Spiderman Oneshots

Holding Back (bonus)

Peter Parker loved PE.

Of course, it was back to normal the next week (unfortunately, the coach refused to let them have a party every lesson (totally unfair)), not that Peter could join in for the first few weeks with the worst of his injuries still healing. But school was so much brighter knowing that he was loved and appreciated by his classmates, despite them not showing it most of the time. PE was the one lesson when everyone knew who and what he was, and didn't run from it. The one time that he, Peter Parker, could feel that flicker of pride in himself he only felt as Spider-Man. The one time he could truly be himself, without fear of the consequences.

The week that Peter finally came into school without a wheelchair, without crutches or a splint or a cast or a sling, the coach gave a broad smile.

"Excellent to see you looking better, Parker. Time to see, I think, what you can really do when you push your limits, like you did in that last class of mine."

"That wasn't me pushing my limits," Peter said, confused. "I just wasn't holding back as much as I usually do."

The coach and class stared at him, and he blushed as he realised how that sounded.

"I didn't mean to-"

"No, no," the coach waved him off, then pointed to the track, stopwatch in hand. "Let's see how fast you can go. No holding back."

No holding back. The words were like a key turning in a door he'd been too afraid to open before now, like the rustle of wings spreading as the world opened up around him. Peter smiled broadly, and ran to the track, pausing for a moment to prepare before bursting into a sprint.

This was faster than he'd ever run before. This was freedom, and flying, and glorious, glorious life. The wind rushed against his face, his feet pounded the ground, and he soared. He barely registered the first lap fly by beneath his feet, or the second, or the third or fourth. He just ran and ran, gaining speed as he went, trusting his natural agility to keep him balanced as he seen around the circular track.

Faster, and faster, and faster - BOOM! Peter stumbled to a stop in shock, looking around for the source of the sound. Everybody was staring at him.

"What happened?" He asked, panting slightly. He was- winded. For the first time since he'd been bitten by that spider, he felt tired. His legs ached slightly.

"That," the coach said slowly, in shock, "was the sound barrier." She held up the stopwatch. It had been barely seven seconds.

The entire class gawked.

"I've never- I've never run that fast before," Peter panted.

"Not even as Spider-Man?"

Peter shook his head mutely. "I hold back when I'm him as well. I don't want to hurt anybody."

The coach raised her eyebrows, then grunted as she hauled a punching bag up and clipped it to a rope near the wall.

"See how hard you can hit this. I'm curious."

Peter looked at Ned, worried as to how his classmates would react. Even he didn't know how far his own strength reached.

"Back to the wall, no run up."

Peter did as he was told, facing the punching bag with mild apprehension. His classmates and the coach stood to the side. Peter took a deep breath and tensed, then span and launched his fist into the bag. There was a moment of stillness, then the bag snapped off the rope and flew the whole length of the gym, not losing any altitude, then crashed into the opposite wall. No, not into. Through the wall, leaving a perfectly-punching-bag-shaped hole in the wall.

Everyone, Peter included, rushed over to look through the wall. The bag was lying several metres away, spilling sand everywhere. Peter had punched a hole right through it.

Silence. Peter closed his eyes. They were going to hate him. They were going to tell everyone and nobody would look at him without fear ever again.

"Say something," he whispered.

There was a beat of silence, then-

"That. Was. So. Cool!" Somebody yelled, and then he was surrounded by students all wanted to know what else he could do.

"Can you catch balls blindfolded?"

"How long can you do a handstand for?"

"Can you walk on your hands?"

"Can you benchpress the entire class?"

In the next half hour, he did all that and more. Eventually, the coach announced that everyone else had to do work as well, much to their dismay, and Peter could run laps on the ceiling.

Peter nodded, crouching then leaping up so his hands stuck to the ceiling, then bringing his legs up so he could stand. He had to tuck his shirt into his shorts to stop it falling off, then assessed his task. He had to hand it to the coach, she knew how to set a challenge. He couldn't run normally on the ceiling - as soon as he lifted both feet off the ground he would fall. He started at a brisk walk, then did his best to speed up into a sort of shuffle-jog. Despite all the time he spent fighting crime on the streets, he'd never really had any reason to test his limits upside down. Sideways on walls, sure, but never really upside-down for more than a few seconds. His powers stopped the blood from going to his head, but it didn't stop gravity from affecting him as soon as he lifted each foot, so even walking felt alien to him.

Maybe PE classes would prove to be invaluable training sessions after all. A safe haven of discovery where he could be himself without fear.

Below, the door to the gym opened.

"Hey, coach," the principle greeted. Peter tripped on one of the light fixtures and went sprawling, his contact with the ceiling lost as he plummeted to the floor. "Just came by to check in - a few teachers reported hearing loud noises a few-"

Peter tumbled out of the sky, automatically doing a flip and rolling into his landing with a small 'oof'.

"What the-"