Peter set his elbow on the table and rested his cheek against his fist as he doodled aimlessly along the border of his worksheet, mind elsewhere as Ms. Warren continued droning on through the physics lecture. They’d been going over the same material for the past two weeks, just the smallest of additions to the lessons being made every few days so that it could technically be seen as them ‘advancing.’ It didn’t feel like it. He’d repeatedly checked the school’s physics learning syllabus, and each time he was disappointed to see that they were somehow on track with what they were supposed to be doing. Fantastic.
He glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes left.
Happy would be waiting for him after school, and Peter would work at SI for a few hours before he’d change into the suit to patrol for the day. Pretty standard stuff.
He prepared himself to continue doing his best - or close enough - at pretending to be paying attention, but the sound of a ringtone cut clean through Ms. Warren’s monologue mid-word.
It took Peter a moment to realize it was his phone, and he froze as everyone turned to stare at him.
He ducked his head down, whispering harshly at his desk, where his phone was kept, “Karen, my phone is on mute, right?”
‘Yes, Peter, ’ Karen replied assuringly, ‘your phone is set to mute for all non-emergency contacts.’
“Well shit,” Peter muttered, slowly looking up and sending a nervous, crooked smile at Ms. Warren, who raised an unamused brow.
“Go ahead and put it on speaker, Mr. Parker,” she said.
“I-”
“It’s that or detention,” she interrupted, and he winced. He couldn’t have another detention without it going on his school record, which wasn’t an option if he wanted to have the best prospects for MIT.
He slid his phone out from the desk cubby as he mumbled for Karen to put in on speaker and accept.
“Um-”
He was interrupted again, this time by the person on the other end of the line, and his eyes widened in horror as they began to speak.
“Peter! I’m glad you picked up. I’ve some matters to discuss pertinent to the advisory meeting I have in -” there was a brief pause, where the man was likely checking his watch “- about two hours,” he finished.
“Mr -” Peter glanced around at his very way too interested classmates and teacher, a few of whom looked like they found the voice to be familiar but just couldn’t quite place it. A drop of sweat trickled down his back. “- sir,” he started again, “now may not be the best time…”
The man chuckled. “Pete, I told you just Matthew’s fine, and I honestly don’t know if Mr. Sir is better than your usual 'Mr. President' or worse,” the speaker - President Ellis - joked.
A very good chunk of Peter’s soul withered and died a fiery death as his classmates gasped and burst into chatter with their unified realization, and, for the most part, disbelief.
Peter abruptly stood up from his seat, covering the mic with his hand and focusing his wide eyed gaze at his teacher. “I’ve gotta-” he pointed a thumb at the door, hoping his teacher would just accept the pleading look he sent her.
She did not. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, her eyebrows pinching together. “Mr. Parker,” she started, tone disapproving. Peter groaned internally. “I have tolerated your frankly juvenile behavior with how you’ve insisted you have an internship at Stark Industries, but this is taking it too far,” she reprimanded. “Hiring someone to falsify the president in front of your peers? That is beyond unacceptable.”
Peter’s lips flattened into a tight lipped smile, and he raised the phone back up to his ear, belatedly realizing he hadn’t pressed it on mute. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll call you back shortly,” he apologized.
“No.”
Peter’s finger halted over the ‘end call’ button, but it wasn’t Ms. Warren who had said the words, it had been Mr. Ellis. Peter hesitantly raised the phone back to his ear, eyeing his fuming teacher and doing his best to ignore his snickering classmates and the faces of MJ and Ned.
“Pete,” the man said, tone authoritative. “Your teacher and I are gonna have a little chat.”
Peter spluttered. “Mr. President! - “ Flash scoffed loudly, and the laughter picked up.
“This is a matter of personal offense Peter, both to you and to me, and I am sure you’d prefer that I have this talk with her over the phone.”
Peter swallowed, grimacing, as he imagined the alternatives, the two most prominent being men in black coming in to personally escort his teacher off the premises for a ‘private discussion’ or god help him, Sir Ellis coming here himself. “Yep,” he agreed, voice reedy. He walked, stilted, up to the front desk, handing the phone to his teacher with a faint, ‘for you,’ and staying positioned awkwardly in front of her as she eyed him and took the device from his hand.
“Who am I speaking to,” Ms. Warren questioned condescendingly, and Peter cringed.
Of course, with the phone still being on speaker, they could all hear Mr. Ellis’s response, tone changed from friendly but insistent to dismissive and cold. “Matthew Ellis,” he said shortly.
Ms. Warren stiffened slightly, but only for a moment, forcing her shoulders loose and giving a sniff. “Yes, yes, so we’ve heard - you sound like our beloved president. Wonderful. What I would like to know is who is disrupting my class’s learning environment to heed to the whims of a child in an attempt to falsely impress his classmates.”
Peter’s jaw stiffened while the rest of his features went blank.
Flash laughed derisively, jabbing, “Yeah, c’mon, tell us who Penis Parker’s only male figure in his life is!”
Ms. Warren barely spared Flash a glance, continuing her monologue. “Now, if that is all, I advise you against attempting such a thing ag-”
Karen barreled over her words, noting - with her tone sounding absolutely dripping in cold, delighted fury - that ‘Sir Ellis would like to convert to dimensional speak.’
Peter hesitated, then sighed. “If he’s sure,” he relented.
There was a short pause, and then Ms. Warren choked on an inhale as she took a step back from where she’d placed Peter’s phone on her desk, a large, holographic image of the president - Matthew Ellis - projecting out of the device in a multitude of blue lines and curves.
The rest of the class wasn’t any better, shocked outcries and screeching chairs forming a cacophony in the room, and, when Peter glanced back, Flash was red in the face, Ned was vibrating out of his seat, and MJ was nose deep in her sketchbook, eyes occasionally coming up to flit across the room at the numerous expressions of crisis she now had available to peruse.
The projection turned its back to Ms. Warren so that it faced Peter, and, in doing so, the rest of the class.
“Peter,” Mr. Ellis greeted, eyes flickering across his classmates. “Peter’s class,” he said next, then clearly less than pleased.
“Mr. President-” Ellis rolled his eyes - rolled his eyes - and Peter flushed, but continued, “I’m sorry about all… this,” he finished lamely.
Ms. Warren’s mouth was gaping open and closed like a fish as Ellis replied with casual dismissal of, “Entirely my fault,” and, “I had thought your school had been made aware of your… position.”
Peter’s nerves spiked, and he quickly said, “As an intern. Yes, yep. Um. I - um - I thought they knew too.”
His eyebrows raised slightly, but Sir Ellis took the que. “Yes, of your internship,” he emphasized, and Peter withheld a snort.
“Dude,” Peter deadpanned.
Ms. Warren gasped. “Peter!” she reprimanded, and he turned his confused gaze upon her. “President Ellis-”
“Only my acquaintances are permitted to that name,” Mr. Ellis cut in flatly, and Ms. Warren stuttered for a moment before he took pity on her, saying, “you can call me Mr. Sir.”
Peter pursed his lips tightly and tried to stop his shoulders from shaking as she stared at the projection, mouth agape, before she managed to jerk her head away and snap her jaw shut. “Mr. Sir-” she tried again, but Peter snickered, and she glared at him.
Peter saw Mr. Ellis’s lips twitch before his expression shifted to something more serious and he spoke again. “Seeing as Peter is a close associate of mine, it would be advisable that your records are updated so his position is properly documented.”
Ms. Warren made a small keening noise and nodded quickly, and Peter internally groaned as Flash inevitably spoke up.
“There’s no way you're the president and know Penis Parker,” the teen insisted, face twisted up in a scowl.
Mr. Ellis’s cold eyes turned to the boy, looking him up and down once - and obviously dismissing what he saw - before shifting slightly to the side, narrowing. After a moment, he looked back. “Eugene Thompson, son of city council member Harrison Thompson?”
Flash looked mildly concerned at the casual outing of his background. “...Yes? It’s… Flash,” he corrected, now somewhat hesitant.
Mr. Ellis’s eyebrows raised slightly but his gaze remained unimpressed, and he said a quick, “ironic,” as he turned his attention to Peter. Flash stared open mouthed and blank at the wall. “So, Pete. Now that that’s all cleared up, do you have a moment to discuss?”
Peter nodded quickly, spinning around to go gather his materials from his desk and pack them back in his bag. It was last period, and class would likely end before the call.
Ned leaned over and jostled his shoulder slightly, eyes sparkling with excitement, and Peter grinned back, slinging his bag over his shoulder and bumping a fist against Ned’s arm.
“Mr. President,” he called, and the man looked back over to him from where he’d been staring down Peter’s ostensibly cowering professor. “This is my friend, Ned,” he introduced, and Ned made an aborted squeal.
Mr. Ellis smiled, giving a small nod. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ned. Peter has told me a lot about you.”
Ned’s face went slack, and Peter stared expectantly for a moment, frowned, leaned in slightly. His eyebrows shot up upon realizing his friend had literally stopped breathing. “Ned,” he called, a mixture of amused and concerned, patting the boy’s shoulder, and Ned gave a full body jolt, gasping and pushing his chair back with a loud screech as he stumbled to his feet.
“It’s an honor to meet you Mr. President Ellis Sir!” Ned declared a bit louder than necessary, looking proud at not having stuttered at all as he gave his best attempt at a salute.
Mr. Ellis’s grin widened, eyes crinkling in the corners. “I can see why you two get along,” he said, sending a knowing look to Peter and giving a quick scan of the classroom, eyes landing on MJ. “And you must be Peter’s other friend, MJ,” Mr. Ellis contended, and Peter’s face flushed firetruck red.
MJ raised an eyebrow at Peter, her lips twitching into a quick smirk - a blink and you miss it thing - before she set her gaze on the president. “It’s Michelle,” she corrected, and several gasps rang out across the room, which had previously been filled with an awed, tense sort of silence.
Mr. Ellis only smiled back, acceding, “Michelle.”
Peter took a quick step forward, giving a short little wave to the man. “I’m all set,” he said, sweeping a fidgety hand through his already ruffled hair.
Mr. Ellis nodded, and Peter moved to shut the projection off, but the man swiftly turned to face Ms. Warren once more, to the woman’s obvious distress, with her shoulders stiff and beads of sweat dotting her temples and brow. “And see to it that Mr. Parker's calls are kept private?” Ellis suggested, the projection disappearing before she even had a chance to reply.
Peter grabbed his phone as he shrugged a ‘what can you do’ shrug. He nodded at a stricken Ms. Warren, gave a quick smile to his friends, and strolled out the classroom without a backwards glance. The room exploded with noise, and Peter didn’t know whether he wanted to give a whoop or cry.
He settled on putting emotions aside as a later thing and instead clicked on Mr. Ellis’s contact.
The man picked up on the first ring.
“Mr. President,” Peter greeted.
“Peter,” Mr. Ellis replied, sounding fond and exasperated.
The teen huffed out a laugh. “So, that went well.”
Ellis hummed. “Did Tony know about this?” he questioned.
Peter shook his head. “Nah. I was telling the truth back there - I thought the teachers had been told about the whole internship thing.”
“Yes, the internship,” Ellis acknowledged dryly. “And I was referring to your classmates as well,” he pointed out, not unkindly.
Peter shrugged to himself, focusing on the first part. “It’s not like we could just trust that the entire staff would be able to keep things on the DL; Tony and I agreed an internship was a good in between.” he explained.
“DL…? No, no I get it Pete. They’re in for a real treat when it comes out, though.”
Peter’s grin widened. “You think so?”
“Oh, I know so,” Ellis replied, tone conspiring and anticipatory.
Peter pushed open the door to the school’s entrance, taking a deep breath of fresh air as he stepped forward and raised an amused eyebrow. “Which identity do you think the public’ll hear about first?” he asked.
Ellis contemplated for a moment before he replied. “I’d say your position at Stark Industries,” he said decisively.
“Oh? Why?”
Ellis scoffed. “The way Tony brags about you whenever he visits? I can’t see him waiting much longer to announce to the world that you're his heir, if only so he can tell everyone about all you’ve achieved already.”
Peter was bright red again, and he buried his face in his free hand and groaned as he took a seat on the stairs out front from the school. “He doesn’t,” he pleaded.
“He does,” Ellis refuted gleefully. “I’ve heard about how you created ‘droney’ at least half a dozen times, Peter, I swear.”
“No way,” Peter denied vehemently, now folding his arms over his knees and tucking his face in them, muffling his voice.
Mr. Ellis laughed on the other end of the line, very clearly finding the situation to be highly entertaining. “That’s not even the half of it,” he goaded.
“Can we just - talk about the reason you called in the first place?” Peter tried, sounding just a hair desperate.
Ellis sighed disappointedly, but acquiesced.
-
[ Meanwhile, in the classroom ]
“I told you Peter had an internship!” Ned crowed, beaming from ear to ear and still looking a bit faint.
Ms. Warren had taken a seat at her desk, pale and shaky as she slowly typed something out on her computer.
“It was kinda obvious,” MJ deadpanned.
“It very much wasn’t,” Seymour disputed, eyes wide and darting around like the president would just pop up again somewhere when he wasn’t looking.
“No way, no way, no way,” Flash kept muttering, both elbows on his desk and hands fisted tightly in his hair.
Ned scoffed, clearly having gained a good heap of confidence after discovering the president not only knew his name but had personally greeted him. “Yes way,” he contradicted the bully, waving over at Ms. Warren’s desk, where the holograph had been.
Flash’s head shot up and he sent a scathing look at Ned. “There is no fucking way Penis Parker knows the president, lardass,” he hissed, lips twisted in a snarl.
MJ rolled her eyes. “I guess the whole ‘see it to believe it’ thing can’t even do it for you, huh, Eugene.”
“Shut it, you ugly fucking b-”
The room’s door slammed open, cutting Flash off and making half the class nearly jump out of their seats in fright.
In walked five of the most intimidating looking men the group had seen, all built like brick shit houses, standing nearly the height of the door itself, and wearing matching black suits and shades.
Ms. Warren startled out of her seat, taking a couple of clumsy steps backwards and raising her hands halfway up in the air. One of the men stared down his nose at her, while another turned to address the more than a little cowed students.
“It has come to our attention that the people in this room have been made aware of sensitive information pertaining to national security. As such, there are certain non disclosure agreements that have been prepared to combat any possible leaks of said information. You will all need to sign these forms, and, if you choose not to do so, other, more aggressive means will be taken. If you sign these forms and break any of the stipulations listed within them, you can and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. This includes, but is not limited to, telling anyone about anything that you have seen or heard in the last hour; writing about, leaving a message about, or posting about anything that you have seen or heard in the last hour; attempting to seek legal counsel to void the agreements you will be signing in order to make an attempt at disclosing information about anything that you have seen or heard in the last hour.”
By then, the class’s inhabitants had all noticed the last man that’d walked in, who was holding a stack of papers that was a good bit taller than a small child. Promising.
The man who’d spoken shifted his gaze to be centered on Ned, who whimpered, and MJ, who returned the gaze undauntedly, in turn. “Edward Leeds and Michelle Jones have been made exempt from the signing process.”
“W-we have?” Ned stuttered.
The man’s face remained expressionless as he gave a sharp nod.
MJ’s posture relaxed minutely, and she returned to her sketches.
The Suit pressed a finger against his ear - where a clear, spiraled, plastic cord looped out from - and, after listening in for a few moments, turned to Flash.
The boy had sunk low in his seat, face stark white, but, with the attention pinned on him, he bolted back upright, spine going rigid.
A sixth man walked in with another stack of papers - this one much shorter but still quite impressive - while the apparent representative of the group spoke again.
“The President has seen fit that there be additional… stipulations produced for a Eugene Thompson.”
If Flash had looked pale before, he looked green around the edges now, and not in a Hulkish kind of way. Abe was nice enough to go grab a bucket.
MJ grinned maliciously, flipping to a crisp, fresh page.