Hi readers, here's the second chapter to my fic. Just to let you know, these have kinda been created over a long period of time and posted pretty quickly. I am not normally this fast with posting new chapters, so you might have to wait a little for the next chapter. P. S.- I do not own Spidey, or the Avengers.
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The concentrated silence in the classroom was so thick that you could grab it and eat it, like peanut butter. The chapter 12 honors chemistry test, which was possibly the hardest test ever undertaken by the students yet, demanded all of their attention.
Peter finished it seventeen minutes ago, but had another troubling matter at hand. His nose itched. Badly. Having been holding in a sneeze for fifteen of those minutes, Peter felt ready to give in. He hated to break the silence, he really did, but he couldn't last another second. Inhaling shakily, Peter sneezed twice into his sleeve, stifling it as well as he could.
Several students jumped in their seats. Others turned to glare at Peter as he discretely wiped his nose on his wrist. 'I knew I should have grabbed that to-go pack of tissues on my way out.' Peter thought, wincing as the fabric scraped against his sore nose. Raising his hand quietly, Peter asked to go to the bathroom. The teacher nodded, preoccupied with grading the previous class' tests.
After blowing his nose on the scratchy school toilet paper, Peter washed his hands and looked at himself in the mirror. Paler face, pink nose, purple underneath his eyes, only noticeable when you looked for it. Now if only he could stop his running nose and his watering eyes. Peter mentally accounted for all his symptoms: coughing, sneezing, runny nose, sore throat, headache, and possibly a fever. Splashing his face with water to wake up more, Peter dried his hands and returned to class just before the bell rang, signaling the end of sixth period.
Amongst the boisterous crowd of high schoolers, Peter Parker shuffled over to his locker, more thankful for the weekend than he ever had been before in his life. Well, he would be if the school day ended yet. Peter coughed into his sleeve, dreading what remained of the school day.
One class left: physical education. Which sucks, by the way. Normally, Peter aced P.E., except for dodgeball, which he let the other team win. Unfortunately, colds tend to suck all the life out of you, give you horrible headaches, totally stuff up your nose, and make you cough till you feel like you want to explode. Peter felt like all that and more, but unfortunately he still had to attend P.E.
Peter arrived at class without a moment to spare. He headed over to Harry, clearing his throat. Obviously, Harry got him sick, but Harry has enough on his plate without learning that he caused his best friend misery. So Peter would try his best to act like he felt fine, at least until the end of school.
Harry grinned, "Hey, Pete. What's up?"
"Hi Harry. Just waiting for school to be over. What does Mr. Cambridge plan on torturing us with today?" Through Peter's stuffed nose, his n' s and m' s sounded a bit like d' s and b' s. Thankfully, Harry didn't notice.
Harry's smile dropped, "Dodgeball today, sorry Pete. No easy escape today." Peter groaned, and started to reply before being interrupted by a cough. Peter coughed painfully, but managed to smother them in his sleeve until he stopped. "Scuse me."
Harry blinked, concern filling his eyes. "You okay?"
Peter swallowed, ridding himself of the last of the tickle. "Perfectly fine. I just choked on some ...air."
"Air. Right."
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, Mr. Cambridge stepped into the gym. "Okay students, today is dodgeball. I pick the teams. Flash, Avery, John, Lily, Rebecca, Matthew, Emma, Gabe, Jeremy, Harry, John, Megan, Abbie, Benjamin and Peter on one team. Everyone else on the other team."
The students gathered in their collective groups, high fiving the friends on their team. The group nominated Flash as team captain, who quickly divided the group into defense and offense. Although Flash used to bully others, he leads them naturally. Now that he started to treat others better, most of the students respect him.
Placed near the back of the crowd, Peter found it difficult to see the balls and dodge them. While blowing his nose for the fourth time that class period, Peter narrowly missed the dodgeball aimed right for his face. After a while, the group thinned out, leaving Harry, Flash, Peter, and two others. The other team saw Flash as the biggest threat and mainly targeted him, leaving Peter free to maneuver and throw dodgeballs at the other team. He hit two people before Flash got out. Harry almost caught a ball, but juggled it too much, getting himself out. The other two teens got hit shortly afterwards, leaving only Peter.
Peter stared at the other team, five people strong, and grimaced. Of course, as Spiderman, he could hit them all in one shot with the same ball, but Fury discouraged any showing off while in civilian wear. He decided to catch a ball, but not immediately. Catching a ball when only one person remains allows the entire team to return to the game.
Tossing three balls in quick succession, the other team quickly moved to eliminate Peter. Peter dodged all three, pretending to almost fall over. He continued to dodge balls, but eventually his team got impatient.
"Catch the ball, Parker!" Flash yelled.
Peter nodded, suddenly feeling the need to cough. 'Not here. Not now.'
Swallowing hard and holding his breath, Peter failed to notice a ball thrown straight for his face. Suddenly his Spidey Sense tingled. Peter brought his hand up on front of his face and caught the ball right before it would have hit his face.
Peter's entire team rushed onto the gym floor, yelling and cheering. Nobody noticed when Peter finally coughed. Doubling over, Peter's coughs were barely hidden by the roar of the thirty animated highschool students Peter had just freed. For almost a minute, Peter had trouble taking a breath without coughing. Just as he finished, a ball hit him square in the chest. Peter sighed in relief, he played the game and now he could be done.
Sitting himself on the bench, Peter pretended to watch the game. In reality, he nearly fell asleep. He sniffed quietly, trying to stop his brains from dripping out of his nose. Normally, Peter could swing across town without breaking a sweat. With a cold, he felt exhausted after a simple game of dodgeball.
"I guess that rules out late night patrolling tonight," Peter mumbled to himself as the bell rang.
Peter walked to his locker slowly, feeling tired and kinda sorry for himself. Not only did he have to walk home in the cold, but once he got there, he would need to keep up appearances with the rest of the Avengers. Grabbing his stuff, Peter didn't notice Flash running up behind him until it was too late.
"Hey, Parker!" Flash ambushed him from behind, giving him a noogie. "Great job in dodgeball today! You really surprised us. I mean, catching that fastball was pretty awesome." Peter jumped at the sudden contact, still not quite used to Flash being nice. It seemed like just days ago, Flash had been shoving Peter into a locker. Both of them had matured since then, in more ways than one.
"Uh, thanks." Peter replied as he shoved his homework into his overflowing backpack. Flash then proceeded to talk to him about all things Spider-Man and football.
Peter shivered suddenly while Flash talked. His stupid cold/flu/superplague couldn't decide whether he felt hot or cold. And to believe that he had completely overlooked his symptoms yesterday. Unbelievable.
Flash noticed, but didn't pry. Having seen Peter sneezing in science and choking in P.E.,flash didn't need to be a genius to figure out that Peter caught a cold. Whether or not Peter would admit to it was a different matter entirely. Flash knew from experience that Peter always came to school, no matter what. When his uncle died, he came to school. When the Lizard attacked, he came to school. When Flash beat him up (Flash regretted that decision now), he stayed at school. Of course Peter would come to school with a cold, and a possible fever. Crazy Parker.
"Uh, thanks." Peter released himself from Flash's friendly grip, not noticing his voice shift up an octave. "I gotta go. See you later."
Flash waved goodbye, "Feel better, Parker." Peter blushed, surprised by his intuition.
Peter started to reply, but three awkwardly unavoidable coughs came out instead. "Thanks," Peter mumbled as he picked up his backpack and headed home.
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Burrowing himself more snugly into the hoodie he wore, Peter realized for the first time today that it didn't belong to him. Upon further inspection, Peter found a name printed on the tag. Bruce Banner. Grinning sheepishly to himself, Peter walked past the coffee shop adjacent to Avengers Tower.
He crossed the street, and soon was standing in the elevator of Avengers tower. "What level, sir?"Jarvis, Tony's AI asked Peter.
"Avengers level please, Jarvis." Peter's nose had started to run earlier, so he sniffed half-heartedly. At least the tower was warmer than outside.
"Sir, my sensors have detected an anomaly in your body's functions. Your average body temperature is elevated by 2.1° Fahrenheit. You are also exhibiting symptoms similar to that of the common cold or the flu. Should I alert Mr. Stark?"
Peter's eyes widened. "No! I... um, I mean, that's not necessary Jarvis." Peter rubbed at his throat, hoping it would decrease the ache inside. It didn't.
"If you are certain, sir."
Soon the elevator doors opened, bringing Peter to the Avengers level. He quickly went to his room, flopping onto the bed. If he lived alone, Peter would have stayed like that forever, or at least until he fell asleep. Unfortunately, Peter had a reputation to uphold.
Being the youngest of the Avengers by at least eight years, maybe more, he often felt like he got the short end of the stick. Peter normally accepted the challenge of keeping up with the Avengers, however, today he just wanted to be taken care of. That is, if his pride allowed him this luxury. As it was, Peter still felt like he had to prove himself to the others. So after a minute or two, Peter rose from his bed, albeit rather reluctantly.
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P.S. - Comments make the llama happy
