STONY & SPIDERSON

Dragging on

[THE NEXT DAY]

It was Friday and Peter couldn't focus on anything. He was in class, sitting at his desk, his leg bouncing and his fingers drumming on an empty page of his notebook. He was only picking up bits and pieces of what his English teacher, Mrs. Johnson, was saying. "Homework blah blah due Monday blah blah blah..." He leaned his head on his hand and stared out the window.

The day couldn't drag on any slower but before he knew it, the final bell rang. Peter ran out of the building as fast as he could. He sprinted down the block and barely made it on the bus. After ten minutes, he got off the bus and walked the 6 blocks home. He opened his wallet and took out the key card to get into Stark Towers. He waved it in front of the scanner and then heard the door unlock with a click.

In the kitchen, Clint was making toast, Wanda and Vision were sitting on the couch, talking about some current event that happened and Tony was sitting at the counter, surrounded by papers. The elevator doors opened and Peter stumbled out, collapsing on the floor from tiredness.

[•••]

"Peter, dinner's ready!" he heard his dad call. Peter got up from his bed and trudged downstairs. He was wearing some light grey sweatpants and a plain white shirt that was stained with dirt, grass, and grease.

"You okay, Kiddo?" Clint asked him, looking over his shoulder. Peter was so sleep deprived of swinging around the city all evening. "Yeah, I'm just exhausted," he said, groggily.

He picked up a plate and went around the buffet-style counter loading up on mashed potatoes, green beans, streak, and some Greek salad. He stayed quiet most of the dinner while everyone talked about their day. The table conversations were very mixed and overlapping each other. "-I think that I'm getting more food," Peter said, standing up and pushing his chair back. "Pete," Pops said, also standing up and following his son into the kitchen area. "Are you okay?" he asked, lowering his voice so that only Peter could hear.

"There's something I need to tell you and Dad," Peter said, shuffling his feet. "Uhh..." Peter put his plate on the counter, still looking down at his untied Vans. "I have been patrolling in the evenings but I don't want you to be mad because I haven't been doing anything, only watching you and Dad and listening to the police radio." 

Steve put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Pete, I'm not mad at you," Peter sighed. "But I have to tell Dad" "No, Pops, do you have to?" he whined. "Yeah, I'm sorry, sport, but Dad has to know"

"But Dad's just gonna police me about how unsafe it is and he's gonna give me a hundred thousand lectures about why I can't do it and yadda, yadda
yadda," Peter said, frowning.

They went back to the table and finished dinner. Peter then went up to his room and stayed there for the rest of the night, avoiding everyone.

[+++]

Peter woke up the next day with a throbbing head like he was hungover but he hadn't had a sip of alcohol last night. He managed to sit up, although his hearing was wonky and so was his vision. He rapidly blinked his eyes to try and shake the blurred vision he had.

He groped around on his bedside table, feeling for his phone. After finding it, he tapped into it and saw that it was 9:57. He pushed his blanket off him and sat up, taking an Advil and chasing it down with some water.

There was a knock on his door: "Yeah?" he asked, zipping up his hoodie halfway. The door opened and Tony came in. "Hey, Dad," Peter said, pulling a pair of light grey shorts on over his boxers.

"J.A.R.V.I.S told me that you're not feeling well. What's wrong?" Peter sighed, getting out of my bed and pulling the duvet up to the pillows. "Nothing, my head just hurts and Flash-"

"What did he do this time, Pete?" he cut me off. "Nothing, he just was acting super weird around me the other day."

"Like, how?"

"He was nice to me. I mean, I wouldn't say he was nice but he wasn't a total jerk to me."

"Hmm. Maybe he turned over a new leaf, y'know?"

"Dad, Flash would have to turn over a whole tree- no, a whole forest to be nice to someone, well, like me."

He sighed and patted Peter's back, then left the room. "You coming?" he asked. "Yeah, I'll be down there in a second."

WORD COUNT: 800

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peace out my guys,

-J