Irondad and Spiderson One-shots

The gun and the hall

Peter couldn't help the small buzzing that sat annoyingly at the back of his head reminding him constantly of incoming danger, and while the buzzing arched his back in suspicion and made him glance at everything in the room at least twice, it would not inform the teenager of what exactly he should be fearing.

One of cons of these supposedly 'amazing powers' Ned loves to go on about.

But today, Ned was uncharacteristically quiet. Which did nothing but dramatically heighten his lingering, unjustified fear.

Peter wondered, as he slid into his desk carefully to avoid setting off any potential explosives, if Ned had any clue of what was going on.

Peter embarrassingly admitted to himself that his tenseness was obvious. And it was unlike Ned to not constantly bug Peter with questions about his well-being.

Not that he didn't appreciate it, he just couldn't produce a fast and smooth response that would stifle any of Neds worries. The last thing Peter ever wants to do is make people worry for him.

His anxiety for his friend invited itself to plague his mind.

Maybe Ned was hurt

Maybe Ned was in trouble

Peter twisted his hands together in an attempt to fight the anxiety and nervousness that clawed up his throat in desperation to gain his attention-

Peter stole a glance at his best friend.

And as expected, he looked fine.

He was in the middle of grabbing out last nights homework from his backpack.

Peter studied him for any sign of distress.

Ned didn't seem in any pain, he had his ear buds in listening to, what seemed to be pop music, drumming his fingers on his desk looking at the front of the room.

He was totally fine, but Peter couldn't shake off the uneasiness just yet.

The class bell startled peter out of his spiraling thoughts.

Ms. Lula, his teacher, strode out to the middle of the classroom, her posture glowing confidence and her eyes filled with intent. But with such an amazing teacher, it didn't take long for Peter to lose focus. His head fell into his open palm lazily. His eyes aching for some shut eye, the strain of keeping them extra open damaging him a lot faster than he could have ever predicted.

But he couldn't fall asleep, not while his whole body screamed to stop the unidentified danger.

Peter let out a long breath, rubbing his eyes to, hopefully, wake himself up.

But no such luck happened, Peter sat up straighter in his desk, his eyes scanning the classroom once more.

Everything was the same, save for the couple kids who fell asleep.

A sneer almost crept onto the teens face, before realizing he would have been one of those kids if it weren't for this insistent unrelenting buzzing-

And that's when he heard it.

The unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded.

Peter drew in a sharp breath, his back straightened unpleasantly as his eyes shot around the room.

The sound was definitely to faint for it to be in the classroom, for everyone would have heard it. But by judging the tired and calm, with a hint of stress, atmosphere. It must have had to happen outside of the classroom, but not to far from it.