i take my pills (and i'm happy all the time)
(3:14 am) “Are you done?”
Peter groaned from where his head was shoved into the toilet, heaving again. Caterina banged on the bathroom door, yanking the knob harshly.
“Can you stai zitto for one minute! (shut the fuck up)” Peter whispered with a hoarse voice as he used the handrail on the side to help him up before leaving and collapsing back into his bed, bundling up in his sheets before going back to sleep.
(6:45 am) Peter’s alarm blared in his room and he flailed his arm around to try and turn it off. He put his pillow over his eyes, a meaningless effort to try to prevent his banging headache to no avail. He put his pillow back under his head frustratingly and stared up at his ceiling despite hearing all of the commotion downstairs, thanks to his enhanced senses.
Caterina walked into their room, staring at him. “6:45, Pietro. Everyone’s got a hangover, it isn’t the end of the world.” she sighed promptly as Peter didn’t even move to look at her. She strolled to the end of his bed before pulling his duvet onto the floor, making Peter curl up into a ball.
“I’m not in the mood, ‘Rina.” Peter said, though he did get up to put a jumper on slowly before stomping downstairs even slower, Caterina following behind him with a frown.
“Puoi camminare più veloce, per favore? (can you walk faster please?)” Caterina mumbled. Peter stopped on the stair, a small grin on his face.
Peter sniffed as he smelt food cooking from the kitchen, to where he promptly walked into Ximena making a full spread with eggs, bacon, toast, sausages. “What the fuck?”
“What?” Ximena said obliviously.
“The bills? Energy bill, groceries?” Peter stressed, watching the kids in the living room watching TV cluelessly. Valentina walked in then, a large t-shirt drowning her. Peter guessed it used to belong to him.
“Don’t worry,” Ximena winked. “We’ve come into a bit of money, and Gabriela would want it to go to you.”
“Gabriela?” Caterina asked, sipping her mug of coffee. “I thought she was in jail?”
“You can still talk to people that are in jail, Caterina.” Ximena said, pointing the spatula at her. “Bills are covered, groceries are covered. Let this one be on me.” she muttered softly.
“Well, I’m not complaining, cugina.” Caterina laughed, grabbing a plate and piling food onto it. “Dio mio, maybe I’ll get lunch at school this week!” she grinned at Peter before tucking in. Peter followed in her actions as Ximena called Mario, Luigi and Carlotta in and picked up Elisabetta and put her onto her lap and started bouncing her.
“Can you watch Elisabetta today, Mena?” Peter asked as he shoved a bit of toast in his mouth, not caring if he was talking with his mouth open. “I keep skipping to look after her, and my teachers are getting pissed.”
“Yeah, sure,” Ximena frowned, bouncing the baby on her lap with a grin on her face as she cooed at her. “Your grades slipping?” she queried, and sighed when he nodded reluctantly.
“No quise hacerlo!” he spoke quickly though. Ximena replied with a small ‘I know’ before she stopped the conversation, doing the aeroplane with the spoonful of baby food she had on the pink plastic spoon into Elisabetta.
“There’s molly in the bathroom if you’re desperate for something to take the edge of, Pietro.” Ximena winked, bringing the tension down, even if it was the mention of drugs. Peter choked but laughed, winking back at her.
“I just might have to take you up on that considerate offer.”
*
Peter put his sunglasses on as he got on the schoolbus, automatically looking for Ned, who was sat in the middle with his face looking out of the dirty window. “Morning, Ned.” Peter said, sitting down and placing his bag on his lap with the intent to lay his head on it.
“Hi, Peter.” Ned cheerfully said. “Last night was so cool! I can’t believe everything you said about your family is actually true, I mean, some things you said literally seemed impossible but they actually happened?”
Peter shushed him with a hand as his sunglasses slipped off his nose, revealing his closed eyes. “Hangover. You know I love you, but please shut up.” Peter put the glasses back on his face in an attempt to hide his dilated pupils from his friend, who nodded before sitting back.
*
By the time lunch rolled around, Peter had came-down from his molly high and was now suffering the consequences and the hangover from last night. MJ laughed at him as he slammed his tray onto the table and climbed into the bench, moving the food out of the way and slamming his head onto it.
“Ned, you think my family’s crazy, there was this one time where Valentina drew a whole hopscotch thing with Ximena’s coke stash after she took Ricardo on a weekend bender. It was mental. Then Ricardo was caught snorting it like three hours later after we took her inside. That was funny.” Peter snorted as his friends chortled about the party last night, even though they wanted to discuss the topic of Peter apparently doing drugs, which concerned them even if MJ didn’t want to admit it.
The silence after he spoke made him come to the conclusion that they were stunned, but Peter didn’t want to lift his head to look at them: it was already to bright in the cafeteria, and everyone talking was making his head hurt even more. Fuck enhanced senses, right?
“Bold of you to assume that I can lift my head to gauge your reactions.” Peter sighed. Ned and MJ grabbed him by his shoulders as the bell rang, dragging him to his last period, which he happily shared with the pair, as he didn’t think he could move. His head was fucking pounding, and that wasn’t a good thing. Everything hurt.
“Why the fuck didn’t you lot stop me last night?” Peter whined as he was dropped into his seat, Ned and MJ sitting next to him. MJ laughed.
“Loser.”
No sympathy there, Peter thought. He wouldn’t have expected anything less, to be fair. Ned stared at him sympathetically, however, and he appreciated it even though nothing could be done.
“Kill yourself, MJ.” Peter retorted.
“No.”
*
When Peter saw the familiar car, he groaned loudly. It made his head hurt and that made him groan even more. MJ cackled and pushed him towards the tinted windows.
“Again, MJ, kill yourself!” Peter shouted. MJ walked away, her middle finger over her shoulder. He opened the car door and slid inside. “Hey, Happy. Nice day?”
Happy grunted and rolled up the partition. Peter sighed, it gave him more reason to relax. “Damn, what crawled up his ass and stayed there?” Before he pulled out his phone and started texting Ximena.
pietro: kys drugs didnt help
xim: well i didnt say they’d help all th4 time did i
pietro: wdll its dtill your sault init
xim: no u decided to take them idiot
pietro: kys
xim: no
pietro: elisabetta alr?
xim: yh shes fine handful tho
pietro: wouldnt be a parker f she werent
xim: true
xim: shes crying gtg
pietro: see u l8er
Peter then clicked on his group chat with Ned and MJ, labelled ‘nest nerds ofthe century’, which hadn’t been changed despite the shit spelling. It was sort of iconic, and the fact he could type like that while he was drunk was a fucking miracle.
div: guys im actually gonna ksm this isnt funy
loser: dont peter we need u
ew: tell that to urself ned we’d be fine w out him HAHAHAH
div: nvm kys mj hate u all
ew: no i h8 u 2
div: ur lucky im @ the tower noe slqg
loser: have fun peter!!!
ew: die peter xxx
div: why dont u xx
He put his phone in his pocket and got out of the car, waving bye to Happy, who just turned around. Peter rolled his eyes, because what an asshole. He got in the elevator and returned FRIDAY’s greeting, wincing as he heard the loud tones of AC/DC’s Highway to Hell, which normally would’ve pumped him up, but today just made his arms hurt. And his head. And his legs.
“Hey Mr Stark!” Peter said and got onto a stool, putting his bag on the floor next to him. He rubbed his eyes and laid his head on the table.
“Hey, Underoos,” Tony said distractedly. He put his tools down when Peter did not start rambling about what had happened during his day. “Everything alright?”
“Can you turn the music down?” Peter asked, his eyes flitting to him. The bags under them were prominent, and Tony immediately complied with his request.
“Why don’t you tell me about your day?” Tony requested as he started drilling into the table distractedly. Peter winced and buried his head into his arm even more, trying to block his ears out. “What’s wrong?”
“Cristo! Sorry that I can’t be asked to talk when I’ve got a banging hangover!” he snapped. “Sorry.” Peter blinked. Tony frowned. It took a lot to induce a hangover in an enhanced person. He had no qualms with teenagers drinking, but, Peter, drinking that much?
“Wanna watch a movie? I’ll get pizza.” Tony offered. Peter nodded and picked his bag up again. Fucking hell, what a tiring day.