Have Abs
Gym class was supposed to be low-stakes. That’s what Peter told himself every week. No pressure. Just jog a little, pretend he still had the lung capacity of a regular teenager, and pray no one asked him to play dodgeball.
"You're running like someone whose kneecaps are falling off," MJ called as Peter shuffled back into the gym after a few laps outside.
"Thanks for the support," he wheezed, dramatically winded.
It was all an act, of course. He could’ve lapped the track twenty times in under five minutes, backwards, with a vending machine strapped to his back. But he had a reputation to maintain: Peter Parker, mildly nerdy, asthmatic-adjacent, totally normal human.
He plopped down against the wall just as the “cool group” gathered near the bleachers. Liz was there, along with Flash (who was currently flexing at his own reflection in a storage mirror), Betty, and a few others Peter didn’t know by name but definitely recognized from the school's Instagram page.
"Okay," Betty said, "real talk—who do we think is the hottest guy at Midtown?"
"Please," Flash scoffed. "Obviously, it’s me."
"Not if your personality counts," Liz deadpanned.
Betty giggled. "No, seriously. C’mon, Liz, what’s your pick?"
Liz looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged casually. "Honestly? I think Peter Parker's the cutest guy in school."
Flash almost choked on his own ego. "Parker? That walking chemistry set?"
Just as she said it, the gym doors opened with a dramatic clunk, and in walked Peter, sweaty from his "totally exhausting jog." He headed over to the benches to grab his water bottle.
"Speak of the devil-boy," MJ muttered with a smirk.
Then it happened.
Peter, feeling the sweat tickling his forehead, grabbed the hem of his shirt and wiped his face—lifting it just high enough to flash a perfectly sculpted set of abs to the entire gym.
Time. Froze.
Someone dropped a water bottle. Betty made an actual squeak. Flash blinked like he’d seen a ghost with a better core routine than him.
Peter, blissfully unaware, flopped onto the bleachers next to MJ. "Ugh. I’m dying. Do we really need to run outside? What happened to Presidential Fitness being optional?"
MJ didn’t say anything. She was too busy watching half the gym try to subtly steal glances at Peter’s midsection.
"Did I miss something?" he asked, looking around.
"Nope," MJ said, sipping her coffee. "You just casually detonated the school’s social structure. Carry on."
Peter blinked. "What?"
Liz, from across the gym, looked like she was questioning every decision she’d made since sophomore year.
Later that day, in the girl’s locker room:
“I didn’t know he was, like… built,” Betty whispered.
Liz nodded slowly. “He wore three layers and tripped over a hurdle last month. He tripped on purpose. That little liar.”
Meanwhile, in Peter’s texts:
Ned: dude
Ned: i heard you flashed your abs and broke flash thompson’s brain
Peter: what
Peter: no i wiped sweat off my face
Ned: with your entire shirt
Peter: oh
Peter: huh
Peter: anyway wanna study for chem or
Ned: YOU HAVE ABS??