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Matt wakes up from a dreamless sleep, from a loud thud coming from his ceiling. Which means, something gracefully landed on the roof. Fuck.
Judging by the throaty whine and rapid heartbeat that follow, he has an idea, as to who he might find on his rooftop.
With a sigh, he presses the button to his alarm, 2:25 AM, grabs the nearest pairs of clothing to cover himself —because he absolutely does not want to flash some Spider-kid, even though, the kid has seen him shirtless from the amounts of times he’s stitched Matt up on his fucking couch— and heads towards the rooftop.
He shivers, as cold air rushes past him, though it goes ignored, as Matt makes his way towards the face-planted figure.
If it weren’t for the quick-paced heartbeat, the older vigilante would’ve believed that Spider-Man had died. On his rooftop.
“Kid?” He grunts, looming over the trembling body.
He receives a faint hum in response. Spider-Man doesn’t make any move to get up, and Matt is concerned.
Fortunately, he doesn’t smell any iron or rust, which means the kid isn’t bleeding. But the kid is barely responding, which is so unusual that it makes Matt extremely uncomfortable.
“Peter.” He calls out a second time.
There’s rustling beneath him, and with great effort, Peter rolls onto his back, as he stays slump on the gravel. He’s exhausted, disoriented and mentally drained, that he hadn’t realized he had forgotten to refill his web fluid.
The teen had gotten a nightmare which triggered an existential crisis and made him spiral down a rabbit hole of thoughts. He hasn’t been able to break free from it, since last week and it’s taken a toll on his performance.
“Heya Mr. Murdock, didn’t mean to wake y’up.” Matt decides not to comment on the ‘Mr. Murdock’.
Jesus, Mary, Joseph, this kid will be the death of him.
Peter hasn’t laid down in a while, since he’s been so afraid of falling asleep and getting that goddamn nightmare again.
Matt sighs, something Peter has quickly grown familiar with.
“… S’fine. But seriously, what the hell are you doing here in Hell’s Kitchen at… two in the morning..” He bites back a yawn, as he waits for an answer.
Matt crosses his arms, as he’s debating on simply picking the teen up and bringing him back inside, because he remembers the kid mentioning about how he couldn’t thermoregulate. Shit.
It has gotten pretty cold, now that winter is coming.
“Oh, y’know— Got bored and decided to swing ‘round…” Which is half the truth. Hm…
The older vigilante sighs again, before he pushes Spidey to ‘get up before you fucking freeze to death’ to which Peter begrudgingly complies. ‘You know Mr. Murdock, your roof is quite comfy…’
Matt is one inch away from smacking the Spider’s forehead. Maybe, it would knock some senses back into that overworked brain of his.
His movement is sluggish and Matt wonders, when was the last time Peter had slept.
He doesn’t question out loud, since he knows Peter will give him a half-ass answer.
“Oh man, it’s pretty warm in here. Even better than th’ roof! Real’ cozy, kinda jealous.” Matt can’t see, but can certainly feel the lopsided grin.
As if second nature, he casually walks into his bedroom to retrieve some blankets, a pair of sweats and a hoodie, he knows will be too large for Peter. Oh well.
Peter doesn’t even protest, when the clothes are handed out to him, which raises even more concerns. The kid would always ramble on about ‘not wanting to be a burden.’ and ‘I’m really fine, it’s okay!’.
To which, the other would then send an unimpressed glare.
But for now, Matt is focusing on warming the kid up, because he’s still shivering.
He sets the blankets on his sofa, before striding towards his kitchen, where he begins to make some hot cocoa. The kid has a nasty sweet tooth, Matt knows this. He knows a lot of other things about Peter.
He’s gotten to know the kid pretty well. Fuck. He’s getting sentimental.
He hates that he doesn’t hate it.
The kid was alone and didn’t have anyone to lean on, and Matt was far too willing to take the role to be depended on. Matt knows Peter is scared of opening up, which is why he takes things slow.
He has to, because he doesn’t want to scare the kid away.
He sets the two steaming mugs on his counter, and he’s about to scavenge for any potential snacks he has lying around, when he hears another thud.
He doesn’t hesitate to open the bathroom door, and Peter is there, face planted, again, in Matt’s clothes, as the Spider-Man suit is left discarded in the sink.
Jesus, Mary, Joseph.
Matt crouches down, and his hands touch cold skin. Honestly, if you told him they were ice cubes and he was drunk and was late on a week’s worth of sleep, maybe he’d believe you.
You know, with the whole enhanced senses.
He feels around, and realizes that he’s holding Peter’s shaking hand. Was his hand always this small?
Baby hand.
“Peter? Peter. Bud, you gotta wake up, I have a couch and a bed you can sleep on.” Matt, himself, is definitely not going to sleep for the rest of the time he has left.
There’s a violent flinch, and Peter freezes, as his eyes land on vacant ones. Familiar ones that have grown to be comforting.
He never dared to admit that, but Matt already knows it.
Peter’s probably the only one who gets to see Matt the most, without his iconic red glasses, when they aren’t in public. Foggy enjoys teasing him about it, and Matt always rolls his eyes.
“Oh, hey man. What are— What are you doing here?” Peter pushes himself up, so he’s sitting on the bathroom floor. And he now remembers that this isn’t his bathroom floor.
“N-Never mind..” Matt can feel heat radiating off of the teen’s face, and he allows himself to snort in amusement.
He gently guides Peter to the main area, where he pushes the teen to sit down, and envelops him in the bundle of blankets.
When he’s satisfied, he heads off to retrieve his abandoned hot chocolate, and offers one, to which Peter quietly accepts.
Matt settles besides him, listening to that running pace of the teen’s heart.
He’s heard it enough times, for it to grow into something comforting. Like a lullaby.
They quietly sip on their mugs, for awhile, the drinks, having long since cooled down.
Matt knows, when to push and when not to, and right now, he’s letting Peter set the pace.
Whenever he’s ready, he’ll talk and when he isn’t, he won’t.
It’s simple.
Well, not really, but you get the point.
“… Thanks..” He lets the quiet word sink in, before humming out a response.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t feel awkward or tense. Or maybe, he does, he just doesn’t want to acknowledge it.
He isn’t so sure.