Sorry I never finished spooktober.
Enjoy! ❤️❤️❤️
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Everyone knows what grades are. You receive them in school, and it's a way to show your learning. It's the schools way of telling you what you need to improve in.
Peter had very good grades. For the most part. It was expected, especially since he was the son of Tony Stark. It was never spoken, because it was never necessary, but Peter had to get good grades. He had to do perfect in every class. Anything below a B was unacceptable. He had taught that too himself as soon as he was aware of the importance of grades. He would strive for an A+ by working hard.
Most the time it paid off. He had had excellent grades for every year leading up to his current year of school. He always got similar or better marks than his friends.
The previous year, he had the best marks he had ever received. His family was so proud of him, and he was proud of himself. He was pretty confident going into the next grade. After all, he had done so well the year before, hadn't he? Obviously he was going to try, but it couldn't be that much harder.
The year started off great. He was excelling in math, and Spanish, and he was on the decathlon. He was doing well in English and his grades were amazing.
Then he started to get tests and assignments back and marked in social studies. Suddenly, he wasn't doing very good anymore.
He had found it so easy last year, and had done so well, so why couldn't he figure it out this year? He started finding it harder to remember to study for tests, or label things properly. He became discouraged after more tests came back with worse grades.
Eventually, he made it to midterms. The grades were posted and he stared at his computer screen, anxiously waiting for it to load. Once the site loaded, he quickly clicked on Social Studies, desperate to know what his grade was currently.
He looked in disbelief as he realized for the first time ever, he had gotten a F. He reloaded the site, convinced a mistake had been made. He reflected on his test scores, and came to the conclusion, that no, it was not a mistake. It was his actual grade. He failed.
Tears welled up in his eyes. He knew it would be childish to cry over something such as grades. He was still passing. He realized that his dad would be asking about his grades soon, and he would have to show him. God it was awful.
A couple tears slipped down his cheeks and he quickly wiped them away. He looked up at the ceiling and quickly blinked, trying to get rid of the tears.
He used his phone camera as a mirror and saw that his eyes still had a tint of redness to them. He went back to looking up at the ceiling and blinking rapidly. He knew he looked ridiculous, but it was better than someone coming into his room and noticing his red eyes.
Then they would ask questions, and he would have to explain himself and his irrational fear of failing.
At this point, he had begun to question whether it was him, or Tony that put pressure on him. Maybe he had spun this into something much worse than it needs to be. Maybe no one in his family would care, or maybe the would understand that everyone has their academic weaknesses.
His stomach had formed a huge knot of anxiety just thinking about it.
Then he started thinking about it more. Who was the one who implied that he had to have good marks. Tony never said anything about it. Maybe he was putting all this pressure on himself for no reason. But then he remembered every time he didn't win and the way Tony would be visibly less excited, or happy for him. He remembered the time he pretended that one of his friends had gotten even a C on a test in social studies to see the response.
He remembered Tony saying that if someone is getting a C on anything, then they aren't trying hard enough. 'They should've studied more,' he had said. He had taken a mental note that day, that anything below a B was unacceptable. It meant that he wasn't trying, or he should've done better.
Just thinking about the way he would be disappointing Tony made a couple more tears fall to the ground. Clearly thinking about it wasn't helping.
He sent a message to Ned to see what his marks in social studies were. He waited, and waited, and waiting some more. After about 20 minutes Ned replied.
He had the exact same mark as Peter. Of course, Peter wanted Ned to be as successful as possible, but it brought him some comfort knowing he wasn't the only one who had gotten that grade.
Of course, just thinking that made him think that he was a horrible friend. Why did it bring him comfort in his friend not doing amazing? Ned then reminded Peter that they had an upcoming test, and they agreed that they were both going to try even harder than before to change their grades before the end of the semester. He hoped it would be enough.
He spent the next 30 minutes taking notes, and setting up flashcards. He still had other responsibilities though, and he couldn't stop life for a day. He still needed to go on patrol. He couldn't let innocent people either die, or be traumatized because he was being selfish.
He went out for patrol for a while and when he got back he looked at the clock.
"Shit!" He cursed. It was 10 PM and he still had to finish a couple more things.
A couple days had passed, and it was made known to parents that report cards had been written.
Tony knocked on Peters door, waiting for permission before entering.
"So, kid, how'd you do on your report card?" He inquired.
"Pretty good." He answered, keeping it short and simple. He could feel the burn of the lie as it slipped through his lips.
"Yeah?" Tony raised an eyebrow. Usually Peter would go into detail, explaining how he did in his classes, and what he thought got him that mark. "Can I see it?"
Peter sighed and handed him the paper copy. "Here." He had millions of thoughts racing through his mind, all circling one thought. Is he disappointed in me?
Soon enough, the thoughts had been brought down to his stomach and it was as though they had all gotten tied together.
Tony read through it, his expression giving nothing away. Eventually he reached the social studies section and at that, his eyebrows raised a little. Peter took note of the small frown forming on Tony's face.
Peter felt nothing but shame creeping up on him.
"F?" Tony asked quietly.
"I'm sorry," whispered Peter.
Tony looked at Peter, then back down at the paper he held. He was silent.
"I'm sorry," Peter tried again. All he wanted was for Tony to tell him it was fine, that he would help him understand it. That he would help him get a better score in the future.
"I'm sorry," Peter whispered once more, his voice cracking as he stared at the floor.
He heard nothing back, just like every other time.
After a few more seconds, he looked up to see Tony turn and silently leave, still holding the report card.
It would've hurt less if he had screamed at him.
Peter quickly closed his door and let the tears fall. He had disappointed his father. He screwed up.
After a couple minutes of indulging in the self pity, he got up and wiped his eyes using his sleeve.
He texted Ned, put on his Spider-Man suit and swung out the window. After swinging for a little, he landed outside of Ned's window. He tapped a couple times and Ned quickly opened it.
Peter had brought a bag with a few things in it, so he quickly changed into something more comfortable.
Ned had said that he could stay for a couple nights, and that was enough for Peter.
Eventually, those nights passed, and Peter knew it would be time to go back home. He had been ignoring all the calls or texts from them, and he turned his location off. He had managed to get Ned to block them all, so he wouldn't be bothered by the messages.
He was prepared to head home, but decided that he should probably check his messages to see how bad it is.
72 missed calls. From each Avenger. He was slightly impressed by their dedication.
Natasha's messages were comforting, and they seemed to serve the purpose of coaxing him back home. There was no harsh words spoken.
Peppers messages were frantic and worried.
Thors messages were in caps and half of them were him trying to figure out how to text.
Even Loki had messaged him, which surprised Peter. Loki seemed concerned, but not too concerned.
Clints messages were similar to Natasha's, just with a little more concern.
Last, he checked Tony's messages. They were angry. So, so angry. Angry enough that Peter was beginning to question if he should go home, or if he should try his best to start a new life.
Obviously he knew he would have to go back home. He already felt immense guilt for making them worry. He had been childish, and selfish and he shouldn't have been that bothered by silence. No harsh words had been spoken, but the silence had cut deep like knives.
He paused outside of the tower, silently praying to Loki that he wouldn't be in that much trouble.
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Idk how to end this one, really. So if anyone wants a part 2, just ask and maybe mention if you want it to be fluff or angst.
Hope you enjoyed!
Remember to eat/sleep/drink enough and take some time to yourself if you need it! I love you!
Bye!
-Author
(2023-11-18)