Superfamily One Shots

"I didn't tell you everything..."

Peter was used to keeping secrets, he'd been keeping them for years. He had kept his secret identity, he'd kept his many injuries under wraps, and most importantly, he'd kept Flash and his treatment of Peter completely confidential.

Secrets were a big part of Peter's life, and he liked it that way. It was the best way to keep people safe, keep May and Tony out of his business, and avoid the judgement of people thinking he was weak.

It had been a long Thursday at school, Peter had gotten himself some pretty nasty bruises and a few fractures ribs on patrol the night before and that, mixed with a lack of sleep, was really making the school day drag on. All the teen wanted now was to go home, pack his stuff for his usual weekend at the Tower with Tony. Just one more class period...

It was History, Peter's least favorite subject. Beyond the fact that Peter referred classes like biology, chemistry, and calculus, the history teacher Peter had, Mr. Weston, was one of the most boring people Peter had ever listened to, and he often fought off sleep while sitting through Mr. Weston's lectures.

"And so, from that point on, many Italians began to feel the pressures of..." Weston's voice was slow and monotone, and Peter was being lulled to sleep. Ned poked him in the ribs, unaware of Peter's preexisting bruises and fractured ribs.

"Ah," Peter hissed, sitting up straighter.

"Having an issue, Mr. Parker?" Mr. Weston raised an eyebrow, staring right at the boy.

"N-no, Mr. Weston," Peter mumbled, pain making his words a little slurred.

Once the old man was turned back to the whiteboard, Ned leaned closer to his friend.

"Are you okay?"

Peter nodded, not trusting his voice to stay steady.

"Dude, you look kinda pale, are you sure you're okay?" Ned knew his friend better than to take his nod for an honest answer.

"Yeah," Peter whispered, realizing his defeat. "I took a couple hits last night, that's all."

Ned scowled at his friend. "Dude, what happened?"

"Nothing much, I have a couple bruises and a few fractured ribs, nothing too intense. I'll be fine by tomorrow, it's just a little hard to breathe today."

Peter and Ned both turned back to the board, neither one wanting to incur the wrath of Mr. Weston again.

Peter had just started to nod off again when the bell pulled him out of the clutches of sleep. He shoved his books into his bag, moving slowly as he dragged himself out of his chair.

The halls were already starting to clear out, as many kids were rushing to make it to the buses on time. Peter made his way to his locker, not caring much about getting anywhere on time. May was still at work, and Peter enjoyed walking home.

"Hey, Puny Parker." Flash yelled down the hall, right as Peter was pulling the last of his textbooks out of his locker. Midterms were coming up, and he'd be studying most of the weekend.

"I think I was talking to you, Parker," Flash sneered, slamming his hand against the locker next to Peter. Despite his spider sense telling him it was coming, Peter still jumped and let out a gasp at the sudden noise, and winced when his lungs flared up in pain.

Peter was accustomed to Flash's torment, but something about the loud sound and the pain spasming through his chest put Peter's mind into overdrive.

"Heh, little orphan Parker seems a little fragile today, right boys? What a worthless waste of space." Flash's goons laughed, each one leering at Peter from behind Flash, and the ring leader shoved Peter into his locker.

Peter could feel tears prickling at his eyes, but he wasn't sure why.

"Looks like Parker is gonnna cry! We didn't even have to beat some sense into him, boys, he knows how worthless he is! Lying about his internship, cheating on tests..." Peter could barely hear Flash's taunts, he was starting to feel as though something was wrong. He was no longer standing in the school hallway, he was instead standing in that warehouse.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" Flash's voice was the one Peter heard, but instead of seeing his classmate, Peter looked into the green eyes of the Vulture.

"No, no, no," Peter whimpered. His watch beeped, alerting him to the fact that his vitals were starting to change drastically, and if he didn't change that soon, Mr. Stark would be alerted soon.

Peter's sounds of protest seemed to only egg Flash on, and he and his goons shoved Peter further into the locker, slamming it shut.

Peter was beginning to hyperventilate, and the pain in his ribs was growing worse every second he was in the locker. His eyes were dilating rapidly, trying to adjust to the darkness, but he was seeing nothing but the rubble that had once held him down.

Peter's ears picked up the sound of a familiar voice, he was racking his brain to put a name to it though. It wasn't the Vulture. It wasn't Flash.

The locker sprung open, and Peter fell into waiting arms. For the first time since he started panicking, Peter let himself cry. Huge sobs racked the small teen's body, and whoever was holding him simply let him cry it out. Peter took in the scent of motor oil, grease, and musky cologne.

Tony, Peter thought. He wasn't there in the warehouse, why is he here?

"Peter?" Tony was holding the teen by the shoulders, pulling away enough to look him in the eyes. Peter's eyes focused on Tony's, and the vision of the warehouse started to fade away.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Hey, Peter," Tony smiled. "Can you tell me 3 things you see?"

"Uhm... you. The tiles on the floor. My backpack."

"Good, now 2 things you can hear," Tony encouraged the boy in front of him.

"I can hear your heartbeat and the front doors shutting."

"Nice, okay. Only one more. Tell me 1 thing you can touch."

"Your shirt," Peter mumbled, bunching the fabric of his mentors tee shirt in his shaking hands. He no longer felt so panicked, but he was still unstable. Tony engulfed him in a hug again.

The two sat in the hall for a moment, Tony waiting for Peter to feel a little more stable. Once the teen felt better, he pulled away from the hug.

"Peter, what happened?"

Peter shrugged, locking his eyes on his shoes.

"Peter, please... talk to me," Tony plead softly.

"I didn't tell you everything about the homecoming dance..." Peter started. Once the words began flowing, the teen couldn't stop them, and they just kept coming. He spilled his guts, about the Vulture, the dance, his date's dad, Flash, everything.

"Peter," Tony said when the teen was out of breath and words. "You are my kid, I am always gonna be there to help you out. I fell down on that job during Homecoming. I'll never fall down on it again, though, that's a promise."

"I'm sorry," Peter sniffled. "I'm supposed to be strong like you, but I just-"

Tony cut him off. "I can't think of a single superhero who doesn't have panic attacks and PTSD, Pete. You're the strongest of all of us, you've been dealing with this by yourself for a year!"

Peter chuckled lightly, and Tony beamed at the way his intern began to feel better.

"Time to go home?"

"Yeah," Peter sighed. "Time to go home."