A quick one shot to add before my next actual story! I've read a lot of stories involving Peter getting drunk and decided to do my own spin on it. Enjoy~

Drip

Drip

Drip

Peter giggled from his place on the bathroom floor. The cold linoleum under him seemed to make him shake as he brought his trembling hands up to his face in curiosity. He dropped them in an instant and rested his head back against the nearest wall he was leaning against, right in front of the leaking sink.

He smiled despite the oncoming sickness in his sore stomach. "I made it home! I act'lly made it home!" His excitement was short lived as a hesitant knock on the bathroom door resided, Aunt May.

Shit.

"Hey Peter, I'm leaving for my shift now- are you feeling ok? It's really late for you to be up." Her voice was gentle as always, a special kind of tone reserved only for Peter.

Peter grinned at his caring aunts concern, it was nice to be loved. He cleared his throat knowing he had to play this just right or he would be in a load of trouble. "I'm fine May, have a good shift! Love you!"

This seemed to satisfy her as she was heard getting her jacket on, "Love you too Peter! I'll bring us some breakfast in the morning! Get some sleep." And just like that, she was gone.

Peter giggled again, "And I got away with it! I'm so good!" He took this time to slip his phone out of his hoodie pocket, it had been going off like crazy, but he was too scared to make any unusual sounds before May left.

12:00AM: NED- Dude, where are you? People at the party said you left! You're drunk!

12:02AM: NED- Peter please answer me.

12:10AM: NED- I'm really freaking out dude!

12:15AM: MJ- Peter I am going to kill you, you are scaring everyone, did you actually leave or not?

12:30AM: NED- I'm sorry Peter, I had to call Mr. Stark, I don't want you to get in trouble but I'm scared.

12:32M: MJ- Yep, I'm going to kill you.

12:40AM: MR. STARK- Stay where you are.

Peters stomach dropped, he squinted to make sure he had read the screen right as he struggled to hold his phone now. Logically there was no way he should move from the spot he was in, his drunken mind though… "I gatta get out of here."

His limbs were anything but cooperative as he tried to get up, white hot pain erupted from his abdomen as he moved. "Ah! W-what the hell?!"

It was then that Peter realized the gravity of the situation, his stomach was more than sore. He was more than sick, more than dizzy, more than giggly. He hadn't gotten home scotch free after all. He looked down in horror as he scrambled to sit upright, his eyes taking in the blood staining his shirt and jeans.

His breathing hitched, a whimper tore its way through him as he grabbed at the knife protruding from his stomach, trying in vain to pull it out. His energy was spent as his arm involuntarily fell to the side.

"I-I don't r'member…how…h-how?!" He chocked out, trying to calm himself with little success.

He was hyperventilating by now, he could not understand why he didn't remember getting fucking stabbed! And why he still couldn't feel it! He does however remember taking a shortcut that usually always worked when he was Spiderman- then again now that he thought about it he was always swinging above this end of town- not walking through it. Unarmed and alone- and drunk to top it off.

"Oh God…Oh God…" He couldn't get up, the world was spinning whether he closed his eyes or not, everything was tilting- that's when he realized slowly that he had fallen on his side, his face now buried in his own blood as he fought to sit back up.

He knew this was bad, and yet he fought a giggle once more. He didn't know if it was shock or drunkenness at this point. Frankly, he was terrified either way, he knew he was too far gone, and he felt it.

He couldn't even fight enough to sit up again, "this is how m'ganna go out huh?" Tears came but none spilled, he was too drunk to even care at this point as depression started to slowly ebb at his resolve.

His hope was slowly waning as he closed his eyes and reopened them over and over- trying in vain to get the world to stop spinning. He knew he had drank too much, two bottles of Smirnoff did seem a little excessive in hindsight.

A knock.

Another sob.

"Kid?!"

Peter let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding as the slightly concerned voice broke out loudly behind the door.

"You in there? Come on out, you're already in trouble there's no use in hiding…I know your drunk too so don't even try to-"

"H-help me. Please." Peter found he barely had the energy to do much at this point as his voice gave in on itself.

All humor was gone from the voice now, "Peter, open the door and I can, please."

"Can't reach.. door."

The door cracked open on its hinges immediately, revealing a paling Tony Stark in a stained AC/DC shirt and work pants from the lab.

"Peter Parker you are so dead- Oh my God…What the hell.. they said you left a party drunk! What the hell…Pete-"

"Took a…shortcut…didn't work out I guess."

"Ok…" An audible gasp as Tony slowly pulled Peter on his back by his shoulder. "Shit Peter- ok, ok, FRIDAY contact Bruce immediately with a personal ambulance NOW. Stay with me Pete."

"M'really sorry Mi'ter Stark. Thought I was ok!" Peter felt his breath hitch again as he stared at his mentor's light work pants slowly stain with his own blood.

"Hey! Hey. Eyes on me, ok? You will be ok, I'm here now and Bruce is on the way."

"I didn't mean to."

"I know kid, I know."

The next few moments faded in and out for the teen, one moment he was lying in a puddle of his own blood and the next he felt quick shoving on his chest.

"P..eter! Peter do…nt you dare g..ive up!"

Give up? Shit, he was dying.

Next thing he felt was horrific, but he couldn't seem to move, a plastic device being shoved down his throat, needles felt pricking at his skin, tags and nose pieces and masks- too much, too much.

Then things went silent. They went silent for what felt like five minutes when his eyes decided to open on their own accord.

"Thank God."

His eyes were wide now, as he looked over at an exhausted Tony Stark. "Hi Mr. Stark." He coughed.

"You really made me stay awake for two days just for that, huh? Worth it." Stark quipped, "how you feeling?"

There was something about the question that held this tension, this unease, like Peter was missing 75% of the story here. "What happened?"

"You want the long or short version?"

"Short." He didn't want to drag this out.

"You got black out drunk, ran off on your own, got stabbed!" A moment of glaring took place, "then you somehow made it home and nearly died on your bathroom floor in fact you did di-" Stark got choked up, THE Tony Stark choked up as he continued, "technically. You legally were dead for about thirty seconds until we got you back, longest damn thirty seconds of my life, kid. You have been out for almost two days now, and your aunt thinks you're on a visit here."

"Wow."

"Wow? That's it?"

"I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen...I don't really know what to say."

Tony sighed, "I think I have learned by now that the whole lecture thing doesn't work- besides, this seems to have been punishment enough. But let me point out for future reference that you can always ALWAYS call me if you need a ride, ok? You're not bothering me, pestering, annoying- whatever you think you are to me- you're not. I will gladly take a few hours out of my night if it means you get home and taken care of safely. Ok?"

Peter smiled, despite almost dying, it was touching, the whole situation. Tony Stark was becoming more and more of a father figure every day and for once, in this hospital room with Peter still hooked up to every medical machine known to man and Tony verging sleep exhaustion, both were completely at peace with such a fact.