Marvel/Peter Parker One Shots!

5+1 Peter Parker: Flash Thompson

A/N Written by @ForTheLore. Plot minorly changed.

Flash Thompson was absolutely, one hundred percent, not crying as he was shoved to the floor of his high school's gymnasium. Those definitely were not tears of fear that were leaking from his eyes, or soft whimpers escaping from his throat. The bruises from the butts of the guns that had been brought in were not sore, because Flash Thompson was positive that this was all a dream.

The morning, up until about ten o’clock, had been normal. He had woken up, stomach growling for the breakfast his mother would have left out for him on the table in her rush to get to the hospital. His father was already on the phone with a customer, doing his best to make them happy so he could get a bigger check out of them.

“I understand, Mr. Bathers...I really do. I just think...” His father sighed as he brushed his strong hands through his hair. The peppering that had graced the locks, flickered under the fluorescent lights of his kitchen. His hand rested over the speaker, effectively silencing him from his customer. “You need to hurry and get, kiddo. You’re going to be late if you don’t.”

Flash waved off his father’s admonishing worry. He would be fine, even if he took another ten minutes. But his father was a worry wort, which was what helped make him a good lawyer. He worried until he came to a good conclusion that would please his client, the judge, and the defendant they were going against.

The teenager recalled many a time, as a child, sitting in the court room and watching his father argue his case. While standing up, his chin was held high, and he came off as confident; almost bullheadedly so. But when he sat down, Flash was the only one to notice the way he wrung his hands under the table. Or how he would grab a paper towel, and rip it to shreds until it was nothing more than small powdery flakes that would drop to the floor of the court room.

Needless to say, Flash had never wanted, and had never had to deal with something as violent as what was happening right now. He was a normal civilian; didn’t see the nitty gritty of the life that was anything below upper class. And he was perfectly okay with not knowing.

He was okay driving his new Maserati around New York, and rubbing it into Peter Parker’s face every time he could.

“Hey Penis!” The teenager called out to the other whilst he was stopped at a red light. The brunette glanced up, and rolled his eyes, but that didn’t mean Flash didn’t notice the tension. Peter usually reacted; would usually groan and still wave because he was stupidly polite. May would have throttled him if she knew. But Flash had lost her phone number many years ago, before they had separated.

“What’s wrong? Couldn’t Tony Stark spare five minutes to drive you to class?” The spoiled teen couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that escaped his mouth at the pursing of Peter’s lips, or the flush that filtered across his cheeks.

“Shut up, Flash!” Another voice called out. On the other side of the street, Ned was waving Peter over. Just next to the overweight friend, stood Michelle Jones—new captain of the decathlon team. Flash muttered under his breath, revving his engine. He would certainly be hearing about it later if the glare he was receiving from her was anything to go by.

Flash had mad respect for Michelle. Was she was nonchalant about life, as he had been about his money when his father first started to bring it in. She was a leader; one of the few to actually be feared and revered in high school. She was going places, and Flash would hop on that train and follow it as far as it would carry him.