Peter
Peter was cold.
It was raining outside, and he had trekked ten blocks to get to Hell’s Kitchen. He was drenched from the cars that splashed the dirty sewage water that gathered near the curb as they drove. His thin hoodie stuck to him like a second skin, leaving him shivering with a runny nose.
He rapped a quick knock on the loft’s door.
There was a few footsteps, that stopped abruptly at the door.
“We ain’t want no girl scout cookies.”
It was a gruff voice that took Peter for surprise.
“Um” his voice cracked, “I-I’m looking for Mr. Murdock?”
Peter mentally cursed himself for sounding so meek.
There was a pause, Peter could feel whoever is was behind the door, was looking at him behind the peephole. He pulled at his hoodie strings nervously. The lack of immediate dissuasion at the name-drop confirmed for Peter that he was at the right place, this was just not Matt Murdock behind the door. So he continued.
“I was a client of his. He got some charges dropped for me awhile back, and” Peter cut himself off, choosing his next words carefully. “Well, I’m just in a situation and needs some help is all.”
The bolt of the lock slid open, and the door revealed a large, man sporting a buzz cut, with a nose that looked as though it had been broken more than a few times. He has some cuts littering his face, a busted lip and some fresh stitches holding a deep gash together along his chin.
Peter inadvertently took a step back.
“C’mon kid, wait for him inside.”
_____________________________________
The scary man introduced himself as Frank, a friend of Matt, and seemed a lot less scary when he saw the sad state Peter was in, and immediately softened his expression.
Peter was grateful for the towel he was provided with. He dried off his hair, leaving his face buried in it for longer than necessary, just breathing in the clean detergent smell and fluffy feel. It felt so luxurious.
Frank cleared his throat.
Peter looked up, embarrassed.
“I was working on fixing the shower head, the water pressure has been abysmal. But I can run you a bath to help warm up.”
Peter noticed the wrench in Frank’s hand, and felt bad for being such a nuisance, interrupting actual work. But the idea of a bath was oh so tempting, living in the shoebox with a two-by-two tiled floor for the world’s smallest shower, Peter couldn’t remember the last time he soaked in warm water.
The guilt of taking advantage of this kindness outweighed Peter’s desire to to warm up. He was prepared to catch pneumonia before overstepping. Being in a warm apartment was already eons better than being stuck outside.
“I’m okay, sir. Don’t need to run me a bath.”
Peter ducked his head, avoiding Frank’s gaze.
Frank seemed at a loss.
“No”
Peter looked up tentatively.
“You’re gonna get sick - or more sick - if you don’t warm up. I’m sorry if you don't feel comfortable, or if I’m the reason you don’t feel safe, but you are taking a bath, I’ll leave the apartment if you need me to, I already left Red a message, he knows your here.”
“Red?” Peter asked.
“Matt” Frank clarified.
Peter nodded.
“I’m gonna get the bath running, okay kid?”
Peter nodded again, face heating up as he did.
“You don’t have to leave, you’re Mr. Murdock’s friend. I’m not uncomfortable around you, sir. I just feel like I’m intruding.”
Frank tossed the wrench into a near by toolbox, wiping his hands on his well worn jeans. He gave Peter a small smile, a first, and Peter decided immediately that he liked Frank. That smile seemed rare, and he felt like he earned it out of the man. As well as the tools, and generally handyness of the man sent pangs into Peter’s heart, reminding him fondly of his Uncle Ben.
From inside the bathroom Peter heard Frank call out, in a lighthearted tone, voice filled with humour.
“Today’s your lucky day kid, I even got bubbles for ya.”