Imagines

Are you drunk? (Peter Parker)

Author: Allofmyimagination (Tumblr)

Word Count: 791

Fandom: Spiderman

You were usually very careful as far as alcohol goes, but this time, you just couldn't help yourself. You knew Peter's Aunt May would be working the night shift today, and even in your drunken state, you found your way to Peter's house.

You clumsily poked at the doorbell, finally getting in on your third try. Then you just kept pressing it, amused by the sound. The door was pulled open suddenly, revealing a very disheveled Peter Parker.

"Petaaa!" You exclaimed, lazily wrapping your arms around him. You could barely pronounce your r's.

"H-Hi (Y/N)?" He replied, trying to figure out what was going on. "Wait, wait, are you drunk?" He asked, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

You just stared at him with an offended expression, like he just cursed your grandma's ern. "Duh." You finally said. You walked right past him and stopped in the area between the kitchen and living room. "I'm hungry." You said matter-of-factly, stopping dead in your tracks and spinning dramatically towards the kitchen. You turned to him and pointed towards the kitchen as if asking permission to ravage his fridge.

Peter just watched you with a smirk, trying his hardest to hold back a laugh. "By all means!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. You smiled and ran into the kitchen. Peter was about to go watch the news when he heard a loud crash from the kitchen.

He ran towards the sound only to find you on the floor with your back to him, on your knees, crying. He was about to start comforting you when you belt out, "I KILLED THE COFFEE MACHINE!" He walked over and looked over your shoulder. The coffee machine wasn't even broken, the lid was just open. "His brains are spilling out, Peter! What am I supposed to do? I didn't prepare for this! I'm too young for this pressure!" You rambled on, all the while Peter was doubled over laughing. "This guilt will follow me for the rest of my life. Who am I kidding? I deserve it. I could've saved him!" You continued, your tone now shaky with tears. Peter put a hand on your shoulder making you look at him, and he finally caught his breath long enough to console you.

"He isn't dead, (Y/N)," Peter explained, picking up the machine and closing the lid, then setting it on the counter.

"You're a miracle worker!" You said, scrambling to your feet and hugging him. "I thought I'd lost him." You said in a choked breath. Peter tried to act serious, but he couldn't keep his smile down. He was about to leave the kitchen when heard you whispering some... interesting things. "You don't deserve to be violated like that, you poor thing. You just shoving their bread in you. Disgusting. I'm so sorry." He whipped around to find you stroking the toaster rather thoughtfully.

"(Y/N), please stop stroking the toaster."

"No! He's my friend."

"You stroke your friends?"

"Only my bestestestest-estest friends!" You exclaimed giggling.

Some time later Peter had gotten you to calm down, but you still didn't want to leave the kitchen. Abiding to your stubborn and drunk self, he left you in the kitchen. Everything was quiet until he heard you grunting heavily and went to see what was happening.

You were practically folding your body in half. Your butt was in a cabinet, and you were trying to fit the rest of yourself in. "(Y/N), please get out of the cabinet." He said patiently.

"No!"

"Please!" He begged.

"NO! Come over here and make me!" You said, folding your arms over your chest as best you could in your position.

"Remember, this is your fault," Peter said, walking over. You gripped the sides of the cabinet and braced yourself. He easily picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder, much to your dismay.

"But me down, tarantula!" You screeched. He just chuckled and shook his head, but you weren't having it. You grabbed at his shirt and pulled up, easily taking it off.

His face flushed but you didn't even care. You just grabbed some grapes from a bowl on the island and started throwing them at him. "Seriously? Stop!" He begged, brings his hands up to shield himself from your fruity amo.

You finally ran out of grapes, and Peter sighed in relief. He looked at you with an annoyed expression, making you giggle. He started running at you and you promptly scurried away. You were just passing the front door when you heard it being unlocked.

Peter looked at all the mess, then to you, then to his shirt in your hands, then to the door. How was he supposed to explain this to Aunt May?