Chapter Text
It started small.
It happened on the first day of sophomore year, when Peter walked into school. It was as if every student who knew who he was had stopped moving, stopped breathing, even. Because Peter Parker, science nerd extraordinaire, wasn’t wearing his usual sweatpants and science pun tee with a zip-up hoodie thrown over it. No, the sweatpants had been replaced with a pair of light-washed jeans, the pun t-shirt was now gone, in its place was just a plain white one, and, most shockingly of all, Peter was wearing a crewneck sweater. Not even a sweatshirt—a sweater, the boy who was practically known for living in his hoodies—was no longer wearing one.
“Uh, hello Teen Vogue,” Ned teased, brows furrowed in confusion as Peter approached his locker, the other boy rolling his eyes at his best friend’s teasing, all too aware of the eyes that were watching his every movement now. “Look who stepped out of a fashion magazine.”
“Please don’t,” Peter grumbled, sighing as he put in the code to unlock his locker, swinging his backpack forward to shift some things around, glancing at Ned when his friend didn’t say another word. “What?”
“Is-is that Carl Friedrik?” Ned asked, leaning forward to inspect the bag, and Peter let him because what else was he supposed to do? Say no to the other boy? “It is! Peter, that’s like, a seven-hundred buck bag, what the hell?”
Before Peter could answer, another voice washed over the two boys huddled together, strikingly familiar.
“Forget the backpack, Leeds,” MJ drawled, tilting her head to inspect Peter’s outfit, an eyebrow raised, whether in confusion, judgment or mild admiration. Peter still couldn’t figure that out. “Peter, here, is wearing cashmere. As in actual, from a goat, cashmere.”
“I think we all know where cashmere comes from, MJ,” Ned stuck out his tongue, looking at Peter for support, only for him to shake his head, not wanting to be involved in one of their petty disagreements again. He remembered what happened last time all too well. “Well, all of us except Flash, maybe. I’m not even sure he knows what two plus two is.”
“Rude, but likely an accurate character assessment,” MJ quipped back, though there was a small ghost of a smile quirking at the edge of her lips. “So, Peter, jeans, cashmere? What is this? Milan Fashion Week? You’ve got a personal stylist now?”
“Oh my God,” Peter groaned, stuffing his books into his bag and turning to walk to AP Biology, aware that Ned and MJ were hot on his heels, fully ready to grill him about his new wardrobe. “I just got told that I need to stop dressing like a sleep-deprived trash goblin raccoon, that’s all. Those words were specifically used to describe my style, just so you know.”
“They’re not wrong,” Ned quipped, laughing when Peter shot him a withering glare, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He knew that Peter wasn’t being serious, but it was funny to tease his best friend anyway.
“Well, sleep-deprived trash goblin raccoon is your entire brand, Loser,” MJ shrugged, stepping into the classroom behind Peter, the other boy choosing to stare at her in betrayal over his shoulder. “Peter Parker, from a garbage-dwelling raccoon who never sleeps, to the next cover of GQ, sounds exciting.”
“Good Lord,” Peter sighed, turning around, only then noticing the entire class was staring at him, varying levels of shock painted on their faces.
“Peter,” a girl, Sue, cautiously spoke up, as if saying his name too loud would make him implode. Which, he might as well have, he was not used to this amount of attention—from even the SI staff—let alone his classmates. “Is that-Are you wearing MiuMiu?”
And so it begins.
“What, this old thing?” He sassed back, strolling past the rows of desks to get to his chair, as if he was talking about an old t-shirt he pulled from the back of his closet. “Actually, yeah, it was forced upon me, something about me needing to look sharper and to ‘dress the part’ or whatever.”
“What happened to your sweatpants and dumb t-shirts?” Marcus piped up from the other end of the classroom, deciding to butt in on the conversation.
“They’re in the wash, thank you very much,” Peter sighed, dropping his bag and plopping unceremoniously into his seat, Ned sliding in directly next to him and MJ at a separate desk on his right. He was slightly offended that Marcus thought his t-shirts were stupid. “Also, they’ve now been officially restricted to lab-only clothing. Look out, Midtown High, here comes the new and improved Peter Parker!”
The jazz hands did not sell it.
“More like the same old Peter Parker,” MJ snorted, shaking her head as she pulled out her notebook. “New and improved, my ass. Our new fashion icon, maybe, but underneath all that, you’re still that biochem nerd.”
“Hey!”
He was cut off by Ms Harper walking into the classroom, greeting them and getting the ball rolling on their first day of school.
Peter knew that his new style wouldn’t go unnoticed; as much as he loved flying under the radar, he never really did that. He was either too smart, too clumsy, or being picked on enough by Flash that he garnered attention. He just sort of hoped that, since he wasn’t popular, people wouldn’t really pay attention to the little things about him, like how he dressed. Apparently, though, his nerdy science pun t-shirts had become such a massive part of his brand that people did more than just take note when they disappeared; they were now treating him like he was some sort of social experiment. He may as well be; it’s not every day your classmate ends the school year with a backpack from Target that’s falling apart and being held together by duct tape, and returns to the next one with a seven-hundred-dollar bag made of leather.
So, a lot might have happened over the summer.
May got offered her dream job. Peter had encouraged her to apply for it when the hospital in Queens notified her that there was an opening. May had turned down applying at first, saying that it was a long shot and that there was no way she would get the job, but Peter knew better. He spent an entire week hounding her and being annoying about it until she finally caved and sent in her application. To her shock, and Peter’s gratification, she did get the job. The only problem was, it was all the way over in Italy, and while Peter didn’t want to move, he would do it for May. May, however, didn’t want to force Peter to move, so after a lot of back-and-forth arguing between the two of them, Peter finally called Mr Stark and asked him to weigh in with his two cents.
The last thing he expected to happen was for Iron Man to offer to adopt him.
And so it happened. By July, Peter Parker was officially Peter Parker-Stark, adopted child of Pepper Potts and Tony Stark. The four of them, him, Tony, Pepper and May, packed up the Queens apartment, Tony paying to have May’s things shipped off to Italy for her, and sending Happy to the tower with a truckload of Peter’s things. They’d bid their bittersweet goodbyes to May, and in early August, Peter was testing the waters and slowly started calling Pepper and Tony ‘Mum’ and ‘Dad’.
Pepper beamed, Tony cried, though he would never admit it.
“Dude,” Ned whispered over Ms Harper’s voice as she went over this year’s syllabus briefly. “Flash is so gonna flip when he sees you later.”
“Flash will not be doing anything,” Betty, who had apparently been eavesdropping, turned around subtly in her seat, chancing a glance at Ms Harper to check that she wasn’t watching them. “He’s out sick, which gives me plenty of time to prepare myself for videoing the whole schtick that he’s going to pull when he does see Peter.”
Peter raised a brow at Ned, only to get a shrug and a headshake in return. For the first time in a while, he would have a relatively peaceful first day back at school.
༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･
By the time Flash started school a week later, Peter’s style was already… evolving, so to say. Clearly, the last thing Flash had been expecting when he walked through the doors was to have a camera shoved in his face by none other than Betty.
“Flash Thompson, about to get the shock of his life,” was all that Betty chose to say, an all-too-happy twinkle in her eye as she continued following him down the hallway. They all had some sort of dislike for Flash; he was mean, cocky, and always thought of himself as better than the rest of them. Seeing him get knocked down a peg or two was going to be extremely gratifying.
“The hell is this?” Flash grunted, side-eyeing her as she walked alongside him, jaw clenched.
“Oh, nothing,” she waved a hand, dismissing his question. “Just filming for the fashion aspect of the school news.”
“There’s a fashion aspect now?” Flash wasn’t doing very well at hiding his confusion, and the knowledge that he was barely processing anything that was going on almost made Betty laugh behind the camera. Almost.
“Yeah, you know,” she trailed off, making sure to fix her gaze on Peter as he came down the hallway with Ned and MJ, the three of them poring over a book that was in Peter’s hands. “Ever since that.”
Peter, who was well put together, looking sharp and well-rested, and, Betty noted, very comfortable in that quarter-zip sweater he was sporting today, she was almost envious of how nice it looked. Instead of saying anything, she kept her camera trained on Flash, who had stopped walking and was now just staring, his eye twitching slightly, and Betty? She was going to milk this.
“Oh, Sue!” she called out softly, catching the girl’s attention and beckoning her over with a quick jerk of her head. “As our resident fashion expert, mind breaking down what Peter’s wearing today for us?”
Sue’s eyes flickered briefly towards Flash, who was still standing stock, hand clenched in a fist, and Betty caught the brief flash of realisation on her face before she smiled, nodding to her.
“Yes, of course, Betty,” Sue grinned, watching Flash’s face closely. “Those jeans, if I’m not mistaken, are Bottega Veneta, a gorgeous stone wash, if I do say so myself. Those sneakers are the Cambridge velvet sneakers from Tom Ford. The t-shirt, I can’t really tell, it’s just a plain white one, and if there's a logo, it’s hidden underneath his sweater. Speaking of that sweater, it’s gorgeous, don’t you think, Betty?”
She nodded behind the camera, her smile growing wider and wider as Flash just got redder in the face with each passing word. “Absolutely, I was just thinking about how I wish I had a sweater like that, it looks so comfortable.”
“Well, I think we’re just going to have to stick with our sweaters from Bershka and Stradivarius, Betty,” Sue laughed, bright and smug, clearly enjoying this just as much as Betty was. “That quarter-zip over there is a two-thousand-dollar one from Prada, absolutely stunning, extremely comfortable and, naturally, very warm. A beautiful piece, if I do say so myself.”
“Parker!” Flash yelled, finally snapping, Betty and Sue scrambling to follow him as he stalked his way over to Peter, who had stopped at his locker, the other boy barely looking up, face deadpan.
“What is it you want, Flash?” Peter sighed, sounding bored already. Betty couldn’t help but admire him for that. Flash was relentless in his bullying of Peter, and yet, here Peter was, standing there as if Flash wasn’t even worth a page in his notebook.
“What’s with the new get-up?” Flash sneered, looking him up and down with undisguised disgust plastered across his face. Betty couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Did you and your aunt go dumpster diving behind a retail store?”
“Yeah, because I’m so pressed for hobbies that I go dumpster diving in my free time,” Peter droned, turning back to his locker and shuffling some things around, not even giving Flash the satisfaction of having his full attention. “You know, Flash, for someone who’s oddly observant of my clothing choices, you seem to be entirely unaware of the fact that, not only are you wearing mismatched socks, but your fly is down.”
Betty suppressed a snort, glancing to her right to see Sue laugh into her fist as Flash turned beet-red, quickly fumbling to zip up his fly and attempting to tug his pant legs down enough to cover his socks. This was absolutely one of the best moments of her entire school career so far. It was rare to see Flash get humbled, even rarer to see Peter sassing back instead of taking whatever Flash dished out quietly.
Good for him.
“Whatever, man,” Flash grumbled, jaw clenched so hard Betty was surprised he hadn’t broken any teeth yet. “Clothes don’t make a guy.”
“No,” MJ agreed from her spot next to Peter, leaning against the bank of lockers with her arm crossed. “But yours still reek of desperation and Axe body spray, so I think we know who’s coming out on top here, and it isn’t you, Eugene.”
Flash turned even redder if that was possible, and if Betty continued to follow him down the hallway as he walked towards his locker to make him stew even harder, that was none of anyone’s business.