Chapter Text
If you had told Peter six months ago that he would be crushing on his ex girlfriend’s brother, he’d laugh in your face then spit the entirety of his chocolate milk into your face, because what kind of douche falls in love with their ex’s brother?? Only this guy, Peter Benjamin Parker.
Peter likes parties, not because he drinks, everyone knows Spider-Man doesn’t drink. He loves them because they’re where he can pretend to be funny, charming and just a bit untouchable, sometimes. Hell, he loves them, he loves the sweaty, bump and grind can’t even hear yourself parties. Which is why this is going so damn badly.
He is stuck babysitting Mary Jane Watson’s buzzed baby brother by the pool while she makes out with her blonde girlfriend Gwen Stacy, probably having fun. You see, that could have been Peter himself, snug against some unknown body heat, pretending to be buzzed off of whatever blue punch was in the red 13x4 bowl in the kitchen. Her brother, Micheal has been babbling about how much he loves kids for thirty minutes and counting. They are on their fifth round of Uno he randomly had in the pocket of his tight light blue jeans. Micheal has only won one time; and Peter’s not sure if it’s because he’s drunk out of his mind or if he’s just become good at the game over the span of ten minutes. He swears he will beat Peter, but likely, this will not happen. His warm brown hair is curly, he’s smiling, softly and Peter is raptured; he needs to take a picture. His fingers twitch for a camera. He doesn’t have one. That sucks, he looks beautiful.
He lays out a draw four, Micheal hasn’t seen it yet.
Micheal squints and leans forward more than need be, Peter can smell both cocobutter, some kind of cologne and his liquor scented breath. “Yo….” Micheal slurs, but slightly confidently says, “Haven’t I met you before?”
Immediately, like the ultimate truth-teller Peter is, ( this is a lie ) he wants to say yes duche. Fifth grade. You cried over a broken Beyblade. I tried to fix it with elmer’s glue, we were like best friends for like a week. Instead he says : “.....No? I don’t think so.”
Micheal licks his lips, as if it’s a habit for when he’s thinking and hums, he’s unconvinced. As the time goes by, the less entertaining losing becomes for Micheal. Theres still the fire of competitiveness within his irises. Peter’s heart does summersaults. Yet, Micheal leans back, muscles flexing, shirt tightening along the way, shaking his head as if he’s dizzy. “Im bored.”, he mutters and splutters.
Micheal glances toward the patio door. Oh, his friends are calling him…. this sucks, just when it was getting fun, but he looks at Peter again as if he read his face and said, “Nah. I'm having fun here.”
“Okay.” Peter sighed. It’s a relief of course. He’s Staying.
Micheal grins and leans back further, his back reaching the soft almost technicolor green grass by the pool. Peter no longer misses the party, maybe, just maybe he had fun talking to his ex-girlfriend's brother…. but he will never admit that.
Ever.
“Micheal.” they turn their heads to the voice. “Michelle.” there’s some weird eye stuff going on that Peter can’t really understand but they’re definitely arguing. There in all of her glory, stands Michelle Jone Watson, arms crossed. She groans and rubs her face. “Nope, absolutely not, can you see I’m busy?” He whines, “You’re literally playing Uno by the pool drunk as shit,” Michelle says flatly.
“Language.” Micheal drones, “And actually, I'm winning Uno by the pool,” Micheal corrects. He sits back up on his arms and points at Peter like he’s a witness in court. “Pete, tell her yo. Tell her I’m winning.”
Peter, who refuses to step within the wrath of siblings, shrugs “He’s losing, terribly.”
Micheal’s head whips to him, tipsy and betrayed. “Now you switching up on me? This is wild, actually insane bro.” Michelle is reaching the tippy top of her bull-shittery meter, she pinches her nose, “Micheal, bring ya ass, we’re leaving. Now.”
He leans away instinctively, like a badass kid. “No, you’re leaving,” he says immediately. “ I’m staying here, I live here now.”
“This isn’t even your campus. You don’t go here,” she says.
“I could. I have options,” Micheal argues, like that means anything.
Peter snorts, then immediately tries to cover it with a cough.
Michelle, serious as ever, does not laugh. “Get your ass up.”
Micheal clutches his uno cards to his chest. “ I can’t.” He groans. “Im in the middle of something important.
“Its Uno.”
“Its psychological warfare. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Yeah? Well I don’t wanna get it and I don’t care, get up you big baby.”
She lurches toward him, Micheal dodges, nearly knocking into Peter in the move, he grabbed onto his shoulder for balance.
Peter freezes.
Micheal doesn’t notice or maybe he’s entirely too drunk to.
Almost as if admitting defeat, he turns to Peter and lets go of his shoulder, “Rematch,” He says “I'm so serious. You’re not allowed to play with anyone else until we play again.”
Peter swallows, this sounds inadvertently uranian, heat creeps up his neck. “Um– I– yeah. Okay.” He won’t remember this anyway.
“Good.” Micheal nods. Michelle finally manages to grab him by the arm, hauling him up despite his protests. “You’re done.”
“I was about to win!” he argues, stumbling slightly but still somehow smiling. “This is sabotage. This is oppression.”
“Walk.”
“I’m being silenced.”
“Michael.” Michelle says.
“REMATCH!” he calls over his shoulder as she drags him toward the door. “I’m not done with you!”
Peter huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “You lost.”
“I DIDN’T–” he’s being dragged by his ear.
The door shuts behind them.Silence. Well, not silence. The muffled thump of music, the distant noise of the party. But it feels quieter.Peter stares at the spot where Michael just was.Then drops his head into his hands, smiling like an idiot.“…Oh, this is bad.”
“Yeah,” Gwen says from somewhere behind him.
Peter startles, whipping around.
She’s leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, expression smug as hell.“I give it,” she tilts her head, humming, pretending to think red manicured nail tapping her lips, “two weeks before you’re down catastrophic.”
Peter groans. “Don’t.” She just grins wider, walking away, “Oh, I absolutely will.”