#can you imagine how awed and humbled peter would feel to know how much sway over wade he literally has?

[ayosdesignz-blog]

Deadpool With A Normal Face...

WHY HAVE I YET TO SEE THIS ASPECT OF HIS REGENERATION/HEALING BROUGHT UP IN SPIDEYPOOL FANFICS????!!!

THIS IS A LITERAL BEAUTY AND THE BEAST GIMMICK FOR THE TAKING!

A TALE OF HEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS BETTERING THE PEOPLE INVOLVED IN WAYS BOTH NOTICEABLE AND NOT!!

AN ACTUAL TROPE IN THE MAKING IN JUST HOW MUCH SPIDEY MAKES DEADPOOL THOROUGHLY BETTER WITH HIS INFLUENCE AND CARE CAREER/MORALITY/MENTALLY/HEALTH WISE TO BE THE DEFINITION OF AN ANTI-TOXIC RELATIONSHIP!!!

❤️😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️

[xxx-cat-xxx]

hi! if you’re taking prompts could you maybe write something where peter is dumb and gets drunk and a party & ends up with alcohol poisoning? THANK YOU!!!

Thank you for the prompt! And thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading.

For this one, let’s imagine that the fanfic community was in charge of the Endgame script and everyone is still alive after the final battle.

TWs for alcohol abuse and anxiety issues.

———-

Too Close to Home

“It’s going well, isn’t it?” Pepper’s hand comes down on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony turns around and smiles at her, his eyes gliding down her breathtaking blue dress before he takes in the scene around them. It’s the inauguration celebration for the reconstructed Avengers compound, and so far, Pepper seems right.

“I know how to throw a party, don’t I?” he replies with a smirk.

“Always so humble,” Pepper says, raising an eyebrow. “I think I’ll go and try to get Morgan settled - it’s way past her bedtime.” She motions at the visibly tired and cranky child currently stealing fries from Rhodey’s plate, smearing mayonnaise onto both his suit pants and her own dinosaur t-shirt.

“Yeah, before she disables his leg braces again…” Tony mutters.  “Or should I do it?”

“Nah, it’s okay. You had her in the workshop long enough today.” Pepper blows a kiss on Tony’s cheek, then walks over to save Rhodey from the mayonnaise monster.

Tony surveys the rest of the party-goers. There are Nat and Clint sitting in a hammock, talking quietly, seemingly lost in their own world. Next to the bar, Sam is trying to impress Wanda and Scott with a Falcon story, swinging his arms up and down in an imitation of his wings. Bucky and Steve are sitting further away in a corner, huddled close together as always, the ever-present tension on Bucky’s face a little less visible today. Tony is far from comfortable in his presence, but he hopes that Steve appreciates the fact that he’d invited both of them.

With a breath, Tony lets out the tension he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. The complicated relationships of love, guilt, friendship, and broken promises in this room would have any psychologist happily taking notes. But for now, at least, it seems that everything is working out. Tony gives himself a mental pat on the back.

He steps out onto the terrace for a bit of fresh air. Someone is sitting on the porch swing, lightly drifting it back and forth, and Tony recognises Peter’s curly hair and ill-sized suit jacket, the sleeves of which are not quite long enough to reach his wrists. Tony’s smile morphs into a frown when he notices a near-empty bottle of Bailey’s on the ground next to the swing.

Tony steps closer. The boy is swaying a little where he’s sitting, glancing around himself with a slightly detached glaze to his eyes. Tony doesn’t need his glasses to see that his protegé is clearly drunk off his ass.

“Oh, hi, Mis’er Stark,” Peter says with a grin when Tony’s shadow falls on him, his pronunciation more than a little off.

“So, Peter Parker. Welcome to the latest episode of What Not to Do When You’re Bored on a Friday Night.”

“Huh?” Peter frowns, blinking against the lights shining through the windows behind Tony.

“How did you get this?” Tony points at the bottle with his prosthetic arm, emitting a few sparks from his fingertips for good measure. “For all that I’m paying the bartenders, they should know better than handing out drinks to minors.”

“Showed her my ID - says I’m 23,” Peter explains smugly. “We were talkin’, and she kept refilling my glass, then gave me this…” He gestures at the Bailey’s.

“And why on earth would you try to finish it?”

“Jus’ wanted to have some fun…” The kid is grinning, but there is something painful and twisted in his smile. If anyone in the world can see the difference between drinking for fun and drinking to forget, it’s Tony Stark.

Something in him snaps.

“I expected more from you, Peter. Screw my opinion, what would your aunt say about underage drinking?”

“Well, legally, I am 23…” Peter tries to get to his feet and nearly stumbles over them in the process. Tony catches him by the shoulder and holds him upright.

“That’s not an excuse. There is no excuse, actually.” Tony takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself. “Okay, you gonna come to your room with me, or should I call May?”

“What?” Peter balks. “No, I, I’m havin’ fun….”

“Yeah. Not gonna last long, trust me.” Tony grabs the boy’s wrists and starts pulling him towards the door.  

“Mis’er Stark, hey!” Peter protests.

“Don’t hey me,” Tony spits. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, his breaths coming much faster than they should.

Peter is visibly having trouble setting one foot in front of the other one, so Tony slings his flesh arm around the kid and supports him back inside and towards the elevator. They bump into Bruce just when the doors open.

“What are you doing here?” Tony asks. It comes out more forcefully than he intends.

“Not a big fan of parties…” Bruce trails off upon seeing the look on his friend’s face. “What’s going on?” He takes in Peter’s slightly reeling posture with a frown.

“The kid had the brilliant idea of getting wasted at the party,” Tony cuts it short. He maneuvers Peter into the elevator, Bruce getting in behind them.

“How much did you have?” Bruce addresses Peter.

“Huh?” Peter blinks. “Oh, hey Dr B’nner…” He’s slurring more than mere minutes ago.   

“Too much, apparently.” Tony positions Peter against the handrail and then grabs onto it himself with slightly trembling hands.

It doesn’t escape Bruce’s notice. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, ‘course.” But Tony can feel his chest going tight with the familiar feeling of there suddenly not being enough oxygen in the air. “Just - get him to his room, will you? Make sure he’s okay. I’ll- I’ll be there in a sec.”

He doesn’t wait for Bruce’s reply, escaping the moment the elevator opens to the upper floor. Without bothering to check whose room it is, Tony opens the first door he can find and pulls it shut behind him. He sinks onto the floor, counting his breaths, trying his best not to freak out completely.

*

All traces of amusement have vanished from Peter’s face when they finally make it to his bedroom. He looks dizzy and downright sick.

“‘m not feeling so great…” he mumbles when Bruce closes the door behind them.

“I know, Peter…” Bruce sighs. The boy hiccups thickly, letting out a breath that smells distinctly like alcohol. Bruce pushes a sudden onslaught of childhood memories away and concentrates on his doctoral instincts; taking care of the kid is all that matters now. “Bathroom, okay?”

Peter more stumbles into the bathroom than walks. He clumsily kneels down in front of the toilet and tries to rest his head on the seat, missing by a few inches. He would have hit the ground if it hadn’t been for Bruce’s hands holding him upright. “Okay, bend over the bowl,” the doctor directs.

Peter sets his elbows on the seat, supporting his head. “Think ‘m gonna be sick,” he slurs.

“It’s okay. Get it up.”

Peter coughs drily and spits out a string of saliva. He moans when a wet burp escapes him. “‘s awful. ‘m not doin’ this ‘gain.”

“I’m counting on that.” A gag comes from the boy’s mouth, bringing bile that trickles down his chin. Bruce sighs, bracing himself. “Okay, there you go.”

Peter lurches forward and heaves. A gush of liquid splashes into the toilet, the smell of alcohol mixing with the stench of bile.

“Okay, Peter, you’ll be alright.” Bruce rubs circles onto the kid’s back, trying his best to be comforting.

Peter empties his stomach into the bowl, moaning in the intervals. When it seems that the current round is over, he leans back against the bathtub, sweaty and pale. Bruce hands him a towel to wipe his mouth.

“You feeling a bit better?” Bruce asks.

Peter shakes his head, then pulls his knees towards his chest and buries his face in them. “I fucked up,” he sniffs.

“We all make mistakes, Peter.”

“No, but, Mis’er Stark, he…” Peter seems to lose track of the thought mid-sentence.

“It’s okay, Peter,” Bruce comforts. “Do you want to go to bed?”

The boy seems past making decisions, so Bruce hoists him to his feet and supports him back to his room.

“Dr Banner?” Peter asks when Bruce deposits him on the bed and starts to remove his shoes. He stares at Bruce with confusion, seeming genuinely surprised to see him there. “Where’s Mister Stark?”

“That’s a good question.” Bruce has a suspicion of what’s going on with Tony, but he is not going to share this with a drunk 16-year old. “How about you lie down and I go look for him?”

“Yeah…’s good.” Peter nods, then crashes onto the pillows. “So soft,” he mumbles.

“Okay, here’s the trash can.” Bruce doubts Peter is still listening, so he puts it right next to the bed. “FRIDAY, what’s his BAC?”

“0.18, Dr Banner.”

“Okay. Alert me of any changes in his condition.”

“Of course.”

*

With FRIDAY’s help, Bruce finds Tony on the floor of Sam’s bedroom, anxiously fumbling with his StarkPhone, looking nearly as pale as the kid Bruce just put to sleep.

“Can I come in?” Bruce asks softly.

“No.” But Tony doesn’t push him away when he sits next to him and lays a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“This hit a little close to home, huh?” Bruce ventures.

Tony huffs. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay.”

They sit in silence for a bit. Tony’s breaths are still coming too fast.

“You know my father was an alcoholic, right?” Bruce says after a while.

“Yeah. I read your files.” Tony glances at him sideways. “Sometimes I don’t get how you can stand to hang out with me.”

“Oh, you are completely different from him, trust me.”

Tony huffs out a breath. “You know, the kid, what he told me one time?” Bruce shakes his head. “He said he wanted to be like me. Well, looks like that’s exactly what’s happening. Oh shit, this is so fucked up….” Tony presses his knuckles into his eye sockets. Even his prosthetic hand is trembling.

“Tony, overdoing it one time doesn’t make someone an addict,” Bruce reassures. “Peter is a smart kid, and I’m sure he’s already regretting this evening. We should be glad that it happened here and not at some college party where nobody would’ve taken care of him. He’ll learn from it.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” Tony’s hand is now gesticulating wildly towards Bruce. “He’s got this thing, this hero thing, it fucks him all up. He’s been having nightmares since he came back, says he’s dreaming of Titan. I don’t think he would’ve done anything like what he did tonight before the snap. I - god, Bruce, I don’t want this to destroy him as well.”

“It won’t. He’s strong, Tony, and he’s got you.”

“Oh, that’s just great. Because I’m so well known for my healthy coping strategies. A former alcoholic is surely a great role model for a traumatised kid.”

“You’re more than that, and you know it,” Bruce asserts. “He looks up to you for who you are now, not for who you used to be.”

“I got so mad at him,” Tony admits in a quieter voice. He presses his eyelids together and clenches his fists. “Fuck, I sounded exactly like my father.”

“I doubt that Peter will remember. And if he does, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“I don’t wanna screw this up.” Tony looks at Bruce, all his masks gone for a moment. “Him - and Morgan - I just want to get it right this time.”

“You will, Tony,” Bruce assures quietly. “You’re doing great.”

“Dr Banner, Peter is showing signs of waking up,” FRIDAY’s voice interrupts them.

“Let’s go.” Bruce stands up and extends a hand to Tony, who takes it after a moment of hesitation. “You got this. Put your five years of parenting experience to good use.”

“Okay. Fine.” Tony takes a deep breath. His eyes are suspiciously wet, but his smile is already back at 50%. “But you’re changing the bedsheets if he pukes on them.”

———-

Link to all my fics

@toomuchtoread33 (because I’ve got a taglist now)