Chapter Text
The first time Peter ran into Frank was a frigid November morning. It was technically morning, even if the sun hadn't begun to rise and the streets were still empty. Peter was slumped against a wall in the back of an alley. It wasn't the ideal place to be but the shelter from the wind was nice. Lately the cold had been bothering him more than normal. He'd resolved to make the suit a little warmer when he got home, but the last fight of his patrol had left him exhausted. It had taken the last of his energy to peel off the suit and slide into the alleyway he had chosen to rest in.
His eye was still stinging, a nasty black eye forming. It would be gone by nightfall, a small comfort. His enhanced healing was the only reason he'd been able to limp away from the finished fight. He'd won. Spiderman nearly always did these days. He'd left the superpowered thugs webbed to the wall with a note for the police captain. They were a new group, and damn they were annoying to fight. It always left him battered and bruised.
Peter hugged his backpack closer, curling in on himself to try to stay warm. He was just gonna catch his breath, take a moment to rest his eyes before he swung back to his place. As his breathing slowed all the pain he'd been ignoring hit him in full force. His shoulder was throbbing fiercely. Felt like it had almost been dislocated, an unpleasant sensation to say the least. He wasn't ready to be swinging across New York on it just yet. His ribs were tender. Peter didn't have to look to know he had purple bruises all down his side. The nasty gash on his calf was already looking a little better. A burning pain, but fairly minor. Gross to look at but unimportant overall.
Peter sighed, eyes drifting shut. Just a few minutes of rest, and then he'd be fine.
He startled awake, someone nudging his shoulder gently.
“Kid? You okay?”
It was still early. The chill in the air and the relative quiet of the street confirmed it. The light was still dim, but compared to the darkness of before it was blinding. Peter blinked groggily, attempting to sit up properly. His joints were stiff and the movement clunky. He was still trying to wake up fully when the man spoke again.
“Bud? Can you hear me?”
Peter nodded, wiping his eyes. “Yeah- yeah.” His voice was hoarse, barely louder than a whisper. “Just dozed off.”
The man frowned at him. Peter's eyes tracked along the man looming over him. Messy hair under a beanie, thick brows. Dark brown eyes, and a nose that had clearly been broken a few times before. The man's body was mostly hidden by the dark blue jacket he had on, but it was clear he was muscular. It would've been intimidating, if not for the clear concern radiating off him. And the fact that Peter had superpowers, and could undoubtedly handle a civilian.
Peter slowly stood up, trying to wave away the man's concern. Instead his numb legs gave way, and he practically collapsed onto the man. The man caught him easily, holding him gently.
“Awh dammit kid. What are you doing in weather like this? Far too cold for this kinda thing.”
“I'm okay- I'm fine really. Just not fully awake yet. I'm good.”
The man shook his head, holding Peter steady with one hand as he slipped off his jacket. “You're freezing. Makes me cold just looking at you.”
“I'm fine- no, no keep your jacket.”
The man shook his head, already helping Peter into the jacket. The effect was instantaneous. It was too large on him, hem sitting midway down his thighs. It was clearly well loved, getting a little worn in the elbows. And it was incredibly warm. Peter could practically feel the colour returning to his cheeks as he curled in on himself, tugging the jacket closer to his body.
“There, isn't that better? Look lets get you a nice warm breakfast somewhere okay? There's a good diner, just round that corner. What do you say?”
Peter shook his head, pulling his backpack on as he steadied himself. His body seemed to be waking up enough now that he could walk without embarrassing himself and the ache in his shoulder had faded into a manageable throb. “I'm alright. Gotta get home.”
The disbelief on the man's face would've been a little more insulting if Peter hadn't just spent the morning sleeping in an alleyway.
“You sure you don't want some breakfast first? They got the best damn scrambled eggs you've ever tasted, swear on my life.”
Peter shoved his hands into the coat's deep pockets. It did sound tempting. His stomach had passed the point of grumbling with hunger and was now just painfully cramping. His own fridge was embarrassingly bare, and his wallet was equally empty. Whoever said being a superhero paid well was a liar.
“C'mon kid, I'm heading there anyway. You'd be doing me a favour. It gets boring eating alone.”
He knew he shouldn't. He shouldn't take advantage of this man's kindness. He wasn't homeless, and he didn't need his help. Someone else definitely deserved it more. But the thought of a nice warm meal right now was almost enough to make Peter cry.
“Alright.”
The man grinned, patting Peter on the back. The friendly gesture made him wince, the man's hand just a little too rough on his beat up back. The man seemed to notice, pulling his hand away with an embarrassed look.
“Thanks kid. This way.”
The man led him out the alley and across the quiet street. There was beginning to be some signs of life, people driving to work or heading home from overnight shifts. A few joggers, some dog walkers. Early morning stuff. Peter spent the walk watching the other man out of the corner of his eye. He was muscular, wearing a thick black sweater and long jeans. He looked fairly warm still, even without his jacket, a fact that helped Peter relax slightly. It was bad enough accepting this man's jacket, to take it and leave the kind stranger freezing would've just been cruel.
“Got a name kid?”
“Oh. Uh, Peter.
The man smiled slightly. “Alright uh Peter. I'm Frank.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
As they rounded the corner Peter finally caught a good glimpse of himself in a darkened window. It was no wonder Frank had been worried. He looked about as terrible as he felt. The black eye was half faded now but still obvious enough. His whole face was red with the cold, and his hair a dirty mess. It wasn't just that. He looked exhausted, one too many lonely nights on patrol showing in his face. That, combined with his ratty sneakers, faded jeans and threadbare backpack it wasn't any surprise Frank assumed Peter was down on his luck. And, of course, the sleeping in alleyways thing didn't help either.
“Just in here. I know it don't look like much but the foods something else. Best way to start your day.” Frank said as he pushed open the glass door.
He wasn't kidding. The diner was small, lit nearly entirely from the hazy early morning light streaming through the large windows. It was mostly empty, a few people hanging around the counter getting refills on their coffee. The booths seemed cramped, and the whole place looked old and faded. It also smelt delicious. Frank pointed Peter towards one of the brown booths as he waved to the waitress. Peter slid into his seat, pressing up against the window to watch the city wake up. It was a surprisingly peaceful moment. He almost didn't notice when Frank sat across from him.
“Got you a menu, here. Pick anything you want kid. Do you drink coffee?”
Peter nodded as he pretended to skim through the flimsy cardboard menu. “I'll just get whatever you recommend.”
“You sure?”
“Mhm.” It was easier than deciding. Plus it meant he could stop staring at the prices with a guilty feeling.
“No allergies? No nothing?”
“Nothing, pick whatever. It all smells good, I'm sure it'll be good. Thank you Frank.”
“Ah don't mention it. Told you it was good here, didn't I?”
Peter smiled awkwardly. He was growing more nervous by the second. Frank wasn't a threat, his Spidey senses would've warned him otherwise. But this generosity made Peter's skin crawl. It felt undeserved. Stolen from someone who needed it more.
Frank ordered quietly, Peter only half listening. He was still staring out the window, enjoying watching the sunrise. Sure it was mainly obscured by the rows of buildings but it was still nice to watch the sky grow blue and the soft light bathe the surrounding buildings.
"Do you need anything for your face? Nasty looking bruise." Frank asked.
"Oh- no. It'll heal pretty quick."
Frank raised his eyebrows doubtingly but didn't press any further. "How'd it happen?"
Peter shrugged.
"You don't get a black eye like that and not know how it happened."
"Nothing important."
Frank frowned, staring intently at Peter. It made him feel strangely nervous, like Frank could see right through him. Sure his lies were obvious but it wasn't that. It was like Frank was looking into his soul, looking straight into the Peter buried beneath his bad jokes and avoidant tendencies. Being seen was an unnerving feeling.
"Someone giving you trouble?"
Peter shook his head. "So, come by here often?"
A clumsy deflection, but Frank seemed to take the hint. Peter wasn't about to give any explanations, there was no point digging for them.
"Eh, not as often as I'd like. Never enough time."
Peter nearly scoffed. Story of his life. No matter how hard he worked he was always running late, running out of hours in the day. Instead he nodded, nervously playing with a sugar packet. The silence between them rapidly grew awkward, at least for Peter. Frank seemed unbothered by it. For Peter it was torturous. He talked the same way other people breathed. Turns out conversation is more difficult when you're keeping everything about yourself secret.
Mercifully the waitress, Cheryl according to her wonky name badge, returned with a large pot of coffee and mugs. "Here you go boys, the food won't be long."
"Thanks." Peter replied. Frank had already busied himself with pouring them both a cup, pushing one towards Peter.
"The food's delicious, but the coffee's shit. At least it's warm."
"Yeah? It smells alright." Said Peter, taking a sip. It was not alright. It was disgusting. It was up there for some of the worst coffee he'd had to date, the flavour a perfect mix between burnt coffee beans and watery dirt. He must've pulled a face because Frank sniggered.
"It'll go down a little easier when you've got some food with it. All the drinks here are different kinds of terrible."
Peter wiped his mouth, chugging some water to try to get rid of the lingering aftertaste. "Nice and warm at least."
"That's the spirit." Nodded Frank.
Frank wasn't lying. It was better with food. And the food was delicious. Crisp, buttery toast. Perfectly scrambled eggs. Fried tomato. A frankly ridiculous amount of bacon. Sausages, beans, hashbrowns. At first he had almost doubted he'd get through it all, his stomach still aching miserably. But he was halfway through his food and showed no signs of stopping. It was the best meal he'd had in a long time. Convenience store sandwiches weren't exactly tasty.
They didn't talk much as they ate. Frank would occasionally comment on the food and Peter would nod emphatically, or offer up another thank you. Peter was far too hungry to do much more, and the silence felt less awkward now. By the time they'd cleaned off their plates, the pot of coffee was half empty and the city had fully woken up. The diner was getting busier too, the hum of overlapping conversations drowning out the quiet music.
Frank paid, dismissing Peters repeated thank you's and apologies with a wave of his hand.
"Don't worry about it kid. Was nice to have company."
The two stepped out into the cold street. It was getting busier now, and slightly warmer. Peter had begun pulling off the jacket when Frank spoke.
"Keep it. Looks better on you than it does on me."
"No- I can't take your jacket-"
"I've got too many anyway. Now, if you want a hot meal you can just come back here okay? They'll give you one, on the house."
"I-"
Frank shushed him. "How old are you anyway kid? 19, 20?"
"21."
"Too young to be dealing with this crap. No one should but-" Frank shook his head, watching him sadly. Peter couldn't shake the feeling that Frank wasn't looking at him anymore. He was seeing someone else. Maybe someone he'd lost, if the sad expression on his face was any indication.
"Point is Peter- you keep that jacket, and you come in here when it gets cold or you get hungry okay? They can point you in the direction of a good shelter or something okay?"
Peter nodded, hating the way tears were welling up in his eyes. He didn't need this kinda help. He didn't need help full stop, he was Spiderman for crying out loud. Still, it meant a lot to see that someone did care about the people who needed a hand.
"Awh kid don't be like that-" Frank pulled him into a gentle, albeit awkward, hug. Frank didn't really seem like a hugger, but the simple touch was enough to make Peter choke up with tears.
Frank pulled back, holding Peter's arms gently. "I'll see you around Peter."
It wasn't until Peter got home that he realised Frank had slipped a $20 note into the pocket of the jacket. A $20 more that definitely hadn't been there earlier. As if Frank hadn't already done enough.
It was just so kind. Far beyond what he needed to do. It stuck with Peter. A reminder of the people he was working for, the people he was trying so hard to protect. A reminder of just how kind people could be. It was exactly what he needed, and helped him sleep just a bit easier that night. He kept the jacket hanging on the back of his chair. It was warmer than any jacket he owned. And beyond that, it was nice to have a reminder of that morning spent with Frank. Warning up, eating good food, being cared for by a stranger after one of the toughest nights he'd had in a while. It gave Peter some hope, remembering Frank's kind eyes and gentle hands.
Which is why it was so shocking to see Frank, kind, jacket giving, food buying Frank, kill a man.