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Chapter 1 - Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful Boy
Peter Parker was an interesting addition to the life of Matt Murdock, and even more so to Frank Castle.
There was an absolute tank of a man (Matt learned quickly, he was a tank of a man named Rhino) terrorizing his streets. Frank’s rubber bullets were not doing any damage— which Daredevil received an earful of later, stressing he needs at least one gun with real steel— and Matt was just a few seconds away from becoming one with the building behind him. Until Spiderman swooped in and saved the day.
Literally swooping. Grabbing Daredevil around the waist, and swinging to the roof. On a web.
“Mr. Murdock! I’m so sorry! Rhino just keeps running further and further from Queens.”
“How do you know who I am?!” Daredevil seethed, the Rhino forgotten.
This led to a world of rambling. Apparently, Matt took a case for Peter Parker (the kid shares his name too freely) before a spell made everyone forget about him. Spiderman was speaking a million miles a minute. It was impressive how infrequently he needed air. Frank was ready to strangle the poor college student, but Matt intervened and said they should talk the entire thing out over a late night cup of coffee.
“Coco for the kid. He’s goin’ to give himself a heart attack ramblin’ like that,” Frank snorted.
Learning Peter really did not have a lot of friends, and the sad fate of his aunt, Matt and, therefore, Frank, took him under their wing. It was just simple patrols at first, then grew into greater missions. Meals every now and again turned into nearly a nightly dinner. Peter even has a drawer for his extra clothes at their apartment.
Peter also started slipping and calling Matt mom.
“Sorry, mom!” Peter had yelled one night, swinging away on a web after dropping off a month’s worth of laundry.
Matt grumbled in frustration. And has every time mom has slipped since. But he did the laundry anyway. Matt supposed the mom comments made sense… he did lecture Peter quite a bit. Eating habits, sleep schedule, getting into trouble on patrols… the list goes on.
Frank loved it. Every time, it made him bark a laugh, followed by some sort of “Want’a be my wife, Matty?” comment.
Well, forgive him Father, but wife Matt’s ass, because Frank was the one in the kitchen, stirring a pot of sauce over the stove and preparing everyone’s plate. He even made homemade bread for the antipasto. While Matt nibbled on the bruschetta Frank had put together, Peter was going over some college work at the dining table, prattling Matt’s ears off like he usually did.
“But when I mentioned this to Wade, he told me it wasn’t worth—”
“Who’s Wade?” Matt asked. That was not someone in Peter’s usual friend group.
More rambling ensued. Frank stepped around the island and carried two plates over to Peter and Matt, checkered dishtowel thrown over his shoulder. There was still crusted blood on it from after their patrol, the scent of iron tangling with the rich tomato sauce Frank had made.
“Eat up. Matt, fork is three o’clock on the plate, spoon is at your six.”
Frank went back to get his plate, listening to the scrapes of spoons and forks while the two tasted their pasta. Matt fought the urge to use his hands, but decided to be polite for Peter’s sake. Spiderman was already going for his second bite, a satisfied noise escaping his lips.
“Well?” Frank asked, hearing forks scrape plates as the second bite was had.
“Very good, Frank. Thank you, dear.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s the best. Real authentic! I never eat this good at the hall. Thanks, dad!”
Matt would’ve laughed, teased Frank like he always did to him with those stupidly-endearing wife comments, but every muscle in Frank’s body tensed. His jaw clamped, like an alligator refusing to let go of a meal. Matt heard his heart increase, the anxiety thrumming in his ears like a snare, Peter, unaware of Frank’s past and trauma, kept eating and prattling. Before Matt could excuse himself to talk to Frank, his shoulders relaxed, air leaving his lungs in a soft sigh. Matt heard Frank prepare his own plate, with the sound of his lips pulling over his teeth in a sharp smile.
“Stop talkin’ with your mouth full, Pete.”
Matt forgot to ask Peter who Wade was. Especially after Frank broke out a bottle of wine for their meal.
Chapter 2 - Close Your Eyes
Peter sipped at his mug of chamomile tea, watching Frank pick apart his webshooter. Matt heard his heart thrumming in his chest, like a rabbit caught in a trap. Peter was the prey, and Frank was the predator. Tension flowed in the room, settling thick in the air, like the weeds both men were hiding in. Matt tried to make tea to coax them both into getting along, but it seems the hunt was a natural order.
The Punisher and Daredevil were busting some of Fisk’s men and Peter asked if he could help, wanting more experience so he knew how to handle himself if anything happened in Queens. His task was a group of five, causing a distraction so the Punisher and Daredevil could slip in and take care of the bigger group. Unfortunately, as Spiderman swooped down, his webshooter didn’t work. He slammed into the opposite side of the building, onto the floor, and was swarmed. Daredevil heard the entire thing, up until the sound of a trigger being pulled…
But Frank saved Peter. He disarmed the men, threw Peter over his shoulder, and told Matt they blew it and needed to retreat. Peter was pretty hurt when they climbed through the window of Matt’s apartment, but Frank righted him with ice and painkillers while his healing factor brought him back to normal.
“What happened?” Matt asked gently. He tried to feel the arm of the suit to detect any issues, but all of the mechanics seemed to be in place. Frank managed to figure out how to open the wrist and arm of the suit, so he could look at the little wires and screws. Matt didn’t know where he got all of the tiny screwdrivers from, but was glad he had a set. The only thing Frank found so far was a few loose bolts.
“I was going to take care of Fisk’s men, like you said, and when I got down and tried to remove their weapons, my left webshooter wasn’t working. It was, uh, clogged I think—”
Frank stopped Peter in the middle of his sentence. Matt set a hand on his arm, hearing his blood rush to his head and his hand as he gripped the flathead screwdriver. His heart was beating steady, but fast. He was worried about Peter.
“How does your million dollar, Stark-tech, fancy, candy-ass, suit get clogged? I have guns far cheaper than this, that have been around longer than you’ve been alive, that give me less hassle.”
“But. Frank, I really didn’t—”
Peter was cut off again.
“Do you have any idea how lucky you were that Matt and I were already there? Those guys were gonna—”
Peter let his eyes fall to his lap.
“I’m really sorry, dad. I was just trying to do the right thing.”
Frank stiffened again, the spike in his heartbeat causing Matt to jolt in his seat. It wasn’t the intense reaction that occurred in the kitchen a couple of weeks back, but it was still enough that Matt reached a hand out to rest on Frank’s knee under the table. He sighed, relaxing, and fixing his grip on the screwdriver.
“Why d’ya keep calling me that?”
Peter flushed, from the tips of his ears down the collar of his hoodie.
“I guess it just… slips?”
Frank grunted and jammed the flathead a little harder in the webshooter. Thick webbing shot out with an impressive force, clearly worked up from misuse. Matt heard it splat the window behind him and Frank. Peter gasped, then tested the webshooter a few more times, getting out the built up gunk and pressure until it went back to normal.
“You fixed it!”
“Pete, this thing is like a gun. You gotta clean her out after you use it, to keep it runnin’ smooth. Y’know how many times cleaning my weapons saved my ass, because the other guy’s gun was gunked up?”
Matt smiled behind his teacup as Frank and Peter went over cleaning practices. Frank even went through his idea of the process for the webshooters, showing Spiderman how to do it quickly and efficiently so it can be done after patrols. With the other, Frank gave Peter the tools and walked him through a more in-depth process. By the end, he clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder and told him good work.
“Now that deserves a cup of hot chocolate!” Frank said, heading into the kitchen with Peter on his heels.
Matt grinned. Maybe it makes sense that Peter keeps making dad comments…
Chapter 3 - Have No Fear
“Alrgiht,” Frank said, clapping his hands together once he set his weapons down, “Pete, go get showered. Matt, c’mere and let me patch ya up.”
It was another horrible patrol. There was nothing worse than not getting where you needed to be on time. And the trio was just seconds shy of saving more people than they did. With terrible spirits, Peter ceasing his rambles for once, they went back to the apartment without bothering to use the window. Matt was receding into his thoughts and Peter was shaking like a leaf, so Frank did what the military taught him: keep them busy.
Peter showered while Frank helped Matt from his suit, then cleaned whatever scrapes he received during the night. Then, he heated up a few slices of cold pizza and told Matt to eat. At this point, Peter was done from the shower and Matt went for his. Frank gave Peter the rest of the pizza and took off the holsters he forgot were still on.
Now, Peter and Matt were looking to Frank again, waiting for their next order.
“Right. Everyone to bed.”
“All of us?” Matt asked, some small, sad smile on his face.
“You heard me, pretty thing. You and Pete, go lay down. I’ll be there in a second.”
Reluctantly, Matt ushered Peter into their bedroom. Frank heard sheets and blankets being fluffed and pillows being flattened before he went into the kitchen. He grabbed two mugs and filled each with a bit of milk before putting it in the microwave. It seemed silly, giving a grown man and a college student warm milk, but it always calmed his kids down after a rough night. That, and a story.
Frank grabbed Lisa’s old children’s book from the coffee table and went into the bedroom. He kicked off his combat boots before entering and gave each of his boys their mug of warm milk.
“I haven’t had warm milk since I was a kid,” Peter laughed, his mood a bit brighter.
“Going to read us a story too, Frank?” Matt joked.
Frank rustled the pages with a smirk, causing Matt to laugh. So, he brought the silk sheets up over both of them, and sat at the edge of the bed. He didn’t have the best reading voice, but kept going once he heard two sighs of relief. Tension seemed to melt away as he read story after story, Peter and Matt finishing their milk and nestling further into the covers.
It was funny, Peter mused, in and out of consciousness as he listened to Frank read. The man that had blood on his hands, the infamous Punisher that had criminals crying and pissing themselves, was sitting at the edge of the bed in his typical, white-skulled gear, reading Spiderman and the Daredevil, a children's book. After bringing them glasses of warm milk.
At the end of the last story, Frank stood as quietly as his joints would allow, then bent to press a kiss to Matt’s brow and smooth damp hair back from Peter’s head. He set the book on the night stand and headed for the door; he was still dressed in his gear, grime, and blood.
“Goodnight, Spooky,” Matt yawned, already half-asleep, face buried in Frank’s pillow.
“Night, dad,” Peter mumbled, definitely asleep from under the covers.
“G’night, sweet thing. Sleep well, Pete.”
Dad.
He was getting used to Peter slipping, but it still made his heart clench, his mind race. It reminds him of what he lost, what he has now. But it was oddly endearing… comforting. A thunderstorm that was nerve-wracking and soothing, hearing Peter Parker call him— the Punisher— dad, were one and the same.
Frank softly shut the door to the bedroom. With a sigh, he picked up lingering pieces of Spiderman’s suit and Daredevil’s armor. Then, he put his own gear away and got into the shower, washing with military efficiency just in case Peter or Matt woke up and needed another story. When he was done, he poured a finger of Matt’s good whiskey over ice and sat on the couch. He tried to not mull over the events of the night; that never helped anybody. Instead, he sipped his whiskey to calm the remaining nerves and read the classic on the coffee table. He was never one for Jane Austen, but maybe he got smarter with age, because he was enjoying it now.
He checked on Pete and Matt once, making sure there were no lingering nightmares, and went to get a second glass of whiskey and read more of his book. Somewhere between the last sip of his nightcap and the middle of the book, Frank dozed off.
The first time he woke up on the couch, his broken body protesting, Matt was curled up into his side, auburn head laying on the junction between his chest and shoulder and the small throw blanket tossed over the both of them. Frank nestled his nose into Matt’s hair, inhaling deep and smiling into the top of his scalp. Of course Matt would come find him during the night, half asleep and deciding he didn’t want to be alone.
The second time he woke, neck absolutely cricked, Peter was under his other arm, laying across his lap with his head on Matt’s thigh. It was endearing, both of his boys coming to him again for comfort. He really wishes they would’ve woken him up and the three could’ve piled into bed, like Lisa and Frankie used to do when they had a bad day at school or nightmares. Frank sighed, stretching his legs onto the coffee table, leaning his head back against the couch, trying not to jostle Matt or Peter. His back would probably be bugging him for weeks, yet a smile settled on his face.
Who knew the privilege of being the anchor of the house would once feel like an ache in his heart, and now is so rewarding.
Chapter 4 - The Monster’s Gone
Matt was blind, but still loved going to the movies. Frank tried to bring him at least once a month, the two sitting close enough Matt could steal Frank’s bodyheat and get fed popcorn, the spoiled princess he was. They usually tried to go late at night, both to optimize the deals and have an empty theatre so Frank could tell Matt what was happening. It always worked nicely.
This time, Peter tagged along with them. It was some horror movie, and originally, Frank wanted an excuse to hold Matt. But, it was really hard to resist big, brown puppy dog eyes. So, Frank bought an extra ticket and invited Peter to the late-night film, saying it was a mandatory day off. So, the trio walked through the empty streets of Hell’s Kitchen to the old theatre. Frank bought the popcorn and sodas, grumbling his disgust when Peter tugged Matt and him over to the candy counter.
“There is no way I’m buyin’ that overpriced candy,” Frank grumbled, still holding Matt’s hand despite juggling the popcorn and their drink.
“Come on, Frank. Live a little!” Matt said, squeezing his hand.
“Yeah, please, dad?!” Peter begged, his face still pressed against the glass like a little kid.
Matt smiled; it seems Frank was getting used to being dad to Peter. His heart didn’t race at all, his lungs didn’t intake a sharp breath. Instead, he sighed.
“Pick one,” he compromised. “You too, pretty thing.”
“Well, I can’t exactly see them…” Matt droned.
Frank sighed again. Peter ended up picking three different candies instead of just one: something chocolate, something sugary, and something sour. The Punisher, both killer and family man, paid for their treats and got stuck carrying them too. Matt thought they must make an interesting group; Frank carrying all of their treats, with Matt holding on to one arm and Peter grabbing Frank’s other.
“Watch your step, Red,” Frank said, tapping the toe of his combat boots on the steps heading into the theater so Matt could sense where they were.
Matt sat to Frank’s left, Peter to the right, so he could hold the popcorn and both men could take their share. The theater was nearly completely empty, so Frank felt a bit better about having to murmur to Matt the important parts. Besides, this movie has been out for a few weeks already, so it wasn’t nearly as popular as some of the others.
Peter dumped all of the chocolate candy in the popcorn bucket once the movie started. Frank had a few handfuls, Matt had whatever Frank fed him (spoiled brat, Frank thought), and Peter ate most of it. There were a few jump scares that had Frank laughing as Peter jumped and grabbed his arm, which caused Matt to jump from the sharp intake of breath and increase of Spiderman’s heart. Really, it was a pretty boring, pretty basic horror film.
Matt and Peter stayed curled into Frank for most of the movie, occasional jumps. At the halfway point, Frank was pretty sure they’d dozed off. It made it easier for Frank when one jumpscare startled him.
When the credits rolled, Frank stretched his arms out with a sigh. Matt was curled into his left side, long asleep, mouth wide open and glasses pushed up over his eyebrows. Peter was more graceful, leaning on Frank’s shoulder with slightly-parted lips. So much for thinking a horror movie would be too scary. Heh.
It was cute, watching the two sleep. Until Frank realized he was going to have to somehow carry both Peter and Matt out of the movie theater.
Chapter 5 - He’s On The Run
Matt sighed over his cup of coffee, rubbing his face under his red glasses. Frank grunted in agreement, tugging his black baseball cap lower so his eyes were mostly hidden. Not that anyone would notice the Punisher, with his grown out hair and facial hair. Besides, it was New York. No one would really care, unless they were old enemies or criminals.
It was another sleepless night tracking down drug lords and traffickers, only catching a break when dawn was looming over the vigilantes. They barely slept when they got back to Matt’s apartment, between hashing out plans and patching up injuries. There was not enough coffee in the world to keep them awake, but Matt dragged Frank to the cafe anyway.
“Sugar to the left, sweetheart,” Frank said, watching Matt’s fingers gently poke around the table.
Matt dumped a few tablespoon fulls in his mug, stirring it and sipping at the coffee again. Much better. Maybe the sugar will keep him awake, too. His ears pricked up, hearing a familiar heartbeat.
“I think that’s Pete,” Frank said.
No sooner was Spiderman practically bouncing his way across the cafe, bringing all sunshine and rainbows with him. Matt couldn’t help but grin, and he knew without needing to feel Frank's lips, the other was smiling too. There were more footsteps with Peter, probably some of his friends.
“Oh my gosh! What are you guys doing here?” Peter asked, bounding around the small table and dragging Frank and Matt into an embrace. Frank made it look like he was resisting, but it was all an act.
“Guys, this is my dad, Fr–Pete Castiglione, and my mom, Matt Murdock,” Spiderman smiled, resting a hand on their shoulders.
Frank smiled across the table at Peter’s study group, his arm coming to rest around Matt once Peter let them go from his embrace. Matt grinned; he didn’t even hesitate at dad anymore.
“What’re you doin’ here?” Frank asked after Peter’s group of friends introduced themselves.
“Oh, just studying. It’s good to get off campus sometimes,” one of the girls said.
“She also owes me a coffee, I helped her get an ‘A’ in our chemistry lab.”
Peter started prattling again, earning a groan from another girl in the group as she ushered him to the counter so they could place their orders. Frank snorted, making a comment about never wanting to deal with a caffeinated Peter Parker. Matt didn’t agree outloud, but what he said internally about Peter’s rambles was his business…
Frank sipped his coffee, saying something that fell on dead ears. Instead, Matt let his ears wander to determine where Peter and his study group sat. He really wasn’t intending to overhear their conversation, but the talk of his dad, Pete, caught Matt’s attention. Two girls thought Frank was hot, one thought he was scary-hot.
“Well, duh! He’s hot, but in a scary way. Like the Punisher. But it’s so sweet they named you after your dad, Peter!”
Matt snorted.
“Eavesdroppin’, Red?” Frank said, taking a sip from his mug.
“One of the girls thinks it’s cute we named him after you. She also thinks you’re scary-hot, like the Punisher.”
Frank laughed, then rubbed his face. Oh, if only they knew what Frank would be up to tonight, with the white skull painted on his kevlar and strapped with more weapons than a red county. At least he was opting for kneecaps and shoulders instead of heads.
“Well, I guess it makes sense, if he keeps callin’ us his folks. He does kinda look like ya, huh?”
Matt did not hear Frank at all, for he was gripping his mug for dear life. One of the boys was politely poking fun at Peter for calling Matt his mom, when the girl that thought Frank was scary-hot smacked his arm and asked Peter: “Did you tell them about your boyfriend?”
Peter choked on his coffee. Matt heard it get aspirated into his lungs.
“Shhh! Stop! I don’t even want to know what Fra— uh— Pete— I don’t even want to know what my dad would say to him! I think they might all know each other already…”
This received many hoots and hollers from the girls.
“I think your mom would keep him in check,” the boy snickered.
Frank raised his eyebrows at Matt. There were only a few things that got the tips of his ears that red: aggravation in the court room, alcohol, Frank’s stubble against his nape, and a surprise he didn’t see coming.
“Spit it out, angel,” Frank sighed.
“I think I know why Pete has been skipping out on patrols. It’s definitely not chemistry homework.”
Epilogue - And Your Daddy’s Here
“Absolutely not,” Matt hissed, hands scrambling the cupboard for the honey.
“Mom, please. I do love him!” Peter croaked, reaching around Matt for the honey he had accidentally placed on the second shelf earlier that week. Matt tore it from his hands, placing it with a thunk on the tray of tea cups and rattling the sugar dish. Mom. Peter was evil for pulling that card, with that tone!
“What will Frank say? We already worry about you enough!”
Peter was really, really good at hiding his boyfriend from Daredevil and the Punisher. For months, he was careful, keeping his liver out of Matt’s earshot and Frank’s watchful gaze. That is… until Matt caught the both of them rutting against each other in a dark alley.
What made matters worse was when none other than Deadpool turned around, mask pulled up to his nose and lips wet with saliva, hands fisted in Peter’s hair. And the bastard didn’t even pull away, just grinned, and asked Matt if he saw something he liked.
Of course, Daredevil turned on his heel and started finding the nearest fire escape to crawl up so he could tell Frank. Maybe this would be the night Matt let him break his no-kill rule. Peter had run after him, and with his stupid, pleading eyes, begged Daredevil for Wade’s chance.
Now… the Punisher was glaring daggers at Deadpool across the kitchen table. Matt had left them alone to make chamomile tea, so Frank didn’t tear Wade apart. Peter was on his heels, still begging to give Wade a chance. While Daredevil and Spiderman hissed back-and-forth in the kitchen, Deadpool and the Punisher were having a very different conversation.
“I don’t know, Punny… I still think I prefer my katanas,” Wade hummed.
“Can’t bring’a knife to a gun fight,” Frank snorted.
“You haven’t seen just what my sword is capable of. Maybe ask Pete—”
“Finish that sentence and he’ll be scrubbing your brain off of the window.”
Deadpool thought.
“You wouldn’t do that to my baby boy.”
Before Frank could reach over the table and strangle him, Matt and Peter walked back in with a tray of tea. It was supposed to be pleasant. Meeting the man that stole Peter’s heart. Frank pulled out Matt’s chair, resting his arm comfortably over the back while Peter prepared everyone’s cups.
“So how long has this been goin’ on?” Frank asked, sipping the scalding tea. He didn’t flinch.
“About a year,” Peter said, cheeks flushed.
Matt thought he was going to pass out. Instead, he took a sip of tea, putting his lawyer’s face on. Frank’s trigger finger twitched. For a few moments, it was a staring match. Frank glared at Wade. Matt tried to, from behind his glasses, but he was looking slightly over Wade’s right ear. Peter tried breaking the tension with a smile. Finally, he sighed.
“Just say it, Frank,” Peter grumbled, stirring some honey into his cup.
“Say what?” Wade asked, like an idiot. Peter knocked their knees under the table.
“You better not hurt my kid, Wade. I know Deadpool can’t die, but he can still feel pain, ain’t that right?” Frank smiled, and Matt knew it was the same wrathful grin most criminals received before the Punisher did what he does best.
Wade’s slight increase in his heartbeat wasn’t nearly as lovely as Peter’s when Frank addressed him as his kid. Matt could basically hear the excitement bouncing around in his body, especially once he grabbed Wade’s hand under the table and squeezed hard. Matt wasn’t even sure Frank knew what he said, too intent on promising Wade a world of pain, but that made it sweeter. A slip of the tongue, an accidental look into his true feelings. A man, who once lost everything, then lived in a world of blood and violence found his peace. Found his love. His Matt. His Peter.
“Well, holidays are going to be interesting,” Wade said.
Matt smiled. Who would’ve thought, he would have his own family. One with the Punisher, who he despised nearly ten years prior.
“I told you that you’d get the shovel talk,” Peter smiled, gently kicking Frank’s shin under the table.
Frank stood, squeezing Matt’s shoulder.
“I could use a drink. Or five. Why don’t we all head down to Josie’s?”