Hello my loves! I published this fanfic on ao3 a few days go so its me! no story stealing has taken place! also thank you so much for everyone that leaves lovely comments and I am so sorry for leaving 'a fateful night' for like 6 months hngggg i am so bad at this, anyways this isn't a proper fanfic its just a two part thing so pls enjoy! x

Ben…Ben please…oh my god please, Ben…shit shit shit!

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WOULD SOMEONE DO SOMETHING!

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BEN, OH GOD…BEN!

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There's a swooping feeling in Peter's head as he suddenly wakes up, hot, bed sheets clinging to his sweaty back, eyes flickering around the room as he comes to, breathing rapid. Another one of those dreams…well, more nightmares…about that evening. The evening he'll never forget, never forgive himself for, and never tell Tony about – he'd loose everything he'd gained since the day it happened. His amazing friends (who were the Avengers too, which still gave him butterflies), Tony, who felt more like a Dad, the fun days and nights in the complex, tinkering with Tony, playing pool with Sam, sciencing with Bruce, all that stuff. No, that event was his to bury, to protect all he had built, he could deal with the nightmares if it meant Tony would still love him and let him keep the suit. Because Lord, Peter knew he'd crush Tony's iron heart if he found out he'd basically killed his own Uncle, been an incompetent and stupid fool, and destroyed his family life forever.

Peter happened to be at the complex that night; it was Friday, and Peter had been invited for pizza and movie night with Tony and the rest of the gang. It had gotten very late, and he'd given May a heads up that he was staying over in his room at the complex, weary after the school week and from laughing at Tony's impressions of Mrs Doubtfire. Exhaustion always gave him worse nightmares.

Peter reached over for his glass of water, to find it empty. Groaning and wiping his hand over his greasy forehead, he tiptoed out of bed and headed for the kitchen, hearing his feet unsticking from the smooth floor as he walked. The light came on at a low setting for him – courtesy of F.R.I.D.A.Y – and he filled his glass at the fridge. The ice cool water was soothing, gulping it down like he'd been to the desert, and the sudden change in temperature helped ground him.

Breathe in…hold for 7….breathe out for 8….

A mantra he repeated in his head a few times. He saw on the oven clock that it was half three in the morning, and screwed his forehead at his brain's timing.

Couldn't I have had the nightmare a little later in the morning…

As Peter walked behind the breakfast bar towards his room, he saw the glint of a bottle against the early morning light. He bent down to inspect closer, and discovered that the cupboard where this glint came from was a little hidden, and ajar. He looked up over the bar to check the coast was clear – he didn't want to be caught snooping, that would do nothing for his anxiety – and opened it fully. He'd come across the treasure of the kitchen; Tony's alcohol cupboard, which looked like it contained more than the local bars. Bottles of Bourbon, Gin, Rum of all kinds, Vodka, Tequila, Absinthe, Cointreau, and some very fancy looking beers. Peter had a strange impulse to have his own taste testing session, after all, he'd never been allowed one sip of alcohol – not counting the tiny amount of beer he'd got his hands on at one of Flash's dumb parties. They all looked so appetising and shining, all sorts of colours, liquids distilled to their finest tastes and textures… he could see why Tony drank.

Peter thought. It was rude to steal someone's drinks, even if it only would be a few tiny sips, plus he ran the risk of getting caught – the smell of booze on the breath was always noticeable, he smelt it on so many criminals he dealt with. However, Peter never really got to sleep after waking from one of his more severe nightmares - the ones that took him back in time to the very moment, that left his stomach recoiling and breathing fast. A little alcohol would definitely help him get back to sleep peacefully, maybe he'd even get to lie in, plus he could tell Ned what it really tasted like and whether Flash was just pretending to know all of the fancy drinks to look good. He was sixteen now, basically an adult, and a member of the Avengers, a few sips wouldn't hurt.

The only problem was…it most definitely did not end up being a few sips…

Tony had just fallen into the land of nod, when the voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y bled into his subconscious. Tony hadn't meant to sound harsh, but he couldn't help but grumble "Seriously Fri" as she was talking.

"Boss, it's Peter. He's intoxicated."

"Sorry…he's what now?"

"His Blood Alcohol Concentration is over .30%. Even with his metabolism that's too high Boss-"

"Fri, what do you mean alcohol content? He's been drinking?"

Tony was already throwing on a dressing gown and hurrying out of his bedroom, on his way to Peter's room, ready to throw a fit. This boy…

"It appears he's had a mixture of spirits and beer, he's in the kitchen, I've been trying to calm him down but nothing seems to be helping; he keeps shouting for Ben."

Tony whitened slightly at this. He knew Ben had been Peter's uncle and carer with his Aunt May after his parents had died, and he knew Ben was deceased – that's all Peter had ever said. Even though F.R.I.D.A.Y was an A.I., she still sounded frantic, and Tony knew this was more than it seemed.

Picking up the pace to the kitchen at a jog, his feet thumping on the soft hallway carpet, Tony's heart rate was speeding up to prepare him for the state Peter was in. He'd just reached the partition to the kitchen area when he heard groaning and wet sniffles coming from behind the breakfast bar. Tony slowed his pace, knowing he had to tread carefully.

"Peter, it's Tony. What's going on kid?" he spoke gently as he approached the boy, collapsed in on himself, head in his hands.

Tony gently moved the bottles away from Peter that had formed a circle around him; softly clinking together, and he noticed how many varieties of alcohol there were, and how some bottles were considerably more empty than others. Peter's head came up from his hands to greet Tony, and it lolled to the side as the drunkenness compromised his balance.

Being brutally honest, Peter looked like shit to Tony; the bloodshot weeping eyes, the shining red face, tousled hair. Tony had seen this look before in the mirror, after many nights of heavy drinking and overdoing it. It disturbed him to see it in one so young as Peter, one he felt a certain protection and duty over, someone who didn't deserve this pain. But the worst part was the expression behind Peter's eyes: he looked like he didn't recognise Tony at all, and he appeared to gaze right through him. The word Flashback shot through Tony's mind.

"Where's… Uncle Ben?" slurred Peter, struggling to form his consonants, "I need…to make sure he's…awlri-" His eyes rolled into his head as he started to pass out, and Tony held onto his shoulders.

"Woah Pete, steady. Stay with me, yeah?" Tony was doing his best to keep his voice level as he said quietly to the early morning light "F.R.I.D.A.Y give me his readings."

"He'll black out soon Boss, he's dehydrated, BPM at 51 and slowing. He appears to be in severe psychological distress." Came the A.I's cool voice.

Tony could see that, as Peter had waited for an answer on his Uncle Ben's whereabouts for too long and started to sob again. His eyes darted around the room as if seeing something Tony could not, and Peter gripped onto his arms.

"Please, please just help Ben!...I'm sorry I'm sorry May!" Peter's face contorted as he wailed for his Aunt and Uncle, inhaling sharply, whilst Tony was trying to put the pieces together as to what the hell Peter was talking about.

"Pete don't say sorry, you've not done anything. You're safe in the compound with me, Tony, the one that flies the big fancy metal suit around." Tony tried to sooth Peter and ground him, gently stroking his curls and wiping a few tears away in the process. Peter's voice got lower and even more broken as Tony heard the most devastating words come from his lips;

"I killed him…It's all my fault…"

Tony had no reply to that; he couldn't utter a word, and felt weighed down by this heavy knowledge, his mouth dry. Peter was slipping into unconsciousness, still whispering slurred words that Tony couldn't make out anymore. Tony didn't like the idea of getting other people involved, but he needed help carrying Peter back to bed without injuring himself, and to get some water into his system.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, wake up someone strong and tell them I need help carrying Peter to his room – don't give them time to ask questions."

"On it boss." She replied calmly. Tony supported Peter in his lap; his mouth slightly ajar, eyes softly closed, watching his eyebrows twitch as if in deep conversation with himself. Tony's heart pained at the sad affair before him, and he wondered how this had happened, Peter had seemed fine this evening watching the film and having a laugh. Another thought crossed his mind – did Peter do this often? God forbid this was a regular occurrence; Peter shouldn't have coping mechanisms like this at 16, not on Tony's watch. Help arrived in the form of Sam Wilson, interrupting his thoughts.

"What the hell happened is he alright?" Sam spoke fast as he hurried over on light footsteps, eye brows knitted together.

"He's not injured, I'll explain once we've got him in bed. If you carry him I need to get him some water with a straw." Tony gave the sleeping boy to Sam, and he lifted his dangling limbs off the ground with ease; Tony noticed how small Peter was in Sam's arms.

"Jeez Tony, have you been drinking?" Sam asked, sniffing the air. Tony turned from the tap with a fresh glass of water with a look that said 'You really don't know the half of it', and it didn't take Sam long to realise it was actually coming from the very underage boy in his arms. Tony nodded for Sam to walk towards Peter's bedroom door, and they managed to lie Peter in a fairly comfortable looking position under the covers. Tony needed to wake him so he could drink at least a little bit of water – he couldn't imagine the hangover this boy was about to experience in the morning (actually, he could), and he needed to flush the booze from his spider system. Tony gently shook Peter's shoulder, his head swaying a little and long eye lashes twitching.

"Hey Peter, come on bud, you need some water." Tony held the glass near his mouth and pointed the straw to his lips, whilst Sam supported Peter's slouching frame. Peter stirred a little more and slowly blinked his eyes open just enough to see the straw in front of his face, and like a turtle peaking its head out of its shell, he leaned and grabbed the straw and drank a few sips. Tony didn't know if Peter was aware of his surroundings yet, but at least he was confident that he needed to drink. He quietly asked F.R.I.D.A.Y for his vitals again.

"BPM risen to normal resting rate, he's still very dehydrated."

"Thanks Fri, we'll let him sleep after a few more sips of water." He said to both the A.I and Sam, running his hand over his forehead and massaging his eyes. When Peter passed out with the straw in his mouth after nearly finishing the glass, Tony filled it up at the sink once more, and left it beside Peter's bedside. He watched him sleep for a few seconds before turning the light off and leaving him in peace, or however much he could get. It would be a very strange and perhaps awkward morning tomorrow; Tony wasn't going to let this be swept under the rug.