Hush Little Baby (Discontinued)

Ch. 25

After being reamed out by May, he spent the rest of the day taking it easy.

By 9:00 he was up and about, with only a slight soreness to show for his near-death experience.

Tony explained Harley's presence, because apparently he was moving to New York, and starting at Midtown.

"Wait." Peter gave Tony the stink-eye. "You gave him a reference to the school?"

When Tony nodded, he ran his hand over his face. "Is he gonna have to pretend that he's your intern too?"

"What's the problem with that?" Harley poked his side with a spoon. "Sides, now I can meet the infamous Ned and Michelle."

Peter glowered at his dad. "What exactly have you been telling him?"

Tony had the good grace to look slightly ashamed, raising his hands in the air. "Nothing implicating, promise."

"Yeah right." The teenager went back to dully poking at his cereal.

"C'mon Pete." Harley gave him a full-on blast of puppy eyes. "Promise I won't tease."

"You are a child," he huffed. "A full on five year old."

"Admit it, you love me."

"Dude." Peter glanced sidelong at him. "I have known you for less than twenty four hours."

"True."

"Anyway," Peter continued. "The problem with this whole thing is that no one believes that I'm an intern. Absolutely no one. Flash is going to target you along with me."

"What did you just say?" Tony straightened in his chair, eyes narrowing.

"Wait- dad, that's not-"

"This kid is bothering you?"

Peter set his mouth in a firm line, looking away. "Dad, I'm fine."

"No, you just said that he was targeting you."

"Dad, drop it." Peter stared his dad down. "It's fine. I'm dealing with it, and I don't need you getting all mad about it."

"Peter-"

"I said it's fine." He shoved his chair back, standing up, and leaving the room.

The atmosphere next morning was chilly.

Peter ate in silence, and Tony was nowhere to be seen, while Harley was still asleep.

Happy picked him up from the ground floor, giving him a small smile, but not saying anything.

"Where were you yesterday?"

The cutting question came from none other than resident queen Michelle Jones as she stormed up to him in the hall before school began.

Glancing sideways, Peter lifted one shoulder tiredly. "Dad wanted me to meet one of his new interns. He just moved to New York, and is starting here today."

Despite her obvious disbelief at the excuse, she let it slide, giving a slight nod, and heading to class as the bell rang.

Next up was Ned.

His best friend hurried up to him, already talking as he came to a stop. "-can't believe it, you were all over the news are you okay?"

"Dude," Peter hissed. "Can you be any louder?"

"Sorry, sorry, but-" Ned dropped his voice, giving his best friend a concerned once-over. "Are you okay? The footage was pretty brutal."

"Yeah." Peter sighed, tension easing from his shoulders. "Yeah I'm okay."

"You sure?" Somehow Ned seemed to see through his facade. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"M-hm." Peter gave him a smile, small, but genuine. "I know Ned. Just a few problems with my dad."

"Yeah?"

"He found out about Flash."

"Oh... and?"

Peter pulled his backpack onto one shoulder, pushing his locker shut. "He freaked out, I got mad, he wants to do something, I know that would just make it worse, etc... we fought about it, I haven't seen him this morning, and a new guy is starting here today."

Ned pushed the door open. "New guy?"

"His name's Harley. Dad knows him from when he crash landed in Tennessee. Apparently he helped with the suit or something. Dad is referring him here under the guise of 'Intern'."

"That's not great." His best friend gave him a curious frown. "It's not really working for you as it is. No one believes you."

"Yup. Pretty much what I said. Everything'll be worse. Dad got all mad about it."

Peter glanced up, noting the addition to the class. "Speak of the devil. Oh... crap."

In the back of the room, Harley Keener was glancing through a textbook, looking up every now and then to answer questions from none other than Flash Thompson.

"What? Oh..." Ned followed the direction of his gaze, shoulders slumping. "Crap."