger seat.
His mom pauses before shutting her door.
“Baby,” she says gently, “those are his parents. And I know that because it takes a parent to know a parent.”
Jason sits with that as the engine starts. There’s a strange irony in it. For nearly two years, they’d mocked Peter for pretending to be important. For pretending to matter. Turns out he hadn’t been pretending at all. He hadn’t technically been just some intern. He’d been something a lot bigger.
And somehow… that makes Jason feel worse, not better.