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“This is lame. Wanna leave?” Michelle folded her arms across her chest and stuck her hip out.
“No!” Peter swayed along to the music in the background, ecstatic face illuminated by the lights on in the house. “How many times do you get invited to a party at a teacher’s house?”
“Just because Gabe’s parents are teachers doesn’t make the thought of going to a party any more thrilling to me than if they were any other profession.”
“Oh, come on MJ,” Peter grabbed her hand and pleaded. “Just twenty more minutes. If you’re not having fun by then, we can leave. Sound good?” Michelle begrudgingly accepted, and soon they were on their way to the punch station. Michelle poured herself a plastic cup full of the pink liquid and sipped it. Her face scrunched and she set her cup back on the table.
“Gah,” she coughed, “Peter, that’s straight vodka,” Peter raised his eyebrows and smiled, pouring himself a glassful and tossing it back. He coughed and it burned going down. He poured himself another. “You’re disgusting,” Michelle leaned up against the table and laughed.
“Okay, I have an idea,” Peter leaned in closer to Michelle and a breeze blew a loose curl into her eyes. She brushed it back behind her ear. “So you know how I have a super fast metabolism and everything?”
“Peter…”
“No, let me finish! We should totally see how many drinks I can take before getting drunk.” He nodded toward one of their classmates dancing on top of the diving board. “Doesn’t look like it takes much for them. I think he’s only had three.” Peter’s smile gleamed and she couldn’t ever deny him anything when he looked at her like that. She rolled her eyes and sighed.
“Do you really want to drink that much vodka? It’s disgusting,”
“For your entertainment, I would do anything.” He threw the glass back again and smiled. His smile was the kind that Nick Carraway described Jay Gatsby’s to be. The most genuine, true thing that a person could have the pleasure of experiencing, the kind of smile that showed you that you were seen and understood.
And now it was trying to get drunk.
“Peter, I don’t think this is a good idea,”
“I think this is a great idea,” a crowd started to form around Peter as he chugged drink after drink. They were cheering and Peter was eating it up. The knot of anxiety in Michelle’s stomach grew.
When the count passed eight drinks, Peter began to sway on his feet a little. After the tenth, he poured an eleventh. He tried to raise the glass to his lips, but missed and ended up pouring the pink liquid all over the front of his clothes. “Alright dork,” Michelle grabbed Peter by the shoulders and steered him away from the table, “That’s enough for tonight, let’s go home.” Peter wrangled himself away from her grip.
“No! It’s…” he threw his arms up in the air and flailed his limbs in what probably felt like a very smooth dance, “Paarty tiiime!”
“No,” Michelle grabbed his arm and leaned in closer. His breath was hot and his cheeks were flushed. He burped and it made Michelle gag. “We should go home.”
“MJ,” he whined and flopped to the ground dramatically like a toddler throwing a fit. “But I wannna go daancing!” he slurred. Michelle shook her head and Peter pulled himself up from the ground by way of Michelle’s leg. “Fine then,” he set his lips into a determined line. “I’ll just go without you.” he turned on his heel and almost tipped over.
“I’m going to call May,” Michelle called out behind him. He stopped in his tracks and turned around.
“She’s at… at the hospital. Too busy. Too busy for me.” The color started to drain from Peter’s face.
“Alright, I’ll call Stark.”
“I’m--” his thought was interrupted by the contents of his stomach making an appearance at the party. Michelle stepped away and dialed Tony’s number. It was maybe 11:30, so he’d still be up, right?
Sure enough, he picked up on the fourth ring. “Is everything alright?” he answered groggily. So he was asleep. Great.
“Can you come pick Peter up? I’ll send you the address,”
“Is he okay?”
She sighed. “Well he’s plastered and puking his guts out. So I’m gonna say that’s a hard no.”
“Alright, I’ll be there in a few. Text me the address.” He hung up. Michelle texted him the address and turned back around to look for Peter, but he was nowhere to be found. The puddle of vomit was still there and Michelle scanned the rest of the party for his familiar face. When she had no luck anywhere outside, she went into the house, music rattling the windows. She looked around and was disappointed by what she saw.
He was there. On top of a table. Dancing.
Normally, he’s an alright dancer. But the alcohol in his system did a really good job of undoing that natural ability and turning the movements into something Michelle really did not want to watch. People were starting to record him on their phones and Michelle reached out a hand for him to get down. He refused. Her phone lit up in her other hand, Tony Stark’s number flashing on the screen. She picked up.
“I’m outside, where are you guys?”
“Peter is refusing to get off of the table he’s currently dancing on top of.” She heard a sigh from Tony’s end.
“Do you need a hand?”
“That’d be nice.” The loud music was starting to make her head pound. She kept an eye on Peter, and a few moments later, a path was cleared and in walked Tony Stark. Michelle had never been so relieved to see a man in her life. Once Peter saw him, he immediately got off the table and tried to act how his drunk mind told him was normal.
“Oh-uh, heeey Mr. Stark,” Peter went to lean against the table and missed, falling forward into the older man’s arms.
“Woah there kiddo. It’s time for you to go home.” Peter nodded.
“Okay,” Peter and Michelle followed Tony out the door.
They piled into the car and shut the doors. It was filled with a hollow silence when Tony started driving.
Michelle rubbed her temples. Peter was so stupid. But looking over at him sitting there like a puppy with its tail between its legs, she couldn’t be mad at him.
“Do you want to be dropped off somewhere, Michelle? Or you can stay at the Tower if you want,”
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,”
“It’s no problem at all.”
Silence.
When they arrived in the garage of the Tower, the silence ensued for a couple more minutes. Finally, Tony broke the silence. “Wanna head up to the penthouse, Michelle? Couch’s all yours. Peter and I just need to have a little chat.”
“Sure.” She grabbed her purse and closed the door behind her, heading up to the penthouse.
Tony let his anger simmer for a minute before it came to a rolling boil. “What on earth were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry Mr. Stark,” Peter’s whisper came from the backseat.
“No,” Tony turned around to face Peter in the backseat. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. Not this time.” Peter looked down at his hands and picked at a hangnail. “Alcohol can seriously mess you up. There is a ten-year chuck of my memory that I have no recollection of. It’s not something to mess with.” Peter had nothing to say.
They got out of the car and Peter stumbled toward the elevator. When it rose, Peter gripped the handrails for dear life, the metal folding under his grip. “Mr. Stark?” Peter whimpered, looking at Tony. “Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good,” Tony felt his knees go weak as Peter bent over and dry-heaved onto the elevator floor. He’s fine. He’s fine. The elevator doors slid open and Peter straightened back out. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and Tony led him out and to the bathroom. He’s fine. Not dying, just drunk. Fine.
Tony sat Peter on the toilet while he went to Peter’s designated room for when he spent the night over at the Tower to look for some spare pajamas. When he found them, he handed them to Peter with instructions to shower, get changed, and brush his teeth. He closed the door behind him and went out to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He met Michelle out there doing the same. He shook the image of Peter dying on Titan out of his mind to be in the present.
“I swear that kid’s gonna give me a heart attack someday,” Tony drained his glass of water and Michelle nodded. “How long was he like that for?”
“Not long, maybe twenty minutes,” she shrugged and sipped her water. She had changed into some of Peter’s spare pajamas from his room and was no stranger to spending the occasional night over in the Tower. “I should have made him stop, but he was adamant.”
“Why? Has he ever been drunk before? Is there something else going on at school or something?”
Michelle shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she paused to think for a moment. “There was one thing that he said that confused me a little bit, though.”
“Yeah?”
“When I told him that I was gonna call May if he didn’t knock it off, he said that she was too busy for him. Maybe he’s weirded out by the… Happy situation.” Tony nodded.
“I’ll have a talk with him about it tomorrow.” As if on cue, the bathroom door opened and Peter wobbled out and collapsed on the couch. Michelle joined him. “I’m gonna head to bed, there’s a trashcan by the couch if you need to puke. Holler if you need me.” He ruffled Peter’s damp curls and dimmed the lights before going to bed.
Michelle could feel Peter’s eyes on her as she adjusted on the couch. “What?”
“You’re amazing." He reached out and ran his fingers over her face. “MJ?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Her heart jumped in her chest. They’d never said ‘I love you’ before.
“I love you too.”