Peter Parker/Spider-Man Headcanons and Oneshots

School and stab wounds

An: trigger warning: blood. As usual, marvel/Avengers don't belong to me

Mrs. Harrison looked up at her first period math class. She sighed when she saw Peter wasn't there.

"Parker, Peter?" She asked tiredly. No response.

"Um, I think he overslept and was trying to catch a subway?" Ned, his closest friend volunteered. Mrs. Harrison shook her head, marking him absent. Again.

About five minutes into class, the door opened, and a scruffy, tired, wide-eyed Peter walked in, nearly tripling in his way to his desk.

"Peter, why are you late?" Mrs. Harrison asked.

"Um... why am I late?" Peter asked. Mrs. Harrison nodded.

"Um... good question. I don't know?" Peter tries weakly, his breathing short, his face pale and sweaty.

"Pete, you okay?" Ned asks. Peter smiles, but it looks more like a grimace.

"Yeah. Fine. Just perfect." Peter grits out, one hand firmly under his large hoodie.

As class resumes, Peter raises his hand to answer a question.

"Yes Peter, oh my god, is that blood on your hands?!" Mrs. Harrison panics. Peter looks at the dripping, red stained hand that had been covering his stomach.

"Shoot. Um, yes. Yes it is." Peter answers. He takes his hoodie off, revealing a growing red stain on his white shirt.

"Peter Parker, what happened to you?!" Mrs. Harrison yells.

"Um.... I got shot last night, and this morning, on the way to school, I got stabbed. Can I have a band aid?" Peter explains, lifting up the corner of his shirt to reveal a messy stab wound, and a small bullet wound still glinting with the bullet.

"Shnike, I thought I took the bullet out already. Or did I pass out? No, I passed out. Ned, can you grab me my tweezers?" Peter asks his friend. Ned shakes his head, sighing. The class is frozen, watching their two resident nerds poke at a bullet wound.

"Here, I can remove it, Natasha taught me how to do it the last time it happened. Here, I'll show you, you can do the next one." Peter shows Ned how to remove the bullet.

"Peter. There won't be a next time... right?" A cheerleader by her name of Lexie asked.

"Eh. Yeah, there will be. Comes with my line of work, I guess. I have been shot what, Ned you remember?" Peter shrugs.

"25 times this year. 50 total. Zero clue how you are still alive, even with your healing." Ned calls from Peter's backpack, grabbing a bunch of stitches.

"Pete? You know how these go in?" Ned asks. Peter nods.

"Yeah. I normally do it myself. Bruce taught me, for this exact reason." Peter grand the stitches and needle, and quickly weaves his skin back together. He grabs a wet wipe, cleaning the blood off himself.

"And they should be healed in about a day. Great job Ned!" Peter high-gives his friend.

"So, onto the lesson?" Peter asks, already perking up now that he isn't dying from blood loss.

"Puny, explain." Flash demands.

"Um, it's my job?" Peter says hesitantly.

"What's your job then?" Lexie asks.

"Shoot.... um, would you believe me if I said I was an undercover cop?"

The class is silent with raised eyebrows.

"So that's a no..." Peter hangs his head. "I'm Spiderman. And last night I stopped an robbery, but the one guy got a shot in. I thought I had taken it out, but I must have crashed. But on my way to school, some pansycake came up and stabbed me before running off. Sorry I worried you." Peter explains quietly. The class looks shocked.

"So... can we get back to the lesson?" Peter asks hopefully. His classmates glare at him, demanding answers.

This is going to be a looong day.