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Peter has never really had a lot of people in his life. Even before the whole forgetting spell thing happened, there has always been just a couple of people he could confide in.
He knew he asked for the spell. He knew this was all his fault. He knew he should've been more careful.
And yet he desperately missed social interactions.
MJ said she doesn't love him and really, a part of him wasn't expecting her to. Not again. He was lucky enough to earn her affection once but miracles don't come in twos.
He's established a steady rhythm of saving the city and working on more ways to save the city over the years. But now, everything has come tumbling down.
All of the recent events—Jean Grey, MJ, Ned, you name it—have put a dent into his daily routine even though he doesn't want to admit it. He actually feels tired. He knows he has been tired, he's just managed to ignore it. To ignore the pain he's been feeling for the past couple years, physical and emotional.
He's been so alone.
And then, suddenly, he wasn't anymore.
Sure, Frank shooting him wasn't up there in the top 5 of his most pleasant moments, but it'd brought a new... friend? Would Frank call him that? Maybe acquaintances would work.
Anyways, the point is—he has someone now.
Frank and him have actually been kind of hanging out lately. They don't talk about the accident. Peter doesn't talk about MJ and Frank doesn't ask. Frank doesn't talk about his family and Peter doesn't ask. That's just how they work.
"I was wondering," Peter starts one evening, sitting on Frank's sofa. "Would you maybe watch a movie with me?"
Frank raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry, it's just that it's been ages since I've watched a movie with someone and–and I also haven't really had time to watch them on my own, so there's a lot of them that I've missed, which is a shame 'cause, y'know, I really like them and—"
"Peter. You're rambling."
"Sorry."
Frank sits next to Peter on the couch and Peter instinctively moves a bit more to the side to give him space.
"What do you wanna watch?"
"Oh, um," he hasn't actually thought that far ahead. He wasn't expecting Frank to agree, so it didn't seem important. "I don't know. Do you have, like, a favorite movie or something?"
Frank thought for a bit. "Nah, not really."
"Oh, okay. Um," damn him and his awful social skills.
The older man chuckled. "I'll just put something on, okay? Don't stress."
Peter nodded and sagged back against the couch. He watched Frank work the DVD player and smiled fondly because of course Frank would still be using DVDs. Peter found it... endearing.
There was a bunch of stuff about Frank that Peter found endearing but he didn't wish to unpack all of that. He has something like a friend now, he's not gonna go ruining it for something as dumb as feelings.
Frank sits back next to him and Peter is out cold before he knows it. Part of him feels bad because he promised watching the movie with the other man, but at the same time he's never slept so peacefully. He made sure to be leaning away from Frank so that he wouldn't fall on him were he to fall asleep.
When he wakes up, he's covered by a blanket and—well, he's positive there was no blanket on him before he fell asleep.
"Frank?" he calls out weakly, voice still laced by sleep.
"Morning," Frank is still sitting on the couch next to Peter, looking down at him.
Peter smiles. "Hey," he reaches out, trying to get a hold of Frank's hand. Stupid, sleep-induced mistake. He pulls his hand back. "Sorry."
He knows touching the guy is a big no-go. He's made that more than clear over the time they've known each other.
"Peter."
"Yeah?"
"Are you doin' alright?"
Peter sits up at that. "Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?"
Then, Frank's hand is on his knee and Peter's mind short-circuits.
"You don't seem alright."
"I'm alright."
"Peter."
"Frank."
Frank sighs, pulls his hand back, and Peter immediately misses its weight on his leg. "I... care about you," the older man is looking everywhere but at him. "I know I'm not the best person for you to be, uh, pals with but... I want you to know that I'm here for you, okay?"
Peter realizes he's crying only when Frank looks over at him and says "Ah, shit—I didn't mean to—"
"No! No, it's okay! Sorry, I don't know why I'm crying," he wipes at his eyes and when he looks, really looks at Frank, he sees a concerned, soft look in his eyes which are kind of glossy before Frank looks away.
Peter's eyes widen and he decides to be just a bit selfish and places his hand on Frank's cheek to gently guide his face back to his own. "Hey," he whispers. "You didn't do anything wrong, Frank."
The older man gives a short, self-deprecating laugh. "I shot you."
"What? Is that what this is about?"
Frank still doesn't meet his eyes but Peter can feel him leaning into his touch. Has Peter read him wrong? Does he miss physical touch as much as Peter does?
"I don't blame you, Frank. I know you thought you were doing the right thing. I decided to jump in front of the bullet. You couldn't have known. It's not your fault, okay?"
Frank swallows, sniffles and nods. He closes his eyes, places his hand over Peter's on his cheek and leans into it.
Peter's heart skips a beat and as a surge of bravery rushes through him, he swings a leg across Frank's lap, straddling his thighs. "This okay?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Frank breathes heavily and nods, finally looking at Peter. His own hands settle on Peter's thighs, hardly touching.
Peter holds Frank's other cheek as well and just looks at him. He can see all the pain he's been through in his eyes, in his wrinkles, in the crease of his brows. He smooths a finger over the bridge of Frank's nose and across his cheeks.
Frank sighs. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall onto Peter's chest.
Peter's body tingles everywhere it's making contact with Frank's and when Frank wraps his arms around his waist, Peter shudders.
He hasn't been held in so long and it seems like neither has Frank. He's shaking all over and the other man pulls back, concern written all over his face.
"Sorry," Peter says. "It's just... been a while," he gives him a sad smile.
"Yeah, uh, me too."
Peter looks at him. A wide smile spreads across his lips and he chuckles.
The older man smiles back. "What?"
Peter drops his head onto Frank's shoulder and keeps laughing. "We're both so broken."
Frank lets out a laugh of his own and pulls Peter back to look at him. His eyes fall to Peter's mouth for a second and he licks his lips. "Peter, I..."
Before he can say anything else, the younger man presses their mouths together. It's light and quick and leaves Frank speechless when Peter pulls back.
Peter's eyes search his, silently asking if he's okay with it. Frank responds by kissing him back. They don't rush. Their kisses are slow and deep and almost... loving. Peter wouldn't go as far as to assume Frank loves him, but there's something for sure.
Frank's hands are everywhere; caressing Peter's hair, rubbing his back, twining their fingers together. Peter doesn't understand how these gentle hands are capable of killing in such gruesome ways.
Frank pulls back and rests his forehead against Peter's. "Do you want to um... stay the night?"
The younger man pulls back a bit. "Oh. Um, I don't think I'm... ready for that, I—"
"Just to sleep. I don't wanna take that step with you just yet," he kisses Peter's hand. "I don't wanna fuck this up."
Peter bites his lip and smiles. "Then I'd love to."