AN: All characters are 18+.
- - -
It took some time for it to really sink in that a normal life just wasn’t in the cards anymore. Superpowers tended to throw wrenches into things like that. But as Ben had told Peter once, Parker men were nothing if not adaptable.
New rules meant a new routine. The distractions at school were unavoidable, of course. That didn’t mean he had to come back home everyday ready to rip a hole through his pants. By the time that last bell rang, Peter was frothing with energy and vigor. It only made sense to expend some of it before he got back to Ben and May - lest he spend all afternoon cooped up in his room again.
So he stopped taking the bus. A good choice looking back. Cramped space, had to spend most of that time with Flash there too, and there were more than a few girls to send his senses into a tailspin. The last two weeks, the fresh air did him good. And the long walk home gave him the chance to really put his new superpowers through their paces.
The earliest discovery was a big one: stuff didn’t just stick to him, he could stick to stuff! Walls, specifically. Ceilings, too. Which was absolutely sick! Even cooler than the super-strength! Almost as cool as the hyper-awareness. Almost.
The afternoon breeze blew through Peter’s hair. He had a nice view, crouched up on this building ledge. The high perch overlooked the East River and he could see Roosevelt - and Long Island too, just beyond.
Beyond. That was the deal, wasn’t it? Testing his powers was one thing, but he had to start thinking about the future. Not just about college, but about… his situation.
The obvious choice was superheroes. That’s what people with powers did… when they weren’t total psycho nutcases, anyway. Captain America, the Fantastic Four, even that new mutant team, the X-dudes or whatever.
Was there any money in it, though? That was the real question. The Avengers had Tony Stark, the Fantastic Four had Reed Richards plus all the scientific grants on top of that, and he heard the X-guys lived in a big-ass mansion. So how was Peter Parker, Stick-To-Stuff-Man, getting in on that action? Were any of them even recruiting? And if they were, was it going to be like… superhero tryouts?
Peter frowned, thinking back to Freshman year when he and Harry made a go for the JV football team. The only guy who had fun that day was Flash Thompson.
A crash broke through Peter’s bitter memories. The sound of breaking glass cutting clear through the blowing wind and the bustle of New York traffic. Peter went tense as he zeroed in on the source. Way below him. Streetside.
Peter spotted them quickly. Two masked men, Brawny and Scrawny. They were breaking into a closed bodega shop.
Crooks.
The next instant, Peter was digging through his backpack. He fished out the crude mask he made last week, red stretchy material with eye holes he cut out with scissors. He pulled it over his head. Then he darted down the side of the building. Walking on walls had its uses.
Under the mask, he was smirking. Of all the ways to expend his energy, this was one of his favorites.
Brawny and Scrawny were just coming out by the time Peter reached street level. They never saw him coming.
Peter dropped down right in front of them, blocking their getaway. The way they both jumped in shock had him stifling a laugh. It would never get old.
“What the fuck, man!” Cried Scrawny, reflexively clutching the bag of cash - and his gun - to his chest.
The other one, Brawny, found his nerve far quicker.
“Move it, freak!” He barked. “This ain’t your fucking problem!”
“Yeah, but I’m bored.” Peter rolled his shoulders, loosening his arms. “Been looking for an excuse to cut loose.”
Under his ski-mask, Brawny narrowed his eyes. He let out a dark chuckle.
“That right? Me too.”
Peter knew about the gun before he even saw it. Hyper-awareness kicked in strong with the buzz at the back of his head. The thug may as well have been moving in slow motion as he brought the handgun up to aim. Peter remained at ease. This was his fifth robbery just this week - and they were only getting easier.
The buzz became a blitz as Brawny made to squeeze the trigger. There was a split-second to react. More than enough time.
The poor sap clenched his finger around nothing. The gun was already out of his hand. Peter couldn’t help but snort, seeing the man’s eyes go wide. Brawny could only gape as his gun was disassembled right in front of him. Peter had gotten good at that, too.
“How the fuck-”
“This is a lot of firepower to rob a bodega.” Peter inspected the firearm’s pieces as he pulled it apart, ignoring the sputtering rubes before him. “What, does this place take gold or something?”
“Don’t just stand there!” Brawny slapped Scrawny’s shoulder. “Fucking shoot him, Richie!”
Scrawny - Richie - fumbled with his gun. Peter almost felt bad for the guy. But an armed thug was an armed thug. Peter chucked the pistol magazine straight into Scrawny’s face. At quarter-strength, of course.
The guy still dropped like a rock, though. Out like a light. Even under the mask, it was clear his nose was bloodied. Brawny could only look on in horror.
“Jesus, you fucking killed him!” He cried, stumbling back.
“Relax. He’s fine.” Peter advanced slowly, with surety. He was the big dog here. It was a welcome change of pace. “Might have lost some teeth, though.”
All the menace he’d seen from Brawny had poured out of the guy - thankfully, not literally, otherwise he’d have smelled it. The man still backed away… until he hit the brick wall behind him. His eyes darted about frantically, for an escape, maybe even for help. There was nothing. He threw up his hands.
“Listen, man. We’re cool, right?” He pleaded quietly. “You caught us. It’s over.”
Peter kept closing in. Less than a foot between them now.
“But I was just getting warmed up.” Peter told the guy, grinning ear-to-ear under his mask. Brawny might as well have been trembling now, so scared out of his ass that he couldn’t tell Peter was just screwing with him.
“I don’t wanna fucking fight you, man. I swear! You won, okay!”
“Fine. Be a good crook and sit tight for the boys in blue. Or I’ll put you on the same dental plan as your friend over there.”
It was quite the thing, being on the right side of an ass-whooping. Even if the superhero thing didn’t work out, Peter was sure about one thing: He was never going to be someone’s punching bag ever again.
- - -
It was six in the PM when Peter finally strolled down his block. This time of the year meant the sun was still there, if a bit low in the sky.
Eventually, though, daylight hours would be getting scarce. Peter knew that his after school walks would get harder to justify. Especially to May. But that was a problem for another time.
He had reached his front porch. Feeling fresh and somewhat sated, Peter put on a smile as he pushed through the front door.
“Hey, everyone! Your favorite nephew has returned!” He announced, tossing his backpack over to the couch.
Ben and May were there to greet him as they always were. But Ben wasn’t watching the news and May wasn’t moving about like the busybody she was. Instead, Peter found them both seated at the dinner table. There was a sheet of paper resting between them. And the way they both turned to look at him made Peter feel like he’d interrupted something.
“What’s up?” He asked, moving past the couch and the muted TV.
“Peter, have a seat.” May told him, direct but not forceful.
Peter knew that tone. He did not like it.
“Aw, man. Did something happen?”
“Nothing happened.” Ben assured him with a sigh. He shared a pointed look with May but the woman held firm. Ben waved Peter over to the empty chair. “And you’re not in any trouble. We just want to talk.”
“About this.” May tapped the paper on the table. She slid it over to Peter’s side.
It really was peculiar how she could order him around without actually saying anything, Peter thought as he went to sit in the open seat. He picked up the paper and started to skim.
“And this is… an email from-”
“Midtown High Academics Office. About your grades.” May finished for him.
A strange feeling, getting relief and a new sort of dread working in his gut at the same time. Peter skimmed the page again, not really reading it. Confusion kept clarity at bay.
Peter glanced up, only then realizing what the looks on his aunt and uncle’s faces had meant. Sure, he’d been distracted here and there - distracted by legs and hips clad in shorts and tight jeans, distracted by sweaters and tiny tops pulled snug over ripe, perky breasts, distracted by lip gloss and shiny hair and smooth skin and cleavage and-
So maybe he bombed a quiz or two because his situation had kept him from studying the night before. But he hadn’t even gone a month with this “affliction”. How much damage could it have possibly done?
“My grades?” He tried not to sound incredulous.
“Which are mostly fine, by the way.” Ben assured him again. Another pointed look towards May. “History, Math, Science, you’ve got all the good stuff locked down.”
“French and English.” May crossed her arms. “You’ve been letting your grades slip in both. By a lot.”
The shock was starting to wane. Frustration came in to take its place… along with a little embarrassment, too. The two classes weren’t surprising, he’d never been a fan of either even if he did well enough. Plus… he had English with Gwen. French with Liz.
“Oh. How much is a lot?” Peter asked tentatively.
“C in English. D in French.” Ben answered, though sounding sympathetic about it.
Peter recoiled with a wince. Those two letters came as slaps to the face. But his reaction only seemed to spur May on.
“You look surprised.” She noted coolly. “You’re usually on top of this stuff, Peter.”
“Straight A’s since sixth grade.” Ben reminded them both, some pride in his tone. “Even in Advanced Placement. So you understand why this is a bit alarming to us.”
Peter slumped in his seat. A part of it was playing it up for May and Ben, but it really did come as a kick to the gut. But as long as they thought his grades were the only issue…
“I’m sorry.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’ve just been a bit…”
“A bit what?” May pressed. Ever hard-nosed when it came to school stuff.
“Just… distracted.” A lame response. The look May and Ben shared told Peter as much. There was something else meaningful there, he could tell. The problem was, he didn’t know what.
His aunt and uncle watched him for a long moment, neither saying a word as they scrutinized him. Just when it was starting to become unbearable did May let the mask slip. She sat back with a sigh, letting her hands rest on the table. She quirked her lips, like she was mulling over her thoughts, before giving a short nod.
“Alright. I guess that means you need to focus up from here on out. This is your future, Peter. This close to graduating, think about what this means for college! We don’t want to get another email like this again.”
“Totally. Hundred percent focus. And you won’t.” Peter gave ground on all fronts. Anything to move on from this conversation.
Thinking about those classes had him thinking about Gwen again. Liz, too. He passed by the gym on his way out of Midtown, saw them both in their cheerleader uniforms, saw the way those pleated skirts swished and swashed around their thighs. Them and every other girl on the team. All those healthy, athletic bodies. Developed bodies, all moving, all working, stretching, jumping. All that bouncing.
Bouncing…
Ben’s hand clapped down on his shoulder then. Peter hadn’t even noticed the man had stood and rounded to his side of the table.
“Good to hear, bud.” He looked even more relieved than Peter.
Peter smiled back but he was in his thoughts. This meant that superpower training had to take a backseat for a bit, at least until he got his grades up. Annoying, sure, but he could deal with-
“We want you to get a tutor, though.”
Peter froze just as he was standing up. His eyes darted to May’s. There was no room for argument in the woman’s expression.
Still, like a dummy, Peter blurted out his confusion.
“What? Why?” He only barely avoided sounding aghast.
May sighed again.
“We trust you, Peter.” She said in a softer voice. “But it won’t hurt to have another person in your corner. Somebody to keep you focused.”
“You’re not in trouble. You’re not grounded or anything like that.” Ben rubbed Peter’s shoulders before leaning against the table. “We know you’re a good kid. And we know you’re not shirking classes. Your attendance record is basically perfect and you’ve got A’s in every other subject. But this is the deal. Maybe you have been distracted. And maybe there’s a part of you that thinks since he’s got the math and the science and all the hard stuff down pat, he doesn’t even need to worry about English and French and all that artsy stuff. That’s just not going to cut it, Pete. Parker men don’t do things halfway.”
“So you’re getting a tutor.” May told him with finality. Though her face softened a bit more. “We’ll even let you choose.”
“Sounds like a fair deal, yeah?” Ben nudged him with his knee, grinning.
There was nothing to do but go along with it. Especially since he’d already waved the white flag. Peter nodded.
“Yeah. Totally.”
“Great!” The chair skidded as May shot up. Now it was her turn to look relieved. She clapped her hands together, smiling brightly. “Who wants Pizza?”
The ordeal was over, thank God. Though Peter couldn’t help but feel sour about it. At least until he started thinking about it.
Gwen was practically top of the school when it came to English. And Liz, shockingly, did better in French.
Intriguing prospects took shape in Peter’s mind. Enticing prospects. Longshots, all of them. But then again… didn’t he luck out with superpowers just a few weeks back?
Maybe a tutor wouldn’t be so bad. And as May said…
I get to choose.