Because eEEEVEEERryone loves them. Including me.

Do you even have a successful one shot book if the plot isn't there?

It started off alright then it just went south.

"I'm a sick fuck, I like a quick fuck-"

"Jesus H. Christ Almighty wrapped in a bag of shit, I hate you Wade," Peter mumbled as he scrambled into his jacket pocket. He had lazily cast in to the floor, unbothered of the constants inside. He had completely forgotten about turning his phone back on silent after lunch.

"Mister Parker, I hope that's not your phone?" Peter's teacher loomed over his desk, and he was reminded of the rising sounds of giggles and whispers.

He almost wished he never took advanced calculus. If he had known of the ridiculously strict teacher before he chose any subjects, Peter would have definitely considered a different lesson.

The teacher was almost impossible to even tolerate to any student, his nasally voice scratched at their ears, his hooded eyes glared at anything he found unacceptable (wether it be a piece of gum or a dropped pencil), his rules always following or students would be kicked out of the class.

In short, he wasn't liked at all. 

"I'm a sick fuck, I like a quick fuck-"

"You know the rules, Mister Parker." A lanky yet slim hand was pushed into his face, beckoning for the phone that never seemed to stop ringing. Yet Wade was never really bothered if Peter would ever think he was clingy if he constantly tried to ring. Mainly because Wade knew Peter didn't think like that, he found it cute. Sometimes.

Peter groaned in defeat - if Aunt May found out that he had gotten sent out of the lesson again, no lab, no patrol, no field trips to science museums; the punishment constantly repeated every time he got into trouble, which was a lot.

Sighing, he pulled out his phone and pressed it into the teachers rough hand, hesitating slightly but then sliding his finger on the screen and pressing it to speaker.

"Finally! I thought I was going to go for the record."

Peter slid his hands over his eyes, regretting ever giving his number to the mercenary. He remembered the time Wade had called him around eighty times, begging him to join him when he would go to Mexico for three weeks. The only reason Peter hadn't picked up was the fact that he was eating and watching a movie. From then on, Wade would constantly comment about how Peter was always trying to make Wade get a new record.

"Wade, I'm kind of busy right now. What do you want?"

He sighed when he noticed the grin on Flash's face, who had pulled out his phone- no doubt recording to be posted on his anonymous-but-not-really snapchat.

"Babe, no offense but can you talk to your dad? He's kind of up my ass because apparently I'm not allowed to kill anyone and arrange the bodies into cute poems for you."

His expression changed to confusion but then settled on a slightly smug smile as he watched the grins of students morph to looks of concern and fear.

"Sorry, but I'm with my dad on this one. We both know you need to dial down with the murders," Peter said with a new voice; soothing and kind - almost unrecognizable to the usual bored monotoned and rare excited rambles. "Besides, it's kinda gross."

"For the cleaner - maybe."

"Which always turns out to be me." He said forcefully, rolling his eyes at his forgetful boyfriend. Even though he knew Wade couldn't see it, the tone of his voice allowed him to vision it clear as day.

"Alright alright I'll stop. Oh! I almost forgot to tell you," there was shuffling and crashing sounds, making whoever wasn't permanently in a state of shock wince. "I got more condoms so we can-"

"Wade you're on speaker!" Violently blushing, Peter put his hands over his face, trying to block out the piercing stares of the people in his class.

"So you're not bothered about the murders but sex embarrasses you?

"Touché. Well, I am in school right now so I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sure thing, sweet cheeks. Love ya bye." Peter spoke the same, a delicate smile twitching the corner of his lips. He ended the call and pocketed his phone. Raising his head as if nothing had happened, Peter cocked a brow as he leaned back into the uncomfortable plastic wood, arms crossed.

"Well," He dawlded with the word, looking around at the class who were indefinitely shellshocked. He kind of wished MJ was here, as he knew they would have been back to completely complex (but not really) algebraic equations after the first three sentences.

But, he had to remind himself that these people actually had emotions- as in they would probably dwell on this a lot longer than MJ usually would.  Having a unknown boyfriend who seemed to be a murderer was not normal, Peter had to keep this in mind.

But he was also bored of the silence.

"Are you all just gonna sit there or are we actually going to attempt to increase our intelligence?" The usually stoic teacher hesitantly nodded and backed away in fear, never turning his back from Peter as he picked up an dried whiteboard marker, this going completely unnoticed as the man kept wary eye contact with Peter.

"So. . . f(x)=9x+193. Write the first 5 equations please." The beyond easy arithmetic sum circled back to Peter wishing he was rather in a pointless lesson like theatre. Still, he picked up his biro and scribbled out the answers, smirking when he realized everybody else was hastily doing the same.

He sighed with contempt. Flash hadn't kicked him, made a remark or thrown anything at him since the call. Now he wasn't regretting it as much as before, instead focusing on staring into the eyes of the asshole teacher, amused at his squirming and fearful expression.

If you were wondering; here are the answers I just worked out because they are so easy
f(x)=9x+193
f(1)=202
f(2)=211
f(3)=220
f(4)=229
f(5)=238
And yes, I am so bored that I actually did maths in the holidays. If you found this difficult, hunny you have a whole storm coming -slams foot aggressively on the ground-

Oh no it's not bold. Oh well.