Disillusioned

7pm

The Stark Industries Christmas party had become quite literally THE event of the year. Six years ago the departments had seperate Christmas parties with dinner paid by Stark Industries, six years ago Mr. Stark flew off to do whatever rich men did on Christmas and then the Avengers happened and by all the gossip Tony Stark found a family to stay in town for. Which meant by some flawed logic that the Christmas staff party had become a mix of cultures, people and games. 

This year someone had the genius idea to give the guests a scavenger hunt across the three floors open for the party. Each staff member participating had a lanyard with a scanning code on it; every room had a screen that flashed the list of twenty things they needed to find and the rules. There was also a photo booth in most of the rooms hooked into Jarvis who ran Stark Industries; staff would go into the booth, insert their lanyard, say which item they were ticking off then their photo would be taken as proof. 

Since there was close to a thousand people drinking, parting and playing the game in the tower for the Christmas party points would be awarded and taken in accordance to originality. If only the one person had that item they might get fifty points but if ten people all used the same item then they’d get only one point. 

When Peter arrived with Vernon and Erica from his lab, after accepting their invitation of a ride, he took one look at the game and was ready to run in the opposite direction when Vernon grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the table handing out lanyards. 

“Oh no you don’t Parker,” the dark skinned scientist grumbled hauling them up to the young woman singing people up. “Can we do it as a team?” 

She hesitated a moment before smiling happily.

“You’re the first to ask and its not in the rules not to work together,” she tapped their names into the computer handing over the lanyard with its filled out card. “Good luck.”

Erica grinned putting the lanyard around her neck before slipping her arm through Peters.

“You aren’t getting out of fun Parker,” she purrs into his ear. “Vern and I noticed you coming out of your shell lately and about damn time too.” 

Vernon hummed agreement from where he strolled along beside them.

They entered an elevator with a group of people some who had lanyards some who didn’t. There was no telling how the night would end; but Peter knew that he wasn’t leaving in the first two hours like he had for the last five years and he though just maybe he was ok with that. 

—-

11pm 

Peter regretted staying almost immediately however four hours later he was slumped on a chairs arm feet dangled over Vern’s lap wondering what he’d have to do to steal the food off of Erica’s plate. A cautioning look from Vern made Peter decide he would rather keep living. 

They’d decided to stay until the winner was announced and that would be beginning shortly. 

As if summoned the giant screens around the room flashed Tony Starks vodka bright face. 

“Employees!” He saluted the camera with a brimming martini glass. “Cheers! Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Have a great Friday!” 

Peter shook his head a the tipsy antics but took a drink anyway. The drink in his hand looked like some fruity drink in a large glass but it was straight vodka with a blue liqueur to colour it. Suped up metabolism worked on alcohol as well as food. His body processed it too quickly to get drunk for more than an hour.

“It’s time to have a look at the scavenger hunt and see who the winner is!” He waves a hand and the screens all split into a splattering of images causing Peter to choke on his drink. “And now we all get to see the best pictures taken! Sorry folks you didn’t think no one would see them did you?” 

—-

8:30pm 

Peter grinned as they went into the photo both; he’d dragged Vern and Erica in saying they’d mark one off that no one else would have, enjoying their puzzled looks. 

The electronic voice sounded over the fevered hubbub of the party. 

“Please insert id and state which item you are checking off.” 

Peter slipped forward and clumsily inserted the card off the lanyard into the slot. 

Erica and Vern stood on either side of him bemused faces mirrored in the photo display. 

“Item one!” Peter proclaimed slightly drunk. “Who has two thumbs and seven PhDs? This guy!” 

The photo was hilarious. Peter grinning and pointing his two thumbs back to himself with Erica and Vern staring incredulously at him in shock. 

—-

 11pm

Erica patted Peters back consolingly but she didn’t say anything. They all knew what was coming. The more they drank the more they hadn’t cared. They didn’t think the whole party would be seeing the pictures. 

Peter groaned into Vern’s shoulder. He just knew it would be the talk of the tower what everyone got up to at the Christmas party. The photos would no doubt circulate. He just hoped he was unknown enough that no one would be looking for their team’s pictures.

—-

9:45

Erica strode into the room glancing around briefly to locate the two boys before sashaying over oozing glamour and confidence.

Peter had never noticed her appearance before; she was always just a scientist he worked with, the-growling-anti-mornings-before-coffee-person. He was quickly realising with every new conversation that she was much more than that. Both of his lab partners were more than he had assumed. 

He felt a brief stab of guilt that he quickly dismissed; there was no reason to dwell on his past actions if they weren’t going to hold it against him. 

“Well I just watched six people drag Dr. Banner into the photo booths so it looks like everyone’s using him for the PhDs or something green,” she flipped her curled hair over her shoulder. “Amateurs.” 

“Never fear my dear,” was the duet sung in reply by the two drunk men she had approached.

While Peter dissolved into giggles Vernon stood unsteadily to drag the three of them over to the photo booth in the room. There was someone already using it so they sagged disjointedly against the wall beside the door. 

“Well which one are we doing then?” Erica asked. 

“It’s a surprise,” Peter whispers leaning over Vern to poke her exposed shoulder. 

The door opened and the three shuffled into the booth. The electronic voice started its spiel as the two men pushed Erica to the front and situated themselves on either side of her. 

“Are we ready?” Peter asks sliding in the id from the lanyard. “Number sixteen: something green!” 

The camera flashed at the screen displayed their photo: Erica’s disgusted face with a green tongue on either side. 

Yep no one else would have a photo like that; everyone else had at least an ounce of class. 

—-

11:05pm

Peter groaned as photos filtered past; some of them classy, some smart and a large amount as crazy and unpredictable as their own had been. 

The photos still flashed on some screens but the video feed of Tony came back online holding a small tablet. 

“Ok so I hate build up so here we go: third place Melissa Crudgoen with two hundred and fifty points, second place James Berkeley with three hundred and ten points, and finally first place with four hundred and ninety five points the only team to register: Peter Parker with Erica and Vernon Boyd!” Across the room a riot of  applause and shouting drowned out all other sounds.  

The screens switched to show each winners photos; flashes of colour and strange poses. Peter to cringed with almost physical pain at the shenanigans that had been captured. 

Peter didn’t notice the screens switch to a live feed of the winners as he whirled around to point accusingly at his lab partners. 

“You’re married!” He shouts. “Why didn’t I know you are married?” 

—-

“Do you have any damn idea how drunk I have to get to stay drunk to justify a drunk call?” Peter growled out as soon as the call connected. “It’s very!” 

“And why do you have to be drunk to call me,” the voice on the other side of the line murmured. Soft sounds filtered across and Peter had the sudden and all to real visual of having woken the other man up. It was 3am after all. 

“Because you’re a bad guy!” Peter exclaimed taking a deep pull from the bottle in his lax grip. He dropped lazily into the small couch crammed into the equally small balcony at Erica and Vernon’s apartment. They’d refused to let him go home alone after the amount they’d been drinking and pressed him into the couch only shrugging when he declared he needed to make a bad decision while he was too drunk to talk himself out of it. He taken himself to the balcony to avoid waking them up. 

“The world isn’t black and white Spidey,” came the chuckling reply after a brief few minutes of awkward silence. Peter hadn’t realised he’d been lost in thought. “It’s actually shade of grey.” 

“Fifty of it I think,” Peter mused snickering at his own joke. His jokes were awesome. “Knock knock.” 

“Who’s there?” 

There was a pause where the drunk man stared incredulously at te near distance face contorted into a scowl. 

“What how the hell don’t you know who called you?” Peter took a quick gulp from the bottle and pointed off into the night ready to lecture. “Don’t you screen your calls? Wait don’t you have my number saved! What the hell I have your number saved!” 

“If I screened my calls I might never get a job,” there was a pause and muffled curse across the line before the voice continued; “plus there’s only room for one nutter butter in this fanfic and yellow says it’s clearly me so are you going to talk sense?” 

“When are you going to talk sense,” Peter muttered petulantly. 

“Well I just answered a call from ‘The totally touchable and legal Spidey Booty’ so I don’t think sense comes into it baby boy,” The joking turned serious. 

“I feel like his conversation is getting away from me,” Peter shook his head and eyed the half empty bottle before draining it. “Oh shit that burns!” He rasps out coughing. 

The other man laughed freely. 

“You know,” Peter was found himself saying as the laughter died down unwilling to stop himself. “‘Peter’ is a lot easier to remember.” 

“Peter?” Deadpool’s voice turned confused in a way Peter had yet to hear from the man. “Why would I use Peter?”

“Well cos it my name,” The scientist smiled at the night sky lit by the bustling city; enjoying his reckless freedom. “And if you're not a bad guy I think we're going to be friends and friends call friends by their names Wade.” 

The was a brief silence over the phone followed by a gruff cough. 

“So, uh, what do you have my name saved as?” Came the bland and suspiciously incurious voice. Peter wasn't fooled for a second.  

“Alliteration Allies Anonymous.”