Marvel Imagines ;)

peter parker - drunk

"We're done."

"Y/N, please, please just give me a second to explain—"

"No."

"You used to say you believed in second chances..."

You scoffed. Yeah, you had believed that. Once. When you were naive and stupid and thought that your boyfriend of two years actually loved you.

"Flash, you slept with someone else. That's not something I'm ever going to forgive. Or forget."

. . .

You were drunk.

And not the cute, snort-a-little-when-you-laugh drunk. No, this was the awful, better-watch-where-you-step drunk, because lord knows you were going to hurl up whatever was in your stomach before the night was over. Or the sun was up. Or... Whatever.

You'd left Flash's place in a hurry, purchased a bottle of bourbon off some guy on the street, tossed back a few shots of tequila with a couple of strangers—who apparently didn't care that you were excessively underage—and now you were... Well, you didn't know where you were, exactly. In your drunken state, you thought that perhaps you recognized the lampposts, or the pattern on the sidewalk, or the Thai restaurant across the street, or—

"Y/N?"

The somewhat familiar voice had come from above. But there was no way... It couldn't be...

"God?"

You heard someone laugh, and only then did you finally know where you were.

"Nope, just me," said Peter--your friend since freshmen year of high-school--with his head sticking out of the window of his and May's apartment. "Don't move, I'll be down in a sec." The head of shiny, auburn hair disappeared.

You huffed, scuffing your shoe on the pavement. The sound was oddly entertaining.

"What are you doing out so late?"

You looked up--too fast, your head was spinning--to see Peter stumble down his apartment steps. Clad in blue and white striped pajama pants and a t-shirt with an in-depth study of the Death Star on it, he looked... Well, he looked like Peter. A little rough around the edges, given that it was three in the morning, and he'd probably been sleeping, but Peter none the less. Something about his tired eyes and messy hair made your chest tighten.

"I broke up with Flash." You pointedly ignored the way Peter's eyes visibly widened. "Needed to take my mind off things."

Peter linked his arm through yours and dragged you towards his apartment. "What? I thought you two were great together."

"No you didn't. You hated Flash, and hated the fact that I didn't hate him even more."

Damn. You always got loose-lipped when you drank.

Peter paused. His eyes widened in surprise—and then he smiled. "Miss Y/LN. Are you drunk?"

You scoffed perhaps a bit too dramatically. "Me? That's absolute nonsense."

"Oh yeah? Tell your nose. You're doing that thing where you wrinkle it every time you lie."

You turned to Peter and gave him what you hoped was an intimidating look. "Don't change the subject. We were talking about how much you hate Flash."

"I always thought I was subtle."

"Making sly comments every chance you get isn't exactly what I'd call being subtle, Peter Parker. In fact, I think it's quite the opposite."

You breathed out a sigh of relief when the door to Peter's apartment closed, finally feeling some semblance of safe.

"Well, in any case, I'm sorry." Peter's eyes flickered over your probably worse-for-wear state, noting the mascara smudged beneath your eyes, the pain that you were desperately trying to hide. "I know you liked him."

"See, I thought I did too. But I'm not even that upset that we're broken up. I'm kind of relieved, to be honest. What made me want to drown myself in as much alcohol I could get my hands on was the fact that he felt he could do better than me. Flash Thompson. I mean... I really must have hit complete and utter rock bottom."

Peter sat you down on his bed, and you immediately melted into the comforting warmth. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Y/L/N. I think you're doing alright."

"No," you spoke softly, voice tight. "You don't get it. The only reason I even dated Flash in the first place was because—"

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit—

Peter sat on the bed beside you, his eyes sparkling. "Because what?"

Don't you dare open your mouth.

"Because you were into Liz. And I wanted to make you jealous."

Shit.

There. You'd said it. The thing you'd been holding onto for almost a year.

Rather than look at Peter, your gaze remained on your hands wringing together in your lap. "You don't have to say anything. In fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't shoot me down, because it's actually been a real shitty night, and—"

"You wanted to make me jealous?"

Peter looked... completely shell-shocked. "Well, yeah. I like you Peter. I've always liked you. I just never knew if you felt the same way."

Peter blinked once. Twice. "And you never thought to just ask?"

You rolled your eyes. "We can't all have the brave, steel-plated heart of Peter Parker."

Peter scoffed. "You know, you get really judgy when you're drunk."

"I'm always judgy. I just don't vocalize my judgyness when I'm sober."

Peter smiled. Wide. So wide it made you want to smile back at him, despite how shitty you were feeling. He always knew how to make you feel better.

"Let's talk in the morning when you're sober." He stood, still smiling. "I can't wait to tell you how long I've loved you back."