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[WORD COUNT: 3.6k]
'I'm begging you...'
▹ ◃
ADMITTEDLY PETER COULD have said he was much more confident in his words than he was in his actions, because here now, walking, shadowing behind your body... He was a nervous mess. Peter had never really had any good experiences when it came to parties in the past. Usually it would be the occasional birthday party, which had never been the same after the age of seven... Not having any parents to celebrate along with you the day they brought you into the world kinda sucked. Other than that it was a wedding, like the day Aunt May's friend Margret got married in June. They were just... boring. But, Peter understood a teenage party... Was going to be completely different.
There were so many eyes, watching and looking, and now he was suddenly thinking about what he had chosen to wear, the way he styled his hair in the mirror, what if he didn't fit in, what if he lost you in the crowd?...
Reaching forward Peter grabbed onto the back of your shirt for support and mental comfort that he could keep in you in eye range while you wondered through the crowds of teenagers. There was the occasional bump on the shoulder or someone would stand in front of you causing you to stop. He couldn't see exactly where you were headed, so that also made him slightly more nervous.
For fuck sake Peter man up.
You felt the tug on your shirt and you thought it was kinda cute, Peter being Peter and all he was probably shitting bricks. Inside, deep down, you did feel somewhat of a pang of guilt for bringing him here with you. You could have easily avoided it or even come alone or heck, not at all. But, all for the cause of sexual needs... However, you knew exactly what would calm him down enough for him to maybe find comfort. Reaching back, you tugged Peter's fingers off of your shirt and brought your hand into his, locking your fingers. He was already sweating.
"Here," you finally exhaled, lifting your head over the remaining crowd as you managed to find a clearing in the sea at the drinks table. There were bottles among bottles and liquids poured out among the bases creating somewhat of a river on the table top. It was a mess. You couldn't see anything in particular that caught your eye, so you just picked the first bottle in front of you, bringing it to your nose and taking a deep inhale.
"Hm, thoughts?" You asked, holding it up to Peter while you scanned the rest of the table. Peter bent over lightly, catching the scent of the alcohol inside the bottle. It was vile, so strong and quite frankly disgusting. But, then again, he never had liked the natural scent that alcohol gave off. The taste, well, he'd never tried it.
"Uh, I don't know... Try that one," Peter pointed to a red bottle in the middle of the table which looked more pleasing. You placed the first bottle down and reached over.
