**Peter's family is out of town, and he needs help, so he has to call in the last resort. There's no preserving his identity now ;) Enjoy! Oh, also, this is a school setting with scary bad guys, and I know that's a sensitive topic.**

The hustle and bustle of school life were deafening to any normal person, making Peter's life hell within the halls of Midtown High. He hated the slamming of lockers, the shouting, the low conversations that blurred together to one huge crescendo of noise.

Ned could tell when Peter was getting overwhelmed from a mile away. It was in the way his mouth got drawn up in a tight line and how his eyes seemed to dart around the hall but never focused.

"You alright?"

Peter nodded, shoving headphones into his ears. It helped a lot to have something to block the noise, even if it was something as small as the Stark Headphones his dad had given him a few weeks ago.

"Have you studied for the chem test?" Ned asked in low tones.

Peter shrugged. He and Ned had been friends long enough to communicate in shrugs and facial expressions, which came in handy during times like these.

"I don't think it'll be too bad, I heard 4th period yesterday finished it early."

Peter nodded. "Sounds easy."

The two teens headed towards their next class, math. It was pretty advanced math, but the teacher was the oldest man on Earth and made the entire class dreadful. Peter dropped his bag on the floor by his desk, pulled out his notebook, and sat in his chair heavily.

"I hate this class," the teen mumbled. Ned laughed at that, pulling out his own chair and sitting down.

"At least you get things done, you're always working on blueprints and chemical stuff."

Peter hummed again. The bell rang obnoxiously, sending a piercing shock through the superhero's brain.

"Ugh."

There were a few minutes when nothing happened. No teacher. Other students started to whisper and fidget. Mr. Wood was never late.

Peter took out one of his headphones and tilted his head. He was listening. There was short, muffled footsteps in the hall. Not a student. Not a teacher. Ned was staring at Peter intently, trying to pick up on the expression. Peter listened for any sign of who or what was there.

Click.

Peter's eyes betrayed the sudden wave of fear he felt. However muffled and quiet it was, Peter could still hear the tell-tale sound of a gun being loaded. Ned's own eyes widened as he saw Peter's clear fear.

"It's a-"

Peter was cut off by the sound of static and jarring noise as the PA came on. "All students to the auditorium. All students to the auditorium."

Peter and Ned shared an uneasy look. That wasn't the principal.

No one had heard what Peter had heard, no one knew what was going on. They all started to get up and put their things back in their bags, chatting about the assembly.

"I bet Wood is doing some weird thing with the assembly and forgot to tell us," one kid said to his friends, the group erupting into giggles.

Peter didn't know what to do. "Guys, the person on the PA didn't sound like the principal."

Everyone looked over at Peter, some scoffing and turning away, others just rolling their eyes.

"Shut up, Parker, it was probably just another teacher," Flash shouted from across the room.

Peter and Ned both watched as their peers began to pour out into the halls, headed towards God knows what in the auditorium.

"Whatever happens," Peter started, turning to Ned. "I'm going to make sure everyone gets out okay."

Ned nodded, but their was fear in his eyes. He knew this was one of those times when Peter would sacrifice himself.

The two made their way to the auditorium, which was dark and musty. There weren't teachers waiting at the door like usual. No one else seemed to notice.

When the last door shut, and everyone was sitting, the lights on the stage came on, and the entire school was shocked to see a man with a gun holding the principal tightly.

"Hello, Midtown. A little birdie told us one of the students here is rather important. We want him."

Everyone shifted uncomfortably, looking between one another.

"He's someone special," the man said in a singsong voice, swaying slightly. "He's Tony Stark's son."

At that, whispers got louder, more intense, and more urgent. Someone at Midtown was related to Tony Stark?

Of course, Ned was holding Peter's arm tightly, keeping him in his seat. "Don't," the boy hissed. "You have no backup."

Peter knew he had one option. A last resort some might say. A friend he met while on patrol.

The spider pulled out his phone slowly and typed a text. 

Wanna come save my ass? I'll let you tease me about it.

Then, without waiting for a reply, Peter stood up.

The man holding the principal looked over at the boy, his eyes tracking his movements.

"You're the Stark kid?"

Peter shrugged. "I've seen worse candidates." His signature Spiderman sass slipped out, stunning peers and baddies alike.

"Shut up," the man on the stage said roughly.

"Has anyone ever taught you that "shut up" is on the naughty word list?"

The man raised his gun at the teen. "I don't think you know who I am."

"Were you in a movie or something?"

The sound of a gun going of was startling to people who weren't used to it, but Peter didn't even flinch, not even when the bullet lodged itself into the flesh of the teen's shoulder. Instead, he raised his eyebrow and looked down at his now bleeding shoulder.

"Well, now. That wasn't very nice at all."

The man recovered from his shock quickly, but the brief moment of confusion and fear wasn't missed by Peter. The entire school held their breath. Peter Parker just took a bullet to the shoulder without so much as flinching.

"Come here," the man said gruffly, pulling the teen by the bad arm onto the stage and tying him to the chair. Peter went along with it, knowing that if he fought back now, without any help, he'd be overpowered. He just had to wait.

The auditorium was silent and the man leaned down into Peter's face, stale breath making the teen wince back. "Tell me how to get into the Avengers Compound."

Peter furrowed his brow. "There's a door."

"A heavily guarded door," the man said back.

"Then I suggest you go through a less guarded door. Or, perhaps, consider not breaking into one of the most guarded and high tech facilities all together."

The man pressed the gun closer to Peter's side, cold metal pressing against soft, warm skin. "I suggest you stop being a smart ass and start cooperating."

"I suggest you take that gun and stick it-"

"DP, don't be crude," Peter interrupted.

There, standing in the back of the auditorium, was a red and black clad anti-hero. Deadpool.

"Hiya, Pete, what happened?"

Peter shrugged. "Its always my dad, isn't it?"

Deadpool laughed, then cocked his head to the side as his eyes fell on the wound in Peter's shoulder. "They hurt you?"

"Nothing I can't deal with," Peter assured. It did little to ease the other man's uneasiness, though, and he stalked to the stage slowly and methodically.

"Like the time on 7th and Washington?" Peter nodded, a fire in his eyes to match his friends.

Deadpool launched himself onto the stage, his swords moving rapidly. Peter broke the ropes on his wrist and webbed one of his friend's guns off of his belt.

"Hey," the mercenary whined.

"Gotta use something heavy." Peter turned just as more men began to swarm onto the stage. He shot a web at one man, tripping him and keeping him down on the ground. Spidersense flared, and he back flipped over another baddie, only to whip him with the butt of his gun.

Deadpool was taking a different approach, simply killing as many men as came at him. He kept his back to the teen, ensuring that they were always on opposite sides.

"Doing good?"

"A few hits," Deadpool shrugged. "I'll live."

Peter laughed at the inside joke, webbing one of the last men to the wall of the auditorium as Deadpool wiped down his katanas.

Peter took a breath. "Thanks for getting here so quick."

"Eh, I can't miss out of teasing you, now can I," the mercenary sassed.

Peter chuckled. "I knew that would get you. Can we not tell my dad about this one?"

Deadpool assured that he wouldn't, then held out his hand for the gun, which Peter returned gladly. He hated using those things, he hated the feeling of the metal in his hands, and he hates the little burst of power that surged through his arm when he pulled the trigger. Deadpool holstered the gun, then pulled off his mask and went to check on the teen's shoulder.

"It's fine," Peter said, pushing the man away. "I just need... to..." Peter stuck a couple fingers in the wound, feeling around and pulling out the bullet. "Get this. You want it?"

Deadpool shook his head. "Make a keychain out of it for Natasha's birthday, she'll love it."

Peter laughed again and wiped it down on his shirt while Wade went over to one of the men Peter had webbed up to look for an ID.

No one made a sound, until Flash suddenly spoke up. "How the hell do you know Deadpool and why do you have Spiderman's webshooters?"

Peter looked up, pocketing the bullet. "I met Deadpool on a patrol, and as far as the webshooters, I'm Spiderman."

Flash opened his mouth to argue, but everything just made sense. The way Peter healed so quickly, and the way he didn't even flinch when he was shot. After a moment, one of the other students slowly got up.

"You saved my mom a few days ago from a mugger. Thank you."

Peter beamed. "It was nothing!"

Deadpool, who had been entirely zoned out, turned around, a handful of cards and paper in his hands. "Alright, I got an ID. Do you want it or should I take it to Fury?"

"We'll take it," Peter said, grabbing the ID from the other man and tossing it to Ned. "SHIELD and Karen, please. We'll take care of it tonight."

Ned nodded and pulled out his phone, already starting to work. Peter fist-bumped Wade, who quickly left, and then jumped off the stage and grabbed his bag.

"So is it a short day now, or...?"