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Peter looked at the tiny container on the counter and then at his friends — though he was seriously reconsidering their friendship because of what they (specifically his quote-unquote ‘guy in the chair’) were asking him to do. It wasn’t particularly bad, just very fucking weird.
“This is a terrible idea, you know that, right?”
Ned made a dismissive motion with his hand. “It’s fine , you have super-healing,”
“That gives me so much more confidence, thank you,” Peter said dryly. “Why was I ever worried?”
MJ had her phone lifted up, finger poised to press record. “Please do, I need more material for my sketchbook,”
Ned grinned, gesturing to MJ. “See! Drink it!”
“Nedward, I am not downing a bottle of Vanilla extract,”
“Do it! Do it!” Ned chanted, bouncing up and down on his toes. “Chug!”
Peter stared blankly at him, then looked towards the tiny bottle of vanilla extract. It couldn’t be that bad, right?
Against his better judgment, he snatched the vanilla off the counter, flicked off the cap, and downed it in one gulp.
Immediately, he regretted it.
“Oh my god!” Peter spluttered, “That was terrible! Why the fuck did you think this was a good idea?”
“Ned was trying to see if the alcohol in vanilla extract would get you drunk,” MJ said wryly. “I tried to warn him,” She stood up on her tip-toes and moved her phone around.
Peter coughed harshly into his hand, “That was why you wanted me to do that?” He said incredulously. “I metabolize too fast for normal alcohol to affect me, let alone vanilla extract alcohol,”
“I wanted to do an experiment!” Ned gestured wildly.
Peter felt bile beginning to claw up his throat, and he ran to the sink just in time for the vanilla extract to come right back up, along with his dinner. He could hear MJ say oh shit, that’s not good in the background.
“Great idea, Ned.” He said through gritted teeth, breathing heavily into the sink.
Of course, because Parker Luck™ exists, that was the exact moment Natasha decided would be a good idea to come back from the corner store. They must’ve been quite the sight, Peter hunched over the sink as Ned paced back and forth, all while MJ recorded everything on her phone.
“Okay, what is going on here?”
The sound of Natasha’s voice made all three teenagers freeze in place.
Peter hacked weakly into the sink, eyes watering.
“Blame Peter and Ned, it’s their fault,”
“Seriously, Em?” Ned whined, “I didn’t even do—“
“Oh, you know that’s a load of bull,” Peter huffed, still gripping the sink in case his lunch decided to make an appearance. “You orchestrated this whole bad idea, you better goddamn take responsibility for it,”
Peter could feel Natasha’s exasperation from here. “What happened?”
“Peter drank a bottle of vanilla extract,” MJ — the snitch she was — said.
“Yeah,” Peter added, because honestly what else did he have to lose? “Did not taste like vanilla, sadly,”
He could almost see how Natasha was pinching the bridge of her nose. She let out a breath. Peter hacked into the sink again. Spit and vomit were dribbling down his chin, and it was honestly pretty disgusting.
“Okay, Ned, MJ, you two should probably go home, I think Peter and I are going to talk ,”
Oh shit. That wasn’t good. But then again — his train of thought was cut off as his stomach cramped painfully.
“Yeah, you guys should probably go,” Peter forced out, bile crawling back up his throat.
He squeezed his eyes shut as he threw up, again.
***
“Okay, so Peter,” He was curled up against Natasha’s side, his head on her lap as she rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “What’s the moral of today?”
Peter groaned. “Don’t ingest random things just because my friends say so,”
Natasha continued: “And why is that?”
“Because it’s dumb?” He offered cheekily.
Natasha rolled her eyes. “And?”
“… Because it’s dangerous ,” He groaned in a Teen Tone™.
The redhead fixed him with the Mom Stare™ because if he was entitled to the Teen Tone, she was entitled to the Mom Stare, which he personally thought was unfair. Her move was way superior to his.
“And?”
“It can make me sick,” He huffed. “Happy?”
Natasha smiled, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “Very,” She ran her hand through his curls. “я не хочу, чтобы ты умер таким некрутым способом. Елена убила бы меня.”
Peter stared blankly at her. “What?”
The older woman chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, Petya. Why don’t we put on Star Wars?”
“Yes!” He cheered to himself. “Thanks, Nat!”
Peter curled up closer to her and watched with rapt attention as the beginning credits rolled. He mouthed along with the words on the screen, eyes bright. Natasha pulled the blanket down from the back of the couch, pulling it over him.
The teen didn’t move a muscle, still fully focused as the first scenes started. Peter was grinning from ear to ear as the movie continued. He could hear Natasha mumble something in Russian under her breath.
“Мне кажется, я стал немного мягким,” Peter turned to look at her in confusion, but she just smiled a little, ruffling his hair. “Хотя я уже не думаю, что это плохо.”