Chapter Text
It was a crisp October night out in Queens, or I guess you could say morning. The time was freshly 3 AM and all the bars were closing. Sam Wilson was walking the sidewalk, in search of his car. He isn't usually out in this borough, but a group of friends brought him out for a football watch party. After his friends had left, he stayed behind for a girl with a personality too big for him, which regrettably sobered him up and drained his social bandwidth.
He took a corner and finally found his car. He knew it was parked ways away, but couldn't remember how many turns and street crossings to take.
“Finally,” he sighed as the horn matched the clicking of the key fob, “remind me to never be out in Queens again.”
Just as he was within 20 feet of the vehicle, he heard a yell, followed by a crash into an alleyway. Weirdly, the sound came from the air, not the ground. There were no other cars on the road, so it couldn’t have been a car accident.
“What the hell…” He muttered. The superhero within him woke up, and he became alert and investigative. There were sounds of metal hitting each other and garbage being crushed. Sam followed the sound cautiously. This could be someone hurt, or someone who is about to hurt him. The alleyway darkened and he used his phone flashlight to see.
“Who’s there? Are you okay!?” He yelled. A stifled groan responded, and Sam still couldn't differentiate if this was a threat or not. He kept his pace and approached the person sprawled in the scattered garbage. “Listen, I want to help you, but you gotta reveal yourself. Otherwise your night is about to get even worse.” Sam couldn’t help being this defensive. The military training never left him and anything could be a risk.
Holding his flash light out, he made it close enough to the person. A foot in some red covering was revealed to Sam first, which piqued his interest. Something about this felt familiar. Sam got closer and said, “Spiderman?” his guard dropped, and he immediately became bothered, “Peter, what the hell are you doing!” Peter Parker and Sam Wilson have spent some time together to recognize each other, but often end up on separate missions.
“Turn the light off.” Peter groaned and turned to the side, with his hand clutching his abdomen. He was hurt.
“Peter, get the hell up! Do you know what time it is? You can’t lay in the trash, especially in your suit.” Sam wasn’t here to fool around. Considering it was late, this was worsening his mood. Peter is just a reckless kid in his eyes. Sure, they get along, but the difference in their training shows in their work. Peter is trained by Tony Stark, and Sam believes he lacks discipline. However, this wasn’t a battle worth fighting, so Sam kept his grudges away from Stark.
Peter couldn’t respond in coherent words. He just rolled around and groaned. Sam noticed something was off and took ease to help. He knelt down and pulled the Spiderman mask off of Peter's face to see if he needed help breathing.
“No! I’m Spiderman! Away!” He slurred and sporadically swung his arms around, but Sam caught his wrists. “Dude! It’s me! Calm down.”
After getting the mask off, Peter actually seemed to calm down, “Sammm!! What is up? Why are you here?” Sam rolled his eyes, but a stench of liquor changed his mood from annoyance to concern.
“Are you drunk?”
“God forbid I have a few drinks!” Immediate aggression.
“You can’t be on patrol while you’re drunk. Do you see how that could go wrong?”
“No.”
“Well, you’re stuck in a pile of garbage you flew yourself into. You are clearly injured. I was able to take off your mask, imagine it wasn’t me who found you.” Sam's tone was scoldingly, but came from a place of unease.
“What do you want from me!” Peter tried to stand up, but limped and his knee gave out. He yelled as pain shot throughout his ribcage and spine, and fell back into the garbage.
“Let me help you. You’re injured.”
“No.” Sam wasn’t going to attempt any back-and-forth with Peter. He was drunk, upset, in pain and stubborn.
“Will you let me drive you home? My car is over there.” He pointed out of the alleyway, and clicked the key fob. A horn echoed in the street.
“Fine.”
It took quite some time to get Peter on his feet. Whatever injuries he had couldn’t be healed solely by his super healing. Sam knew he needed medical attention, but didn’t know where to go, or how to convince Peter to be seen. Going to a hospital might reveal his identity, so, even with cooperation from Peter, options were slim.
They both got seated in the car. It wasn’t anything too fancy. Sam was never materialistic, so the only time he replaced his car was the time it got destroyed from an alien attack.
“What is your address, Peter?” Maps were pulled up on Sam's phone. He was so ready to be home, in his bed, and drunk Peter is putting a damper in that.
“That way.” Peter pointed towards the street outside, and flopped his arm back down. It bounced on his ribs, resulting in a groan. Peter muddled around on the bottom of the car seat, trying to find the adjuster to lay it back. Sam just stared in disbelief. He has never seen Peter drunk before, and this personality was the last thing he would predict out of Peter.
Snores came from Peter’s throat within the minute. Sam was so tired and using the mental energy to comprehend what just happened and what his next step should be. “Why is it always me who gets put in situations like these?” The thought of him comparing himself to the team created a spark in his brain. He went back to the maps app and keyed in his work address.
The drive was long. Sam was fighting tiredness while glancing at Peter every few minutes to make sure he stayed breathing. Just because he didn’t like the kid, doesn’t mean he wants him dead.
The car reached a gate with a pinpad and Sam typed in a four number code. The gate buzzed open, and it rattled away, clearing a path for the car. A long driveway ended with the entrance to the Compound. He pulled the car around to the back entrance, figuring it would be easier to get Peter inside. He left the car running and made his way to the door. A slight tug on the metal door handle showed it was completely locked, but it awoke the security system.
“Intruder alert.” FRIDAY, Stark’s AI system, came on.
“God dammit, I work here!” Sam just clasped his hands to his face in exhaustion. He just wanted to be home. A few moments had passed by and a new voice exited the speakers.
“What’s going on Sam, it’s late.” Tony Stark spoke. The irony of his complaints in regards to the late hours was that Tony had no intention to sleep. He goes through phases where he stays up at odd hours working, and everyone in his life has just accepted it as normal behavior.
“Hey, there might be a situation here, Stark. I got Peter, and he is wasted. I don’t know where he lives, but dude needs medical attention.” Sam answered to the cameras. No response came, but within the minute, lights illuminated from the inside, and Stark swiftly got outside.
Tony could see Peter passed out in the passenger seat, “why is he in his suit? Were you guys doing something?” Tony and Sam had an interesting relationship. Coworkers who didn’t exactly trust each other, you could say. This comment frustrated Sam immediately, considering he was the one who practically saved Peter’s ass.
“What? No. I was out in Queens with friends and I found him recklessly swinging around. He crashed into an alleyway and hurt himself,” Same explained, “listen Stark, he is really messed up. He got super argumentative when I called him out over being drunk as Spiderman. I don’t know what is going on in his life, but someone might need to keep an eye on him.”
Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead, “alright. Can you help me get him inside?” Sam nodded and they went to the car. He opened the passenger door and Peter practically fell out onto the sidewalk. Both Sam and Tony rushed to grab him, protecting his head from any injuries, or any more for that matter. They were able to grab him from his armpits and drag Peter into the Compound. Luckily, a couch was within a close distance to the entryway, and Tony and Sam had mutually agreed to just flop Peter onto there.
“Thank you, Sam. I can take care of it from here,” Tony suggested, “get home and get some sleep.” Sam could not have been more overjoyed to hear anything from Stark. He wished him good luck and goodnight and got back to his car. Deep down, he is pleased with helping people in need, but when it crosses a certain time of the night, Sam’s irritation gets worse.
Back at the Compound, Tony turned on more lights in an effort to wake up Peter. “Parker, come on, get up,” he shook the kid, almost considering a sternum rub when Peter barely responded, “what am I going to do with you…FRIDAY, scan for injuries.” The nice thing about being a genius billionaire is you can put your technology wherever you want. A blue light hovered above Peter’s body that scanned him from head to toe.
“It seems he has a minor concussion, bruised ribcage, a patella fracture, and a sprained ankle.” The AI replied, showing a holographic report on the injuries.
“Well, for all things considered, that's not too bad,” as Tony read the report, “you would think his spidey powers would have healed most of these things by now.”
“I believe his enhanced healing strength is dampered due to a heightened blood alcohol level. I cannot accurately say Mr. Parker’s levels without a blood sample, but my predictions suggest an excessive amount.”
“Alright, I’m not carrying a drunk baby to the med-bay, FRIDAY, wake him up,” A small electrical shock was administered to Peter, scaring him, and waking him up. It took a moment for him to adjust to the bright lighting, and even longer to realize where he was, “good morning, Peter,” Tony cocked his head to real a parallel level with Peter’s.
“Wha-oh hey Mr. Stark. It’s really bright in here,” he rubbed his eyes and sat up, being met with a pinching headache, “oh god…”
“Yeah, hey kid, how are you feeling?”
“Um, yeah, I’m good. I feel fine. How..are you feeling?” The awkwardness stung the room.
“I’m not really eager to talk about myself right now,” Tony sat onto the couch next to Peter, “you want to tell me why you’re swinging around as spiderman, piss-drunk?” Peter lost eye contact and wasn’t sure to approach his response with aggression, a lie or vulnerability.
“Listen, I only had a few. It’s the weekend, so it's fine.” A lie it was.
“A few? How many is a few?” Tony himself has had many phases of partying and drinking, so it was quite hard to believe what Peter was saying.
“I don’t think that matters, Mr. Stark. What matters is that I am fine.” Peter started gathering himself to stand up and leave, which Tony had no part in entertaining.
“Sit back down, you’re not leaving.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.” An argument was brewing. It didn’t help Peter’s buzz was wearing off, and he was feeling more agitated.
“Oh really? Listen here, we’re not going to do this,” Tony stood up, hovering above Peter, “You are drunk and you are hurt. On top of that, you think it is perfectly fine to swing around in your suit after drinking. That’s not what we do. We follow rules, we act professionally and we help solve problems, not create them. You should be lucky that Sam found you, and not some stranger,” Peter's face adjusted to the confusion when he mentioned the name Sam, “god, do you even remember how you got here?”
“Okay fine, I’m leaving.”
“You are more than welcome to leave, but you will be leaving that suit here.” Peter sat for a minute debating his choice here. The stubborn approach would be to find a way back home without any technology, and in the cold. The logical approach would be to surrender. The thing is, he really didn’t want to surrender, but the longer he sat still, the worse his injuries felt, and knew he could solve this problem early. “Okay I’ll stay, can you get me something for the pain though?”
“You get ibuprofen.” Tony walked away, completely done with the conversation. He loves Peter so much, and wants to be there for him as much as he can, but it comes to a point in life where he has to take a step back. Peter is growing into adulthood, and Tony doesn’t need to hold his hand anymore.