Work Text:
It happened in the middle of the period in US Gov, strangely enough.
The room was silent, save for the scratch of pencils and occasional skree of someone shifting on their chair. The notorious Mrs. Reese sat at the front of the room, grading papers ruthlessly as her students filled out worksheet packets. Hanson itched with the urge to whisper a question to Lily— she was sitting right in the next aisle, it was torture— but didn’t dare. Mrs. Reese would have his head.
Hanson glared at Question 9 and then back at the textbook. The book’s tightly-packed words were the equivalent of a flash grenade— every time he tried to look at them they effectively blinded him and he was left with mocking spots in his vision. He looked up to clear his head, and that was when he saw it. Or more accurately, that was when he saw him.
Peter Parker.
Peter was being fairly discreet— the notorious Mrs. Reese hadn’t noticed him, after all. The only reason Hanson noticed was because Peter just happened to be in his direct line of sight. And so, he could see Peter’s hands moving erratically even as his classmate stayed hunched over his worksheet packet. Was he… signing? Why?
Hanson glanced surreptitiously around the classroom, but everybody else was focused on their packets. The only other person who looked up at his movement was Lily, who locked devastated eyes with him from the aisle over. Hanson sent her a commiserating look before Lily went back to her packet with the dejected air of a prison inmate.
Hanson immediately returned his attention to Peter. For a moment there was no movement. Then Peter’s hands started to sign again.
Now, Hanson would guess he knew less than 0.01% of sign language, but the sign for “bullshit” was pretty well-known.
Who the fuck was Peter talking to?
Peter had noticed him in AP Biochemistry, but it wasn’t until US Gov that he got the chance to act.
Mrs. Reese had passed out a review packet for tomorrow’s test with her customary “Absolutely no talking”, before retreating to her desk to grade papers.
Peter only answered the first two questions before glancing up. Everyone else was absorbed in their review packets, and Mrs. Reese was frowning at one of the papers, occasionally marking it viciously with red pen.
Peter set down his pencil.
I know you’re there, Clint, he signed. It was hard to keep the movements small enough to go unnoticed, but fortunately nobody looked over at him. Probably because they were too smart to risk Mrs. Reese’s ire.
No response.
I can hear your heartbeat. Why are you in my school’s vents?
A second later Karen’s voice filtered out of his glasses on its lowest volume, directly into his ear. “Incoming text from Clint: i wanted to see how the school system works”
Bullshit, Peter signed back. Why are you actually here?
“Incoming text from Clint: i’m just really interested in education”
“Incoming text from Clint: Fascinating stuff”
Peter raised his eyebrows at his review packet, an expression he knew Clint wouldn’t be able to see from his position directly above him. Clearly, something was up— but Peter had no idea what it was. His spidey-sense hadn’t gone off at all during the day, so for now he would assume it was something harmless. A prank, maybe? Peter considered what he knew about Clint.
Probably a prank.
How do you even fit in the vents?
“Incoming text from Clint: i’m flexible”
“Incoming text from Clint: Also its surprisingly roomy in here”
O… k
“Incoming text from Clint: There’s a kid staring at you btw”
Peter’s head shot up and he inadvertently made eye contact with Hanson a few rows down. Hanson raised an eyebrow in an expression that clearly said “what the fuck are you doing?”
Peter was pretty sure he looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and immediately he jerked his head back down to his worksheet. At least Hansen didn’t know sign language.
…he was pretty sure. Did Hansen know sign language? Oh god, oh no— sign language wasn’t that commonly known, right?
Cautiously, Peter glanced back up.
Hansen was looking straight at him. His eyes were scrunched up in suspicion, and as he noticed Peter looking at him he raised his other eyebrow.
“Incoming text from Clint: hey did you know you’re blushing”
Peter died a little bit on the inside. Please shut up I’m freaking out right now.
Hansen’s eyes snapped down to his hands and Peter froze.
Slowly, Hansen looked back up at him.
Yep— nope. Peter picked his pencil back up and started scribbling down the answer to Question #3, trying very hard to ignore the warmth he was now aware was crawling up his neck.
US Gov passed very, very slowly.
The last bell of the day split straight through Mr. Paudel’s sentence on the importance of writing out problems on the homework before solving them, and half the class rushed straight for the doors.
Peter, however, took his time packing up his calculus notebook. If Clint was playing some sort of prank, then it would definitely be happening after school, not during, so as soon as Peter was out the doors he would be in the line of fire.
He burned five minutes with the slow trudge to his locker. Then another five with the slog to the doors. He eyed the handles distrustfully. With a sigh, he pushed them open.
Standing directly outside were Clint (who flashed him a shit-eating grin), Natasha, and Bucky, all in “disguise” with baseball caps and hoodies. Peter stopped dead.
Unfortunately, that was just in time for Flash to knock into him from behind.
Oh.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going, Penis!”
Shit.
Flash sniggered, and all three Avengers zeroed in on him like sharks scenting blood in the water.
“Run,” Peter breathed.
Flash looked back at him, barbed smile still on his face. “What?”
Peter panicked (he felt like he was doing that a lot today). “I mean—”
A hand fell on his shoulder.
“Hey, Peter!” said Clint, his voice way too bright.
Flash paled. Peter could feel Natasha and Bucky looming behind him.
“Who’s your friend?” he continued.
Flash squeaked. “I— you’re—”
He sounded like he was hyperventilating. Peter could relate.
“Yes,” said Bucky. “Introduce us to your… friend.”
It was like watching a car crash in slow motion.
“Hi, Mr., uh, Mr. Winter Soldier, uh, sir,” Flash stammered.
“Oh my god is that the Black Widow,” he whispered, probably thinking none of them could hear him.
Peter could definitely hear him.
“Hello, Flash,” Natasha said, and Flash’s jaw closed with a snap. “Here’s how this is going to work. You are going to leave Peter alone. You are not going to make any derogatory comments towards him. You are not going to lift a finger against him. If you ever do so again, and I will know, then you will be dealing with us.”
Flash went white as a sheet, and Peter grimaced. He would bet everything he owned that Bucky had just smiled his “I-killed-JFK-and-nobody-ever-found-out” smile.
“Yes ma’am,” Flash choked out.
“Leave,” said Bucky.
Flash spun around immediately, only to freeze at the sound of Clint’s voice.
“Don’t tell anyone we were here. You won’t like the consequences.” He paused. “Okay, you can go now.”
Flash ran. Well, he didn’t actually run, but Peter could tell he wanted to by how fast he was walking away.
Finally Peter let out the groan that had been building in his chest. “Oh my god, guys. Wasn’t that a little overkill?”
He turned around to Bucky’s smirking face. “Yep.”
Natasha’s expression was completely neutral, despite the pants-wetting threat she had just delivered, and Clint was frowning a little.
“Probably,” they both said at the same time.
“Little shit had it coming, though,” Clint added.
Peter regarded their unrepentant faces, a mixture of exasperation and fondness washing over him.
“...thanks,” he said. “I had it covered though.”
“It didn’t look like you ‘had it covered’ from where I was sitting,” Clint scoffed.
“Where you were sitting in my school’s vents, you mean?”
Clint grinned. “Yeah, exactly.”
“You guys are the worst.” Peter shook his head. “So was there another reason all three of you came to pick me up, or…?”
Natasha laughed. “Oh, no. We accomplished what we came to do.”
“But as long as we’re all here…” Bucky trailed off, a gleam entering his eyes.
Clint perked up. “Paintball?”
“Paintball.”
Peter groaned.