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]

[ Peter's posture softens a little again.

(Girlfriends with fucked up father-figures?

... yeah. Peter might know a thing or two about that.)

He leans forward on the table, propping himself up with an elbow. ]

You'll get the hang of it.

[ Eventually. ]

You're feelin' alright, though? [ At the very least, Peter seems to understand that this needs a little clarification, so— ]

You don't feel like you need to pass out or puke or anything?

1/2

[madeupnames]

[He snorts like a surly teenager at that whole 'you'll get the hang of it' bit.

But blinks up at Big Pete.]

... Tired, mostly. To be honest, that's just the usual. But now I'm gonna try harder.

[What does that even elude to? We may never know-]

[madeupnames]

[Because a big-ass plate of nachos is delivered.]

Ohmygod, that looks sogood. Pete, you see this?!

[IT HAS. EVERYTHING. SO MUCH. THE TOPPINGS



He beams up at the pub lady like she's made his entire life.]

Thanks so much, really, this is great. You're my favorite person.

[Said pub lady shakes her head and smiles as she wanders off again.]

[nostalgiabomb]

{ Well. The kid is being cryptic as hell tonight, and Peter peers at him for a second or two before the nachos arrive.

Anything he might have gleaned goes lost when the kid lights up like a Christmas tree, and Peter huffs out a breath, something caught between the crossroads of “amused” and “exasperated.” But because he can, Peter scoops up a chip – one of the ones toward the center that’s piled with a bunch of the toppings – and pops it into his mouth.

As he chews (because he is a savage), ]

Have you ever had alcohol before tonight?

[madeupnames]

I did! Yeah, yeah. A coupla' weeksh ago.

[He's just gonna talk with his mouth full, too. We're all animals here.]

Mishter Wilshon — [gulp] Gave me some. First it was, like, pure — bourbon? And he laughed at me, but then he did this cool thing with orange juice and it wasn't too bad. Getting drunk's on my bucket list, and that made me super-duper bold. So here I am.

[Where are these nachos going? He's destroying them. He's leaving no man alive.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ It’s just as well that this Peter isn’t very hungry, so he’s content to let the kid devour the plate.

He is, however, watching to make sure the kid doesn’t literally devour the plate. ]

Just so you know, the first couple times you get drunk? You should have a spotter.

Also you should probably drink more water before you hit the hay tonight.

[madeupnames]

Spotter. Got it. Spotter. And water. Before whenever I go to bed.

[Code: 'I aint' going to sleep, I'm partying, I feel awesome.'

(Little does he know, drunk people aren't always able to decide when and where to sleep.)

He looks pleased, though.]

This is maybe the best food I've ever had. I was starved.

... Y'want sommore?

[He nudges the plate.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter lifts up a hand. ]

Nah. I'm good. It's all yours.

Just... pace yourself, or you're seriously gonna barf.

1/2

[madeupnames]

I'm not gonna barf.

[madeupnames]

[Literally two minutes later—]

... I think I'm gonna barf.











[He barfs.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter, very wisely, backs up and averts his gaze, grimacing up at the ceiling. ]

... Dude.

[ Sighed out, this time, and when the woman looks over to the pair of them with an expression of complete discontent, Peter just shakes his head in equal parts apology and helplessness.

Predictably, she sighs and heads off in search of cleaning implements.

When the kid seems to have finished, Peter deftly sidesteps the mess, coming up behind the kid running a hand up his back. ]

I'm not gonna say, "I told you so."

[ ... though technically, he just has. ]

Do you want me to take you to the bathroom, or was that all you've got?

[madeupnames]

Nonono, I'm fine now, I'm —

[He looks entirely like he's gonna puke again, but he swallows and looks over at where the lady at the counter vanished, with genuine panic and guilt. As to be expected at this rate, but at least it's not guilt over something really intense, right? It's barfed nachos.]

I'm sssso, so, sorry, Miss Publady! I'll clean it up — I'll — I'll get a mop! D'you got a mop?

[His stomach churns again as he tries to untangle his legs from his chair, staying about as green as he started.

Not Gamora green, but you know what how it is.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Yeah, Peter knows that look all too well.

Which is weird, considering he spent most of his life around aliens, but apparently a few things are more or less universal, like that existential dread that crosses a person's face right before they're about to hurl. ]

Calm down. I'm sure she's dealt with this a billion times before.

[ And as the kid tries to get to his feet, Peter instead hooks the kid's arm around his shoulders, helping the kid to stand. But rather than head toward the bar, Peter aims them toward the back of the establishment. ]

Bathroom. Now.

[ In that tone of voice that shows that Peter isn't taking "no" for an answer. ]

C'mon.

[madeupnames]

[He moans in complaint, but lets Big Pete nudge him along toward the bathroom. Peter does take the time to crane his head to follow the exasperated lady passing by with her cleaning equipment, throwing words like "sorry" and "I didn't mean to" and "I'll never do it again" with earnestness befitting those red and blue tighty-whiteys.

His stomach churns again, and he puts a hand over his mouth.

And this, friends, is how Peter Parker ends up at a toilet in a pub at midnight with a dude who blew up his dad-planet. He just accepts his fate and expels what his body clearly doesn't want right now, and by the time he's done he's 15% more sober and embarrassed, curled up miserably on the tile floor with his arms around his legs and forehead on his knees.

Something about being babied around by someone he's technically superhero co-workers with makes it worse.

He's supposed to be more competent. And not someone people have to look out for in a pub bathroom?

His lips grimace against his jeans. He's so uncool right now. Jesus.]

M'really sorry.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ This Peter, in the meantime, just waits it out.

He's been here before – well, obviously not here, specifically, but in this particular position. Playing designated driver to Ravagers, leaning against the frames of bathroom stalls while they puked up everything in their system and then some. He sits on his comm device, just scrolling through news feeds as he waits, and when the ugly, wet noises come to a stop, he tucks the comm away.

And there's apology five million, though Peter stopped keeping track once it hit double digits, and not for the first time, he says patiently, ]

You're fine.

[ This time, at least, he adds on, ]

How're you feelin'?

[madeupnames]

[He sniffs, electing to hide his face against his knees a while longer.]

Really stupid.

... I dunno what I'm doing... m'like the Bad Example Kid in every PSA from middle school...

[He folds his arms over his head and resists the urge to go RRRRAGH like someone who lost at a game of Flappy Bird they were insanely invested in. It's a very trying thing, resisting that. And he's pretty sure the effort would just make him sick again anyway.]

May'd be so mad at me right now.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter frowns down at the kid for a second – sympathetic, this time, rather than disapproving – and he lets out a breath. ]

Everyone fucks up on their first night drinking.

[ This, offered a little sagely. ]

At least the worst that came of tonight, so far, is that you barfed up a plate of nachos.

You're fine, kid, even if it probably doesn't feel like it. You're doin' way better than I did my first time.

[ Not that he can offer this with any real authority. His first time getting drunk is... hazy, at best. Completely gone, at worst. ]

[madeupnames]

[He hums at that while in his sad little fetal position, clearly listening very intently to every—

... Is he falling asleep?

... He's falling asleep.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter sighs.

Then, he nudges the kid with his knee, just to wake him up, then loops the kid's arm around his own neck again. ]

C'mon. Don't pass out on a bathroom floor.

[madeupnames]

[Peter rouses just enough to comply, peeling his eyes open blearily.]

M'not passed out. Resting my eyes's all.

[He is carted along, but he does take the time to start digging through his pocket.]

... I gotta' give her the three bucks on my card.

[He'll survive until next payday, he owes her three buckaroos, Big Pete.]

[nostalgiabomb]

I'll take care of it.

[ This, said lightly, but insistently. ]

Plus, I don't think three credits is nearly enough to cover the nachos and the mess she had to clean up.

[madeupnames]

... 'Kay. But I owe you. Like... Free babysitting tokens... Oooor — or a free dinner somewhere...

... F'got coupons...

[He blinks tiredly, focusing on his feet. By the time they're back outside, Peter is slumping a little more fully on Quill; which is all good, he's lighter than he looks. Or is maybe as light as he looks? He's no Thor or Star Lord, shut up. When he recognizes the street, he perks a fraction.]

Jus' point me to the apartment, I can get there.

[Spoilers he can't find his way out of a paper bag right now.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ So Peter foots the bill and while the kid is half dozing off against him, Peter extends his apologies to the bar lady. Luckily, she’s apparently seen it all before, and while she accepts the tip Peter pays, she waves the two of them off with strict instructions to “get that kid home before he hurts himself.”

Peter dutifully salutes.

And when they’re outside, when the kid tries to rouse himself, Peter lets out an acknowledging hum – something that says, “I heard you, but you’re being kind of stupid so I’m gonna ignore what you said.” ]

You shouldn’t be by yourself.

[ This, said lightly, as he keeps the kid upright. He’d offer him a piggyback ride, but Peter isn’t entirely certain that the kid’s stomach is settled enough that he wouldn’t barf all over the shoulder of Peter’s jacket. ]

You’re either staying at our place, or I’m staying at yours. Pick.

[madeupnames]

[He tenses where he hangs off Quill.]

My place.

[It's a quick and defensive response, as he clears his throat.]

You don't gotta stay, I'm fine, m'really okay.

Jus' gotta drink water and sleep, right?

[nostalgiabomb]

I mean, yeah, but right now, I kinda don’t trust you to not just pass out on a tram and ride it around and around and around till you wake up this time tomorrow.

[ And also some other more practical reasons, like making sure the kid doesn’t hurt himself or choke on puke, but that’s such a killjoy card to play, and he doesn’t wanna bum the kid out when he’s drunk off his ass.

And in spite of the kid’s protests, Peter’s already hauling them in the direction of the nearest tram station. ]

Plus, I haven’t seen your place since you moved in. Did you finally do anything with it, or is it still just a shitty couch and mattress?