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The entire floor of Avenger’s Tower pulsed with light and pounded with music. People were stuffed in every room, drinking and dancing and laughing. Of course, nobody expected anything less than an absolute rager for Tony Stark’s daughter’s 21st birthday. The second you’d found out the team’s mission was running long, you’d called MJ and started party planning. Your dad would never have let you get away with something like this while he was home, so you were seizing a golden opportunity. Together you and MJ had poured over every detail making sure everything was perfect, from décor to food to the guest list. Being the last of your friends to turn 21 was nothing short of torture, so you were determined to do everything possible to make this party legendary.
And that is how you found yourself standing next to MJ, staring out over a sea of people, feeling like somehow, something was off. You both had drinks in hand and had long since lost count of what round this was. The alcohol was definitely making itself known in your system, and you felt good; not smashed, but definitely on the far side of tipsy. To everyone else, the party was perfect, but you couldn’t shake the nagging thought that something was missing. MJ turned to see your concerned expression and smirked.
“Look, Simba. Everything the light touches is your kingdom,” she joked and gently bumped you with her shoulder. You laughed softly and turned to her.
“Do you feel like something’s missing?” you shouted over the music. MJ arched an eyebrow.
“As your official party planning partner, I’m offended you think I missed something.” You rolled your eyes and looked back over the crowd. People seemed to be enjoying themselves. Drinks were flowing, people were dancing, a couple was making out on the balcony; everything seemed flawless. But you knew something was off. You spotted Ned off in the corner, standing awkwardly next to Betty as she talked with Flash and Brad. He looked up and met your eyes, offering you a meek wave, and that’s when it hit you.
“Where’s Peter?” you asked abruptly. MJ quickly scanned the room and frowned.
“Oh…yeah, where is he?” She pulled out her phone to check the time. “Maybe he’s out, you know…” She held out her hand and pressed two fingers to her palm, imitating Peter’s web-shooters. Normally, you’d excuse Peter missing out on things when Spider-Man duties called. Growing up as Iron Man’s daughter had forced you to become accustomed to the superhero lifestyle. Tonight, however, you’d had just enough to drink that you allowed yourself to be annoyed at him picking crime-fighting over you.
“He’s out patrolling instead of coming to my party?” you huffed, hands on your hips. “Oh, hell no. I’m gonna go call him.” You downed the rest of your drink, handed MJ your empty cup, and stalked down the hall to your room.
Once you’d closed the door against the booming music, you pulled out your phone. It took you a few attempts to unlock it, proving you might have been a bit tipsier than you thought, but eventually you got it open and found Peter’s contact. It only took two rings for him to answer.
“Hey, Sunflower,” he chirped. “How’s my favorite birthday girl?” You rolled your eyes at the nickname in an attempt to maintain your drunken annoyance.
“Peterrrrrrrrrrr,” you whined. “Why aren’t you here?”
“Why aren’t I where?” he asked. You could almost see his confused face, and somehow it made even you more annoyed.
“At my party!” you yelled.
“What are you talking about, Sunflower?”
“Shut up and just get here!” With that, you hung up and flopped down onto your bed. You must have fallen asleep, because it seemed like only a second later that someone was knocking on your window. Seeing as you were about fifty stories up, there was really only one person it could be.
“Peter!” you squealed. Racing to the window, you let him inside and pulled him into a hug.
“Hey there, Sunflower,” he murmured, taking off his mask. “Happy birthday.” He untangled himself from your arms and stepped back, producing a bouquet of sunflowers. The second you saw them, you burst into tears.
Years ago, when you and Peter were still kids, you’d casually mentioned that sunflowers were your favorite. Every single birthday since then, Peter had given you a bouquet just like the one he was holding now. When you’d reached peak awkward teenage years, he’d accidentally called you sunflower once, and after fits of blushing from you both, the nickname stuck.
Now, hearing him say it with his bouquet, being more than slightly tipsy, you found yourself overcome with emotion.
“H-hey, what’s wrong?” Peter set the flowers down on the desk and took your hands in his. “Why are you crying?”
“Y-you r-r-remembered,” you blubbered, wiping tears from your face. Peter furrowed his brow.
“The sunflowers?” he asked. “Of course I did. You’re Sunflower in my phone. How could I not remember?”
‘But you forgot about my party!” you yelled. “You went on patrol instead!”
“You didn’t even tell me you were having a party!” Peter defended. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.
“You’re the one who told me to have a party in the first place!”
“I asked if you were having a party, I didn’t tell you to have a party!” Peter’s face was getting red and he was yelling. He’d never raised his voice at you before, and now he was angry and yelling at you. That was all it took for your alcohol addled brain to fall over the edge.
“Why are you yelling at me? It’s my birthday, you have to be nice to me!” you sobbed, flopping face-first back onto your bed. Sobs escaped you, but were muffled by your comforter. Peter sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing your back softly.
“Sunflower, please don’t cry,” he begged. “I’m sorry I yelled. I just really didn’t know you were having a party.” Now, it was your turn to be mad. You rolled yourself over and sat up, mascara running down your face and anger flaring in your chest.
“I invited you!” you cried, grabbing your phone. “You’re my best friend and you just forgot. Look!” You scrolled through the invite list until you got to the P’s and shoved the screen in Peter’s face. He took the phone and read it, before looking back at you.
“I’m not on here,” he said simply.
“Yes, you are,” you growled, snatching the phone back. It took your drunken eyes a moment to focus on the bright screen, but once they did you read over the list. Then you read it again. And again. Peter’s name wasn’t there. Your face and heart fell at the same time, and you looked back at him.
“I…I forgot to invite you,” you muttered. Peter chuckled and put a hand on your knee.
“You did,” he said. “But it’s okay. I’m here now so-“ you cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck and sobbing once more.
“I forgot to invite my best friend to my birthday party,” you wailed. “Peter, I’m so sorry! Please don’t hate me!” Peter sighed softly and wrapped his arms around you.
“I could never hate you, Sunflower,” he reassured you. “Let’s get you some water and something to eat, ok?” For some reason, the softness in Peter’s voice snapped you back into anger. You pulled back and glared at him.
“I don’t need a babysitter, Parker,” you grumbled. You went to stand and immediately stumbled right back into Peter’s arms. He sighed again and stood up, his hands on your shoulders to steady you.
“You’re drunk,” he said. “Let me help you so you don’t hurt yourself.” His tone was clearly annoyed, and it only served to make you angrier. You were an adult, and he was talking to you like you were a baby.
“What do you care? It’s not like you’re my boyfriend!” You tried in vain to shake him off of you, but his enhanced strength kept you firmly in place.
“Well, maybe I want to be!” Peter snapped.
The air between the two of you changed in an instant. Where a moment before there was tension, now there was electricity. You found yourself feeling more sober than you had all night as you looked up at Peter. His hands were still on your shoulders and his face and neck were bright red. You had a pit in your stomach that felt like it was growing by the second, and you dreaded the answer to the question you had to ask.
“What did you just say?” you whispered. Peter swallowed and went into something you and MJ had long since dubbed the “full Parker.” He started to ramble and stammer, trying to explain away and backpedal over what he’d just said. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his eyes darted everywhere but yours, and suddenly, something became so clear and obvious that you were amazed you hadn’t realized it ages ago.
Peter loved you. He really loved you. And you loved him.
Without a word, you took his face in your hands and pressed your lips firmly to his. He gasped against you and froze for a moment, before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. You let yourself melt into his arms while keeping your lips glued to his. You’d imagined a few times what kissing Peter might be like, but this exceeded every expectation you had. He was soft and warm, and everything you wanted him to be. He kissed you slowly, like you were the only two people in the world and time didn’t matter, but with a hunger that proved you weren’t the only one who’d imagined this moment.
You had no intention of doing anything besides kiss Peter for the rest of forever, but after a few moments his strong hands gently forced you to disconnect.
“Sunflower,” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. “As much as I never want this to end, we need to get you some food and water. We can come back to this when you’re sober, okay?” You smiled and nodded. Peter pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and went to change out of his spidey suit. You sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. The room was spinning slightly, but it no longer had anything to do with the alcohol. The tingle of Peter’s kiss was still on your lips, and you pressed your fingertips to them slightly, to make sure it was real.
“Ready?” You looked up and Peter was standing in front of you in jeans and a white t-shirt, hand held out for you. Grinning, you took it and pulled him to you, pecking him on the lips.
“Come on,” he laughed. “Let’s get you fed.” He led you toward the kitchen, and you realized as you followed him that everything felt different. The party was still raging, people were still drinking, but you no longer felt like something was missing.