CoFfEe!!!
Peter chugged the coffee, tipping his head back so far that he had to grab onto the table when he began to fall off the bench.
“Pete, how the hell are you functioning right now?”
Ned sat opposite Peter, craning his neck and looking at Peter with bleary eyes.
“Caffeine, my friend,” Peter mumbled, slamming the empty coffee cup on the table with a resounding smack, causing Ned to flinch and Peter to momentarily escape his stupor and rub his eyes; his vision turned bleary as he fought against sleep. Peter looked to the clock that hung on the cafeteria wall. 20 minutes of lunch left. He could do it, just… 600 words to be done by next period. Should be ok if he could get his eyes to stop seeing double so he could type.
“Peter,” Ned all but shouted.
Peter whipped his head up. “Huh?”
“I’ve said your name, like, four times!”
Peter looked sheepish. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
Ned sighed. “Seriously, dude, how much sleep did you get last night? I thought you didn’t start the essay until the beginning of lunch.”
Peter looked down. “I was patrolling.”
“All night?”
“Yes?”
“Oh, dear God.”
“I’ve just got to finish this essay quickly. I’ll sleep tonight.”
Ned raised an eyebrow.
“I promise.”
Ned threw Peter a sympathetic look. “Well, you have had two weeks to do it, and you left it literally to the period before, so…”
“Well, it’s not like I had any time with Cap asking me to come round to the compound for days at a time, to ‘train’, if that’s what he would like to call it. Was more like ‘Let’s see how well Peter can block a punch from Captain America.’ Spoiler Alert: Peter Parker cannot block a punch well from Captain freaking America,” Peter snapped, but the words lost any vigour they may have had as they tumbled out of his mouth that stubbornly decided not to form the correct shapes.
Ned turned to Peter, before glancing at something over Peter’s shoulder. Ned’s face immediately lit up in a smile, and he lifted his hand good-naturedly.
“You spelt dissociated wrong,” a voice said behind Peter.
Peter jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder. He whipped his head around.
“Hey, MJ,” Ned greeted.
“Yo.”
“How’d I spell it?” Peter asked.
“Honestly, I don’t think I could pronounce it. Third line. Good job, Loser,” MJ said coolly.
Peter turned back to his assessment.
Dissoactitd. He’d written Dissoactitd. If MJ had found that in the five seconds she had to scan his writing, how many other mistakes had he made? Peter thumped his head onto his keyboard in defeat. He would just close his eyes for a sec…
“PETER!”
Peter flailed. “Huh?”
MJ was glaring at Peter.
“I’m awake, I’m awake,” he mumbled.
Peter’s phone rang obnoxiously. He ignored the stares people were giving him as he fumbled for it
within his bag.
“Shit,” Peter said when he saw the contact name.
“Hey D-Tony.”
“Hey, kid,” Tony said. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything urgent-” Peter snorted at that- “but I talked with your Aunt as she said that it was alright for you to come to the Tower this afternoon. You up for it?”
“Of course, Tony! Is there a mission that you need me for, or-”
“None of that,” Tony interrupted, “But, I have some improvements for your suit that I want to go
through with, with you.”
“Ok! I’ll see you then!”
“Back at you, kid.”
Peter hung up. Harry slid onto one of the cafeteria benches.
“Hey, Pete,” he greeted.
“It’s nice to see you too, Harry,” MJ said, rolling her eyes.
Harry glanced apologetically at MJ. “So,” Harry continued. “Are you going to try out for the rugby
team tomorrow?”
Peter waved a hand up and down his body. “Me, the scrawny nerd, play rugby against people like Flash?” Peter asked sceptically.
“Hey, to be fair, I’m a scrawny nerd, too,” Harry said.
“Don’t we know it,” MJ and Peter said simultaneously.
“So… are you trying out for the team?” Ned asked, confusion plastered over his face.
“Yeah, my dad thought it would be good. Maybe I’d finally get some muscle on my noodle arms,” Harry said, waving his ‘noodle arms’ limply.
Peter snorted. Then he remembered his essay.
“Kill me now.”
“That sounds really bad without context,” Harry noted. “Are you ok, Pete?”
Peter simply groaned into his keyboard.
“Peter didn’t get any sleep last night and now he has to finish his essay in… seventeen minutes,” MJ stated monotonely, only looking up from her book to glance at her watch.
Harry whistled.
“That’s harsh. What’s it on?”
“Nuclear stuff,” Peter replied.
“I thought you were good at that.”
“I am, but my brain isn’t working too well right now,” was what Peter wanted to say, but it came out
more like “My brain isn’t goodly working.” Dammit. Stupid brain.
Peter had an idea. A complex, smart, inventive idea.
“I’m sorry brain, I take it back, I love you!” Peter said as he turned to Harry.
“Again, no context,” Harry said.
“Help meeeee,” he ordered Harry. A very smart and inventive plan. Innovative? Innovationative? (Stupid brain.)
Harry stared at Peter.
“What?”
“Help me! I’ll dictate, you do your fast typy thing, because I sure can’t type at the moment.”
Harry sighed and took the laptop from Peter.
Harry began reading what Peter had written, with a slightly bewildered expression.
“This is terrible,” he half-whispered.
“Hurry up!” Peter, Ned and MJ all shouted.
Peter and Harry ended up staying ten minutes after the lunch bell had rung to finish Peter’s essay (and that was why Harry was Peter’s best friend).