Work Text:
Peter can't stop the trembling as he lands on the lab's roof with a dull thud. He pulls his mask off and takes a deep breath, the frigid air grounding as it enters his lungs. His body and mind are screaming. His abused flesh was probably already multiple shades of purples and blacks from his run-in with a group of Wilson Fisk's lackies. It would be all but healed within a few hours but that didn't stop it from hurting now.
Peter winced as he leaned down to get his stashed duffel bag with his street clothes. As he got older, an almost joke since he was only twenty three, his body was starting to take the beatings from hero work a little more personally. He quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a heavy flannel, shoving the sweaty and slightly bloodied suit back into the bag. He swung it on his shoulder, he'd deal with repairing it later.
The lab was empty, a rare sight. It was mid-afternoon, far later than Peter had intended on being here, and he expected to see Otto at the assembly bench, adjusting and fiddling with the prosthetic. Peter briefly pondered his absence but ultimately shrugged it off, determining the older man had probably just gone to a late lunch or an early dinner. Peter's stomach grumbled at the thought. He couldn't even recall the last time he had eaten. Money had been tighter than normal due to unexpected material costs from a necessary repair on his web shooters and he didn't really have any spare cash for food. After eight years of hero work he really should be able to budget better and yet he ended up in the same financial rough spot like clockwork.
"New York can't last without me but god forbid they pay me for it…" Peter grumbled under his breath as he looked through the cabinets of their small kitchenette for something to snack on. He was quick to scold himself as he found a couple of granola bars and a packet of cashews. He didn't protect the city for fame or wealth, he protected it because it was the right thing to do.
Money was immaterial in comparison to safe streets.
He heaved a sigh and took his meager snacks back to his office. It was definitely better than nothing and would at least calm the churn in his stomach. He was halfway through tossing his bag under his desk when the sight of a new addition to his office stopped him.
There was a couch.
It was grey and clearly pre-owned but there it was, pushed up against his lab space's wall like it had always been there. On it was a small Post-It note and written in Otto's scrawl was,
Try not to crash here every night. O.
At the end of the couch was a small pillow and a threadbare blanket. A rush of delighted warmth went through Peter, Otto was always so ready to care for him. It was laughable that a man that hardly kept up with his own health and sleeping habits would be so careful with someone else's.
Peter's quick to eat his snacks over the trash can before collapsing down on the comfortable cushions. He could feel himself sink down in its fabric, the middle section sagging under his weight. It felt like relief.
He toed his sneakers off and they clattered carelessly to the floor. He would just take a quick power nap and then get to reviewing the doctor's work on the polymers they had been testing. Just a quick nap to recharge his batteries...
There's a Post-It note on his forehead when Peter wakes up. Hours have passed and his mouth was beyond dry. His eyes were blurry as he tried to focus on the text. It's another note from Otto.
Dinner's in the fridge, please try to actually make it home tonight. O.
Peter smiled as he stood up. His back popped in mild protest as he stretched but he felt more rested than he had in a while. He walked across the lab in just his socks to the fridge where just as Otto had written were take out containers with his name on it. It was even his favorite. His stomach tightened at the thoughtfulness.
Peter didn't stop smiling the rest of the night.
He doesn't even get bothered when his crime app notified him that he's needed as soon as he finished eating the dinner bought just for him. He just suited up and got to work feeling stronger than ever.
If he thought about his thoughtful scientist with longing as he punched and kicked criminals, well that was his own business, wasn't it?