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Ned’s day cannot get any crazier. His best friend may be a superhero who frequently blows his mind with the craziest true stories ever, but today is the day. The day he’s been waiting for. The day of champions.
His Temu package is here.
This glorious morning, Ned had awoken with the smell of freshly cut grass tingling along his nose hairs, the sweet symphony of birdsong in his ears, and a dream in his heart.
He had dashed out of the front door, silencing his birdsong school alarm as he went. He’d sprinted down the corridor, then upon remembering that he hadn’t blown out his breakfast lawn-scented candle, immediately backtracked to do so.
And that was when it had happened. As he had rounded the corner to re-enter his apartment, he came face to face with the most magnificent view to ever view. Gus the delivery boy.
Well.. maybe Gus himself wasn’t necessarily the most beautiful view ever, but the contents he held in his arms certainly were.
He had the goods.
Ned's new Lego lightsaber pens!!!!
A set of eight high-quality biros, expertly made with only the finest craftsmanship. The ink cartridges are replaceable and customisable, and the lid has the appearance of a lightsaber hilt. But obviously, the best feature is the fact that the beam of each saber is a different colour- meaning that Ned can do his neutral ramblings in a classic blue or green scrawl, but can lend his eviller, more sinister plots to the red script of Dooku’s blade.
In conclusion: awesome as fuck.
So obviously, Ned’s day had hit peak crazy.
Or at least that’s what he’d thought.
Until he hears the screams.
Well, more accurately, Peter hears the screams. But the terrified look on Peter’s face as the boy finished writing his name on his Chem test was certainly not a result of the sheet’s contents. The colour drains from Peter’s face faster than Ned can miss a titration point, and his eyes take on their determined gleam. Spider-Man is needed somewhere.
Ned sighs and scans his desk. If Peter is about to sneak out of class, he’ll need to create a distraction, something to get everyone looking away from the door.
Currently, Ned and Peter are in the back left of the room by the windows, and Peter will have to get all the way to the front right to leave via the door.
The door that Mr Harrington is currently standing beside.
Not ideal, Ned thinks to himself, as he begins to formulate his plan. He’ll need to draw Mr Harrington over to his desk, ideally facing the front wall. Right about where he can see Flash crouched right now, apparently rifling through some papers that had been pushed to the back of the teacher’s desk.
Bingo.
As swift as a coursing river, Ned grabs his eraser and yeets it with all the force of a great typhoon at the wall above Flash’s head. Flash yelps, immediately drawing the attention of Mr Harrington and just about every student in the room. (Not MJ, she’s always been above trivial screams).
The chaos is a fantastic distraction if Ned does say so himself, but he’d been watching the door the whole time and Peter still hadn’t left. Gods, he’ll need to up the ante. Ooh boy, he really wishes it hadn’t come to this point.
Back when they were young’uns, Nedward Leeds and Peter Parker had created their Project Hail Mary™ (no they definitely didn’t copy the title from the name of any book… mostly). This code red, DEFCON 0 level contingency plan covered any and all possible scenarios foreseeable to the two 12 year olds at the time.
It was time to enact Operation Distractroy: Bolton turns all the heads.
Yes, it's a stupid name- it makes absolutely zero sense. But they were 12!
Ok, it’s go time. Ned gathers himself together and does a quick full-body shake to expel those pesky nerves. You can do this Leeds, be as strong as a raging fire. He walks up to Mr Harrington, who had just ordered Flash back to his desk.
Ned clears his throat. “Um, Sir? I know this test has been stressing some of us out, so I was wondering if I could quickly address the class to provide some encouragement to everybody?”
Mr Harrington faces Ned with one eyebrow raised. He doesn’t seem horrendously opposed to the idea, so Ned carries on. “Perhaps I can remind everyone why we all love being here, and that our revision has been worth it?” He even turns his puppy dog eyes on the teacher. “Please?”
It works. Mr Harrington, the kind hearted (naïve) teacher that he is, decides to trust Ned, and allows him to address the class, stepping quickly in front of the digital whiteboard to give Ned some space.
Ned clears his throat again and pointedly stares at his shoes as he begins to give the class a short spiel about how great chemistry (and Mr Harrington) were, and how really, don't tests all bring them together?
He glanced up and cringed at the vacant faces on the front row. Crap, he was losing them.
If he wants to really distract the class, he’ll have to pull out all of the stops.
Ned turned beet red, but knew he could do it. For Peter he begrudgingly thinks, as he hesitantly begins singing the chorus of ‘We’re all in this together’ from High School Musical.
He steps to the side and pumps his arms up twice towards him, finally looking fully up at the class, horror dawning upon him as he sees the window by where Peter had been sat, watching as a spider-themed hand reaches up from the outside wall to slide it shut.
The window clicks softly, and the hand forms a quick thumbs up, before waving, and then Spider-Man can be seen shooting a web and zooming away from Midtown School of Science and Technology.
Ned was floored. Gobsmacked. Flabbergasted. He was currently singing and dancing to High School Musical, in front of his dumbfounded class of nerds, and it was for NOTHING??
Ooh boy Peter Parker was about to be a dead man.
—
10 minutes into the test, after a mortified Ned had dejectedly returned to his seat, the whiteboard screen crackles to life from where it had been displaying a clock, and cuts to a black screen.
The class watches the screen as it briefly flashes between channels like it was trying to decide what to play. A frame of some old basketball game, some advert for medication and what Ned swears could have been part of the Never Gonna Give You Up music video.
It then turns black again for a few seconds before finally, a video starts to play.
The man who appears on the screen is wearing a mask. But not a cool Halloween type mask, a fully black one. One that shows no facial features. One that is typically worn by the type of people that Peter works to stop.
Sometimes Ned thinks he has his own ‘Ned tingle’ that tells him when Peter is doing something stupid. And this balding, mask wearing man is definitely giving him the vibe that Peter has something to do with the video.
The man on the screen takes his mask down like it’s supposed to be a big reveal although looking around the room, no one else in the class knows this random middle aged man either.
“Hello there”, he grins. Ned had to hand it to him, that was pretty intimidating. A hush falls over the classroom as everyone waits for what comes next.
The man opens his mouth to keep talking, but he gets interrupted by a voice in the background of the video replying: “General Kenobi?”
Goddammit Peter.
A few gasps are let out as some people recognize Spider-Man’s voice while Ned tries not to laugh as he watches the- what Ned assumes to be a kidnapper- attempt to ignore Peter. But if he looked hard enough he could see the man grit his teeth in annoyance.
The kidnapper starts again, “I’m sure you’re all… intrigued… to know why I’ve commandeered your screens”. He smirks, once again revealing his slightly gross looking yellow teeth. Ned isn’t one to body shame but this dude should invest in some dental floss. Or you know, just a toothbrush? Basic hygiene? His camera setup suggests he certainly has the funds for it.
Because he is, apparently, always on the same page as Ned, Peter claps back with, “I’m more intrigued as to why I can smell your breath from five meters away.”
Mr Plaque-Teeth huffs and clenches his jaw even more. Oh gods Peter really needs to stop pissing off kidnappers.
“Well New York”, he continues after steeling himself. “I believe I have something of yours that you hold very dear”.
“Awww you flatter me”, the offscreen voice of Spider-Man replies, managing to command triple the authority of the man currently holding a gun without even being in the video.
This taunt seems to finally make him snap in anger. “Can you shut up!?” He turns and yells at where Ned assumes Peter is being held.
“Sorry for the running commentary folks” he laughs a bit, trying to look tough but it comes out slightly sad sounding. “Well I’m sure most of you have caught on by now.”
The man reaches out, turning the camera to reveal Spider-Man (still fully suited thank Thor) handcuffed to a metal chair.
The class gasps in unison.
Mr Harrington looks like he is going to faint.
MJ had stopped watching the video and instead returned her attention to the test in front of her. Sue her- it was important.
And Ned was praying that Peter would please stop talking so he wouldn’t have to patch up another stab wound from another criminal whose entire lineage Peter managed to insult.
“This arachnid hero of yours sure is a talker.”
Ned nodded in solidarity with the kidnapper. While most who knew Spider-Man would say his weakness would be his loyalty or self-sacrificing nature; Ned personally believes Peter’s fatal flaw to be his complete and utter lack of ability to shut the fuck up.
“Thank you.” Spider-Man said, chest puffing up in earnest.
Case in point.
“You have no idea how many villains I have to fight that call me bug. It’s good to know at least some of you have even an inkling of intelligence.”
Peter looks his kidnapper up and down, his mask’s eyes squinting in examination.
“Even if it’s not a lot more than an inkling.”
Ned sighs, mentally trying to remember where he left his needle, thread and bandages from last time.
The kidnapper laughs darkly- lifting his arm and pointing his pistol directly at Spider-Man’s face.
“If you don’t shut up, imma put a bullet through your fucking shoulder.”
A student beside Ned flinches in their chair.
Peter showed no such fear. “Dude take a chill pill, your voice is starting to squeak a bit.”
The deep growl the man let out was telling that that was the wrong response.
“Hey there’s no need to be embarrassed. It happens to all of us, it’s perfectly natural.” Peter shook his head slightly. “You see when you get older your body starts to change. Your voice drops, you get sweaty and hairy, although from the looks of it you seem to actually be losing hair”, he tilted his head at the kidnapper.
“You-“ he started, before getting immediately interrupted again.
Spiderman chuckled. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of-“
The sound of a bullet rattles the screen as the man stays true to his promise. There was no speaking. The whole room had gone silent, with Peter himself only responding with a slight “oof” as a small patch of blood begins to bloom on his shoulder.
“Shut your goddamn mouth!” The kidnapper yells, his voice somehow reaching a pitch only dogs can hear.
Peter grimaces slightly but otherwise makes no other noise to show it hurts.
Along with most of the class, Ned flinched at the sound, however he was more focused on the incredible notes the kidnapper managed to hit with his voice. Honestly he kind of sounded like Dr Doofenshmirtz.
“Huh” Peter, as usual, vocalised Ned’s thoughts. “You sound like Dr Doofenshmirtz.”
“How dare you!” The kidnapper screamed, now doing what seemed to be his best attempt as cosplaying a tomato. “I have you tied up here, at my mercy. I’ve fucking shot you and you’re still making jokes?”
He was so angry he was making no attempt to disguise his voice anymore. “I’ve spent weeks on my plan and-“, he squeaked out before being so rudely interrupted by his kidnappee.
“And what exactly is your plan?” Peter turned his head, looking straight into his captor's soul. “To take over the tri state area?”
Another bullet made its home in Peter.
Ned signed. That one was entirely Peter’s fault for never knowing when to shut up.
Spider-Man audibly groaned that time. “Ok yeah, I knew my commitment to the bit would be my undoing one of these days.”
The man was physically growling at this point. “You think you’re so clever don’t you!”
“I mean kind of.” Spider-Man uttered under his breath, despite the fact that he could almost hear Mr Stark in his ear telling him to SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY.
“Well you aren’t!” The kidnapper laughed at him.
“You’re weak and pathetic”, he spat. “I captured you! So many others have tried but they all failed. Except me. No one, not even you can stop me now!”
At that speech, Peter hung his head.
He looked to be in thought.
The kidnapper grimmed at his defeated look, finally content that his prisoner had shut up.
“Please don’t do it Peter”, Ned whispered to himself. He really didn't want to patch up a third bullet hole in his best friend.
After a second or two, Spider-man looked up. “What about a semi aquatic, egg-laying mammal of action?”
Only to get promptly punched in his face. “That’s it!” The kidnapper screamed, the last shred of sanity in his eyes ripped instantaneously away by Ned’s best friend’s inability to let an uncomfortable silence sit.
“It’s time the world saw Spider-Man for who he really is. Not some invincible hero, but a small, nobody human like the rest of us!” He advances on Spiderman.
Peter angles his head away. “Wait man, we can talk this out.”
Thick fingers grab the bottom of his mask.
In the classroom, only Ned’s faint mumblings and the scratch of MJ’s pen can be heard.
“Come on dude”, Peter chuckles nervously, “just let me go, I have a chemistry test I'm supposed to be in right now and-.”
His mask was now rising about his mouth, making him jerk further into his chair. He soon gasped, realising it made more blood leak out of his already morbid bullet wounds.
“I promise I won’t tell Perry dude, there’s no reason to do this.”
Unfortunately his self defense mechanism of bad jokes doesn't save him from getting his mask ripped off completely.
His face now completely naked and exposed, Peter leans back in the chair in defeat. “And you did it. Our deal’s off. Imma tell Agent P and you’re going down.”
The kidnapper laughs. Not at Peter’s amazing joke (because he’s an asshole who clearly never learned to appreciate humour) but at his young face. “Well would you look at this. Spider-Man’s just some random kid.”
“Well that's just hurtful.” Peter glares up at him, but with the absence of the white lenses of his mask, even Ned had to admit it looked pitiful. Peter Parker had never been particularly intimidating.
The kidnapper laughs again.
“This sure is something.” He tilts his head in clear glee. “Now!” He stands up, getting something out of his pocket that Ned can’t see. “I’m a very busy man and I need you to be quiet for a while so this’ll knock you out for a bit”.
He moves his hand towards Peter’s neck, the movement now making it clear he is holding a needle full of Odin knows what.
Before Peter could aggravate his wounds any more by trying to escape, the needle is plunged into his neck, the mystery liquid making its way through his veins.
The kidnapper stands up, pocketing the now empty needle, and grins at the camera once more. This time, it is clearly victory shining in his eyes.
He turns to look directly at the camera. Addressing the thousands watching once again. “I do so hope you enjoy the show.”
Weirdly, he then places a few items on a table to the left of the chair. “I'll be back soon and we can begin the next act.” With that, he prances out of the room, ominously eyeing the pair of pliers and blowtorch he’d just set down as he leaves.
The feed on the whiteboard blips momentarily but stays on.
The class is silent as they watch the now unmasked Spider-Man sit there for what must only be about 30 seconds. Despite the drugged, far away look in his eyes and the ever growing blood stains expanding on his suit, he effortlessly breaks the left cuff on the chair, leaving half the metal dangling from his wrist.
To everyone else he probably looked half dead but to Ned, Peter looked like he did every morning after 4 hours of sleep and way too many red bulls to be considered healthy. Still, whatever was in the needle combined with copious blood loss concerned Ned. Peter always got his stupidest ideas with the least amount of blood in his body.
As if he could read Ned’s mind (he can’t, the two of them had checked many times when they were younger) Peter tries to walk away from the chair before the pull from the other handcuff- the one that’s still attached to his right wrist- almost sends him sprawling to the floor.
He jerks his arm again, looking confusedly at it, before this time breaking the ring of the handcuff, his arm almost hitting his own face with the momentum of the tug.
He starts mumbling to himself, eyes quickly glossing over the torture tools and camera, not really registering them. “Fucking kidnappers always forgetting about my metabolism.”
Great Parker, now everyone in the world knows, great job. Ned should start getting hazard pay for the stupid shit his friend does.
“I’m basically fine.” He slurs, managing to almost fall what looks like seven times in the two steps he takes. “Not even drugged. Who’s drugged?” He stops, looking up in thought. “Not me”.
The next step (if you could call it that) he takes makes the handcuffs still around his wrist bang against his leg.
He lifts up the offending metal, looking at it with a glare. “Are you drugged?” He interrogates the handcuffs.
Dropping his arm back to his side, Spider-Man proceeds to stand, swaying for a few seconds and still gazing off into thin air, seemingly deciding what to say.
Finally deciding on: “No”.
He spins on the spot, searching for the door, muttering to himself the whole time. “My Motabenism… I have… biology.”
He stops again before wrenching open the door. “No wait- chemistry. I'm… test”
At last Peter stumbles off screen. A slamming sound echoes through the speakers, followed by a faint “oh fucksickle”.
The camera stays on, presumably for the world to see a scared, hopeless Spider-Man wallow in his failure, but until the kidnapper comes back all it will display is an empty, bloody chair with one half of a handcuff dangling pathetically from the single unbroken arm.
—
The class was in uproar. Voices overlapped, realisations bouncing around, questions were fired off- often aimed at MJ or Ned.
“That was Peter right?”
“-obviously that was Peter! He still had some green pen on his forehead from when he walked into Cindy's art project in homeroom this morning!”
“-think anyone knew he was Spider-Man?”
“Woah Ned really wasn't kidding when he said Peter knew Spider-Man huh”
“-you reckon he can lay eggs?”
“Hold on you mean to tell me my super hero crush is Peter motherfucking Parker?? The same nerd who walks into door frames and apologises to them?”
“dude he probably knows the Avengers”
“when did he even leave the classroom anyways? I swear he was in today?”
Eventually MJ can't take it anymore. “Can everyone shut the hell up” she hisses, but it is enough to silence the entire room.
“Does no-one even care that he was just drugged? We can't even see him on the feed right now, anything could be happening to him!”
As usual, she’s right.
The class seems appropriately chastised, but one person was not to be deterred.
“I don't even think any of that was real. Penis probably just filmed that stupid home video and then tried to use it as an excuse because he didn't wanna revise for the test.”
The voice was Flash, as usual. MJ scoffs. Really, you’d think that there would be a point when Flash would just accept that he was drowning deep in that river in Egypt.
She opens her mouth to point out some very basic facts to her classmate, but as she does, the door to the classroom clatters open and all heads swivel to the front in surprise.
And as if the interruption itself wasn't surprising enough, no one was prepared for who exactly walked through the door.
Lightning McQueen crocs entered first, followed swiftly by oil-stained jeans and a Black Sabbath t-shirt that kids these days would refer to as ‘vintage’. A man ducks into the room, eyes covered by a pair of expensive looking sunglasses, and the class sucks in a sharp breath.
Tony fucking Stark.
The billionaire himself is apparently unaware of the absolute absurdity that is a man of his position waltzing into a high school chemistry class at 13:18 on a Wednesday afternoon.
He takes off his glasses as he peers over the students. “Ted in this class?” he mutters as his eyes land on the boy in question.
“Ah, Mr Hackerman”
He strolls over to Ned’s desk and thrusts his phone at the boy.
Ned looks up at him with wide eyes. “Umm… Mr Stark… sir?” he questions as he gingerly reaches his hand forward, assuming that the mechanic’s intention is for him to take it from him. “Why are you giving me your phone?”
Tony rolls his eyes. “Your digits Leeds” he pauses but the teen still looks confused, “I need your phone number”.
Tony huffs. Today was not going well for him. He’d actually managed to sleep for a full three hours, only to be woken up at 8:09 am by Pepper announcing that he had six minutes to make himself presentable and dial himself in to an R&D meeting with the European branch of SI, and then, almost six hours later and still only one coffee into his day, that very same meeting had been interrupted by some kids TV sounding villain of the week, who had thought himself big and gone and kidnapped his son.
Well, not actually his son. Just his mentee/intern/daughter's favourite babysitter who had easily wormed his way into the hearts of the Starks, the Avengers, and pretty much any SI employee he'd ever met. But Tony definitely didn't see him as a son.
…Mostly
But anyway, to add the cherry to the top of Tony's absolutely ass-crack cake of a day, the man had tried and failed to locate Peter within 5 minutes. So then he’d had the smart idea to call Peter’s best friend and probe him for information, but found said best friends’ firewalls to be harder to break into than Fort Knox.
And that was using his AI. His. As in, Anthony Edward Stark, genius, billionaire, (reformed) playboy, philanthropist.
FRIDAY was, as Peter so crudely put it, ‘a goat’ (Tony dared not ask). Not to toot his own horn, but she was basically the most impressive thing he’d ever created. And yet, she couldn't access the telephone number of Peter's fellow Lego nerd best friend.
It was safe to say that once Ned Leeds graduated, he wouldn't need to be submitting thousands of applications if he was a fan of SI, as his position in the company was already firmly cemented.
So yes, Tony Stark, had actually been unable to contact the one teenager he knew who might have some useful information on Peter's whereabouts.
Hence his need for the boy’s number.
Because the next time Peter inevitably gets himself kidnapped, you would be able to bet your bottom dollar that Tony will be retrieving him before a single hair on his head can be touched.
Ned enters his number and places the phone on his desk just next to Tony for the man to pick up.
Tony does so, awkwardly patting Ned’s head in thanks while he pockets it.
Flash squeaks.
But Tony has no time for that. Now he needs answers. He needs to get to Peter.
“When did you see him last?” he questions.
Ned checked his watch, “Half an hour ago pretty much? I saw him write his name on his sheet before he heard some noise outside and left through the window”
Tony nods his acknowledgement, “alright you heard the man Fri, he can't have gone far. Run scans of every building and its basement within a five block perimet-”
He cuts himself off as something heavy hits the door frame, causing him to focus his attention on the new intruder.
A soft “fuck- sorry, miss door, ma’am” could be heard.
Tony feels his replacement heart speed up. Sure, he only knows one teenager particularly well, but he would still bet his tower that he will always be able to recognise that one.
And here he is.
Peter Benjamin Parker in the flesh.
He looks an absolute mess. Blood stains his clothes and hands, his eyes are glassy, and- is that green pen on his face? Apparently the kidnappers are getting artsy now.
What scares Tony the most though, is the kid’s absolute lack of awareness of his surroundings.
The entire class had been almost mute for a good five minutes now, jaws dropped open in what Tony could only assume was a classwide competition to catch the most flies.
But Peter is blind to his peers, focusing instead on drunkenly dragging himself over to his desk.
As he plonks down into his seat, he seemingly remembers his teacher, and loudly announces that he’s sorry he was late, and that his bowels were at fault should Mr Harrington wish to take the issue up with anyone.
Everyone stares on as Peter shakingly picks up his pen- the broken fucking handcuff still attached to his wrist- and begins circling answers on his sheet.
For another five minutes, no-one says a word, just watches as the boy shuffles in his seat, occasionally humming the Phineas and Ferb theme to himself as he works.
Eventually he nods to himself and tosses his boring, decidedly un-lightsabery biro onto his sheet as he pushes his chair back and stands up.
As he does so, the classroom speakers spring back to life and the whiteboard shows the man single handedly keeping New York dentists in business swaggering back into the screen.
Admittedly the swagger doesn’t last long.
As soon as he is fully in the frame, his eyes zero in on the abandoned chair and there is a loud clattering noise as the blowtorch he’d just grabbed drops to the floor.
The last thing they see is the kidnapper frantically running to the camera to turn it off, as if everyone hadn’t already witnessed and recorded his life's biggest failure on live TV and will be memeing it for years to come.
A flicker of recognition sparks across Peter’s face as the screen goes dark. He turns around slowly to face the class, his eyes briefly resting on Mr Harrington who was slumped over in his seat. Ned thinks he might have fainted about 10 minutes ago. No one noticed to check on him.
As Peter’s face scans his classmates, the recognition turns to dramatic realisation as his entire life's mistakes play in his head. He looks at Ned, only now noticing his mentor standing behind him.
oh
oh.
ohh
He stands there in shock. Searching his memories before realising that yes, there was a camera in the room the whole time. And yes, his whole chemistry class saw his kidnapping.
“OH?” Mr Stark addresses him for the first time. “That's all you're going to say?!”
Peter took in a shaky breath. “Was it only my class who-?” He asked hopefully before Tony stopped him.
“No.” He replied, a stern look on his face, with his arms crossed. “But more importantly, why the fuck did you come back to class in this state?”
He crossed the room in a few short strides looking Peter over like the mother hen he denied he was. “You’re actively bleeding out, drugged to hell and back and you decided to come and finish your test and-“, he looked down at it, “and wow this all looks correct, should I be concerned at how well you can do chemistry while actively dying?”
Peter still has not moved since his realisation. “Mr Stark, I think I’m high.”
Tony huffs, trying to manoeuvre his protege out the door. “No shit, doctor” He places his hand on Peter’s shoulder, throwing a peace sign behind his head to the once-again-shocked-to-silence class.
“Alright, let’s get you to the med-bay and get Cho to patch you up before I start recording this as evidence on why you’re never leaving the tower again.”
On the way out the door, Peter turns to Tony and whispers loud enough for everyone to hear. “Tony? Can I borrow your phone?”
He looks down at the vigilante and whispers back equally loudly. “Why, if you want to let your aunt know you’re not bleeding out everywhere, I already did that so don't worry.”
“No”, Peter whines back. “I need to update my twitter status Mr Stark.”
“Okay.” Tony says pushing Peter down the corridor a lot faster. The last thing Ned hears is him muttering. “Drugged up spiderlings don’t get twitter privileges Peter, you know this. Not after what happened last time. Clint’s reputation still hasn’t recovered.”