video. un: p.parker | don't drink and vlog, people

[madeupnames]

WOOOOOO—

[THUMP, CLATTER, A CURSE WORD THAT STARTS WITH 'MOTHER' THAT COMES FROM A POLITE LITTLE VOICE.]

Wheeew — Helloooo Riverview!

[There's a shuffling of feet as the familiar voice carries further away, like he's walking away from the feed. Someone calls distantly: 'Enjoy your glory years, kid!']

Thank you, sir! Where's the tram...? Which street again — Oh! I dropped my — [Dropped his phone. Oops. Right! He picks it up, squinting into the feed; Peter looks — well, drunk. He's very drunk. He whispers a little lower:] Hey, sorry, oops — sorry, it's late and I'm kinda noisy. I'll shut up. Shhhh.

[He staggers sideways in his attempt to sneak quietly, so there's that.]

Guys, I was, like, so worried about drinking? But I feel great! Mr. Wilson, thanks for helping me loosen up a little; I dunno why I was even nervous. I even did the karaoke thing on my own. Like, the thing on my bucket list? Man... It was so fun... I don't think I had that much fun in... I don't even know when. Heh. I love you guys. [He whispers in a giggle to himself, looking around and ignoring the feed for a moment:] I have noooo idea where I'm at... Oh, wait! that's Centerfield Lane, I'm doing great...!

But where's the tram again? Shit. Iiii mean 'crap'. Crap is what I meant.

Uuuuh. Hold on. [The feed blacks out again, and there's the telltale sounds of someone clearly climbing up a fire escape toward someone's roof. He's very coordinated for a drunk teenager.] There we go! I seeeee it now. Cool, awesome. Cool.

[He looks at the feed again, the background higher up.]

So I was thinking! I've been spending soooo much time moping about stuff I can't, uuuuh. Do anything about, so I was figuring... why not relax a little? I got this To Do List thing I wanna get done, and I was wondering if anyone wanted to help with it? It'll be fun!

I got stuff like — [He counts off on his fingers.] learning how to kniiit, surfiiing, learning origaaami... Holding a really big snake? When I was a kid I always wanted to face my fears and hold a snake, and I almost got a chance to, but then I remembered how scary snakes are and chickened out...!

[He waves at someone down below, sounding so happy.]

Heeeey! You wanna hug?! I have 'give a stranger a hug' on my to do list!

['Dude, what are you doing on a roof at eleven at night?!' the teenaged kid calls back.]

I'm drunk!

['I guess I can hug you?!' Peter fist pumps.]

Awesome!

[The kid down below yells back from cupped hands: 'Hey—! You're gonna break your neck up there! Get down!']

It's cool, I've got really good balance!

[He gives the guy a thumbs up. This is all still recording. Save him.]

Comments

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Now probably isn’t the time to correct the kid and tell him that if he’s ever talking to himself, he usually calls himself either “Quill” or “Star-Lord.” That’d just take them wildly off-track. ]

The difference is the likelihood of you barfing all over yourself.

And considering your weird fondness for hanging out on rooftops, there’s also a pretty decent chance that you’re gonna upchuck all over some unsuspecting pedestrians from five stories up.

[madeupnames]

I'm not gonna barf. And I'd never do that off a roof!

[He sounds. So offended. So disturbed. How could you ever.]

If you wanna do something, let's, I dunno. Get Chinese food. Or nachos. You like nachos?

... Or do you eat space nachos? Is there a difference?

[nostalgiabomb]

Yeah, we have space nachos. The chips are usually meteorite shavings, and the cheese is usually orloni mucus.

If I meet you somewhere, are you gonna be able to get there on your own without walking straight into oncoming traffic?

[madeupnames]

Gross. You're lying. No way.

[He looks tormented by your lack of real genuine nachos.]

Also, I don't think a car could kill me.

But I promise I can walk without getting murdered by cars. [Oh, he grows a little somber at that before he turns on the pep again.] Sorry — no promises, um. I won't though. I... yeah. Can we get nachos? Please? I'm so hungry, I think people are gonna start turning into food shapes.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter huffs out a breath, hesitating for a second. Eventually, he scrubs his face with his free hand before he stands, heading toward where his jacket is draped over the back of a chair. ]

Do you want me to come get you, or are we meeting somewhere?

[madeupnames]

[He frowns a little, unsure.

He looks around like he's rather lost, despite knowing where he is. And maybe he is!

A little lost. Despite... knowing exactly where he is.]

Uuuuh.

I... There's a place down the street? I can send you the coordinates. They have pizza and burgers and chips. Like, everything's greasy, but a good greasy. And they have drinks, if you want some.

[More hesitation.]

I didn't wake you up, did I? Uh. You can go back to sleep, I'll be quieter.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Yyyyep. Peter’s faith in the kid making it to wherever this restaurant is in one piece is starting to take a steep nosedive. ]

I was already up.

[ This, as he’s shrugging into his jacket. Peter doesn’t sleep all that well, still, and to his credit, he certainly sounds awake and alert. ]

Send me the info. I’ll be there soon.

[ A pause, then, ]

And make sure you aim for a trash can if you’re gonna hurl.

[madeupnames]

Roger dodger.

[Trashcan to hurl, got it. But he's so not gonna hurl tonight.

When Quill finally gets to the coordinates, Peter is actually sitting outside on a bench, one foot fidgeting with the other — but he's not alone. There's a big bald guy decked head to toe with muscles, tattoos, and scars next to him, and he appears to be leaning over to show him something and talking at length. "This is my son, and this is my daughter; she's thirteen. She's got a real big eye for astronomy."]

Dude, yeah! Look at that telescope! I just got an aunt, you know? And I had a baby once, but it was a fake baby for school.

["Hey man, you're still young, you got time to add more family."

Peter notices Quill belatedly and waves.]

Hey Mr. Big Pete, this is my new friend, Gordlin. He offered to chill with me 'til you got here.

[Gordlin looks up, the photo in his hands looking more like a stamp, he's so big.

"Yeah, this kid's trashed. Figure I'd make sure nobody fucked with 'im."

Peter looks at Quill, arms folded, eyes barely open.]

I'm not trashed.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter arrives on the scene, slowing as he approaches the unlikely pair. Maybe a different guy would be worried about the brick wall incarnate that’s apparently folded himself over the kid.

Instead, Peter just thinks of Drax and feels a weird, ugly pang in his chest before he can shove it away.

He keeps it off his face when the two of them acknowledge him, and he looks the kid over critically.

(The I’m not mad. I’m disappointed Look.) ]

You’re totally trashed.

[ In that tone of voice someone else might use to state that fire is hot, and that water is wet.

He looks back to the big guy – Gordlin, apparently – and offers up a small, halfhearted smile. ]

Thanks for keeping an eye on him for me. I owe you one, man.

[madeupnames]

I'm nooot—

["No problem. Don't be too hard on him." Gordlin ruffles the kid's hair before the two exchange goodbyes. Peter looks at Quill like he hasn't seen him in a million years, all bouncy and off-kilter when he stands up with his hands on his stomach.]

Food? I'm gonna eat my own arm. Seriously.

[He digs around in his pocket to pull out a tap card, saying as he goes:]

I got three bucks!

[nostalgiabomb]

We’ll eat like kings.

[ With the flattest delivery in the galaxy.

But after that, he sighs, nodding toward the restaurant. ]

C’mon. Let’s get some nachos in you to sop up all that booze.

[madeupnames]

Yeah!

[But he stands there for a moment, looking perturbed, maybe even worried.]

You're not — mad at me, are you? R'you mad?

[No, yeah, he definitely sounds really worried that you're mad.]

[nostalgiabomb]

I’m not mad.

[ He nearly adds, “I’m disappointed,” but that feels a little too cliché. And if he said that, he definitely wouldn’t be helping his case when the kid keeps teasing him about getting all father-y. ]

But if you wanted to get drunk, you should’ve had someone tag along to keep an eye on you, you know?

[madeupnames]

I wasn't planning to! It's just that those girls're barhopping and I was worried someone was gonna take advantage of them being drunk or - or something. [A pause.] But I'm Spider-Man, I'm like super strong, so it's not the same thing for me, I'm good. And anyways, I — I dunno, they seemed so happy and were having so much fun, I didn't wanna fall behind being some boring kid not taking any chances or doing anything new, and I wanted to be happy with them, too, and I was only gonna have one I swear—

[Quill, he's just going and going, man. You'll have to interrupt him.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Quill does, in fact, try to interrupt the kid at least a half dozen times by interjecting more and more sharply, "Peter. Peter. Peter."

But he only seems to interrupt when the kid pauses for breath, cutting in with a quick, sharp, ]

Bro.

[ When that works, Peter huffs out a sigh. He takes a quick look around, and while no one seems to be paying them any attention, he still lowers his voice.

(Secret identities are serious.) ]

Listen. I get that you’re super strong and have a bunch of fun gadgets or whatever, which means you could probably take care of yourself, but that’s all the more reason to have taken someone out with you.

Buddy of mine, Drax. Looks a lot like that Gordlin dude. He could probably bench press ten of me and not break a sweat. When he gets drunk, I'm less worried about him and more worried about what he could accidentally do if someone tried to pick a fight.

[madeupnames]

[His mildly bloodshot eyes widen comically.]

I wouldn't picka' fight! I'm having a great time! Who picksa' fight when they're feeling great?

[He holds up a finger, as if teaching Quill a Valuable Lesson.]

Peter Benjamin Parker doesn't fight anyone. He's a saint.

[A swaying saint, but a saint.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter raises both hands in a gesture of surrender.

(And also, secretly, preparing himself to catch the kid before he topples to one side.) ]

I'm not saying you'd pick a fight. I'm saying some other asshole would try to mess with you, and you might accidentally cave his face in.

[madeupnames]

I wouldn't! [His voice crackles as he blurts it, looking a little less comical about it.] That was just one time!

[Peter flinches back with squared shoulders immediately after the admission, looking like he might as well have slapped himself in the face.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ This Peter similarly flinches back, caught off-guard by the outburst, and—

... okay. He clearly hit close to home, there, and his expression softens a little, hands lowering.

He can get the story out of the kid some other time, he figures. For now, he relents, nodding to the restaurant. ]

C'mon. I was promised nachos.

[ A beat, and in an attempt to recapture the lighter mood, ]

Can you make it in by yourself, or do you need me to hold your hand?

1/2

[madeupnames]

[He looks at his feet — the very red converse he'd busted someone in the face over — and tries not to cry. Which is really fucking ridiculous, but for some reason it's uh, it's really difficult to hide that. Oh god, is this what drunk people deal with? Nevermind, he wants off this ride.

But eventually he scowls at Quill and is distracted from his brain.]

Of course I can make it, I'm jus' fine.

[madeupnames]

[He turns and runs right into a lamp post.

And glances back near immediately, almost losing balance with how hard that twirl he does is.]

... Spider Sense was a lil' delayed. No biggie.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ It's hard to miss the way the kid's expression starts to crumple, but he seems to recover well enough on his own. (Peter makes another little mental note – yet another to think to ask about.)

On a different day, the loud clang of the kid running straight into the post would make Peter nearly die laughing.

Today, though, he just snorts out a breath, reaching for the kid's elbow to help steady him. ]

Okay, Norm. Take it easy.

[madeupnames]

I told you, I can totally walk on my own...

[But he doesn't shove the arm off, and lets him keep him steady as they go inside.

(Maybe if he weren't so wasted, he'd consider the parallel of him dragging Quill through the forest, back to his apartment. Maybe. But he's wasted, sooo—)

The place looks more like an old pub than anything, and the lady looks at the kid with a raised eyebrow; this place serves liquor, so she knows a wasted creature when she sees it. But instead of exasperation, it's mild concern. Peter has that effect on people, especially considering he looks like a nerdy little schoolboy who got caught in a drinking PSA.

Peter wanders over and extends a hand, smiling and apparently forgetting the last five minutes.]

Hi! I'm Peter. Peter Parker. How many nachos does three dollars buy?

[She looks at him with a sort of bless your heart furrow of her brow, before looking at Quill as if to telepathically ask him 'what the fuck is this mess on my bar stool'.

"Plate's eight credits. But I s'ppose I can make an exception."

Peter does a fistpump of victory.]

Yus.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ It's kind of like following after a storm, if Peter's honest, and he lets the kid lead the way, even as he works to keep him upright and reasonably steady.

Aaaand then he's making nice with the bartender, and when the woman looks to him, Peter shrugs helplessly, shaking his head as if to say, I couldn't tell you, even if I wanted to. She and the kid negotiate over the price of nachos, and as she's wandering away to fill the order, Peter catches her gaze over the kid's head while he's celebrating his success.

He waves a hand to tell her, I'll cover it. Don't worry. She nods in response before turning away. ]

So.

[ This, to the kid. ]

What've you even had so far?

[madeupnames]

[He plops down on the nearest tall chair — one of those tall, round tables that fits two people, three max. And hey, he swings right back into pleased mode, because he ordered some nachos, yeah? He's aces now — nothin' holdin' him back!

Until Quill asks that.

Then it's a long stare, as he tries to figure out what he's even talking about.]

Uh. A sandwich this morning? A hot pocket and some cup of noodles before I went out?

[Nailed it.]