Projectile vomiting. Not a pretty sight for anyone, but definitely not a pretty sigh for someone who's sensitive to alcohol.

"Arghhhh guys… I think… um…" Peter tries to talk through his the drunkenness but it's clearly not working.

"I think too sometimes, Petey Pie, no matter how much people say I don't!" Wade claims, ignoring the fact Peter's kind of drooling.

"Yeah, we all totally believe that Wade," Matt sarcastically comments. "It's alright buddy," Matt says to Peter, "let's get you home before you vomit again."

"Yeah, let's… yeah."

Peter agrees limply. Then snores. Rather loudly. Head hanging, while barely staying upright in Matt's side-hug.

"Aw cute, but remind me again how we're supposed to get him home without knowing where he lives, DD?"

Matt sighs. "… Guess we're going to my place." He utters, while Wade chatters away, placing Peter on Matt's back.

"Nice place, DD! How come you've never invited me over sooner?" Wade asks.

"Have you ever considered it's because I don't want you here?"

"Rude." Wade crosses his arms.

Shuffle, shuffle… thud.

"Ugh, why is my, my… bed? Hard?" Peter gasps. Matt and Wade see Peter's head pop up over the couch. "W-what?! Where am I?!" Peter scrambles to his feet but stops midway to clutch unto his head. "Ow, ow, ow, ow that hurts." He goes to take off his mask but then realizes he doesn't even have it on. "Um, where's my mask?"

"Sorry to bring you here Peter, but we didn't know where you lived and we couldn't just leave you. Also, you didn't have it on in the first place." Matt explains.

Wade sighs loudly, drawing Peters and Matt's attention to him. "Our baby boy is all grown up! Getting drunk and vomiting while calling us to pick him up…"

Flashback start.

Cough, cough. Drip, drip.

Those are the kinds of sounds that come from an alleyway with a broken pipe and a drunk 21-year-old Spider-Boy.

Peter slowly opens his eyes, taking a moment to realize he's laying next to a dumpster that smells pretty close to a whopping pile of crap. Did I get my butt handed to me during patrol? Is the first thing he thinks, but he's not in his suit and he's sure there are other reasons why, but his head feels like it's splitting open, so maybe it's kind of hard to think about them at the moment. So he lies there, miserable, just for a minute or two to get his bearings.

He doesn't feel too bad after that, at least he thinks so, so he decides to call the first person he can find on his phone before he gets sick again.

Mr. Murdock. Seems to be the first thing there, so Peter presses the phone icon clumsily.

Ring! Ring! Click.

"Pete? What's up?"

"Argh… I need someone… to pick me up. Please? I think, *gag*, um, man, my head hurts…"

Blarghhhh!

Flashback end.

"… Stop growing up Petey Pie!" Wade runs and reaches over the couch, trying to hug Peter, but Peter dodges and Wade face plants unto the floor with a thwack. "… Um ow?"

"Ugh Wade, please don't remind me. I really didn't mean to drink so much. I'm really sorry you guys had to pick me up while I was like that…" Peter says sheepishly while looking out the window.

"It's alright Pete, happens to the best of us." Matt consoles Peter while getting him a glass of water. He turns off the tap when the glass is full and walks over to hand it to Peter. It's weird to think that it feels like only a while ago he was taking [Insert reasonable age. I can't think of a good age]-year-old Peter under his wing.

"Thanks Matt, I've kind of been a mess lately. And some college friends offered to go out for drinks so I was like 'why not?' I haven't gone out for a while and… well," Peter chuckles awkwardly, "I don't know." He gulps down the water, hoping it eases his splitting migraine. "Man, I'm never drinking again. I know I'm sensitive to alcohol because of the bite-" Then Peter suddenly gagged harshly and ran off to the bathroom and starts- well, I'm pretty sure we all know what.

",,, Man, I wish I could get drunk." Wade wistfully comments out of nowhere.

"Did you really just say that while Peter is vomiting in my toilet?"

"Right, right, kinda insensitive… But man! I wish I could get dru-"

"Shut up or get out of my apartment."

"Okay."