Hello! This is my first story, so it's probably not that good... Well, it is rather cliche, but who's to say that cliche can't be good sometimes? Anyways, constructive criticism is always welcomed!

~Almost A Goddess

Peter Parker

You probably know who I am, but I'll go through introductions anyways. Common courtesy, as Aunt May would say. Hi, I'm Spider-Man.

Being Spider-Man has gotten a lot harder recently, mostly because I've gotten involved with Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers, who are awesome, by the way. Unfortunately, getting involved with the Avengers means a lot of fame for Spider-Man, and being famous sucks. Not to say that being a part of the Avengers sucks, but having reporters constantly follow you everywhere? Suck-y.

Anyways, back to the not-so-suck-y present. I'm engaged in a popcorn fight with Natasha and Clint in the living room. Well, not engaged. More like I'm watching them destroying the place and hopefully not getting in trouble with Mr. Stark.

"Ha! Suck it, Legolas!" shouted Natasha, hooking her ankle around Clint's leg and tripping him as she dumped a bowl of popcorn on his head.

Clint groaned as he got to his feet, his hair covered in pieces of popcorn. He raised his own bucket and threw it at her, coating her in melted butter with a satisfied grin.

"Damn," she complained, touching her sticky hair. "I'm obviously better than you, Clint, so why don't you just admit that and quit?"

"Famous last words, Nat," he said with a smirk, readying another handful of popcorn, before he was hit in the face with a stream of melted butter. "Hey - who was that?"

Natasha laughed, readying another squirt from the nozzle she was holding. "Would you like any more, or would you rather just give up?"

"Fine!" he huffed. "I yield, but only because I'm not destroying my eyesight with that artificial... stuff."

"Excuses, excuses," Natasha said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

I sat up on the couch. "You do realize that Mr. Stark is going to kill you, right?" I asked innocently. "I mean, F.R.I.D.A.Y. is probably already reporting you to him."

"That would be correct, Mr. Parker," said the A.I.'s voice. "Mr. Stark is currently taking the elevator from floor 55."

Natasha muttered something under her breath about Tony and some other unprintable things before she ran out of the room - straight into Mr. Stark, who glared at her and then surveyed the room around him.

"Nope. You guys did not do this. What were you thinking!" he yelled at Clint, who was, for his part, trying not to laugh. "No. This is not funny, Clint, you just destroyed my living room!"

I burst out laughing, causing Clint to break down, and even Natasha to crack a smile. "Mr. Stark, I can explain," I gasped out between laughs, clutching my sides.

"Yeah, well, you've got a lot of explaining to do, Underoos," he said, crossing his arms, but I could tell he was trying not to smile too.

"It was their fault!" I choked out, pointing at Natasha and Clint. "They started it, I did nothing! Absolutely nothing, Mr. Stark, I swear!"

"He did not just rat us out-" complained Clint, before he was cut off by Mr. Stark's glare. "Okay, so maybe I started it, but Natasha was the one who ripped out the melted butter machine!"

"That is so not true, Clint, you know that you're the one who drenched me with your extra-buttery popcorn first!" Natasha said with a glare, holding up her Widow's Bite cuffs menacingly.

"You know what? I don't care," said Mr. Stark quickly. "Just don't do it again. F.R.I.D.A.Y., get someone to clean up this mess."

School wasn't nearly as fun as Stark Tower. I mean, there was no fighting and crazy superpowers, but there were bullies and the food was just... ew.

Ned walked up behind me right before science, choosing to introduce himself by shouting in my ear instead of acting like a normal human being. Naturally, I already knew that he was there, but still.

"Ayyyyy, Spidey, what's up?" he asked, watching me turn around and glare at him.

"Not here, Ned!" I shushed, looking around to make sure that no one was listening. "What is it?"

"Mrs. Warren is taking us on a field trip to some super awesome place! Holy crap! I think I might die!"

"That's great," I said in a bored tone. I hated field trips, Flash was always there to mess them up.

Ned frowned, shaking his head at me. "Lighten up a little, Peter! We're going on a field trip! We haven't done this since like, elementary school!"

"I know, I know," I said. "All right, well, since we have science next, I guess we'll figure out about that then."

Ned smirked. "I heard you got a hundred on the science test..."

With that swift change of the subject, we walked down the hall, me blushing to the roots of my hair as Ned pounded me on the back. The second that we got into the classroom, Flash was right in my face.

"Listen, Penis, you didn't give me your homework answers last night," he said menacingly. I flinched and looked away.

Pavlov's dog. That is what I have named this inherent fear. He bullied me, therefore I have an illogical neural response to him, despite the fact that I am, technically, his superior. I am afraid of Flash.

"S-sorry, Flash," I mumbled, averting my eyes. "I-I was busy..."

"S-sorry, Flash," he mocked, then curled his fingers into a fist. "You don't get to be sorry, Parker."

I knew that the punch was coming, and I could've stopped it. Of course, the second I saw his fist heading for me, my muscles froze and my mind went blank and I just stood there, gaping like a fish. His hand slammed straight into my stomach. It didn't hurt much, to be honest. In fact, since I was Spider-Man, it didn't hurt at all. But fear told me that I should gasp and clutch my stomach and keel over, pretending that it hurt so that he wouldn't punch me again.

If I were Spider-Man, I would be able to punish you, I thought weakly. If I were Spider-Man, nothing would get in my way, not even you. Unfortunately, I was just Peter Parker, and he would only know me as Peter Parker.

"Mr. Parker, please get up," snapped Mrs. Winterhalter, passing by the door. "You know that students aren't allowed to sit on the floor." She stalked by, her heels tapping the ground in rhythmic clicks.

I groaned, clutching my stomach as I gathered my fallen binders. Why do you all ignore the fact that I am bullied? Do you all just not care? Am I really that worthless? Slowly, I stood up, walking quickly past Flash. He shoved my shoulder in annoyance. "Don't think this is over, Penis."

In Physics class, things didn't get much better. Field trips suck, like I said before.

"Hello, class!" said Mrs. Warren brightly. "Today, I have some very exciting news!"

The entire class groaned. Some kid in the back raised his hand and blurted out, "That is false!" He was technically right, field trips were never fun.

"Mister Brown, you are not to interrupt the class," snapped Mrs. Warren. "This is not the Academic Decathlon! Anyways, as I was saying, we are going on a field trip! I'll be handing out permission slips right now, be sure to get your parent or guardian to sign them!"

Cindy raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Moore?" asked Mrs. Warren tiredly, lowering her glasses to give Cindy "the look."

"Mrs. Warren, you didn't tell us where the field trip is going to be!" she reminded, lowering her hand.

Mrs. Warren nodded slowly, and you could tell that she had been waiting for someone to ask her that question. "We're going to... Stark Towers!" she said excitedly, knowing that this was probably everyone's dream.

Everybody else cheered except for me and Flash.

I stiffened. What?

Flash smirked at me. "Now everyone will see that you're lying about the field trip, Penis."