Spider-Man Imagines I

Just A Little Bit Longer | Flash Thompson [TR]

Flash's day went from being bad (with a flat tire on his dad's car and a forced ride on the bus) to being flat out horrible with a midterm report in his hands that was not what he was expecting.

CHEM --- A- --- 90.34%

Flash Thompson was supposed to have straight A's that were kept no lower than ninety-eight percent. That was what his dad expected of him, what his decathalon expected of him, and what he expected of himself. And the grade in front of him was a smack of failure right on his face.

His hands were shaking with anger and anxiety. If his dad knew, he would be livid. If his mom knew, she would shake her head and say his name in that way before pouring herself a glass of wine way before dinner as a way to prepare for his father's wrath.

In a panic, ideas were swirling around Flash's head. He could ask the teacher for extra credit and, if she said no, demand it. He deserved it. He was a hardworker. But if that failed, he could bribe the teacher with cash. Or blackmail them.

He scoffed at himself. Ridiculous.

After school, he went to the chemistry classroom and waited by his teacher's desk while she talked to another student. He glanced down at his expensive watch and tapped his foot, watching the time tick by as his anxiety rose every minute.

Finally, with a pat of encouragement on the student's back, she left, bidding the cheerful teacher goodbye as she slipped out of the classroom. Finally.

The teacher turned to Flash and smiled warmly. "Mr. Thompson," she greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"Uh, yeah... it's about my midterm. I'm not happy about my grade in this class," he said, the piece of paper in his fist.

"Oh?" the teacher replied, raising a single eyebrow. She held out her hand for his midterm, which he quickly turned over. "That's odd... most people are glad to have an A minus. That is technically an A."

"Sadly, not to my dad," he said, scratching the top of his head. "Anyway, I was hoping I could do something in terms of extra credit to improve it. I've worked really hard to maintain the grades I have and-"

She held up a hand to silence him. "Mr. Thompson, I appreciate your dedication to being the best that you can be," she said sweetly. "But I am not a fan of handing out extra credit when students start to panic."

Flash raised his eyebrows. "Um... I thought that's what extra credit is for..."

She ignored his reply. "If you were that serious about your grades, you would have come to me months ago instead of goofing around with Miss ___." She handed him his midterm back and shrugged.

Chemistry was the one class Flash had with you, his girlfriend. He had just begun to date you at the end of the first semester. He'd asked you at the Christmas party thrown by the decathalon team.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that recently you and ___ have started dating," the teacher said, "and with that you have been increasingly distracted. Your grades slipped without you noticing. I believe hers have as well, and while you are undoubtedly more concerned about your grades, you are also at fault."

"O-Okay, but-"

"But nothing, Mr. Thompson. Think to yourself what is more important - dating or maintaining a high GPA? Which will get you into college?" She smiled. "Have a good evening. Please shut the door on your way out."

Flash blinked in surprise. He felt his blood pressure spike as he left the classroom with no hope of extra credit. He would have to show the midterm to his father and deal with that anger all day.