Something was off. Very off.

Peter stared at the pile of snacks and Avengers merchandise scattered across the floor outside the bedroom door, brow slowly creasing.

Ever since the Mysterio situation had been dealt with, every visit to the Avengers Compound turned up the same scene: a massive haul of snacks waiting outside the room, sometimes mixed in with things like life-sized body pillows of Captain America and Hawkeye, one-to-one scale figures, or exclusive signed photos.

Who was leaving all of this was easy enough to figure out. Why they were leaving it was another matter entirely.

Were they trying to comfort Peter?

Honestly, being deceived by Mysterio had hurt. But that hurt had only lasted so long before friends dragged Peter off to goof around, and the mountain of schoolwork piled on top of that left almost no time to mourn a lost friendship.

These days, thinking about Mysterio just brought disgust. The sadness was gone.

Peter let out a sigh, bent down to gather up the whole pile, and headed inside.

"Do you think Peter can forgive us?"

In a corner Peter had completely failed to notice, four figures were huddled together, whispering.

Clint's voice came out uncertain. The other three went stiff at once.

"I — I don't know..." Yang Luoluo stammered.

After days of agonizing over it, the four had finally settled on a plan: send the apology gifts first, along with a full explanation of everything that had happened, then lurk in the corner and watch Peter's face.

No obvious sign of anger? Step out and apologize in person. Obvious anger? Well — cough — give it a couple of days for things to cool down, then apologize.

All four sighed at the same time.

"So what did everyone end up sending?" Tony asked, aiming for casual and landing somewhere close to it.

The day Tony had come back from dropping Mysterio off at the police station, Tony had discovered, with no small amount of hurt feelings, that the other three had already sorted out their apology gifts without so much as a word. Feeling thoroughly left out, Tony had made an immediate and extremely petty decision: whatever they sent, Tony's gift was going to be a thousand, no, ten thousand times better.

Tony still had no idea what they were giving. Didn't matter. Tony's would win.

"I got a Star Wars droid Lego set." Clint spread both hands, the look of financial pain on Clint's face entirely genuine. That set had cost nearly half a month's salary. "I asked my son and Peter's chubby little friend for recommendations."

But what could Clint do? They were the ones in the wrong here.

Steve looked uneasy, clearly not feeling great about the choice.

"I... drew a few portraits of Spider-Man. Every suit Peter's ever worn. I have J.A.R.V.I.S. to thank for tracking down all the reference images."

"You are very welcome, Mr. Rogers." J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice drifted down from the ceiling, volume noticeably lowered, as if cooperating with the general atmosphere of conspiratorial secrecy. "I believe your work could be exhibited at any art show."

That seemed to do the trick. Steve relaxed visibly, smiled, and thanked J.A.R.V.I.S. with what was clearly genuine feeling.

Tony did not look happy about this. "J.A.R.V.I.S., I don't recall you ever complimenting my gift."

J.A.R.V.I.S. had long since made peace with the creator's competitive streak. The calm voice returned, smoothly delivering exactly what was needed.

"Sir, that is naturally because every creation of yours is the most flawless and singular work in existence. My compliments would add nothing to their perfection."

Tony was mollified.

"Does that sound like J.A.R.V.I.S. sneaking in a compliment about J.A.R.V.I.S. to you?" Clint leaned over and murmured into Yang Luoluo's ear.

J.A.R.V.I.S. was also Tony's creation. Praising Tony's work as perfect was, by extension, praising J.A.R.V.I.S. Clint genuinely hadn't seen it coming, that J.A.R.V.I.S. would pick up Tony's narcissism too.

Yang Luoluo nodded vigorously.

"What about you, Tony?" Steve's blue eyes shifted over, the compliment coming easy with long practice. "What did you get Peter? I'm sure it puts mine to shame."

Tony lifted the chin and had J.A.R.V.I.S. throw up a hologram.

A brand-new Spider-Man suit hung in the air, red and black and gleaming.

"I'm calling it 17B, same series as Peter's Item 17A suit. The wrist web-shooters have a few dozen new web modes added in, and the faceplate now has a built-in toxic gas filtration system..."

Once Tony hit familiar territory, the words came without stopping. Appearance, then function, then comfort, and if thirst hadn't eventually cut the monologue short, Tony probably could have kept going indefinitely.

---

Inside the room.

The moment Peter stepped through the door, everything tumbled out of both arms and crashed to the floor. Peter didn't even glance at it.

All attention had locked onto the suit.

It hung there, red and black, and absolutely magnificent.

Peter's brain took two full seconds to catch up. Then the eyes lit up, and before the thought had finished forming, this is for me, Peter lunged forward with a cheer, running both hands carefully over every panel, and promptly, helplessly, put it on.

"Hi, Peter."

Karen's familiar voice. Before Peter could get a word out, Karen kept going.

"Peter, the following is a message Boss asked me to pass along."

Peter blinked. A second later, Tony's voice came through, slightly awkward, but unmistakably Tony.

"Peter, cough, okay. I think I owe you an apology. We knew everything about Mysterio. Why Mysterio came to you, what Mysterio wanted..."

"But I decided on my own that you needed to learn a lesson. And I told everyone to keep quiet about it..."

Tony's voice kept going. Peter's eyes were already burning.

Saying there wasn't any resentment would be a lie. Finding out now that everyone had known exactly who Mysterio was, the whole time, and had let it happen anyway, something sharp flared up in Peter's chest.

But then.

Peter pressed both lips together. That whole period, someone had been saying it every single day. Don't trust strangers. Stay alert. Sometimes Yang Luoluo. Sometimes Steve. Even Kate and Harry and the others had said something.

At the time, Peter had already filed Mysterio under people I know. The warnings had registered, there had been a little more wariness, but only a little.

The anger quietly lost its footing.

Everyone had been right. If Peter had been more careful around strangers from the start, had walked away from Mysterio sooner, had dug a little deeper, maybe none of it would have gone the way it did.

Peter took the suit off carefully, set it aside, and turned to look at the table.

A brand-new Lego box. Several sheets of drawing paper. A black notebook beside them.

Peter went for the Lego first. The low mood from a moment ago evaporated on the spot.

That was the exact set Peter had been wanting forever. The monthly Avengers pay all went straight to Aunt May, which meant Lego came out of pocket money, and at that rate, saving up for this one would've taken the better part of a year.

Peter pulled the small note out from under the box. Clint's apology, exactly as expected.

"Hehehe." Peter hugged the box to the chest, already mentally planning to bring everyone breakfast every morning as payback, then looked over at the drawings.

!

The Lego went straight onto the bed.

Peter lifted the sheets like they were made of something precious. Every drawing was Spider-Man. From the very beginning, a tiny spider-baby in a homemade hoodie and swimming goggles, all the way to the latest, standing tall on a battlefield in the full Item 17A suit.

And in the bottom-right corner of every single one: Captain America's personal signature.

Peter held the drawings and felt genuinely on the verge of passing out.

It took a while to get the excitement back under control. Peter set the drawings down and looked at the notebook. Anticipation quietly climbed to its absolute ceiling.

Heart thudding, Peter turned to the first page.

BOOM!

Peter went red from forehead to heels, all at once.

---

Outside the room.

"Actually, Luoluo, what did you end up sending Peter? Looked like a notebook?"

Tony had just drained an entire bottle of water. All three pairs of eyes swung toward Yang Luoluo.

She nodded, looking thoroughly sheepish.

"Okay, so, I've been pretty close with MJ lately. And you all know Peter likes MJ. So I kind of... casually asked MJ about what MJ likes. Wrote it all up. And gave it to Peter."

Tony, Steve, Clint: "..."

Brilliant. Absolute genius. Nobody even comes close.

➤ Next: Flash Bullies Peter Again

Chapter 146 - Flash Bullies Peter Again

"Phew—"

Yang Luoluo closed the book, pushed it aside, and slumped forward onto the desk with a long exhale.

Mid-November already. In another month she'd probably have to head back to school for finals. Honestly, if Loki hadn't said something, Yang Luoluo, who had been spending every single day running around with Wanda Maximoff and Pietro Maximoff, might not have remembered that at all.

Lucky she'd thought to pack her one textbook for the semester before coming to America with the Avengers. Between that and having Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, two walking supercomputers, right there in the facility to help, she'd managed to keep up even without setting foot in a classroom.

Still. Compared to studying, Yang Luoluo would take a mission any day.

"Sigh..."

Then again, once finals were done, she'd have zero coursework left until graduation. The moment that thought landed, her mood lifted considerably.

She grabbed her phone, the one she'd handed over to Loki specifically to stop herself from falling down internet rabbit holes, and scrolled through it. To her surprise, Harry and the others had created a group chat half an hour ago and buried her in messages.

Had something happened again?

She thought about every unbelievable incident that had unfolded around those wizards. First year: killed a professor possessed by Lord Voldemort. Second year: slew a Basilisk. Third year: knocked out Severus Snape, who had actually been trying to protect them. And fourth year, after Lord Voldemort's resurrection, that was a whole other list.

Yang Luoluo glanced over at Loki. Loki just shook his head.

"I haven't read your messages. No idea what they sent."

Yang Luoluo had no choice but to tap the chat open.

Please, whatever deity was paying attention, let it not be another disaster those wizards had cooked up.

[Save Peter Squad (5)]

[golden snitch: I genuinely cannot believe it. Peter has been getting bullied by this Flash Thompson person for this long?!]

[Hermione Granger: Why is Peter's personality so soft? He just takes it lying down. If it were Harry, there would have been several fights with Flash by now.]

[Ron Weasley: Just you wait. One day I'm throwing a sack over that guy's head! Then I'm going to George and Fred for a dozen Dungbombs to dump inside!]

[Draco Malfoy: Truly disgraceful. School bullying.]

[Ron Weasley:...You're literally the last person here who should be saying that.]

[Draco Malfoy: Shut up, Weasley!]

[golden snitch: If you don't change your display name, Draco, I swear you'll end up in a sack right next to Flash, twins' Dungbombs included.]

[Draco Malfoy:...]

[Draco Malfoy:...Fine. Happy now?]

[...]

[Yang Luoluo:...?]

The moment the group saw Yang Luoluo pop up, everyone who had been furiously venting about Flash Thompson started talking over each other at once.

It took some effort to piece the flood of messages together, but Yang Luoluo eventually got the gist.

...

With Mysterio out of the picture and the smears that had been slapped onto Spider-Man's name washed clean by that livestream, Peter Parker felt like a new person.

Still, happy as Peter was, he was an ordinary high schooler, and ordinary high schoolers had to go to class. So Peter headed to school with Harry and the other three.

Then, right at the classroom door, that all-too-familiar face was waiting for him. Smug grin and everything.

Peter:...

A string of completely unbroadcastable profanities ran through his head.

Flash had one hand propped against the doorframe, smugly blocking the way for Peter and the group, while the other hand shoved a phone right into Peter's face. Peter nearly got poked in the eye and almost, on pure reflex, gave Flash a shoulder throw.

He blinked, steadied himself, and actually looked at the screen. Tony Stark's livestream. That day.

"You coward. You keep saying you're Spider-Man's biggest fan, but the moment someone smears Spider-Man, you won't even step up to defend him."

Flash pulled the phone back with a look of open contempt and shoved Peter, clearly having gotten entirely the wrong idea about why Peter hadn't bothered defending his own alter ego.

A look of helplessness crossed Peter's face. Flash's shove was barely a tickle, but Peter played along anyway, pretending to wince, and drifted back a few steps to lean against the wall.

There was really no way to explain this. Was Peter supposed to just come out and say that defending himself against his own haters felt a little weird?

Come on. Peter didn't need more than a second to figure out that Flash learning he was Spider-Man would be infinitely worse than getting shoved around.

Whatever. The hits didn't hurt. Bullying it was.

But Flash had barely started to press his advantage when Harry and the others detonated.

Ron Weasley launched forward and shoved Flash back, hard. "Didn't I tell you to stop bullying Peter?!"

The shove sent Flash stumbling several steps, and the only reason Flash didn't hit the floor was grabbing the door handle at the last second. Flash's temper spiked immediately. Flash was already opening his mouth to fire back, then clocked the tall, broad-shouldered Ron standing right in front of him, radiating aggression.

Behind Ron: glasses-wearing dark-haired kid. Brunette girl. Haughty blond. All glaring.

Flash:...

Flash spinelessly swallowed the comeback and gave a meek shake of the head in response to Ron's challenge.

Not a lie, technically. In Flash's memory, this red-haired kid genuinely had never said those words.

Ron choked for a second, then planted both hands on his hips and barreled straight past logic. "Well, you've heard it now!"

"You dare bully Peter again, and I'll beat you every single time."

As if that threat needed reinforcing, Ron held up a fist the size of a sandbag. Quidditch in the backyard with Harry, Draco Malfoy, and the twins had given Ron a solid tan lately, and combined with the naturally tall, broad frame, the menace radiating off Ron right now was not small.

Flash Thompson, school bully and connoisseur of making other people's lives miserable, experienced for the first time, no, the second time, exactly what it felt like to be weak and helpless and very small.

Flash nodded in humiliation and bolted.

Just as the group was thinking maybe Flash had actually learned something this time, Flash looked back over one shoulder and called out to Peter, "You just wait, Parker!", and ran even faster.

Ron's temper flared. Taking in Peter still standing there with that completely vacant expression, Ron said, with great feeling:

"Peter, you're Spider-Man. How are you still letting him push you around?! Can't you just push back?!"

In response to Ron's thoroughly exasperated face, Peter scratched his head and said nothing. He glanced left, glanced right, confirmed no one was watching, then quietly clicked open his locker, rummaged around, and pulled out a white ceramic mug.

The next second, the mug crumbled to powder in Peter's grip, cascading down in a soft rush as the palm opened.

Ron:...

The other three:...

"See? It's not that I enjoy taking it." Silence had settled over the group by then, and Peter finally spoke up. "It's just that if I actually hit back and lose control of my strength for even a second—"

Peter pointed innocently at the powder on the floor. The others understood the unspoken half of that sentence immediately.

Flash would end up considerably worse than the mug.

"Besides," Peter added, "Flash usually just mocks me a bit. Shoves me at most. When it comes to actually hitting me — that hasn't happened, so it's not really worth a beating over."

Harry swallowed, but didn't drop the idea of Peter actually fighting back. "Even so... well, okay, but there are other options, right? Maybe... tell a teacher?"

Peter sighed. The gloom on the face was thorough.

"You don't understand. Flash comes from money, and the family donated several labs to the school, so the teachers already look the other way. And on top of that..."

On top of that, under Flash's framing, Peter's internship at Stark Industries had been recast as proof that Peter lied out of vanity. It wasn't obvious, but Peter could feel it: a quiet, low-grade displeasure toward him from certain teachers.

Harry and the others looked at each other. Then, one by one, each gave Peter a hearty clap on the shoulder, repeated until question marks were practically visible over Peter's head, before speaking with complete and utter seriousness.

"Don't worry, Peter. Leave this to us. We'll definitely find a way to make Flash stop bullying you!"

Peter:?

For some reason, Peter felt significantly less reassured.

Hopefully something bad happens to Flash, ugh, no. Hopefully nothing happens to Flash...

Peter thought guiltily.

➤ Next: Finding a Way to Help Peter Parker