Sticks and Stones • Spideypool ✓

chapter 1

Peter's POV:

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I roll over and slap my hand down on my alarm. With a grunt I pull myself up and out of bed.

I don't want to do this today.

Ever since people at school found out I'm gay, the bullying has skyrocketed. It was bad enough when they found out I was adopted. But those insults where not nearly as bad as the ones I here now.

I shake my head to try and disperse my thoughts. For the most part it worked. I walked into my bathroom, grabbing clothes of my floor as I went.

I went to the sink and proceeded to wash my face. Then I slipped into my clothes. I tried to tame my messy hair, but gave up halfway. I look myself up and down in the mirror and grimace at my appearance.

Once again I have to shake my head to rid myself of the dark dark thoughts creeping their way through my mind. I'm never going to go back to that place. Not after what happened last time.

I hurried myself out of the bathroom and made my way down to the kitchen. I was greeted by the familiar smell of pancakes, bacon and coffee.

My stomach turned at the smells. Don't get me wrong, I love my Pops cooking. But I can't eat anymore.

"Hey Pete, want anything to eat?"

My Pops look at me expectantly. I just shake my head and look down. I can feel the worried look coming from him.

"I'm fine. I will get something at school." I lie. He seems contempt with my answer and goes back to turning the pancakes.

"Steeeve!" The whine came from behinde me. "Natasha took my beer!" I laughed. Honestly, my dad is such a drama queen.

"Tony do be quiet." From the tone of his voice I could tell he was not amused. But a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, betraying him. Dad came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. "She was mean." He pouted. Pops turned round and kissed his nose.

"Awe poor baby." Dad giggled. I pretend to hurl. They heard and laughed at my discomfort.

"Are you quite done?" I question. Dad giggles and ruffles my hair. He sits down next to me. Pops hands him a plate full of pancakes smothered in honey. My mouth starts to water, but I fight back the feeling of hunger.

I hear more footsteps coming down the hallway. I turn to see Natasha sauntering past us, smirking, going straight through to the living room. My dad rolls his eyes and pouts. I laugh again.

Living here is never boring