Flash Thompson stared daggers at Peter Parker's back; Parker just sat at his desk blankly, ignoring everything around him. Flash frowned. This was thoroughly atypical behavior from the skinny, pathetic little nerd. He wadded up a piece of notebook paper and launched it towards Parker's head. His nemesis didn't even notice it but batted it away before it had the chance to hit him. He shook his head. Luck, that was all.
"Stop it, Flash," Peter said dully. "You won't win. Don't make me fight you. Please." He then rested his head on the desk and folded his arms before him.
After class, Flash passed by Parker, who was waging war with his backpack and caught the unmistakable whiff of alcohol. Not beer nor wine, but scotch, and the really expensive stuff at that.
"Booze, Parker? I didn't think you had it in you," Flash muttered low in his throat as he passed by.
Peter narrowed his eyes. "Shut up, Flash. It's my business." He hefted his backpack and hung it over his narrow shoulder. Flash noticed how stooped his shoulders were, as if he wore the weight of the world on them. He frowned inwardly. Why was he feeling sorry for the loser? Maybe because today was the one-year anniversary of the death of Gwen Stacy, and everyone could see how in love the two of them had been. Flash could actually have seen them being the old married couple at a fiftieth high school reunion.
"Hey, Parker. I'll drive you home," Flash said resolutely. There brooked no argument with his tone; besides, Peter didn't feel much like walking. Hell, he didn't feel like using his webbing and soaring across the expanse of the city.
He nodded, and soon they were seated in Flashes little roadster with the top down. As they got closer to the bridge, Peter perked up. The bridge was choked with traffic and a huge man with rhino horns was tossing cars to the left and right. The police were trying to contain the situation to no avail.
"Aw, man," Peter said as he fished around in his backpack. He simultaneously began to pull off his clothes. He seemed to have instantly sobered.
"What are you doing?" Flash screeched as he slammed on his brakes. Peter pulled on his mask and Spider-Man sat beside him.
"Stay here," Peter said insistently as he fired his web shooters and soared off to face the rhino. Flash watched, heart in his stomach, as Peter flitted around The Rhino's head and attempted to web him up. He landed a savage kick to his thick head that brought the beast to his knees, all the while keeping up with his playful banter and jokes. Flash was busy taking pictures with his fancy Nikon camera and taking notes on the fight.
After the woefully mismatched fight, Peter limped back to the car and quickly pulled on his clothes.
"Hey, you're hurt," Flash said with alarm. He drove away before they could be detained for questioning. Peter was covered with bruises that were inexplicable. There was no sense in opening a very messy can of worms.
"What, this?" Peter gestured towards his knee, which was dislocated. "This is minor compared to the other injuries that I've gotten in the past." He rotated his knee until it clicked and went back into place. He laid his head back on the seat and sighed in relief.
Flash looked sick. That was, simply put, disgusting. "Gross, Parker."
Peter laughed. "What, the tough Flash Thompson has a weak stomach? Who woulda guessed?"
"And you don't?" Flash challenged as he steered expertly through the traffic. "Tell me something that you've done."
"I ripped off The Lizards tail when we were fighting," Peter challenged, eyeing Flash to gauge his reaction. So far, so good.
Flash looked a little green. "Eww. Now that was just yuck. Ok, you don't have a weak stomach. So, how did you become Spider-Man?"
"I was bitten by a genetically engineered spider at Oscorp. My dad was a scientist, and he used his DNA. Anyone who comes into contact with that venom becomes deformed. It's what happened to Harry."
"My dad works as Oscorp," Flash said softly, almost with a touch of despair in his voice. "He works on a program that Oscorp got when they took over Drake Industries."
Flash drove Peter home and helped him up the stairs. Although sober, his leg was still weak from the battle. "Does your aunt know?"
"What? That I'm Spider-Man? Yeah, she knows," Peter growled as they slowly ascended the steps. Flash, being accustomed to a life of privilege, was shocked that one of his schoolmates lived in such poverty. Things got better when they went into the apartment, though. It was clean, yet cluttered.
"Peter Parker! What have you done to your leg?" May yelled as Flash steered him towards the couch.
"He fought The Rhino, ma'am," Flash said, helping Peter get comfortable and propped his leg up. "He saved about ten families from falling into the river."
"I won't let anyone go through that if I can help it," Peter said cryptically. He laid his head back and was out in seconds.
Flash turned to Peter's unusually attractive aunt. "I'm starved. Pizza? I'm buying."
Thus, Flash managed, believe it or not, to worm his way into Peter and May's lives. Mostly because he hero worshipped Spider-Man, but also because he grudgingly respected the man himself, Peter Parker.