Robotics used to be such a nerdy thing, Peter remembered with nostalgia. The Robotics Clubs of the universe were filled with nerds and geeks of all types and ages, mostly the nerdiest people a school could find, all trying vainly to make a robot talk. Peter, while genetics was more his forte, had been friendly with the nerds and anti-social fellows who had formerly been in this club; most had been scared out. The Robotics Clubs were once filled with bullied, sad, lonely, bored almost-geniuses who did not care that they were labeling themselves virgins and freaks by joining.

Thanks to Iron Man, Robotics was now almost as competitive as sports, run by a teacher who was an ass and who knew what he was doing, and jocks or jock wannabe's all with superhero complexes, competitive natures, girlfriends, and the sole desire to make something shoot deadly lasers.

Peter took his respective seat in the back of the class, agonizing the loss of the second period of the day he had formerly used for homework and crimefighting, and hoped none of the dicks would notice him. Kong was here, with two other members of the football team, the jerk Vin Gonzales who had asked Mary Jane out five times last year, (if Mary Jane's account was to be believed, she had been ranting on about how all men but Peter and Harry were pigs) and a cheerleader, Sha Shan Nguyen, she was once of Liz Allen's friends as well as the only girl in the class.

Peter was forced into far too many encounters with the football team then was healthy for a geek.

Coach Chuck Tyler, who was the coach of the baseball team and also the only-recently-become-so highly competitive Robotics Club, was so big, frightening, and demanding that Peter was certain 'Coach' was actually his first name.

"Alright, team," he announced at the start of the period as if the six member elective class was actually the cast of an epic sports movie, "we have a new addition to our group."

Peter slunk in his chair and wished Doctor Doom had succeeded with that whole 'death ray' think eight months ago.

"Peter Stark," Coach Chuck said.

And that was when the five other students stared at Peter with utter confusion.

"Maybe that last name will be lucky?" Coach Chuck demanded.

Peter swallowed. "I'm not really..." He had designed web shooters, and had sat through hours in the lab with his Dad, but, "I'm not really good at Robotics. I'm just here."

"Well, 'just here'," Coach Chuck said as a red vein popped out of his forehead, "you need to get your head into gear. This is a class that competes with other classes throughout the tristate area, so if you don't want to fail, Mr. Straight A's-"

Straight A's and B's, Peter thought. He'd lost his 'Straight A' title when he got bit by a radioactive spider and no longer had study time.

"YOU HAD BETTER WORK!" Coach Chuck declared.

Kong turned to Vin Gonzales and whispered. He looked at Peter.

"PAY ATTENTION!" Coach Chuck said. He dumped a heavy book titled 'Robotics 101' on Peter's desk.

"Creative," Peter mumbled.

"Now, our lesson for today is circuit wiring! There will be a take home quiz at the end of the period!"

Peter yawned, and wondered if Tony Stark would do his homework if he asked the right way.

Harry stopped Peter on his way to the final class of the day and said he had something he wanted to tell him. Harry seemed happy, but the bell rang and they were forced to post pone said 'amazing news' until after class.

Ms. Flip told the class, which Peter barely managed to hear because Kong was being immature and kept whispering 'Peter Stark' to Flash Thompson, that they all had a project due at the end of the month on an influential person to the current century. It was a relentless project. She ordered a powerpoint with at least three slides, a video at least thirty seconds long, a costume, and a speech on why the person was important to current events. "Pick three people and have the names tomorrow, we'll pick the names out of a hat to assign everyone a person."

With Peter's luck, he'd get an Avenger. Or Jonah Jameson.

Thinking, and ignoring a jab from Flash followed by a, "What the hell, Parker?"

Peter decided he'd use the names of scientists. Neither Tony or Steve were scientists, the only scientist he knew was personally was Uncle Banner. And, well, Spiderman once meet Reed Richards. Oh, and there was Doctor Conners. And Norman Osborn. Doctor Otto Octavious.

Yay for crazed scientists. Peter knew all of the crazy scientists. Most of Spiderman's villains were mad scientists.

"Paaaaarrrker?"

"The project counts for half the semester grade-"

"Stark? Paaarker? Iddiiiiot Paaaarker?"

Jerks. Annoying, freaking, jerks. Peter was sick of them, he was sick of all of them. He was sick of Flash Thompson laughing in his face and Kong encouraging him. He was sick of relying on his Spidersense so he could avoid food thrown at him and legs to trip on.

Life was easier when he could jump into his suit and get away from Peter Park... er... Stark.

"What the hell?" Kong agreed with Flash.

"-it will not be accepted if it's turned in late-"

Why the hell do you care?

"I thought you were Parker," Flash smirked as if he was being clever.

Peter was sick and tired of this. In a thick, black pen, he wrote out the words, I was adopted, and turned his notebook so Flash could clearly read it. Peter glared.

Flash read it. Concluded the solution was boring. And went back to texting under his desk.

Peter felt like he'd just negotiated with terrorists. And neither of his dads would ever choose that option.

Peter looked hard for Harry after school, but couldn't find him. He had to go to the club, if he was late Peter wasn't sure whether a SWAT team or the Black Widow would run into the school screaming vengeance.

The man in charge of drama was a bald man with bright happy eyes, and he smiled gladly as Peter walked in the door. "Pete!"

Peter did not know this man. "Hi," he said apprehensively.

"Welcome to Theater Production Club," the bright older man said with a smile. His bald head gleamed in the classroom light. It was rather distracting.

"Pete," Gwen Stacy, leaning back like a badass in a school chair while fiddling with her phone, smiling at Peter, and kicking the scrawny girl in front of her, waved, "sit by me!"

Peter did, and he was so, so grateful that he had some company.

"So, Mr. Stark," the teacher, Mr. Hester, greeted, "why did you join-"

"Parker," Gwen corrected. Mr. Hester blinked. "His name is Parker, not Stark. What the hell?" She expressed complete interest in her phone.

The other members of the Theater thingy Club, were the scrawny girl in front of Gwen, a gothic girl scribbling fiercely in her notebook, Liz Allen, who was priming her hair and rolling her eyes, Vin Gonzales, and the currently not-present Mary Jane.

"Sorry, there must have been a typo," Mr. Hester said.

Peter was too brain dead from a whole day of school with no wallcrawling to bother correcting or explaining anything. He just sat down next to Gwen.

"Let's talk again about the script we're writing," Mr. Hester announced. He walked to the board. "The subjects we want to include are superheroes, growing up, and..." He looked at the gothic girl. "My Little Pony."

The gothic girl smirked.

Gwen leaned toward Peter and whispered. "She's Holly Hudson," she pointed to the gothic girl, "that's the annoying fucking Amy whatever," she pointed to the scrawny girl she'd been kicking, "who hasn't shut up for three days about Tony Stark being gay."

Peter swallowed. "Oh."

"Speaking of which, Peter Stark?" Gwen grinned.

"It's my name." Peter set his bag down and pretended to look at the board. The teacher had just drawn a superpony.

Wow.

Spiderman could be saving the world right now.

Instead: This.

Superpony.

"No." Gwen stared at Peter.

Peter, quietly, looked at her and said softly, "I told you I got adopted," he murmured, "my Dad's last name just happens to be Stark." The Stark, actually.

Gwen's expression fell. "You changed your last name?"

"I wanted to," Peter whispered.

"Why?" Gwen watched Peter closely in concern. "Parker is your family name."

"Yeah," Peter muttered.

"Why," she said quietly, "isn't that like... don't you want to remember them?"

Peter shook his head. "I remember them enough, Gwen. I am on my third set of parents. I have been orphaned twice. I needed," Peter looked away from Gwen's wide eyes, "I needed to move on."

Gwen, seeing the sudden turn toward sad emotion, smiled and punched Peter lightly in the arm. "But Stark? I mean, come on, all anyone is going to think is Tony Stark. Like you're the love child of Iron Man and Hawkeye."

Peter blinked.

"That is disgusting!" The girl in from of them, Amy, yelled, "Iron Man is totally gay for Bruce Banner! Science buddies!"

Peter slid down in his seat and his face turned purple. Oh my god.

"Have you seen the July 24th Avenger interview? Hawkeye was totally eying Tony Stark," Gwen Stacy protested.

"Fuck you," the gothic girl said, "Iron Man is gay for Thor."

"That would be hot," Gwen conceded, "but what about Loki? I ship Loki and Thor."

"No," the gothic girl, Holly Hudson snapped, "Loki and the Green Goblin!"

"Oh my god," Peter clamped his hand over his mouth to keep from getting sick at the thought of his nemesis, Norman Osborn, and LOKI.

"They'd be such shit together," Holly Hudson smirked.

"The Green Goblin's a raving lunatic who attacked our school," Liz Allen growled. Peter almost smiled and nodded at her, until she said, "Wolverine. Iron Man is getting it on with Wolverine or Cyclops."

"It has to be an Avenger!" Amy, the scrawny girl, reminded.

"Come on. If Spiderman is an Avenger, the X-Men can be too," Liz Allen said, "Iron Man could be getting banged by anybody."

"Or being banged," Holly Hudson smirked evilly.

Peter dropped his head on the table, put his hands over his eyes, and started to mumble a mantra of 'La, la, la, la, la, la, la'.

So these were the people Darcy 'ship war-ed' with.

"I'm a little teapot, short and stout," Peter sang quietly to himself as he got into the Daily Bugle elevator.

Bruce Banner, in his civilian purple shirt and jeans, was next to Peter. He kept sending Peter odd looks, since Peter had been singing nursery rhymes since he came to pick Peter up, and Peter's fingers seemed permanently attached to his ears.

"Here is my handle, here is my spout."

Everyone had opinions on Tony Stark's gayness, Peter had discovered. It wasn't just the girls in the Theater something Club, it was the girls and boys everywhere. Men tended to stay silent, unless to say, 'Well, he's half straight', and girls chattered on and on about things which made Peter feel far, far, far, far, far too awkward.

"When you tip me over, hear me shout-"

"I WANT THAT COLUMN RIGHT NOW OR WE'RE NOT RUNNING IT AT ALL! AND WHERE IS THAT HEADLINE?"

Bruce Banner, the volatile human rage machine, was surprised and then looked passively around the office as newspaper men, women, journalists of all shape and color, and Jonah Jameson basically freaked out.

It was calmer yesterday.

"So, this is where you work?" Bruce asked in monotone.

Peter swallowed, and his eyes quickly looked over his uncle for a sign of green. Nothing. Peter breathed out. "Yeah."

"You know, if my dad had told me not to get a job because he makes more then enough money to support me, I would never have tried to get a job," Bruce Banner joked.

Ben Urich was walking toward the elevator shuffling an enormous amount of paper. He looked up. "Peter, the link to the online catalog is..." He stared at Bruce.

"Ben, this is Bruce Banner, Uncle Bruce, this is Ben Urich, he writes for the paper," Peter introduced. Because, fuck it, everyone can recognize Bruce Banner and it's not like he was in school anymore.

"The Hulk?" Ben Urich said as he shuffled paper to his side and held out his hands.

Bruce smiled for a brief moment. "Not right now," he said. They shook hands, and Peter watched.

That wasn't so bad, Peter thought, and he felt like he'd just had an epiphany about keeping secrets.

"I didn't know you were related to the... Mr. Banner," Ben looked at Peter with unhindered suspicion. Well, he was a journalist.

"He's not, his parents are good friends of mine," Bruce said, "they asked me to watch him."

Ben Urich nodded, like he understood. Who really could, honestly, understand leaving Bruce Banner in charge of someone's child?

"Your Pop said your aunt will probably pick you up," Bruce Banner told Peter.

"Alright," Peter said.

Bruce Banner waved, and walked away.

Ben Urich, his mouth open, took a long moment. He turned to Peter. "You... know... the Hulk?" His eyes sparkled. "Who else do you know?"

Peter swallowed. "N... nobody... Uncle Bruce and my d... dad were close before his accident."

"Are you lying, young Peter?" Ben Urich pressed. Peter turned sharply and walked toward the corner of the floor where his cramped desk was. Ben Urich followed. "You have connections," the reporter exclaimed happily, "and you didn't tell me?"

"NOW!" Jameson shouted from somewhere.

"Me? Connections? You're kidding, my dad's a broke..." Doctor, scientist, veteran... uh... uh.. "unemployed." Peter winced.

Ben Urich nodded in disbelief. "Well," he said. Peter sat down in his desk and turned on the computer. "I just want you to know, that as a reporter I am very fair with taking the sides of the people I interview."

Peter blinked at him. "What?"

"I mean," Ben Urich said carefully, "I don't quote out of context. And that may be what Mr. Stark is looking for right now."

"I don't know D... Tony Stark," Peter tried to should but fumbled and ended on a mumble.

Ben Urich nodded sympathetically and tapped the sides of Peter's cubicle. "Just in case," he trailed off.

Peter got home, a bit jarred emotionally from having to ride in the back of a car with Aunt Natasha. She apparently felt constantly that they were being followed... or she only knew how to drive by taking back roads, screeching turns, and running lights.

"Your dads should be back soon," she said as she parked the car.

Peter gasped for breath, unable to break the grip his hands held on his seat.

"Want to spar, little paook?" Natasha asked as she opened the car door for Peter. (*Paook: 'Spider' in Russian*)

Still shaken, Peter stepped outside. "I can't," he said miserable, "my dads grounded me."

"They told me you could still spar, with one of us," Natasha told Peter stoically.

Peter could not remember if they had said that or not, but he decided not to question it. He was about to crawl out of his skin from lack of exercise and, well, wallcrawling. "YES," he agreed, "let's go, big paook."