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Title: Five Times Flash (Thompson) Met The Avengers
Author: marcicat
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5900
Author’s Note: Inspired by The Amazing Spiderman (movie) and, of course, the Avengers (movie), though I couldn’t resist adding in the ‘Phil Coulson as Peter Parker’s high school principal’ concept from the 2012 Spiderman animated series.
1. The first person to see the new principal was Flash Thompson. Well, “see” might be the wrong word. He had a standing appointment with the guidance office every Monday morning. (He mostly stared at the floor; she mostly said things like, ‘Don’t do anything stupid this week, and you may just make it to graduation.’ Sometimes he got coffee.) It wasn’t clear whether a giant lizard ripping through the halls was grounds for skipping, but what the hell, it wasn’t like he had anywhere better to be.
But yeah, either way, he was pretty sure they weren’t expecting him when he showed up forty-five minutes before the bell and shouldered open the office door. The whole place was rearranged — more like stripped bare, really. No carpet, no filing cabinets, seriously creepy looking. He stopped just inside, propping the door open with his foot. He could still take off.
Until one of the inner doors opened, and a man stuck his head out. “Office hours start at 8, come back later.” Because first, that was bullshit; the office was required to be open any time students were in the school. And second, that guy was Hawkeye. He wasn’t wearing his uniform or anything, but Flash watched enough online footage to be more sure than not. One of the Avengers was in his school. In the principal’s office.
“I have an appointment?” he offered.
That got him a second look. “Really? Shit. I mean, shoot.”
“With Ms. Raffertly?” He was trying to sound less like everything was a question, but he didn’t think it was working.
“Ms. Raffertly’s taken a leave of absence. We’re, uh, still working on filling her position.”
“Who is it?” called a second voice, from inside the office.
“Flash Thompson,” he said, not waiting for the question to be repeated.
“Your parents named you Flash?” (Which was rich, coming from a guy who went by “Hawkeye.”)
“No, my parents named me Eugene,” he said, letting his eyebrows convey the unspoken ‘wanna make something of it?’
He got a nod and a, “Wait here,” and then the door closed again. He didn’t bother trying to eavesdrop — not like he hadn’t been hearing variations on the same conversation his whole life.
Instead, he thought up a dozen potential undercover missions the Avengers might be working on at a high school. (The obvious answer was Spiderman, but he had to pass the time somehow, and sitting outside the principal's office was not the place to get busted texting.) Finally, the door reopened.
"Come with me."
The guidance office was only a few steps away, and then they were sitting, and for once Flash didn't feel like he was the most uncomfortable one in the room. "Can I call you Hawkeye?" he asked finally.
"No."
He shrugged, and there was a moment of awkward silence. "Call me Clint. Or Mr. Barton, if you have to. How do these meetings usually work?"
"You're supposed to tell me to stay in school, don't do drugs, don't fight on school property -- you know. That stuff."
"Sounds like you've got it down to me. You passing everything?"
He shrugged again. "I was last week."
“Good enough for me. Is that it?”
Flash hesitated, and he guessed that was enough to look suspicious, because he was suddenly getting the ‘don’t test my patience, I’m an Avenger’ look instead of the casual ‘I’m pretending to be a normal guy, call me Clint’ look. “I haven’t done my community service hours,” he admitted. “Ms. Raffertly usually brings that up.”
“Community service? You do something wrong?”
Frequently, but this time it wasn’t on him. “It’s a school requirement. Fifty hours to graduate. They didn’t have that when you went to school?”
“Me and high school never really saw eye to eye.”
“Yeah? What’d you do?”
More awkward silence, and then, “Joined the circus, actually. I don’t recommend it.”
And really, what did you say to something like that? Flash went with, “Okay,” because that seemed safe. When it looked like nothing else was going to get said, he added, “Am I set to go? I’ve got a first track.”
“Yeah, go for it.” He was waved out of the office, only to run into a giant wolf in the waiting area. He froze. The wolf stared at him.
Okay.
He could handle this. On a scale of one to rampaging lizard monster, this was probably still below locker searches or having his dad show up at school. He edged towards the chairs. The wolf kept staring, but didn’t switch over to growling or anything. Maybe it was just a large, wolf-like dog, sitting in the office for a perfectly legitimate and non-threatening reason.
Or possibly it was a trojan robot wolf sent to kill the unsuspecting superhero currently masquerading as the school’s new guidance counselor. Dammit. “Hi there,” he said quietly, carefully, trying to sound calm and totally not like prey.
The wolf didn’t move, but the principal’s door opened again, and a woman stepped out. “Oh, hey,” she said. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was here.” She gave the wolf an irritated look — it ignored her, and disappeared into the office. “I’m Darcy,” she continued. “Sorry for the hostile takeover vibe; a school gets attacked by one giant lizard and suddenly everyone wants a sabbatical. You would not believe the paperwork.”
She wasn’t going to mention the wolf. She also wasn’t an Avenger, or at least not one he recognized. “I forgot to get one of my forms signed,” he lied, and ducked back into the guidance office. He didn’t bother knocking, and took a paper airplane in the chest. Hawkeye - slash - Mr. Barton looked surprised to see him.
“There’s a wolf and someone who said her name is Darcy in the main office,” he said quickly, before he got yelled at. “Is that okay?”
He couldn’t figure out the look he got that time. Eventually, he also got a, “Yeah, they’re good,” and that was fine with him, whatever. There was no one there when he headed back out, and he didn’t wait around.
*****
2. Getting called to the front office was generally considered a Bad Thing. He couldn’t even think of anything he’d been caught at recently, which might mean it was nothing. (It was hardly ever nothing.)
On the other hand, on the list of “not nothing,” an office full of Iron Man and Captain America wasn’t in the top ten. Reality was as surprising as ever, and Flash tried hard not to look a) guilty or b) suspicious.
“Oh good, you’re here.” Captain America shut the door carefully behind him.
Iron Man turned around, and there was a tiny — something — on the desk. “We have to go do a thing,” he said. “Hawkeye volunteered you to babysit.”
Flash stared. “What?”
“Jan got hit by an amnesia ray while she was tiny.” Iron Man gestured at the desk. The tiny thing was a tiny person? “We’re working on it. She’s kind of hard to keep track of right now, so — babysitter. It’s fine, she’s cool with it.”
“You must have a base.”
“Too far away,” Captain America said. “This is the closest secure option at the moment.”
His high school was a secure location. Right. That, actually, he could believe. The rest of it? “Where’s Principal Coulson?” he asked.
“PT appointment. He’ll be back in an hour. Until then, congratulations, your security clearance just got upgraded.” Iron Man clapped him on the shoulder, and then he and Captain America went out the window (seriously, how was this his day?). He hadn’t even known he had a security clearance.
Flash sat down at the desk, resting his head on his hands so he could be at eye level with Jan — Wasp, judging by her costume. He was pretty sure her identity was supposed to be secret. “Hi,” he said, waving a finger in her direction.
She put her hands on her hips. “I have amnesia,” she said, and it was weird that he could hear her voice fine. Maybe the costume compensated for size changes. That would be both cool and practical.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry about that.”
“Did you shoot me?”
“What? No, of course not. Do I look like I have an amnesia gun on me?”
She studied him with her head tipped to the side. “I guess not? I have amnesia, though. Maybe I forgot what supervillains look like.”
She was messing with him. “I promise I’m not a supervillain,” he said solemnly, holding up his hand in the Vulcan salute.
They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then she crossed her arms and said, “Okay, I’m bored now. Seriously, do I have any good powers? Being tiny is super not useful.”
“You can fly?” Flash offered. “That’s useful. And you do an — energy thing. You know, ‘pew pew pew’?” He wiggled his fingers, and Jan looked at her own hands with interest.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
She looked like she was thinking about trying it, which maybe wasn’t the best idea, and then the phone rang, and he picked it up automatically. Which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the best idea either. He stared at it for a few seconds of panic, till hanging up would be worse than whatever he could say. “Midtown High,” he managed to get out. “Can I help you?” Jan gave him a thumbs up and hit the speaker button.
“Flash?”
“Parker?” he answered. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“I have a free track.”
It was a terrible excuse. Did that actually work on anyone? “No you don’t.”
“Fine, I’m cutting. Is Principal Coulson there? I really need to talk to him.”
“He’ll be back in an hour.”
There was a sigh from the other end of the line, like Flash was deliberately being difficult. He rolled his eyes. Finally, they heard, “So, this is — the thing is —" Much fainter, someone yelled, “Incoming!” It was entirely possible there were some explosions.
“Never mind,” Parker said. The line went dead.
“Well, that was rude,” Jan said. “Who was that guy?”
“Peter Parker. He goes here.”
“He’s cutting class and trying to call the principal? Pretty suspicious. Is he on the team? Please tell me he’s not one of our kids or something.” She smacked her forehead. “Oh crap, now I’m going to feel awful if he is.”
Flash stared at her. “I — no. I’m pretty sure he’s not.” He had his own suspicions about Parker and masked hero-ing, but he wasn’t about to start sharing them. “He lives with his aunt.”
Jan groaned. “I really hope I’m not this awkward when I don’t have amnesia. Can we blame amnesia for this?”
“Sure.” Figuring he could always claim a little amnesia himself, he offered, “Want to see if we can find out what’s going on out there?” He pointed at the computer to make it clear he wasn’t actually offering to sneak her back into a potential supervillain battle with only a slim chance that she’d recognize the people who were on her side.
“You can do that?” Jan asked.
“It’s New York. Someone’s always got a camera and an opinion.” And a lot of those someones were specifically watching for Avengers.
(Which was how they ended up getting caught by Principal Coulson on a meme site, with Jan in stitches laughing at VegVengers. Really, you’d think anyone would be able to see the humor in the Avengers being re-imagined as the healthiest of the food groups, but apparently not. Jan offered him a tiny fist bump of solidarity, at least, which he thought was nice of her.)
“You’re free to go,” Principal Coulson said, nodding at Flash before focusing his attention on Jan. “Banner has the amnesia reversal worked out; he’ll be here as soon as they’re done.”
It felt ridiculous, but he waited for an excused tardy slip, and then another piece of paper was handed over with it. “What’s this?” he said.
There was almost a smile on the principal’s face, and he couldn’t decide if it was friendly or threatening. “Consider this your first hour of community service.”
*****
3. The Avengers became a presence in the school, and no one believed their line about highlighting the importance of education. (Student opinion loudly proclaimed that baby lizards with laser guns were going to burst out of the sewers at any moment, but no one really believed that either. They all stayed away from the ground floor bathrooms anyway.)
Flash figured there were two options: they were there on Spider-watch, or they were there for Gwen. Gwen was his first guess, actually. She was crazy smart, she’d worked directly for Dr. Connors, and her dad died in the attack. He’d never turn her in, or anything, but if they were waiting for a breakout villain, she was probably the logical choice.
Gwen didn’t seem focused on villainy, though, and most of the Avengers didn’t seem interested in the students at all, so it was hard to say. They came in ones and twos, every few days, into the office and out again. Hawkeye (it was way too weird to think of him as Mr. Barton) was the exception — unofficially or officially, he was still inhabiting the guidance office full time.
(Flash spent a lot of time in the cafeteria across the hall, because ‘might get to see the Avengers pretending to be civilians’ combined with ‘can get food’ and ‘not at home’ to make a damn good incentive.) He had the place to himself before first track, mostly.
Until one morning when the Black Widow marched in propelling Gwen by the elbow. “Sit,” she said, pointing to the seat across from him. Gwen sat. “You still need community service hours?”
That seemed to be directed at him, so he nodded. “Good,” she said. “Consider this a service to your community. Stay here, don’t get into trouble. Watch her.”
She left as quickly as she’d entered, one hand to her earpiece, and he narrowed his eyes at Gwen. “What did you do?”
“What? I didn’t do anything!” Gwen’s expression looked like she was trying for innocent, but falling short somewhere around shifty excitement.
“Did you blow something up?” he asked.
“Of course not. Are we really just going to stay here?”
“Yeah,” he said. “We are.” He was pretty sure she was going to protest, so he added, “Look, I get that — some people, that you may know, have zero ability to ask for help. So the whole foisting it upon them — it works for you, which is great, really. But I think the Avengers have plenty of backup without us, you know?” (He hoped that she got that he was talking about Parker, not himself, or anything. When he needed help, he asked for it. See exhibit A: tutoring.)
There were a few seconds where Gwen just looked back and forth between him and the door. He ate more cereal. Then she said, “Wait, that was one of the Avengers?”
Had she really not noticed? “She’s here practically every day,” Flash said.
The cafeteria doors swung open again, and Parker slouched in. He threw himself down next to Gwen and dropped his head down on his arms. “I’m so benched,” he mumbled. Then he looked up, like the world’s slowest double-take. “Oh. Hey Flash.”
“Parker. Do you ever sleep?” he asked. He looked terrible. Things had been weird between them ever since Flash stopped punching him and figured out the whole — well, it wasn’t that hard to see, was it? Not if you were really looking. Besides, Ms. Raffertly had threatened pamphlets and no more coffee if he didn’t cut it out. (He missed her. On the other hand, he’d finally started on his community service hours, so that was something.)
“I took a nap, yesterday. In history,” Parker said slowly. “There was a movie.”
Gwen made a sympathetic sound. “You need to sleep, Peter.”
Flash tapped his fingers on the table as a thought occurred to him. “Do you need to sleep? Is that, like, a thing?” Parker and Gwen both stared at him.
“Come on, I’m not stupid,” he told them. “And I’m not going to tell anyone, jesus, stop looking at me like that.” There was an awkward silence, so he added, “I didn’t think you thought you were hiding it. Seriously, the Avengers have a daily check-in.”
More staring, and finally Parker said, “They’re here for Coulson, actually. He’s recovering from some injury; he’s the team liaison, I think. That’s what Jan called him. Darcy says he’s part of the family.”
Huh. That was unexpected, actually. Coulson? His fingers itched to get online and go back through the photo posts. Too bad he’d only gotten to talk to Jan while she had amnesia. And apparently Darcy was involved, which meant the wolf… “What’s with the wolf?” he asked.
“Who?”
“There was a wolf,” Flash said. “In the office one day. You haven’t met it?”
Parker just shook his head.
“Maybe you need a web,” Gwen said. “You know, to sleep, because you look kind of…”
“Strung out?” Flash offered, only half joking. (He could always play ID the Avenger later. He wondered how tacky it would be to ask Parker to get autographs for him.)
Gwen gave him an irritated look, and he shrugged. Whatever, it was true. “I wasn’t going to say that,” she said.
Parker shook his head. “I don’t need — that’s crazy.“
“Right. That’s what’s crazy.”
It kind of made sense, actually. “Maybe you need to —“ He spread his fingers out wide along the table. “— big picture it. You know? Like computer pingbacks, or something.”
All that got him was both Parker and Gwen looking at him like he was nuts. Naturally, that was when the door burst open. (Literally, exploded into a million pieces kind of bursting open. Not as cool looking as he would have thought.) And then someone yelled, “Clear!” from the hallway, and the Black Widow stuck her head in. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding at all apologetic. “Got him.”
“‘Got him?’” someone echoed. “That was all me.”
A third voice joined in. “Shut it Stark. Repulsor blasts don’t do that. It was my shot that took it down.”
“Blew it up, maybe. Not exactly useful, if you ask me.”
“Funny, I didn’t hear anyone asking you.”
“I was volunteering; it’s a teamwork thing. Ask Hulk.”
“Please. Everyone knows you’re his favorite.”
“Are they like this all the time?” Gwen said, looking at the remains of the doors with a dubious expression.
Parker just groaned, and put his head back down on the table.
*****
4. Flash didn’t see the wolf again until Gwen moved all her tutoring to the public library. She was avoiding being at home, he figured, and guaranteeing an excuse to run into Parker. (Sure enough, he was there too. Looked like he was doing some quality studying of the ceiling tiles, but there were books around him, so maybe he was finally doing that essay for english.)
Gwen set them up next to the kids section, because silence made him fidget. Plus, the kids were doing that read to dogs program, which was a great distraction. And one of the dogs? Totally the wolf from the office. It dwarfed even the retrievers, but lay quietly on the floor with kids draped all over it while they read.
Parker ignored it completely, and Flash wondered if he even knew the Avengers had sicced their wolf on him.
He got his chance to ask when Gwen left him alone with a problem set. Jan slid into the seat across from him. “Hi,” she said. “Fancy meeting you here.”
He looked deliberately from her to Parker to the wolf and back. “Sure,” he said.
“Okay, so it’s not entirely a coincidence,” Jan offered.
Flash circled the answer to number four carefully. “How’s Mr. Coulson doing?” (He’d found pictures, eventually. The guy wasn’t just a suit and tie. Even if he never did seem to set foot outside his office.)
“Better. Thanks for asking.” Jan didn’t looked surprised by the question. “And, you know, thanks for watching me when I had amnesia.” She held out her hand for a fist bump, which was actually a lot easier when she was person-sized and not tiny.
“So,” he said, when it looked like she might have actually just been coming over to say hi, and was about to leave again. It wasn’t the best opening. He could just leave it alone. Gwen and Parker were handling it.
(But maybe they couldn’t, and the best the Avengers had mustered up for a high school guidance counselor stand-in was Hawkeye, so he wasn’t sure how much they were paying attention either.)
Jan sat back down.
He weighed out what he wanted to say, whose secrets he was going to knock out into the open and how they might react. “The wolf,” he started. “He?”
Jan nodded warily. “He’s a he,” she confirmed.
“He’s not always a wolf, though?” He held up his hands quickly when that got him a tense sort of glare. “Not prying! I just thought, he might be able to offer some pointers. To Spiderman. About instincts.” Flash got out the last few fragments and kept his eyes carefully on his hands.
From across the table, he heard a sigh. “Please, please tell me Spiderman doesn’t transform into a spider, giant or otherwise.”
He looked up. “Would that be a deal breaker?”
That time she did look surprised. “No, of course not. We might need to rearrange some furniture, but no. You mean he really does?”
“Not that I know of, no.”
“Well, that’s something, at least.”
“I’m serious,” Flash said. “You’ve seen him move, seen him fight — it’s not a mask or a suit of armor for him. He feels like that all the time.” There was really no way to say ‘some of those internet conspiracy theories about pre-existing spider DNA are both uncanny and surprisingly plausible, and maybe someone should be looking into that?’ without sounding way over-invested, so he just raised his eyebrows and hoped she got it.
Jan sighed again. “Yeah, I hear you.” Behind her, the reading group was finishing up. “Hang on,” she said. “Back in a minute.”
Flash went back to the problem set. He didn’t, actually, expect her to come back. Gwen would check his work, explain what the hell was going on with number fifteen, and he’d leave.
Except she did. “Hey,” Jan said.
She wasn’t alone — there was a guy with her. It took a second, and Flash felt his eyes go wide when it hit him. “Holy shit, you’re Bucky Barnes.”
The guy (Bucky Barnes!) smiled, like having high school kids recognize him in a library was a highlight of his day. “That’s what they tell me,” he said. “Nice to meet you.” Flash nodded automatically, but his mind was stuck on the whole ‘five minutes ago there was Jan, and there was a wolf, and now there’s Jan, and Bucky Barnes.’ That was not in the publicity packet.
“You too,” he finally managed.
“Spiderman?” Jan prompted.
“Honestly, if you guys are going to talk about me, you might as well invite me over.” Parker looked nervous despite the words, but he sat down when Gwen tapped the chair next to hers. “Also, a public library? Not exactly a secure location.”
“I like books,” Barnes said.
Jan rolled her eyes. “It’s secure. Secure-ish. Besides, you won’t come to the Tower.”
Barnes added, “It’s pretty much down to me or Loki at this point if you’re trying to avoid everyone who wants to study you or smother you.”
(Flash was pretending not to listen, hoping no one would notice he was still there. As the only non-hero, non-friend of Parker, he was pretty sure he should have been bounced from the conversation a while back.) So when Parker said, “What about you?” he had to look up to see who Parker was talking about.
Jan shrugged. “Not everything’s about you. Flash helped me out, I wanted to say thank you.”
So much for being unnoticed.
Gwen jumped in before he could say anything. “You said something about computer pingbacks, the other day. What did you mean?”
Bad to worse. Now everyone was looking at him expectantly, instead of just questioningly. “Well,” he said. “It’s an instincts thing, right? To create a space where you can track your physical surroundings.” He didn’t say web, because Parker looked like violence was still an option. Barnes nodded, though, so he kept going. “But it’s got to be bigger. More like a satellite network. Not that big, but city-wide, or something. And use, like, vibrations or something.”
He didn’t think he’d managed to get the idea out in any kind of coherent way, but Gwen grabbed a piece of paper and started drawing. “No, that makes sense,” she said. “Like this.” Even Parker had switched to looking intrigued, and everybody leaned in to look at the page, and it felt like maybe he’d done something right after all.
*****
5. It wasn’t like he was keeping a list of the Avengers he’d met; that would be weird. (He maybe had an idea, but that was just basic observation. And goal-setting was important, right? So, he had a goal to meet all of the Avengers; nothing wrong with that.)
Getting kidnapped by an Avengers villain and locked in a small room while they monologued? Definitely wasn’t on the list (if there was a list, which there wasn’t).
“I like to think I’m more of an honorary team member at this point,” Loki said. “Spiderman should thank me. This is a rite of passage for baby heroes — rescuing your friends from the clutches of villainy? It’s a classic.” And then he swept out of the room in an actual swirl of glitter. The door clicked ominously shut behind him.
Gwen was up in a second anyway, pushing experimentally on all sides of it, with no luck. The room was empty except for them. It wasn’t exactly a big room, and Flash reminded himself that he was definitely not claustrophobic.
Gwen gave up on the door and sat down next to him. “This isn’t how I was planning to spend my weekend.”
And really, what could he say to that? Me neither? This isn't that bad, all things considered? If we're still alive now, the probability that we'll get out of this with only minor injuries is actually pretty high?
He was saved from having to say anything by Loki shimmering back into view in the center of the room. "Special delivery. Wouldn't want you two getting restless." He waved a hand and disappeared again, and where he'd stood there were two bottles of water, a deck of cards, and a clock. It was counting down, in large red numbers.
"Forty-seven minutes till what?" Flash glanced at Gwen, but she looked as confused as he felt.
“A bomb?” she guessed.
“That’s really —“ ‘Cliched,’ he was about to say, and then he remembered the cape. And the glitter. “Yeah, maybe.”
But the timer itself didn’t seem to be a bomb (according to Gwen), and there wasn’t much you could do with water, cards, and a countdown. There were no windows, no furniture, and their pockets were empty. Movies made it seem like it was no big thing to just rip apart standard electronics and build a phone, or a sonic screwdriver or something, but it wasn’t like there’d been a class on that in school.
So they played cards. (Go Fish, and then a cross between Crazy 8s and Spit that Gwen said one of her brothers had come up with.) And when the countdown dropped under ten minutes, Flash said, “I’m glad you’re here.”
Gwen stared at him.
“No, that came out wrong,” he said. “I’m not glad you’re here, I’m just —“ He should have just kept his mouth shut, but he tried again anyway. “I think Parker will try harder to rescue you than me, that’s all. So it’s reassuring, or whatever. That you’re here.”
“Flash, Peter would work just as hard to save anyone. Besides, you’re his friend too.”
It was his turn to stare. “Parker? We are not friends.”
Gwen said, “I’m pretty sure you are.” She held up a hand and started ticking points off on her fingers. “He talks to you, he uses your name, he listens to your ideas. Name one other person other than me that those things are true for.”
He couldn’t think of anyone. His aunt, maybe? Parental figures didn’t really fit the spirit of the question, though. “See?” Gwen said.
He was saved from answering when the door banged open. Parker (Spiderman, fine) leapt backwards into the room and wound up on the ceiling above them. “Everyone alright?” he asked.
“We’re fine,” Gwen told him. “You?”
Flash checked the timer. Just under four minutes. “Uh, guys? Countdown? Possible bomb?”
“It’s not a bomb,” Spiderman said. “Um. Sorry? We do need to move, though. Left out the door, then straight all the way to the stairs.”
It seemed weird to be given instructions until they actually got outside the door, and the hallway looked like it was swaying. “Whoa,” he said, grabbing for the back of Gwen’s jacket.
“It’s an illusion,” Spiderman said. “It actually makes more sense upside down.”
Which probably explained why he was still on the ceiling. Flash kept his eyes on Gwen, because he wasn’t claustrophobic but motion sickness was an entirely different story. (She seemed to be keeping both eyes on Parker, no surprise there.)
After the staircase, there were two more hallways, a rope ladder, and what appeared to be a topiary maze. Privately, he thought Loki was either nuts or had a great sense of humor. He didn’t realize they were still on the clock until Parker said, “Thirty seconds,” and a set of double doors appeared in front of them. (Literally, appeared, in a space that had been topiary a minute ago.)
The doors swung open on their own. Loki stood on the other side. Backed by the Avengers.
Flash ran into Gwen when she stopped without him noticing. “Someone explain what’s going on,” she said.
“Parole,” one of them said, right over top of someone else saying, “Training.” Okay.
Bruce Banner (!) took a step towards them and gave a sort of apologetic-looking smile. “Loki helps us out sometimes, with training runs. Obstacle courses, teamwork, that sort of thing,” he said. “He is supposed to explain it to all participants ahead of time, however.”
Loki’s smile wasn’t in any way apologetic-looking. “Whoops.”
Gwen didn’t seem convinced. “What about the timer?”
“Spidey here said he could beat the record.”
“Which we did, by the way,” Parker said quickly.
“Only because your hostages didn’t mouth off the whole time!”
It descended into a debate surprisingly quickly, and Flash edged away from the group (carefully) to avoid flailing arms and potentially projectile weapons. Gwen — and Dr. Banner — followed. “Usually we draw straws for who gets to play hostage,” Dr. Banner said. “Certain team members tend to be a little… less cooperative. Theoretically, the idea is that if we can handle rescuing each other, everything else should be easy. I’m Bruce,” he added, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you both.”
“Mostly it’s just fun, though,” Jan added, popping up next to them. “Hank, T’Challa, get over here!” she called. “Meet and greet time!”
She winked at him, and being able to pull off winking should be considered a superpower all on its own. “Thor’s not here, or you’d be twelve for twelve. Not that there’s a list, or anything.”
(He had, maybe, shared his goal with Jan when she’d been tiny. Turned out you didn’t forget the things you heard while you had amnesia even when you didn’t have it anymore.) “Thirteen,” he said. “The internet says there’s an AI?”
“Oh, he is going to love you.”
*****
+1. “JARVIS? How’s it going?” (It seemed unfair that he wasn’t getting to see his idea put into action, but there wasn’t anything to actually see, and it was easier all around if he wasn’t there.) Gwen wasn’t there either, and he still wasn’t sure whether that made him feel better or worse about the whole thing.
JARVIS’ voice came through his phone, calm as ever. “All devices are in place and transmitting at the designated frequencies. Just as they were fifteen minutes ago.”
In other words, everything was fine, and he should stop calling.
“Right, so how’s it going?” JARVIS knew he wasn’t really asking about the devices. (Flash was convinced JARVIS had a not-so-secret goal of getting people to talk about their feelings.) “How’s Peter?”
They’d spent the past week setting up transmitters in diners all over the city. (The first try involved cabs, and Peter Parker’s Day Of Incredible Distraction was the funniest thing he’d seen in a long time. Not exactly the goal, though.) In theory, the transmitters would act like a web substitute, providing background awareness of the surrounding area. In theory, they would absolutely not cause EM disruptions, get picked up by police scanners, or create problems for the local wildlife. In theory, humans didn’t get bitten by spiders and develop superpowers. Theory was a work in progress.
“Mr. Parker has requested that we cease monitoring within his residence.”
Sure he had. Which didn’t mean monitoring had actually stopped. “You know I’m just going to call him next, right?”
There was a short pause. Then — “That would seem to be a reasonable course of action.”
Flash grinned, even though (probably?) JARVIS couldn’t see it. “Thanks, JARVIS.” He’d been at work all evening without any chance to get updates. And now that he could reasonably assume Peter wasn’t asleep, he didn’t even have to feel bad about waking him up.
Peter picked up halfway through the first ring. “Flash! Hi!”
That was considerably more enthusiasm than he’d been expecting. “Peter?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Well, my aunt possibly thinks I’m on drugs? But I’m not. This is amazing.”
“It’s working, then?”
“I can feel everything. Um. But not in a creepy way.”
“I don’t know, Parker, if this is one of those conversations where we talk about your emotional well-being…”
“Ha ha. Very funny. Seriously, I figured I’d either get used to it or go crazy, but this — this is better. So, you know. Thanks.”
“It was mostly Gwen,” Flash said automatically. It was probably not good that ‘get used to it’ and ‘go crazy’ had both come up as options before ‘ask for help.’ Then again, that’s what Gwen was there for. And the Avengers. And maybe him?
“It was you too, Flash,” Peter said, echoing his thoughts. “I mean it. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You know, we should probably do more field testing. You, me, Gwen. This weekend?”
“Sounds good. Hey, did you finish the History take-home?”
Flash sorted through his bag for the assignment, and he thought that maybe it was a good thing, being part of a list like that.
Author: marcicat
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5900
Author’s Note: Inspired by The Amazing Spiderman (movie) and, of course, the Avengers (movie), though I couldn’t resist adding in the ‘Phil Coulson as Peter Parker’s high school principal’ concept from the 2012 Spiderman animated series.
1. The first person to see the new principal was Flash Thompson. Well, “see” might be the wrong word. He had a standing appointment with the guidance office every Monday morning. (He mostly stared at the floor; she mostly said things like, ‘Don’t do anything stupid this week, and you may just make it to graduation.’ Sometimes he got coffee.) It wasn’t clear whether a giant lizard ripping through the halls was grounds for skipping, but what the hell, it wasn’t like he had anywhere better to be.
But yeah, either way, he was pretty sure they weren’t expecting him when he showed up forty-five minutes before the bell and shouldered open the office door. The whole place was rearranged — more like stripped bare, really. No carpet, no filing cabinets, seriously creepy looking. He stopped just inside, propping the door open with his foot. He could still take off.
Until one of the inner doors opened, and a man stuck his head out. “Office hours start at 8, come back later.” Because first, that was bullshit; the office was required to be open any time students were in the school. And second, that guy was Hawkeye. He wasn’t wearing his uniform or anything, but Flash watched enough online footage to be more sure than not. One of the Avengers was in his school. In the principal’s office.
“I have an appointment?” he offered.
That got him a second look. “Really? Shit. I mean, shoot.”
“With Ms. Raffertly?” He was trying to sound less like everything was a question, but he didn’t think it was working.
“Ms. Raffertly’s taken a leave of absence. We’re, uh, still working on filling her position.”
“Who is it?” called a second voice, from inside the office.
“Flash Thompson,” he said, not waiting for the question to be repeated.
“Your parents named you Flash?” (Which was rich, coming from a guy who went by “Hawkeye.”)
“No, my parents named me Eugene,” he said, letting his eyebrows convey the unspoken ‘wanna make something of it?’
He got a nod and a, “Wait here,” and then the door closed again. He didn’t bother trying to eavesdrop — not like he hadn’t been hearing variations on the same conversation his whole life.
Instead, he thought up a dozen potential undercover missions the Avengers might be working on at a high school. (The obvious answer was Spiderman, but he had to pass the time somehow, and sitting outside the principal's office was not the place to get busted texting.) Finally, the door reopened.
"Come with me."
The guidance office was only a few steps away, and then they were sitting, and for once Flash didn't feel like he was the most uncomfortable one in the room. "Can I call you Hawkeye?" he asked finally.
"No."
He shrugged, and there was a moment of awkward silence. "Call me Clint. Or Mr. Barton, if you have to. How do these meetings usually work?"
"You're supposed to tell me to stay in school, don't do drugs, don't fight on school property -- you know. That stuff."
"Sounds like you've got it down to me. You passing everything?"
He shrugged again. "I was last week."
“Good enough for me. Is that it?”
Flash hesitated, and he guessed that was enough to look suspicious, because he was suddenly getting the ‘don’t test my patience, I’m an Avenger’ look instead of the casual ‘I’m pretending to be a normal guy, call me Clint’ look. “I haven’t done my community service hours,” he admitted. “Ms. Raffertly usually brings that up.”
“Community service? You do something wrong?”
Frequently, but this time it wasn’t on him. “It’s a school requirement. Fifty hours to graduate. They didn’t have that when you went to school?”
“Me and high school never really saw eye to eye.”
“Yeah? What’d you do?”
More awkward silence, and then, “Joined the circus, actually. I don’t recommend it.”
And really, what did you say to something like that? Flash went with, “Okay,” because that seemed safe. When it looked like nothing else was going to get said, he added, “Am I set to go? I’ve got a first track.”
“Yeah, go for it.” He was waved out of the office, only to run into a giant wolf in the waiting area. He froze. The wolf stared at him.
Okay.
He could handle this. On a scale of one to rampaging lizard monster, this was probably still below locker searches or having his dad show up at school. He edged towards the chairs. The wolf kept staring, but didn’t switch over to growling or anything. Maybe it was just a large, wolf-like dog, sitting in the office for a perfectly legitimate and non-threatening reason.
Or possibly it was a trojan robot wolf sent to kill the unsuspecting superhero currently masquerading as the school’s new guidance counselor. Dammit. “Hi there,” he said quietly, carefully, trying to sound calm and totally not like prey.
The wolf didn’t move, but the principal’s door opened again, and a woman stepped out. “Oh, hey,” she said. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was here.” She gave the wolf an irritated look — it ignored her, and disappeared into the office. “I’m Darcy,” she continued. “Sorry for the hostile takeover vibe; a school gets attacked by one giant lizard and suddenly everyone wants a sabbatical. You would not believe the paperwork.”
She wasn’t going to mention the wolf. She also wasn’t an Avenger, or at least not one he recognized. “I forgot to get one of my forms signed,” he lied, and ducked back into the guidance office. He didn’t bother knocking, and took a paper airplane in the chest. Hawkeye - slash - Mr. Barton looked surprised to see him.
“There’s a wolf and someone who said her name is Darcy in the main office,” he said quickly, before he got yelled at. “Is that okay?”
He couldn’t figure out the look he got that time. Eventually, he also got a, “Yeah, they’re good,” and that was fine with him, whatever. There was no one there when he headed back out, and he didn’t wait around.
*****
2. Getting called to the front office was generally considered a Bad Thing. He couldn’t even think of anything he’d been caught at recently, which might mean it was nothing. (It was hardly ever nothing.)
On the other hand, on the list of “not nothing,” an office full of Iron Man and Captain America wasn’t in the top ten. Reality was as surprising as ever, and Flash tried hard not to look a) guilty or b) suspicious.
“Oh good, you’re here.” Captain America shut the door carefully behind him.
Iron Man turned around, and there was a tiny — something — on the desk. “We have to go do a thing,” he said. “Hawkeye volunteered you to babysit.”
Flash stared. “What?”
“Jan got hit by an amnesia ray while she was tiny.” Iron Man gestured at the desk. The tiny thing was a tiny person? “We’re working on it. She’s kind of hard to keep track of right now, so — babysitter. It’s fine, she’s cool with it.”
“You must have a base.”
“Too far away,” Captain America said. “This is the closest secure option at the moment.”
His high school was a secure location. Right. That, actually, he could believe. The rest of it? “Where’s Principal Coulson?” he asked.
“PT appointment. He’ll be back in an hour. Until then, congratulations, your security clearance just got upgraded.” Iron Man clapped him on the shoulder, and then he and Captain America went out the window (seriously, how was this his day?). He hadn’t even known he had a security clearance.
Flash sat down at the desk, resting his head on his hands so he could be at eye level with Jan — Wasp, judging by her costume. He was pretty sure her identity was supposed to be secret. “Hi,” he said, waving a finger in her direction.
She put her hands on her hips. “I have amnesia,” she said, and it was weird that he could hear her voice fine. Maybe the costume compensated for size changes. That would be both cool and practical.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry about that.”
“Did you shoot me?”
“What? No, of course not. Do I look like I have an amnesia gun on me?”
She studied him with her head tipped to the side. “I guess not? I have amnesia, though. Maybe I forgot what supervillains look like.”
She was messing with him. “I promise I’m not a supervillain,” he said solemnly, holding up his hand in the Vulcan salute.
They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then she crossed her arms and said, “Okay, I’m bored now. Seriously, do I have any good powers? Being tiny is super not useful.”
“You can fly?” Flash offered. “That’s useful. And you do an — energy thing. You know, ‘pew pew pew’?” He wiggled his fingers, and Jan looked at her own hands with interest.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
She looked like she was thinking about trying it, which maybe wasn’t the best idea, and then the phone rang, and he picked it up automatically. Which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the best idea either. He stared at it for a few seconds of panic, till hanging up would be worse than whatever he could say. “Midtown High,” he managed to get out. “Can I help you?” Jan gave him a thumbs up and hit the speaker button.
“Flash?”
“Parker?” he answered. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“I have a free track.”
It was a terrible excuse. Did that actually work on anyone? “No you don’t.”
“Fine, I’m cutting. Is Principal Coulson there? I really need to talk to him.”
“He’ll be back in an hour.”
There was a sigh from the other end of the line, like Flash was deliberately being difficult. He rolled his eyes. Finally, they heard, “So, this is — the thing is —" Much fainter, someone yelled, “Incoming!” It was entirely possible there were some explosions.
“Never mind,” Parker said. The line went dead.
“Well, that was rude,” Jan said. “Who was that guy?”
“Peter Parker. He goes here.”
“He’s cutting class and trying to call the principal? Pretty suspicious. Is he on the team? Please tell me he’s not one of our kids or something.” She smacked her forehead. “Oh crap, now I’m going to feel awful if he is.”
Flash stared at her. “I — no. I’m pretty sure he’s not.” He had his own suspicions about Parker and masked hero-ing, but he wasn’t about to start sharing them. “He lives with his aunt.”
Jan groaned. “I really hope I’m not this awkward when I don’t have amnesia. Can we blame amnesia for this?”
“Sure.” Figuring he could always claim a little amnesia himself, he offered, “Want to see if we can find out what’s going on out there?” He pointed at the computer to make it clear he wasn’t actually offering to sneak her back into a potential supervillain battle with only a slim chance that she’d recognize the people who were on her side.
“You can do that?” Jan asked.
“It’s New York. Someone’s always got a camera and an opinion.” And a lot of those someones were specifically watching for Avengers.
(Which was how they ended up getting caught by Principal Coulson on a meme site, with Jan in stitches laughing at VegVengers. Really, you’d think anyone would be able to see the humor in the Avengers being re-imagined as the healthiest of the food groups, but apparently not. Jan offered him a tiny fist bump of solidarity, at least, which he thought was nice of her.)
“You’re free to go,” Principal Coulson said, nodding at Flash before focusing his attention on Jan. “Banner has the amnesia reversal worked out; he’ll be here as soon as they’re done.”
It felt ridiculous, but he waited for an excused tardy slip, and then another piece of paper was handed over with it. “What’s this?” he said.
There was almost a smile on the principal’s face, and he couldn’t decide if it was friendly or threatening. “Consider this your first hour of community service.”
*****
3. The Avengers became a presence in the school, and no one believed their line about highlighting the importance of education. (Student opinion loudly proclaimed that baby lizards with laser guns were going to burst out of the sewers at any moment, but no one really believed that either. They all stayed away from the ground floor bathrooms anyway.)
Flash figured there were two options: they were there on Spider-watch, or they were there for Gwen. Gwen was his first guess, actually. She was crazy smart, she’d worked directly for Dr. Connors, and her dad died in the attack. He’d never turn her in, or anything, but if they were waiting for a breakout villain, she was probably the logical choice.
Gwen didn’t seem focused on villainy, though, and most of the Avengers didn’t seem interested in the students at all, so it was hard to say. They came in ones and twos, every few days, into the office and out again. Hawkeye (it was way too weird to think of him as Mr. Barton) was the exception — unofficially or officially, he was still inhabiting the guidance office full time.
(Flash spent a lot of time in the cafeteria across the hall, because ‘might get to see the Avengers pretending to be civilians’ combined with ‘can get food’ and ‘not at home’ to make a damn good incentive.) He had the place to himself before first track, mostly.
Until one morning when the Black Widow marched in propelling Gwen by the elbow. “Sit,” she said, pointing to the seat across from him. Gwen sat. “You still need community service hours?”
That seemed to be directed at him, so he nodded. “Good,” she said. “Consider this a service to your community. Stay here, don’t get into trouble. Watch her.”
She left as quickly as she’d entered, one hand to her earpiece, and he narrowed his eyes at Gwen. “What did you do?”
“What? I didn’t do anything!” Gwen’s expression looked like she was trying for innocent, but falling short somewhere around shifty excitement.
“Did you blow something up?” he asked.
“Of course not. Are we really just going to stay here?”
“Yeah,” he said. “We are.” He was pretty sure she was going to protest, so he added, “Look, I get that — some people, that you may know, have zero ability to ask for help. So the whole foisting it upon them — it works for you, which is great, really. But I think the Avengers have plenty of backup without us, you know?” (He hoped that she got that he was talking about Parker, not himself, or anything. When he needed help, he asked for it. See exhibit A: tutoring.)
There were a few seconds where Gwen just looked back and forth between him and the door. He ate more cereal. Then she said, “Wait, that was one of the Avengers?”
Had she really not noticed? “She’s here practically every day,” Flash said.
The cafeteria doors swung open again, and Parker slouched in. He threw himself down next to Gwen and dropped his head down on his arms. “I’m so benched,” he mumbled. Then he looked up, like the world’s slowest double-take. “Oh. Hey Flash.”
“Parker. Do you ever sleep?” he asked. He looked terrible. Things had been weird between them ever since Flash stopped punching him and figured out the whole — well, it wasn’t that hard to see, was it? Not if you were really looking. Besides, Ms. Raffertly had threatened pamphlets and no more coffee if he didn’t cut it out. (He missed her. On the other hand, he’d finally started on his community service hours, so that was something.)
“I took a nap, yesterday. In history,” Parker said slowly. “There was a movie.”
Gwen made a sympathetic sound. “You need to sleep, Peter.”
Flash tapped his fingers on the table as a thought occurred to him. “Do you need to sleep? Is that, like, a thing?” Parker and Gwen both stared at him.
“Come on, I’m not stupid,” he told them. “And I’m not going to tell anyone, jesus, stop looking at me like that.” There was an awkward silence, so he added, “I didn’t think you thought you were hiding it. Seriously, the Avengers have a daily check-in.”
More staring, and finally Parker said, “They’re here for Coulson, actually. He’s recovering from some injury; he’s the team liaison, I think. That’s what Jan called him. Darcy says he’s part of the family.”
Huh. That was unexpected, actually. Coulson? His fingers itched to get online and go back through the photo posts. Too bad he’d only gotten to talk to Jan while she had amnesia. And apparently Darcy was involved, which meant the wolf… “What’s with the wolf?” he asked.
“Who?”
“There was a wolf,” Flash said. “In the office one day. You haven’t met it?”
Parker just shook his head.
“Maybe you need a web,” Gwen said. “You know, to sleep, because you look kind of…”
“Strung out?” Flash offered, only half joking. (He could always play ID the Avenger later. He wondered how tacky it would be to ask Parker to get autographs for him.)
Gwen gave him an irritated look, and he shrugged. Whatever, it was true. “I wasn’t going to say that,” she said.
Parker shook his head. “I don’t need — that’s crazy.“
“Right. That’s what’s crazy.”
It kind of made sense, actually. “Maybe you need to —“ He spread his fingers out wide along the table. “— big picture it. You know? Like computer pingbacks, or something.”
All that got him was both Parker and Gwen looking at him like he was nuts. Naturally, that was when the door burst open. (Literally, exploded into a million pieces kind of bursting open. Not as cool looking as he would have thought.) And then someone yelled, “Clear!” from the hallway, and the Black Widow stuck her head in. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding at all apologetic. “Got him.”
“‘Got him?’” someone echoed. “That was all me.”
A third voice joined in. “Shut it Stark. Repulsor blasts don’t do that. It was my shot that took it down.”
“Blew it up, maybe. Not exactly useful, if you ask me.”
“Funny, I didn’t hear anyone asking you.”
“I was volunteering; it’s a teamwork thing. Ask Hulk.”
“Please. Everyone knows you’re his favorite.”
“Are they like this all the time?” Gwen said, looking at the remains of the doors with a dubious expression.
Parker just groaned, and put his head back down on the table.
*****
4. Flash didn’t see the wolf again until Gwen moved all her tutoring to the public library. She was avoiding being at home, he figured, and guaranteeing an excuse to run into Parker. (Sure enough, he was there too. Looked like he was doing some quality studying of the ceiling tiles, but there were books around him, so maybe he was finally doing that essay for english.)
Gwen set them up next to the kids section, because silence made him fidget. Plus, the kids were doing that read to dogs program, which was a great distraction. And one of the dogs? Totally the wolf from the office. It dwarfed even the retrievers, but lay quietly on the floor with kids draped all over it while they read.
Parker ignored it completely, and Flash wondered if he even knew the Avengers had sicced their wolf on him.
He got his chance to ask when Gwen left him alone with a problem set. Jan slid into the seat across from him. “Hi,” she said. “Fancy meeting you here.”
He looked deliberately from her to Parker to the wolf and back. “Sure,” he said.
“Okay, so it’s not entirely a coincidence,” Jan offered.
Flash circled the answer to number four carefully. “How’s Mr. Coulson doing?” (He’d found pictures, eventually. The guy wasn’t just a suit and tie. Even if he never did seem to set foot outside his office.)
“Better. Thanks for asking.” Jan didn’t looked surprised by the question. “And, you know, thanks for watching me when I had amnesia.” She held out her hand for a fist bump, which was actually a lot easier when she was person-sized and not tiny.
“So,” he said, when it looked like she might have actually just been coming over to say hi, and was about to leave again. It wasn’t the best opening. He could just leave it alone. Gwen and Parker were handling it.
(But maybe they couldn’t, and the best the Avengers had mustered up for a high school guidance counselor stand-in was Hawkeye, so he wasn’t sure how much they were paying attention either.)
Jan sat back down.
He weighed out what he wanted to say, whose secrets he was going to knock out into the open and how they might react. “The wolf,” he started. “He?”
Jan nodded warily. “He’s a he,” she confirmed.
“He’s not always a wolf, though?” He held up his hands quickly when that got him a tense sort of glare. “Not prying! I just thought, he might be able to offer some pointers. To Spiderman. About instincts.” Flash got out the last few fragments and kept his eyes carefully on his hands.
From across the table, he heard a sigh. “Please, please tell me Spiderman doesn’t transform into a spider, giant or otherwise.”
He looked up. “Would that be a deal breaker?”
That time she did look surprised. “No, of course not. We might need to rearrange some furniture, but no. You mean he really does?”
“Not that I know of, no.”
“Well, that’s something, at least.”
“I’m serious,” Flash said. “You’ve seen him move, seen him fight — it’s not a mask or a suit of armor for him. He feels like that all the time.” There was really no way to say ‘some of those internet conspiracy theories about pre-existing spider DNA are both uncanny and surprisingly plausible, and maybe someone should be looking into that?’ without sounding way over-invested, so he just raised his eyebrows and hoped she got it.
Jan sighed again. “Yeah, I hear you.” Behind her, the reading group was finishing up. “Hang on,” she said. “Back in a minute.”
Flash went back to the problem set. He didn’t, actually, expect her to come back. Gwen would check his work, explain what the hell was going on with number fifteen, and he’d leave.
Except she did. “Hey,” Jan said.
She wasn’t alone — there was a guy with her. It took a second, and Flash felt his eyes go wide when it hit him. “Holy shit, you’re Bucky Barnes.”
The guy (Bucky Barnes!) smiled, like having high school kids recognize him in a library was a highlight of his day. “That’s what they tell me,” he said. “Nice to meet you.” Flash nodded automatically, but his mind was stuck on the whole ‘five minutes ago there was Jan, and there was a wolf, and now there’s Jan, and Bucky Barnes.’ That was not in the publicity packet.
“You too,” he finally managed.
“Spiderman?” Jan prompted.
“Honestly, if you guys are going to talk about me, you might as well invite me over.” Parker looked nervous despite the words, but he sat down when Gwen tapped the chair next to hers. “Also, a public library? Not exactly a secure location.”
“I like books,” Barnes said.
Jan rolled her eyes. “It’s secure. Secure-ish. Besides, you won’t come to the Tower.”
Barnes added, “It’s pretty much down to me or Loki at this point if you’re trying to avoid everyone who wants to study you or smother you.”
(Flash was pretending not to listen, hoping no one would notice he was still there. As the only non-hero, non-friend of Parker, he was pretty sure he should have been bounced from the conversation a while back.) So when Parker said, “What about you?” he had to look up to see who Parker was talking about.
Jan shrugged. “Not everything’s about you. Flash helped me out, I wanted to say thank you.”
So much for being unnoticed.
Gwen jumped in before he could say anything. “You said something about computer pingbacks, the other day. What did you mean?”
Bad to worse. Now everyone was looking at him expectantly, instead of just questioningly. “Well,” he said. “It’s an instincts thing, right? To create a space where you can track your physical surroundings.” He didn’t say web, because Parker looked like violence was still an option. Barnes nodded, though, so he kept going. “But it’s got to be bigger. More like a satellite network. Not that big, but city-wide, or something. And use, like, vibrations or something.”
He didn’t think he’d managed to get the idea out in any kind of coherent way, but Gwen grabbed a piece of paper and started drawing. “No, that makes sense,” she said. “Like this.” Even Parker had switched to looking intrigued, and everybody leaned in to look at the page, and it felt like maybe he’d done something right after all.
*****
5. It wasn’t like he was keeping a list of the Avengers he’d met; that would be weird. (He maybe had an idea, but that was just basic observation. And goal-setting was important, right? So, he had a goal to meet all of the Avengers; nothing wrong with that.)
Getting kidnapped by an Avengers villain and locked in a small room while they monologued? Definitely wasn’t on the list (if there was a list, which there wasn’t).
“I like to think I’m more of an honorary team member at this point,” Loki said. “Spiderman should thank me. This is a rite of passage for baby heroes — rescuing your friends from the clutches of villainy? It’s a classic.” And then he swept out of the room in an actual swirl of glitter. The door clicked ominously shut behind him.
Gwen was up in a second anyway, pushing experimentally on all sides of it, with no luck. The room was empty except for them. It wasn’t exactly a big room, and Flash reminded himself that he was definitely not claustrophobic.
Gwen gave up on the door and sat down next to him. “This isn’t how I was planning to spend my weekend.”
And really, what could he say to that? Me neither? This isn't that bad, all things considered? If we're still alive now, the probability that we'll get out of this with only minor injuries is actually pretty high?
He was saved from having to say anything by Loki shimmering back into view in the center of the room. "Special delivery. Wouldn't want you two getting restless." He waved a hand and disappeared again, and where he'd stood there were two bottles of water, a deck of cards, and a clock. It was counting down, in large red numbers.
"Forty-seven minutes till what?" Flash glanced at Gwen, but she looked as confused as he felt.
“A bomb?” she guessed.
“That’s really —“ ‘Cliched,’ he was about to say, and then he remembered the cape. And the glitter. “Yeah, maybe.”
But the timer itself didn’t seem to be a bomb (according to Gwen), and there wasn’t much you could do with water, cards, and a countdown. There were no windows, no furniture, and their pockets were empty. Movies made it seem like it was no big thing to just rip apart standard electronics and build a phone, or a sonic screwdriver or something, but it wasn’t like there’d been a class on that in school.
So they played cards. (Go Fish, and then a cross between Crazy 8s and Spit that Gwen said one of her brothers had come up with.) And when the countdown dropped under ten minutes, Flash said, “I’m glad you’re here.”
Gwen stared at him.
“No, that came out wrong,” he said. “I’m not glad you’re here, I’m just —“ He should have just kept his mouth shut, but he tried again anyway. “I think Parker will try harder to rescue you than me, that’s all. So it’s reassuring, or whatever. That you’re here.”
“Flash, Peter would work just as hard to save anyone. Besides, you’re his friend too.”
It was his turn to stare. “Parker? We are not friends.”
Gwen said, “I’m pretty sure you are.” She held up a hand and started ticking points off on her fingers. “He talks to you, he uses your name, he listens to your ideas. Name one other person other than me that those things are true for.”
He couldn’t think of anyone. His aunt, maybe? Parental figures didn’t really fit the spirit of the question, though. “See?” Gwen said.
He was saved from answering when the door banged open. Parker (Spiderman, fine) leapt backwards into the room and wound up on the ceiling above them. “Everyone alright?” he asked.
“We’re fine,” Gwen told him. “You?”
Flash checked the timer. Just under four minutes. “Uh, guys? Countdown? Possible bomb?”
“It’s not a bomb,” Spiderman said. “Um. Sorry? We do need to move, though. Left out the door, then straight all the way to the stairs.”
It seemed weird to be given instructions until they actually got outside the door, and the hallway looked like it was swaying. “Whoa,” he said, grabbing for the back of Gwen’s jacket.
“It’s an illusion,” Spiderman said. “It actually makes more sense upside down.”
Which probably explained why he was still on the ceiling. Flash kept his eyes on Gwen, because he wasn’t claustrophobic but motion sickness was an entirely different story. (She seemed to be keeping both eyes on Parker, no surprise there.)
After the staircase, there were two more hallways, a rope ladder, and what appeared to be a topiary maze. Privately, he thought Loki was either nuts or had a great sense of humor. He didn’t realize they were still on the clock until Parker said, “Thirty seconds,” and a set of double doors appeared in front of them. (Literally, appeared, in a space that had been topiary a minute ago.)
The doors swung open on their own. Loki stood on the other side. Backed by the Avengers.
Flash ran into Gwen when she stopped without him noticing. “Someone explain what’s going on,” she said.
“Parole,” one of them said, right over top of someone else saying, “Training.” Okay.
Bruce Banner (!) took a step towards them and gave a sort of apologetic-looking smile. “Loki helps us out sometimes, with training runs. Obstacle courses, teamwork, that sort of thing,” he said. “He is supposed to explain it to all participants ahead of time, however.”
Loki’s smile wasn’t in any way apologetic-looking. “Whoops.”
Gwen didn’t seem convinced. “What about the timer?”
“Spidey here said he could beat the record.”
“Which we did, by the way,” Parker said quickly.
“Only because your hostages didn’t mouth off the whole time!”
It descended into a debate surprisingly quickly, and Flash edged away from the group (carefully) to avoid flailing arms and potentially projectile weapons. Gwen — and Dr. Banner — followed. “Usually we draw straws for who gets to play hostage,” Dr. Banner said. “Certain team members tend to be a little… less cooperative. Theoretically, the idea is that if we can handle rescuing each other, everything else should be easy. I’m Bruce,” he added, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you both.”
“Mostly it’s just fun, though,” Jan added, popping up next to them. “Hank, T’Challa, get over here!” she called. “Meet and greet time!”
She winked at him, and being able to pull off winking should be considered a superpower all on its own. “Thor’s not here, or you’d be twelve for twelve. Not that there’s a list, or anything.”
(He had, maybe, shared his goal with Jan when she’d been tiny. Turned out you didn’t forget the things you heard while you had amnesia even when you didn’t have it anymore.) “Thirteen,” he said. “The internet says there’s an AI?”
“Oh, he is going to love you.”
*****
+1. “JARVIS? How’s it going?” (It seemed unfair that he wasn’t getting to see his idea put into action, but there wasn’t anything to actually see, and it was easier all around if he wasn’t there.) Gwen wasn’t there either, and he still wasn’t sure whether that made him feel better or worse about the whole thing.
JARVIS’ voice came through his phone, calm as ever. “All devices are in place and transmitting at the designated frequencies. Just as they were fifteen minutes ago.”
In other words, everything was fine, and he should stop calling.
“Right, so how’s it going?” JARVIS knew he wasn’t really asking about the devices. (Flash was convinced JARVIS had a not-so-secret goal of getting people to talk about their feelings.) “How’s Peter?”
They’d spent the past week setting up transmitters in diners all over the city. (The first try involved cabs, and Peter Parker’s Day Of Incredible Distraction was the funniest thing he’d seen in a long time. Not exactly the goal, though.) In theory, the transmitters would act like a web substitute, providing background awareness of the surrounding area. In theory, they would absolutely not cause EM disruptions, get picked up by police scanners, or create problems for the local wildlife. In theory, humans didn’t get bitten by spiders and develop superpowers. Theory was a work in progress.
“Mr. Parker has requested that we cease monitoring within his residence.”
Sure he had. Which didn’t mean monitoring had actually stopped. “You know I’m just going to call him next, right?”
There was a short pause. Then — “That would seem to be a reasonable course of action.”
Flash grinned, even though (probably?) JARVIS couldn’t see it. “Thanks, JARVIS.” He’d been at work all evening without any chance to get updates. And now that he could reasonably assume Peter wasn’t asleep, he didn’t even have to feel bad about waking him up.
Peter picked up halfway through the first ring. “Flash! Hi!”
That was considerably more enthusiasm than he’d been expecting. “Peter?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Well, my aunt possibly thinks I’m on drugs? But I’m not. This is amazing.”
“It’s working, then?”
“I can feel everything. Um. But not in a creepy way.”
“I don’t know, Parker, if this is one of those conversations where we talk about your emotional well-being…”
“Ha ha. Very funny. Seriously, I figured I’d either get used to it or go crazy, but this — this is better. So, you know. Thanks.”
“It was mostly Gwen,” Flash said automatically. It was probably not good that ‘get used to it’ and ‘go crazy’ had both come up as options before ‘ask for help.’ Then again, that’s what Gwen was there for. And the Avengers. And maybe him?
“It was you too, Flash,” Peter said, echoing his thoughts. “I mean it. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You know, we should probably do more field testing. You, me, Gwen. This weekend?”
“Sounds good. Hey, did you finish the History take-home?”
Flash sorted through his bag for the assignment, and he thought that maybe it was a good thing, being part of a list like that.
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