Work Text:
"You wanna tell me what the hell happened back there, boy?" Frank gritted out through bared teeth, all but shoving a swaying Spider-Man through the doors of the boat house.
It was supposed to be very simple, a drug bust should have been a cake walk for the duo. It was something they handled almost daily and were so familiar with that by now they practically moved on autopilot. Lead any innocents away from the scene, web up the dealer, shoot to maim if necessary (what could Frank say, Peter was making him soft), shut down the operation, prepare the evidence, and make like a bat out of hell before the cops arrive to clean up. Child's play.
But Peter messed it up for them. He was more out of it than Frank had ever seen him, standing there staring into nothingness as the elder vigilante did all the work. It was so unlike the spider that Frank felt distracted himself, mind only focused on what the hell was going on with the boy. By the grace of God that had managed to take down the meth lab, but only barely and with absolutely no thanks to the arachnid— who Frank had to practically carry back to the boat house.
Peter, who just stood there, seemingly ignoring Frank's chastising question as he swayed back and forth on his feet like he did down at the lab.
"You fuckin ignoring me now?" Heavy feet stomped towards Peter. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"
Peter just shrugged, voice weak and quiet as he spoke, yanking off his mask with a shaky hand. "'M fine."
Frank was about to push back, start up another one of their exhausting back and forths… but almost all anger melted away from Frank when he got a good look at Peter's absolutely not fine face. His skin was ghostly white and clammy, brown eyes completely glazed over. It felt like he wasn't looking at Frank, but instead looking through him.
His voice was already softer as he approached the young adult, "You're not lookin too hot… did you get some meth in your system or something?" There wasn't a hint of a joke in Frank's tone, nothing but genuine concern for the trembling hero in front of him.
"'M okay, I promise." Peter's voice was barely a whisper, not doing a very good job of convincing the man in front of him— the man who was pressing two fingers against the pulse point in his neck with a force harsh enough to leave a bruise. Not that Frank wanted to, in fact his chest tightened a bit when the younger man groaned at his touch, it's just gentleness wasn't something that came too naturally to him anymore, especially when he was in any kind of a panic.
"Christ, your heart is beating too fast. 160 beats per minute easily. We gotta get you help."
"No… no 'm… 'm fine." Peter repeated once again, easing himself down into the booth of the kitchen table. "This is just… somethin that happens. Been happenin since the bite, but it's been a bit more since the whole…" He vaguely gestures over his body. "Y'know."
Frank felt some frustration return to him, not enough to eclipse his worry but enough for his voice to have some bite back in it. "So you know this is somethin that happens to you, meanin you must have had some idea of what was goin on, and you still went out there?"
"What was I supposed to do Frank?!" Peter's voice was raised, feeling his heart rate dangerously increase even more. "People were… people were gonna…"
His eyes started to dangerously flutter, eyes flashing black for a brief moment as reality became less tangible around him. He thought he heard Frank trying to say something to him, but it all just felt too far away. The last thing he registered before it all went black was falling forward out of the booth, and a set of strong arms catching him before he hit the floor.
When Peter's eyes blink open again, he's in a new location. He feels a firm mattress underneath him, and for a moment he feels himself panic as jolts up and looks around.
"Woah woah woah, hey!" He whips his head towards the sound, deflating when he sees his friend sat across from him in some kind of arm chair, computer in his lap. "It's just me, bug. You're okay. Just set you up in my bed, you passed out on me. Nice to see you finally awake."
Peter feels his face heat up slightly, apologizing in a soft voice. "Sorry."
"It's fine." Frank's voice was a little tight, and he hoped Peter wouldn't misinterpret that as annoyance with him— he just felt a little awkward about all this mushy gushy shit.
Lucky for him, Peter was still too out of it to really notice. "How long was I out?"
"Bout 30 minutes. I was starting to worry. You usually out that long?"
"No… must have needed the sleep."
"No fuckin kidding."
The two sat in silence for a couple minutes as the younger vigilante returned to his senses, still feeling dizzy and lightheaded. He figured he was still tachycardic, since it takes a bit to get his heart rate down during an episode. It was Frank who broke the silence, with a harsh clear of the throat.
"I uh… I googled what was goin on with ya. It sounds like some long bullshit medical name, so I'm just gonna call it POTS."
A smile danced on Peter's face. "You googled my symptoms?"
"Had to, daffodil." Frank attempted to deflect, ever allergic to emotion. "Needed to know what was goin on if you're gonna keep passin out on me. Says you need salt or somethin?"
"Yeah, it helps raise my blood volume. It works."
"Alright then." Frank shot to his feet, pulling something from his pocket. "Open wide, time for your medicine!"
As Frank strutted over to him, Peter could see what Frank was holding in his hand. A salt shaker.
"No, no no God no!" He squirmed, trying to get away from the older man. "Salt shots are so gross!"
"Shoulda thought of that before goin into the field during an episode! Now open up."
Peter's face scrunched up, as if he were a toddler being given broccoli. Frank just grabbed his chin, forcing his jaw to open as he sprinkled some salt on his tongue. "Stop bein a wuss, Parker! It's just some salt."
His face scrunched up again, coughing as he swallowed it down. "It's disgusting!"
"It's helpful! You said yourself!"
"God, since when did you care about me like this?" Peter's voice had a playfulness to it despite the cough, teasing the older man who slumped back down into the chair across from the bed.
"I dunno, kinda weirded out myself. You're like a puppy or somethin, nobody can dislike ya."
Peter just giggled a bit, tossing his head back on the cheap pillow. He was about to retort, but his phone went off before he had the chance, his police scanner. "ROBBERY IN PROGRESS. JEWELRY STORE ON 5TH. ALL UNITS REQUIRED, PERP IS ARMED."
Peter moved to get out of bed and suit back up, only to feel a familiar hand push him back down. "What do you think your doin, bug?"
He looked at Frank with a dumbfounded expression, feeling his plan should be obvious. "Reporting to the rob—"
"Nope. You're stayin right here." He was given a gentle shove into the bed for emphasis before Frank moved to suit up himself. "I'll handle it."
"C'mon, Frank, let me—"
"You clearly haven't been restin! You need to stay down for a bit, let the salt work it's magic or somethin. I'm benchin you."
That sent annoyance so deeply personal through his bones. "You can't bench me! I'm a grown man!"
Frank just continued to get ready, moving about the boathouse as he sung out to the young adult in his bedroom. "A grown man with a friend who doesn't wanna see him pass out on the street. I'll handle this, you rest."
Peter just sighed, letting his head loll on the pillow. He did feel exhausted, too exhausted to even push back against Frank, let alone deal with a robbery. "Fine, but if I find out you handled it 'your way' you are so dead."
"Yeah yeah, just go back to sleep!" And with that, the door closed forcefully, and Peter was left alone.
He let himself doze back off, finally admitting he needs the rest. He can't remember the last time he allowed himself to sleep for more than an hour at a time… probably because he didn't have someone who cared about him enough to force him to.
As he fell back asleep, he no longer felt annoyed. He just felt grateful that someone gave a shit about him. He slept with a smile on his face.