Work Text:
Here's the thing.
Usually, after huge missions or big battles as Spider-man, Peter would simply crash for a few days. He'd grab as much food as he could with the money he could scrape together, eat half of it, plop into bed, and sleep well into the morning multiple days in a row. All to let himself heal up and recover. Easy enough.
Except, today, after swinging by (not literally this time, surprisingly) a local deli to grab a dozen sandwiches yesterday, having come home from the hospital, and just passing out in his crummy bed, he didnt wake up to the usual sight of his leaky roof. Far from it, actually.
Peter groaned, blinking his eyes open the best he could, eyes crusted together from sleep, and his body still urging him to curl back up and continue resting. Until, that is, he noticed he was definitely not in his apartment. Unless his apartment had suddenly turned into a huge warehouse by the docks, it seemed he had moved locations while he was asleep.
When he finally came to that conclusion, Peter forced himself awake much faster, sitting up, and— now he was looking at the floor. Straight ahead. That would mean the roof was right behind him, if he wasnt just hallucinating again. He turned his head around to see, sure enough, there was a roof and a bunch of corroding metal beams right behind him. And, much more noticably, a web. Right by where he was sitting, stretching up and around the corner.
That isn't concerning at all.
Taking a breath, Peter gathered his thoughts. He was in an old warehouse. Near the docks, if what he was smelling was right, full of old submarines, ships, and parts. The only one he frequented, if he could call occasional visits that, was—
"The hell you doin' up there, Pete?" Frank Castle called up from one of the catwalks, dressed in the most casual clothing Peter has ever seen him in, topped with a red robe that was so faded it was more pink than anything. Surprising and amusing at the same time.
"Uh… sleeping?" Peter tried with a shrug, turning to latch onto the wall so he could climb down.
Frank gave him an odd look, nose wrinkling slightly. "Here?" He huffed. "—Is that a web up there, bug?"
"Arachnid," Peter corrected automatically, hopping down to land beside Frank. He followed the other man's eyes up to the corner of the roof, blinking slowly. "It seems it is. Sorry about that."
Letting out a long suffering sigh, Frank rested a hand on Peter's shoulder for a moment. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Just come in, have some coffee," He nodded towards the back of the old ship he had made into his living area. "You really shouldn't be swingin' around, straining your back like that so quick. You need to take it easy, webs. Even with your healing magic shit, you're still injured."
Peter followed Frank into the little kitchen area, plopping down on a chair behind the table with a shrug as Frank began pouring two cups of coffee. "I was planning on it," He grumbled quietly.
"Don't seem like you followed through very well," Frank teased gruffly, setting one of the cups down in front of Peter.
Giving Frank a look, Peter dragged the mug closer, sticking half of his face in the warm steam to warm his nose. "Yeah, well, I'm not exactly sure how I got here, so it's not my fault."
Frank paused mid-sip, raising an eyebrow high and lowering his own cup. "The hell do you mean by that? You live a couple miles away, you can't just end up here." He said the last part a bit mockingly, waving a hand around for emphasis.
Huffing into his cup, Peter took a large sip. "Yeah, well, I did, so— yeah," He muttered. He didn't really have an expliantion, so there was no point in trying to make up one. Either way, he felt much too tired to try actually thinking about anything he didn't have to right now.
Frank looked on flatly.
"I'm too tired for this, Frank," Peter scooted his mug out from under him, getting up from his seat. "You care if I crash on that spare couch-bed-thing back in the other room again?"
Leaning back against the counter, Frank shook his head to himself for a moment, before dismissing his own thoughts with a shrug. "Sure, kid. Don't make a mess with your webs in there, though. No more freaky spider shit without warning me. You're gonna give me a heart attack."
Peter snorted a dumb laugh. "No promises," He gave a half-wave, disappearing back into the little room.
He was asleep within a couple minutes.
"Motherfucker—!!"
Peter jolted awake groggily, hands up in fists, looking around in a state of panic. "Wh— what? What's goin' on?"
"What's goin' on— fucking— says you—" Frank muttered from somewhere to Peter's right, accompanied by the random sound of a broom smacking something solid. "I told you to warn me about any more spidery things you might do, but no, you'll cover the whole doorway with webs while I'm out, and take another fucking nap without cleaning up—"
"Frank—! Frank, I don't know what you're talking about. I've been sleeping—" Peter paused, taking in his location. He was not on the old couch-bed. He was on the ceiling, in a web nest. again. "…on the ceiling..?"
"Fuck you mean 'on the—' " Frank started as he pushed through the door, stopping himself when he didn't see Peter on the couch. Slowly, he looked up, mouth slightly open. "Hell you doing up there, kid?"
"I—I don't know! I just woke up here…. Again," Peter sputtered, letting his hands drift onto his head with a small groan, knocking his head agains the ceiling.
Frank rubbed his face roughly, muttering something under his breath that sounded like utter gibberish with the occasional curse. Grunting, he turned grumpily to the doorway again, scooping up the web and starting to clean up some of the rest of the web-y mess around the room. Though, he was pointedly avoiding Peter's little nest area.
Peter himself huffed in tandem with Frank, but also seemed to curl up deeper into the corner of the ceiling, despite telling himself he should probably help. His dumb spider senses were being weird, and somehow telling him things like, 'dark — safe — rest rest rest'.
Now that he thinks about it, his spidey sense had never done anything but alert him to danger until now. It's like it has grown a mind of it's own, at this point.
And… his spider sense felt annoyed now. As if this couldn't get any weirder, now it can hear his thoughts—?
'sleep.'
Peter jumped slightly, startling and looking around in a hurry to try and find who said that. Oh, goodness— was it—
'angry man safe— tired — sleep sleeeep'
"Kid?"
Peter huffed quietly, his eyes already drifitng shut. Maybe the weird spider-sense-voice was right. He was tired, so he should sleep. Right by the corner.
"Gue— th— tle insect— 's sleepy."
Only a few of Frank's words made it through to Peter's brain as he curled up on the ceiling, tucked in the corner.
"G— ight, Pe—"
And if Peter made odd clicking sounds in his sleep, Frank had nobody to tell. Who would believe him?