Chapter 2
Staring up at the ceiling, Peter was wide awake, despite being hyper-aware of his own mind numbing exhaustion, his thoughts racing
He had suspected the older vigilante was blind for a while, from all their past interactions. The eyes of Matt’s helmet not being see-through had been a pretty solid clue. But Peter had assumed Matt’s super senses were just better than his own, and let it be. Now that Matt confirmed his Blind Daredevil theory…Well, Peter was impressed. And worried.
If Matt was blind, his other senses must be through the roof to do everything he does. If he was that perceptive, how much did he know about Peter?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
click
Eyes snapping open, Peter wakes up to the sound of a cocking gun. He jumps up, sticking to the ceiling on instinct. He saw the upside down figure of the gunman, who looked positively flabbergasted (He stole that word from MJ).
“Jesus fucking Christ!” The upside down man exclaimed, raising his gun to point at Peter. “What the fuck?” He demanded, which was a very open ended question.
“Frank, language. And put the gun down. Peter, off the ceiling.” Matt ordered, walking out of his room and into the kitchen. He began making himself coffee, as if this was just a regular ole’ Tuesday.
Was it Tuesday? It was either that or Wednesday. Oh shit, he was so gonna be late for school.
Relaxing his arms so he was just hanging upside down from the ceiling by his feet, Peter looked around but didn’t see a clock on the wall. Oh, right. Blind guy.
“What time is it?” He asked.
Matt opened his mouth, presumably to answer him, but before he could say anything the still upside down gunman interrupted him, lowering his gun.
“What the fuck?” He repeated, this time directed at Matt.
“Look, man, that is a really open ended question.” Peter criticised, and was promptly ignored.
“Frank, Spiderman. Spiderman, Frank Castle.” Matt introduced them, and Peter instantly recognizes him as the Punisher, the guy that used to be all over the news.
Giving a little wave, Peter greeted the surly fellow with “Hiya, Mr.Punisher, Sir. Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too, man.” The inverted man replied distractedly, following it up with a hurried “Why is he here?” towards Matt.
“The kid needed a place to crash, I brought him here.” Peter silently thanked a deity for Matt not telling the Punisher about his freak out last night.
“‘The kid?’” Mr. Castle echoed, voice tinged with disbelief. “How old is he?” He asked, suddenly extremely serious, and only slightly hysterical.
“I’m old enough!” Peter protested, tired of them talking about him as if he wasn't there. He flipped off the ceiling, landing between the two extremely intimidating men, and crossed his arms.
The Punisher guffawed, disbelieving, but Peter carried on and gave the man a taste of his own grape-flavored medicine. “Thanks for letting me stay, Mister Daredevil, but I’ve got to be going.” He said, making sure to mind his manners.
“Not so fast, kid,” Matt began, promptly ignoring Peter’s squeaky “I’m not a kid!” God, the puberty voice really wasn’t helping him with the whole ‘I'm an adult’ shtick. ‘You can’t help it, your body’s changing,’ Aunt May’s voice rings through his head. Eww.
“We have to talk about some stuff before you leave,” Matt says sternly, placing his coffee on his counter and motioning to a stool across from him.
“I can’t, I’m late for school!” Peter objected, and fuck. He heard the Punisher's breath hitch as his stomach dropped and went ‘splat’ on the floor, his heart so close to beating out of his chest that it physically hurt. Everyone froze as they all realized his mistake, and time stopped.
Then it started again.
“God fucking damnit!” Frank Castle roared, stomping one of his legs and screaming. “Fuck!” He cried, hitting the wall behind him. If Peter weren’t so completely and utterly terrified, he would have laughed at how much the big bad punisher looked like a child throwing a tantrum.
Peter figured some of the other vigilantes might have been mad at him, but he didn’t think it was this bad. He took a step back, bumping into the couch, which made an awful noise as it scraped the floor that seemed to snap Matt out of his trance and realize his friend was going to destroy his house.
“Frank,” Matt tried, reaching for the distraught man, but was ignored in favor of The Punisher yelling “Fuck!” at the top of his lungs.
“Frank!” Matt repeated louder, grabbing the man roughly. Mr.Castle fought to get out of his grip, but Matt held firm. “You’re scaring him.” Those seemed to be the magic words, as the previously TooLoudTooAngryTooViolent man deflated, becoming too quiet and too sad.
“I’m sorry” Peter spoke, not exactly sure what he was apologizing for but knowing he wanted these men to like him (help him- no. He doesn’t need help. Nothing is wrong). Too his growing distress that only seemed to make his fellow vigilante more upset. “Really, I’m sorry, I can go-”
“No.” The Punisher spoke, not looking at him. “You're not going anywhere. Sit.”
Not one to argue with the man with the guns (lie), Peter complied.
Taking a deep breath, Matt looked at him and said, scarily calm, “Take off your mask.”
Peter contemplates saying no. Would they make him? Peter isn’t sure he could escape daredevil, but he doesn’t have his suit or his weapons on him. Mr.Castle, on the other hand … No. Peter does not enjoy being shot, even with his healing factor.
Fingers trembling, Peter fumbles with the bottom of his mask, hoping to whatever fucking deity that he wasn’t going to cry. Lifting his mask off, Frank takes a sharp inhale, his grip on the counter top tightening.
“Who?” He asks with gritted teeth, a violent look in his eye.
“Huh?” Peter asks, not knowing what the fuck was happening. He had expected a how, or a why, but did not anticipate this.
“Who’s making you do this?” Matt elaborates, since Mr.Castle was apparently too angry to form a coherent sentence.
“Nobody!” Peter blurts, eyes wide, seeing that this was a very big misunderstanding. “I got my powers and knew I had to help people! He just helps me sometimes. I promise!”
The two adults shared a look, and oh my god, Peter hates when adults do that. Why are they doing it? Matt can’t even see!
“Who’s he?” Matt asks, and Peter can’t help but curl in on himself. He really didn’t want to think about him.
“Mr.Stark.”