We're so Miserable and Stunning (Peterick AU)

Ch9 (pt.2) - And Your Biggest Mistake

Pete and I both rise at the same time and head back to the bar.

"Back so soon?" Elijah asks when we arrive. I set my empty glass on the counter and Pete turns his empty beer bottle upside down.

"All right, Wentz, let's have a little fun," Elijah says, already at work on making someone a drink.

"Whatcha got for me?" he asks, intrigued.

"Spirytus Delikatesowy," Elijah says with a wicked grin.

"What?"

"It's Polish vodka, and it's gonna kick your ass, Pete Wentz."

"You know I love my liquor."

"Shit, dude, you're so fucking dead. It's a ninety-six percent."

"Fuck," I put in. I may not know my liquor, but I know beers are usually only four or five percent alcohol content.

"Alright, bring it on then. Come on, Eli, pass one." I note the use of a casual nickname.

Elijah pours a shot glass full of the vodka and passes it to Pete. I can smell it, even through the stench of weed.

Pete doesn't even hesitate, he just tips the shot glass back and downs it all. He immediately grimaces and slams the shot glass onto the bar.

"Ah, fuck. Fuck. Fuck, that burns," he says, and I can't help but laugh.

"Fuck. Fuck, gimme a chase," he says, almost groggily, blinking heavily.

Elijah, grinning, grabs a Sprite out of a cooler and pops the tab, passing it to Pete. Pete immediately drains the can.

"Okay. I was not expecting that," he says, his face still slightly contorted to express bitterness.

"Are you okay?" I ask, still laughing a little.

"Ye- I think I'm fine."

"Again," Pete says, pushing the shot glass towards Elijah.

"Are you fucking crazy?" I ask. "You almost died."

Elijah laughs. "Couldn't have said it better myself." But he's still pouring the vodka.

"Yeah, maybe I am," Pete says, taking the shot glass and downing it again. This time, Elijah's already got a Sprite ready.

Pete's face contorts again and he lets out a half-sigh, half-groan. He chases with Sprite again, and then jumps up and down a couple times, shaking his hands out. He laughs.

He's in-fucking-sane.

"Alright, alright. One more time. Last time," he says, and I can do nothing but scoff and stare at him in bewilderment. I wonder if it's time to worry yet.

"Fuck it," I say, "Pour me one too." Pete looks over at me and grins.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he says.

Elijah pours out two shot glasses and opens a Sprite for me.

"One, two, three," Elijah says, and Pete and I down the vodka and slam our glasses on the table at the same time.

"Fuuuck," I say, a burning sensation at the back of my throat. I can't feel much else. I immediately cough. This kicks the buzz I got from the absinthe in the ass. And it's just a shot.

Pete groans, already drinking the Sprite I forgot about. I quickly pick it up and drink a healthy amount of it, trying to shake the feeling that I've been punched in the gut.

"There's no way I could ever put any of that anywhere near my face again. Fuck," I say, genuinely curious about how Pete did it three times.

"Yeah, no more, I may vomit," he says, taking the Sprite can from my hand and finishing it off.