Smells like Teen Spirit
It turned out, to absolutely no surprise of Peter’s, that Flash’s house was huge.
“Whoa…” he stared ahead at the luxuriant and expensive-looking house with jaw-dropping awe. Only when a bug flew into his mouth did he shake himself back to reality.
The back of his wrist smacked hard against his lips as the fly continued to buzz around them.
The house was enormous. It would have easily put Liz Toome’s old place to shame, though there were noticeably fewer windows on the modern architecture design. Gaudy multi-colored lights surrounded them and shined all around, and the bass of heavy music blared even far away from where they stood. It all screamed Flash Thompson, something the rich teenager would happily go out of his way to do for a simple ‘goodbye summer vacation’ party.
A car door shut behind him, followed by a smooth and friendly voice.
“It is not that impressive,” Wanda casually stated, strolling up with both her arms crossed over her chest.
Peter shot his head over to her with record-breaking speed. “Dude...”
They both stood in the middle of what felt like a never-ending driveway leading up to the house. Other expensive looking cars were parked all around, some even having resorted to driving on the well-kept and overly-green lawn that he was pretty sure smelt and looked like fake grass.
Peter sighed, shaking his head. Flash always did talk up his dad, something about being a prominent hot-shot city lawyer. Though they never saw the man, not even at Decathlon meets, Flash had no problems gushing all about him. And his money.
It was a good thing they were able to borrow one of Mr. Stark’s Acura’s for the ride over. There was no way he’d survive the embarrassment of pulling up with May’s old, beaten down Pontiac.
“Okay,” Wanda caved with a smirk, swinging her hip against his. “It is...a little cool.”
Peter snorted a laugh, his hands tugging nervously at the casual brown blazer he’d decided to wear. It still felt like too much, like he was trying too hard. Yet the bass from the music ahead shook the ground below, and the disco lights flashed flares nearly a mile away from where they stood. So perhaps his ‘trying too hard’ would actually fit right in.
“You only say that ‘cause you live in a mansion yourself,” Peter mentioned, beginning to walk up the long driveway while other teenagers rushed and ran past them to get inside.
“As do you, my pavuk dytyny." Wanda’s many wrists bracelets jingled when she playfully tapped him against the shoulder.
“No, I don’t!” Peter adamantly shook his head. “I spend weekends there — not even all weekends, just some. It’s like...a super weird joint custody arrangement with Mr. Stark.” He turned to look at her, his finger wagging in her face as he insisted, “That doesn’t mean I live there.”
They stopped short of the grand double entrance doors, frosted side windows reflecting a multitude of different lights from the party inside. Wanda’s face glowed yellow, orange, red, and blue as her smile grew wider. Eventually, even her back teeth were visible from the toothy grin.
Peter knew that smile. He had grown to hate that smile. It meant that she knew him well enough to know differently of what he said, without ever having to use her powers to get inside his head.
“Okay, so I kind of live there but you gotta keep it between us, okay? It’s way too suspicious if people start finding out I have a room where I also have my Stark internship.” Peter grabbed the door handle and yanked it open, the music from inside immediately blasting louder and the lights shining brighter. He stepped to the side to let Wanda in first. “It took Flash ages to believe that was even real!”
Wanda stuffed her hands deep inside the olive green jacket she wore. “Do you want me to —”
“No!” Peter walked inside with her, letting the door shut behind them. “No. Let’s just...let’s be chill tonight. Please.”
“Chill.” Wanda nodded, smiling. “I can do chill.”
Peter may have had the desire for a low-key, chill night, but everything around them was honestly far from chill. Though Wanda looked around with an innocent sense of excitement, Peter seemed thrown off guard and slightly disappointed. He should have known better — this was one of Flash’s parties, after all.
A DJ was taking up the entire living room, for starters, one that looked a lot older than any of the classmates Peter knew. Which meant Flash likely hired the guy for the event; more accurately, Flash’s dad hired the guy. Despite the extremely large size of the house, there was actually very little room to walk. Every corner was crowded with girls that were wearing way too much perfume and boys that either stunk of B.O or bathed themselves in their dad’s colognes.
Peter hated parties like these. It may have been almost two years since The Bite, but he had yet to grapple his enhanced senses in a way that made these moments tolerable. It was probably a good thing that Ned didn’t come. Peter wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his cool with all this, which would only mean a greater headache at the end of the night.
“Is that him?” Wanda suddenly asked, her finger pointing high above them.
Peter looked up, the balcony over the vaulted living room leading to a second-story floor that had to be over twenty feet high from where they stood. Walking along the stainless steel balcony railing was a shorter, cockier looking kid wearing a purple silk button-down and skinny jeans, his movements animated and enthusiastic.
“Oh yeah,” Peter sighed, watching as Flash came jogging down the staircase with someone following closely behind. “That’s him, alright.”
Even with the music blaring, Peter could hear Flash all the way down on the bottom floor where they stood.
“Jenny! Jenny, come over here!” Flash shouted, continually checking behind him to make sure the other person was following. “This is Jenny Carson, one of the hottest girls in school and she’ll be — Jenny, hey, yo, where you going? Jenny! Whatever, forget Jenny. Have you met Blake? Blake! Follow me, you’ll want to meet Blake.”
Wanda shifted on her feet, head tilted to the side as she examined him. “He seems…”
“Penis!” Flash shouted loud enough for most of the crowd to hear, multiple heads turning and watching him point a finger directly at Peter. “You don’t need to know Penis, but I’ll introduce you on the way to Blake — Blake, hey, don’t move! I see you dickward, don’t move!”
“Yep,” Peter popped the p on his lips. “And awesome, he’s headed this way.”
Though he may have been the host of the party, Flash struggled to make his way through the abundance of teenagers all standing along the staircase. Most even seemed annoyed that he and the whatever person followed suit tried wiggling by them. Red solo cups jostled and knocked around as they squeezed on past.
Once Flash broke through and hopped down off the last step, he didn’t lose his pace. He and the much taller guy were moving so fast they nearly walked right by Peter and Wanda.
“Okay, so yeah, this is Penis Parker,” Flash quickly said, hand waving forward. “Let’s keep moving —”
“Oh my god,” the voice boomed over the obnoxious dance music. “Pete!?”
Peter immediately looked away from Flash, his insulted expression morphing into one of shock. It didn’t take more than a second to get a clear picture of who Flash had been dragging along.
His wide eyes and slacked jaw matched the other teenagers face, both of them copying each other with complete surprise.
“Harry?” Peter had to do a double-take to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. “Harry Osborn?”
Harry’s stunned laugh cut short when he abruptly pulled Peter into a tight hug, so suddenly that it caught everyone off guard.
Including Peter, spider-sense be damned.
“I can’t believe...wow, Pete!” Harry clapped his hand roughly against Peter’s back, still laughing, each one lighter than the last. “Oh my god, what has it been? Five years?”
Peter chuckled, pulling away with a nod. “Uh, yeah. Something like that. End of middle school, I think? So threeish years.”
Harry shook his head, grinning cheek to cheek.
“Too long, pal. Too long.” His mouth was open and ready to say more when he caught sight of the red-headed woman standing quietly next to Peter. She smiled softly at them both, keeping mostly to herself.
“I am so sorry, where are my manners?” He laid an open palm across his chest. “Hi, I’m Harry. You must be Peter’s…?”
“Friend. She’s my good friend,” Peter was quick to cut in, keeping any assumptions from being tossed around. “Wanda, this is Harry Osborn. We, uh...we go back.”
“He’s being modest. I met him in grade school.” Harry stepped forward, arm outstretched for Wanda to shake. His smile was so broad that his eyes nearly crinkled shut, while his grip on her hand was gentle and respectful. “I knew this nerd back when he was using legos in Kindergarten to learn arithmetic math.”
Wanda’s stifled laugh was barely heard over Flash’s blubbering, nearly unintelligible sounds failing to make words.
“Wait, wait, wait! Hold on. You were friends with Penis Parker?” Flash stepped between them both, and at that moment his smaller height had never been so noticeable. While Peter had never been considered tall, Harry stood a good six feet, easily overpowering Flash by five inches.
With a forced grin, Harry put a hand against Flash’s shoulder. “Come on, dude. It’s 2017. Lay off the homophobic stuff, okay?”
Taken aback, Flash immediately shook his head. “Yo, I’m not —”
“Hey, Wanda,” Harry’s attention was already elsewhere, his head tilted to the side as he studied the girl in front of him. “You’re one of those Avengers, aren’t you?”
Peter looked more shocked than Wanda, who acted like the realization was nothing more than a common occurrence to her. Which, in hindsight, likely was. Peter hadn’t taken the step to reveal his identity yet, and likely never would.
Wanda, however, lived her daily life in the open right alongside Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. It was hard not to, what with unfortunate events forcing her face the public limelight.
So her smile, warm and friendly, came like second nature.
“Something like that,” she answered, her hand going to rest against Peter’s bicep. “And any friend of Peter’s, no matter how long ago, is friend of mine.”
Her smile began to lessen the closer Flash crept near her, going so far as to have his tacky silk button-down grazing against her green jacket.
Peter watched apprehensively, eyebrows furrowed low, one eye squinting with suspicion.
“So then, Wanda...” Flash ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, just as she shot her head over towards him with the dirtiest glare any of them had ever seen.
“I do not like you.” Her words were clipped, short, and tongue heavy with her Sokovian accent.
“Most people don’t.”
Flash’s face bloomed a hot red, flushing noticeably even under the array of different party lights. The embarrassment quickly turned to annoyance when the other voice perked up.
The four turned around. Standing against the wall and eating a dull red apple was a girl their age, eyeing Flash with discontent.
“Hey, MJ!” Peter exclaimed, his voice unintentionally squeaking in pitch. He cleared his throat a few times before speaking again. “It’s uh, it’s good to see you here.”
MJ raised an eyebrow high.
“Yeah...I thought I could write a paper on the mating displays of America’s one percent.” A few chews in and she followed up with, “Ned said you’d be here, so that seemed like a good opportunity for a comparative analysis.”
The pause that fell between them was one filled with rowdy dance music and five hundred different conversations happening at once. None of which were even remotely interesting to anyone expect, say maybe Flash.
Peter was starting to wonder who had picked out the music for this party. A new song started up, and he couldn’t help but think about how awful the selection was. His playlist with Ned, MJ, and most recently Wanda had much better taste than whatever this overpaid DJ was cranking out.
Wanda suddenly jerked an elbow against Peter’s side, startling him from his thoughts.
“Uh, right!” He pointed a sharp finger next to him, so rigid it almost didn’t look real. “This is Wanda.”
Wanda smiled and gave a small wave, meeting MJ’s outstretched hand and receiving a casual shake of sorts. If she could even call it that. It felt more like some sloppy handshake made up on the spot. She was pretty sure an attempt at a fist bump was merged somewhere in the mix as well.
“Cool. Finally get to meet the tough bitch from Sokovia.” MJ pulled away, tossing her apple in the air and catching it seamlessly with one hand. “You got good taste in music.”
Flash nudged his way dangerously close to Wanda’s side. “You know, all the ladies say I have good taste in music too. Why don’t we —”
The stare Wanda proceeded to give was enough to send Flash scattering across the room, the heat that spread across his cheeks hot enough to leave a steam trail following behind him.
It left Harry visibly impressed, humming and smirking in Wanda’s direction. Peter hid his laugh behind a fake cough and for MJ — well, it was more than enough to immediately win MJ over.
“Hey, follow me.” She swung her arm around Wanda’s shoulder like she had known the older girl for years, gesturing ahead with her other hand. “Maybe we can find some real food to eat in this McMansion.”
Before Peter could even say goodbye, the two had disappeared somewhere in the crowd of teenagers, heading into the kitchen. At least he assumed it was the kitchen — he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around why a family needed so many rooms in one house.
He stood on his toes to get a better view, growing worried the longer he couldn’t get a lock on either of the girls. Peter had gotten to know Wanda well enough to be aware that she usually felt uncomfortable around people she didn’t know. Hell, sometimes she found herself anxious just being away from him at times. It had been like that ever since the whole ‘fake death’ incident over spring break.
Suddenly, a fist had bumped into his arm.
“So...” Harry started, gaining his attention. “Peter Parker’s now a party boy, huh?”
“Huh? What?” Peter stammered, eyes wide as he shook his head. “Oh god, no! No no! No, I’m just...I’m here because...”
The bass of the music drowned out Peter’s voice. Suddenly, he honestly couldn’t remember why he had decided to come to one of Flash’s tacky parties, let alone drag Wanda along — not that she didn’t seem thrilled at the opportunity. Most of their ride over was spent with her gushing in excitement over finally experiencing a real ‘teenage activity.’
All Peter remembered was not wanting to unpack his suitcase, and the leaking bathroom sink grating his nerves. How did that put him here?
It took a minute to notice Harry staring at him, waiting, his eyebrow arched high with amusement.
“I actually don’t know why I’m here,” Peter admitted, sheepishly chuckling to himself.
Harry nodded, glancing in the direction where the girls walked away, before looking back at Peter with a smirk so smug it rivaled Tony Stark himself.
“Seems like that MJ girl might be part of the reason why.”
Peter could feel his face contort into an expression he wasn’t sure had a name, muscles twisting in places that felt unnatural. Harry barked a laugh at his exaggerated disagreement.
“MJ? No! Psh, no, no, we're...we're friends. We’re cool. Friends. That’s...that’s what we are. Friends.” Peter aimed a finger at Harry’s chest. “Hey, what are you doing here? How do you even know Flash Thompson?”
“That kid?” Harry shook his head. “No clue, only met him tonight. You know how people get when they find out I’m an Osborn. Suddenly I’m their best friend.”
Peter hummed out a sound of agreement, not that Harry could hear him over the thumping bass coming from the surround sound.
Life had always been like that for Harry, going as far back as Peter could remember. Some days he even thought back to those moments when he’d be hanging out with Mr. Stark, paparazzi flashing everywhere when they’d just be trying to get a scoop of ice cream at a local shop in Queens. It was similar to when Harry’s chaperone would take them out to the park or nearby shops when they were kids. People always wanted a photo of what the Osborn kid was doing. Even when they were only 9 years old.
The moment of pause gave Peter a chance to do a good once-over on his old friend. Whatever growth spurt he had since they were 12 had done him well, almost better than the spider-bite had done for him. And even under the strobe-lights, his vivid blue eyes were bright as ever. A charismatic twinkle in his left eye that always screamed ‘son of a businessman’ to Peter.
Which reminded him — Peter furrowed his brows as the thought struck hard.
“Then what are you...” he trailed off, confused. If Harry didn’t know Flash...
Harry shrugged so nonchalantly it looked like his shoulders weren’t even connected to his body.
“I saw this party on Facebook when looking up the school. Figured, what better way to get to know my classmates before I start next week.”
If Peter thought he was confused before, he had yet to meet ultimate confusion. The type of confusion that put his towering IQ to shame.
“I don’t understand,” Peter was still shouting over the music — seriously, who picked this trash? — and Harry was leaning in close to hear him better. “Start? Where? Didn’t your dad transfer you to some elite private school upstate?”
Harry nodded enthusiastically.
“Yeah. Alexander Academy Highlands,” he paused, giving an open window for Peter to say something. When he didn’t, Harry followed through with, “Ring a bell?”
The realization hit Peter like a plane crashing down onto the sands of Coney Island. If his eyes had gone any wider, he was sure they’d pop right out of their sockets.
“That’s the school that burned down over the summer,” Peter needlessly said.
Harry had pulled out his cellphone from his back pocket, scrolling through a few messages as he nodded at Peter’s statement. “Yeah, faulty electrical wiring in the cafeteria my ass. I swear one of those teachers was looking for payback because they cut pensions. Anyway, they had to divide us out to the nearest STEM facilities. I was one of the lucky students elected to transfer to Midtown.” He pocketed the phone away almost as quickly as he brought it out, meeting Peter’s stunned face with a smile. “Like I said...what a better way to meet know my classmates before I start.”
A sudden burst of commotion from the second story balcony briefly caught their attention, an uproar of yelling and hollering reaching even over the DJ’s music. Peter and Harry both glanced above them; Peter’s stare lingering long after Harry had looked away.
It took another playful fist bump against Peter’s arm for him to tear his eyes away from the excitement.
“This means we’ll be going to the same school again, Pete!” Harry shouted over the fuss from upstairs.
Peter blinked back the shock. Five minutes ago and he had just reunited with one of his best friends from childhood. Now he had been told they’d be spending their entire junior year together. Just when he thought his life couldn’t get any crazier, there was always a curve-ball waiting around the corner.
“Wow, this is...” he couldn’t even hear himself as he shouted, “this is so cool!”
“Isn’t it!?”
The noise was becoming overwhelming, even for Harry. The music combined with the rowdy activity from upstairs echoed in the vaulted living room and bounced off the ceilings, despite there being enough occupants to stifle the sound.
“Hey, listen!” Harry wrapped his arm around Peter, pulling them both to a corner of the room. There was a little less noise to deal with in the small spot, though not by much. Once there, he held his hand firmly on Peter’s shoulder.
They stared at each other for a moment that felt longer than it actually was.
“I’m so sorry about Ben,” Harry finally said.
Blood rushed through Peter’s ears the very second Harry finished his last syllable, nearly muting the tacky dance music that had once been threatening to make him go deaf. His response got caught in the swell that grew in his throat.
It was going on two years now, and Ben’s name still stung as harshly as it did back then. Peter tried not to let his mood sour, tried not to let the smile on his face look as insincere as it felt. But he was doing as good of a job as the fumbling freshmen boy nearby that was trying not to act drunk when they were so clearly very intoxicated. Red solo cup splashing around liquor and all.
“Yeah,” Peter nodded, the party around him suddenly coming back to life, noise returning with a crystal clear boom. “It’s, uh...yeah, thanks.”
He looked everywhere but straight ahead, his eyes actively avoiding Harry’s. The grip on his shoulder squeezed tightly as Harry fought to get his attention.
“No, man, really. I feel awful,” he insisted, making sure to look Peter straight on. “I didn’t call, I didn’t text, I didn’t do anything. That was wrong of me. You were there when my mom passed away —”
“And you were there when my parents died,” Peter was quick to interrupt. “It’s okay, I get it. I’m sure you have a good excuse. And, I mean, even if you don’t...we just...we moved away from each other, and we fell apart. It happens, you know?”
Harry adamantly shook his head, his other hand going to rest on Peter’s other shoulder, both grips firm on his collarbones.
“Not again. You hear me? You and me, us meeting up like this, it’s a sign!” Harry was yelling again, despite having relocated to the corner of the room. The noise from above increased by a tenfold, a complete ruckus drowning out their conversation. “We got the entire school year ahead of us, Pete! Just imagine the possibilities!”
Peter found a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, his old friend’s enthusiasm leaking towards him. It was one of the things he had always liked most about Harry. His excitement and charisma was so contagious, so easily spread from one person to the next. It was a gift he had inherited from his parents, mostly from his late mother — though his father had a small role to play in it as well.
The memory immediately spawned the question, “Hey, how’s your dad doing?”
Harry’s face froze, his expression locked in a grin that was no longer genuine. The party lights circling from the ceiling highlighted the stress lines that began to emerge around his eyes, no longer bright with elation.
Peter was on the verge of apologizing, his ‘sorry’ sitting right on his lips. He should have known better; Harry’s father was never a good topic to bring up, not even when they were kids. But right as he went to speak —
“Dude, don’t fucking touch me!”
“Lay off, Zack!”
The rambunctious fighting from the balcony caught their attention again, as well as everyone else standing on the bottom level of the living room. Nearly every head looked up at the same time. Color changing party lights lit up the scene on the upper loft, showcasing two guys Peter knew to be on the football team — Zack and Kyle — with a petite looking girl standing between them.
Zack shoved a hand roughly against the more buff teenager. “I’ll goddamn do what I please —!”
“Man, you’re drunk!” Kyle pushed right back.
The girl caught in the middle of it all stepped forward, both hands high in the air. “Listen to him, Zack, please —”
“Shut up, Shantal, you’re a fucking whore!”
“Hey!” Kyle twisted on Zack’s arm, roughly. “Do not talk to her like that, asshole!”
Their shouting, which had been present for a good eight minutes as it was, began to reach uncomfortably violent standards.
Peter looked all around the room, becoming the only one in the crowd to not be engrossed with the approaching fight from above. His eyes were already scanning for an exit, or a bathroom, or any space he could change into his spider-suit that…
That he didn’t have with him. Because May insisted he 'have a normal night.'
Crap.
Just then did Peter’s eyes find Wanda’s, the girl standing at the kitchen entrance next to MJ. She looked tense, as worried as he was.
They stared at each other apprehensively, both MJ and Harry utterly unaware that the two weren’t paying attention to the scene happening from above.
Peter furrowed his brows, upper teeth biting on his lower lip. His eyes told her, ‘I need to stop them before someone gets hurt.’
Wanda shook her head, a smidgen of a move speaking volumes. ‘Don’t. You’ll expose yourself.’
“Oh my god!” Shantal shrieked. Both Peter and Wanda snapped their heads up to the loft balcony at the frightening scream. “Oh my god, stop! STOP!”
“Whoa, whoa!” Kyle shouted as Zack grabbed a fistful of his shirt, lifting him off from the ground and leaning him over the balcony railings. “Dude, fuck! Fuck, dude, stop!”
Shantal had both hands cupped over her mouth, screaming downstairs, “Someone help!”
“I’m on it! I’m on it!”
It wasn’t Peter, or Wanda, or even one of the fellow football team members that came running up the stairs. It was none other than Flash, who pushed through the crowd as he forced himself up the long staircase leading to the second story.
“Hey, dickward! Why don’t you screw off — shit!”
Peter watched in what seemed to be slow motion as Flash tripped on the final step leading to the balcony. And although he couldn’t see what exactly happened next, it wasn’t hard to put the missing pieces together.
Zack, having been roughly knocked to the side from Flash’s fall, immediately lost his footing — and his grip on Kyle.
Peter’s thoughts and instincts were muddled as screaming came from all around. He watched with wide, terror-filled eyes as Kyle came fumbling over the balcony railings and nearly plummeted down the twenty feet from above. His fall stopped short the moment Zack managed to latch onto his one ankle.
“Kyle — fuck!” His scream barely cut over everyone else’s, Kyle’s included. “Dude, I got you, I got —!”
Peter didn’t have time to worry about exposing his identity. He didn’t have time to even consider caring about exposing his identity. His feet moved beyond his control; his hand stuck deep into his back pocket as his body ducked and twisted around multiple people without him even thinking twice.
‘Find a hiding spot, find a hiding spot!’
There was a wall in the hallway clear of any crowds, where Peter instantly crouched low to his knees, back resting firmly against the drywall behind him. He fumbled with the square device in his palm, as small as the dice to a board game, until he squeezed it tightly between both closed hands. Within seconds his web-shooters sprung to life, attaching around his wrists with a life of their own.
‘Thank GOD Mr. Stark let me make my new web-shooters with his nanotech!’
“Someone help!” Shantal continued to yell, half crying and half hysteric. “Oh my god, someone, someone help them!”
“Hang on!” Flash jumped forward, latching onto both Zack’s calf's. The weight of the two combined teenagers pulled him right over balcony railings. “Hang on, hang on, oh shit, shitshitSHIT!”
Peter craned his head from over the wall that separated him from the living room. He could feel his eyes grow wider, beyond what he thought was possible. It was like a bad video buffering on YouTube. Each frame brought something new, and just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse —
“Oh my god!”
“ShitshitFUCK!”
“Someone help them —”
“OH GOD!”
“HELP!”
By the time Peter turned his head, Kyle and Zack were already plummeting the twenty feet down to the living room below. Flash, having fallen with them, held onto the balcony railings with one hand, dangling in panic.
A bright red glow tore through the party lights.
The entire room gasped, so sharp and so loudly that it felt as if all the oxygen in the room had been depleted.
And then it went quiet.
That was, aside for the hum of magic that began to whir around them. The sound was mystical, beyond what any of the kids had heard or seen before.
Everyone except Peter, who was the first to catch sight of Wanda across the way, She still stood at the kitchen entrance, the only difference now being the two arms she held out. Her fingers spread far apart and knuckles bent at odd angels as red energy came pouring from her hands.
The same red energy that held Kyle and Zack suspended in the air.
“Oh my god...” More than one person whispered. “Is she…?”
“Is that…?”
“Is anyone recording this?”
“Holy crap...”
“Dude, tell me someone’s recording this!”
One by one, the room burst into activity, hushed murmurs eventually overpowering the sound of magic that hung in the air.
Carefully, slowly, Wanda lowered both boys down the remaining distance to the ground below.
Flash’s holler tore through the temporary calm. “Help! Lady, yo, help! I’m slipping! I’m slipping – shit, help!”
Peter shot his head back up where Flash dangled from one hand on the balcony railings. Even from a distance Peter could see the grip weakening, his panicked sweat slowly stealing his grasp away.
And then he let go with a scream.
It took all of a second for Peter to make a decision. In that second, he spared a glance with Wanda, who looked as panicked as he did. She couldn’t lose her hold on either of the two boys to save the third.
So Peter did what he had to do.
Crouched low and hand to the floor, he shot a strand of webbing out the clearest path he could manage. It landed directly where he wanted it to – the sofa.
With one hard yank, he pulled it forward. The legs screeched against the tile flooring below as he rushed to get the furniture directly under Flash, using both hands to tug at his web-string.
It was close. Closer than Peter was ever comfortable with. Flash landed back first onto the couch; his one leg closed under him in a way that accompanied the loud CRACK of the furniture breaking beneath his fall.
“FUCK!”
Wanda safely lowered both boys to the floor below, only Kyle landing on his feet while Zack drunkenly fell to his knees.
Where he promptly puked.
The crowd dispersed with disgusted sounds.
Hidden by the wall in the hallway, Peter grimanced as Flash cried out, cursing up a storm he’d never repeat even on a dare. He was pretty sure some of those words were made up. Though a broken bone was better than cracking his head open, Peter knew all too well a broken bone still sucked.
Hell, he even felt sympathy pain crawl up his own leg.
Kyle, the first to gain his composure upon landing, looked down at Flash with pure disgust.
“Holy...dude, that’s...”
Shantal screamed from above. “Someone call 911!”
Flash, in horror, stared at his mangled leg. The limb bent at an angel it absolutely wasn’t supposed to bend. He nearly puked himself, and he wasn’t sure if that was because of Zack’s own vomit stinking up the room or the frightening sight below him.
Kyle gulped back his sickness. “That looks bad.”
“They’re on their way,” someone screamed nearby, “they’re on their way!”
Reality hit hard when Flash realized what he'd heard.
“What!?” He tried sitting up on the couch, quickly falling back down with an agonizing yelp. “No! No, call them back! Tell them not to come! Don’t bring the cops here! Fuck, dude, there’s alcohol here, they can’t come!”
Kyle shook his head. “Dude, your leg —”
“I don’t care about my leg!” Flash screeched, his voice cracking in pitch. “My dad is going to kill me if he finds out I had alcohol here!”
Peter weaved through the masses without so much as an apology, desperately attempting to reach the kitchen entrance where Wanda was. He had reached for her hand long before getting close to her, tugging on it with desperation.
“Come on!” He hissed, nodding his head to the side. “Come on, we gotta go!”
She spared one last glance at the teenagers in the middle of the room — Zack still on his knees dry-heaving, Kyle hovering over Flash who was having an absolute screaming fit about the cops showing up. They wouldn’t be the first ones to leave; a handful of kids were already rushing out, red solo cups discarded on the floor and creating a mess to walk on.
Peter's shoes were gunna be so sticky after this.
“Dude, you can’t let the cops come here! You can’t — oh god, I’m dead. I’m so fucking dead!” Flash pulled tightly at his hair, nearly yanking his gel-covered-locks right out of his scalp.
“No dude, you would have been dead if it weren’t for...” Kyle paused, looking around the huddled group of teenagers in confusion. He even stood on his toes to better see over the crowd. “Hey, where’d she go?”
The DJ had long since stopped playing, and the noise of approaching sirens began to get closer. Both Peter and Wanda were long gone from the party before they could ever encounter the sound.
“Anyone see her?”
“I don’t see her, anyone see her?”
“Holy shit, did she teleport out!?”
“Whoa….witches do that, right? They like, poof away and stuff?”
“No dipshit, they fly on a broom.”
“Dude...is anyone recording this!?”
“New York’s Avenger's Scarlet Witch caught fleeing the scene of high-school party gone wrong after reportedly using her powers on intoxicated underage boys. NYPD has THIS to say about what they walked in on.” Tony hummed, looking up from his phone and over to Steve. “Kinda click-baitey, don’t you think?”
Steve didn’t look amused. He didn’t spare a glance at Tony either; standing tall, arms crossed over his chest in a way that made him seem twice as big. And that was saying something, seeing as he already put the average male physique to shame.
His sight never wavered from the sofa in front of him, eyes locked straight ahead.
“What do you two have to say for yourselves?”
Sitting side-by-side on the love sofa was Wanda and Peter, both seeming equally annoyed and beyond frustrated. While Wanda had become occupied examining at her nails, Peter found himself staring at the floor where his sneakers scuffed across the marble flooring.
They both did everything to avoid the glaring daggers from both men towering over them.
“It does sound a little click-baitey,” Peter mumbled, kicking along the toe of his shoe. It left tacky, residue marks on the floor. “Also didn’t expect it to go that viral that quickly...or for you to find out before we even got back here.”
It was true. Neither Peter nor Wanda expected to get a text message on their way back from the city, in the car when they were instructed to meet up in the common room ‘at once’ — Steve talking, of course. Tony’s messages were a bit more...colorful.
“You didn’t —?” Tony shook his head free of his stutter, shock rendering him momentarily discomposed. “Who do you think has alerts set up for whenever an Avenger, of any name, of any variation of said name gets mentioned in social media? Who do you think gets first word on these type of scandals?”
Peter shrugged. “TMZ?”
Steve’s face grew more serious, if that were even possible. If he weren’t the epitome of perfect health, Peter would have been worried that he’d have a stroke then and there.
Tony’s head shot up with disbelief, eyes so wide they would have rolled straight out of his head if they weren’t attached.
“He’s got jokes,” Tony scoffed, looking back over to Steve. “Would you look at that, the kid’s got jokes.”
“Peter, this is serious.” Steve wasn’t laughing. His lips pursed tightly together while his blue eyes held that infamous Captain Rogers disappointment that drove them up all the wall.
And in Peter’s defense, Tony hated it just as much. It just so happened he and Cap were on the same side with this one.
‘Totally unfair.’ Peter bit his tongue with a shake of his head, knowing better than to mouth off.
“It is not serious!” Wanda threw her hand on down on the armrest, the smack of skin against leather catching them off guard.
Peter’s eyes blew wide, looking at her with barely contained shock. Apparently she did not know better than to mouth off. That, or she just didn’t care.
“You are making a big deal over nothing,” she insisted, her tone giving off the impression of not caring.
Steve quirked an eyebrow high. “You’re not one to talk right now, Wanda. It’s your name that’s being scandalized on the news.”
“And so what?” Wanda let her pointer finger chip away at the cracked and broken nail polish on her thumb. She found the bits of purple that fell into her lap to be more interesting than either adult. “They spread lies and bad things to harm reputation of others. I do not care what they say about me.”
Steve stood defiantly with his hands against his hips, and next to him Tony went to cross his arms over his chest. They changed stance simultaneously, not even noticing they were unintentionally copying each other.
“That’s great. Really, don’t lose that confidence.” Tony adjusted his hands to rest on his hips while Steve folded his over his chest.
It took less than split second, a half side-glance at best for Tony to notice. And he immediately gave the solider an offending look at the realization.
“Unfortunately,” Tony returned to the conversation, ignoring the way that Peter and Wanda looked at them both, “when you’re spoken about, you represent the entire Avengers. All of us. And you know what doesn’t make us look good?” Tony quickly looked back down at his phone, reading off, “Boil boil toil and trouble: Witch Avenger in a struggle. Caught leaving high-school party busted for underage drinking.”
Peter tossed his hands up in the air with exasperation. “Come on, I didn’t even know Flash was going to have alcohol there!”
Tony stopped scrolling on his phone, trying his best to ignore the abundance of articles and social media feed that continued to pop up. Notification after notification bogged down his device, and it was only going to get worse as the night continued. They had learned these lessons long ago — that was, of course, the older members of the team had learned them.
Sometimes Tony forgot there was a whole new generation looking up to them for guidance. And oh boy, what a mistake that was.
“Look,” he started, “I don’t even care that there was alcohol there —”
“I care!” Steve snapped, his head shooting over to Tony with record breaking speed. “That’s underage drinking, Tony. Peter’s only fifteen —”
“I'm sixteen,” Peter cut in, immediately shrinking underneath the furious glares that felt so hot he might as well melted into the leather cushions. “And that’s the legal drinking age in Germany, you know.” He slumped far down into the couch, chin resting against his chest as he muttered under his breath, “Found that out not long after I stole your shield.”
Steve held an open palm in the air, his eyes closed as he forced in a deep breath.
“Son...just don’t.”
Wanda roughly and quickly adjusted where she sat on the sofa, her wrist bracelets jingling loudly at the motion. “I do not understand what the problem is. We were not there when the police came. We did not drink, we did not go to jail. What is the problem?”
Tony swiped up on his cell phone, pinching his fingers together and then expanding them widely. The motion brought a holographic video out in the open space between them, a video from the Daily Bugle website playing in front of them all.
“That,” he simply stated. “That is our problem.”
The footage played in a loop; it wasn’t long, shaky and even a tad bit grainy for what cell phones were capable of recording these days. It showcased Wanda, both hands outstretched with red magic flowing from her fingertips, all directed at the teenagers that floated mid-air above the party goers. The gasps and murmurs somehow seemed more demeaning now than when they were actually there.
With irritation, Wanda tore her eyes from the video. “What was I supposed to do? Let those boys die?”
“No! No, we don’t...” Steve went on to sigh, squeezing the bridge of his nose tightly between two fingers. “I’m not reprimanding you for saving their lives. But we work under SHIELD’s jurisdictional now. You know that. And you know that you can’t just use your abilities in public like that. We have to be careful with what we do, and when we do it.”
Wanda crossed her arms over her chest, looking to the side as she threw back, “They only let us work when they see fit.”
Her words managed to melt Steve’s expression, harden frustration turning into something else entirely. He couldn’t help but remember when she had said the same thing months prior, back when the heat of a moment had them all making rash decisions. He should have known that she wouldn’t be able to distinguish ordinary rules from their importune judgment calls. It wasn’t fair to expect her too, either.
Not when they had a habit of breaking the rules so often.
“Wanda, I understand we went against SHIELD orders to save Peter a few months back,” Steve started, much softer and more sympathetic in his tone. “But we can’t make that a common occurrence. When we turned the Accords over to to SHIELD, we agreed that they’d oversee our undertaking as a team. That was the only reason one-hundred-seventeen nations complied with the repeal. If they see that we’re galloping around using enhanced abilities at high-school parties, they’re going to think we’re irresponsible. And they’re going to want the Accords back in motion.”
Wanda still hadn’t looked his way, her neck craned to the side and eyes staring somewhere far off at the wall. She shook her head, the simple movement somehow containing a mountain full of resentment.
“What you are saying is I was supposed to let those young boys die?”
“You shouldn’t have been there to begin with!” Tony practically screamed, hands clenching thin air with fists so tight his knuckles had already turned white. “You’re twenty-two! You don’t belong at high-school parties! And you!”
Tony turned to Peter, his finger pointing so sharp it might as well have been a plank of wood.
Peter gaped, pointing at himself. “What about me!?”
“You know what about you!”
“Tony —” Steve warned.
“You always tell me to get out more, and now that I do you have a problem with it!?” Peter shouted, raising his voice to match Tony’s.
“When I said get out more, I meant get a girlfriend — not go to some sleazy high-school party with booze!” There was no going back on his anger, Tony's buttons having been pushed in a way that shoved him right over the edge. “And besides, when have you ever wanted to go to one of those things?”
Peter shrugged dramatically. “I don’t know! Since tonight? What’s the big deal!?”
“You know what happens when teenagers are caught drinking?” Tony didn’t give him even a millisecond to consider responding. “They get fined, they lose their driving privileges. You just got your license, for Christ’s sake! And with all that time you had me spend trying to teach you how to parallel park —”
“I didn’t know there was alcohol there, really!” Peter’s voice cracked as he shouted.
Tony cocked his head to the side, pessimistically unconvinced. “Cut the crap, Parker. You’ve told me time after time what kind of parties this Thompson kid has. You damn well knew —”
“That doesn’t mean I was going to drink!”
“That’s how it starts, Peter!”
“Yeah, you would know!”
“Okay, okay —” Steve finally interrupted them, one hand against his forehead and the other out in the air. “Hey, you two need to calm down.”
The much needed pause between them was thick and heavy, making the air hard to breathe — even giving goosebumps against Peter’s skin. Or perhaps that was Wanda next to him, radiating off an energy that felt extremely supernatural and off.
She had a tendency to do that.
Peter crossed his arms over his chest — okay, he pouted. Flat out tired and aggravated at what was a minor incident being blown out of proportion.
Tony had turned away, and with how his back heaved and puffed, they could only assume he was stress breathing to regain composure.
Only a few moments later did he turn back around, finger lazily wagging in Peter’s general direction.
“You brought your bags, right?” Tony asked.
The implication was there before he had even finished the sentence. Peter gaped, arms falling to his side as his back went ramrod straight on the couch.
“You’re sending me home?” Peter’s breath hitched for a moment. He could feel same type of panicked boil in his gut that he’d get when May would take away his computer or phone. “That’s not fair, it’s my weekend here! I’m supposed to train with the team, you can’t—”
“Oh no, you’re not going home,” Tony halted Peter’s relief with, “And you’re also not training.”
A beat.
“What?”
“You’re grounded,” Tony responded flatly.
Peter’s jaw practically fell to the floor. “I’m what?”
“You heard me. You’re grounded,” he said matter-of-factly, this time with more kick to his tongue — as if every time he repeated the words it rejuvenated his soul.
Peter shot forward on the couch, eyes darting hopelessly between Tony and Steve.
“What? How? You can’t!—!” He groaned, so loud it could have broken his vocal cords. “That’s not fair, I’m supposed to start training!”
“And now you’re grounded. Consider yourself lucky that you’re grounded here with a hundred acres and a movie theater, and not Queens with a lumpy twin bed and poorly received cable.” Tony wagged his finger in Peter’s general direction. “I want your suit in the next hour. You’re not training, you’re not going into the city — you are grounded.”
Peter huffed. "Okay, now I think you just like saying that word."
Tony could have laughed. In fact, he chuckled. “Oh, you bet your ass I do. Grounded, grounded, grounded. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Mr. Stark, this is —”
“You too, Wanda,” Steve said, more solemnly than the vigor excitement Tony had.
Wanda’s eyes went wide. “How? I am at Clint’s farm this weekend.”
The way Steve shook his head looked as if his skull weighed a thousand pounds, such dismay in his body movements that truly brought to life the saying ‘this hurts you way more than it hurts me.’
“Not anymore,” Steve calmly explained, no heat to his tone, only disappointment. “I already called him, and we both agreed that you need to stay here after all that’s happened.”
“You brought Clint into this? And he agrees with you?” Wanda stared at him, flabbergasted. “We’re being punished for savings lives?”
Tony rolled his eyes. “You’re being punished because — can we really call it that? Seriously, this place has a lap pool —”
“You’re being punished because you need to understand we're all on thin ice after the repeal of the Accords, and the situations you put yourself in represent us all. Which can easily undo all the work Tony and I spent getting this team back,” Steve diligently answered. “You shouldn’t have been at that party, Wanda. It wasn’t age appropriate, and you didn’t think of the consequences that would occur if something like this had happened. You have to make better decisions with your spare time.”
Wanda was staring at them both in disbelief, a handful of seconds passing by as she struggled to formulate a response. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
Finally, she resorted to rising from the couch in a huff of anger.
“The one and only time I go to party and this happens, and I get punished for it!” Wanda pushed through both Steve and Tony to storm away, hand rising in the air and bracelets jingling with erratic movement. “Unbelievable!”
They turned to watch her leave.
“TMZ isn’t talking about me,” Peter immediately spoke up, still on the sofa, and a single finger in the air following his words. “Not even the Bugle is talking about me. Why am I being grounded?”
Tony spun around, eyes practically bugling out of his head.
“You were at a party with booze!” He shouted. “And no adult supervision! And three kids got hurt from it!”
Peter’s glare deepened, reddening with heat. “Wanda’s right. This is unbelievable. It would have been so much worse if we hadn’t been there! Kyle and Zach? Wanda saved them, and Flash would have been a pancake if it hadn't been for me! We saved lives!”
Tony could feel his blood pressure rising, his throat constricting with irrational anger in the moment. He shook his head tensely.
“Yeah? And you’re finding out the hard way that saving lives doesn’t always make things okay.”
Peter scoffed, loudly, and he shook his head right along with it. His hands pressed against the cushions of the sofa as he practically bounced himself up, keeping his eyes dead locked on Tony as he stormed away.
“You’re being a hypocrite, Mr. Stark.”
The words echoed in the lounge, or so it seemed for Tony. Normally composed despite anything thrown his way, Tony was surprised to feel his jaw slack to the floor, spinning on his heels to follow Peter wherever the hell the kid was running off to.
“Whoa! Okay, hold your horses and clean the stable because —”
“Tony…”
To Tony’s surprise, his eagerly fast moving feet stopped in their tracks, caught at the softly spoken sound of his name. With pained frustrated, he turned around, Steve’s blue eyes reflecting an insanely unrealistic amount of disappointment back at him.
God, did he hate that look.
“Don’t,” Steve softly cut through his frustration, giving the smallest shake of his head. “Give him some time. Try talking to him later.”
Tony groaned, rolling his neck from side to side, wishing away the cricks and sores that came with the added stress of a teenager.
Hell, he might as well say teenagers at this point. Wanda had practically come bouncing out of her shell of shyness once Peter came onboard the team. Her urge to fulfill her lost youth coincided far too well with his young age.
He couldn’t be mad — not at that, anyway. Even Vision had made mention that she seemed happier lately, more bounce in her step since becoming close friends with Peter. He just wished the girl would come to understand that rules existed for a reason, that they couldn’t just do what they wanted at all times.
And Peter?
Well, that was a whole other headache he didn’t feel like touching right now.
Tony collapsed onto the sofa with a crack of his knees and a grunt from his throat.
“Please tell me you have an inkling of an idea of what we’re going to say to the big dogs about this one.”
It was an unfortunate drawback, having returned to SHIELD’s authoritative control. While it kept them together as a team — a functioning team, one able to take on missions first hand instead of dealing with the bureaucracy of the government — it also meant being held to higher standards by authoritative figures who knew them all too well.
Director Hill barely bought into the crap they fed her, and Fury still played a role hidden behind the curtains. Always there to tell her first hand that they were selling her horseshit.
Tony bowed his head and rubbed harshly at the nape of his neck while Steve stared off at a wall, hands against his hips with a deep sigh that escaped his chest.
“I haven’t concocted anything yet, no.” Steve shook his head. “Can’t say I ever prepared to deal with this type of mess.”
Tony looked up, mildly amused. “Irresponsible teenagers? Pissy young adults? Enhanced magical abilities? Or high-school parties with booze?”
There was a beat before Steve responded. “All of it.”
Tony hummed and returned to his self-massage on the back of his neck. For a split moment, he marinated in their lull of conversation, the shrill ring of silence that hit his eardrums bringing a calm to the throbbing ache in the back of his skull. It seemed moments like this were far and few between these days, moments of quiet that allowed him to actually hear his own thoughts.
It was funny. Tony used to like staying busy — always keeping his hands moving, always working on a project. Always finding things to fix.
Lately though, all he wanted to do was take a moment to relax. To live in the present. He still hadn’t figured out if that helped in times like these, or made it worse.
“By any chance was Peter like this during your cross country road trip?” Steve’s question tore through his train of thoughts, delicate yet tense in tone. “You know...grumpy?”
Tony huffed. “You call that grumpy?”
Steve shrugged. “I call it something.”
The man-with-a-plan was right. Peter was being...something. More on edge than the normal moody teenage self he had become acquainted with over the summer.
Their trip had allowed time to learn the quirks that came with his behavior, things like how cranky he got when being woken up before eight am, or how whiny he became if the AC was set any lower than seventy-nine — that one nearly killed Tony, spider-thermoregulation be damned.
This, though? This hit him blindsided. Repercussions weren’t a new thing for them, they had already explored this territory before. The Ferry incident, the Chameleon mask, breaking curfews more than once, nearly flunking World History — May typically took care of the school related issues but it still bothered Tony enough to get involved.
Peter was smart. Smart enough to know that sleazy high school parties would have booze, and even being present was enough to get him into more trouble than he deserved.
“No...” Tony trailed off with a sigh. “No, honestly, he was right as rain.”
There hadn’t been any issues on their trip, with the entire month they spent on the road. He thought there would be along the way, possibly towards the end, possibly getting so sick of each other they’d want nothing more to do with the other.
It never happened. Peter was grinning ear-to-ear, from the moment they left New York to the moment they returned.
It left Tony worrying what that meant for them now. It had only been a few months since...well, it happened. Fresh enough on the calenders that even Tony wasn't overly fond of staying at the Malibu beaches any longer than necessary, with memories of the ocean still stirring him awake most nights.
It was Wilson who had warned him things might take a while to really hit Peter, for the whole fiasco-under-the-sea incident to really take effect.
Tony couldn’t help but wonder if that meant their storm was right over the horizon.