Stark And The Spider

Hangover

(Stark's P.O.V.)

I wake up in an unfamiliar place, with a migraine, nausea, and no memory of last night.

And I'm terrified.

It's not because I was clearly sick.

It's not because I didn't know where I was.

It's not because I lost my memory.

It's because I'm pretty sure I'm clenching on to a human arm that isn't mine, and I think there is a living, breathing person beside me in bed.

My breathing is hitched, as I slowly turn my head to look over my shoulder.

Beside me I see a shirtless Peter Parker sleeping.

My eyes widen and I practically scream, "WHAT THE F*CK!??"

Peter shoots up, his eyes extremely wide, "Holy sh*t!"

"WHAT THE F*CK JUST HAPPENED!??"

I jolt up too, pulling the blanket up too and wrapping it around me. Nervously, I look down, and thank the almighty gods, I'm still wearing the same clothes as the night before.

Peter takes deep breaths, then opens his mouth to talk, "(Y/n)--"

"PETER PARKER WHAT THE ACTUAL F*CK HAPPENED!??"

"(Y/n) you need to calm down--"

"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN--"

Peter sighs and stands up, getting out of bed. I slap my hands over my eyes.

Peter laughs, "(Y/n), I'm not naked."

Slowly, I begin to uncover my eyes. I let out a breath of relief once I see that he's wearing pants.

"Okay," I say as soft as a whisper, "what...happened? Or do I not want to know..."

Peter laughs. "What's the last thing you remember?" He asks as he stretches.

Holy hell he's ripped as f--

"(Y/n)?" He asks, catching my stare.

"Right! Well I uh, I remember you having to go to the bathroom, and, um, a few guys kept coming up and giving me more drinks, and I think they were talking to me or about me, but I don't remember...." I try to keep my eyes on his eyes, instead of his incredibly toned abs.

Peter sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "well, by the time I got back, which was only two minutes by the way, you had already had eleven cups, and were incredibly drunk."

I bury my face in my hands.

"So I took you back here, despite Harrison wanting to just take you upstairs and 'take care of you' or whatever." He continues, looking a little angry at the Haz part.

"Okay, but where exactly is here?" I ask.

Peter gives me a strange look, "it's your house..."

"Oh," I say, racking my brain for any memory. "Peter, do you mind if I call my dad really quick?"

"Sure. I'll wait in your living room." He walks around the bed that takes up a good portion of the room, and then exits the room, closing the door behind him.

My eyes widen, "Peter, where's my phone?" I call through the door.

"Your bag on the nightstand," he calls back.

I turn to my right to see a beige nightstand, and my small purse on it. I forgot I brought that to the party. To be fair though, I forgot a lot of things.

I pick up the purse and shuffle through it until I come across the familiar cold metal of my phone.

Not an ordinary phone, as you would expect, but made to look like one to help disguise me. In reality, it has over 3000 added functions that ordinary phones don't have, an extremely advanced camera, a projector, and many more little items. Not to mention a direct emergency call straight to the Avengers, and a super awesome case. An all black case with white eyes and a frown, along with the sentence, 'don't touch my phone.'

I click on contacts and scroll until Iron-Dad comes up.

"Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up." I mutter.

["Hey sweetheart. I was wondering when you'd call."]

"Where the hell am I?" I whisper yell.

["Sheesh, you're really hungover aren't you. Well, last night Pete insisted on bringing you home, so I had to rent you an apartment to stay the night in."]

"O-Oh. So, once we're done with it...you're going to get rid of it?"

["That was the plan. Something wrong?"]

"Well...I was just thinking...now that Peter's been here...if I ever need another fake house...it can't be different, right? So...what if we keep it? As like a safe house or something."

["...I guess that would work. It's cheap anyway. I could easily do that if that's what you want."]

"Yes please dad. Could you maybe buy it instead of just renting? That might be easier so we can turn it into a real safe house."

["Consider it done. Is Peter still there?"]

I cough, "yeah. He, uh, stayed the night."

["...I don't like the way you phrased that..."]

"Gotta go, dad, bye!"

["Wait--"]

I hang up the phone and get out of bed. Then I join Peter in the living room.

"Okay," I say, plopping down on the beige couch next to him. "Tell me the rest."

I scan my eyes around the small living room. As far as I can see, everything is beige.

Why is everything beige?

"There's not much left to tell." Peter says, "I brought you here, then you just started talking nonsense."

"What kind of nonsense?" I ask.

"Crazy nonsense."

"...Okay. And you're shirtless because.....?"

Peter looks down, as if he's just now noticing that his unusually insane hot torso is shirtless.

He laughs, "well, you kinda stole my shirt."

"I what?"

"Yeah, you stole my shirt. You were clenching on to it for most of the night, but when I woke up in the middle of the night to get it, it was gone, so I think you hid it somewhere. Can I have it back by the way?" Peter crosses his arms awkwardly as an attempt to cover himself slightly.

Hot damn.

Shut up!

I ignore my mental argument and answer his question. "I, uh, don't know where it is..."

"...right..." Peter sighs, "I think I might have an extra in my bag..." He picks up his bag, which was beside him on the couch.

The couch is a mediocre level of comfort, very beige, but I feel myself sink into the cushions a bit as I attempt to steady my booming headache.

As Peter ruffles through his bag, I catch a small glimpse of red and blue. However he pulls out a regular green t-shirt.

He pulls it over his head and helps me up. "C'mon, let's get something to eat. You lost quite a lot."

'Where are we going?" I ask, leaning on him for support.

Peter smiles and looks down at me, "best sandwiches in Queens." He winks, "I'm taking you to Delmar's."