They Don't Know that I Know
“Ugh, Ned, stop!” Peter groans from his place on the ceiling.
Tony looks up at him. “What’s up, kid? Trouble in nerdland?”
“What?” Peter looks down at him. “No, no, everything’s fine. Ned’s just trying to convince my class that I just have a really bad immune system. He’s currently using the excuse explosive diarrhea, which, you know, he means well, but I’d rather have everyone think I’m Spider-Man.”
“Hold up, what?” Tony exclaims. “Does your class suspect anything?”
“Oh, they don’t suspect anything,” Peter drops down to the floor, and sits in a chair next to Tony’s desk. “They know everything. They’ve put it all in a group chat, which is literally called ‘Peter Gossip’, which, first of all, rude, and second of all, they included Ned in it, which was a bad idea, because they also know that he knows, and he keeps coming up with these lame excuses about where I go all the time. And he’s really not good at it.”
“How do you know they made a group chat about you?” Tony asks, baffled. “Did they include you in it?”
“Of course not, they’re not that stupid,” Peter scoffs. “I hacked them. It was surprisingly easy to do, which is a little concerning, because I go to a school full of science nerds and they may have found out by hacking mine and Ned’s chat about Spider-Man.”
“Can you back up, please?” Tony sets down the tools he was holding, and turns to face Peter. “What exactly is going on here?”
“My class knows that I’m Spider-Man,” Peter explains slowly. “And they made a group chat about it. They, however, don’t know that I know that they know, and I would prefer to keep it that way, because if they know that I know that they know, they’ll all want to talk about it, and usually, people just want to talk about the traumatic stuff.”
Tony can’t argue with that. All anyone ever wants to talk to him about is Afghanistan. Or New York. Or Sokovia.
“I really don’t want to talk about all that stuff,” Peter continues. “So, I just hacked their group chat to see what they’re saying about me, because some of it is really funny. For a while they thought I was either a male escort, or a prostitute, and they talked about it a lot. You’d think they’d have something better to do with their time, but I guess they don’t, because there’s at least one person on there sending memes and jokes and shit about it 24/7.”
“Where did they get the idea that you’re a prostitute?” Tony asks, once again baffled. “You’re, like, the most innocent kid I know.”
“That is… not true,” Peter says, looking uncomfortable for a second, before he continues. “And I guess they thought that May and I got really desperate or something, and that I was trying to help her pay for stuff.”
“Why would they know if you and May got really desperate?” Tony asks. “Not that I’d ever let that happen, by the way,” he adds, pointing threateningly at Peter.
“I mean, they all know I’m at Midtown on a scholarship,” Peter shrugs. “And I guess that was the first place their minds went? Keep in mind this is a class full of teenagers.”
“Okay,” Tony breathes, turning back to his work. “Remind me to never talk to teenagers.”
“I mean, you already failed at that one, but go off, I guess.”
-{}-{}-{}-
“Have you seen Peter?” MJ demands, corning Ned at his locker. “I haven’t seen him all day, and I swear if he’s not at practice today, I’m going to kill him.”
“Oh, he’s home, uh, sick,” Ned lies feebly.
“What happened this time?” MJ sighs. “Did he get shot again?”
“Shot?” Ned squeaks. “No! No way, why would you think that? He’s just, uh, got a really bad stomach flu. I mean, he’s been… throwing up, and, uh, coughing, and…”
“Give it up, Ned,” MJ rolls her eyes. “I guess I’ll just check the news to see what happened. Let him know I’ll bring his English homework by later, okay?”
“I mean, I definitely don’t know what you’re talking about, but okay,” Ned shrugs, trying to act nonchalant and failing spectacularly.
“Ned, please, don’t insult me,” MJ snaps. “Flash and his goonies may only half know what they’re talking about, but Betty and I know what’s going on. And, in case you’re wondering, we know that he knows that we know. He’s not exactly subtle about hacking things; he just doesn’t want us to ask him about it, which sure, we’ll respect his privacy. He has saved our lives multiple times, so the least we can do is let him think he’s sneaky. You, on the other hand, I’m allowed to talk to about this, so if you could stop insulting Betty and mine’s intelligence, that would be great. Now, this conversation never happened, got it? We can’t let Peter know that we know that he knows that we know. I was never here.”
MJ walks away, leaving Ned standing, open-mouthed, by his locker.
“What the fuck just happened?” he muttered.
-{}-{}-{}-
“Dude, I think MJ and Betty know you’re Spider-Man. Maybe the rest of the class, too, but I’m pretty sure those two know for sure,” Ned informs Peter.
Peter, who’s working on his web fluid, looks up at Ned. “Did she talk to you about it?”
“Um, sort of?” Ned shrugs. “She said something about knowing that you know that you know that they know… something like that. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but there was a lot of talk about who knows what. And respecting privacy.”
“Well…” Peter hesitates. “At least they don’t know that I know.”
“I’m pretty sure they do,” Ned says uncertainly. “She said something about you not being subtle while you’re hacking things, and letting you think you’re sneaky.”
“Shit,” Peter turns back to his web fluid, completely unconcerned. “Well, at least they don’t know that I know that they know that I know that they know. Which means they probably won’t talk to me about it, which is good. Now, this conversation never happened, okay? Right now, they don’t know that I know that they know that I know that they know, but if you say anything about this conversation, they will know that I know that they know that I know that they know, and we can’t let them know, okay? Okay. I’ll be right back, I left my carbon in my room…”
“I am so confused right now,” Ned sighs dramatically.
-{}-{}-{}-
“I texted MJ,” Ned announces, as soon as Peter enters his room.
“Good for you?” Peter says questioningly. “When did you even get her number?”
“Oh, I didn’t,” Ned informs him. “I guess I should say, you texted MJ. You told her you’re Spider-Man and asked her on a date. You’re supposed to pick her up in half an hour, to take her swinging around New York, and then you’re going to dinner. Mr. Stark already put the money on your card. You should hurry.”
“Ned, what the hell?” Peter gives him a slightly confused, more-than-slightly infuriated look. “How’d you even do that?”
“I hacked your phone,” Ned shrugs. “You were both being really confusing and I was sick of it, and you’ve both been beating around the bush about liking each other for a really long time, which I was also sick of. So I took matters into my own hands. You really should hurry, though, you’re gonna be late. I’ll tell my mom that you got sick and had to go home.”
“Ned, stop telling people I’m sick, think of a different excuse,” Peter says, still staring at him bemusedly. “And… see you later, I guess?”
He sprints out of the room.
“Tell me everything after!” Ned shouts after him, before sitting on his bed, opening his phone, and grinning. “They all think they’re smarter than me,” he laughs, typing something on his phone.
He tosses his phone onto the bed, stands up, and leaves the room. His message to the group chat Team Meter gets instant replies;
GuyintheChair: Guess what, guys! I got Peter and MJ together!
TheFlash: Finally. They were getting really annoying during Decathlon.
BettyBrush: MJ just texted me about it; seems like it’s going well!