Chapter 3: Flash Fall

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3.

"Oi, Penis!"

Peter heard the paper ball barreling towards his head as soon as it left Flash's hand. It sailed across the Chem. Lab at a frustratingly slow speed. Peter could have moved his head – just slightly – and it would have sailed right past and towards the front of the room where Mr. Lowe was attempting explain the molecular fusion.

But he did. He stayed where he was and let the paper hit him directly in the back of the head. Just like he always did.

Ned shot him a pitiful look from his next to Peter.

"Just ignore him." Ned leaned in and whispered – and then received a paper ball to the head, too, for his efforts.

"Come on, Penis – we just want to talk." Flash's voice carried across the murmuring classroom. Flash's posse snorted with laughter at the back of the classroom. "Got any hot Avenger gossip for us? I mean – you're just so close to them all, they must tell you everything – so come on, spill. Seen Black Widow in the shower yet?"

When Peter didn't reply another paper ball collided with the side of his head. Peter's fists clenched around the desk.

"Ignore him – you still haven't told me what happened the other night!" Ned's voiced hissed excitedly in his ear.

"I told you," Peter sighed, doing his best to actually pay attention to Mr. Lowe. And the web-formula currently setting in the draw of his desk. "Some random drug dealer threw a handful of power in my face, and I spent the night stumbling around talking to clouds."

Ned's eyes widened. "Awesome."

Peter swiveled to stare at him. "No dude, not awesome. I passed out on Mr. Stark's floor – and I have no idea what I said."

"Why do you think you said anything?"

"Because, he keeps asking me what Leonard Nimoy and I are getting up too now day's!"

"What?"

"I don't know!"

"Dude," Ned nodding slowly, his eyes somehow getting even wider. "Awesome."

Peter hung his head, using the momentary reprieve to check on his web formula. It was still sticking firmly to the desk.

Peter poked at the webbing distractedly.

"And I think I punched Captain America," Peter added. "Again." Ned sucked in a startled breath and gave up all subtle pretenses. He swiveled fully towards Peter in his chair and gaped.

"What!?" Ned squeaked. "Why!?"

"I don't know!" Peter hissed, running an exhausted hand through his hair. "And Mr. Stark wont tell me. He let it slip – and then wouldn't tell me anything about it."

"Wow."

"No, Ned. Not wow. They live in the Tower now. I have to see them when I go over. And now the Captain and Bruce Banner know who I am."

"Oh, yeah. That kind of sucks."

"And I feel bad. Before I left I heard the Captain chewing Mr. Stark out for letting me go to Germany."

Ned shrugged a little.

"He kind of has a point. You were fourteen."

"And he's a dick." Peter retorted, pouring more of the web-formula into his beaker with a little too much force. "Therefore his opinion is irrelevant."

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