There’s a dresser in the corner, and a closet which is open but pretty barren, too. A huge bed with a giant, fluffy comforter. He’s naked in some stranger’s bed and holy shit, who did he have sex with last night? Since when does he go out and have a one-night stand? Possibly more importantly, where is the person he had sex with? He sits up, taking in the room in some sort of freaked out haze, but what catches his attention first and foremost is the fact that he’s naked. Peter peels his eyes open, his headache forgotten in favor of this far more pressing matter. He’s starfished on the mattress and that absolutely shouldn’t be possible because Peter is broke and his luxuries in life include a shitty twin-sized mattress, which he abhors (but at least it gives him more room in his already tiny apartment). Peter spread out his other arm, alarmed when that, too, keeps moving across the bed. And reaching, and reaching, and- what the fuck. Peter still doesn’t groan out loud, but he groans mentally as he reaches toward the side of his bed for his phone, which he always keeps on the bedside table. It must be because he’s so hungover that his bed actually feels comfy for once. He must’ve taken himself straight to bed. God, he can’t even remember what he did after he finished off that bottle. Head-pounding, hangover drunk, apparently. Drinking an entire bottle by yourself would probably send someone else to a hospital, but Peter just got well and truly drunk. It was a shitty day and he wanted to feel something and that’s why he wasted his money on a bottle of tequila. Regardless, Peter had ended up returning home alone, having nothing to show for having turned twenty-five. Or maybe he accidentally kicked the bucket somewhere. Wade must’ve forgotten about their plans, though. First on one of the rooftops they often frequent, and afterward by swinging around the neighboring area, on the lookout for crime and Deadpool at the same time. Peter had waited around for Wade for hours. The only thing he’d wanted to make his shitty day less shitty was to be able to spend it celebrating with Wade, even if Wade didn’t know that they were celebrating. They could make up their usual birthday dinner some other day, no problem. But no one had remembered, and Peter had felt embarrassed and forgotten.Īunt May had asked him nearly a week ago if she should try to find someone to cover her shift, because her boss had scheduled her despite her trying to take the day off, and Peter had told her not to worry about it. No one at work remembered it was his birthday, meanwhile Peter’s sat through several office birthdays in all his time at The Bugle and he’s used to seeing people show up with cupcakes and balloons and treating the special birthday person to lunch. Especially as his day continued to get worse and worse.Ĭlasses had kicked his ass. Granted, they hung out on patrol pretty often, and Wade didn’t even know why Peter had asked if he could hang out last night in particular, and Wade can be pretty bad with following through with actual plans… but Peter had been looking forward to it. Plus, Wade had agreed to hang out with him on patrol. He woke up in a good mood, because it was his birthday and yeah he was broke, lonely, and celebrating on his own, but he hadn’t let that kill the mood for him. Peter needs far more than the normal amount to even feel anything, much less get drunk, so he usually doesn’t bother. Mostly, getting drunk just takes too much work. A handful of Aspirin can do the same job that a single Aspirin would do for a normal person. It’s the same way that medicine technically works on him. What was he even thinking last night?Ĭontrary to popular belief, Peter can get drunk. Peter would groan, but the thought of making any sound at all makes his head pound harshly in complaint, so he just lets out a disgruntled sigh through his nose.
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