Tumbling Down
Peter hands shook as he tipped the prescription bottle, letting a pile of pills fall into his palm—Ativan, not his favorite, but it would do. He got them wherever he could. These he'd slipped from May's old stash. She started needing them after Ben's death. Thankfully, she hadn't noticed the few missing here and there. He wasn't going to admit he had a problem. No, this wasn't a problem—it was a solution.
He tossed them in his mouth, chewing them, grimacing at the bitter taste. Within minutes, a lightness spread through him. It wouldn't last long with his metabolism, but he'd already discovered a way to enhance the effect—vodka. He walked over to his bed and pulled out a half empty bottle of cheap vodka he'd lifted from a homeless guy. He'd rationalized he was helping him. Lately, his morals had started falling into a gray area.
He took a few gulps of the burning liquid. It felt good. He sat back on his bed and lay back, bottle in hand and closed his eyes. May wouldn't be home for hours. She had picked up extra shifts at work to make ends meet.
After a few more pulls from the bottle, he twisted the lid back on the bottle and pushed himself back to sitting. The room wobbled for a moment. He relished this feeling. He felt free of the stress, free of the memories of the Ben, free of the memories of Toomes, free from the reality of his life. It was his escape. He figured the universe owned him that.
He stood and stripped off his clothes, slipping on his suit. The drugs and alcohol numbed his overactive senses in a way nothing else could. He tossed the bottle of pills and vodka under his bed. He'd never taken this many pills at once before. He hoped the high would last.
He pulled his mask down over his face and climbed out the window.
"Good evening, Peter," Karen said pleasantly.
"Hey, Karen," he answered. "Can you do me a favor and just chill tonight? It's nothing personal but I'd rather no interruptions for a while."
"Of course," she replied.
"And you think you can turn off the baby monitor protocol for a few hours?"
"You know that I am unable to do that, Peter. Need I remind you that your ability to keep the suit depends on Mr. Stark having full access to missions."
Peter rolled his eyes. She was killing his high. "Fine, never mind, just give me some space, alright?"
"I understand," said the AI. "Going silent."
Peter climbed up to the top of the apartment building. His head light and warm. He knew it would be gone soon but he wanted to enjoy it. He laid down on the ledge, looking up at the sky. The moon was bright. He felt sluggish and he could still taste the residue of the pills in his mouth.
It felt like no more than a few minutes went by when Karen's voice was buzzing in his ear.
He groaned. When had he fallen asleep?
"Initiating call now …"
"Whoa, wait …" Peter tried to sit up and nearly from the ledge. He felt sick. This wasn't right. He'd done this before, maybe less pills, but still, shouldn't his metabolism have burned them off?
The skyline swam in his vision. The lights too bright now.
"Parker, I'm two minutes out? What's going on?" the all too familiar voice of Tony Stark came over the line.
Shit, Peter thought.
"Language, kid."
Had he said that out loud?
"Yes, you did, that time too. Wanna tell me why your bradycardic?"
"Huh?" Peter asked, his mind was fuzzy.
Peter tried to get up again and nearly fell.
"Don't worry about it. I see you now. I'll be there in t-minus," Tony said.
Peter rolled his head and looked to see the Iron Man suit coming his way. He wondered if it was empty. He preferred it was. He tried to sit up again, and again, nearly slipped from the ledge.
The suit landed with a thud beside him. The mask flipped open to show Tony's concerned face.
"What's going on, Peter?"
Peter shook his head. "M'fine. Just trying to get away from shit, what's it to you?"
"Excuse me?" Tony asked. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that attitude since I'm here saving your ass. Now, tell me what's going on?"
Peter felt sweaty and his vision swam.
"Go away," Peter said. It came out more like a slur than he intended.
"Are you drunk?"
Peter wasn't in the mood for this. It was bringing down his high, reminding him too much of the bullshit he wanted to get away from. He pushed himself to stand, but the sudden change of position caused him to stubble back and he slipped from the roof.
Falling felt good—until a pair of strong arms picked him from the sky.
"Fuck," Peter cursed. "Just let me go."
There was no answer from Tony other than a tightening of his grip. They took off into the sky. Peter knew where they were headed—the tower. They touched down on the balcony and Peter yanked himself from Iron Man's grip, pulling his mask off.
"Don't think you're going anywhere kid," Tony said sharply, stepping out of his suit.
Peter was feeling bit clearer. "It's not like you care."
"Don't go pulling that martyr bullshit on me, Parker," Tony said. "What the fuck is going on with you? Last time we talked, things seemed fine."
"I was probably high," Peter snapped.
"You were probably what?" the older man snapped. "So, you just decided to use drugs? Are you high now? What are you on?"
Peter shrugged. He honestly wasn't in the mood for twenty questions.
Tony crossed his arms, staring Peter down. "Easy way or the hard way. You pick. I'm gonna find out what you're taking and why."
Peter stared at Tony, and Tony held his gaze, his eyes intense and dark, challenging. Finally, Peter looked away. He just didn't have the energy for this.
"Speak," Tony commanded.
Peter ran a hand through his hair. His senses were becoming sharper and his high was nearly gone. He just wanted another drink but figured Tony would lose his shit if he walked over to the bar and helped himself.
"It's just some pills and maybe a little drinking, nothing I can't handle."
Tony looked incredulous, his mouth opening and closing but no words falling out. After a moment he seemed to come back to himself and Peter wished he hadn't.
"Just some fucking pills? Who's pills? What kind?"
"Benzos mostly. Why does it matter?"
Tony ran a hand through his hair. "You're done with the suit until this shit gets sorted. You know how fucking dangerous it is to mix benzos and alcohol? No wonder you were bradycardic. What the actual fuck, Peter?"
"Look, you want the suit, you can have it. I don't care," Peter said. "I got nothing to wear home, so you'll have to pick it up later."
"I've got to tell your Aunt." Tony murmured, pulling out his phone.
"You can't!" Peter snapped.
"Look, kid, adult talking, zip it. As far as I'm concerned you need serious help and this is beyond me. I thought you were smarter than this." Tony was already dialing.
"Please." Peter's attitude shifted as Tony began speaking to his Aunt, explaining the situation. "Don't do this, please." It was too late though. He could here May on the other end crying. He'd let down another person.
Peter ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. He watched Tony pace the room, talking furiously to his Aunt. He had to get away. He glanced at the balcony door; it was still open. His heart hammered in his chest. Maybe this would be fruitless, but he had to try. As soon as Tony turned his back, Peter ran and dove off the ledge of the balcony, arms outspread, letting the air rush by him as the ground grew closer. He closed his eyes and let the feeling of freedom fill him.