Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter hated PE. Not because he was bad at it, but because he had to hide the fact that he was actually awesome at it.

He changed quickly in a cubicle, letting Flash and the others believe that it was because he was ashamed of his wimpy body instead of because he was hiding his muscles. He pulled a baggy PE hoodie over the skintight uniform, even thought the gym was always too hot, then headed out to join the rest of the class.

"Okay class," the coach said. "Today there will be a number of activities available for you to try. I've assigned partners, who will record each other's scores on each rotation."

Of course it was Peter's luck that he got stuck with Flash. Their first rotation was on the obstacle course. Flash did well, and would not cease bragging as Peter stumbled through after him, deliberately tripping over the tyres as he counted in his head to make sure he got a believable time for the class nerd.

Next was the long jump. Flash barely made it a metre, so Peter made sure to trip over his own laces and faceplant the sand. The mental capacity required to fail was way more effort than it would be for him to succeed. Flash laughed and stepped over him on the way to the next activity.

By the time they made it to the running track, Peter was beyond fed up. Flash jogged on the spot at the starting line. Peter braced himself beside him until the coach blew the whistle, sending them off. They had to do 5 laps, and it was supposed to be a race so Peter let Flash pull ahead before settling into a slow jog. After one lap, he made sure to begin panting, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. That was when Flash lapped him, sneering as he slowed down and ran backwards in front of Peter.

"What's wrong, Parker?" he taunted. "Too puny to go for a little jog? I bet you'll drop dead before you get to the third lap!"

Peter scowled, not noticing his pace increase. He just had to ignore him. He proved people like Flash wrong every time he went out as Spider-Man. Someday, they'd realise just how wrong they were. Flash's needling insults rang out in the background. Peter grit his teeth. He was tired, mentally drained from holding back, and sick of Flash Thompson. One day couldn't hurt.

Peter loosened his grip on his self-control, and sped up until he was running alongside Flash, who had given up on insulting him a few seconds ago. They passed the second lap.

"Oooh, Parker thinks he's better than me, huh? Eat my dust, puny." Flash sneered, and sped up. Peter kept pace easily. Flash's eyes widened in shock, then the other boy put on a burst of speed and stuck out a leg to trip Peter up. Peter jumped over it instinctively and continued to put on speed, letting his momentum carry him forward but being careful not to surpass believable human running speeds.

By lap 4, Peter had overtaken Flash three times. The bully was red in the face with anger and exertion, but he could not keep up with Peter, no matter how he tried. On the sidelines, Peter vaguely registered the coach staring.

Peter slowed down a bit to normal sprinting speed for the last stop before coming to a halt at the line, barely winded. A minute later, Flash collapsed beside him, wheezing but finally keeping his mouth shut.

Once Flash had recovered, they moved onto their next rotation - rope climbing. Peter was so relieved that nobody had called him out on the running that he let his instincts take over as he scaled the rope with ease, his sticky skin and lots of web-climbing practise making it second nature. He barely stopped himself from jumping down from he top of the rope - his speedy ascent had already attracted enough attention. Instead he climbed quickly down, then slid a few metres and jumped the last couple, hands smarting slightly from rope burn. He barely managed to stop himself from landing in his classic Spidey pose out of muscle memory. A couple of people clapped.

Flash did his best to scramble up the rope, falling on his first attempt before making it halfway then slowly lowering himself back to the ground, fuming. Peter knew Flash would have done something to get back at him if the coach hadn't followed them over, watching with a keen eye.

Next was the balance beam. Flash wobbled across it in good time, which apparently recovered his ego enough to give Peter a superior smile. Peter ignored him and jumped onto the bench, taking a moment to get his balance before he set off across it, staying light on his toes, arms extended more for show than balance.

"Wowww," Flash clapped slowly from where he'd already started exercising on the mats. "Puny can walk across a bench! Impressive," he grinned sarcastically. "What's next, a roly-poly?" He demonstrated.

Peter bit his lip, weighing his options, then decided to push his luck a bit more. Still standing on the beam, he caught Flash's eye, then closed his own, bouncing a couple of times on the balls of his feet before launching into a triple backflip. He heard several gasps as he started spinning, then more as he landed perfectly on his feet in the middle of the beam. He opened his eyes to see half the class watching him. Somebody whistled.

Heating up with the attention, Peter retreated to the corner where he'd stashed his bottle, and took a drink before tugging off his hoodie. There was an exclamation of surprise, and he realised his mistake as everyone turned to look at him. He shrank, but there was no turning back now.

"Since when did Parker get fit?" Somebody stage-whispered.

Peter shrugged awkwardly. "Gym?"

This seemed to be an acceptable answer, and the hum of chatter slowly resumed. The coach headed over and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I don't know what's gotten into you today, Peter," she said, "but I like it. Keep this up and you'll be Olympic standard in no time."

Peter resisted the urge to tell her he was already at Olympic standard - not that he could ever compete with a clear conscience - and rejoined Flash at the shot-put. He had to take care not to throw the heavy ball too hard and risk injuring someone, but he misjudged his own strength and sent it flying halfway across the room anyway. Luckily the attention had moved on from him by now, and Flash was too busy throwing his own shot-put to notice.

The rest of the activities went by without significance, and soon the coach was blowing the whistle and checking her watch.

"Okays guys, we've got ten minutes left, so feel free to play dodgeball whilst I clear up the equipment."

Still feeling the lingering stares of his classmates, Peter resolved that he would stay at the back of the crowd and do his best not to throw too many balls. Unfortunately, he was so absorbed in deliberately holding back his strength and aim when he did throw that he didn't remember to ignore his Spidey sense. Instead, he blindly obeyed the survival instinct that had kept him alive fight after fight until he looked up as coach blew the whistle to realise he was the last man standing on his own team, and everybody - everybody - was staring at him. He winced, and caught the ball that was heading at his face automatically. Then he realised, and let it drop with another wince.

Ned was gawking at him. MJ, who he was pretty sure din't know he was Spider-Man (at least not until just now), looked smug. Everybody else looked like they were going into shock.

There was a murmur of, "do you think he's on steroids?"

Peter looked between them all, then said in his little voice, "I think I overdid the caffeine this morning."

Flash blinked, looking absolutely terrified, but everybody else somehow seemed to accept this as a reasonable response, and began to file towards the doors.

Peter sighed, thanking all his lucky stars that he was going to actually get away with this.

Apparently he missed one, though, because the next thing he knew, an alarm sounded.

Chapter Text

The alarm grew louder, and the students approaching the door recoiled as sounds emerged from the hallway. There was a flash of light, then a figure was stood in the doorway wearing a suit of armour that looked like a crude Ironman suit. They were holding some kind of blaster gun, which the light had come from.

"Children, go and stand against the walls if you want to live," the figure said in a robotic voice.

Somebody said something that sounded suspiciously like 'bold of you to assume I want to live,' but everybody obeyed them. Even Peter, after a hesitation, moved to stand beside Flash near the climbing rope, ignoring Ned's wide-eyed gestures from beside the doors to the changing room.

The coach began to back towards the wall as well, but the metal person levelled the blaster at her.

"Stay still," it growled, and shot a blast at her. Peter lunged forward, too far away to do anything without his web shooters. The coach dodged just in time, and a small chunk of the wall exploded. Luckily the robot dude didn't notice Peter's sudden movement, so he slunk back toward the wall, giving Ned a meaningful look. Need frowned, then nodded in understanding and began edging toward the doors to the changing rooms.

"What do you want?" the coach asked, surprisingly calm, as she took cover behind the parkour blocks.

"You know what I want," the attacker growled, moving closer. "I, Metalhead, spent the best years of my life in prison! You are just the first of a long list of SHIELD's cronies I will take down!"

"It was nothing personal," the coach grunted. Peter couldn't see her, but it sounded like she was doing something other than hiding. "Besides, I'm retired now." Whilst the pair were talking, Peter began to whisper instructions to Flash.

"When I tell you, you need to make a break for the doors into the corridor," Peter hissed into he other boy's ear.

"What?" Flash complained in a low voice. "I don't have a death wish, Parker! Why should I listen to you, anyway?"

"He won't shoot you, I swear. You have to trust me!"

'Metalhead' took another noisy step towards the coach, and Peter took the opportunity to shove Flash towards the doors.

In the next second, several things happened. Firstly, Flash gave a loud yelp that caused Metalhead to spin around to see what was going on, but kept the blaster trained at the coach. As Peter had suspected, it wasn't dumb enough to point the weapon away from an agent of SHIELD, even a retired one. Flash, caught in the glare of those dark eye sockets, panicked and sprinted for the doors. This diversion allowed several other things to happen. Whilst Metalhead was focused on the doors to the corridor, Ned slipped through the doors to the changing rooms. The coach took the opportunity to shoot at the attacker with a handgun she'd assembled then silently roll to a new hiding place before it could turn back around. And during all of these things, Peter made a break for the climbing rope, and scrambled up in less than a second without anyone noticing.

From his new position perched upside-down on the high ceiling, Peter could see Flash reach the doors and barge into them, only to rebound. Peter had noticed Metalhead lock them on the way in, another reason why he'd gambled that they wouldn't shoot a student that tried to escape.

With a roar, Metalhead charged at the coach's previous hiding spot, smashing through the wooden blocks only to find the coach gone.

From the other side of the room, positioned so that Metalhead would be firing away from the students, the coach emptied another round of bullets into their armour. Metalhead span around, snarling in frustration, and fired off several blasts in her direction. Now, Metalhead wasn't a great shot, but unfortunately they were intelligent enough to have hacked into SHIELD and gotten a list of people to get revenge on, however misguided. So when one of their shots went wide and rebounded to smash into a wall near some of the students, they picked up on the coach's terrified cry. With a mechanical chuckle, the armour span so the blaster was aimed at a student. The boy froze.

"Attack, and they start to die," Metalhead warned, advancing towards the coach. Peter, still on the ceiling, winced. Ned still wasn't back, but... He grabbed the top of the rope again so as not to give himself away, and gave a short wave to attract the coach's attention. She frowned in concern, but gave a shallow nod and fired again at Metalhead. With a roar, Metalhead fired the blaster. Peter kicked his legs for momentum, then released the rope and dropped from the ceiling to intercept the blast. It tore through his shirt, leaving his side bleeding as he rolled to absorb his impact with the ground.

There was a frightened yell of "Peter!" and an astonished "Parker???"

Peter wanted to assure them he'd had worse, but now Metalhead's attention was on him. He got to his feet slowly, feigning pain as he clutched his side. Yes, the attacker was crude, but that metal armour would be tough to get through. He'd need every advantage he could get, element of surprise included.

"Um, hi?" Peter waved awkwardly. "Would you mind not shooting our coach? It's just, I think she just started to like me?"

He could have sworn she rolled her eyes.

"Stay out of this, child," the attacker sneered.

The coach gave an exasperated sigh, and fired another round, leaving a row of dents in the armour. Metalhead screeched and swivelled wildly, not sure where to point their weapon. Whilst they were facing the coach, Peter leapt forward with enhanced speed and strength, and knocked Metalhead off balance. They stumbled and tripped over the balance beam.

"Ned!" Peter yelled as he leapt straight into the air, easily clearing the top of the high jump poles. Ned threw a small device at him, and Peter grabbed the webshooter out of the air and slammed it onto his arm, bashing his wrists together so the machines could form. Peter somersaulted and landed on Metalhead's shoulders as they tried to stand. The blaster rose to point at his face, but he grabbed Metalhead's arm and aimed it at the ceiling. The coach ran up and searched for a kill switch in the armour, not asking any questions as Peter held Metalhead down.

This was a lot easier than he'd thought it would be - maybe he could pass it all of as steroids after all.

The coach yanked a wire out of the back of Metalhead's metal head just as the person inside the suit began laughing. Peter's sixth sense flared violently - apparently he'd spoken too soon. Again.

"Get back!" he roared as he ran towards the students, where a small device had begun to beep rapidly. He shot webs at the bomb as he neared, but they were his home-made ones, not the ones built into his suit, so he knew they couldn't contain the explosion. Stunned and afraid, his classmates began scrambling away from the explosive that nobody had noticed, leaving a clear path for Peter as he leapt towards it.

He felt the impact of the hard floor a second before the bomb exploded underneath him and the world went black.

Chapter Text

Beep

Beep

Beep

Feeling groggy, Peter opened his eyes. They immediately began to water at the harsh brightness, so he squeezed them shut again. The beeping began to increase in speed and seemingly volume. The light grew brighter, spearing through his eyelids, and he could feel the air on his face with painstaking clarity. Not now. This is a very bad time, sensory overload. I don't know where I am, I could be injured or in danger and that infernal beeping- wait... Peter recognised that noise. It was a heart monitor. He'd been injured enough times now to know that, and the knowledge steadied him. He moved his hands up to his chest, ignoring the pain the motion caused, and pulled the contacts off his chest.

With the monitor quiet, the light seemed to dim until he could attempt to open his eyes for a second time. He was in a hospital room, as he'd suspected, and the table by his bed was covered with cards, magazines, chocolate, flowers, and... homework. Peter reached over, fumbling around until his hand grazed the remote he knew would be there. He pressed the up button, and the bed slid upwards until he was in a reclined sitting position.

Flicking through the homework as much as he could with every inch of his body screaming in pain - maybe he shouldn't have pulled all those needles out, too - Peter decided he'd been out for at least a week. But the real question was, what had happened? He cast his mind back, but all he could remember was an ordinary school day. Walking to school, talking to Ned, Maths quiz, Spanish lesson, break, and... gym.

The memories came flooding back. Had he really jumped on top of a bomb? Were his classmates okay? He was about to ring for help when there was a commotion in the hallway. Peter froze, a chocolate from the box he'd opened halfway to his mouth. The door burst open, revealing a very angry Tony Stark with tears running down his face. The billionaire was halfway across the room before he registered Peter sat up, chocolate still in mid-air.

"Mr Stark?" Peter asked, confused.

"Kid," Tony blinked. "Oh god, kid!" His voice broke, and he covered the last few steps to give Peter a bone-crushing hug, which wasn't very hard seeing as most of his bones were already crushed. Or they felt like it, anyway.

"Ouch," Peter said quietly, and Tony withdrew quickly. "Mr Stark, are you okay?"

Tony let out a strangled sob. "Am I okay? Peter, they said- I thought you had-" he took a deep breath. "You flatlined, Pete. I thought you were dead!" He choked. Peter stared.

"Mr Stark, I..."

Tony took a deep breath, composing himself and wiping away the tears. Peter took the opportunity to rescue the chocolate from the sheets where he'd dropped it during the hug and return it to its box. Then Tony turned on him again, this time looking mad.

"What were you thinking?" He demanded. "I don't know what happened exactly, but apparently you jumped ON TOP OF A BOMB! Do you know how much stress you've put me through? For a while there they thought you weren't ever going to wake up, and just then, when I thought- Never, and I mean never, do anything like that again, okay?" Tony fumed, but his eyes were still damp.

"Wait," Peter frowned, realising something. "Just then, were you crying... Were you crying because of me?"

Tony stared at him, doing his best to stay mad at the oblivious cinnamon roll. "Yes, Peter."

The boy's brown eyes widened. "Oh no, Mr Stark I am so sorry! I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry that I hurt you. The beeping was hurting my head so I took off the contacts, I didn't think about how that would affect you! I'm so, so sorry, I understand if you-"

"Peter! Peter, do not apologise for me caring about you."

Peter's eyes widened. "You care about me?"

Tony fought the urge to cry again. "Was it not obvious?"

Peter closed his eyes. "My brain hurts," he muttered.

In less than a week, thanks to his super healing, Peter was back on his feet, although not literally. He was required by law to return to school as soon as he was able, even if that was in a wheelchair until he recovered enough to walk. He was on high-metabolism super-strong pain meds, so he'd couldn't feel it when Ned hugged him, although he appreciated the sentiment.

Obviously he attracted a lot of attention with his wheelchair, but he'd expected more whispers, stares and autograph requests. After all, he'd practically revealed his identity to his whole class. Instead, all he got were sympathetic glances. Not that he was complaining.

"What's going on?" he asked Ned after a while.

"What do you mean?"

"Doesn't everyone know my identity?"

"Didn't you read my card?" Ned asked in exasperation.

"Uh, I was.. busy?"

"Doing what?"

"...Sleeping."

"Fine. Basically, everyone realised you saved our lives, risking your own in the process. So they all agreed to keep it a secret, to protect you if you made it. All most people know is that there was an attack on the school, and you were injured before the authorities could deal with it."

"What happened to the metal dude?"

"I don't really know. Turns out the coach used to be a SHIELD agent, so she got in contact with some people who turned up to cart it off."

Peter sighed. "Just as I finally made a good impression on one of the teachers."

Ned gave him a weird look but stayed quiet. The first few lessons passed without incident. It was a bit of an anticlimax, actually. After all the stressing Peter had done about what it would be like to have everyone know his identity, it was all a bit underwhelming. Even the students that knew his secret did little more than give him close-lipped smiles. They were probably disappointed that their hero had turned out to be just him.

At lunch, Peter sat with MJ and Ned at their usual table. However, halfway through the meal, they had a surprise guest.

"Flash?" Peter asked in disbelief, turning his bulky wheelchair around to see better.

"Uh, hey Parker," Flash said, sitting down quickly so he could be at Peter's eye level. "I just wanted to say... thanks. For y'know, what you did for us. It was pretty cool of you, I guess." Flash swallowed. "Plus, y'know, I wanted to point out that I was right about the internship-"

"Oh shove off Flash," MJ muttered. Surprisingly, Flash did as he was told for once.

Science passed without issue, if you ignore the fact that Peter couldn't reach the high benches whilst he was stuck in the chair. Ned offered to wheel him to the next class, and as even Peter's super strong arms were beginning to ache, he agreed.

"Ned," Peter said after a minute, concerned. "Gym's the other way?"

"Oh, my bad," Ned chuckled, but kept going.

"Ned!" Peter protested as they did a full loop of the school. "We're going to be late!"

"So we are," Ned pondered thoughtfully.

"Ned!" But there was nothing Peter could do as Ned pushed him further and further from the gym.

They were on their third lap of the school when Ned's phone buzzed and he stopped pushing Peter to check it. Then Ned grabbed the wheelchair handles again and did a prompt U-turn, nearly tipping Peter out of his seat. Peter yelped as they set off at a brisk pace towards the gym.

"What is going on?" He demanded, slightly terrified. Ned said nothing, only sped up until they reached the gym doors. Ned knocked three times, counted to four, then pushed Peter forwards as the door opened seemingly by themselves.

"SURPRISE!"

The sudden yell deafened Peter, but he grinned broadly as he took in the gym, which had been decorated with streamers, bunting, and Spider-Man posters. One of the folding tables from the canteen had been dragged in and covered with party snacks, and stood at the far wall, behind the students rushing towards him, was... "Coach?" Peter asked in disbelief. He'd thought that she'd have left after her cover was blown, but there she was, in all her sport-kit-and-whistle glory, smiling faintly at him.

The first students reached him, and soon he was encased in a bubble of questions, thanks, praise, and hugs. Peter, moved almost to tears by the thought of his classmates and pain of his injuries being jostled, joined the party and relished in the feel of being loved for every part of him.

Chapter Text

Peter Parker loved PE.

Of course, it was back to normal the next week (unfortunately, the coach refused to let them have a party every lesson (totally unfair)), not that Peter could join in for the first few weeks with the worst of his injuries still healing. But school was so much brighter knowing that he was loved and appreciated by his classmates, despite them not showing it most of the time. PE was the one lesson when everyone knew who and what he was, and didn't run from it. The one time that he, Peter Parker, could feel that flicker of pride in himself he only felt as Spider-Man. The one time he could truly be himself, without fear of the consequences.

The week that Peter finally came into school without a wheelchair, without crutches or a splint or a cast or a sling, the coach gave a broad smile.

"Excellent to see you looking better, Parker. Time to see, I think, what you can really do when you push your limits, like you did in that last class of mine."

"That wasn't me pushing my limits," Peter said, confused. "I just wasn't holding back as much as I usually do."

The coach and class stared at him, and he blushed as he realised how that sounded.

"I didn't mean to-"

"No, no," the coach waved him off, then pointed to the track, stopwatch in hand. "Let's see how fast you can go. No holding back."

No holding back. The words were like a key turning in a door he'd been too afraid to open before now, like the rustle of wings spreading as the world opened up around him. Peter smiled broadly, and ran to the track, pausing for a moment to prepare before bursting into a sprint.

This was faster than he'd ever run before. This was freedom, and flying, and glorious, glorious life. The wind rushed against his face, his feet pounded the ground, and he soared. He barely registered the first lap fly by beneath his feet, or the second, or the third or fourth. He just ran and ran, gaining speed as he went, trusting his natural agility to keep him balanced as he seen around the circular track.

Faster, and faster, and faster - BOOM! Peter stumbled to a stop in shock, looking around for the source of the sound. Everybody was staring at him.

"What happened?" He asked, panting slightly. He was- winded. For the first time since he'd been bitten by that spider, he felt tired. His legs ached slightly.

"That," the coach said slowly, in shock, "was the sound barrier." She held up the stopwatch. It had been barely seven seconds.

The entire class gawked.

"I've never- I've never run that fast before," Peter panted.

"Not even as Spider-Man?"

Peter shook his head mutely. "I hold back when I'm him as well. I don't want to hurt anybody."

The coach raised her eyebrows, then grunted as she hauled a punching bag up and clipped it to a rope near the wall.

"See how hard you can hit this. I'm curious."

Peter looked at Ned, worried as to how his classmates would react. Even he didn't know how far his own strength reached.

"Back to the wall, no run up."

Peter did as he was told, facing the punching bag with mild apprehension. His classmates and the coach stood to the side. Peter took a deep breath and tensed, then span and launched his fist into the bag. There was a moment of stillness, then the bag snapped off the rope and flew the whole length of the gym, not losing any altitude, then crashed into the opposite wall. No, not into. Through the wall, leaving a perfectly-punching-bag-shaped hole in the wall.

Everyone, Peter included, rushed over to look through the wall. The bag was lying several metres away, spilling sand everywhere. Peter had punched a hole right through it.

Silence. Peter closed his eyes. They were going to hate him. They were going to tell everyone and nobody would look at him without fear ever again.

"Say something," he whispered.

There was a beat of silence, then-

"That. Was. So. Cool!" Somebody yelled, and then he was surrounded by students all wanted to know what else he could do.

"Can you catch balls blindfolded?"

"How long can you do a handstand for?"

"Can you walk on your hands?"

"Can you benchpress the entire class?"

In the next half hour, he did all that and more. Eventually, the coach announced that everyone else had to do work as well, much to their dismay, and Peter could run laps on the ceiling.

Peter nodded, crouching then leaping up so his hands stuck to the ceiling, then bringing his legs up so he could stand. He had to tuck his shirt into his shorts to stop it falling off, then assessed his task. He had to hand it to the coach, she knew how to set a challenge. He couldn't run normally on the ceiling - as soon as he lifted both feet off the ground he would fall. He started at a brisk walk, then did his best to speed up into a sort of shuffle-jog. Despite all the time he spent fighting crime on the streets, he'd never really had any reason to test his limits upside down. Sideways on walls, sure, but never really upside-down for more than a few seconds. His powers stopped the blood from going to his head, but it didn't stop gravity from affecting him as soon as he lifted each foot, so even walking felt alien to him.

Maybe PE classes would prove to be invaluable training sessions after all. A safe haven of discovery where he could be himself without fear.

Below, the door to the gym opened.

"Hey, coach," the principle greeted. Peter tripped on one of the light fixtures and went sprawling, his contact with the ceiling lost as he plummeted to the floor. "Just came by to check in - a few teachers reported hearing loud noises a few-"

Peter tumbled out of the sky, automatically doing a flip and rolling into his landing with a small 'oof'.

"What the-"