never trust a big butt and a smile (that girl is poison)
Peter’s biological alarm went off, setting his head straight, and he rolled out of bed energetically. He stripped out of his pyjamas and left them chucked on the floor next to a pile of papers that he would probably never look at and picked out a shirt with a cheesy science pun on it that would no doubt make him get picked on, but did he give a shit? No.
Peter went in the bathroom and rummaged through the shelves in the dirty cabinet, looking for his toothbrush and toothpaste, which normally was hard to come by in the Parker household. He found it anyway, but had to cut the toothpaste open because Mario or someone had left the lid off, drying it all up, and they didn’t have enough money to afford to get a new one. Maybe Ximena would help out with that too: their cousins seemed to be rolling in money lately.
He spat out the toothpaste after 30 seconds because he had something in his throat and Ximena was banging at the door, so he checked himself out in the mirror before he left the bathroom, leaving the mat rolled over itself. Peter smiled at Ximena, who grumbled something in Spanish before going in, slamming the door behind her.
“You’ll take the door off it’s hinges, for fuck’s sake!” Peter shouted through the keyhole. He then turned to see Mario coming to hug him. “Hey, Mar. Have you got some clean clothes?”
“Yeah.” Mario said, shrugging out of Peter’s hold. Peter smiled at him and creaked his way down the stairs, hearing the telltale signs of Caterina making breakfast. He inhaled deeply, now rummaging through his pockets for a cigarette.
He lit it and walked into the kitchen, nodding at Caterina as he made his way towards the fridge, looking for something to drink. “All there is in here is fucking beers!” he shouted, slamming the door shut. “Where the fuck is the apple juice?” Caterina looked puzzled.
“What?” she asked, flipping the bacon Ximena had provided for them all over, staring at him with wide eyes. “We ran out of it yesterday, I thought you knew? Besides, it’s bill day anyways, so you can pay them then go to get some more.” Caterina explained calmly, however, unsettling thoughts were running through her head. Perhaps Ximena had been right. Perhaps Peter was showing too many signs of being similar to their mother. Perhaps that scared her.
“For fuck’s sake, none of you have any common sense!” he yelled before kicking the fridge. “Fuck,” he muttered before grabbing the electric bill pot on the side of the counter, counting the bills before shoving them in his pocket. “I’m going out!”
“School?” Ximena came downstairs, an eyebrow raised at him. She grabbed a piece of toast off the counter and sat down on a crickety chair, turning around to face him. Her and Caterina shared a look.
“Fuck school,” Peter said. Then he noticed the look they shared. “Oh my God, can you lot either spit it out or shut the fuck up, I see how you’re looking at each other. Is there something on my face?” Peter turned and walked out the door, wondering to himself why everyone was pissing him off today. He slammed the door again, not giving a fuck if everyone knew he was annoyed.
Imagine if he got jumped on the way there, he thinks that would be the last straw.
The woman at the reception counter was impervious, and he hated her. She wore her hair in a tight bun, always, and always wore a purple blazer with the ugliest floral shirt and skirt. It didn’t match. Her glasses had one of those things where you could hang it around your neck and she wore a pearl necklace. Thinking back to his earlier thoughts, she would 100% get jumped.
He chuckles. He could imagine her getting jumped, and that would be so funny to see. He wanted to see it. Peter would probably laugh at her and record it, to be fair.
“I’ve actually got the right amount this time, so please don’t argue with me,” Peter grumbled, whipping out the notes and slamming them on the counter and giving her a smug smile. The woman put her glasses on her face and counted the bills out, adding them to the till and pushing a form forward. He got a pen from the cup holder next to him, slipping three in his pocket (if he needed some for school, why shouldn’t he get them for free?). He signed the dotted lines and pushed it back towards her.
“Next,” she grumbled. Peter scoffed. Some people were so rude, weren’t they?
xim: bills pahyed?
pietro: ofc they are, sm peopel can avtrually do thinhs consistentyl
xim: dont be so rude im ur superior ffss
pietro: so ur not fiving be drugs?
xim: i didnt say im responsible xx
pietro: of c not
xim: get home soon, smth to tell u lot
pietro: …akr?
He gripped onto the handlebar on the bus, trying to plant his heels into the ground to stay stabilised. It seemed like the universe was out to get him today, and it seemed like the driver was a shit one just to piss him off. It was everyone’s sole mission to just be a dick, wasn’t it?
It seemed like it. Peter’s anger flared up again as someone who had just got on and had been standing up for barely two minutes took the seat that an elderly man had just vacated to get off, whereas he had been standing up for twenty and hadn’t got the chance to sit down and was about to but some asshole had sat down there.
His thoughts drifted, and he resolved to reorganise the whole house, and maybe he would go outside and fix the old swing set that just needed a screw tightened. Maybe he would ask Felicia to come over like old times, or maybe he would make a chicken casserole or something. He didn’t know, the possibilities were endless!
The bus stopped, and Peter hummed a tune under his breath as he got off, thanking the bus driver enthusiastically. He whistled as he walked down the roads, into his house, and closed the door behind him.
His good mood, however short it may have been, was quickly abated as he saw the whole family (he said that, it was just Caterina and Valentina on the phone and Ximena playing with Carlotta and Elisabetta) sat on the sofa. He blinked rapidly, eyebrows furrowing.
“What? What’s going on?” Peter said worriedly, before making a joke. “What, May on the runner again?” he laughed to himself, even though nobody else did. “Fuck!”
“I’m going, Pietro,” Ximena explained cautiously. She had witnessed his bad mood in the morning and didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it again. Especially when he was.. unstable. Ximena didn’t want to leave at such a delicate time for the other half of her family, but it had to be done. Her sister, Malena, couldn’t handle the entire family for as long as she wanted to stay for. “Malena is up to her head in work; she can’t handle it.”
“What about us?” Peter snapped immediately. He sat down in the peeling leather armchair. “Don’t you think we need help? I need help?”
Ximena and Caterina both thought he needed more help than financial, but they weren’t going to mention that. Maybe he was having some teenage mood swing.
They didn’t believe that.
“We’ll all try to be here for Thanksgiving, or Halloween, Pietro.” Ximena whispered. She held her arms open for a hug as Peter lent his head on his hand and tears started to fill his eyes. Her heart broke. “Come here, nino.” she held her arms out and her shoulder got soggy from his sobs.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” he cried, his breaths coming out in gasps. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” Peter held his hand up to his mouth. Ximena hung up the phone. She hoped the girls would understand, and knowing them, she knew they would.
As he calmed himself down, Ximena picked up her handbag and dropped a hundred dollar bill into the electric pot and opened the door, pursing her lips in a smile at Peter before she closed it.
Peter sighed. He grabbed his phone as he wiped the tears from his eyes, thinking about how embarrassing that was before he started to get angry, and got up to pace. Why could she just leave at the drop of a hat? He was overwhelmed in work, too. That didn’t mean he could just quit, right? Like, what the hell?
He opened the chats with Felicia, most of them containing the same messages. Flirty, lustful, sometimes friendly.
pietro: no ones here, come oevr
felicia: bet ;)
Peter shrugged his shirt back on as Felicia hopped off the counter, dodging the several plastic containers that had been knocked on the floor during their liaison, which happened often, forming a close friendship between the two (even though they did shag on like, the weekly). She walked towards the fridge, tying her platinum blonde hair, an almost white, up in a messy bun before taking a bottle of vodka out.
“You up for it?” she asked slyly, a smirk forming on her face. Peter replied accordingly, sitting on the counter near the window ledge.
“Have we not been doing this for months now, Fi?” he grabbed the bottle opener and cracked it open, taking a swig from the drink before it rushed down his throat, giving him a satisfying burn before passing it to Felicia. He lit a joint and inhaled, and the two sat like that, music playing from the television where he had Carlotta entertained while Elisabetta slept upstairs, as they passed the bottle and joint to each other accordingly.
This was a long established routine, and Peter wasn’t complaining. Sex with a hot girl, alcohol, and weed? Sounds like his idea of a night, to be fair. And Felicia was amazing company. They shared the same humour, and had known each other since elementary school. When Peter’s brother had died, Ned hadn’t got it. Felicia’s brother had also died. She did.
He kissed her and was about to deepen it when his phone started to vibrate in his back pocket, and he sighed, pulling away.
“Sorry, babe,” Peter groaned. “I have to take this.” he said as Tony’s contact name filled the screen. Felicia shrugged, replying that it’s fine as she took the vodka bottle, taking a large swig.
“Hi, Mr Stark?” he tried to keep the slur out of his voice as he inhaled on the joint. The feeling gave him a rush, as he knew what his mentor would do to him if he had found out Peter smoked, did drugs, and drunk. He shivered with anticipation.
“Are you coming over tonight, Underoos?” Tony asked through the phone. Obviously there was no time for pleasantries, Peter grumbled in his head. “I thought we could do some tinkering with the suit, seeing as you haven’t been out in days: something must be wrong with it?”
Peter rolled his eyes as he exhaled, smoke wafting out of his nose. He saw Felicia sticking her finger up at him through the window. He resisted the urge to laugh. He was about to decline when Tony continued.
“The Avengers will be there,” he said. “They’ve been wanting to meet you, Spider-Kid. You musn’t disappoint.”
“Fine,” Peter said. “And could you actually try to call me Peter?” he groaned, and was about to say bye when he heard the dull tones of the hung up ringtone, the loud beep running through his ear. “Dick.” he scoffed.
Walking back in, Felicia had already got her shoes on. “You have to go?” she guessed. She had finished the joint herself and her eyes were puffy and red. Peter thanked the heavens that she was a literal angel. He kissed her. She kissed back.
“Come over next week!”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Parker,” she laughed. “You’re good company.”
Caterina walked through the door five minutes later and saw Peter bending down to pick up multiple plastic bowls that had fallen on the floor and grimaced.
“Sei disgustoso, (You’re disgusting)” Caterina groaned. “Could you at least shag in your room?” she said, but helped to pick up some of the sippy cups off the floor, finishing the job.
“Sorry,” Peter laughed, loving the expression on her face. He took a swig of the vodka. “I have to go to Mr. Stark’s soon, he said he’ll get Happy to pick me up.”
“And you plan to go drunk?”
“Good point.” Peter shrugged, but took another swig. It burnt. He liked it.
When everyone had come in from school and tended to the younger children, Caterina, Valentina and himself had gone outside to share a cigarette, waiting for Happy to arrive. Their car was distinguished, it stood out from the rest of the neighbourhood, which was why they were sat outside, so that Happy didn’t get jumped.
As Peter was immersed in his daydreams about the wonders of the universe in his clouded state, Caterina and Valentina were whispering, shooting concerned looks to their brother.
Peter didn’t notice.
The sunset was pretty that night.