Lovely Lycanthropy | Natasha Romanoff

fourteen

YOUR POV:

"Alright you guys, you be safe." My father said adjusting his belt.

"Where are you going?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.

Steve sighed, running his hands through his blond hair, "People get stuck in storms like these all the time despite the warnings to stay inside till it passes."

"People never listen." MJ chuckled, taking a sip from her Cola can.

"That they do not." My father sighed, "You guys should be okay. The backup generator should kick on if anything happens and there's flashlights, medical equipment and anything else you need in my closet."

"We'll be fine dad." I hummed.

"I know you will. I left the combination to my safe for you in case you need to grab a weapon."

I playfully rolled my eyes, "Dad, come on, who's gonna try something in this storm? Especially when we live as far away as we do?"

"People are unpredictable. You'd be surprised at what could happen." The police man squeezed my shoulder and kissed my forehead, "Stephen wants you to call him, he wants help in deciding-"

"I'll uh, I'll call him." I cleared my throat, "Bye dad. Be safe."

"Always am." He smiled, his baby blue eyes twinkling, "Now you kids don't do anything too stupid."

"How could we? You're taking all the stupid with you." I teased and he laughed, bidding us his final goodbyes and left out into the storm.

"Party time!" Kate grinned, holding up two bottles of alcohol.

"No way! You got the good stuff." Ned gasped, grabbing a fancy bottle of vodka out of her hand.

Kate scoffed, "I always get the good stuff. My mom has a nice, and very large, personal drink collection. She won't notice a few bottles gone missing."

"Really we're doing her a favor." I smirked, heading into the kitchen to grab some glasses. I internally frowned at the thought of doing the dishes later (tomorrow), but I knew I would feel a sense of accomplishment when they were done.

My friends joined me in the kitchen, each of them claiming a glass and as I poured mine, I stared at my reflection being ripped apart by the movement of the alcohol. Grief was a funny thing. Sure I was crushed, wrecked, suffocated by the weight of it all, but I knew she wasn't suffering anymore, and maybe I had really accepted fate since the beginning. Death was inevitable. Maybe that's why I was handling everything so well. Despite it all, I still wasn't fully ready to say goodbye for the last time.

Zoning back in, I drank down the glass I poured and poured myself some more. The taste burned the back of my throat, but for the night I welcomed it. Maybe it could set the grief aflame and run out the cold setting in my bones from the raging storm.

"You okay?" Peter whispered to me when the others headed back to the living room.

I hid my face behind my glass as I inhaled another sip, "I'm fine."

The boy nodded, "Just wanted to make sure."

I smiled a little, "you worry too much. I promise when I need a shoulder to cry on, you'll be the first person I call."

Peter chuckled, "That makes me feel better."

We clink our glasses together and decided to join the others in the living room.

"So we've decided to play a drinking game." MJ wiggled her eyebrows.

"What's the game?" I asked.

A smirk crept up her lips and something told me she was going to have way too much fun with this, "Never have I ever. Have you ever played before?"