Chapter Text
The last person Jameson expects when he answers his doorbell in the middle of the night is Spider-Man.
A few seconds of silent comprehension pass before Spider-Man slumps against the door defeatedly. “Oh god no. Please tell me your Jameson’s secret twin-brother or something.”
It’s enough to snap Jameson out of his shock. He slams the door closed, twisting the locks -though he doubts that will do him much good considering Spider-Man’s supposed strength- and calls 911.
Spider-Man must hear the ringing through the door, because he starts protesting. “No, wait-”
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“Spider-Man’s attacking me!” Jameson roars into the phone.
The woman on the end of the line sounds exasperated. “Sir, please don’t disturb us with prank calls.”
“This isn’t a prank call!” Jameson throws open the door. “He’s right here!” He points the phone at Spider-Man. The woman, not being able to see the superhero, hangs up.
Jameson glares at Spider-Man who weakly lifts up one hand in a half wave. The vigilante’s breathing comes in heavy pants, one shoulder braced against the wall to keep balance. Jameson’s gaze goes to his arm which is clutching his side protectively. A dark splotch runs down the suit.
“You’re bleeding,” Jameson says.
“Jus’ part of the job,” Spider-Man’s words slur slightly. “I’ll… I’ll go get help somewhere else.”
He turns to leave, but trips, barely grabbing hold of the porch railing to stop his fall.
Jameson sighs and opens the door wider. “Come in.”
“What?” Spider-Man looks at him like he’s just claimed that the moon landing was faked.
“I’ve got a first aid kit.” He might hate Spider-Man, but Jameson’s not about to let someone bleed out on his front lawn. Not even an arrogant criminal who deserves to be locked up in prison. “Hurry up before I change my mind.”
Spider-Man cautiously stumbles in, looking back once as if considering whether dying on Jameson’s front lawn would be a better option than going inside his house. Jameson leads Spider-Man to the kitchen. He’s got a small first aid kit there -something he learned to keep handy back when he was a young reporter.
Jameson opens the kit and gestures at Spider-Man to show him the wound. The vigilante does so, with great reluctance. He looks surprisingly scrawny under the suit though maybe that’s just because of the injury.
The wound is a deep slash that’s still trickling out blood. Maybe from a sword? But who the heck used swords these days?. "How did you get this?"
"Got in a fight," Spider-Man says, leaning against the wall. He starts to nod off before shaking himself awake.
"Well, I'll need to disinfect it," Jameson says. At Spider-Man’s tensed shoulders he adds, “Don’t worry. I’ve got training.” From a 17-page manual written in 1986, but it’s not like he hasn’t cleaned a wound before.
Spider-Man stays silent through the process. His only sign of pain is an increased breathing rate. Jameson can’t help but be a little impressed. “You do this often?”
“My au- My roommate’s a nurse,” Spider-Man pants.
It shouldn’t be surprising that Spider-Man has a life outside of being a menace to society -Jameson supposes that the vigilante has to do something when he’s not out terrorizing innocents, but he’s never really thought about it. Could Spider-Man have a family? A job? Jameson does not envy the poor sod who would have the vigilante as an employee.
“Wonder how they feel about living with a criminal,” Jameson says as he ties off the gauze and stands up.
Spider-Man doesn’t reply, slumping into the wall. A few seconds later, his breaths even out and Jameson realizes the vigilante is asleep.
He makes sure that Spider-Man isn’t likely to move before going to wash his hands. As he cleans the blood off, a thought strikes him. If he wanted to, he could look under the mask right now and find out Spider-Man’s identity. It would be the story of a lifetime! The Bugle could finally surpass those fools at the New York Examiner with their stupid awards and meddling reporters and those awful, silky beards…
Ahem. The point is, Jameson owes it to the Bugle to uncover Spider-Man’s identity.
He approaches Spider-Man slowly, careful not to wake him. A voice in the back of his mind whispers that maybe he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be invading the privacy of someone completely helpless to stop him. But Jameson ignores it. After all, what reason could Spider-Man have for hiding his identity other than avoiding the consequences for his actions?
Jameson lifts up the mask. A jaw comes into view, covered in fading bruises. Then the mouth, the nose, the eyes…
It’s a testament to his shock that the first thought that comes to his mind is ‘no wonder his photos are so good’.