Disclaimer: If I was a rich girl, nananananananananananananaaaaa I would own everything in this story. But I'm not, so I don't :,(
Holy crap it's almost been a month since I've poster a chapter :O I'm so sorry I've just been sooo tangled up with everything, especially cuz now I'm having to study to take the *shudders* SAT. Ew. But yay, I finally cranked the party chapter out! It's pretty cute I think, but also has reason behind it, so it's not just random fan service filler crap (well not in my opinion) :) Theres a bit of awko-taconess at the beginning that was kind of awko-taco for me to write because I'm an awkward person, but whatever, it's just how that character is I guess...you'll get it when u read it i hope. So yeah, read it please. :)
Chapter 26
Peter Parker had never been to a party.
Not an actual party, anyway. When he was in fifth grade he went to Harry Osborn's eleventh birthday celebration at his father's gigantic mansion before his friend was sent off to boarding school, but he didn't think that really counted.
It's not that there wasn't a surplus available for him to attend at almost any time, as there was, seeing that he was in high school, in New York, where there were night clubs and bars around every corner. He just had never really been into that sort of thing, especially before becoming Spider-Man, when he had been embarrassingly shy and was widely perceived as too much of a dork to ever be caught dead at any party. But even after procuring his heroic second identity, he was far too busy with his late-night crime-fighting to do anything outlandishly social, and had always been perfectly fine with that. Parties just weren't what he considered "fun", and he had always found a way to get out of ever going to one. That is, until now.
As night fell, and everything was finished being set up, people finally began to arrive. Pretty soon, the attendees were pouring in by the bucket loads, yet Peter stalled from going out to meet the crowds for as long as possible. He took a long shower, messed with his hair in the mirror for an hour, hung upside-down in the middle of the ceiling for a while playing Tetris on his phone, until finally forcing himself to slump down the hidden staircase to Tony Stark's workshop. After a a few minutes of aimless wandering, he discovered the display area where all of the Avengers' uniforms were kept. Most of them were missing, although there were a couple variants of the original suits still present, such as a baby blue Captain America costume that was more flashier then he thought appropriate, as well as a plethora of Iron Man armors of all shapes, colors, and sizes, which he took a moment to gaze upon with awe.
Lastly, he arrived at the newly added section designated for himself, where he found the extra Spider-Man costumes Stark had mentioned. He was surprised by how wide the selection he was presented with was. Some of them were the original pattern he normally donned except with different colors, others were designs Tony had obviously fashioned himself that were either incredibly interesting or downright bizarre, and still others were suits that didn't even looked like they belonged to Spider-Man at all, besides being made of spandex, that made him chuckle. He considered trying on the inversely-colored Spidey suit or the black costume with red webbing detailing, because both looked really cool, but eventually caved and selected the suit that most closely resembled the classic Spider-Man's look, seeing as that was the one the public was most familiar with.
As he slipped himself into the form-fitting material, however, he wondered if that was such a good thing. Did he really even want to be recognized by anybody? Did he seriously want to go out there to face all of those people, especially after what he had caused? He hadn't forgotten that everything that had plagued the city over the last few weeks had been all thanks to him, even if he hadn't meant for it to happen, and had done everything he could to stop it. The fact that no one else blamed him for it almost made it worst, almost made him wish that he'd receive some sort of punishment or condemnation, but he found beating himself up about it didn't suffice. He supposed he just had to learn to forgive himself, just as Stark had, just as Bruce had, just as Clint and Natasha had, and just as everyone else in the world who had encountered failure had. And, just the same, he had to keep doing good however and whenever he could, and continue fighting evil no matter where it arose from. That's what the Avengers needed, that's what the world needed, and that's what his Uncle Ben would've wanted.
Geez, Parker, Peter thought to himself, finally giving in and slipping his mask over his face. So much angst over a little party. Just relax. You've got this. Totally. Yeah.
Spider-Man stared at himself in the conveniently placed mirror for a moment, admiring the costume's startlingly vibrant colors and exquisite craftsmanship miserably, then heaved a lofty sigh. Everyone was probably wondering where he was at this point. He supposed he had put this off long enough. He had Natasha and her damn bet to own up to, and not paying up his end of the deal would probably end up biting him in the ass in some even more torturous manner. The thought made him shudder, how the famous Black Widow would assert her revenge for his absence, and caused him to immediately spin around, march up the stairs, unlock the door, release a shaky breath, then enter the opposing room.
Peter could barely comprehend what was going on around him. It was a violent wave of sensual overload coming from every direction at once, and his flustered mind couldn't decide what to focus on. The flashing strobe lights illuminating what looked like thousands of dancing figures, the ghastly club music blasting from the ceiling so loud that his eardrums ached, the sickly aroma hanging in the air bred from a mixture alcohol, cheap perfume, and body odor, the beat of the bass throbbing in rhythm to his rapid heartbeat, or perhaps the sour taste in his mouth that he suddenly became aware of. Spider-Man swallowed laboriously.
Was it too late to go strap himself back to the bed and pretend to be dead again?
"Ooh," a voice suddenly cooed, rising above the roar of the party and startling him from his paralyzed trance. "That's one slick costume, Spidey."
Peter glanced to his left in surprise, and found there to be silhouette of a figure leaning against the wall beside him. It was hard to tell from the flashing lights, as his eyes couldn't adjust between the darkness and the brightness quick enough so that he could see exceptionally well, but in the short moments that the light illuminated the room, he absorbed the person who was speaking to him. He narrowed his eyes a little bit, wondering how they knew right away that it was actually him, seeing that the crowd was lousy with people dressed up in cheap Spider-Man costumes, but he didn't dwell on it much. After a moment of hesitation, he finally spoke.
"Thanks. I can't take the credit, though—Tony Stark's the one-man sewing circle for the Avengers."
The light flickered across the mysterious figure's face, alighting her bright blue eyes and revealing the sultry smile spread across her lips.
"Well, Tony has an artistic eye. But it's you who's filling it out so well."
Peter didn't really know how to respond to this. He scratched the back of his head. "Uh, thank you. I guess."
The woman then lifted off the wall and strode towards him, swirling the liquid around in the glass she held in her hand. Spider-Man took an instinctive step backwards, feeling a bit uncomfortable as she stopped directly in front of him. She was wearing a skin-tight black dress, short and glossy and incredibly revealing. Her hair was long and wavy, reaching past the small of her back, and so bleach-blonde that it was basically white. He could smell her expensively-fragranced perfume from a mile away. She had on bright red high-heels and black gloves, and she stared up at Peter with a playful smirk on her face. Out of nowhere, she laid her hands on his shoulders, her face mere inches from his own.
"Why so bashful?" she inquired, smiling and speaking with a coquettish slur to her words. "Haven't you ever been complimented before? Surely you must be all the time, being you, after all."
Peter just sat there awkwardly for a moment, his hands down at his sides while the stranger curled her arms around his back and interlaced her fingers against his spine, then quickly came to his senses. Forcing a nervous laugh, he pulled back from her reach and swallowed laboriously, his face suddenly feeling hot.
"No, me?" he stammered, balling his hands together behind his back innocently. "Please. Praise is a bit foreign to your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, what with most people considering me a menace and all. Guess that's just a downside of wearing a mask and a spider-themed onesie all the time."
The girl chuckled lightly, advancing towards him again and bridging the gap he had only just created between them. "Oh, don't be so modest. From what I've seen, you're quite the little catch in this town."
Peter took another skittish step backwards, growing increasingly uneasy beneath the girl's fiercely alluring gaze, only to feel his back bump against the wall. He glanced over his shoulder in surprise, realizing that he was trapped, and winced when he felt a pair of fingertips press against the spider design on his chest.
"What you've seen, huh?" he continued, trying to dilute how uncomfortable she was making him with some playful banter as usual. "So have you been spying on me or something?"
"Who needs to spy?" she replied vampishly. She slowly traipsed her fingers up his wiry frame, enjoying the shiver that shot through him from her delicate touch. "You're the gab of every person in the city and every paper off the street. Doesn't take much for a girl to catch the drift."
A bright flash of light came from their left, dousing the woman in an brilliant glow so that he could see her in her entirety, and Peter swallowed. As much as he hated himself for thinking it, she was astonishingly beautiful—but not really in the way he was keen to. Her captivating appearance was paraded before him with no filter whatsoever, fierce and direct and demanding attention, almost to the point of being intimidating. It was nothing like the soft and perfect beauty of Gwen Stacy, which needed no outlandish display to be utterly breathtaking. Also, his girlfriend's elegance flowed from inside of her rather than being something with only face value, and that to him was what made her the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld. He knew for certain that he would never betray Gwen for some random lady in a skimpy dress, or anyone for that matter, but was yet finding it difficult to keep himself from going red at the sight of her. As if she could read his mind, the girl laid her hand against his cheek and batted her crystal-blue eyes, her entire body at this point leaning right into his.
"My friendly neighborhood Spider-Man wouldn't happen to be blushing underneath that mask right now, would he?" she purred, curling her other arm around his neck to drum her long nails against his nape, which immediately made him cringe as goosebumps erupted from under his skin. His hands laid flat against the wall, and his prickly flesh felt itchy beneath his spandex costume. He opened his mouth to deny it, but was interrupted by her slippery smooth voice once more.
"Why don't we find out?" she whispered, and Peter suddenly felt her fingers slip underneath the fabric of his mask. She began to slowly slide it upwards as she leaned her face towards his, her eyes fluttering shut. Spider-Man watched as her ruby-red lips approached his own, imprisoned in a trance-like haze from her intoxicating aroma and soothing voice, but broke from the spell at the last moment. In a flash, he leapt off the floor, barely dodging her puckered lips, and executed a quick backflip before sticking to the wall high above her head. She stood frozen for a moment, blinking in surprise, then carefully raised her eyes to where he laid, his body parallel to the sideways surface.
"Sorry, madam, but I'm not that kind of spider," he told her with a strained chuckle, pulling his mask back over his chin. "Couldn't let my pretty face be spoiled so easy. And anyway, I'm afraid this little hero has already been taken, so you'll have to find someone else to entice. That shouldn't be too hard for you, right?"
To his dismay, the woman's expression procured a powerful curiosity. "Oh really? So, Spidey's already got himself a girl, does he?" She laughed softly. "Well, that certainly makes this interesting. After all, love is never fun without a little competition."
Peter sighed exasperatedly. "This isn't love. This is weird, awkward, one-sided flirtation between strangers. So, an episode of The Bachelor basically: Spidey edition."
The woman tsked under her breath, smiling mischievously. "You keep telling yourself that, Spider-Man. I can read a boy like a magazine, and I know when one is incubating a full-blown, real-deal, head-over-heels crush on me. Just face it, darling—you've been bitten, and it's spreading fast."
Peter glared at her from above, becoming increasingly irritated as she smirked up at him confidently, when she took a step back. After scooping up her glass and downing the rest of her drink, she turned on her heels and began walking back towards the crowd. Just before vanishing into the mob, however, she stopped, placed a hand on her hip, and glanced over her shoulder, smiling hypnotically as colorful lights danced off her body from every direction.
"Tell your girl to keep a sharp eye on you," she told him with a wink, twirling a finger through her silvery-white hair, "and that she'd better watch her back. And don't worry, Spidey. This won't be the last time we meet. Our paths will cross again soon, whenever you least expect it."
With that, she blew him a kiss, and with a purposeful turn, she strode into the pulsating horde, melting into the blur of chaos and leaving him as he was high upon the wall. Just like that, the mysterious woman was gone. The tenseness of the air dissipated somewhat, and Spider-Man felt himself relax a bit. He was incredibly relieved to be finally freed from underneath her enchanting gaze. He had never met someone so dangerously seductive before, and he hoped he wouldn't see her again anytime soon. He wished Gwen was with him at that moment, but at the same was glad that she wasn't. If the lady was being serious about the threat she'd made towards his girlfriend, Gwen's obvious affiliation with Spider-Man could've led to her getting into trouble. He was in no mood to be tearing a psychotically jealous fangirl off of his girlfriend.
Peter heaved a quivery sigh as the insane party raged on around him. He was glad to be alone again, or at least isolated from anyone else's attention. This was not his choice of atmosphere, and it was a wonder to him how it could be for anyone. With a sweep of his gaze, Peter dropped back on to the floor, rubbing at the back of his neck as his goosebumps began to settle. Now more than ever he was craving some peace and quiet, and perhaps a bit of consistency.
"Holy sweet mother of cheesecake-chimichanga-mamas, who was that flaming hot lassie?"
Peter went rigid at the agonizingly familiar voice. Oh no. Hell no. You have got to be freaking kidding me. Please, for the sake of all things good and sane, don't let it be—
A pair of incredibly strong arms suddenly wrapped around his middle and crushed him a violent hug, confirming his terrible suspicions as he let out a strangled groan. The perpetrator of the fierce embrace released a shrill laugh, which grated at Peter's ears like nails on a chalkboard, and swung him from side to side.
"Long time no see, eh, Pete?" Deadpool giggled, squeezing the skinny hero nearly to the point of breaking. Spider-Man squirmed from his grip, barely managing to slip out of his arms before the mercenary could snap his spine, and landed back on the floor, leering at him through the lenses of his mask.
"It's been three days," he reminded coldly, taking a threatening step forwards, "and don't call me that! Someone could hear you!"
"Fine, fine, don't get your spandex in a bunch," Wade murmured under his breath, placing his hands on his hips. "Always so touchy-touchy, sweetums. Is it because you've dumped your first blondie girlie-friend who called you that for that hunk a' burning hot I saw you with a second ago?"
Peter crossed his arms adamantly. "No. I don't even know who the hell that was." He leaned to the side to stare past Deadpool's shoulder, just to make sure she was gone, then stood up straight and sighed quietly. "Anyway, I don't care what you call me, as long as it's not that. Capisce?"
"Awesome sauce! That means she's mine for the taking, and that we're still bros even after all this time!" Wade lifted up his mask and wiped a tear from his eye. "Because, you know, only bros would allow other bros to call them whatever they wanted. Like, a nickname, special only to them. I'll have to come up with an extra-special one for you that only I'm allowed to call you, and you have to make one for me!" He jammed his pinkie into Peter's stomach, making him jump back in surprise. "Pinkie promise you will!"
Spider-Man grimaced and pushed his hand aside. "What are you even doing here anyway, Wade? I thought you said you were done chasing me around. Back at Oscorp, remember?"
Deadpool scoffed. "I'm not here for you, Spider-Butt. I'm here because this is the biggest and most awesomest party in New York right now. The real question is, who's anyone who's anyone who's not here?" The masked mercenary glanced over his shoulder. "In fact, I came here to meet up with my best friend. You know, the guy I talked to you about in the labs before? He's my badass home diggity, if you're picking up what I'm throwing down. After all this time, we just so happened to bump into each other right after arriving!" A wild excitement had entered Wade's voice, and he suddenly grasped Peter's hands in his own rather forcefully, staring up at him with a look not unlike a puppy begging for a treat. "Oooh, Spidey! Would you like to meet him? Oh, please! Please let me introduce you! I just know you'd get along so well! What do you say then, huh? Oh pretty, pretty, pretty please?"
Peter could not imagine the type of person who could maintain a friendship with Deadpool, or even tolerate his presence longer than sixty seconds, and couldn't decide if he should be exceedingly impressed or seriously worried. Either this person had more patience than any living human being ever conceived could possibly possess, or was just as certifiably insane as Wade Wilson himself. The mere idea of that gave him migraine. One lunatic yammering ceaselessly into his ear was bad enough, seeing that his voice seemed to carry a satanic sort of annoyance factor to it that reached beyond the levels of any earthly irritant, but, sweet hell, two? Might as well stab daggers through his skull.
Spider-Man bit the side of his cheek. "Uh, well, I don't really know if—"
Without waiting for him to finish, Wade yanked him into the pulsating crowd.
"Come on, darling! Pooly will lead the way!"
Before he could even consider protesting, Peter was suddenly flanked in on all sides, with little to no room for escape. Deadpool's grip on his wrist was like iron, and he quickly realized that there was no way he was getting out of this. So, huffing frustratedly, he allowed the mercenary to lead him through the horde. Left and right, wild party-goers bumped and brushed against them, many donning homemade Avengers garments and others wearing outfits that would've made his Aunt May faint. It seemed as if the entirety of New York City had shown up to this party, packing the penthouse floor until it was bursting at the seams. As he wove to and fro, splashed with the occasional careless beverage and speckled with confetti raining from the ceiling, he felt as if he had been zapped into a scene from the pages of The Great Gatsby, although he couldn't imagine a party from there being any more wilder than the unhinged chaos that rampaged around him.
Finally, after what seemed like days of swimming through the thrashing sea of bodies, the two found the staircase, and Wade dragged him down the winding steps. When they stepped into the room, Peter heaved a sigh of incredible relief. It was still exceptionally crowded on this floor, but the atmosphere was much more calm and endurable. All the lights were on, the music was light and blissful to his ringing ears, and most of the people were middle-aged men and women dressed in formal attire indulged in knit groups of peaceful chatter. When someone as rich and famous as Tony Stark threw a party, perhaps this was where all the fat cats of New York came to flaunt their prosperity with one another. Peter glanced to his left, then chuckled softly. Bruce Banner was on this floor of the tower for obvious reasons, and was standing in the center of a crowd of kids. From every direction, the children stood awe-stricken by the scientist, many wearing oversized Hulk costumes and the majority begging for him to sign their merchandise. Although a bit flustered by all of the attention, Bruce appeared very happy as he swirled his signature on action-figures, T-shirts, and photographs alike, trying his best to appease the fussy kids' excitement. Peter had rarely seen the weary scientist smile so sincerely, seeing that his heroics as both a genius and a somewhat uncontrollable rage-monster were rarely met with the appreciation they deserved, and Peter was glad that at least one of the two wallflowers on the Avengers team was enjoying the party.
A solitary man in the corner caught his eye, appearing very discomforted with his arms crossed stiffly over his chest and a stern frown painted on his face, and Peter was surprised when Deadpool dragged him over to stand right in front of him.
"Hello again, buddy-o!" Wade cried, and as soon as the obnoxious mercenary's voice met the man's ears, he grimaced.
"For God's—Wade, I told you to leave me alone."
Peter barely stifled a laugh. This was sounding exceptionally familiar. So this guy wasn't exactly the "best friend" Wade had made him out to be. His curt greeting didn't appear to faze Deadpool, however.
"Oh, I know you missed me," Wade insisted, glancing over his shoulder. "And anyways, I brought you a present." Immediately, he shoved Peter forwards, making him stumble a bit before straightening up beneath the stranger's icy glare. Now up close, Peter looked the man before him up and down, then frowned. He was tall, thickly built, and had what appeared to be a constant scowl plastered across his face. His eyes were fierce, and his sharp jaw was framed by a short, scruffy beard and a pair of thick sideburns. He wore a tightly fitted shirt that showed off his muscular figure and some loose jeans with a belt, making him look very out of place amongst all of the finely-dressed, clean-shaved people surrounding them. The man gave him a long look, took a swig straight from a bottle of vodka, then huffed irritably.
"Spider-Man, huh? Stupid name, but I heard you did the world a solid the other day by nearly getting your ass killed. So I guess you're alright."
Peter didn't really know how to respond to this, or whether to feel complimented or offended. He sat in silent confusion while the man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and motioned over to Deadpool with a frown.
"Don't tell me this one's riding your ass around too now. Ever since those psycho scientists got ahold of him, he's become an even mouthier and crazier lunatic than before."
Wade giggled. "But if it weren't for them, we wouldn't be brothers! Blood brothers. Blood brothers from other mothers. And fathers."
Not wanting to be left in the dark any longer, Peter rubbed the back of his neck as he finally spoke. "Pardon me, sideburns, but uh...who are you, exactly?"
The man let out a snort. "You sound like you're eight years old," he muttered in his rough and raspy voice, studying the label of his bottle of vodka for a long and impolite moment before releasing a sigh. "Name's Logan. And in case you're wondering, I did not come here on my own account. My team thought this would be a safe place for all of us to let off some steam, what with the big crowds and loud music and all the other crazies already here anyway, and so they dragged me into it as well."
Team? Spider-Man thought to himself, furrowing his brow a bit behind his mask. What's he mean by that? Before he could ponder this for long, however, Deadpool elbowed him in the ribs.
"This is who I was telling you about earlier," he explained, making a slicing motion with his hand. "Y'know, when my arm got nom nomed off and all? The science dudes used his freakish DNA to make me have a healing factor like his, only I'm awesomer. It also helped my cancer not kill me, unlike my mommy. Only difference between us is I didn't have all my bones replaced with some fancy magical metal."
Logan grunted under his breath. "Plenty more than that, Wilson."
Peter shook his head and held out his hand. "Hold up. What? Healing factor? Magic metal? What are you talking about?"
Logan rolled his eyes as he chugged the rest of the vodka then placed it beside four more empty bottles. Peter realized this amount of alcohol would've made any normal man sick, and he quickly concluded that this guy might not be as ordinary as he looked. Then, to both Peter's shock and confirmation, the man suddenly lifted off the wall, marched right up to him, and raised his fist. From the flesh of his knuckles, a trio of long, metal claws shot out and extended rapidly upwards, just inches from Spider-Man's face, which made him flinch back reflexively. Logan chuckled gruffly, the slender adamantium weapons catching the overhead light.
"Wade obviously didn't explain who I am too well. You and your Avengers friends aren't the only ones with abilities out there, bub. Some of us prefer to not be quite so show-bouty about it however, for personal reasons, but mainly safety reasons. Myself included." He grinned smugly. "My real name's Logan, but my friends and enemies alike call me Wolverine. I'm the leader of a group of mutants known as the X-Men. And from what I've seen and heard about you, you're kind of like a mutant hero, which I guess earns my respect."
Peter stared at him blankly for a moment, the wheels in his head turning madly. Then the realization struck him hard, and he pushed Wolverine's claws aside. "Oooh. I get it. Oh my gosh, that makes so much more sense. You're—you're not an actual wolverine. You're just a guy who's called 'Wolverine' as, like, a cute little petname because of your claw powers. Okay, yeah. Gotcha. See, this whole time I thought Deadpool was trying to convince me that his best friend was an actual, like, literal wolverine, and that his cancer was cured by wolverine blood." Spider-Man burst out laughing, which made Logan grit his teeth together, then he cocked his head to the side slightly. "And wait, what? Mutant? I'm not sure what you mean by that, Wolfy, but I can assure you I've never been called that before. And who are the X-Men? My team forced me to come here too, might I add, so I feel you on that bit."
Wolverine let out a groan, sheathing his claws back into his hand and scratching his ear. "My God, never mind. Geez, no wonder the damn Merc With a Mouth clings to you like a fungus. You're just as annoying as him! I swear, one jabbering idiot in a red leotard is already more than I can deal with, but two will be the death of me." Without warning, Logan shoved Peter roughly aside, making him stumble back in surprise. Grumbling irritably under his breath, the burly man forced himself through the crowds with no courtesy on his tongue or in his movements whatsoever. Peter heard him murmur "Where's that bastard Scott? Never letting that psychotic cyclops convince me to do anything ever again" before stepping on to the stairs, his thick shoulders broad and rigid, and vanishing downwards. Peter watched him leave with glare.
"Wow, what a gentlemen," he scoffed, glancing over his shoulder with his hands on his hips. "I think I'd prefer the actual wolverine. Probably has better manners. And smells better, too. We're obviously going to be great friends." He crossed his arms adamantly. "And I am nothing like that freak Deadpool! What I say is way more hilarious, and, oh yeah, actually makes sense." Peter turned to where Deadpool had been a moment before. "Do you seriously think that guy is your—?"
But Wade was already gone. With a blonde flanking his left and a red-head pressed against his right, Spider-Man watched as the red figure strode into the mob before disappearing from sight entirely. He rolled his eyes and released a flagrant sigh. He was alone in this hysteric party once more.
Peter stared around for a moment at all of the people dancing and talking and having fun together, feeling a bit uncomfortable, then huffed. This was ridiculous. He was Spider-Man for Pete's sake—if all of these random people could enjoy this damn party so effortlessly, then he most definitely could. But what was it that was making him so stiff from the rest of the crowd?
Somebody bumped the table he was standing beside, causing a bottle fall on its side and roll across the flat surface. It tumbled right off the edge, and Peter's reflexives kicked in as he snatched it out of the air just before it crashed to the floor. The clumsy woman apologized, laughing vacuously, before being dragged back into the mob. Peter regarded her forgivingly, about to replace the bottle, but hesitated before putting it back. He stared at its brooding shape for a moment, watching the beads of condensation drip down the sides, then gazed around at the sea of people surrounding him. In every hand, there was some form of alcoholic beverage, whether in a shimmering glass, a smooth bottle, or even a hefty keg. He watched a couple down a pair of shots, then laugh jubilantly, followed by the man engaging her in a long kiss. He glanced back down at the bottle.
Am I really going to resort to that? he wondered, lifting the bottle closer to read the label. It was against the law, him being only seventeen and all, but it wasn't exactly uncommon for a guy his age to have had a drink or two, or to get entirely wasted every weekend. On top of that, he remembered Captain America mentioning how he couldn't get drunk due to his advanced metabolism, so that principle more than likely applied to him. Still, he'd never know unless he tried...
Peter gave a shrug. What the hell? he figured, tearing the top off the bottle with his bare hands quite easily, lifting up his mask, and tipping it back against his lips. Bottoms up.
Immediately he discovered this had been a very bad idea. It tasted absolutely awful. Like he was drinking straight Germ-X out of a conveniently chilled container. He nearly spewed the foul liquid across the room, but with effort forced himself to choke it down. Ugh! he thought, shaking his head and sticking out his tongue. How does anyone drink this crap?
After taking a moment to recover, however, he took another sip. It wasn't quite as bad as before. Maybe it just took a while to acquire a taste for it. He imagined Gwen and his aunt wouldn't approve of him chugging liquor like a sailor, but it was partially their fault he was forced to be at this stupid party, so he didn't dwell on it much. Pretty soon he found that he had drained the bottle, and reached for more of Logan's leftover stash of spirits.
"Having fun, Spider-Man?"
Taken by surprise, Peter glanced over his shoulder upon hearing the voice. Before him finally stood Natasha Romanoff herself, who was donning a brilliant red dress with a matching pigment on her lips. She was startlingly beautiful, and a look of amusement sparkled in her eyes when she noticed the bottle in his hand.
"Oh, it's you!" he exclaimed after swallowing laboriously and forcing a nervous laugh. "I've been trying to find you this whole time. Where have you been?" He crossed his arms. "And for the record, no, I am not. The only few people I've actually spoken to have either been creepy, painfully annoying, or straight-up assholes. First that lady, then that stupid, inappropriate mercenary, and then this—this really hairy dude! He was the worst by far. And it's so loud; my spidey ears won't stop ringing."
Black Widow let out a laugh. "You sound a little tipsy, Spidey. What tipped you off enough to make you want to get boozed? Didn't peg you for that kind of guy."
"I do?" he stammered, surprised. Now that she mentioned it, his head was feeling a bit fuzzy. Perhaps he should've laid off after that second bottle. Nonetheless, Peter shrugged casually, despite feeling somewhat embarrassed. "I'm not. I haven't ever had any before. I just—I don't know. I thought it wouldn't affect me, what with my juiced up metabolism and all. Guess I was wrong."
Natasha held out her hand with a smirk on her face, motioning with her fingers, and Spider-Man gave a vaguely humiliated chuckle as he handed her the nearly empty bottle. She held it up in front of her face with her brow narrowed, examined the label for a moment, then blinked in shock.
"Damn, Spider-Man. Of course it's affecting you—this is some seriously wicked stuff. How much did you have?"
Peter looked over at the table. "Uh...almost three of those...I think."
She gaped at him. "Spidey! This stuff is ninety-six percent pure alcohol. You aren't supposed to drink it neat! Not even I'd try that—and I'm Russian. You're supposed to dilute it."
Peter laughed lightly. "Oh. Whoopsies. My b. I saw Wolverine doing it, so I thought it'd be alright."
"Wolverine?" she murmured softly, furrowing her brow, then shook her head. "You know what, never mind. I came to tell you that Stark is downstairs waiting for you. He wants to make the big announcement speech or whatever before it gets too late. Think you can make it on your own, or do you you need a steady shoulder to lean on?"
Spider-Man pulled his mask back over his chin and chuckled, taking a few experimental steps forward which weren't terribly wobbly. "I think I'll be alright. It feels like it's already starting to wear off. Who knew that this skinny little spider could hold his liquor so well?" His words were punctured mid-sentence by a violent hiccup, which made his face flush a bit but caused both of them laugh boisterously.
"Well, I think that's enough for one night," she told him, placing the bottle back on the table and nudging him towards the staircase. "Don't need two of you on the team, after all. I'm afraid the position of an alcoholic, wise-cracking geek on the Avengers has already been occupied. Speaking of, better hurry along before he gets impatient and starts over-indulging himself."
With a brisk nod, Spider-Man strode past her and wove through the crowds, eventually reuniting with the stairs and climbing up the winding path.
After reaching the top, Peter crawled on to the ceiling and beamed down at the enormous mass of people below, which fluctuated to the music in a semi-rhythmic wave. The party seemed to have reached a fever pitch, and he wondered how long the tower could endure all of this mayhem before the whole thing collapsed in on itself. Then, all of a sudden, the speakers went silent, causing a murmur of disapproval to sweep through the crowd, when a figure suddenly materialized before them on a stage that rose up from the floor. A single spotlight dropped upon him, and immediacy his mask flipped upwards, revealing the crooked grin spread across his face.
"Aloha, my pretties. What's happening out there?"
Instantly, a roar of cheers erupted from the mob, causing Iron Man to laugh out loud and pump his fist in the air.
"Now that's what I'm talking about! What a great crowd—a great crowd we've got here tonight. Seriously, I couldn't've asked for a better bunch of low-lifes to break into my house, eat all my food, and drink all my scotch."
A wave of laughter rippled from the crowd, and many raised their glasses in agreement. Tony paced back and forth across the stage as he spoke, his movements sluggish and unbalanced and his voice heavily slurred. It was obvious that Peter had been too late, for he was already hysterically drunk, which he emphasized with a drag from the bottle he clutched in his fist, and Peter shook his head with helpless amusement.
"If I remember correctly, the last time I hosted a party, I was piss-ass drunk and ended up peeing in my suit and trashing my house. Good times, good times, eh, Rhodey?"
Peter spotted the person who he'd addressed, a sharp-looking man he didn't recognize, and watched as he rolled his eyes and chuckled under his breath. More laughter from the crowd, which Tony reciprocated with obnoxious enthusiasm.
"But, unfortunately, tonight is not just about me, Tony Stark, and my fiercely entertaining life. Tonight, this party is dedicated to the unmatchable and unreplicable epic bad-assery that is, my friends, the Avengers."
The army of party-goers went wild, screeching and whistling and throwing an absolute fit. Peter knew that the Avengers fan-base could be a little crazy, but this was reaching a level that breached the verge of insanity. He watched the hysterical idiocy of the rambunctious drunkards and the unsteady Tony Stark, and was for a moment glad that alcohol didn't affect him so profoundly.
"But, dare I say, I must warn you, ladies and gentlemen. During the last few weeks, some minor changes were made to our humble little team, in light of the recent series of catastrophes that have struck this fine armpit of North America." Tony swung the bottle left and right as he spoke, and Peter was expecting it to fly from his hand and strike a hapless patron at any moment. "First of all, a message to all of the gorgeous women of the world who are still thirsting for Starksy like a band of hell hounds—with no courtesy or respect whatsoever, I ask of you to lay off. I'm sorry to say that this heart of iron melts for only one madam now. She's so hot, in fact, you could say that she's spicy."
Tony threw a sideways wink in the direction of a tall and beautiful red-headed woman standing parallel to the stage, whose cheeks flushed vibrantly from all the attention, and Peter recognized her from before as Pepper Potts, Tony Stark's coworker and girlfriend. A thrilled sigh of adoration purred from the crowd, although he heard a couple of women release wails of protest.
"Pepsi, everyone. Isn't she a doll?" A roll of applause followed, and he took the moment to take a long swig and clear his throat. "Anyhoo, on to the second thingamajig. Until S.H.I.E.L.D. gets its whiz back together, the Avengers will be working to protect the world and all that on our own terms. None of us will adjourn with the agency until all of the wackos are removed, I promise you that. Also, I've been told to reassure you that the freaks behind the monster attacks have been thrown in prison and will be punished severely. So, hooray, justice and all that. That's what we're all about, I guess, so I'm sure everyone's glad that that all worked out."
The crowd clapped reservedly at this, and Peter could tell that the drunken billionaire was beginning to lose the energetic people's interests. A quiet murmur began to stir, and a sense of impatience for the party to ignite back up grew tangible in the atmosphere. Despite this, Iron Man took his sweet time taking a long drink from his bottle. He swallowed heavily, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then tossed his beverage carelessly aside and placed his fists on his metal hips.
"Oh yeah, and one more thing," he declared absently over the drone, "that skinny little spider freak is on the Avengers now, so tell him congrats and all that if you see him."
Upon hearing this, the people immediately quieted down. They stared up at Iron Man with surprise in their eyes, watching him snatch another glass from a passing waitress' platter and polish off its contents with impressive speed, before a quell of excitement began to kindle in the room.
"Wait, you mean Spider-Man?" someone exclaimed.
"Spidey's here? At the party? No way!"
"He's an Avenger now? That's weird."
"Was he forced into a contract or something?"
"How come no one's seen him since the attacks?"
"Spider-Man the Avenger! That's so cool!"
"I like Spidey better as a solo hero."
"Me too. He doesn't need a team to stop bad guys."
"Where is he? Where's Spider-Man? We want to see him!"
The energized garble swelled into a roar of excited questions and loud demands. Taken back, Peter went flat against the ceiling, as if their shouts could someone shake him from his perch. He had hoped he could get out of this party without having to cause a scene, seeing that he'd already caused plenty over the last few weeks, but that hope was beginning to dwindle away. Tony grinned at their excitement and waved his hand about lethargically to try to calm them down. When that didn't work, he simply did his best to speak above them, a tinge of amusement in his voice.
"Yeah, yeah, alright. Chillax, would you? Don't have a hernia on my carpet. It's nothing major to freak out over. Geez, you guys act like Spider-Man's as awesome as me or something. I'll have you know I've been stuck with him for a while now, and trust me, he's just a dork who runs around in red and blue granny-panties."
The crowd laughed at this, which seemed to help settle the tension in the air, and a few hollered out cheerful bursts of denial. Peter couldn't help but laugh along from his seat high above for a while, even if Tony was being a wasted jerk, but he quickly realized that this might be his only chance to high-tail it out of here. Everyone knew he was an Avenger now, and he had held up his end of the deal with Natasha. He was free to go home, finally. The idea sent a rush of relief flooding through him, and he stared down at the giggling swarm of people one last time. Then, lifting off the ceiling, he crawled across the upside-down surface back towards the vacant bedroom, where he could slip out the window and web-zip his merry way through the city and away from all this hysteria. He skittered down the wall towards the door.
"We want to see him though!"
"Yeah! Let's hear it from Spider-Man!"
"Call him out here, Tony!"
Stark brightened upon hearing this, then jabbed his pointer finger in the air. "Hey, that's a great idea. How 'bout I call Spidey up here right now and let you guys see for yourselves what a loser he is. Sound good?"
The people went nuts, and Peter went rigid. He pulled back and stuck flat to the wall, leering at Stark from afar through his mask's lenses. Dammit, Tony, he thought bitterly to himself, watching the drunken bastard parade around in his Iron Man armor with that stupid smirk on his face. He is so going to wake up tomorrow with his face webbed to a toilet seat.
"Oh Spidey?" he called, laying his hand upon his brow and squinting his eyes as he scanned the room. "Where you at, you creepy little insect-thing you? Come on out, the people are getting antsy." When he didn't show, Stark tsked disappointedly. "Perhaps the itsy-bitsy Spider-Man is feeling a bit shy. Would you all mind helping me draw him out from his little water spout?"
Instantly, the crowd began cheering his name. "Spidey! Spidey! Spidey!" they cried over and over, and Peter groaned. He knew now that there was no getting out of this without the entire city or the Avengers holding it over his head, and from the sinister grin splayed across Tony's lips, it appeared that he knew it, too. So, with an irritated sigh, Peter flipped back on to the ceiling and crawled to where he was perched directly above the stage. He aimed his wrist at the infamous drunkard, and couldn't keep a suave smile from spreading across his lips. Might as well give my people what they want.
"Wow. Where is that little insect? I swear, if he didn't show, Tasha is so going to—"
Before he could finish, a strand of webbing suddenly zipped from high above, stuck to the microphone, and ripped it right from Stark's hand. Iron Man started with surprise, and a gasp travelled through the crowd.
"Now now, Tony. Come on, we've been over this. Arachnid, not insect. I think someone who struts around calling himself a genius should at least have a grip on fifth grade biology, wouldn't you agree?"
The spotlight on Iron Man rose upwards to scope across the room until finally landing on the famous red and blue hero himself, who was standing upside-down on the ceiling. The light was harsh in his eyes, causing him to blink blindly, but not nearly as harsh as the sudden roar of the crowd in his ears. He laughed lightly at their excitement, offering the sea of people a funny little wave, then fired a web-line between his feet and descended down from the ceiling on a single thread, stopping right beside Iron Man and grinning while the excessive cheering continued. Stark stared up at him for a moment, then chuckled, snatching another bottle from a plentiful passerby.
"Ah, there you are webs," Stark responded, his words slurred and mocking as he clicked on the microphone in his helmet. "S'fraid you wouldn't show. See folks, what'd I tell yah? Just your typical dork skipping around in those red and blue, full-body panty-hoes of his. You give him way too much credit."
Peter listened to the crowds laugh, and smirked behind his mask. This was beginning to feel like a stand-up comedy show starring Iron Ass and yours truly, and he refused to let the drunken billionaire out-class Spider-Man in a battle of quips, especially in front of the entire population of New York City. He disconnected from his web strand and dropped down beside him, very much appreciating the fact that the effects of his alcohol splurge had already worn off.
"Always gotta be hating on the spandex," he sighed, pulling at the stretchy fabric hugging his midsection. "At least my suit can breathe and is machine washable. I'd imagine it can get a little ripe inside that clunky suit of armor after going a few rounds." He laid the back of his hand against his cheek and spoke into the microphone in a loud whisper. "Some friendly advice from a Spidey with heightened senses: no, emptying an entire bottle of Febreze inside your suit does not eliminate the odor. At best, it makes it smell like Hulk's sweaty boxer briefs, with a touch of moonlit lavender."
The crowds were howling with laughter now, and Spider-Man couldn't keep himself from joining in. To his surprise, after all the misery he had suffered through the night thus far, he found that he was finally beginning to enjoy himself for the first time since this party had begun.
"Also, if there's anyone who's getting too much of anything around here, it's you, Mr. Stark, with all of this alcohol. I didn't know the term 'wasted' could be so perfectly illustrated by a single human being until this very moment, so I appreciate your enlightening epitome." With that, Spider-Man snatched the bottle out of his metal hand as quick as lightning and dumped it on to the floor. Tony blinked in surprise, his hand still curled around the open air where the bottle had once been, before he came to his senses and let out a mischievous sort of laugh. He stumbled over to Spider-Man and slung his metal arm across his shoulders, making Peter buckle a little beneath the sudden weight.
"Ah, this kid. This kid. Gotta love this kid, am I right folks?"
The crowd cheered in agreement, making Peter wince a bit before laughing somewhat nervously. He hoped no one caught on to that 'kid' remark or took it too seriously. People in the mob might get to wondering who Spider-Man really was behind his mask, and the last thing he needed was for anyone to get any closer to discovering the truth. He shot Iron Man a glare through his reflective lenses, trying to warn him to shut up, but Stark didn't pay him any attention as he hugged Peter roughly against his jagged armor.
"Hey Spidey!" someone suddenly yelled out from the front row. "What's your secret identity?"
A little red flag popped up in the back of Peter's mind, and he internally slugged Tony Stark in his stupid drunk face for being so careless. He did his best to play it off just as usual, however.
"Oh dear, you caught me," he sighed, dramatically clasping his face in his palm. "It's true, everyone. I'm sorry I've hidden it from the world for so long, but it's only fair that you all know." His hand dropped, and he spoke in a sinisterly deep voice. "I'm Batman."
This sparked a bout of laughter, but to Peter's dismay, it was not enough to satisfy their gnawing curiosity.
"For real though, Spider-Man. Who are you?"
"We want to know! Tell us!"
"We've seen the rest of the Avengers' faces. If you really are an Avenger, let's see yours!"
"Take off your mask!"
"Take it off!"
Spider-Man tried to take an uneasy step away from the inquisitive party-goers, but Tony lurched him back forwards with the arm still coiled around Peter's neck.
"Go on, Spidey. Tell 'em, why don't ya'? What harm will it do? After all, everyone already knows about Tony, Stevey, Brucy, Tashy, Thory, and Clinty. What does it matter if I tell them that the infamous hero they all know and love as the amazing Spider-Man is actually just puny little Pe—"
Peter slapped his hand across his mouth at the last second. "Ahaha! Petrified!" he blurted out, his face growing hot. "Petrified of all the attention! Haha, yeah. It's, uh, it's hard enough getting chased around by baddies and the paparazzi when I'm web-zipping about in my Spidey gear. Really don't need that going down when I'm not so incognito. Spidey's a terribly timid little spider, as I'm sure you all already know, and prefers to keep his home-life on the down-low. Sorry, thank you, that will be all on the matter."
The swarm of people whined at him objectively, but he didn't care. He was just relieved he had been fast enough to stop his drunken teammate from revealing Spider-Man's secret identity to the whole world. He felt Tony trying to pull his hand off of his mouth, but Peter's grippy fingers stuck tight to his skin and refused to release him. Just when he thought he might have to web-zip out of there with his palm glued firmly across Iron Man's stupid face, he noticed someone marching on to the stage to their left, and glanced that way.
"Alright, Stark," Captain America sighed, walking up beside him and giving him a slap on the back. "I think you've done enough partying for one night."
"I agree," Pepper Potts chimed in from behind, a line of irritation creased across her brow. "Why don't we head off to bed now?"
She clicked off his microphone, allowing Peter to finally move his hand, and began leading him down the steps. He stumbled alongside her very unsteadily, spouting drunken gibberish about how gorgeous Pepper looked that night, before the two melted into the crowds and out of sight. Peter released a shivery sigh of relief, and offered Cap a grateful nod. Steve smiled and held out his hand, and Peter, after a moment of hesitation, handed him the mike.
"In hindsight, choosing Tony Stark to announce the news of Spider-Man's acceptance into the Avengers Initiative was probably not our best call. You know him and his passionate relationship with liquor, and how it always manages to cause problems."
The crowd offered him a hollow laugh of consent, yet he continued speaking without hinderance.
"I just want to let you all know that this isn't as big deal as many have made it to be. Spider-Man being an Avenger only means that he'll be joining the rest of us in a collaborative effort to protect the world whenever it is in danger. He's not under some restrictive contract or anything stupid like that. He joined by his own willingness, and could break from the team at any time." Steve swept his gaze across the ocean of faces, who stared back at him in silence. "As I said before, Spider-Man is a hero. Ever since I witnessed him nearly get himself killed in order to defeat Scorpion and defend the people of this city, I knew he belonged on this team, and that we needed a guy like him if ever another global catastrophe took place. And after getting to know him, fighting by his side, and watching him willingly sacrifice himself to save everyone from that chimera monster attack, I can't emphasize how right I was."
A joyful cheer sounded from the crowd, and Peter just stood there in stunned silence. Steve turned back to face him, smiling sincerely.
"The Avengers are an elite team of unique people granted with varying strengths and abilities who are willing to put their lives on the line to protect this world from any threat that may come its way," he stated, gesturing towards Peter with an extravagant wave of his hand, "and this guy more than qualifies to viewed under such a title, and has proved his value, courage, and selflessness a hundred times over. So, on behalf of our entire team, it is my great honor to announce that Spider-Man is now a member of the Avengers. We cannot thank you enough for all of your help, and look forward to continue protecting the world by your side."
At that moment, the crowd went absolutely ballistic: roaring and thundering and shouting with approval. The sound pounded in Peter's ears painfully, making him flinch a bit, but he couldn't stifle the laugh that rose into his throat. He stepped out to the edge of the stage, accepted the microphone from Captain America, then stared across the vast expanse of eager New Yorkers.
"Uh, wow. Thank you, Spangles. Easy on the dramatics, alright?" He cleared his throat to buy himself a moment to gather his thoughts, then took a settling breath. "I guess this is the first time I've addressed you all directly. I've always been sorta secretive as Spider-Man since I've got people I need to protect, and having the world know who I am would put them in danger. So that's why I can't reveal that." The crowd had gone eerily silent, so he continued to speak. "As for the whole Avengers thing, I'm glad to be on their team. Even though they tried to, you know, beat me to a pulp when I first met them, things changed quickly after that. They saved my life after the Scorpion fight, and after the chimera attack, and I wouldn't have been able to stop the invasion on my own. They protected me when I was hurt, and they helped me back up when I was at my lowest point. I owe them a lot, and am really grateful for everything they've done for me." Peter eyed Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Thor, and Bruce Banner amongst the faces in the crowd, and they all had smug grins spread across their lips, yet their eyes evoked a sincerity that overruled their sly disposition. Spider-Man chuckled lightly under his breath, then continued. "Also, I'd like to make it clear that just because I'm teamed up with them doesn't mean I won't continue my solo hero thing. I'll still apprehend my usual baddies like before, and continue with my city crime sweeps. Only now, I'll have some big guns to call in in case things get really hairy."
Another long cheer from the crowd, one that shook the tower to its core, and Peter sighed quietly. His voice became laced with a playful mischievousness, and he glanced to his left to stare at Captain America. "So Spider-Man is an Avenger now. Spidey the Avenger. It just sounds right to me, don't you agree? So, yeah, hooray and all that." He laughed loudly. "And while these guys may be the lousiest bunch of muttley, jerk-faces I've ever met, I'm glad to call them my teammates. And...yeah...my friends."
Peter listened to the heavy applause for a moment, and watched as people pumped their fists in the air, drank their drinks, and shouted with excitement. The world seemed to take on a blurred lucidity as his mind suddenly wandered back through the surprisingly recent past. His life sure had taken a wild turn since that day he had decided to sneak into Oscorp, or that night on the bridge when he had discovered how he could use his powers to save innocent people's lives, or since Iron Man had dropped on to the rooftop with him that evening a while back and asked him if he wanted to join the Avengers. He wondered what his fourteen-year-old self would think if he was warned of what was coming for him in the near future. He wondered what his future self would be telling him right now, what other crazy things were ahead, and what his life had in store for him. He wondered if Uncle Ben was watching him, and what he thought of everything he had become. Yet somehow he knew, with an instinct he couldn't quite pinpoint, that his uncle was smiling down at the boy who he'd always looked at like his own son, and that he was indescribably proud of him.
Peter Parker grinned behind his mask, and he allowed himself for a few fleeting seconds to simply enjoy this instant in time. He was always musing over the mistakes he'd made in the past, and what would become of Spider-Man and the rest of the of the world in the future, that he let the present of the now slip away from his relish. It was a strangely blissful sensation, one that he hadn't felt for a while, and he allowed it to fill him with a happiness that almost felt foreign.
But then the moment was over. And yet, it didn't produce disappointment. Rather, it simply allowed for another instance of equal magnitude to take its place, only this one shook away the serenity and made Peter laugh out loud.
"Alright, Spider-Man. Enough of this sappy, gross, heart-felt crap that no one cares about. Let's get back to what everyone came here for: partying until we all pass out!"
With that, Clint Barton loaded a peculiarly fat and bizarre-looking arrow into his bow and fired it at the ceiling. The projectile launched high into the air, then exploded in a huge flash of sparkling light and colorful streamers and confetti. As it all rained down on the hundreds of party-goers, the music kicked back to its thundering beat, and the party returned to its usual intoxicating roar.
Somewhat relieved, Peter flipped off the stage and landed beside the two master assassins, who grinned back at him cheerfully.
"Thanks, Barton," Peter told him with a chuckle. "I thought I was going to be up there spouting cheesy, gratitude nonsense until my tongue fell off."
"Glad I could shut you up," he told him with a smirk. "It was obvious that your flapping gums meant every word of it, though. Too bad Tony was too drunk to hear that—I bet he'd never let you live it down. Guess I'll have to relay the footage to him later."
Spider-Man laughed authentically and shrugged his shoulders in defeat, and Natasha gave him a pat on the back.
"I thought it was nice," she assured him, and curled her ruby red lips into a smile. "Anyway, a deals a deal. The party will probably end soon, so you can go ahead and leave. I think you've suffered enough torture for one night to know from now on to never place a bet with me ever again. So, all in all, mission accomplished."
Peter smiled bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks, Natasha, but I think I might stick around for a while. I mean, just because, you know, you did say, after all, that I had to stay for the whole time. And I certainly wouldn't want to deny the famous Black Widow everything that I owe her, would I?"
Natasha blinked in surprise, then giggled a soft and shrewd laugh. "Ah, I suppose not. Do what you want then, Spidey. Just don't get into too much trouble."
Peter nodded, and the two walked off together, appearing very dignified and professional from the confidence in their steps and the erectness of their spines. And yet, Peter swore he saw them interlace their hands together before evaporating into the darkness, and he laughed lightly to himself. Then, just like that, he joined the party around him almost seamlessly, and pretty soon found that this wasn't quite as bad as he thought it would be.
After hanging out with a group of fellow spidery-dressed people, signing a few autographs, and even hesitantly testing out the dance floor (which he quickly ruled out to leave to the professionals), Peter was surprised when he realized that the party was over. People began to grow weary, and the crowds began to scatter. Relieved to discover that Tony Stark had hired a top-notch cleaning crew to sweep up the extensive devastation, Spider-Man waved goodbye to his recently acquired companions, as well as the remaining Avengers who were still conscious, then merrily web-zipped himself all the way home.
He walked into his apartment to find his aunt and Gwen passed out in a messy pile across the couch, and the last remaining slice of his birthday cake that they had managed to preserve after the Avengers had torn into it was sitting on the coffee table. He wondered if he should take her home, as her mother was probably terribly worried about her. He couldn't exactly blame her—after everything that had happened, what with Gwen nearly dying and Stark having to call Ms. Stacy and formulate a lie that she was staying with him to work as a possible intern because of her help with the development of the chimera-killing serum, he could imagine that she must be very concerned about her little girl, and probably wanted to see her as soon as possible. But he just couldn't bring himself at that moment to wake her from her peaceful and much-needed slumber. So, after changing into some comfy clothes and brushing his teeth, he hauled his blankets and pillows down the stairs, spread his sheets across the floor beneath the couch, and snuggled up comfortably right beside the rest of his family. He guessed it was about 4:45 a.m. by the time his eyes finally slipped shut that night, and yet the sleep felt warm, refreshing, and strangely bountiful.
The next morning, Peter zipped Gwen up to her room and left her with a passionate kiss on the lips. He told her he hoped she could work everything out with her family, and that he would visit her as she gathered the rest of her strength back. Then, grinning like a fool, he hopped out of her room and went soaring down the street. Gwen leaned sleepily against the windowsill, and smiled dreamily as she watched her boyfriend fly high above the bustling city before disappearing somewhere within the twists and turns of the concrete jungle.
When he got home, he was surprised to find his aunt trying to clean up what remained of the mess that the chimera had created during his unannounced visitation. He immediately stole the broom from her, and pushed her gently back on to the couch.
"I've got this, Aunt May," he insisted, sweeping up the dust and debris into an already heaping pile. "You just focus on resting up and being lazy for once."
Aunt May laughed. "Oh Peter, I'm completely capable of cleaning my own house. And if there's anyone who needs rest around here, I'm afraid it's you, dear. Exactly how late did you stay out last night?"
Peter grinned shyly. "Uh...pretty late."
She smiled amusedly. "Well, did you have a good time?"
Peter narrowed his brow and continued his sweeping for a moment, trying to decide how he should answer. Thinking back through everything that had happened that bizarre evening yesterday—his strange meeting with that fiercely seductive lady, Deadpool's obnoxious reappearance, being introduced to that Wolverine jerk, getting drunk off of that crazy alcohol for about five seconds, Stark nearly spewing his secret to the whole world, his address to the crowd and the rest of the city, and the finale of him actually managing to enjoy himself—he didn't know how he could possibly sum it all up in one perfectly articulate phrase. So, shrugging his shoulders, he glanced back over his shoulder at his aunt sitting on the couch, and a silly sort of smile spread across his face.
"You could say that."
Guess what. GUESS WHAt. OMG I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but...the next chapter is going to be, without a doubt, the last chapter of this story. THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE HUMANITY OF SPIDER-MAN. I cannot believe I actually made it this far! Whoop whoop! It's totally because of all of your awesome support, so thank you times a billion. It makes me sad though... :,( I'll probably take a long time on it because I want it to be perfect. But after it is finally finished, I will have other matters to attend to that I will explain later...muahahaha. Also very pumped to hear the rumor about Spidey maybe being in the Avengers Infinity War movie...? I heard my babe Garfield probs won't be in it :,( but hey, I'm so desperate for a cross over movie I don't even care who it is. It could Miles Morales, cuz he's freakin awesome, but whateves. Anyhippityhoo, maybe write a review, and see y'all soon for the finale! :D :D :D