Chapter 1

Peter didn't understand why teachers had to make English so boring.

Grammar, fine. He could understand why learning about the different types of pronouns would be useful to avoid sounding like Cookie Monster all day. And doing thirty worksheets on the differences between clauses and phrases would be stretching the "usefulness" factor, but at least they were used in everyday speech

But reading about Shakespeare and poetry? There was literally no point to reading a 600 word novel if half his classmates (him included) decided to doze off during class, and especially if those said half frantically looked up themes on Sparknotes at three AM in order to pass the next English exam. There must be some better story about contemporary themes out there, but no, Peter was stuck in class, reading The Scarlet Letter, the most relatable content he ever laid his eyes upon.

Which took place during the 1700s. And featured a lady who believed her kid was sent by the devil and had some sort of love scandal with the not-righteous-anymore priest because her husband was old and boring.

It was the type of plot that teenagers in the modern era, knowing the concept of divorce, would definitely relate to. Not.

Peter could could spot Ned doodling something in the corner of his notebook, his face furrowed in concentration. He was probably trying to finish his new Millennium Falcon that looked a bit like a really bumpy rabbit. Even MJ, history nerd extraordinaire, was casually reading a different book on top of the oh-so-wondrous copy of Scarlet Letter, flipping through the pages while teacher droned on about pearls and river symbolism.

But to his dismay, he could feel his eyes flickering shut, a wave of exhaustion passing over him from the sporadic late-night patrols that lasted nearly entire nights. With the combination of the teacher's monotone voice and the warm spring air that signaled the near arrival of summer, he slowly nodded off to a tired doze.

Then something his pocket suddenly vibrated abruptly, snapping him out of his bleariness as he snapped his head back up with a jolt. He could hear a couple of titters around him, as the teacher stopped and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Any comments, Peter?" she asked, her mouth turned downwards into a frown of disapproval. Peter felt himself flush with embarrassment as the buzz in his pocket died down, and he quickly shook his head. The teacher resumed reading, her eyes narrowed in a final, silent warning before scanning the thin book lying in her hands.

MJ was looking at him amusedly, while Ned mouthed, "Tough luck," with a glint of laughter in his eyes. Peter just rolled his eyes at both of them in mock frustration. Of course they would find some sort of humor in his pain.

As he faced back towards of the front of the room resignedly, watching the teacher flip the page meticulously, his phone rang again. At this point, he just ignored the phone, highlighting a random paragraph in the section of the book.

A couple of minutes after the buzz died down, it started to vibrate a third time. Either it was a very desperate caller phoning the wrong phone number, or an emergency from May. He couldn't risk if it was the latter, especially since May never called him during the school day. Something about school being important and all, which he couldn't deny, but still. Adults.

Luckily, it was near the end of the class and he waited impatiently for the bell to sound. But the phone just keep buzzing, on and off, and on again, and his feeling of unease grew, because a normal person would have just left a voicemail already.

Was it May? It was probably May. She might have gotten into an accident and here he was, twiddling his fingers in class.

When the bell finally rang, Peter hurriedly grabbed his books and rushed outside, feeling the smooth surface of plastic shudder underneath his fingertips. Quickly, in front of his locker, he turned on his phone, only to be met by the unknown number flashing on the screen.

He paused and stared at the screen, the numbers innocently looking back at him. If it wasn't May, who could it be?

A slight tingle of apprehension ran up his spine and tickled the back of his neck, as the phone stopped ringing and rang again, for the seventh time. Of course, it could have just been a very persistent person who accidentally got the wrong number, but something was telling him that he should throw the phone into the garbage and never look back.

So naturally, he swiped the green call button and held it up to his ear.

"Hello?"

A woman's voice answered back. "Hello Spiderman, I-"

He immediately threw his phone across the hall, startled, which probably wasn't the smartest decision considering that his phone was already cracked in a million places. A very surprised MJ caught it as she turned the corner. She must have been walking to the history classroom for her next period.

Unfortunately, he would rather have Ned at this moment, because he was pretty sure the MJ still wasn't quite so sure that he was Spiderman yet, and if there was any time that a discussion about spandex and spider webs were needed, it was now. But Ned had coding next, one of the only classes he had that was different from Peter's, so he was nowhere to be seen.

It didn't help that bubble of panic was rising in his chest, closing in on his lungs so he couldn't properly breathe anymore.

Just chill, he mentally scolded himself, trying to shove his growing hysteria down a little hole in the sewers of his mind where it belonged.

That strange lady over the phone knows your identity! A little voice retorted back, throwing its imaginary hands up into the hair and running around in circles. You shouldn't be calm!

"Are you trying to kill me or what?" MJ huffed, as she walked closer to Peter, holding the phone in her hand like some sort of weapon. Her frizzy brown hair was tossed to the side in a messy ponytail, framing her face like an angel that was going to murder him. If it was any other time, Peter would have absentmindedly thought about how pretty she looked when she was mad, with her brown eyes glinting dangerously bright.

But he was too busy worrying about the consequences to the strange lady knowing his secret identity, because this meant that if she knew, anyone could have access to that information. They would know that he went to Midtown School and would hunt down all of his friends and classmates, so everyone he cared about would be under the risk of fire. It would be just like Liz, where it would be all his fault, again, and his suit would be taken away because another person knew his identity and he should have been more careful or something like he was around May-

May was in danger.

May, the person he swore to protect after the night of tears and broken promises, and a lone hand on the shoulder of a body featuring the kind face of Ben. She would be in danger, and it was because of him, like it always was-

He almost didn't realized that he was hyperventilating when MJ put a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes were no longer as intense, but instead softened, like hard taffy melting in the sun, dissolving into sweet stickiness.

"Peter."

Peter crouched down on the ground, suddenly glad that his locker was on the farthest side of the school. There was no one around, since everyone probably rushing to get to their next period class like a normal human. He wrapped his trembling hands around his head and tried to breathe, while MJ worriedly hovered around him. The bell to the next period rang, strident compared to the relative peace in the air moments ago.

"The bell- you, sorry- I," he tried to get out, but MJ quickly shushed him.

"Don't worry about the bell, just breathe first. Calm down."

Peter felt her warm arm gently rest on his shoulders, as he took another shuddering breath in and closed his eyes. After a moment, he spoke again, voice muffled between his legs. "Sorry, bad moment."

"Alright." Thankfully, MJ's voice was soft, and not judgmental, which he was thankful for, as the warmth from her arm disappeared from his shoulders. Feeling the thump of his heart steady slightly, he reached out an arm and pulled himself up against the locker. In front of him, MJ was looking at him with wide eyes, like she didn't know what to make of him after his wonderful breakdown.

Five stars to guilt-driven paranoia, yay.

In all honesty, whether he liked it or not, the feeling of guilt seemed to loom behind him more apparent than ever. It was like Ben all over again, but worse because there was nothing he could do. At least in the past, he could pull himself into some semblance of sanity by helping others.

Now, he could try to help, but he did with the Vulture incident, and that didn't work out so well last time because the world was a complicated place and he was just a spider, spinning a small web in the middle of chaos. He might have helped Mr. Stark, but ruining Liz's life was all his fault that he couldn't have changed, and he wouldn't have. Not even if he was given the option to turn back time and redo the mess that happened.

MJ waited a few more seconds for him to sort out his thoughts, before she coughed awkwardly. When he looked up at her questionably, she was standing up with her arms folded across her chest. Briskly, she asked, "What was that?"

Peter winced at the interrogative tone that her voice took towards of the end of the sentence, and she backed off quickly. It was the first time he'd ever seen her actually back down.

"If you don't want to tell me, that's... fine?" Her voice trailed off at the end, as if she wasn't sure that was how to take a step back. It was such a change from her usual confidence, curt and to the point, and Peter couldn't help snorting softly at the questioning pause she made at the end.

She just raised an eyebrow, and Peter shrugged back, a bit sheepishly. "Overthinking sucks."

"Do I have to murder whoever was calling you?" MJ frowned, staring at the phone in her hand that was still somehow on. Before he could do anything like dive for the incriminating device and chuck it out the window, she tapped the button to put the phone on speaker.

"If you talk to Peter one more time, I will hunt you down and find your house to burn your gnomes down and use the decimated gnome parts to skewer you to a wall," she spoke into the phone, her voice threatening.

"But the gnomes didn't do anyth-" Peter protested, but quickly shut up when she shot him a glare. "Alright, alright gnomes are secretly evil creatures that I have no idea what they did but apparently they did some-"

"Peter." MJ tried to sound frustrated, but the little quirk at the end of her mouth gave her away.

"I like you, kid." It was the woman's voice, tinny from the phone, but her amusement was still apparent. "But I believe there's just a small misunderstanding here. I'm here to talk to Peter about his Stark internship."

Her voice was strangely familiar, and it seemed that MJ thought so too because she frowned a bit before giving the phone over to Peter. "I thought you quit the internship," she muttered.

"I did. But I got it back again a few days ago," Peter mumbled back, turning off the speaker and putting the phone to his ear.

"What's going on with the Stark internship?"

The woman asked, "You remember the wreckage from the Vulture incident?"

Peter involuntarily shivered, remembering pipes and running water slowly dripping down his face. A maze that twisted over his head and trapped him underneath so he couldn't escape and it was so hopeless-

"Yeah," he dully said. "Why?"

The voice was grim when she responded, "It's gone, at the same time a couple of leftover Hydra goons went off the radar."

"And you want me to help." It wasn't a question.

"We're seriously understaffed right now," the woman sighed. "Believe me, I would love to deal with this myself, but backup would be nice."

Which was strange, because Peter knew that there were plenty of trigger-happy recruits in the SI company. At least twenty of them would have given up a thumb and an ear to "kill some baddies," unless…

"Mr. Stark couldn't have sent you."

The woman on the phone didn't respond. Peter sighed, "Wait wait wait, back up a second. Who are you?"

Still no response. Then the woman's voice came back on the phone, still calm, but embroidered with threads of panic. Screams echoed in the background.

"They found it, it's too late." Her voice got fainter, as if she was turning her head to scan the terrain. "At this point, we just need to mitigate the damage. I got Sam to fetch you in a couple of minutes, be on the roof."

The call ended. MJ was leaning in front of him, trying to look inconspicuous, but her interested face gave her curiosity away.

"What was that about?" she asked. Peter just stared at the darkened phone in his hand.

He heard screaming in the background, so even if it was a trap, there was still people getting hurt. And he couldn't just leave people to die, no matter what the circumstance was. If he could stop what was happening, it would be well worth the trouble.

Quickly, he made up his mind. "MJ? Could you tell Mr. Harrington that I've got a family emergency, and I'll bring in a note tomorrow about it?"

Luckily, his Spiderman suit was in his backpack. He was planning on doing some patrolling after school, but he guessed that this would work as well also.

MJ opened her mouth, probably in protest, but one glance at his face, and she must have seen something because she closed her mouth and just nodded mutely. "You owe me one," she sighed and quickly strolled towards the classroom, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

"You're the Falcon," Peter gaped at the intimidating figure on the rooftop, wings spread wide.

"And you're tiny," the man raised an eyebrow, folding his wings into his back casually. "Do you actually go to school here?"

Peter shifted uncomfortably, feeling the brisk air permeate through the thin fabric of the suit. He opted not to answer, but instead asked, "Where are we going?"

"Where you'll be going," the Falcon corrected. "I'm supposed to be backup for something else right now, but Nat ordered me to bring you to her and you probably heard how she is. Won't take no for an answer."

"I was talking to Black Widow? On the phone?" Peter stared at him incredulously. No wonder she sounded so familiar.

"Yeah." Sam peered down at Peter even more carefully, frowning. "Do you even drive yet? You look like you're eleven."

Peter tried not to let the indignation seep into his voice as he protested, "I'm- uh eighteen! I'm super masculine and macho."

His voice cracked when he said "macho," and he nearly died of embarrassment as the Falcon started laughing. He clapped a hand over Peter's shoulder and amusedly said, "Still got some growing up to do, eh? Don't worry, I've heard that Captain America hit puberty really late too."

"Mr. Falcon-"

The man interrupted him, "Call me Sam. Mr. Falcon makes me feel old."

"Mr. Sam-" Peter ignored his groan of frustration, feeling a bit satisfied with himself because, well, revenge is sweet.

"-aren't you a war criminal right now or something?"

Sam stiffened slightly, imperceptible to a normal person's eye, but clear as daylight to Peter's. "Unfortunately." Suddenly, it seemed like all the energy drained out of him, and he sighed tiredly. "There were a lot of misunderstandings. People were being idiots."

He flicked out his wings again, letting them expand to their full size. "But we've been taking care of the bad guys outside of town for these couple of months. Don't worry."

His smile was hinted with bitterness as he looked back, offering a hand to Peter. "You'd think that the past Avengers would actually be trusted with all those years of service, right?"

Peter thought about the times when he would hear about gossip about Spiderman throughout the hallways of his school. He thought about walking to school with still-healing broken ribs caused by a patrol at 3 AM in the morning, and listening into conversations that mocked Spiderman.

"He's a menace," they would snicker and whisper, and Peter would hurry by, head down, and heart aching and filled with the same bitterness he saw in Sam's face. "Spiderman? What a freak. He doesn't do anything."

So Peter took Sam's outstretched hand.

"Why are you so heavy?" Sam groaned, up in the air, as he tried to adjust Peter in his arms. "For all your tininess, you're like a hippopotamus."

"Or maybe you're just getting out of shape," Peter snarked back.

"Or maybe I'll just decide to drop you," Sam retorted back, before groaning again dramatically. "Seriously though, what do you eat?"

"Apples. And walnut date loaves," Peter said honestly, staring at the ground drifting below them, as Sam soared through the air gracefully. No one seemed to look up at the sky anymore, eyes fixated on their phones as they paced the streets to whatever their destination was.

What if Sam accidentally let go? What if he slipped and tumbled through the air helplessly to land in a broken heap on the ground?

He quietly voiced his concerns to Karen, who answered, "At this height, you'll end up with a broken back."

The unspoken message passed through them, brought by rumors and the curt way Mr. Stark mentioned that his best friend's back was messed up. You'll end up like Rhodey.

Mr. Stark was going to murder him when he finds out that he was spending his time hanging out with his ex-besties who turned to vigilantes.

"Don't like heights?" Sam asked after a brief moment of silence. Peter shrugged, or shrugged as much as he could with an arm wrapped around his chest, before muttering, "Not my favorite."

Sam glanced down at him apologetically, before saying, "We just need to make sure that we aren't dropping you too high up. Too much speed isn't going to be good for your bones."

"Acceleration," Peter sheepishly corrected.

Sam leaned towards the left to bank across the air. He asked absentmindedly, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well- um, speed doesn't really affect a person. If it did, then people on planes wouldn't be able to survive, because most planes go up to really big speeds. It's just the acceleration, how fast a person stops or moves that causes stuff to happen," Peter mumbled.

"Please don't sound like Ton-"

"And then Newton's first law of motion with inertia would make it so that the force stopping the object would have to be equally exerted as the force when it was falling down. Then the person would hit the ground at maximum velocity and break his skeleton because the force causing it to accelerate in the negative direction would be really high since velocity is a vector so there's direction and magnitude. Stuff like air resistance won't really matter until the person reaches speeds up to terminal velocity and then it'll be like 200 meters per sec-"

"Shit, you do sound like Stark, Spidey," Sam said, sounding suspiciously entertained. "Do you think anyone knows that you're a mini-Stark yet?

"I'm a what?" Peter gaped at him, words momentarily forgotten.

"A mini-Stark," he impatiently repeated. "How much people know about you being all science-y?"

"Uh, why?" Peter asked nervously, because that gleeful look on Sam's face didn't seem to mean anything good.

Peter could almost hear the grin in Sam's voice when he said, "Because we've got some minds to break if you ever meet the rest of the ex-Avengers."

"... You're weird."

"Thank you," Sam said, sarcastically. "Being called weird by a kid who sounds like he's still going puberty is on the top of my list of worries."

"WOW."

Just to get this straight, this is going to be a weird 5-1 story. Everything's going to flow as if all the chapters could just be from one story, but I'm still going to follow the 5-1 format. It's going to be fun, I've got everything planned out, and hopefully winter vacation would give me enough time to finish this, or at least, get a huge chunk of this story done.

To those who are curious, I actually got bored and calculated the velocity that Peter would have hit the ground when falling off the Washington Monument in Homecoming. 105.4 m/s, which is actually half as much as what terminal velocity of a human would fall. Btw, terminal velocity just means the maximum speed a person can fall, because air resistance equals the force of gravity, and yea... science stuff!

Merry Christmas to you all, and hope you all have a wonderful holiday break!