Ned sat in an armchair and fumbled with his phone uneasily, casting an anxious glance at Peter from across the room. He raised his empty beer can to his lips again; everyone else around him was so drunk, no one had seen him slip into the kitchen and dump all of its contents in the sink shortly after having it shoved into his hands. He scrolled through his contact list again, desperate to find someone who could pick them up this late. They shouldn't have come, it was a mistake.
MJ. Out of town and she doesn't have a license either. Though he was pretty sure that wouldn't have stopped her. Mom. Dad. Nope, he wanted to survive the night. May. That would be even worse. Peter. Ned anxiously looked up from his phone, his friend was drunk out of his mind.
The night had started out promisingly enough, Flash had gotten them into their first college party as promised and no one seemed to mind their much younger company. Though Ned wasn't sure if it was because they didn't care or if they were too drunk to notice. Flash started shoving alcohol in Peter's face almost immediately, urging him to 'stop being such a pussy for once.' When the unease on his friend's face turned into determination, Ned knew it wasn't going to end well.
Now, Peter was sitting on a couch with Flash and a group of frat guys. Ned couldn't hear what they were saying over the pounding music, but when, a relatively sober, Flash pushed another cup of jungle juice into Peter's hand, a sick feeling nestled itself in Ned's stomach. Something wasn't right. Flash and the others hadn't drank much themselves, and yet they seemed to be vigilantly making sure that Peter's cup was never empty for long.
Ned slipped his phone into his back pocket and took another "drink" from his beer as he approached the couch. Whatever was going on, he wasn't going to just sit there and let it happen.
"-kid doesn't have a limit, holy shit."
"How has he not passed out yet?"
"Initiation doesn't start 'til he does, newbie."
"Don't worry, he will," Flash said, pouring what looked like straight vodka into a solo cup. "I just thought he was more of a lightweight." Ned's stomach dropped. They were purposely trying to get Peter drunk. No, they had already succeeded at that, but his friend hadn't passed out yet. A chill went down his spine when he considered what they might have planned once Peter did. He definitely needed to get his friend out of here.
"He's had enough, Flash. Leave him alone," Ned said, reaching for his friend's arm. Flash jumped up from the couch and stood in between them, shoving Ned's hand away from Peter.
"Why don't you mind your own business, Leeds?" Everyone on the couch was staring at Ned, and Peter suddenly realised he was there too.
"Oh heeeyy, Ned. Wha's up, man?"
"I said, leave him alone." Before he saw it coming, Flash pushed him hard on the chest and Ned stumbled backward.
"Why don't you make me, chubbs?" He felt his face redden when the guys on the couch snickered to one another. Peter's eyebrows furrowed, finally realizing something was going on.
"Ned don' worry. S'fine, we're jus' hangin' out s'all," he slurred, taking another drink of punch. Flash took another step forward.
"Yeah, Leeds. You heard him, we're just hanging out, so why don't you fuck off?" Ned swallowed at the four other guys smirking at him from the couch. He was badly outnumbered, and Ned knew that he wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight against them. He bit the inside of his cheek, leaving Peter here meant leaving him at their mercy, and Ned didn't think he would ever be able to forgive himself if he did. He could feel tears beginning to sting the corners of his eyes, Ned looked away so Flash wouldn't see them. He clenched his fist, if trying to get Peter out of here meant getting beaten to a pulp, then it was worth it.
"No." The challenge was plain as day, and a dangerous glint appeared in Flash's eyes.
"No?" Flash looked over his shoulder at the older guys on the couch with a devilish grin. "You hear that guys? I think it's time I showed-"
He was cut off by Ned's fist connecting with his cheekbone, the force sent him sprawling backward and nearly to the ground. Flash frantically clawed at the couch to catch himself and narrowly avoided landing on Peter's lap. The college students howled with laughter and Flash's face turn murderous, Ned involuntarily took a step back. Flash charged at him, swinging wildly at his face with a speed that Ned hadn't expected. He managed to throw an arm up without a moment to spare, but Flash had already sent another jab downward and hit him solidly in the stomach.
Ned gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, inadvertently hunching over at the sudden pain. He heard hooting over the music, and what sounded like Peter's voice, but he had little time to contemplate the fact before a fist crashed into his nose. The next thing he knew, Ned was on the ground, tears blurring his vision from the pain. Flash was standing over him, smug victory plastered all over his face as he turned and grabbed something, throwing it on the floor by Ned's face.
"Here, Leeds. Why don't you call your mommy and have her pick you up? Parker won't be needing it." When he finally got his eyes to focus, Ned saw it was Peter's phone that had clattered to the floor. He grabbed it hurriedly and shoved it in his pocket when Ned realized there was still one more thing he could try.
Flash had already turned back to the couch, fist bumping one of the jocks and laughing. Ned colored as he realised that quite a few others had gathered around to see the commotion, and were snickering at him. He quickly got up and weaved through the crowd of laughing college students toward the bathroom. Thankfully it was empty, so Ned slipped inside and shut the door behind him.
He cringed as he caught a glance of himself in the mirror; blood was streaming from his nose and had already gotten on his shirt. Ned grabbed a wad of toilet paper and tried to stem the flow as he unlocked Peter's phone. Ned smiled in spite of himself. Of course Peter's password was Spiderman.
He scrolled through Peter's contact list and prayed that the number he was looking for was there. Finally, he found it and sent a quick text.
Peter Parker: Please call me. It's important.
The reply came in under a minute.
Tony freaking Stark 😱😱: At nearly midnight? Kid, I'm getting old, how do you know I'm not in bed already?
Tony freaking Stark 😱😱: Actually scratch that, who am I kidding?
Tony freaking Stark😱😱: and btw, the last time you said it was important, you just wanted to tell me about that morbidly obese squirrel you saw in central park.
Ned rolled his eyes, and tapped out a hurried reply.
Peter Parker: Urgent.
Apparently that was all the man needed to hear because the phone started vibrating almost immediately. Ned made sure the door was locked, and he picked it up.
"What's going on, kid?" The joking had disappeared without a trace, and Ned was grateful.
"Mr. Stark, I'm sorry to bother you." Ned tilted his head back. "But this is an emergency-"
"Who is this and why do you have Peter's phone?" Ned cringed, how was he supposed to explain that he and Peter had thought it was a good idea to go to a college party? Let alone at Flash's recommendation.
"Uh, this is Peter's friend-"
"Ted? What's going on? And why does your voice sound like that?"
"It's Ned- never mind that doesn't matter. I kind of got punched, I think my nose is broken." He prodded it with his fingers and yelped at the jolt that shot through his face. "No, yeah it's definitely broken."
"What? I'm going to need you to back up here, where are you guys?" Ned swallowed, well here went nothing. He just hoped Mr. Stark didn't fly him to the top of the Empire State building and leave him there after all of this.
"Peter and I went to a party, and there's a bunch of guys getting Peter drunk. I tried to stop it, Mr. Stark, I swear, I'm sorry…" Ned's voice broke as tears slipped down his face. Why hadn't he tried harder to talk Peter out of going? Some friend he was.
"Whoa, hang on. I need you to keep it together for little bit longer. I'm already on the way to my car." From what it sounded like, Ned knew Mr. Stark was actually running there. "Where are you and Peter right now?"
"I locked myself in the bathroom, and Peter was on the couch when I left. Please hurry, Mr. Stark, I don't know what they're going to do."
"Okay, stay there. Text me the address, I'll be there as soon as I can."
Tony gripped his steering wheel tightly as he floored it. A rage he had never felt before was running hot through his veins. He had been angry when his mansion, along with his life's work, had been blown to hell off a cliff. When the plane Happy had insisted was secure, also carrying his life's work, had been destroyed and nearly took Peter with it, Tony had been furious. This was different, a fiery protectiveness bloomed in his chest. There was going to be hell to pay.
"Pete, what did you get yourself into," he muttered to himself when the house came into view. Tony didn't look to verify the address number, there wasn't any need to. There were drunk college kids everywhere.
The house clearly belonged to a fraternity, its greek symbol sat above the front door and was plastered to several flags hanging beside it. Not to mention one of the jocks had it painted across his bare chest. Tony smiled grimly, this fraternity was going to be shut down come Monday morning. The best part was that it would only take a single letter to the dean explaining that his intern had been victimized, and he would refuse to continue making rather generous donations if such action was not taken. These punks didn't stand a chance.
Tony parked in front of the house and stepped out into the street before cutting across the lawn, toward the front door.
"Hey, nice car, man!"
He ignored the shout and continued walking. Several of the partiers had quieted down and were watching him anxiously, suddenly aware that an adult was present. Tony walked up the porch steps and headed through the open door.
"Hey, what do you think you're-" Shirtless toughguy stepped forward to stop him, but froze when he saw who was walking into his frat house. Tony smirked, kid didn't even know what was gonna hit him.
The music got even louder when he was inside, Tony was surprised none of the frames on the wall had fallen off at the absurd amount of bass vibrating through the house. He walked past the staircase and pushed through a group of girls in skimpy outfits toward what he assumed was the living room. That's where Ned had said Peter was, right?
His question was answered when a roar of laughter erupted ahead of him.
"No way, he's actually pissing himself!" Tony shoved his way into the room and froze at what he saw.
Peter was sitting on the ground, his back pressed against the couch and a red solo cup held in his hand at a precarious angle. There was a group of jocks sitting behind him on the cushions, watching with interest, almost like they were supervising the whole thing. They looked like Grade A douchebags, complete with bad tans and muscle shirts with sleazy catch phrases in neon lettering. One of the shirts read: Leg Rests and had an arrow pointing at each shoulder. A much younger kid that caught Tony's eye, the one who had shouted, was standing in front of Peter recording. The bright light coming from his phone shined in Peter's face and he clumsily tried to block it with his hand.
Peter's eyes were glazed and he didn't seem to understand what was so funny, but laughed along anyway. Penis Parker, along with other obscenities, was written all over his face. The kid's belt was unbuckled and a dark stain was spreading across the front of his pants.
Tony saw red.
Spinning the face of his watch, Tony felt metal cover his right hand as he rushed forward and grabbed the curly haired rat holding the phone with the other. He yelped as Tony shoved him up against the wall, fistful of fabric clutched in his left hand. Tony hardly registered the shouts over the blood roaring in his ears, and he pointed his right palm inches from his face, the repuslor ready to fire. The kid paled, and recognition suddenly sparked in Tony's eyes.
Flash.
Just when Tony thought the piece of shit was going to faint, he pointed his hand at the booming speaker standing in the corner and fired a single blast, killing it instantly.
"Party's over," Tony yelled, not breaking eye contact for a second. Satisfied with the screams and footsteps pounding toward the front door, Tony tightened his grip on Flash's shirt and pointed his palm back at his face.
"P-please don't-" Tears had already started running down his face, and he looked so terrified Tony thought he was going to pee his pants. He internally shrugged, it would be poetic justice if he did.
"How much did you give him?" Tony snarled, yanking on his collar harshly.
"I-I only gave him a few beers," Flash choked out, pressing his head back into the wall as hard as he could to get away from the weapon.
"Bull. Shit." Tony pointed the repulsor even closer to his face and the light got brighter.
"Okay! Okay! I- I don't remember, think it was three beers, some vodka, jungle juice, whiskey, and a c-couple shots of tequila." Tony thought he was going to lose it.
"What was in the punch?"
"I don't know, I swear! Please-"
"What was all of this, are you trying to kill him?" Flash's eyes got even wider as tears continued to well in his eyes.
"No! I swear, it was just initiation for next year. I-I didn't want to do it, but I had to-"
"It looked like you were enjoying it to me." So it was the fraternity's doing. Tony kept the blaster trained on him, though in the back of his mind he knew he'd never shoot the idiot, and looked back at the couch. The douchebags had already taken off, leaving Peter sitting on the ground. Ned had appeared and was helping Peter get his belt back on. He was crying.
"You know I could let all this get out, that Tony Stark's intern was nearly killed by his own classmate," Tony threatened, turning back to Flash who had managed to pale even more. "No university would ever admit you, and you certainly won't be getting my recommendation letter. Hell, the police might even get involved."
"No, please. I'll do anything, Mr. Stark." The jerk was openly sobbing now. Tony didn't feel an ounce of sympathy.
Tony weighed his options. He could expose the punk, God knows he deserved it, but then that would create a huge mess that Tony knew Peter wouldn't appreciate. He glared at Flash, Tony had heard a lot about this asshole and found a deep satisfaction at seeing him blubber for mercy. This punk had bullied Peter since middle school, and had been relentless ever since. It had taken many long nights of coaxing for him to draw this information out of the kid, and whenever Peter showed up to the tower in tears, Tony knew why. He smiled, and that seemed to scare Flash even more.
"Oh I know you will," Tony said, lowering his hand and disarming the repulsor. He hit a button and it disappeared, collapsing back into his watch. "First, I want the names of each and every prick who put you up to this." Flash nodded hastily, not showing a second thought about snitching on them. Tony grabbed a business card out of his shirt pocket with his free hand and let it flutter to the ground, his left hand still holding onto Flash's shirt. "You email me those names by tomorrow morning, or I'm going to expose you as the ringleader, do you understand?"
"Y-yes."
"Second, I know who you are. You're a pathetic piece of shit that gets off on making Peter's life miserable. That stops now." Tony brought his face more inches from Flash's. "If I hear one more, just one more complaint about how you've been cruel to him, all bets are off. Got it?" Flash nodded vigorously.
"Good." Tony released him and he slid to the ground. "And if that video you took, surfaces anywhere and I mean anywhere, same deal. So I suggest you delete it." Flash scrambled for his phone and the business card on the ground, before hurriedly scrolling through it.
"Okay, it's gone."
"Smart choice," Tony said, pulling Flash to his feet. "Now get out." He didn't need to be told twice, as soon as Tony released him he ran toward the front door as fast as he could. When he turned around, Tony saw Ned crouched beside Peter, trying to console him. Peter's friend looked up and Tony cringed at the purple bruising that was already starting to color his nose. He looked at Tony sadly before turning back to his crying friend.
"Peter it's okay, this isn't your fault. It was Flash's and those assholes. Remember in health class? Alcohol is a diuretic, you couldn't control it." Peter shook his head and continued to sob inconsolably. "It's okay, man. You're drunk, it basically doesn't count."
Tony walked over to Peter and sat on the couch, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Ned's right, Pete. Not your fault." Peter kept crying, but Tony wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the embarrassment talking. "Come on, kiddo, it's time to go." Ned helped Tony pull Peter to his feet, and he stumbled, holding onto Tony for dear life.
"Room's spinning," he whimpered, trying to get his balance under control.
"Yeah, it's going to be doing that for awhile." Tony helped the drunk teenager walk, while Ned kept a cautious hand on his back in case he fell. When they made it out of the house, Tony saw that everyone was gone, except for a few stragglers who watched them from a distance. Unlocking his car, Tony guided Peter into the passenger seat while Ned opened a door and slid into the seat behind his friend. Tony got into the driver's seat and pulled away from the curb.
"Um, are you taking me home, Mister Stark?" Tony glanced up to the rear view mirror and looked at Ned.
"Not with that shiner. We're going back to the tower to get you both checked out first." Ned fell silent.
Tony focused back on the road and sped up. He needed to get Peter to the medbay to make sure the kid wasn't ODing, the only thing preventing him from going into a full fledged panic attack was the fact that he was still conscious.
"M'ser Stark, I don' feel good," Peter slurred, shifting uncomfortably in the seat. He had stopped crying for the time being, but Tony doubted it would last for very long.
"I know, buddy. We're almost there, just hang on-" Tony was cut off when Peter suddenly pitched forward and vomited harshly all over the floorboard and himself.
"Shit!" Tony hit his steering wheel, and immediately regretted it when Peter jumped. He coughed and tears began running down his face again. Tony sighed, he definitely should have seen that coming.
"Oh no, oh no, m'so sorry, please don't be mad-" Peter was interrupted when around gag tore from his throat and sent more of the foul liquid splashing onto the carpet. He was crying hard now, fingers pressed to his mouth as if it would stop any more from coming up. Tony cringed at the splattering beside him and the smell beginning to fill the car. His heart felt heavy at Peter's pleading, the kid almost sounded afraid. He cursed his knee jerk reaction and rubbed his back gently in an attempt to calm him down.
"Shhh, it's alright, buddy. I'm not mad, it was just an accident. I'm sorry if I scared you," he said gently, guilt writhing in his stomach.
"I think I'm gonna puke again," Peter sobbed, looking around trying to find a way out.
"It's okay if you do, Pete. Just breathe, okay? Don't worry about the car, it can be cleaned."
"Sorry, m'such an idiot," he cried into his hands sadly. "I thought he finally liked me." Tony thought his heart was going to shatter.
"Don't you dare say that, Pete. You're not an idiot, you're one of the smartest kids I've ever met. Flash is the one with the problem, not you, kiddo." Ned shifted in the seat behind him, and Tony felt his face burn. He had forgotten that they weren't alone. Tony swallowed before making up his mind, he wasn't about to let his pride stand in the way of taking care of his kid.
"Why does he hate me so much?" Peter continued to cry into his hands, making Tony wish he had beat the ever living shit out of Flash. He had seen the bruise starting to form on his face, and Ned's swollen knuckles made a surge of fondness for Peter's friend go through him. Peter looked down at the mess he'd made of himself and whimpered. "God, m'so gross."
"No you're not, buddy. It's alright. I need you to calm down for me, Pete, before you make yourself sick again." He kept rubbing small circles on Peter's back as they drove.
When they finally pulled up to the tower, Peter sat in the seat quietly, his sobs dying down to hiccups. Tony threw his seatbelt off and walked around the car to help Peter get out. Tony's stomach clenched as he opened the door, nausea threatening to take over. Vomit covered Peter's the bottom half of his shirt, lap, and shoes, but the carpet had taken the worst of it. Not to mention his pants were still soaked and was likely seeping into the seat's fabric. Tony steeled himself, this wasn't about him, it was about Peter and he needed his help. The kid fumbled with his seatbelt for several moments before Tony reached over and popped it open for him. His heart ached at Peter's red rimmed eyes, and Tony patted him on the back.
"Come on, Pete, let's get you cleaned up." He dragged his feet out of the car and leaned heavily against the doorframe, evidently still dizzy.
"Can't," he whimpered, eyes closed.
"It's okay, I'm going to help you, okay?" Peter nodded, so Tony grabbed his arms and slowly helped him to his feet. He tried to take a step, but stumbled forward and fell against Tony's chest. He caught the kid just in time and wrapped his left arm tightly around Peter's waist, bearing some of his weight. Ned was standing beside the car uncertainly, clearly not sure what to do. Tony jerked his head toward the door.
"Come on, let's get that nose looked at." After a significant amount of effort, Tony managed to get Peter up the stairs and into the elevator. When they staggered into the medbay, he couldn't say he blamed Bruce for the incredulous look on his face. He knew they must be quite a sight.
"What the hell happened, Tony? FRIDAY said it was important, but she didn't tell me much. Is Peter drunk?"
"Heeeeyy Bruce," Peter said, his eyes partly closed. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Wait, why aren't you green? M'ser Stark shouldn' he be green?"
"I think that answers your question, Banner. Anyway, it's a long story. Mind checking his BAC?"
"Sure thing," Bruce said, rummaging through a drawer and grabbed a small device out before holding it in front of Peter. "Blow into this, please." Peter did so, and when the machine beeped, Bruce checked the small screen and whistled.
"0.18, that's pretty high."
"Is he going to be alright?" Bruce let out a chuckle.
"Oh he'll be fine, with his levels of metabolic activity from the mutation he'd need about a gallon of pure vodka to overdose. But he'll be feeling it tomorrow, just like the rest of us."
"I didn' drink that much M'ser S'ark. Jus- had a few…" He mumbled, his eyes already drooping closed. Tony rolled his eyes and readjusted his grip on the kid.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Spiderling. Come on," Tony started guiding him out of the room. "Can you check his friend out? Thinks his nose if broken. I'm gonna go take care of drunkie, here." Bruce snapped some rubber gloves on and motioned for Ned to sit on a nearby table.
"Of course. And what's your name?" He asked as he started prodding the skin tenderly. Ned winced at the touch.
"I'm Ned. Aren't you the Hulk?" Bruce smiled at his obvious excitement.
"Only on my bad days. Fortunately, today isn't one of them or I'm afraid I wouldn't be much help to you at the moment."
"Oh my gosh, that's so cool! What does it feel like? Are you conscious when it happens or is it like a blackout?" Ned continued to excitedly rattle off questions, seemingly unbothered by his injury for the moment.
Satisfied that Peter's friend would be taken care of, Tony headed back to the elevators, correcting Peter's balance every couple of steps. As they were riding up, Tony frowned when he realised that his shirt felt damp. It didn't take long to register that vomit had been smeared onto his own shirt, and he grimaced slightly. He reminded himself that it wasn't the kid's fault and stepped onto the residential floor.
"Where are we going?" Peter asked as they made their way to Tony's room. The bathroom there was the largest one on this floor, and he knew they'd need as much space as they could get.
"To get you out of these clothes and hopefully into the shower."
"Oh, m'kay." They were nearly there when Peter shifted in his grip. "Gotta pee."
"Alright, hang on. Almost there." Tony quickened their pace and as much he could. His pants were already a goner anyway, but if Peter didn't make it he knew he'd be crying again, and that was the last thing Tony wanted.
They had finally staggered through the master bedroom, and into the bathroom when Peter whined and crossed his legs. Knowing they didn't have much time, Tony had Peter hold onto his shoulders while he hurriedly undid his belt for him. He knew the kid would never make it if he tried to do it himself. When it was open, he averted his eyes before pulling the fabric down and sitting him on the toilet.
"Wait, m'not a girl M'ser S'ark," Peter said, confusion evident on his face. He moved to get up, but Tony steadied him with a firm hand on his shoulder.
"No shit, kid," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "But do you really think standing is such a good idea right now?" The simplicity of that logic seemed to penetrate Peter's foggy mind and he shook his head. "Okay, I'm going to step out. Call me when you're done."
Tony didn't wait for a response as he left the bathroom, face burning. This was beyond weird, and he was pretty sure that this situation hadn't been spelled out in the internship contract he had signed. But what was he going to do? Lock the kid in a guest room and wish him luck? Hell no. Peter needed him right now, and if he was drunk off his ass, Tony knew without a doubt Peter would do the same for him. Though he prayed it never came to that, Tony was certain the mortification alone would kill him.
"M'done, M'ser S'ark," Peter slurred from the bathroom. Tony came back into the room to see Peter leaning precariously to the right, and he was thankful the kid hadn't fallen off.
"Okay, kid. Now let's get you out of these clothes, I'm sure they aren't very comfortable." Tony knelt and started untying Peter's shoes while the kid struggled with his shirt. When both of them were off, he tugged his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off.
"Don' look," Peter said, tossing the wet shirt onto the tile floor.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Pete," Tony promised, looking at the ceiling as he helped Peter stand and shuffle over to the large shower.
Peter sat quietly on Tony's bed in fresh pajamas, struggling to keep his eyes open. It had been tricky, but he had managed to get the kid clean, though he made Peter sit under the spray of water. The last thing he needed was for him to slip and bash his head open. Tony brought a warm washcloth and a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the bathroom and sat beside him on the bed. Wetting the rag, Tony began gently rubbing at the marker off Peter's cheek. He was halfway done with his forehead, when Peter's face suddenly crumpled.
"What's wrong, buddy? I didn't get any of this in your eyes, did I?" A tear rolled down his cheek, quickly followed by more.
"I miss Uncle Ben." Tony sighed, tossing the rag and bottle onto the comforter at Peter's words.
"I know you do," he said softly, his heart clenching at the sadness all over Peter's face.
"H-he always took care of me when I was sick. Just like this," he sniffed, tears dripping onto the comforter.
Suddenly, Peter turned and wrapped his arms around Tony in a hug, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Tony returned it without a second thought and held him tightly.
"Shhhhh, it's alright. You're okay, you're alright," Tony soothed, carding his fingers through Peter's wet hair.
"He was jus' always there for me, and now he's not," he wept sadly. Tony didn't say anything and just held him. Hell, what could he say to that?
"I know," Tony eventually managed, his chest aching.
"But tha's okay, m'not alone anymore," he sniffled.
"What do you mean, buddy?"
"Got you now," Peter said simply before hugging him harder. Tony's throat tightened, if he hadn't been speechless before, he certainly was now. Tony figured it must be the alcohol talking.
Sure, he mentored the kid a little and let him help in his workshop from time to time, but he certainly wasn't a father figure. He was a terrible role model and was pretty pathetic with kids, but Peter didn't seem to care about any of those things.
Peter sniffled and Tony looked down at his intern that had him in a deathgrip, letting out a sigh. Who was he kidding? The kid was so much more than that, he was- well he was just Peter: a goofy kid from Queens who had somehow managed to squeeze his way into Tony's life. As much as he hated to admit it, Tony couldn't deny the warmth that began sprouting in his chest at Peter's admission. He remembered the late nights they'd spent together tweaking the kid's suit, eating their weight in ice cream, and training together. Tony smiled softly to himself, he knew he definitely wouldn't have spent his Friday night like this for just any intern.
"Yeah, it looks like you do, kiddo," he said, resting a hand on top of Peter's head. The kid sighed contently and relaxed against him, and they sat that way for some time.
"Alright, Pete, before you zonk out, at least let me get the rest of this crap off of your face. Can't have you looking like some shitty rapper." Peter whined at being dislodged from Tony's arms, and let him wipe the rest of the sharpie off. When Tony was done, the kid all but collapsed back into the bed, asleep before he hit the pillow.
"Well good night to you too, Underoos," Tony snorted before making sure Peter was laying on his side in case he got sick again. Tossing a blanket over him, Tony grabbed the small trash can from beside his desk and put it on the floor next to the bed. Tony yawned and looked at his watch, it was almost three o'clock in the morning. He curled up in the armchair sitting beside the bathroom door and watched the blanket steadily rise and fall with Peter's breathing. Tony was asleep before he knew it.
Peter cracked his eyes open and he immediately regretted doing so. The sunlight peering in through the window sent a sharp stab of pain through his head. All of his senses felt like they were dialed up to eleven, and he was pretty sure there was an ice pick being driven through his skull. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and his stomach felt like it was going to turn inside out at any moment. He groaned and closed his eyes when the room started to move.
Peter could feel acid beginning to creep up the back of his throat, and his swallowed thickly trying to prevent the inevitable. He didn't know where he was, and he was pretty sure whoever's bed he was laying in wouldn't appreciate him puking all over it. Tears pricked his eyes and he gagged, but thankfully nothing came up. He leaned over the bed and retched again, dreading the splattering that would accompany it as it hit the floor. But it never came.
"Easy, kid. Let it out, I got you." Peter snapped his eyes back open, he'd know that voice anywhere. Mister Stark was holding a bin up to his mouth and rubbing his back. How the hell did he get here?
"What hap-" Peter was cut off as he was sick again, though it was only bile at this point. Each heave made his head pound even harder.
"Don't try to speak. Thanks for the warning gag by the way, gave me time to grab this." Finally he spit the last of the saliva into the trashcan and fell back onto the bed, utterly exhausted. "How are you feeling?"
"Ugghh, my head," Peter groaned.
"Yeah, that's what I thought, kiddo. Welcome to the final stage of a fun night: regret."
"What happened?" He asked, eyes buried in the crook of his elbow.
"Does a college party ring any bells?"
Yeah, it did. Hazy images flicked through his mind, the loud music, the alcohol, Flash punching Ned, his pants getting warm, the car ride. Oh God, the car ride. His face flushed as the rest of the memories filled his head, he had cried on Mister Stark. Peter didn't think he'd ever live it down.
"Oh no," he groaned. "Mister Stark, I'm so sorry. I was so stupid."
"Yeah, that was pretty stupid, Pete," the man chuckled and sat on the bed beside him. "But definitely not the end of the world, I'm just glad you're okay."
"Sorry I puked all over your car," Peter cringed. "And your seat…" He couldn't get himself to say it.
"Eh, not a big deal, kiddo," Mister Stark waved the apology away. "I have to admit, I've given several of my other cars the same treatment and they survived." Peter nodded, and the man suddenly put his hand to his ear, listening to whoever was speaking in the piece.
"Yeah, send him up."
Peter suddenly felt all the blood rush to his feet. Flash had been recording him the whole time last night, tears began to well in his eyes again. The whole school must have seen him pissing himself like a toddler by now.
"Whoa, what's going on, bud? Talk to me." He looked down and he felt a gentle hand land on his shoulder. Peter shook his head and sniffled. This was all so embarrassing.
"Come on, Pete, it's okay, really. I'm not mad, everything's going to be fine." Peter felt a surge of anger and humiliation. Of course Mister Stark wouldn't understand, MJ was going to see it. Oh God, he'd never be able to look her in the face again.
"No it's not! Flash-" Peter struggled with himself for a few moments, the anger was suddenly replaced with despair. "Everyone's gonna know," he finally choked out. He could not, for the life of him, fathom why Mister Stark suddenly started laughing.
"What?"
"Oh, you won't have to worry about that. Actually, he won't be bothering you ever again."
"Huh?"
"Let's just say, I scared him a little."
"A little? He did more than that, Peter, I thought Flash was going to faint!" Peter jerked his head up to see Ned walking through the door, smile plastered on his face. "You should have seen it, it was totally awesome. Had his blaster shoved in his face and everything!"
"Really? You did that for me?" Peter asked, turning to his idol.
"Course I did, Underoos. Made sure he deleted the video and everything. See? No sweat." The relief made Peter want to laugh and cry at the same time. "Speaking of which, I need to go check my email," Tony said with a glint in his eye that Peter didn't understand. "Why don't you two keep each other company for awhile?" The man headed for the door, but stopped and looked back. "And, Ned? Thanks for calling me, I owe you one." He watched Mr. Stark leave and Ned plopped down at the foot of his bed, beaming. Shame sat heavily in his stomach when he saw the bandage on his best friend's face.
"Ned, I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you. If you don't want to be my friend anymore, I understand," Peter said dejectedly, staring hard at the blanket. Ned had told him it was a bad idea as soon as Flash invited them, but he hadn't listened. Now his friend had a broken nose, and it was all his fault.
"Dude, shut up. It doesn't even hurt that bad anymore, see?" He poked the bandage hard and winced. "Okay, that was a lie. It still hurts, but I don't care. I wasn't just gonna let Flash do all that to you, you're my best friend, Peter, I'll always have your back. Plus, after all these years I got to finally deck him, it felt awesome." Peter laughed with him, relieved he hadn't lost Ned. "And I got to ride in Tony Stark's car, meet Doctor Banner, and sleep at the Avengers' hideout? Not to mention Stark said he owed me one. I'm basically having a nerdgasm."
"Gross dude," Peter laughed. "And thanks, for...you know."
"Anytime, Spiderman. Just doing my duty as the guy in the chair." Ned turned and reached into his backpack. "Oh yeah, Doctor Banner said you'd probably need this when you woke up."
Ned handed him a water bottle and a bottle of Tums.
"Oh, thank God. It feels like I have sand in my mouth," Peter said, quickly taking a huge swig. "You're the best, man." Ned smiled and laid back, horizontally across the foot of the bed.
"I know."