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Ever since Peter got out of the hospital, and ever since Frank Castle found out Peter Parker was Spider-Man, they were practically inseparable. Though, they’d never acknowledge that.
Most nights after they were both out patrolling and doing whatever they did, Peter would go home, get changed, and end up crashing at Frank’s shitty boathouse.
Frank usually made them food, if not, he made Peter pick something up on the way. They’d talk, watch something, and then Frank would go off to his room, and Peter would either sleep on the couch, or the bunk.
The usual routine in the morning was that Frank would wake up to an annoying amount of noise, and he’d crawl out of bed to find Peter with his suit slipped on and ready to hurry out of the boathouse. Sometimes Peter lingered, or was even just coming back from some place in the city with breakfast for him and Frank.
Like Frank had said, he’s a good kid.
Though, this morning was particularly quiet. Far too quiet. Frank didn’t usually wake up on his own, it was usually Peter and his noisy shenanigans but today Frank didn’t wake up to the smell of food, or the stumbling around. It was silent.
The boathouse had been colder, winter had approached and Frank didn’t really have or care for heaters.
Frank cautiously made his way out of his room. He was sure Peter had come over last night, he remembered clowning the kid for wearing a shit load of layers. It wasn’t that cold out.
Frank had reached the tiny, cramped kitchen area. Peter’s laptop was sitting neatly on the table, and one of the many hoodies he brought was slumped over the couch.
Frank stood with alarm in the kitchenette, thinking of the possibilities;
Maybe Peter left earlier. No, he didn’t. Couldn’t have, Frank would’ve woken up.
Maybe the kid is just horsing around. That’s a very possible possibility. But, then again, at this point (if it were a joke), it’s unfunny and being dragged.
Frank sighed to himself, mumbling something incoherent before approaching the room with the bunk. Once he entered the room, he scanned over before his eyes landed on a lump curled up under a blanket.
And, shit, it was awfully cold in this room specifically.
“Hey, kid. You’re gonna be late for whatever shit you have to do today, whatever DeWolff’s got planned for ya’,” Frank roughly said, his mouth dry.
No reply. Frank stepped closer, peering closely over the bunk. He squinted, watching Peter’s sides.
Frank’s heart fucking dropped. He saw no rise and fall of Peter’s chest, didn’t even hear an ounce of breath.
“What the fuck? Hey, kid, wake up!” Frank started frantically shaking Peter, yet there was still no response, and the older man could feel the cold skin through Peter’s stupid sweater.
“Shit,” Frank looked around in a genuine panic. There’s no way Peter was actually dead, it had to be some sort of stupid spider quirk because of his new mutating bullshit.
Without a second thought, or third, Frank grabbed Peter from under the covers, and picked him up into his arms, grimacing a bit before evacuating the bunk room, and placing Peter onto the couch. Somewhere in between the process he checked for Peter’s pulse, found it, but it was worryingly subtle.
The kid was still cold, face unmoving, chest still not rising and falling like an alive person’s would.
Peter felt cold, and complained about being cold all night. Maybe Frank really did need heaters. For now, a fire would suffice.
Frank scooped a lighter out of his pocket, hurrying over to his small, pathetic fireplace, opening it and lighting it up. Wood had already been placed in it, he always had it on standby.
Frank watched as the fire crackled, and spread, before closing it shut and letting it get warm, while he waited her went back to Peter, toppled sloppily on the couch, body completely fucking limp.
There were small signs that Frank clung onto for reassurance. The twitch of his eyes, his foot, and the slight pulse he found earlier.
The main idea was just how the fuck and what the fuck he’s gonna do.
Frank wrapped Peter back up in a blanket, the kid felt like a damn ragdoll, flopping around with each movement. Once Frank finished tucking the blanket around him, he (basically) dragged him over to the floor in front of the fireplace.
And the only thing he could do at this point really was just… wait.
Frank probably ended up falling asleep, he doesn’t really remember, but he did wake up the moment he heard a small, strangled mutter.
Frank’s eyes shot wide, leaning forwards almost immediately and glaring down at Peter, taking note of the small jolt of his shoulder.
“Daffodil, hey,” Frank spat quickly, pushing himself up off the couch and crouching down towards Peter.
Peter squirmed slightly, bringing a hand to his head and gritting his teeth, “Jeez, Frank, when did it get so hot all of a sudden.’
Frank narrowed his eyes, “Great, does the heat got something to do with triggering one of your stupid fuckin’ spider quirks now?” Now knowing Peter was okay, Frank decided to be a bitch about it. Surprising, huh.
Peter groaned, rubbing his eyes and turning onto his back to face Frank, blinking his dry, crusty eyes open like it was painful.
“Oh, hey, Frank,” Peter murmured tiredly. His body looked stiff, like, uncomfortably stiff.
“You wanna tell me what the hell that was about? ‘Looked like you were fuckin’ dead in that bed. Could barely see your breaths.”
Peter groaned out something inaudible before sighing, “Can– Can I get like… a moment to defrost… or whatever it is,” Peter hummed with exhaustion.
Frank narrowed his eyes, curling his lip up in slight offense and an expressive version of the phrase: what the fuck.
“Defrost? No, nah, you’re gonna explain to me what this shit is all about.”
Peter huffed again, more stubbornly this time before sitting up while holding his lower back. His back made a cracking noise, and the pair both winced at the noise.
“It’s– It’s a spider… thing. Spider quirk, is that what you called it?” Peter started, chuckling at the small term Frank had said earlier. Frank was honestly surprised Peter was even paying attention at the time.
“Well… It’s not new– I’ve frozen up like this before. It’s only in the winters… Mr. Stark usually– helped me… and made sure I wouldn’t go into diapause. That’s the word for it,” Peter peeled the blanket off of him before Frank, snatched the blanket back and waved it right on top of Peter again.
Peter turned his head, glaring.
“Jesus, Daffodil I’m not gonna have you start fuckin’ hibernating in my safehouse, again.”
Peter gritted his teeth, “It’s not hibernating, it’s diapause I literally just said that.”
Frank rolled his eyes.
“But, uhm… usually happens to insects to protect themself from extreme cold but because I’m– part human mild cold is– too cold. So the spider in me freaks out, and puts me into a long sleep,” Peter hummed, still tired, but that energetic tone was still there.
“When Mr. Stark was around, he and I had done all the research and– he added all these cool heating systems into my suit… made a jacket to wear out in the winter while I wasn’t in the suit.”
Frank listened. It was interesting. It’s not a new thing from his new mutations, it was a previous thing and he hadn’t told Frank about it. Maybe Peter had it under control, just up until now. Frank felt the tiniest amount of guilt for shitting on Peter about his stupid amount of layers.
“And, you didn’t bother letting me know last night when you were whining your damn head off about the temperature?” Frank hissed.
“I wasn’t whining! I was– stating my observations,” Peter quickly countered.
“You were whining, kid,” Frank responded before standing up and walking towards the kitchenette, Peter still sat silently in front of the fire.
“The first time it happened,” Peter hummed, “It was Christmas break. I had left my window open in my room and I sat down on my beanbag. Aunt May was making dinner. I hadn’t even noticed when it happened, but I remember waking up, and it was nearly 24 hours since I had fallen asleep. I literally felt frozen, and all I saw was May, slapping my face to get me awake.”
Frank looked over his shoulder at Peter, making a small gruff sound in understanding, and a tiny signal that he’s listening.
“Since that day, Mr. Stark, Aunt May, and Happy made sure I was always warm in the winter, nothing less,” He paused, “These past few winters I had to make sure I wouldn’t get cold, on my own. To make sure I wouldn’t slip up, I had to be so incredibly sure. I was alone, there wouldn’t have been anyone to wake me up, or get me heat.”
A beat passed, and Peter spoke up again, “I guess I just felt comfortable enough to let it happen with you around Frank. It’s… nice not just having to depend on myself constantly.”
Frank stopped whatever he was doing, probably rummaging through random items in the kitchen to find anything to eat.
He glanced over at Peter, he had now opened the fire and started poking at it with a fireplace poker. He stared quietly for a moment, scoffing with a slight smirk.
“Yeah, kid. No worries.”
Ever since then, Frank made sure there was a heater in every possible room of his boathouse during the winter.