Summary:

Recently following the battle with Toomes, Peter has an unexpected onslaught of sensory overload. May, who's still getting used to her nephew being Spider-Man, has no idea what's going on or how to help. It doesn't help that Peter also has to deal with Flash's rude comments. Luckily, he has Tony there to support him.

In this one shot, we get some well rounded everything! Supportive Mom May, protective Irondad Tony, best friends Ned and MJ, and Flash redemption!

Notes:

Hey everyone! Welcome back to another one shot! This was specially requested by nathvods on Instagram and Twitter :) And she also drew AMAZING fanart for this that she posted on Instgram! Please go send her as well as her art some love and support! I absolutely adore both her and her art to death❤💙

Nath's prompt: peter having sensory overload in front of may for the first time right after she found out he was Spider-Man (and he has to explain to her what's going on bc i love me some drama); flash finding out too somehow; ned creating and being the president of the Spider-Man fan club at school

Have fun and stay safe❤💛💚💙💜

Oh May Oh My

Peter rolls over in his bed, pulling the blankets up to his shoulders and burying his head in the pillow in hopes that it'll swallow him whole. He would give almost anything to sleep in, especially considering it's a Monday, but he knows he promised May they'd walk to school together. They made a deal that they would hang out more often, considering his alter ego activities. It was just last week that she found out about him being Spider-Man. To her credit, she didn't freak out nearly as bad as Peter thought she would. She had a lot of conditions and a long conversation with Tony, but besides that she seems relatively okay with the whole situation.

Loud bangs outside Peter's door pull him from his half-asleep thoughts, only making him bury his face in the pillow even more. Why can't May just wait five seconds for him to wake up before banging on his door?

"Okay I'm getting up! You don't have to hit the door!" he yells in response, slightly flinching at the power of his own voice. Having sensitive ears in the morning isn't uncommon for him, but it sure does suck. The way his eardrum twitches at the sounds and inner ear vibrates is about the most annoying thing he can think of post-spider bite. Then there's a loud creak that he does his best to block out by folding the pillow over his exposed ear.

"Peter?" May's voice is still booming, regardless of the shielding pillow. "I didn't hit the door." It's hard to miss the concern in her voice when Peter can practically feel the soundwaves vibrate through his ears.

"Then what was the loud banging?" Peter questions in a strained voice. He turns his head enough for one eye to peak out and see May standing in the doorway. One hand is on her hip while the other still grasps the knob, but her eyebrows are drawn together in concern underneath her round glasses.

"There wasn't any banging…" She trails off, trying to decipher what Peter means. As soon as she takes a step towards him, the thunderous noise sounds again. Peter can't help the flinch, but quickly realizes that the seemingly loud bangs had been May walking. Who knew shoes on a hardwood floor could sound so deafening? Shit, this better not be sensory overload.

"Sorry, must've just been the, uh, people upstairs. Super hearing, y'know," he awkwardly deflects. Sure, he's taking advantage of the fact that May doesn't understand his super senses, but the last thing they need is him freaking out. He can handle it.

"Do you need anything?" May checks sympathetically. She just hopes that Peter wasn't silently suffering like this since the infamous spider bite.

"No, I'm okay. Just not awake yet. Thanks, though." Peter does his best to sound normal. The bed sheets are already starting to rest uncomfortably atop his legs. Not quite painful, but the rubbing is annoying enough.

"Just be careful. We're not in a hurry, okay? Call me if you need anything." Hesitantly, May leaves the room to give him privacy, against her better judgement. Peter nods in affirmation, the movement causing his eyes to strain in order to keep the room in focus. He has to keep himself from cringing as the door clicks shut with a metallic tink. This is great. Just fantastic.

He sits up with a low groan and lets his feet rest on the floor, hating the way his muscles ache. For some reason, he always gets body aches before a sensory overload. He isn't entirely sure why, and he isn't sure he wants to know, but he figures it's something to the effect of his muscles being hypersensitive to movement. In other words: moving hurts. It isn't quite as bad as the invading smell of diesel and pollution seeping through his closed window. Great, so now he can plan on a headache at the very least.

Everything else is child's play compared to the way his phone vibrates on the nightstand. The phone rapidly buzzes against the wooden surface, successfully sounding like a hammer slamming over and over. The vibrations cause the nightstand to shake the floorboards beneath him. It barely moves off the ground a millimeter, but it's enough for him to immediately pull his feet back up so that the vibrations can't reach him. He blearily looks at his far-too-bright phone screen, his eyes involuntarily watering. By the time he finally reads the texter contact name, there are black and blue dots wherever he looks. With a deep breath, he shakily reaches a hand out to turn down the brightness before replying. Every time his thumbs touch the screen, it feels like a jolt of electricity shooting up his arms.

Mr. Stark

Tony: Hey kid, just reminding you that we have lab day today to repair your suit from your impromptu piloting lesson last week

Tony: Not that I'm gonna be your personal alarm from now on

Tony: And no more crashing my planes. That was a one time thing

Peter: of corse not mr. stark woudnt dream of it

Peter: ill be thre

Tony: Sounds good. And you might want to invest in proofreading your texts

Peter wants to come up with a witty response, or a response at all, but his brain just won't cooperate with him. It feels like his head is in a fog that's too thick to think through.

Tony: Just messing with you, kid

Tony: Let me know if you need anything

Oops, he must've taken too long if Tony felt the need to reassure him with multiple texts in a row. With trembling hands, Peter shoots back a quick "thanks" before letting the phone drop onto his lap.

That's mistake #1.

The phone feels like a brick plummeting to his lap after being thrown from the top of the Empire State Building. He's surprised he didn't hear bones crack from the sheer force. Out of pure instinct, he swipes the phone off his lap, sending it flying across the room.

That's mistake #2.

The phone collides with the wall opposite of him and imbeds itself in there with a resounding thump, shattering the screen and cracking the surrounding plaster. He gasps, his hands shooting to cover his increasingly sensitive ears, and shoots up off the bed.

And that's mistake #3.

His Spidey Sense erupts over his shoulders before his head bangs harshly against the overhang of the top bunk bed, sending an explosion of pure pain and agony throughout his head. He has to bite his cheeks to keep from screaming and ripping his hair out in the progress. Instead, he holds his head in his hands and breathes deeply through his nose to remain calm. Headache has evolved into migraine.

"Everything okay in there?" May calls, unintentionally making Peter's head throb even more. No no no, it's happening too fast. It isn't supposed to get this bad this fast. His deep breaths quickly turn labored as his body tries to adjust to the sudden onslaught of panicked.

"Yeah!" he calls back, but even he hears his voice crack. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Breathe through the pain. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You're fine, Peter. You're fine. He tries giving himself a pep talk, but he can't tell if it helps. Suddenly, the wooden floor is too cold on the soles of his feet. He can smell the nauseating aromas of burnt bacon and sulfuric eggs that cause his nose to burn and his stomach to churn. The pleasant light streaming through the windows become like daggers piercing his eyes, so he slams them shut. It doesn't help. His body is assaulted by goosebumps from head to toe, but none of it is excruciating until his hearing expands beyond the apartment complex.

He can feel the reverberation from the cars driving on the street seven stories below him. He can hear uncountable dogs barking within just a few blocks of him, but they're drowned out by the plane turbines thundering 30,000 feet above him. Then, ear-splitting knocks make contact with his door, causing him to flinch back. He wants to sink to the floor to give his burning muscles a break, but it's already too cold on his feet.

"Peter? You almost ready?" May sounds like she's screaming. "I'm all dressed and I'm wearing the new earmuffs we found. It's supposed to be a windy day so dress warm!" Oh god, please be quiet. Please please please. Stop. Just stop. Please stop, Peter pleads in his head. He wouldn't dare to use his voice and add onto all the sensory input.

"Working on it," he grits out, but it isn't loud enough. The door open once more in an ear-splitting creak that causes him to stumble back to try to escape the sounds. His nails dig into the skin surrounding his ears in a desperate attempt to either block the sounds or rip his ears off.

Everything starts to melt together. He can't tell the difference between sounds, can't distinguish one smell from the next, can't recognize the difference between a gentle touch and a stabbing pain. There are muffled words, but he can't tell if they're being said in front of him or a few blocks down the street.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he whispers stubbornly. He isn't even sure if he was asked a question, but he says it just in case he was. The only way he knows May is right in front of him is the thudding of her racing heart. He can barely make out his aunt's words, but she keeps saying them anyways.

"Breathe for me, baby. I'm right here. You have to tell me what's going on." Her whispering trembles, but at least she can recognize Peter is sensitive to sound. She has to stay calm, cool, and collected. Her job practically demands her to be calm in stressful situations, but it's different when it's her kid. It's scarier. "Keep breathing, that's it. Good job. I'm so proud of you," she praises and forces her smile to be heard in her voice. The next thing she takes note of is how pale and sweaty Peter is. Pale and diaphoretic. She would touch him to see if his skin is cold, but she isn't sure if that's the best course of action with the current reactions. Regardless, she knows shock when she sees it. In the meantime, she works on getting his breathing down. "Deep breath in, and let it out slow. You're doing great. I love you so much. It's crazy how much I love you."

Peter mentally grasps onto his aunt's voice like a lifeline. If he can focus on her, then he can try to tune out some of the outer chaos. It's something to focus on. His breathing slowly starts to come back down to normal as he listens to May's soft, encouraging words.

"Fantastic job. I need to know if I can touch you, okay? We need to get you warm. Can you do that for me, brave boy?" May tries her best to keep her voice warm and comforting. Hypoperfusion, she notes, early signs of shock. Peter slowly shakes his head. If he can barely handle the sensation of standing on the floor and his own hands over his ears, there's no way he would survive anything else.

"Too loud. Hurts," he manages to gasp out through clenched teeth. If he were to be honest with himself, everything hurts, but his hearing takes the cake.

"I know, sweetheart. Trust me, we'll get through this," May assures, forcing tears to stay back. She can't help but feel empathetic as her kid trembles in pain. However, Peter still takes it like a champ and nods.

"It's, it's senses. They're, they're, dammit." He can't think and speak and breathe at the same time. How is he supposed to explain this while having it? "Too much everything." May instantly puts it together after Peter's pained explanation. Sensory overload, she can treat sensory overload. She just doesn't know how much worse it can be with heightened senses. Still, she starts by softening her voice even more.

"I understand. We're going to fix this, I promise, but you have to be strong for me." She quickly pulls off her fuzzy earmuffs and gently places them over Peter's ears. Peter flinches slightly when he feels the soft material brush against his knuckles, but moves his hands long enough to allow the earmuffs to be placed. They aren't completely comfortable and they don't block out all the sound, but they help. His hands aren't gripping his ears anymore, which takes away the pain, and everything is slightly muffled. It takes some of the stress off of his senses. The strained muscles in his back relax minutely and his body sags in relief. He keeps his eyes closed against the harsh light, but he can breathe a bit easier. "How are you feeling?" May whispers, trying to give him space.

"Tired. Ringing," Peter answers honestly. Without the constant chaos of the outside world, he's more aware of the high pitched ringing in his ears. Thankfully, the floor doesn't feel as icy on his toes. As soon as he realizes this, he slowly lowers himself to sit on the floor. The pressure is bearable, which means he can hopefully handle touch. He scooches towards May, who's still crouching to be at his level, and wraps his arms loosely around her torso. May doesn't hesitate to hold him gently and rock him back and forth.

"How often does this happen?" She's almost afraid to ask him, but she needs to know to be prepared. At first, Peter simply shrugs. He doesn't have the brainpower to speak yet, still coming down from the attack on his senses, and his mind can't formulate any cohesive thoughts. May seems to notice and just continues to cradle him protectively, running a calming hand through his curls. Eventually, Peter has enough words gathered up to speak.

"Sometimes, my senses they, they go haywire. Like, they're dialed to eleven." He tries to remember the way he explained it to Tony, which seemed to relay it well enough. "There's too much, too much input and, uh, I can't focus on anything 'cause it's too loud or bright or y'know…" Feeling thoroughly embarrassed by his stuttering, he trails off and enjoys the feeling of May's soft sweater against his cheek. May closes her eyes and shakes her head slightly.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through this alone," she apologizes, never ceasing her ministrations in his hair. "You can come to me with anything, you hear me? Absolutely anything goes wrong, I want to know about it. No beating around the bush and certainly no more secrets. Deal?" Her proposal sounds particularly reasonable to Peter considering he's currently being surrounded by warmth and support. Usually after his sensory overload ordeals, he has to deal with coming back to reality on his own. All alone. Cold. This is certainly a nice change of pace.

"Deal," Peter breathes, somewhat relieved. May takes her own sigh of relief and kisses the top of his head.

"Anything else I should know about?" she half-jokes. If there's anything else that causes him this kind of struggle, she needs to be aware. Peter chuckles, but genuinely considers her question.

"Spiders don't, um, thermoregulate very well. They kinda suck at it. Guess I got the short end of that stick, too. Winter's the worst." In hindsight, he supposes he shouldn't have divulged that information considering they're going to walk to school together. Once Peter has fully recovered and is able to stand, despite being exhausted, she wraps him in layers of jackets and a puffy coat. She adds a scarf and hat, just to be safe, and lets him keep the earmuffs on. All it does is make Peter feel like Randy from A Christmas Story. Despite that, it does keep him extra warm on the walk to Midtown High.

Once they reach the subway, they sit down next to each other and Peter tiredly rests his head on May's shoulder for the entire commute. Peter's eyes threaten to close multiple times, but he forces them to stay open if only to convince May that he can handle the school day.

"Are you sure you still want to go to school? We can always head back home," May offers for the fourth time as they step off the subway. Peter shakes his head and rolls out his stiff shoulders.

"It isn't that bad anymore." His ears still react to loud noises, but it's nothing overwhelming. "And I already told Mr. Stark I'd work with him in the lab after school." There's no way he's missing out on personal workshop time with Tony Stark. No force could keep him from fulfilling a childhood dream. May sighs fondly and brushes Peter's cheek with the back of her hand.

"He wouldn't think any less of you," she feels the need to point out.

"I know!" Peter quickly defends, his voice cracking. He clears his throat before repeating a bit more calmly, "I know. I'm just really looking forward to it. I don't wanna skip out." With a deep breath, May reluctantly lets him have his way.

"Call if you have any problems," she insists with a stern, protective look. "I don't have to start my shift until eight." Peter nods, adjusting the backpack straps on his shoulders as they approach the school.

"I will," he affirms. "Love you."

"I love you more." With one last reassuring squeeze from May, Peter walks alongside the chain link fence to the front of the school.

After walking through the front doors of Midtown High, Peter beelines for his locker with his head down. For some reason, Ned isn't at their lockers yet, which only adds to how uncooperative the morning has gone. Instead, he just empties the majority of his backpack's contents into his locker and tries to tune out the echoing voices that travel through the halls.

"Morning, nerd." Peter looks up to be met with MJ's impassive stare. They haven't talked much since she was deemed captain of the Decathlon team, but they seem to be getting along better.

"Hey, MJ. What's up?" Peter asks conversationally. He does his best to focus on MJ's voice instead of the squeaky sneakers on the slick floor. His senses aren't as hypersensitive, but the headache that's left behind has a vengeance. The fluorescent lights make his head throb and he's tempted to stick his head in the locker purely for the darkness.

"What's up with you?" MJ questions, narrowing her skeptical eyes. Curse her and her observational skills.

"Why didn't you answer my question?" Peter tries to avert the attention away from him, but MJ is just as persistent as always.

"Why'd you deflect mine?" she fires back without remorse, crossing her arms and shifting her feet.

"Um…" Peter knows he can't say anything that would give away the fact that "Just, uh, woke up with a headache." That was so lame. She's not stupid or oblivious. Before MJ can question him further, he clears his throat and changes the subject. "Do you know where Ned-"

"Peter!" Both Peter and MJ, along with a majority of the other students in the hall, turn towards Ned's yelling. Ned skids to a stop in front of his friends with a wide grin taking over his face and a rolled up poster in his hands. By the time he stops, the rest of the students have lost interest. However, Ned's wide eyes find Peter's. "Dude, you have no idea what I just did!" Peter blinks at Ned and glances to MJ, who's equally confused, before responding.

"What exactly did you do?" he asks cautiously, briefly motioning to MJ with his eyes. He can't let another person find out his secret identity. Ned continues his excited rambling nonetheless, but doesn't give away any top secret information.

"I started the school's first, drumroll please," he holds up the poster and lets it unroll, "Spider-Man Club!" Peter's jaw practically drops out of utter shock. The poster is hand drawn, in what seems to be a rush, of Spider-Man doing with his famous web-slinging hand pose.

"You…oh my god," he breathes, not sure what to say. Should he feel honored? Horrified? Flabbergasted? MJ, on the other hand, snorts in amusement.

"Spider Fan Club, huh?" she inquires with a lazy smile, now leaning against the lockers.

"Exactly!" Ned exclaims, pointing at her. Oh, this should be good, Peter thinks.

"Sign me up," MJ says with a nonchalant shrug. Ned's eyes widen in awe before he practically squeals,

"Sweet! And I'm the president of the club! Isn't that badass!"

"I dunno if 'badass' is the right word," Peter starts hesitantly, but can't help laughing at Ned's lower lip sticking out.

"Come on, let me have this!" his best friend practically pleads. Then, Ned brightens up again. "And you'll never guess who the first person to sign up was." He quickly searches through his backpack for the crumpled paper.

"Flash," MJ states, her tone slightly lowered. At her sudden shift in tone, Peter and Ned both look to her.

"Woah, how'd you know?" Ned asks, genuinely impressed.

"No, Flash," MJ insists with more force just as Flash walks past the group. Peter's stomach just about drops through the floor and a light tingling thrums over his neck. Usually his Spidey Sense doesn't react to Flash, but he chalks it up to the sensory overload.

"Nice earmuffs, Parker!" Flash shouts for all to hear. Peter's cheeks immediately flush with embarrassment and he presses his lips together. Of course he forgot about the earmuffs. "Didn't know you had such a feminine style! Did you borrow them from your imaginary friend Black Widow?" Flash walks backwards as he continues to spout the insults with a carefree smile. Even though he wants to argue, Peter holds his tongue and ignores Flash. Ned, however…

"Says the wannabe Spider-Man," he counters as confidently as he can muster. Peter covers his mouth to hold back a laugh whereas MJ openly snickers. Flash stops in his tracks, mouth slightly ajar.

"What's the matter, Eugene?" Peter prompts with raised eyebrows, obviously amused. "Can't take what you dish out?"

"Don't call me that," Flash is quick to warn. "Better watch yourself. My friends saw you on the subway with-"

"You don't have friends, Flash," MJ interrupts bluntly, never holding her punches. Figuratively, of course. Flash is taken completely off guard and is once again speechless. By this time, a few people have noticed the arguing and a small crowd has formed near them.

"You didn't have friends!" Flash counters, trying to gain back his usual overconfident facade.

"Key word: didn't," MJ doesn't hesitate to correct. Peter glances to her, only to see her glancing to him and Ned.

"You wanna be friends with a geek and a liar? Go ahead," Flash challenges. This immediately catches Peter's attention more so than the other attempts to get a rise out of him. It hits him differently.

"I'm not a liar," Peter defends confidently. Debatable, his mind tells him, but he ignores it. "I haven't lied about the internship. Never have." His attempts only seem to humor Flash more.

"You still expect us to believe that you got an internship with Tony Stark? How gullible do you think I am?" There's no indication that Flash will stop, but Peter doesn't intend on backing down anymore either. He's especially not in the mood today and pushes past the pounding in his head.

"Does it make you feel better?" Peter questions seemingly out of the blue, then elaborates. "Picking on people? Knowing that you've hurt someone's feelings? Does it make you feel better about yourself? Because I can't think of any way you can justify making people feel bad about themselves. Grow up, man." His tone sounds just as exhausted as he feels, but it was worth it. He's done taking the brunt of Flash's insults. Flash stands like a deer caught in headlights. There isn't an explosion of rage that Peter had anticipated, just shock. The bully hadn't expected to be called out so blatantly.

"Mr. Parker and Mr. Thompson." As soon as the voice is heard, the semi-large crowd around them starts to dissipate Togo to their relative classes. This leaves more than enough room for Principal Morita to walk up to them. "My office," he calmly states and gestures for the two teens to follow him. Peter glances back to Ned, who frowns apologetically. He just gives his friends an encouraging smile and does as he's told. At least he doesn't have to sit through English class.

Flash and Peter silently sit in the uncomfortable, plastic chairs outside of Principal Morita's office. They don't speak, which Peter is thankful for. He glances to the clock on the wall that reads 8:47 am. May is almost a full hour into her shift, which means his next emergency contact aka Happy will be picking him up. Peachy.

"You're not wrong." He turns his head to look at Flash, who's looking at his hands.

"What?" Peter asks, more than a bit confused. He hadn't expected Flash to initiate a conversation.

"All the crap you said," Flash elaborates impatiently, "it's not…wrong, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?" Not knowing what to say, Peter waits for him to continue. "It doesn't make me feel better. It actually makes me feel like a jerk." Flash takes a deep breath as some of the weight from his actions seem to lift.

"Then why do you do it?" Peter mumbles, hoping that he doesn't overstep anything to elicit a reaction.

"I'm jealous, alright?," Flash blurts out in frustration, causing Peter to flinch slightly at the volume. "I…I'm jealous. All this cool stuff happens to you and it's like you don't even try. You have an awesome aunt who takes you to school and rides on the subway with you. My parents wouldn't do something like that." He genuinely looks…sad. Peter hasn't ever seen this side of Flash, but he can see now that Flash has kept all the feelings in for a reason. He's hurting. "And you get to work as an intern for Tony Stark? Who else can say something like that? It's insane." Peter starts to put the pieces together.

"You believed me this whole time," he notes, then looks up to meet Flash's eyes, "but you didn't want anyone else to." Flash averts his eyes, but nods.

"Look, I know it's a dick move. It's not that hard to believe with your grades." Flash cares about my grades, Peter questions in his head. Not just that, but Flash is jealous that he has an aunt that cares about him?

"Your parents don't…?" he starts but implies the rest.

"They don't do anything. I barely see them anymore. It sucks." Flash deflates slightly and fiddles with the hem of his polo shirt. It's a lot to for him to admit, and it's a lot for Peter take in. Peter isn't exactly sure how he should reply at first, but he has a gut feeling and acts on it.

"You want to, uh, hang out sometime?" he offers in a moment of courage. Flash whips his head up to stare at Peter in shock. "Y'know, you can always come to our apartment and meet May. She's really great, not the best cook but she's nice and, and she treats my friends like family. Ned and MJ could come too. We could have a movie night or, or something." Peter clears his throat in hopes that it'll dissolve some of the tension. Against all odds, Flash smiles before looking back down to his lap.

"That'd be…kind of cool." He shrugs his shoulders. His smile slowly fades. "I don't deserve it. I treated you that way for years," he reminds. Regardless of this truth, Peter doesn't feel the need to hold a grudge. Sure Flash bullied him, but he had gone through a lot away from school. It doesn't excuse the actions, but Peter understands and can see the effort he's making.

"I thought the forgiveness was implied," Peter says with a smile. Once again, Flash is left speechless. Peter holds out his fist as a peace offering. There's a moment of silence where Flash just stares at the fist, then returns the fist bump with a renewed, grateful smile. Peter is so caught up with the meaningful conversation that he only just notices the sound of echoing footsteps approaching.

"Good morning, Mr. Parker." Both Peter and Flash turn to face the voice, only to realize that Tony is walking towards them. Flash is beyond surprised, but Peter sinks in his chair a bit. He was expecting the passive Happy Hogan. "Care to explain why I'm here?" Tony stops in front of them, tapping his dress shoes. Peter has to actively keep from flinching.

"Hey, Mr. Stark! Actually we worked everything out, so we can just-"

"Ah, thank you for joining us." Principal Morita steps out of his office and shakes a reluctant Tony' hand. Tony looks between the principal and Peter for answers.

"There's really no need," Peter starts, his head already starting to pound again. The switching between silence and overstimulation is frying his senses. "We talked it over and there's no hard feelings. I swear."

"Yeah!" Flash chimes in once he manages to get out of his momentary stupor. Tony's eyes snap to him, a look of skepticism coloring his face. Something isn't sitting right with him.

"We have a no tolerance policy when it comes to bullying, Pe-" Principal Morita is suddenly cut off.

"Bullying?" Tony repeats indignantly. There's a fire his eyes at the news, but Peter is quick to calm him down.

"No no no. No bullying. It was just a misunderstanding, okay? We're good!" Peter does his best to assure, accompanied by Flash's vigorous nodding. Tony looks anything but convinced, but seems to let it go for now.

"Well, if we're all in agreement…" Principal Morita prompts with a confused eyebrow raised.

"We are!" Flash and Peter confirm simultaneously.

"And, uh," Peter glances to Tony, "I think Mr. Stark needs my help with something," he urges with a point look. Tony clears his throat and immediately returns to his confident posture.

"That's right. I'd like to take him early." Tony isn't entirely sure why Peter wants to leave, but he isn't about to tell the kid "no." Principal Morita nods and takes Tony to fill out the early release form.

After a few minutes, Peter and Tony are walking out of the school, Tony carrying the teen's backpack.

"So, what the hell was that all about?" Tony questions once they're in the Audi. Peter rests his head on the dashboard and massages his temples, earning him a briefly concerned look from Tony.

"Senses dialed up to eleven this morning. Headache." There's no need for Peter to pretend with Tony anymore, so he lets his grammar take a hit. Tony nods in understanding and pats Peter encouragingly on the back.

"I've been working on something for that. Thought we'd head to the workshop to work on 'em." This is enough to get Peter to peak up at him. "Noise cancellers. That way you don't have to wear those," Tony offers, gesturing to the earmuffs that are still on Peter's head. Peter quickly pulls them off out of embarrassment, then immediately puts them back on when he can't handle the noise of the engine running.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Thanks, Mr. Stark," he says gratefully. Once Tony pulls out of the parking lot, he changes the topic.

"Who was that kid?" he asks curiously. Peter rolls his neck out and sits back in the seat.

"Uh, Flash," he answers simply. Tony nods before speaking again, trying to remain nonchalant.

"He bothering you?" Peter is quick to shake his head.

"No. Well, yes, but not anymore. Like I said, we talked it out," he explains with a hint of pride in his voice. Tony raises his eyebrows expectantly. "He has family issues which is why he was kind of a jerk. So we talked about it and…I understood and forgave him." It's decently simple when Peter thinks about it. Tony chuckles slightly, which makes Peter look at him in confusion. "What?"

"Nothing," is all Tony says for a moment. After a few beats of silence, he elaborates. "You always manage believe in people when others don't. Even when those people are dipshits." The admission causes Peter to smile sheepishly. "I'm just proud of you," Tony adds, quieter this time. Peter's smile widens to a grin as he fidgets with his hands.

"I appreciate it, Mr. Stark."

Notes:

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