Peter Parker Field Trips And More

Peter Parker's Field Trip (Of course it's to Stark Industries) 3/6

The thing about flying is that you eventually have to land.

And the thing about Peter Parker Bad Luck is that every landing is a crash landing.

And the thing about crash landing is that crash landing hurts. In a metaphorical sense, sure, but especially when it’s literal. Like, when he trips over his own two feet as he tries to climb in through the window, lands on the computer chair that he forgot to push back in, slides across his bedroom floor, and is dumped out of the chair and into a crumpled heap at Aunt May’s feet.

“Owww…” Peter groans, squinting up at May through his suit. “Oh! What are you - uh, I thought you’d be asleep. I’m not late! I didn’t break curfew. I - what did I…?”

“Okay, guilty conscience. Slow your roll.”

May looks bemused as she leans down to help him up to his feet, eyes a little wide as she takes in the sight of him in his suit. As well as she’d managed to adjust to the fact that Peter was Spider-Man and that he wouldn’t stop doing his superhero stuff no matter how much she asked, begged, or threatened to ground him until the end of time, she still got a funny look in her eye when Peter had it on and he scrambles to push the button on his watch and let the tech disappear back into its place…

Leaving him without pants. How’s that for thinking fast?

“Gah!” Peter’s voice cracks with embarrassment as he scrambles to his dresser. “May, close your eyes! Turn around! Close your eyes and turn around!”

He assumes that she’s complying because he’s too embarrassed to turn around and look to make sure, pulling out a pair of pajama bottoms and jumping into them. He pulls them up so high that it would make Steve Urkle jealous and then turns around, clearing his throat so that his voice doesn’t crack again.

“Okay, I’m decent.”

“Uh-huh.” May turns around and sits back down on his bed, patting the empty space next to her, indicating that he should join her. And he does, hesitantly. “I think that trouble is, actually, the right word for what you are in. Mostly because trouble was the word that your teacher used six separate times in his email to me about your lying in his class. And beneath that was a really condescending paragraph calling my efficiency as a guardian into question along with the contact information for a child psychologist.”

A chill runs through Peter’s body, every hair standing on end and a queasy feeling twisting his guts into a knot. The email! He’d completely forgotten about the email! He was going to ask Mr. Stark if there was anyway that Friday could hack Aunt May’s computer and delete it before she could see it… but then, pizza took priority.

“I…”

Peter swallows hard and bows his head, his throat suddenly too tight for words. His distress must read loud and clear on his face, too, because Aunt May wraps her arm around his shoulders and pulls him close.

“Oh, honey…” She sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me that this was going on? I would have come to your school if I’d known. You know, vouched for it. Maybe dropped a few F-bombs at that teacher of yours with the condescending typing voice... but I thought everything was fine? We filled out all that paperwork, and they’ve been letting you leave early… Peter, they’ve been letting you leave early, right? You haven’t been lying about that?”