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The grand mansion buzzed with life as laughter echoed down the halls, mingling with the smooth sounds of jazz playing from the speakers.
The X-Men’s New Year’s Eve party was in full swing, and despite the luxurious setting and the array of superheroes in attendance, one guest couldn’t seem to shake his discomfort. Peter Parker, in his spider suit, stood awkwardly at the edge of the large ballroom.
He was leaning against one of the stone pillars that lined the room, arms crossed, silently observing the crowd. He always felt a little out of place at these types of events—too much glamour, too many people. He preferred quieter moments, his own space. But tonight, well, he’d been persuaded to come by his two... very persistent boyfriends.
Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool, and Logan, aka the "Worst" Wolverine (a title Peter still wasn’t sure how to feel about), had convinced him this would be a night to remember. And he was almost sure it would be—just not for the reasons they were hoping.
“You’re gonna have fun, baby boy!” Wade had said earlier, slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulder.
“You might not want to have fun, but you will, trust me. All I need is one drink, and I’ll be the best wingman in the history of wingmen.”
Logan had grunted, already halfway into his third beer. “I wouldn’t count on him for much, kid. But, uh... he’s right about the fun part. Just don’t let him convince you to do anything stupid.”
Peter had sighed, even back then knowing he was going to regret it. But, here he was, in the heart of the mansion, pretending to enjoy the party. Well, not pretending, exactly—he was having fun, in his own way. It was just... he didn’t want to drink. He knew better. His limits were different than most people’s, and after everything he’d been through over the years, he didn’t need alcohol clouding his judgment.
Plus, he wasn’t entirely sure how to explain the fact that he just didn’t like drinking to the very people who insisted on having a drink as a matter of principle.
Wade had been particularly insistent on that part.
“C’mon, Pete!” Wade’s voice cut through his thoughts.
The mercenary was slinking through the crowd, wearing his usual red and black suit, but with a festive Santa hat perched jauntily on his head. (Though Peter commented that it’s not even Christmas anymore) and Logan, who was mostly hiding in the shadows behind a pillar, gave Peter a look as if he were silently betting that Peter would fold. Peter immediately rolled his eyes.
“You’re looking mighty fine tonight,” Wade continued, sidling up to Peter with a grin. He glanced over his shoulder at Logan, who was now directly watching them, sipping on another beer.
“Your boyfriend’s been eyeing you up like a t-bone steak.” Peter shot Logan a quick look, but the older man gave him nothing but a faint smirk before looking away.
Logan was always a little more stoic about these things. But Peter knew the truth: he and Wade were very affectionate, even in public, but Logan tended to keep a more low-key demeanor. It was the “tough guy” thing. Peter rolls his eyes as he chuckles but there was a small smile tugging at his lips.
Wade dramatically placed a hand over Peter’s shoulders. “Come on, Spidey. Just one drink for me? For us? It’s New Year’s Eve. New beginnings. New… well, everything. I know you’ve been through the ringer, but c’mon, at least have one drink. You’ll feel better.”
Peter shook his head, leaning back into the pillar, his arms still crossed.
“I don’t drink, Wade. I’ve told you this a hundred times. Besides, isn’t it irresponsible to—”
“No,” Wade interrupted.
“No. You’ve been responsible long enough. It’s New Year’s! The rules are different tonight. You’re allowed to not be responsible for just one night.”
Peter turned to Logan for support, but Logan only raised an eyebrow.
“You know, he’s not wrong,” Logan muttered, then quickly took a long swig of his beer. “One drink won’t kill you.”
“But it might kill me tomorrow, when I wake up with a hangover,” Peter shot back, shaking his head. “And I’m not waking up with a hangover, not today. I’ve been responsible enough for years.”
Wade was already pulling out two glasses, one in each hand. “Okay, look, here’s the deal: you don’t have to go wild. Just sip something. A little toast for the new year. Think of it as... a celebration for surviving all the crap life’s thrown at you.” Wade put the glasses down in front of Peter, and for added flair, he popped the cork of a bottle of champagne with a flourish. “One sip. One drink. No big deal.”
Peter hesitated, his hand hovering over the glass. He looked between the two of them—Wade’s expression was playful, but there was a touch of sincerity in it too. Logan’s face, as usual, was unreadable, but there was a small glimmer in his eyes that Peter could only interpret as something like encouragement.
“Just one sip,” Logan said, finally adding his voice to the mix. “No one’s gonna bite you for it. You don’t even have to like it. Just give in.”
Peter let out a breath, rolling his eyes but not able to suppress a smile.
“Fine,” he muttered, grabbing the glass. “But only because I’m trying to keep the peace between you two. You’re both insufferable.”
Wade threw his arms in the air in mock triumph.
“That’s the spirit! Atta boy, Pete!” He slapped Peter on his ass, making him almost spill the drink, snapping his head around towards Wade to give the merc a glare.
Logan chuckled and stepped forward, clinking his own bottle of beer against Peter’s champagne flute. “To the new year,” he grunted. Peter gaze soon shifted towards Logan, sighing as he lifted the glass, eyeing the golden liquid warily.
He took a careful sip, his face scrunching up a little at the taste. It was bubbly, a little bitter, but not the worst thing he’d ever had.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Wade said, smiling like he’d just won a major victory.
Peter set the glass down and sighed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t get why people like this stuff.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Wade said, giving him an exaggerated wink. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.”
Logan snorted and glanced at the clock, noting that the countdown to midnight was beginning. He was already on his third beer. “What’s next, web head? Are you gonna actually dance or just stand there and act all shy? We’ve been through this. Get with the program.”
Peter shook his head, glancing toward the dance floor, where mutants and various heroes were dancing, laughing, and generally enjoying themselves. He’d never been one for dancing—too many limbs, too many accidental collisions, and all that jazz. But Wade was practically bouncing on his heels, grinning like a madman.
“Go ahead, Pete,” Wade coaxed, stepping closer. “Show me your moves! We’ve practiced the cha-cha. Let’s do it.” Peter’s mouth dropped open.
“No we—” But it was too late. Wade was already dragging him toward the floor, where a bunch of X-Men were already attempting some kind of group dance.
Peter couldn’t help but laugh as he allowed himself to be pulled into the madness, Wade happily spinning him around like a ragdoll, Logan content to stand off to the side, shaking his head at their antics but clearly enjoying the scene. In the chaos, Peter felt a surge of warmth. It wasn’t just the alcohol in his system. It was the sheer ridiculousness of it all—the way Wade made everything seem like a game, and Logan, despite his gruff exterior, was right there in the middle of it, subtly keeping an eye on him. This was home. This was his new year. And for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe he could let go, even just a little.
“See?” Wade whispered in his ear as they spun. “A drink, a little chaos, and now you’re dancing. I told you.”
Peter grinned, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time.
“Maybe,” he said, “but I’m not doing the cha-cha ever again. You owe me one for that.” Wade threw an arm around his shoulders, his grin wide and mischievous.
“Deal.” And just like that, with the ball about to drop, and the world shifting into a new year, Peter Parker felt something he hadn’t in a long time—hope. It might’ve been a little messy, a little chaotic, but at least this time, it was with people who made him feel like he truly belonged.