Ch. 1
Ow.
That really hurts. You might think it's hard to concentrate in tenth grade calculus? Try doing it with bullet holes in your thighs.
Last night's patrol got rough- the friendly neighborhood Spiderman gig was not as friendly as you would think, especially in the backstreets of Queens. Peter got shot a few times last night- he webbed the wounds up pretty well, he had thought. Not well enough, as was evident by the stabbing pain that was effectively keeping his mind off of the mind-numbing lesson on continuous function. Or something. Again, he was decidedly not paying attention.
He carefully had avoided Mr. Stark after he swung back to the Tower, because he definitely did not want to dodge all the questions concerning the bullet holes in his suit (which was still nothing more than glorified spandex, as far as he was concerned), and he absolutely did not want Mr. Stark fussing over him if he ever did find out that Peter was hurt in any way. By God, that man would fly a team of medical professionals all the way from across the world if Peter had a papercut, let alone a gunshot wound. He had threatened it half-jokingly before, and it really didn't seem too out of the question.
Peter had been full-time living at the Avengers Tower since his Aunt May had died the past summer. It was fast, a car crash. It was like he blinked and she was gone. He had been signed into the custody of Mr. Stark within the hour, and with that single scribble of pen, his life has changed forever. In a flash, quiet mornings in the kitchen with Aunt May turned into the rowdy bumble that the Avengers common room always seemed to be buzzing with.
He was pulled from his thoughts (which were rather redundant; lots of ow and ouch) by the loud chiming of the bell signaling that his day of torture was almost over. He had been silently thanking all things holy that he didn't have gym today, because holding himself back in addition to the annoying distraction of his injuries would just not be fun. At all. The only other thing he had to get through today was Academic Decathlon practice. There was something nagging at the back of his brain, but it was quickly overshadowed by the shroud of pain as he put his weight on both legs with a grunt. He trudged out into the hall slowly and fell into step with Ned, who was coming from the science room.
"Hey man, you okay?" Ned inquired as soon as he spotted the grimace on Peter's face.
"Yeah, I'm good, just a little tired," Peter replied. Ned would fuss too, about how cool it was that Peter was shot, as if it was a good thing. Haha.
"You excited about whatever Harrington's gonna say?" Ned quickly asked, all thoughts about Peter's well being pushed to the back of his mind.
Ah, that was it. Mr. Harrington had been leading them up to this huge announcement that was going to be declared today. Peter had wondered about what it was briefly, in between school, patrols, homework, nights with the Avengers… he had been extremely busy.
"Yeah, definitely," he said, faux excitement dripping from every syllable.
They arrived at the AcaDeca practice three minutes late, and Mr. Harrington flashed them a look from the front of the room. They muttered rushed apologies while speed walking to their respective seats.
"Hey Penis, didja hear?" Flash called from across the room. "You're about to get busted."
"What are you talking about?" Peter said with a roll of his eyes.
Mr. Harrington cleared his throat. "As I was saying, I have personally arranged a field trip to the Avengers Tower with Tony Stark himself. Please be at the bus by 9:15 am on Saturday, January 5…"
All thoughts of Ned, MJ, Flash, and even the nagging pain in his legs faded away. Shit. This was going to be very, very bad.