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There were many mistakes that Peter had made in his life; the injuries he got on patrol, getting caught sneaking out by Aunt May, saying 4+8 was 6 in his last math assessment, adding some of the powdered cocaine he was keeping a hold of until he could hand it over to the police to his coffee and swinging across New York for an Avengers meeting.
Yeah, that was top mistake currently.
There had been absolutely no realisation of his mistake until the air seemed to turn from gas to liquid and his limbs lost their bones, before he smashed into an abandoned building while swinging at nearly 100mph.
He was justifying today’s stupid mistake with the fact that the last time his body had been laid down in the sweet embrace of unconsciousness was when he was hit over the head with a slab of concrete 4 days ago. And that had only been a generous 6 minutes of being slapped in the face by Deadpool.
Anyway, that didn’t matter.
Peter’s complaint of the day came from the fact there should be drug presentations about how you shouldn’t attend Avenger meetings high and injured. Sure, not many people had the experience but surely this had happened to Clint once, Clint seemed like the kind of guy to accidentally get high before having to attend one of these Avenger meetings.
There should also be a drug presentation about how you shouldn’t hide illegal powdered cocaine from your aunt in the exact same type of jar as the sugar and then put a tiny label telling her not to open. Maybe a large label? He would have noticed a large label. Probably.
Reading was a difficult task after day 2 of no sleep.
That’s exactly what he should do tonight instead of sleeping. Make presentations about how to store drugs and the dangers of attending Avengers meetings high and/or injured.
Natasha had definitely clocked something was wrong. Negative number 14 of an emotive mask was the fact his droopy eyes were being shown. Next plan for tonight, remodel his mask so it wouldn’t show when he was high.
Though that shouldn’t be needed because this was a one off. His senses were already enhanced enough, he didn’t need to be able to know the texture of the colour green.
Minecraft oxidised copper blocks, obviously.
Wait. Why’s everyone looking at him? Has he lost his bones? Was he a pile of soup in the chair? No, he was definitely still sitting up right. And he could feel his bones because at least 6 ribs were broken alongside his right wrist. Right wrist, right wrist, that could be a tongue twister if you said that really fast over and over.
“Peter!” He blinked his eyes, probably in a comically slow manner because everything felt like he was moving through molasses. Yes, that’s what the air felt like, it wasn’t just a liquid, it was molasses. Wait- Not the time to think about that, someone was calling him again.
“Huh?” Yes, perfect Peter. Absolutely perfect English. Nailed it. He should probably continue listening in, the person might be trying to ask a question and he needed to answer the question because then they’d know his ribs were broken. And the fact his coffee contained enough cocaine to kill a man. Thinking of that he really shouldn’t add that much sugar to his coffee either.
“Peter! What’s up with you today? You keep zoning out.” Steve was talking to him and was very obviously concerned. Which was an emotion that he was very aware of because the man seemed to have been becoming more and more concerned about him as the months that they knew each other went on. He probably noticed that when he realised that he was a child dressing up in a spider suit at night.
He should have known Peter wasn’t a fully functioning human before meeting him. Had anybody in this room seen the complications of him falling out the sky?
“I think he has a concussion.” That was definitely Natasha it was closer, and she was sitting besides him. Was she always sitting besides him? Yes, she was because when he first sat down she picked a bit of concrete off his shoulder which he’d stolen from the building. He should go back to it and apologise after; he had enhanced healing, and the building didn’t.
The poor building. That was probably why so many ended up having to be demolished after Avenger fights, because they didn’t have enhanced healing so they couldn’t get better before the building inspectors came around.
He’d zoned out again and suddenly Bruce was standing in front of him, his chair having been spun around. Mr. Stark at some point must have asked Karen to disengage the nanotech that made up the mask so that the man could check his pupils.
He wouldn’t find anything because he didn’t have a concussion, he’d checked that. He’s fairly certain he checked that.
Or would he? Your pupils reacted to drugs, didn’t they? Oh, shit. They probably thought he had a concussion.
“I don’t have a concishon. No, that’s not how you pronounce it. Con-cusssh-yon. Nope. Con, con, con, concussion! Got it.” Okay. That probably didn’t help his argument. That definitely didn’t help his argument, Bruce was looking at him even more concerned and Clint had definitely just whispered to Bucky that he was an injury hiding idiot. Which was incredibly rude because Clint hid a bullet wound last month because he didn’t want to tell people that Natasha was right, and he should have gone left.
“That argument is not helping you underoos. Come on, we’re going to see Cho. So sorry, Capsicle but you’ll have to continue the meeting without us. Absolutely heartbroken, I will be crying myself to sleep tonight.” Mr. Stark was standing up and walking over to him now, maybe? His vision was spinning ever so slightly right now. Was it supposed to do that when he was high? This is why you should get high 4 times before getting high for the first time to ensure you knew what was going to happen.
Wait. No.
10 times.
“I don’t need to see Cho – Hm, Cho, that’s got some of the letters that are in pak choi, God, I’m hungry. Do we have any strawberry ice cream? I’d like strawberry ice cream – because I’ve only broken 6 ribs and my wrist and that doesn’t warrant a hospital visit.” The entire group was looking at him like he was crazy now but who cared? He was really hungry, and 4 bowls of strawberry ice cream right now would be luscious. When was the last time he ate? A day ago. Yeah, because he saw Deadpool yesterday and he gave him a burrito.
“You’re fucking high.” Clint cackled at his own statement, rather obviously finding this situation that he’d only just realised funny. Which technically, he could also see the humour in this. Spider-Man the guy taking down a drug ring every week, high on the exact same stuff he’d been preaching for people not to take.
The rest of the Avengers were now staring at him with some kind of horror. Did they also not see the humour in this? Maybe if they too were to drink coffee with cocaine, they’d also see it. He should trademark that. Spider-Man’s ‘Crack’ing Coffee. That would sell well.
Deadpool and Spider-Man would have to shut him down though, they don’t stand for drug rings.
“Do we have strawberry ice cream? I’m hungry and I can hold the tub against my chest to make the pain of my ribs go away. Or maybe I could get rid of my ribs. Spiders don’t need ribs so maybe I don’t need them either.” The crash from this high was going to be fucking horrific. How do people do this so often? Right. He was supposed to have tested it before taking his first dosage. Got to remember that for next time.
“Nope. We’re going to see Cho. I can’t believe your fucking high. Did auntie hottie agree to this? Or have you gone behind her back?” Ew. Mr. Stark really needed to stop with the auntie hottie nickname, the next time it came out his mouth Peter was covering him in an entire cocoon of spider webs so that he couldn’t even use his hands to sign the nickname.
“Of course, Aunt May doesn’t know. That’s a ridiculous assumption! I made coffee this morning, because I haven’t slept in 4 days, and I think I might need to pry my eyes apart tonight because everyone always says your first crash is your worst crash. That’s why it rhymes. Does it rhyme? Anyway, I accidentally added enough cocaine to kill a man instead of enough sugar to kill them.” The Avengers were still staring at him funny, sure sugar and cocaine weren’t a common mix up, but neither was dirt and cocoa powder, and Sam mixed those two up last month.
Sure, it was a prank and not a mistake on his behalf, but it was fairly similar.
Kinda.
“You mixed up cocaine and sugar? How do you even make such a mistake son?” Steve was now also staring at him. No, Steve had always been staring at him. God that man’s eyes were blue. Like a sour raspberry slushie. Sour raspberry slushies didn’t taste that nice, Steve should chance his eye colour to red because the strawberry flavour was much better.
Were the lights getting brighter? They were definitely getting brighter. And his head was definitely sore now. Maybe he did have a concussion. “The floor is falling out Mr. Stark. You should have built the Stark tower better.”
Oh no, that’s definitely me falling. I’m tired. Nap time.
Oh no my ice cream.
--
He came around to the familiar sterile, fluorescent white lights of the medical wing in the tower and the beeping of the surrounding machines. There were people in the room with him, 4 heart beats to be specific so unless Doctor Who had swung by (ha, swung, he’s not Spider-Man, I’m Spider-Man) there were 4 people.
The Avengers meeting (which he had no memories of the actual meeting contents) flashed into his mind and he could do nothing but groan as he sat up and scrubbed the sleep from his eyes. His ribs finally screaming their protest of their poor treatment and his wrist unmoveable in the red cast that Doctor Cho would have wrapped around it at some point.
“Look at that, the star of the show is awake.” Mr. Stark was grinning from where he was standing on the other side of the room, Peter didn’t have to be a mind reader like Wanda to know the man’s smile was a mocking smile because he was now getting what he deserved for his stupid mistake.
Bruce, Clint, and Sam had all also been in the room he’d been confined to (because it was confined, Mr. Stark also had that glint in his eyes that meant he was going to be trapped in here for at least a day) but with a smile in his direction they were all heading out the room.
Leaving him to be shouted at by Mr. Stark for his stupidity alone.
“I’m not going to shout at you-” Wow, Mr. Stark might be a mind reader like Wanda. “Because I think how shit you’re going to feel over the next day or two will be punishment enough. However, I will be lecturing you on the fact not sleeping to the point you can’t tell you’ve drugged yourself, so get comfortable.”
“You can’t lecture me for that. You drank motor oil when you hadn’t slept last time.” Mr. Stark just blinked in response before he stepped to the side as the door that the last trio had left through slid open, exposing Miss. Potts.
Mr. Stark may not be able to lecture him on not sleeping enough, but Miss. Potts definitely could.
So, in the theme of making stupid choices today (because he was about 64% certain that it wasn’t a new day yet. His body didn’t let him sleep that long regardless of the crash he was coming out from) he flung himself out the open window as Mr. Stark and Miss. Potts shouted after him.
“SEE YOU TOMORROW MR. STARK! BYE MISS. POTTS! SAY THANK YOU TO DOCTOR CHO FOR ME! Karen, turn off trackers. I’m going to go and fucking hibernate for the next 8 years. This headache is a killer.”