Chapter Text
Yo, kid, when you came in they had to cut through the suit. But when you’re ready to split, I got a plan.
Peter nodded from the bed, then reached a hand to his side and groaned. “Jeez.”
Frank rushed back over to the bed. “Easy, kid, easy.” Peter settled back down. “You in a lot of pain?”
“N-no,” Peter said unconvincingly, his face pale beneath the bruises, sweat on his face.
Frank rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. Heroes and their bullshit.
“I guess when Jean had me, I wasn’t really feeling anything. Now I’m starting to feel… everything.” Peter admitted.
“Want me to get a nurse in here for some pain relief?” Frank gestured towards the door.
“Nah, I’m good.” Peter shook his head. “Actually– Actually, I’m real hungry Frank. Think they got anything to eat out there?”
“I’ll do ya one better kid,” Frank smirked, which Peter registered with a nervous expression on his face. Frank produced a brown paper bag from beneath his chair. “Have a sandwich. From MJ.”
Peter stared at him stupidly, mouth slightly open.
“She was here? You’re messing with me, dude! Not cool.”
“Coupla different halves of bahn mi in there. I think one might be, uh, tofu or something, I don’t know.” Frank tossed the bag into his lap. “I’ll eat what you can’t. Where’d you think that came from?” He gestured with his chin to the sketch MJ had left beside Peter’s bed.
Peter held the bag in one hand and turned his head slowly towards the gifts, finally taking in the sketch that MJ had left him.
Peter looked down at his lap. Frank watched as big drops of tears spilled onto the brown paper bag clutched in his hand.
“You cryin’, kid?” Frank laughed, suddenly finding his own eyes welling up as well. They were a mess.
“No! I’m not crying dude,” there was a beat and then Peter looked up, smiling, tears rolling down his face. “I can’t believe I’m crying in front of the Punisher.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Frank wiped at his face. “She’s cool, MJ.”
“Yeah, she’s– she’s really cool.” Peter laughed a little. He grabbed a sandwich. “She really came all the way down here.”
“She was worried about you. Pissed as hell at me, rightfully so.” Frank shook his head. He gestured at the sandwiches. “They’re pretty good. Eat. You’re gonna need your strength— they won’t discharge you til they see you, y'know, get up, walk around, take a piss.”
“The doctors tell you that?” Peter took another big bite.
“Personal experience,” Frank gestured to himself like, hello, I’m the Punisher. Peter rolled his eyes a little like, of course. Frank handed him a cup of water. “I’m serious about the pissing part. Drink up.”
Peter groaned and took a big drink.
“These sandwiches are really good.. I had to leave her place to save Jean before I got the chance to eat them.”
“What’s that mean? You guys were hanging out?” Frank prodded.
“Yeah, I took her home, hung out with her and Ned.” Peter shrugged dismissively while Frank pointed at his face as though to say, eh, eh, you’re hanging out with MJ? “We hung out as, like, friends, man.”
“Friends,” Frank repeated, thinking of MJ settling on that word. “Not a bad place to be.”
“It would be, like, awesome.” Peter smiled a little to himself, in disbelief. His smile faded. “But I’m not sure… I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Why’s that?” Frank asked.
“Well, I did all this, so she could be safe.”
Frank nodded. “And now she’s not.”
Peter nodded shakily.
“Kid, she never was .” Frank leaned back again in the chair and put a boot on the bed. “It’s not possible to truly keep the ones we love safe, believe me, I know that.”
Peter sat still, listening. In all his run ins with Frank, the subject of his family had never been brought up. They were in uncharted waters.
“And believe me, that girl? She can handle herself. Actually she’s comin’ by for chili one of these day. She wants to know about the CIA and Afghanistan and the heroin trade and all that.”
“Dude, do not hang out with MJ,” Peter protested, swinging his arms wildly around.
“You can’t control her man, just accept it. Women..,” Frank said fondly, smiling a little to himself. He thought suddenly of Karen Page, loaded gun in her purse, fearless as hell, facing down Fisk and mad bombers and corrupt officials. “They’re gonna do what they’re gonna do. If MJ wants to be your friend, man I think that’s a great thing, yknow?”
“Maybe,” Peter conceded, finally relaxing back into the bed. He took a big bite of sandwich. “Hey, I’m startin’ to feel better. How long do you think before I can get outta here?”
“Lemme flag somebody down, y'know, hospital discharge can take forever. When Maria had Frank Jr.– they damn near forgot about us for 6 hours..” Frank was grumbling to himself as he stepped out into the hall.
Tweety Bird was in the nurses station drinking coffee, looking tired as hell.
“You still on shift ma’am? Thought you’d have gone home by now.” Frank asked.
“I was done hours ago but I’ve stuck around, this vigilante business has the floor in chaos.” She didn’t look up from her computer.
“Kid’s fixin to get outta here, think we can make that happen?”
Tweety Bird looked up. She popped her reading glasses back onto her head. “With pleasure.”
“And the kid- he doesn’t have any clothes, yknow. Can we do somethin’ about that?”
“We can get him some scrubs to wear home at discharge.” She stood from her desk and went to grab some paperwork from the printer.
“I might need something more discreet.” Frank responded, thinking of the kid who is obviously beat to a pulp leaving in scrubs in front of a crowd like that.
“Gift shop is that way,” she responded without looking at him, pointing down the hall.
Frank found himself in the Gift Shop eyeballing some sweatpants and Metro General pullover. He guessed at the kids size and went to make the purchase.
When he got back to Pete’s room, a woman who Frank guessed was another nurse was having him walk back and forth across the length of the room.
“See? I’m good, I’m good,” Peter said, somewhat unconvincingly as he wobbled a bit on his last lap.
“Enhanced healing or not, you’re gonna be feeling this one for a few weeks.” She looked over at Frank with mutual understanding, as if to say, heroes and their bullshit. Frank liked her immediately.
“I’m Claire. They called me in today- I’m usually off. I guess I’ve got a reputation for handling cases like these.” She held a bunch of discharge papers in her hand.
“So, how do you do with antibiotics?” Claire held out a bag of medication.
“Um.. I don’t know, actually,” Peter said with a thoughtful frown. “Since I got my abilities, I haven’t really been sick.”
“You’ll need to take that so the wound doesn’t get infected, there could be debris and other stuff in there, fragments, yknow,” Frank said gruffly, feeling like he would throw up.
“According to the notes from surgery,” Claire said, now standing at a computer she had rolled into the room, “your body began pushing out some of the debris. Interesting. But you should still follow the directions, twice a day and make sure you eat with them.”
Peter smiled a bit too brightly at Frank. “See? I’m good.”
“Don’t try to make me feel better about this, kid, jeez,” Frank scratched the back of his neck.
“How about some pain relief to go home with?” Claire offered.
“I'm fine!” Peter insisted.
“Hook him up with the good stuff, would ya doc?” Frank added lowly, “You know how these types get.”
Claire laughed. “I do.” She gestured to the bathroom attached to the room. “Have you gone to the bathroom yet? Need help in there?”
Peter looked mortified at the prospect of Claire helping him in the bathroom.
“Cmon kid,” Frank steered him by the shoulder into the bathroom and pushed him in, half closing the door behind him. He turned his back to the bathroom, facing Claire.
“Dude! Boundaries!” Peter called from inside the room.
“Faster you get done in there faster you can go home.” Frank retorted while motioning to Claire like this fuckin guy. Claire set the instructions and medications out beside the bed. Frank gave her a thumbs up when she put the pain medication down too.
“Okay, okay,” Peter called back. Claire disappeared out of the room.
When Frank heard the toilet flush and sink running, he picked up the sweatpants from the gift shop bag and passed them through the cracked door.
“Oh, hey, thanks man.” Peter accepted them and slipped them on under his paper gown.
Peter emerged from the bathroom and Frank handed him the pullover. He briefly caught a glimpse of Peter's bruised and bandaged chest, his jaw clenching painfully. But Peter didn't notice, and Frank said nothing. The moment passed.
He arranged the discharge papers and medication in the empty gift bag and handed them to Peter. “Follow all the instructions in there, ya hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter said, waving Frank off. Frank held the tattered remains of the Spidey suit in his hands.
“Ya gonna want this back?”
“Every scrap counts,” Peter said seriously.
“Whatever you say, Pete,” Frank said easily. “I'll keep it safe for ya. Come by my place this week for it.”
Peter nodded and started to head out. “Thanks. Hey.. what're you gonna do, anyway?”
“You'll see,” Frank nodded at the door with his chin. Peter left with a little wave and shuffled out into the hall.
Thank god the mask looked stretchy.