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May wouldn’t want this.
She wouldn’t want her nephew, practically her child, getting completely wasted at the top of a random rooftop in New York City at 2 in the morning.
But May wasn’t here anymore.
She wasn’t here to reprimand Peter for disobeying her. She wasn’t here to call Peter to warn him about missing curfew. She wasn’t here to make anymore burnt dinners. She wasn’t here to make “larb” jokes. She wasn’t here to smile at and hug Peter as if he was the most important person in her world.
She wasn’t here.
Peter brought the bottle up to his mouth and took a long swig.
Maybe, just maybe, if he drank enough, the pain would go away. Even for just a brief second.
Because ever since May took her last breath, a piece of Peter died with her, leaving him feeling empty. Incomplete.
He longed for a chance to feel whole again.
And so, he drank and he drank and he drank; until there were 4 empty whiskey bottles crowded around him, and Peter’s vision began to go blurry and his body felt weird.
The spider bite made it particularly difficult for Peter to get drunk, and it was something he hadn’t realized until May died.
But now, Peter was finally feeling drunk for the first time, and he felt pretty damn great if you asked him.
He stared at his hands on his lap, making it look like he had multiple hands because of his blurry vision.
“Woah,” Peter breathed, a sloppy laugh rising from his throat. “I’m like an octopus. Awesome.”
He suddenly jumped up, and walked on the edge of the building, stumbling every so often.
He looked down and saw how high up he was, and he let out a loud, ridiculous laugh at this. He should be scared, because he was just Peter Parker. Not Spider-Man. He didn’t have his suit with him (he hasn’t worn his suit for weeks; he just couldn’t bare putting it on after May died) and he didn’t have his web-shooters with him either. If he fell, he’d be gone. Just like that.
That thought seemed to awe Peter a little, as he suddenly stopped his sloppy walk and let his head hang low as he looked at the world below him.
He should be scared. But he wasn’t.
Looking down, his body swaying ever so often, confronted with the mortality of his own life should’ve made him afraid. But he felt almost comforted, because now he wasn’t guarded by his suit or his web-shooters. No, he was a regular human being. Just like May was.
A vibrating in his pockets broke Peter out of his thoughts and he fumbled with his hands until he realized it was his phone. Without thinking, he answered the call.
“Hi, phone!” Peter exclaimed, his voice loud and slurred. “I didn’t know tha was you, but it was!”
“Peter,” The voice on the other end said, their voice stern and concerned.
“Oh,” Peter said. “You’re not my phone.”
“No, I’m your very concerned and, dare I say, pissed off mentor that’s been calling you for two weeks now trying to get ahold of you but you dropped off the grid,” Tony said through clenched teeth.
“Aw,” Peter cooed, his voice raising to a higher octave. “Iron Man is worried about me? That’s sweet, Mr. Stark. Sorry to leave ya hangin’.”
He didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic; he genuinely thought it was sweet and nice in his drunken mind.
“Peter,” Tony’s voice came out in a whisper. “Are you drunk?”
“What?” Peter exaggeratedly shouted. “I can’t hear you!”
Peter broke out into giggles, sitting down on the ledge because he suddenly grew light-headed from all the excitement.
Tony winced and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Is that what the kid’s been doing for the past two weeks?
“I’ll take that as a big fat yes. God, kid, where are you even getting the alcohol? You’re not even 17 yet,” Tony was talking more to himself than Peter, since Peter was talking to himself in incoherent jumbles that Tony could barely understand.
“Pete, I need you to listen to me,” Peter quieted just a bit, his quiet giggles still being heard through the phone. “Where are you? I need you to tell me, Peter. I’m serious.”
“I thought you were Tony Stark?” Peter scoffed at his own joke and laughed, and Tony could feel himself beginning to lose patience. He wouldn’t admit it, but he hasn’t slept since Peter practically went M.I.A and he has been wracked with worry- and having Peter finally answer his call weeks later sounding completely drunk out of his mind didn’t soothe him at all.
“Peter Parker,” Tony started, and he could hear Peter’s laughter abruptly cut short at the use of his last name. “Where. Are. You.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, and Tony nearly thought that the call had ended. But then Peter let out a breath and said, “I’m on a ledge. The view’s super pretty. And my shoe fell off. I’m a dumbass without a shoe.”
Tony had to restrain himself from saying ‘language’ before he took in a breath. “What ledge are you on?”
“I dunno. Whatever’s the tallest building in New York. Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter voice raised to a yell as he remembered something. “Have you ever walked the ledge as an octopus? It’s awesome. Way better than as a human.”
Tony was already in his Iron Man suit flying to the tallest building in New York as he responded. “Yeah, Pete, sounds amazing. Do your old man a favor and don’t walk the ledge, alright? I’m not trying to spend my day scraping Spidey guts off the side walk.”
Tony tried to joke, but Peter let out a bitter laugh. “Not Spidey anymore. Just Peter.”
Tony’s eyebrows furrowed. He knew that he hadn’t been Spider-Man since May, but he didn’t think that he’d completely throw in the towel. It just wasn’t a Peter thing to do.
“Not Spidey? What do you mean, Pete?” Tony couldn’t help but ask as he flew through the skies in a hurried rush to get to his mentee.
“La la la la la...” Peter muttered under his breath in an eerily happy tone, as if he forgot he was on the phone.
Tony let out a sigh and decided it’d be easier to speak to the drunkard in person- there was no way he’d be able to get through to Peter through the phone, plus he was nearly there.
“Ah, there’s my favorite underage drinker,” Tony announced his arrival, stepping out of his suit and ignoring the rapid beating of his heart as he took Peter’s appearance in.
Peter was pacing the ledge, his clothes dirty and hair pointing in all sorts of directions. His face was red, from crying or drinking (though Tony assumed both were the culprit), and his eyes were bloodshot red. Tony had never seen Peter like this before.
“Mr. Stark!” Peter slurred excitedly, throwing his hands up in the air, making himself stumble a bit and thus causing panic to rise in Tony’s throat.
Tony rushed to grab Peter before he could fall off but luckily he was able to balance himself, and Tony let out a choice curse word under his breath.
“That would’ve been an ouchie,” Peter remarked, eyes wide as he marveled at the world below him.
“Yeah, a pretty big ouchie. Now, will you please get down now? My old age can’t handle this,” Tony said, tugging Peter to the ground.
Fortunately for Tony, Peter was out of it enough to allow himself to pulled down to safety, away from the “ledge of death,” as Tony deemed it.
Right when Peter planted his feet on the ground, he immediately stumbled and nearly fell sideways. Tony hurried to catch him, holding onto his arms tightly. “Woah, you are dead weight, kid. How much did you drink?”
“The real question is: how much didn’t I drink?” Peter said, his eyes glazing over and a lazy smile crossing his face, throwing up a peace sign.
“Please, no gang signs,” Tony muttered, somewhat subconsciously before sighing. “Let’s get you home.”
Tony began to lightly direct Peter towards his suit, but Peter suddenly grew agitated and drew himself away from Tony harshly.
“Home?” Peter’s bloodshot eyes were wide and crazed now; letting out a humorless laugh. “Home? Where is that exactly, Mr. Stark? My home was in Queens with Aunt May,” Peter’s voice cracked a bit, “But now, it isn’t that simple. I don’t have a home. I have no more family. I’m alone.”
Tony gaped at Peter. He wasn’t great with all this emotion stuff; in the two weeks Peter went M.I.A., he assumed that Peter merely needed space and Tony granted him that, never imagining in his wildest dreams that Peter was homeless, alone, and feeling this way.
Guilt struck through Tony in a flash and seeped throughout his bones.
“Peter,” Tony started, attempting to make his voice strong and firm as it always was, but his own seemed to betray him. “You are not alone. What do you think I’m here for? You think I’m gonna leave you out in the streets?”
Peter made a sour face. “I’m not your charity case, Mr. Stark.”
There was a flash of hurt in Tony’s face but it vanished within the second.
“Oh yeah, the web-slinging superhero vigilante that saves countless lives and reduces crime in New York City by 30% is a charity case,” Tony’s voice was laced with sarcasm. “The 16 year old kid that has not one ounce of selfishness in his body, the kid that gets excited at just the mention of Star Wars, the same kid who bounced into my life and changed it for the better, yup, is a charity case. Nail right on the head, Parker.”
Peter narrowed his eyes at his mentor’s tone, uncertain of what to make out of it. He was drunk, and drunk people don’t have the time or energy or desire to try and figure out the hidden meaning behind peoples tones.
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but if you are, that was totally messed up dude,” Peter said and Tony tried his best to not roll his eyes and let out a loud groan.
“Kid,” Tony was exasperated. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You know what, let’s just, yeah, let’s just go now. We can talk about this when you’re sober.”
Peter opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get any word out, his body jerked and he ran to the ledge, emptying out the contents in his stomach.
Tony was at his side within a second, patting the teen’s back. “Yup, let it out, kid. Some people are about to receive some bad karma,” Tony replied, smiling in spite of himself as he thought about the people walking way down below them.
Tears were now rolling down Peter’s face, as he spit out all the remaining gunk in his mouth. “I can’t do it anymore.”
Tony continued to absentmindedly rub at Peter’s back. “Yeah, that’s a good thing then. Hopefully that’s it for the throw up.”
“No,” Peter’s voice was strained. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and slid down to the ground with his back against the wall. “I want May.”
Tony stared at Peter, who’s eyes were suddenly heavy and who seemed on the brink of passing out. “I know you do, kid.”
This time, Peter let out a sob as his head rolled to his shoulder. “I don’t know what to do without her,” His voice came out in a whisper. “I’m lost.”
“Peter,” Tony’s voice was gentle as he kneeled on the ground next to him. “You’re not lost. You’re just grieving. I... I’m here for you.”
Peter didn’t seem to hear him behind his own sobs, but eventually, he shut his eyes and his breathing evened out, and Tony let out a sigh.
“C’mon, kid,” Tony said in a gentle voice, trying once again to guide the distraught teenager up. “Just let me help you.”
Peter’s eyes were hooded and he was nearing unconsciousness when he let out a small, “I’ll lose you too, Mr. Stark.”
Tony froze. “What?” He asked, his eyes wide and aghast as he looked to the boy for an answer but he was already asleep.
Tony felt his heart thump in his ears. Peter was afraid to lose him too, which is why he’s been distant these past weeks.
Tony let out a breath and looked at his mentee, something in him clenched as he thought about a world where he did, in fact, die and leave Peter alone.
He shook his head to dispel thoughts of his death from his head, because Tony knew that there was no use in thinking too much about that since that was not the situation they were currently in and if that were to happen, well then they’d (?) deal with it when comes. But for now, he focused on the situation at hand and put on his suit before enveloping the teen in his arms.
Taking one last look at the boy in his arms, frowning slightly as he took in just how exhausted and messed up he looked, before shooting up into the air and heading on home.
-
Peter hated the smell of hospitals and anything related to it. It always reeked of disinfectant and chemicals, and it’s a smell that was always present when something went wrong.
When Peter’s parents, Ben, and May all passed away and he had to say goodbye, all he could remember was the incessant smell of the hospital. He hated it.
That’s why he was grateful when he started to regain consciousness- because although his mind was a blur, he could tell by the way he was laying on something soft and had an IV injected in his arm that he was somewhere foreign and most likely injured. He hadn’t laid on a mattress, much less slept on one, since May died. He’s been sleeping on the cold floors of alleyways and rooftops- that is, when he did sleep.
Wait, Peter thought, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion, where the hell am I?
He forced his eyes open, which was a lot harder than he expected it to be, and and blinked away the blurry vision.
From what he could tell, he was in... a bed. There was a dresser next to him with a picture from on top... Oh. Oh.
I’m in Avengers Tower. In my room. That I haven’t been in in weeks.
Peter let out a loud groan and threw his hand on his forehead.
“Alright, okay,” Peter spoke to himself, trying to make sense of everything. “I’m in Avengers Tower, so there’s no danger. That’s one thing. I remember a rooftop and... alcohol and... oh shit.”
“Yeah, oh shit is correct.”
Peter’s head swung to the doorway where the voice came from, and he visibly winced when he caught sight of his mentor.
“Oh, hey there, Mr. Stark. How’s it going? Have you shaved recently? It looks good...” Peter’s voice trailed off when Tony sauntered into the room and sat at the edge of his bed.
Peter expected yelling. Anger. He expected Tony to ban him from Spider-Man and chain him to his bed until he fully understood the gravity of what he’s done.
But none of that happened.
What Peter didn’t expect was for Tony to sit quietly, looking at Peter with so much emotion behind his eyes that he couldn’t look away.
Peter cleared his throat and forced himself to look down at his hands, which were folded on his lap. “I.. uh...” Peter trailed off, not sure what to say.
Tony continued to gaze at Peter before he shifted his vision to the picture frame that was placed next to the teen on his dresser. It was a picture of Peter, Tony, and May after a Decathlon win.
“You know,” Tony finally spoke, his voice even and uncharacteristically soft. “When my parents died, I screwed the pooch too. Possibly even more than you. At least you didn’t harm anyone. I... I pushed everyone away. I hurt people. People I loved, and even the people I swore to protect. I lost my way. But you don’t have to go down that same path. You have people who care about you, and a stubborn mentor who won’t let you go down that path.”
Tony cleared his throat, trying not to sound or look as uncomfortable as he felt. “Look, Pete, I’m a bit out of my element here. And all the while, I’m also perfectly within my element, too. Alright.. I’m not making much sense. But what I’m trying to say is that you’re alright, kid. You’re more than alright, you’re better. You’re the future. And you’ll never be alone.”
Peter couldn’t help the tears that swelled his eyes. He had to muster all of his strength to make certain that the tears wouldn’t spill over.
“It’s just...” Peter shook his head slightly as he felt his vision grow more blurry. “She was my last piece of family. Where do I go now that she’s gone?”
Tony opened his mouth to reply but Peter hurriedly beat him to it. “And I know that you’ll say that I have you, and I appreciate it, I really do Mr. Stark, but I can’t accept that. Aunt May, I accepted because she’s my aunt. She was sorta... obligated, to take care of me. You... you don’t have that obligation. And taking on a teenager is not what you signed up for. The last thing I want to be is a burden..”
Tony opened his mouth again, obviously aghast at the words that came out of Peter’s mouth, but he hurried again. “Wait, please let me finish,” Peter asked quietly, making Tony immediately shut his mouth and gaze intently at Peter. “I need to let it out.”
“And,” Peter let out a shaky breath. “I’m a curse, Mr. Stark. First my parents, then Uncle Ben, then Aunt May... it’s like I’m destined to be alone. Because everyone I let into my life dies, and I can’t have it happen a 5th time. I’m just.. I’m just a kid. And if I let myself stay with you, you’ll leave me too. Then I’ll really be alone.”
Suddenly, the silence of the room seemed louder than the hustle and bustle of city life. The buzz of the room, the light breathing of Tony, the ticking of the clock- all of it seemed suffocating to Peter.
Everything felt suffocating lately.
“Kid,” Tony began, his eyes dark with emotion. “You’re not a curse. If anything, you’re a light in everyone’s lives. I know your parents, your Uncle Ben, and your Aunt May would’ve said the same thing. But... people die, Pete. And you can’t save everyone. That’s the way the gig goes. I can’t promise you I’ll always be here, because that’s a lie. But I promise you that I’ll do my best to hang around and bug you as long as I can, alright? I’m not planning on letting you go just yet.”
Tony went over to Peter and hugged the boy to his side, patting his arm.
Peter sniffed and let his head fall onto his mentor’s shoulder. “Promise?”
Tony craned his neck and gave Peter a slightly confused look.
“Promise that you’ll... try, to live for as long as you can.. that you won’t leave if you can help it,” Peter felt embarrassed, and more like a child than he’s felt in a while, but he really needed this.
“I promise,” Tony placated, understanding that Peter needed to hear these words from him. “As long as you promise to never, and I mean never, pull a stunt like this again. The drinking, I mean hey, I was a teenager once so I can let that slide for now, but the running away and ignoring my calls? That’s a no can do, kiddo.”
The corner of Peter’s lips twitched upwards. “I promise, Mr. Stark.” There was a slight pause before: “Does this mean I’ll be staying here with you?”
“Yeah. I’ll also be your legal guardian- if that’s okay with you.”
Peter merely shrugged but the small smile on his lips grew ever so slightly.
“Thanks Mr. Stark. I’m lucky to have you,” Peter let his eyes close, the exhaustion of the past few weeks now hitting him as he lay on his now-legal guardian’s shoulder, letting the soft sound of his heartbeat lull him to sleep.
“So am I, Pete. So am I.”
Tony looked down at his now... son? Kid? And let out a breath. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but Tony knew he cared for the kid more than he liked to let on.
At that moment, where Tony could hear Peter’s light breathing fill the room as he (finally) fell asleep, Tony decided that he’d do his best to stay alive for his kid- because he definitely didn’t deserve anymore pain. And if Tony could help it, he’d make sure Peter would suffer as little as possible. He just knew he'd do anything to keep his kid happy and safe.
Tony shut his eyes and let his head fall back on the headboard of the bed, focusing on the rise and fall of both his and Peter’s chest.
Things were difficult, but right now at this very moment, they were alive and they had each other. And Tony knew that’s all that really mattered. All they had was now.
Combing Peter’s hair softly with his hands, Tony let out a small whisper, “Love you 3000, kid.”