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The video opens on Peter's back.
For a few seconds, the camera followed him around Frank’s living room, wobbling with every step Frank took. The image dipped toward the carpet, came back up, then zoomed in far too close on Peter’s shoulder.
Peter muttered to himself, apparently unaware he was being recorded. Frank made a noise behind the camera, amused at his one person conversation. Peter kept moving, reaching across the coffee table for something.
“Hey,” Frank said. Peter stops. “Look at that. It’s the birthday boy.” Peter turns his head toward the phone for the first time. His eyebrows lifted, the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile as he looked from the camera to Frank.
“What are you doing?”
“Recording.”
Peter gave him a look. “Why?”
Frank shrugged, though Peter could only see the movement of his shoulder behind the phone that was held directly upto his face. Old man. “Making memories. You told me you like having photos or whatever.”
Peter’s expression softened for a second. He’d said that before, only once. Frank remembers those small things. His phone was full of videos. Stupid little clips he’d taken without thinking about it. People talking. Friends laughing. Places he’d been. Things he wanted to remember.
After the spell, he’d started holding onto them even tighter.
MJ and Ned had forgotten him. Completely. Their lives had kept moving, and Peter had been left with photographs, messages, old videos, scraps of proof that those years had happened.
He couldn't make them remember.
But he could remember.
And Peter had already lost enough things in his life without volunteering to lose more.
Frank knew that part.He didn't say anything about it.
He steps closer, the camera suddenly zoomed in,
Peter's face filling the screen. He blinks, watching as Frank tried adjusting the zoom. It got worse.
“Jesus,” Peter said, laughing. Frank pulled the phone back.
“Hold still.”
“I am holding still.”
“You're moving.”
“I'm literally standing here.”
Frank moved closer anyway. The top of Peter's head disappeared from the frame. “Frank, you're–” The frame slipped upward, cutting Peter's head completely out of the shot. “C’mon,” Frank said. “Tell future you how old you're getting.” The phone dipped. Peter's face came back into view. He was already laughing.
“Future me?”
“Or whoever finds this thing.”
Peter shook his head. “You're making a birthday video?”
“Wow, kid, you're great at catching on. Can you also add two and two?”
The phone dipped back down. Peter was rubbing his forehead, trying not to laugh at Frank's sly comment.
“I don't know, Frank, can you hold the camera like you're a millennial and not in your fifties?”
“Yeah, yeah. Smartass. Tell the camera how many steps into the grave you've got.”
Frank steadied the phone as best he could. Peter glanced at him, then at the camera. He was still smiling. “Fine.” He stepped closer, leaning toward the lens until his face filled most of the frame. His eyes flicked between the camera and Frank, like he still wasn't quite sure what Frank expected him to do.
“I'm turning twenty-three.”
Frank gave an approving hum. “Twenty-three.”
Peter nodded. “Yep.”
Frank lowered the phone slightly. “Twenty-three hits in the head for twenty-three years.” Peter's smile disappeared. He stared at Frank. “Don't.” Frank reached out. Peter immediately backed up, laughing as he tried to get away. “No, no, no—” Frank caught him by the back of the head. “Frank!” He ruffled Peter's hair hard enough to send it sticking up in every direction, then hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him into a loose headlock.
Peter's hands immediately came up, grabbing at Frank's forearm as he twisted around in an attempt to escape.
“That's not how birthdays work!”
“Sure it is.”
“You're a dick!”
“Twenty-three.”
“Frank!”
The camera was now pointed at Frank's chest, catching only half of Peter's face underneath his arm. Peter was laughing too hard to sound genuinely annoyed. Frank gave him a couple of exaggerated little taps against the side of his head with his free hand.
“That's two."
Peter put up a fake struggle like he couldn't snap Frank's arm in half if he wanted.
Frank taps his head again. “Three.”
“Frank!”
The phone shook violently with Frank's laughter. Peter finally ducked out from under his arm, stumbling a step sideways and fixing his hair with both hands.
“You suck.”
“Happy birthday, kid.”
"Thanks."
Peter's phone screen went black for a second before playing again. He was sitting on the couch at Ned and MJ's apartment, one leg tucked beneath him, phone held loosely in both hands as he watched the recording again. He paused it when it got to Peter holding the phone, Frank in frame. He sat there for another second, staring at the frozen screen. A stupid, helpless grin on his face that he didn't even notice he'd gotten until—
“What are you watching?”
Peter jumped.
He nearly dropped his phone between the cushions. “Jesus—” MJ was leaning over the back of the couch, looking down at him. Peter caught the phone against his thigh and held it to his chest. “How long have you been standing there?” MJ shrugged. “Like a minute.” Peter narrowed his eyes.
“I figured the spider tingle thing would've kicked in.”
“Spider-Sense.”
“Whatever.”
“It only tells me when something's dangerous.”
MJ looked at him. "Maybe the snacks I brought back masked my danger levels." She smiled faintly, disappearing around the couch. Peter watched her for a second before looking back down at his phone to close it. She had just come back from the store, carrying two bags against her hip. She set them on the counter and started pulling things out. Chips, drinks, one of those shark energy things that she already replaced with juice inside the little bottle.
After a moment, she tossed Peter a drink without looking. He caught it. “Thanks.” MJ glanced over. “So that was you and Frank?” Peter looked down at the bottle in his hand. “Uh– yeah.”
“I heard something about a birthday.”
“Yeah. Couple weeks ago."
MJ nodded as she walks to the couch to sit down. Peter looked back at his phone. “I was just rewatching it.” There was a tiny pause. “Frank is nice, he just doesn't normally do stuff like that, yknow?" Peter looked up, trying to explain himself without being questioned. MJ was smiling at him. Not making fun of him, just smiling. Still he feels a bit under pressure by it. “I think it's cute.” Peter blinked. “Cute?” MJ's eyebrows went up. “Well– not cute. Not calling you cute. I mean—” Peter waited. “You guys are cute.”
Peter stared at her, still not following.
“...What?”
“Together. You guys are cute together.”
Peter's mouth opened, then closed. MJ grabbed the remote like she hadn't just dropped that into Peter's lap. “I mean—I'm glad you have someone you can go home to.” Peter's expression changed. “Oh.” It clicked. “Oh, you think—” He laughed awkwardly, looking back to his phone to keep his hands busy where he wanted to chew his nails or rub his skin raw from fidgeting.
"No, we're not—”
MJ looked over. “Peter, I don't care.”
“I know, I just—”
“I mean, if you guys are together, that's fine. I don't have a problem with it. Even if I did, it's really not my issue to have." She continues after a pause that Peter didn't fill. “I don't care that he's older, or that you're...” She gestures vaguely. Peter blinked. “Gay?”
“Yeah.”
"I'm not–”
He stopped. MJ looked at him. "I'm not, not gay. But—" He pointed vaguely toward the phone. “We're not together.” MJ's expression went still. Then her eyebrows slowly rose. “Oh.” Peter waited. She looked at him for a second longer. “So you haven't asked him out yet.” Peter stared. “What?”
“Didn't think Spider-Man would be scared of a date.”
“I'm not scared of a date.”
“Okay.”
“I just– Frank and I aren't—”
Peter stopped again. Because now he was actually thinking about it. A date. With Frank. The thought rooted itself somewhere in his brain and refused to leave. MJ watched his face. Peter looked away. “It's not like that.” She just looks at him, face unchanging. In her silence, Peter feels the need to fill the void. “It isn't.” She gives one slow nod, pursing her lips for a moment. It doesn't read as sarcasm, but rather accepting that Peter wants her to believe that. “I mean, we're friends.”
MJ nods again. “Friends.”
“Yeah.”
“Who spend a lot of time together.”
Peter opened his mouth. Closed it. “That's—"
The bathroom door opened. Ned walked out, drying his hands on the front of his shirt. “Oh awesome, you're back!" He gestures for his shark drink, getting a sigh before she points to the kitchen area. He goes and looks for it, taking a sip before turning back to them. "What are you guys talking about?” MJ pointed at Peter. “Peter has a crush on the Punisher.” Ned stopped dead, eyes widened as they flashed toward Peter. “Wait.”
Peter's head snapped toward him. “No.”
“The Punisher?”
“No.”
“Frank Castle?”
“That's not—”
Ned's face lit up. “Dude.”
Peter sank lower into the couch. “Please don't.” Anything to do with Spider-Man and not just Peter usually got Ned going.
“I knew it!”
“Wha— knew what?”
“I knew something was going on!”
“Nothing is going on!”
Ned looked between Peter and MJ. “That's actually kind of awesome.”
Peter stared at him. "Why?”
“Because—” Ned gestured helplessly. “It's the Punisher.”
“That's not an explanation.”
“Ned has written a lot about this.” MJ provides, leaving Ned to give an exasperated look paired with a whisper-yelled "dude!"
Peter paused. “You've...written about what?” Ned faltered. “Uh.” MJ answered for him. “He's written fanfiction.” Peter slowly turned toward Ned. “It's more like theories.” He tried. MJ leaned back against the couch. “Yeah. Theories about Spider-Man having an orgy with the Hand.” Peter's entire face changed, eyes wide as he looks between them. “You're the one who wrote that?!" Ned winced. “Well I didn't think Spider-Man himself would ever actually see!” Peter stared at him in absolute disbelief.
“Why would you even—”
“I had evidence!”
“You had what?”
MJ started laughing. Ned pointed at her. “Don't encourage him.”
“You wrote it.”
“It was a theory!”
“It had chapters!” Peter covers his face with his hands.
Ned sits down opposite Peter, putting his hands out in defense. "Listen, that was so long ago, okay? I'm a changed man!" He sits back, watching Peter uncover his face. There's a moment of pause before he talks again. "So...why do you have a crush on the punisher?" Peter is about to open his mouth to deny again when MJ cuts in. "He was watching some video of them together. I'm kind of nosey, so I saw some of it." She shrugs. "If he's not in love, Frank definitely is. Its the look." She gestures to her eyes, then looks back at Peter who still has that stupid baffled look on his face. "Frank doesn't— I don't think he likes anyone honestly. And how would you get any of that from one video?" It's MJ's turn to look baffld. "What do you consider liking someone then?" She shakes her head. "I'm not gonna try and convince you of anything, Peter. I'm just saying you should maybe look a little closer at what you have. It's not just the video." Ned nods in agreement, "Yeah, you don't know until you try. I could even help you ask him out. I mean, not to brag, but I'm pretty good at raking in the ladies." Peter huffs a laugh. "Frank isn't really a lady and– thanks, but again, I don't like him like that so I don't need the help. We're just friends. I'm good with just friends."
Peter was realizing pretty quickly that maybe he wasn't as good with just friends as he'd thought.
He left Ned and MJ's a few hours later with his mask stuffed into the pocket of his shorts, figuring he'd swing home once he was far enough away that nobody would question a guy suddenly disappearing off the sidewalk.
He could've gotten home in minutes. Instead, he kept doing laps around Queens.
He needed the time to think. Somewhere that wasn't his shitty apartment, where the walls were too thin and there was always something that needed fixing. Somewhere he could hear traffic rolling past, people talking as they walked by, the city carrying on around him. Somewhere he could be around people without having to be Peter Parker for any of them. MJ's words kept circling back.
You haven't asked him out yet.
Peter frowned to himself. That was ridiculous. Wasn't it?
He didn't understand why she'd been so sure. Or why she'd looked at him like she'd figured something out that he hadn't. Had Frank said something to her? No. Absolutely not.
Frank barely wanted MJ around in the first place. The idea of him sitting down with her and confessing anything about Peter was absurd. Especially anything resembling feelings for a twenty-three-year-old who, as Frank had reminded him plenty of times, was still a kid. So what had MJ seen?
Peter shoved a hand into his pocket to grab his phone as he landed on a rooftop.
He'd thought about Frank. Obviously he'd thought about Frank. Frank was...Frank. Peter liked being around him. He liked when Frank let his guard down enough to joke with him. He liked the way Frank looked at him when Peter got excited about something, even when he pretended he wasn't listening. He liked the way the bickered and poked fun at eachother. And, yeah, maybe he'd noticed Frank was attractive. That didn't mean anything. Probably.
Peter had spent enough time thinking about it that the word probably was starting to feel like a problem.
The thing was, whatever he felt for Frank didn't feel like what he'd felt for MJ.
Peter knew what it was like to look at someone and want them to choose him. He'd had that once. He'd lost it. He'd gotten it back in a different form, only to lose the version of it he'd actually wanted again. Frank didn't feel like that. Frank felt—
Peter stared down at his phone, then across the street as a bus rumbled past, its headlights sweeping over the pavement.
What does Frank feel like?
He didn't have an answer. That bothered him more than it should have.
MJ had said she could see it.
If he's not in love, Frank definitely is. It's the look.
Peter replayed the way Frank had looked through the camera in that birthday video. The smile in his voice. The way he'd followed Peter around the room just to annoy him. The way he'd grabbed him when Peter said twenty-three, laughing while Peter tried to escape.
His mouth twitched.
Maybe Frank just liked him. That was normal. Friends liked each other.
Friends made birthday videos and kept old photos. Friends worried when the other person didn't come home. Friends remembered the little things.
Friends didn't—
Peter stopped again. He looked down at his phone. His thumb hovered over the screen. He could watch the video again. He absolutely should not watch the video again. He pressed play. Frank's voice came through the speaker.
"Hey. Look at that. It's the birthday boy.”
Peter smiled despite himself. Then came the part where Frank caught him, ruffled his hair, and dragged him into a headlock. Peter paused the video. His smile slowly faded. MJ's voice came back to him.
You should maybe look a little closer at what you have.
Peter stared at Frank's frozen face on the screen.
“How can you know?” he muttered.
A couple walking past the building he was perched on leaned into eachother as they talked and laughed.
Peter lowered the phone. “How can somebody else know you're in love before you do?”
He immediately grimaced.
“Okay. Wow.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket. “That's a really big word.” Peter swung off the building again. But the question followed him all the way home. Up the elevator, to his floor, and only briefly stopping when he read the bold printed words on the yellow slip of paper taped to his doorway:
Vacate Order.