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Language:
English
Collections:
Spider-Man Public Identity Reveal, Peters_many_unfortunate_fieldtrips, Peter_gets_Phone_calls, escapism (to forget that the world is a burning hellscape)
Stats:
Published:
2021-01-19
Completed:
2021-03-18
Words:
32,616
Chapters:
22/22
Comments:
505
Kudos:
6,756
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1,045
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128,139

peter-man - oh, fuck - i mean spider-man.

Summary:

identity reveal one-shots. none will have permanent angst, but some will be angstier than others. in general they should be fluffy and cracky. identity reveals are my favorite :))
ft: irondad, peter parker being a Dumbass, the acadec team (bc i love them), and mj & peter & ned friendship.
disclaimer: i do not own marvel, nor the universe or their characters that i use here.
enjoy!!

Notes:

Chapter 1: school shooting at midtown.

Notes:

tw: gun violence, school shooting. (no one dies though)

Chapter Text

“Parker!” Coach Wilson shouted as Peter lazily jogged around the track. “I’ve seen you go faster than that, put in the work, pick up the pace.”

Peter shot a look to Ned and jogged slightly faster.

Suddenly, out of absolutely nowhere, Peter’s spidey-sense BLARED and he stopped in his tracks abruptly. “Ned,” Peter whispered. “Ned -”

But Peter didn’t have time to finish his sentiment, because the alarm immediately began blaring. “Active shooter, this is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill.”

Peter’s heart caught in his throat as he ran under the bleachers, following the rest of his class.

Betty was calling her parents, Charles was saying some sort of prayer, Cindy was crying softly, Flash looked utterly petrified, Sally was full-on sobbing, Abe was frantically texting his sister, even MJ looked nervous.

“Everyone needs to remain as quiet as they possibly can,” Coach Wilson whispered, and several students stuffed their fists in their mouths to muffle their sobs.

“Peter,” Ned hissed with wide eyes.

Peter felt utterly useless. He didn’t have his suit. What could he do?

“Peter, you need to call Mr. Stark!” Ned whispered.

Three bullets sounded.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Each one pierced his ears and he felt a tear run down his cheek. None of the other students reacted to it, however, so the shooters must be far away.

“Okay, okay, okay, it’s going to be okay,” Peter whispered under his breath, mainly to himself. He pulled out his phone, scrolled through the contacts, and his finger hovered over his mentor’s phone number. Ned gave him a meaningful look, so he pressed it.

Ring...

Ring...

Ring...

“Pete? Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

Peter muffled a cry. “Mr. - Mr. Stark,” he managed to get out, biting down on his tongue to keep from bursting out in tears. “Please,” he whispered.

“What’s going on, kid? Talk to me, please, FRI, give me a suit. ETA ten minutes, Pete, what’s going on?”

“I don’t have my suit,” Peter whispered. “I don’t have my suit.”

“Peter, bambino, you’re going to be okay, I promise, please tell me what’s happening.”

“They have guns,” Peter said.

“Fuck. Peter -”

Five bullets, this time.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.

From the muffled screams and sobs, Peter figured the shooter was getting closer.

“Pete? Pete? Are you okay? Please, Pete, please, you need to be okay, just tell me you’re alive, bambino, please.”

Peter whimpered in response.

“Okay, Pete, that’s all I needed. I have six more minutes. FRI, all power to thrusters, maximum speed. I’m coming, Peter, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Crack.

“Pete?”

“’M okay.”

Crack. Crack.

“Three minutes, Pete.”

Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.

Everyone was sobbing at this point, including Coach Wilson. The bullets sounded closer than ever. They sounded as though they were right behind the door to the gym...

“Pete? Pete? Pete? Please, Pete, please. Answer me if you can hear me, Pete, please.”

Peter let out a small sob.

“Thank God, bambino, fifty more seconds.”

“I- I hear the – the thrust-”

But Peter couldn’t finish his sentence because the door was battered open.

“Shit,” Peter whispered.

“Peter. Peter, don’t do something stupid.”

Peter hung up as an armed man came into his view. He knew that they would be visible, he could only hope that the bleachers would protect them from any bullets.

His spidey-sense flared. The man cocked the gun. A bullet rang out, headed straight for MJ’s forehead.

Everything happened in slow-motion. The bullet, Iron Man crashing through the window, Peter diving in front of MJ.

And then – pain. Pain, pain, pain, and Peter had been shot before, but that was with the suit, and he was more thankful for the suit than ever before because goddammit, being shot fucking HURT. And he knew he was screaming, and he knew that he had leapt inhumanly fast, and he knew that Mr. Stark was saying something, and he knew that Iron Man was flying him out the window, but all he understood was PAIN PAIN PAIN.

And then – black.

---

Betty opened her eyes. A ray of sun bounced of the gun on the floor, and beside the gun was an unconscious man. And she let herself sob.

And sob, and sob, and sob, until she could hardly breathe, but it didn’t matter, because she could have DIED. Everyone was sobbing, and it was okay, they were okay, but they almost weren’t, and that was fucking scary.

“Pete, please, goddammit, Pete -”

Betty sniffed and gulped in a breath of fresh air, her eyes searching to find the voice – and why did it sound so familiar? Ah. Because it was the voice of Anthony Edward Stark, holding Peter Parker in his hands. The Peter Parker who had leapt in front of a bullet for MJ and now had a hole in his side.

Wonderful.

But Betty certainly couldn’t comprehend any of this information right now, so she just let herself... breathe.

---

Peter woke up to incessant beeping and he groaned softly.

“Peter, thank God,” Tony said.

Peter looked up at his mentor through squinted eyes and saw his blotchy red face.

“S’rry, Mis’sr St’rk, she was g’ng t’ die.”

“Go back to sleep, bambino.”

Peter was already asleep.

---

A few hours later, Peter awoke again, feeling nice and refreshed. He stretched his arms, breathed in, squeezed his eyes shut as if to forget all of the memories, and stood up from the bed.

“Kid -”

“Did anyone die?” Peter asked in a small voice, his throat closing up.

“No.”

Peter’s eyes widened and he looked up. “But - but I heard at least ten shots!”

“Seven of them must have missed. Two teachers were injured and another student, besides you, but that’s it. No one died.”

Peter smiled softly even though his heart still felt heavy. “Okay. That’s good.”

---

The next day, he returned to school. School had been cancelled the day after the shooting, so he hadn’t missed anything. When MJ caught his glance, she bit her lip.

“Thanks, loser,” she said. But Peter saw the way she clasped her fingers together tightly, and the way her voice shook at the end of the sentence, and immediately saw through her facade of nonchalance.

“It’s - it was no problem, MJ.”

Before MJ could respond, Betty came barreling into the moment, and threw herself at Peter.

“Oh my GOD, Peter, we thought you were dead, holy shit, holy shit, you weren’t responding to any of us and I was SO SCARED, what the fuck?”

Peter awkwardly patted her on the back. “Uh, sorry, I wasn’t really on my phone.”

Betty pulled away suspiciously and wiped at her eyes. “Yeah. Because you were shot. Speaking of, why the hell are you in school? And how the hell are you walking?”

Peter froze. He was so stupid. Everyone had been in shock during the shooting, they probably hadn’t noticed the superhuman way that Peter had saved MJ. But the superhuman way that he was healing was very suspicious.

“It - It was only a graze?”

Betty sniffed and shook her head at him. “At least Flash won’t bother you about your internship anymore.”

“That’s a very small at least,” Peter said, taking a deep breath.

The shooting was all over the news. Midtown was a famously respected school, after all. Everyone was shocked. Unfortunately, that also meant that reporters wanted everything they could get.

So, when Peter exited to go to the Tower, he was greeted by flashing cameras and reporters shoving microphones in his face.

“Peter Parker, our sources say that you called Mr. Stark because you are his personal intern. What do you have to say to this claim?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s true.”

“Mr. Parker, Eddie from the New York Times here, reports say that you took a bullet for a classmate, how are you standing here today?”

“Because I’m Spider-Man?” Peter froze. He had not meant to say that. “Shit!” He whispered underneath his breath as the reporters got about a hundred times worse.

But the familiar sound of the thrusters brought Peter out of his internal panic.

“Please step away from the kid,” Tony said, flipping his faceplate up.

“Is it true that Peter Parker is Spider-Man?”

Tony gave Peter a Look(tm), and Peter groaned and put his head in his hands. “I didn’t mean to, Mr. Stark, it just came out! They asked why I was here today if I was shot! What was I supposed to say?”

Stepping out of the suit, Tony brought Peter into a hug. He knew this was a terrible thing to do in front of reporters, and Pepper would give him an earful later, but feeling Peter’s tension melt away under his fingers was worth it.

“It’s okay, bambino,” Tony said softly, and then he turned to the growing crowd. “Yes. Peter Parker is Spider-Man.”