Chapter Text
Most would argue Peter is in an absolute shithole of a position, that he was practically hanging on by a thread…if ‘most’ actually knew Peter.
The few that did know him, not Spider-Man, but Peter Parker, currently surrounded him chanting ‘Parker!’ As he was propped up against the keg stand, in forty-something seconds deep. How he was at a college party is beyond him really, some random student invited him one day and as it turns out, when you basically can’t get drunk, you can do pretty impressive things; and being able to do said impressive things gets you invited to places, college student or not.
So he wasn’t completely alone. He had Mick, Jack and La…and while they exclusively only hung out with him at parties and basically knew nothing about him, vice-versa, he wasn’t completely alone.
At a minute and six seconds he tapped out, the crowd roared and patted him on the back as he phased through everybody, heading towards the back of the complex.
Even through the hyped up crowd he couldn’t help but feel guilt on ignoring his responsibilities. He began to drift into his mind again but before he decided it was time to leave, Mick came up to him with two glasses of beer and handed him one. “How the fuck do you do that, Parker?” He spoke in astonishment. Peter simply laughed in response.
Spider-Man could wait. It was only half past nine anyways.
He brushed all his thoughts away and followed Mick over to La who was basically flirting with anyone who would talk to her. She was known to get all up in people’s grill after a couple drinks.
She was currently on the topic of her latest surf at Rockaway Beach, that sat about an hour train ride east of Queens.
Jack was nearby, talking to a mate of his — Harley — he thinks his name was. So he went over to them to join in on their conversation.
“Nah, that can’t be right!” Jack looked astounded, Harley quickly replies in giddy manner “full on, the guy literally lit off a bomb in chem class, I’m telling you!” Jack laughed and shook his head before taking a swig of his Matso’s — some Australian beer he found a couple months ago and wouldn’t shut up about. He then noticed Peter approaching
“Oh hey, Parker! This is Keener,” he turns to Harley, pointing at Peter “this guy can down like…ten drinks and won’t be phased. Mental.” He states proudly.
Maybe-Harley (he still wasn’t sure, but he knew it started with a H) looks at him as though it was the most impressive thing he’s heard all night. ‘Thanks Jack, could’ve used his first name.’ Peter thought bitterly.
“Nice to meet you” he smiled, holding out a hand out for ‘Keener’ to dap, Maybe-Harley happily takes it. Now that introductions were out of the way the two decided to start betting on who would get absolutely wasted first — Peter, was clearly out of the question, so it was more a matter between the other two. Mick joined in soon after.
Peter ended up heading out for patrol around midnight.
He swung through the streets, only in a slight haze from all the drinking, he reckoned if he had had any more and he would’ve faced his first ever hangover.
The adrenaline seeping through his veins kept him going though, the thought of not helping anyone any night possible was almost worse than the idea of a bleating headache the next morning…and from what he gathered from his friends, it wasn’t pretty.
After stopping a few petty crimes he landed on a rooftop that towered over everything else nearby, perched at a corner, listening to the buzz of life below. It was a peaceful night for the most part.
He sat there for a couple minutes before he heard a sound come behind him, thinking it was Black Cat he turned, preparing himself for trouble, but was met with darkness. “Cat, I know you’re there.” He sighed. Nothing happened though, so he strained his ears for a heartbeat, which he found soon enough, coming from behind the rooftop entry that led to the rest of the building.
It wasn’t Felicia’s though.
“And here I thought the strangest part of my week would be drinking enough to almost feel it.” He says under his breath, laughing to himself for a beat.
He waits a second before talking further.
“Who’s there?” He questions.
The Black Widow then strides from the shadows. “Hello, Spider-Man.” She greets, however her tone was rather cold.
“Oh, hey. Black Widow, cool…cool. What brings the an Avenger to my humble abode?” He grins, opting for a semi-polite response. He didn’t really know the woman after all, they had only met briefly during the battle in Germany.
“I’m here for you, Spider.” She stated, clear with her words.
Peter was all but confused. Did he forget something tonight? Was he that tipsy that he had forgotten the Avengers requesting his presence for the first time since the fight against Thanos? Surely not, so why would the Avengers need Spider-Man? It wasn’t like they had any connections with him. Especially not after his identity had been wiped. So sue him, he wanted to know why. “Why is that?”
“SHIELD has reason to believe you are responsible for the murder of Mysterio.” She says, almost casually. And Peter freezes on the spot. He swore they cleared that claim last year. Just his fucking luck.
His disbelief was quickly put into words “Mysterio? The guy who tried to murder half of Europe and then framed me? That Mysterio?”
Natasha looked rather confused at the question. Likely having not been informed of the actual truth. ‘Not like many people really were, or any since…whatever.’ He quickly shut down the chain of thoughts.
He continued, “you know, most people start with ‘hi, how've you been?’” His mood had slightly sobered after hearing the name, his voice made that clear — now a bit forced and resentful. Clearly, his attempt at a joke must’ve missed the mark as she was not impressed.
Soon after Widow began approaching the teen, with clear intent of arrest, so with no real thought, he absolutely booked it out of there.
Behind him he heard Widow call out into her comms “Spider-Man is running. West, heading towards Upper East Side.” And so, he turns to head further south into the heart of New York.
Suddenly Captain America is on his ass, 4 roofs away from him “where did you come from!?” He yells, nerves jolting through his body. He begins to catch up, then suddenly Peter is tackled to the next roof. He’s being held down by THE Captain America…what the fuck.
“Surrender, Spider-Man, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” The man states patriotically. “Always with the cliches, Brooklyn.” He quips, hearing a laugh over the comms from what sounds like Hawkeye. Peter uses the minor distraction and grabs one of the man’s legs and flips him over, swiftly webbing both of his feet to the floor. The action is met with an angry grunt as he attempts to escape the webbing.
He turns around before leaving, “Mr. Rogers would've been disappointed in you, Captain America.” He states in a disappointing tone, hands on his hips to really sell the act before quickly backtracking “oh shit…never mind you are Mr. Rogers.” Maybe he had had a few too many.
The man looks at him in only what he could call astonishment.
“Sorry, not sorry! I’m innocent though, I swear!” He yells as he takes off, hoping he doesn’t have to encounter any more of the team.
He narrowly avoids a building as he slots into an alley, taking a well deserved breather.
Then his spider sense goes off again. He quickly ducks down and immediately afterwards, the whizz of an arrow flys past him. Yet due to the slight buzz of alcohol in his system he misses the second arrow. It plunges itself into his thigh. Peter silently curses at the pain.
‘Great. Of all the times my reflexes decide to take a vacation, it had to be when Hawkeye was involved.’ he whines internally.
However he doesn’t have long to dwell on the matter as the Black Widow is suddenly on his tail again. They weave through the alleys fire escapes, he jumps from one platform to another, his leg nearly buckling when he lands, pain shooting through his hip. But he couldn’t wait around to be arrested. So he continued scaling the walls, looking for a way out that only he can manage.
Finally there’s an opportunity and he launches up and sits above the pair,
“You know, for people trying to bring me in alive — I hope — you’re both being very committed to the whole ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ thing.” He then connects his web to a neighbouring building and just like that, is out of their line of sight.
He finds refuge on a nearby roof and gingerly rips out the arrow. He is quickly met with a burning sensation of pain in his upper thigh but until he reaches his current housing he has no option to web up the wound. And so he does. Soon after he makes his way back to the abandoned apartment complex.
He now had a million thoughts steaming through his mind. “How, after all this, is Mysterio still destroying my life.” He muttered aloud, for no one but himself to hear. It was his fault anyway.
Maybe a hangover truly would be better than this.