Too Tired
Unlike what people at school may think, Peter Parker has been extremely busy lately. He has been staying up all hours of the night to rescue people in this never-sleeping city, but that makes it so that he gets next to no rest, himself. Hence, the overworked teenager, although an unusual one with enhanced abilities, keeps falling asleep in class just as so many others do.
It has not proven a large issue to Peter. He is always able to catch up just fine with the work. However, it has been bugging some of his teachers and creates yet another thing for his lifelong best bully—and unwitting secret admirer—to harass him for. Either way, here he is, head down on his crossed arms at his desk in science class.
"Hey, Penis Parker!" Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Flash Thompson looms in the doorway, a menacing grin on his face. "I heard that if you fall asleep in class again, you're getting kicked off the decathlon team."
MJ walks in right behind him and levelly says, "Nobody ever said that," as she goes to her seat, expression bored.
Flash scowls at her for a moment, but wisely decides not to push it. When Mr. Harrington walks in, too, at a brisk pace, Flash shoots Peter a glare before sitting down, himself.
Mr. Harrington sets some grossly large books on his desk and smiles at his students. "Today's going to be a fun one!" he says cheerily, earning groans. That is rarely a good thing to hear a teacher say, after all.
"Awww, dude, we're dead," Peter hears Ned moan despairingly from behind him. Not receiving a response, Ned's face scrunches. "Peter?"
Turning slowly around toward his friend, Peter meets his friend's darker eyes. Ned leans away with an expression of disgusted concern. His head swivels back and forth for a second, scanning his surroundings more conspicuously than not as he wets his lips. He leans back forward, eyes intent, whispering, "Dude, you look more tired than Jabba the Hutt is fat."
Peter blinks at Ned slowly over massive eye bags that look like they are about to pop out from a pale face, his brow furrowed grumpily. "Wow, thanks, Ned. I really appreciate that," he whispers, a bit snarky from lack of sleep.
"Peter, Ned, no talking in class," Mr. Harrington calls out from the front, and the two look forward again.
Well, Ned does. Peter turns and lays his head back down. That's at least, like, fifty percent of what the teacher wanted...mostly. Peter huffs lightly to himself. Who even cares at this point. He's too tired. Last night was even worse than usual. For some reason, so many people decided that that was the perfect time to rob stores, burgle houses, and mug little old ladies. The little old ladies did get a few good whacks in with their purses, though. Peter wishes none of those successful hits were at him, but hey, you win some, you lose some.
Listening to the droning voice of Mr. Harrington talk about some chemical Peter will just have to ask Ned about later, Peter falls asleep. Unfortunately, this sleep is far from a restful one. Not long after lights went out for Peter, Ned sees his friend start to fidget. Considering how terrible his face looks, though, Ned lets him be for now.
Meanwhile, dreamland Peter is dressed up as a bloodied and beaten Spider-Man watching helplessly as May Parker is beaten to death by the Vulture. That does not bear any importance to Mr. Roger Harrington, however, when he sees one of his students asleep in his class for the fifth time this week. Nonetheless in what he considers such an interesting lecture!
He frowns, eyes pinned on Peter. Other students begin turning to their slumbering classmate. Eyes wide, Ned flails his arms before frantically tapping Peter on the shoulder. He whispers his friend's name, trying to wake him up, but it is all for naught.
On the other side of the classroom, MJ leans back in her chair and crosses her arms, ready for the show. Lo and behold, Mr. Harrington does the expected. "Mr. Parker," he calls out. The student does not budge. Everyone in the room looks between the two of them with wide eyes. Mr. Harrington's brow scrunches downward in irritation. "Mr. Parker," he calls more loudly and angrily.
Still no response. Abe Brown nervously sinks down in his chair across the room while Betty Brant, a few seats in front of him, leans forward in anticipation. Mr. Harrington's veins are clearly visible on his forehead, now, and he stalks over to Peter's desk, looking down his nose at the sleeping boy.
That's when everything comes to a head.
"Parker!"
Something snaps, Mr. Harrington falls into the desk behind him, knocking it and the student seated there over, a few students scream, there's a loud yell, Ned and his chair fall completely backwards, and people rocket to their feet—even MJ's eyes widen fractionally.
Peter's heart beats wildly in his chest, hammering between his rapidly pumping lungs and against his ribs. He's here. The Vulture. Where is he? Where's May? His mind screams at him loudly, still in a panic and stuck in his nightmare. He shakes his head with a grimace, trying to clear his unfocused vision.
When things finally come into focus, however, things distinctly lack sense to Peter's sleep-muddled and exhaustion-ridden brain. Is he having a dream? He squints reddened eyes at the sight before him and peers at his teacher, who, for whatever reason, is staring at him in shock and terror from the ceiling along with the rest of Peter's classmates.
"Hey, uh..." Peter mutters, "why are you guys all on the ceiling? This is a reaaaaaally weird lucid dream. That's kinda cool, though. Ned'll laugh at this one," he chuckles to himself. He wipes his hand over his face, rubbing some gunk out of his eyes as he sits back on his bum. "I definitely need more sleep if this is what my dreams have become. Wait!" he gasps, eyes shooting open at everyone. "May!" Peter begins scrambling, standing upside-down with bent knees on the ceiling, hands flailing as he stares at them. "Oh no. Why am I asleep now? Did Toomes get me? Am I knocked out? Oh Gosh no no no. Wake up, wake up," he starts whispering frantically, pinching himself wherever he can see skin.
The classroom is frozen where everyone fell or stood, staring at their terrified peer-slash-student. The spell is broken by Ned popping up and sprinting over under where Peter is now walking in circles, mumbling in a frenzy. Ned hops from foot to foot as he looks up and then around him again and again.
"Uh! Uh! Uh! Um, Peter?" Ned splutters, finally pinning his gaze on Peter.
Peter looks down (up?) at him and groans, rubbing at his tired face again. "Not now, dream Ned. Kinda having a crisis," he says, going right back to pacing, pinching, and mumbling.
"Peter, you're awake!" Ned says more forcefully. He pauses hesitantly, looking around at his classmates and teacher again.
Peter looks at him dumbly for a moment before frowning and pointing at him. "Do you think I'm stupid? How would you all be on the ceiling, then?"
Ned shakes his hands around nervously. "Peter," he hissed quietly, knowing his super-hearing-having friend would pick it up. "You're the one on the ceiling."
Peter's eyes narrow again for a moment, the bags under his eyes somehow looking even darker, before they widen bulbously. "I'm on the..." he echoes. After a long moment of blinking and finally noticing how odd his clothing feels, his head snaps toward some of the other students in the room before settling, panicked, on his science teacher. "Oh Gosh. I'm on the ceiling."
Freaking out, Peter drops to the ground, landing gracelessly on a desk and toppling off of it in his disarranged state. He scrambles to stand up, hopping over onto one foot before finally balancing onto them both and standing up straight. Looking around, he blinks owlishly.
"Uhhhhhh..." He wracks his brain. "It's not what you think?" Really had to say it as a question, huh, Parker?
Then everyone starts screaming.
"Aw man," Peter whines.